Reading... Margaret Atwood's 'The Stone Mattress', a collection of 9 short fantastical stories - or 'tales' (the term Atwood prefers for these particular works) about revenge, mortality, ageing and looking back.
Listening... to David Bowie, of course.
Working... as a biographer on a life story project. The book is almost done and will finish around the 45,000 word mark. I'm in an interesting and privileged position to be listening to the stories and experiences of someone I never meet, and turning those spoken stories into something that works on the page. The next few months will bring more life writing projects, some of which I'll be having more creative freedom and space with, actually meeting and speaking with clients, building books in a more collaborative way. An exciting time.
Walking... at speed on a daily basis to try to undo all the food of Christmas and New Year. Might take a while.
Preparing... an application for the role of editor with the journal The A3 Review. I ordered a bundle of issues to read in preparation, and they're wonderful.
Holding... a hot water bottle, pretty much full time.
Tuesday, 5 January 2016
A week after my last post we lost a close family member. I will hold back a little here in the specifics of what I say because this loss is not just my own, but my partner’s. It was a sudden and intense experience, and the swells of that loss, and those left behind, are still felt now.
November and December were spent collected together with my partner’s family, mostly indoors but sometimes out in open spaces where we tried to breathe, make sense, and feel the person still with us. We lit fireworks and Chinese lanterns. We have become very keen on candles. We’ve dug out old lamps and bought fairy lights and even some of those pretend battery powered candles for when we’re asleep. I’m not sure if there’s something in this seeking of light (it’s not that we’re avoiding the dark) but it seems to bring comfort.
It is hard when faced with such a sudden absence of life to not expect more of it to occur. So in and amongst processing this we hold on to each other a little tighter, and feel gratitude for what we have. We remember and contemplate on the person we knew and loved, and what they brought to us.
|Cawthorne Park, Barnsley|