Essays + Reflections
Learning the language of birds
The honouring of sneezes and omens, choice of weather,… the heeding of the voices of birds they practised without disguise.
Writing through the pandemic
This past Covid year I’ve discovered the things that kept me sane and hopeful also kept me writing.
Blossom to blossom
Last year, I watched my father pick the remaining blossoms from his apple tree. Some promised fruit, others did not.
Panning for glints of the living past
Beneath the desk at which I work at home sit six worn-looking archive boxes.
Those Who Are Not Gone
How do you deal with death when it ‘walks’ into your work as a storyteller?
The Myth of the Finishing Line
Publishing is fun.*