At the end of September, I sent the manuscript for Climbing High: Speculative Stories of Female Ambition to Flame Tree’s editorial team.
It’s the culmination of several months of work so far. The creative high point of a year in which other projects were delayed.
And it’s a collaborative project, my first time editing an anthology of stories for a publisher. Several writers have contributed short stories (and, in one case, an introduction) to the project.
Reading through the copyedits feels like looking down from the top of a hill.
View from the Pnyx in Athens. Note to self: editing an anthology called Climbing High apparently makes you more likely to climb hills…
There are further steps to go through before this book is out in the world, but I’m proud of the form the collection is taking and the work we’ve all put into it.
How do you feel when you finish something? Do you take time to recognize the effort, to let yourself breathe and your nervous system sense “this is done”?
Events I’ve Enjoyed This Month
Between my own work toward a finish line, I’ve enjoyed seeing others’ events come to fruition recently.
My friend Rachael Twumasi-Corson gave a talk at the TEDx Bromley event at the beginning of the month. The theme was Defying Expectations, and the talks covered everything from the power of rebels to the importance of patient self-advocacy to the transferable leadership skills that mothers bring to the workplace. These powerful talks will be online soon, and I’d encourage you to check them out.
I went to local author and presenter David Bramwell’s monthly event, the Catalyst Club, where speakers give engaging talks about their passions, no matter how niche. There’s also a bit of cabaret-style performance. This month’s topics included a “museum of unfinished projects” (relatable!), a birthday poem, and the stories of people who made penpal connections through old music magazines.
Some of you might remember my work on Joan: The Musical in the Brighton Fringe last year. Our lead actress’s daughter, Faradena Afifi, is one of the founders of the Noisy Women multi-disciplinary creative group. I attended their performance at the Rotunda Cafe, which was a fun, chaotic blend of music, improvisation, poetry, movement, and more. Well worth seeing, and lots of fun!
Lastly, the Coast Is Queer, the UK’s biggest LGBTQ+ literary festival, just finished up yesterday with a brilliant conversation between Sarah Waters and Julia Armfield (pictured below). I always come back from this festival’s talks with more insights, not to mention more books, than I’d expected!
I appreciate bringing projects over the finish line, and witnessing others’ work can afford the perspective needed to get them done. I’m nourished by community and inspired by what others can do.
What do you find helpful for reaching that final stretch of creative work?
“9 years ago today,” Google Photos reminded me, showing a carousel of pictures from Scotland.
It’s been almost a decade since I arrived in the UK. What a roller coaster it’s been! I wrote about my experiences moving “across the pond” in my poetry book, The Heart Decided to Move. I wrote other pieces about the experience as well—some published, some not. Among them is this little essay sharing my delight and surprise at some of the Scottish foods I encountered. In the spirit of “9 years ago today,” I’m sharing it with you now.
A Canadian’s First Impression of 10 Scottish Foods
My paternal grandfather’s family came from Scotland. He died when I was seven, but my key memories of him pre-illness involved food, like the lox and scrambled eggs he enjoyed for breakfast before smoking a pipe. When I moved to Edinburgh on a UK ancestry visa, eager to connect with my heritage, I took it for granted that culinary matters would be involved. I was familiar with shortbread and scones from family recipes, but many Scottish foods were new to my North American palate. I dove in and tried them with gusto—and mixed results. Here’s what one Canadian thought about a few distinctive Scottish and UK foods upon first encounter.
Haggis: In the Scottish capital, haggis is sold in food trucks and even as a burger topping. I approached this dish, made by cooking sheep organs and oatmeal (traditionally inside a sheep’s stomach), with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, trying an appetizer of haggis balls at a nice restaurant. They tasted spicy and meaty, not a flavor I was used to. Over time, I became fonder of the dish, and even enjoyed it on top of the aforementioned burger. It serves a nice kick, but like Australia’s marmite, it’s not for everyone.
Scotch eggs: These boiled eggs covered in sausage meat and breadcrumbs, then deep fried, are Scottish classics available in supermarkets and weekend food markets alike. I enjoyed the savory mix of proteins and felt energized every time I ate one. Plus, they’re the perfect size to munch on. Yum!
Deep fried pizza: UK chip shops (or “chippies” as they are affectionately called) are fond of their fried foods. One in Edinburgh offered a cheese pizza that was entirely deep fried. I had a slice or two, but that was all I could handle. The pizza, doughy and sparse on the sauce, was only vaguely recognizable under the heavy grease. If you’re a fried foods fan, maybe you’d like it better than I did.
Rock cakes: While reading the Harry Potter books as a kid, I assumed that many of the foods enjoyed by Harry and his friends were invented, like Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans. I mean, how could “spotted dick” be a real thing? (Now those odd jellybeans exist in real life, and I’ve discovered that spotted dick does, too.) The “rock cakes” that Hagrid served Harry and his friends always made me laugh; I pictured burnt North American-style biscuits given a goofy name. Imagine my surprise when I went to a Scottish church function and discovered a plate of rock cakes, there for the tasting. They are, in fact, scone-like baked goods stuffed with raisins. They have a light texture and don’t taste like rocks at all. I recommend rock cakes, as long as Hagrid doesn’t bake them!
Pie (not the fruity kind): A proper British pie is a savory dish, unlike the sweet Canadian ones I made with fruit at home. The first one I tried was a steak pie at a fish and chips shop in a small Scottish town. I won’t mention where, because it wasn’t very good: the miniature pie boasted a dry crust and gummy texture. My second steak pie (from a different spot) was delicious, with an ale-soaked flavor and finely cooked meat, so mileage on this dish varies widely.
Fish and chips: You may be sensing a pattern here: many of these dishes come from a chippy. Putting fish and chips on here is cheating a bit, because my home province of Prince Edward Island, and many other North American destinations, offer some version of cod with fries and tartar sauce. It’s better in the UK, fried golden with thick wedge-like chips (the skinny American-style potato side being called “fries” here too). I came to expect white fish, topping options like vinegar and “brown sauce” (the sweet-and-savory specialty reminded me of vinegar in the best way), and a heartier helping than you can eat in one go.
Cullen skink: A traditional Scottish soup with smoked fish, a can or bowl of this creamy, potato-strewn recipe goes down like a dream. The smoky flavor permeates the entire bowl. I found this soup to vary in quality, but I have yet to meet a bad one. One of these days, during lockdown, I might try making it myself.
Jaffa Cakes and Tunnock’s Teacakes: Like rock cakes, these teatime treats stretched my understanding of what could be called a “cake”. Jaffa Cakes have a sponge base, orange jam, and a layer of chocolate on top. Tunnock’s Teacakes boast a chocolate-covered meringue atop a shortbread biscuit. Both of these, prior to coming to the UK, would have fit my definition of “delicious cookies”, while here they are not quite biscuits but layer cakes’ little cousins.
Mince pie: This sweet Christmastime pie (miniature, like many British savory pies) is made of mincemeat, which isn’t actually meat but minced fruit with suet. Raisins, currants, and orange peel feature in it. I had one at a coffee shop, dusted with powdered sugar. It seemed like a fruitcake in tart form. I wasn’t sure if I liked the heavy sweet or not. I found some supermarket versions of this pie a bit bitter; nonetheless, they all tasted, somehow, like Christmas.
Tablet: It sounds like an iPad and tastes like what it is—fudge. Light in color, it’s made with sweetened condensed milk and sold in gift shops across Edinburgh. I loved it, like most types of fudge, in small doses. This treat is buttery, a little dry, and exquisitely sweet. Not all that different from my grandma’s shortbread, albeit an ocean away.
For a more personal take on my first impressions of Scotland, you can read my essay “Land, Love, and My People” on School of Shine.
I’m writing this from the Royal Court Theatre in London where, as a Writers’ Card member, I have free use of their writing space. While I don’t have a garden/yard of my own, my downstairs neighbours said yes to my request to keep potted plants in the gravel-filled space out front, and I recently had a salad of fresh lettuce I grew.
This weekend, I watched Brighton’s Pride parade, brought my books to a DJed Pride event to sell, and went to a cat cafe, where a furry little rascal named Fifi tried to steal my creamy drink.
Writing wise, I’ve been busy. I took part in two podcasts with The Good Book Life: Protecting Pride, which discussed the growing trend of removing Pride and LGBTQI+ displays from UK libraries and the importance of representation in the face of censorship, and Reading by the Swamp: Alternative Summer Reads, where we recommended unconventional favourites for the season.
I have a new story published in Mythaxis. “Rooted” features workplace burnout, a garden/forest Workaway, and an uncanny hostess. Talk about “getting back to your roots!” You can read it here, or listen to an audio version.
Illustration for my story “Rooted” in Mythaxis
I took part in Aggh! Zine’s zine-making workshop, where I made a playlist zine for my YA novel Chasing Harmony (themes: gifted kid burnout, bi angst, Canada in the 90s/00s, and lots and lots of music). You can see the zine below (so much fun to make!), and listen to the Spotify playlist for my book here.
But…
So often, there’s a “but.”
When Plans Change
Publishing is a changeable business, and it just so happens that my entire publication schedule has changed at once.
I had a book planned for release this year. My literary romance novella, the project that got me through lockdown, is now going to be out next year – fall 2027 – instead.
The anthology I’m editing has moved from a March 2027 release to a June 2027 release.
My other planned 2027 book will, most likely (hopefully), be a 2028 book.
I’m looking forward to launching these books on their revised timelines. And it feels like a big adjustment at a time when multiple changes have converged.
Other things that I was hoping for, planning for, this year didn’t end up happening at all. A theatre show didn’t happen. A festival didn’t happen. Some big personal plans, the type of thing I don’t write about in newsletters, also didn’t happen.
I’ve been sitting with my disappointment when plans fall through, and asking myself, “What can I do instead? What’s within my control?”
Often, we do our best, but outcomes are partly or wholly beyond our control.
We can’t necessarily turn a “no” into a “yes,” or a “later” into a “now.”
We can, however, to paraphrase a saying, look for a window when a door closes.
Collecting Rejections
Writers get a lot of rejections.
I first read about the idea of collecting these rejections in a Literary Hub article when it came out in 2016. Writer Kim Liao proposed the idea of collecting 100 rejections a year. If you aim to get rejected by that many magazines, fellowships, residencies, or whatever else, you’ll likely get a few acceptances along the way.
I didn’t end up actively counting rejections at the time, though I did start tracking my story submissions.
More recently, actor and content creator Gabriella Carr has gone viral for pursuing 1000 rejections. And Jia Jiang has written a book about rejection therapy (as he calls it), after challenging himself to face rejection for 100 days in a row by asking for unusual things. Beyond the literary world, rejection can be pursued as a confidence-building exercise or a way to increase personal resilience.
Since I started hearing more “nos” this year, I’ve created a spreadsheet. I list the things I’ve applied or asked for, when, and the result. Most of them are “nos.” But a few are “yeses.”
We can’t always control the answers we get, or the plans that change. But we can ask.
What have you asked for lately? What would you like to?
Hi all! I recently spent time traveling around northern England, ending my trip in Chester for a writing retreat with the British Fantasy Society (or BFS).
Shopping in Chester’s city center
I’ve been on a couple of longer writing retreats previously, in France and Kenya. Were they an excuse to go cool places? Maybe…
This one was over a long weekend (four days total, including coming and going) and a bit closer to home. I really enjoy the BFS’s programs and was excited to be allocated a spot at the retreat this year. The organization is professional and participants are serious about their craft, while attendees at the other retreats I went to varied more in the focus of their writing endeavors.
We stayed at the Queen at Chester Hotel. Below are some photos of the staircase and garden.
Attendees had a conference room to write in. We sat around a big table, coming and going as our energy permitted, typing intently while drinking tea and coffee from the side table. Usually, we went for dinner as a group. One evening, we shared readings from completed writing or works in progress. The quality of the work was outstanding, and everyone’s stories were a joy to listen to.
There’s nothing like the synergy of working around others who are passionate about the same thing. I focused on plotting new book concepts, and came home with two outlines and a couple of chapters done.
Having a great setting to explore didn’t hurt either. We worked independently, with time to come and go as we liked. Chester has Roman walls, a Gothic cathedral, a city center full of black-and-white timber-framed revival buildings, canals, and a well-known zoo. I’d be remiss if I didn’t share some animal pictures (below). Can you spot the baby tree kangaroo?
Thanks to Shona, David, the organizers at the BFS, and all the participants for such a positive experience. I look forward to seeing you again!
Sometimes I share work here that’s gone out of print (or, as in this case, offline). Losing a parent last year has made me reflect on my earliest experience with family grief, for a sister I never knew. Below is a personal essay I wrote about her for xoJane, originally published in 2015 in their “It Happened to Me” series: “It Happened to Me: I Grew Up in the Shadow of My Dead Sister.”
Growing up, my mother liked to tell me how much she’d wanted a daughter. How happy she was when I was born. However, there was more to this seemingly cheery statement than I first realized: I was my parents’ second daughter. Their first one had died.
I found out about her from a photo album kept on a dusty shelf. At first I thought the little blanket-swaddled bundle was me, but the cheeks were too small. As a baby, I’d earned the nickname “Ziggy” for my balloon-like facial features. This kid had to be someone else.
My mother explained the facts of Heather’s existence. Two years before my birth, my parents had another daughter who lived for six hours. There were complications with her brain. Everyone knew what was going to happen — not that it made things easier.
In the picture of my parents holding Heather, their faces are grave. A tuft of hair much darker than mine is stuck to the first page of Heather’s photo album, beside her pressed pink baby hat. There are ink prints of two tiny feet on her birth certificate.
Most of the album is taken up by cards commemorating her death and birth at once, full of purple flowers and sympathy wishes. A family friend wrote a beautiful poem for her memorial service, calling her a “laughing clog-dancer.” No one had ever called me a laughing clog-dancer. It seemed like a pretty fabulous title.
My family moved from New England to Canada when I was one, and Heather came along with them. A box in the cupboard held ashes from her cremation. My mother planned to bury them in the yard someday and plant a tree over them, but she never got around to doing it. The ashes stayed put.
I missed the older sibling I’d never had a chance to know. In the first grade family albums we had to draw, I filled the sister page with a drawing of a tree over ashes and wrote “My sister is dead.”
Every Christmas, I’d look through the Sears Wish Book for gift inspiration. My parents no doubt hoped for a list of toys and games. Instead, I pointed at every female catalog model in my age range. “I want a sister!”
My two younger brothers were great people to grow up with. I loved bossing them around in complex fantasy games, being the queen or the teacher. But I couldn’t trade clothes with my brothers, and they didn’t share my attention span. I imagined that somehow, a sister would understand me.
When I grow up, I’m going to build a ladder to Heaven and go get Heather and bring her down,” I vowed one day. Heather’s absence made her all the more appealing. She filled the void of my sister fantasies. My life would be full of flowers and magic and crime-solving motifs from my favorite books, if only I could get her back.
I’m sure she filled a similar void for my mother. She wrote children’s stories, ostensibly to publish someday, but partially to keep me entertained. The character based on me was a kid who read all the time. The character based on Heather was an angel who made a heavenly newcomer feel at home.
My mother said again and again that she was lucky to have a daughter. What type of daughter did I have to be to live up to that statement? I was uncoordinated and tantrum-prone and kept my room messy. How could I compare to a sibling who’d never made mistakes?
Death creates an ideal that’s impossible to live up to. I saw this in high school when two students were killed in car crashes. Suddenly everyone was talking about them, and students who didn’t know them well acted like they’d been best buddies. Deeds that would have been frowned upon in life were either glossed over or discussed with rapture.
Dead children take on a mythical quality. Their short lives become larger than life, their futures outrageously promising because they never had a chance to happen.
Dead children are uniformly wonderful. This can be hard on surviving siblings, whose grief is mixed with all the other feelings of a close relationship, such as anger or envy.
With someone like Heather, dead without having had much chance to live, the myth is different. Not only did Heather get the best name in the family (Heather Meadow), but she also got immunity from the blunders of living. No matter what I achieved, there was always a photo album on the shelf dedicated to a daughter who could have been anything.
I looked for people whose lives were shaped by similar loss and found many. My best friend at school had a dead sister, and like me, dreamed of finding her again. My aunt had a stillborn daughter.
People came out of the woodwork and revealed themselves as members of this secret club. Some grieved grandparents. Adoptees missed birth parents and rumored siblings. I kept a list diligently in my head and drew dark comfort from being one of many. It wasn’t so strange, after all, to grieve a family member you’ve never met.
I wanted to show Heather respect by grieving her properly. At around age 10, I kept a diary where I wrote about her a lot, scribbling poems and pictures. I even composed a mournful lullaby (which, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have shared with my mom).
Whenever I achieved something picture-in-the-paper worthy or did something interesting, I thought of Heather. “She should have been the one doing this. She could have done it better.” At the same time, I tried my best to live up to her blank-slate perfection, to fashion myself into a good prospective dead person.
As time went on, I got caught up in other things, but thoughts about Heather asserted themselves whenever I met some sort of goal. In high school, I took up the alto saxophone and loved it. The sound was resonant. It took up space. In the shower one morning, a Heather thought interrupted me. “She never got the chance to play the saxophone.”
Some part of me wondered if she would have made it to Carnegie Hall, while another part of me felt sad that she’d missed out.
The truth is that Heather couldn’t have done many of the things I took pride in, even if she’d lived. I still have Heather thoughts sometimes, but they’re tempered by gratitude at being the living daughter, the one with the good fortune to try a wide array of experiences.
My year’s end posts are often celebratory. This one is bittersweet.
I made significant professional strides in 2025, both in my writing career and in my day job. Personally, a lot of things have gone well.
I also lost my dad this year, after traveling back and forth to the U.S. a few times to see him in the hospital. And my cousin died very recently; he wasn’t much older than I am.
A New Book
My poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move came out this year with Read Furiously’s One ‘n Done series. I had a lot of fun writing and illustrating this book that tells the story of my move to the UK, travels, and moments of daily life as an immigrant.
Mikey Belcher did a lovely interview with me on his Substack that goes into detail on the book’s themes, and I gave some workshops and readings in both the UK and Canada to celebrate the book’s launch.
A Musical
This May, Joan: The Musical, which Hannah Doyle and I co-wrote, was performed in the Brighton Fringe. It told a story of an older woman, left behind by both an ex-husband and the passing of time, who travels to another world Alice in Wonderland-style and undergoes challenges to get her confidence and power back. Our first two shows had a sold-out run, so we ended up doing an encore performance.
It was amazing to see such a big production onstage. I dreamed of writing a musical and having it performed as a kid, and now I’ve done it. The show had good reviews and was an exciting, intense experience that I learned a lot from. I’m grateful to our team – director Summer and actors Geraldine, Justin, Lauren, and Dean, along with the fantastic team at The Actors – for making this show shine!
Volunteering Endeavors
I took on two big volunteer tasks this year. I was on the committee to plan Mensa’s annual European gathering in Cardiff this year, which happened in August. I helped organize activities and also gave a writing workshop.
I also acted as a juror for the British Fantasy Awards’ Best Independent Press award. I ended up reading 20 books for this, which was both exhausting and rewarding. There are so many great independent SFF presses in the UK; this work left me optimistic that the genre is in good hands.
Other Things
The Whispers in the Earth anthology came out this year, featuring my Canadian ghost ship tale along with 19 other folklore-inspired stories from around the world and beautiful linocut illustrations.
I had a short story published in the NonBinary Review’s Solarpunk issue.
I also recently got promoted to Senior Editor at Mindtools and am excited to see where that role takes me.
I have more books planned, starting with a romance novella that will be launching next year!
I’ve done my best in 2025, and I intend to do the same in 2026. I think my dad would be proud.
I’m writing this fresh from Brighton Pride celebrations this weekend.
And I’m grappling with difficult feelings. It’s hard to lose a parent. And while I was traveling back and forth across continents to visit my father in the hospital, I didn’t have the bandwidth to process other emotions which I’m feeling now.
A lot of people have found themselves on neurodivergent journeys recently. Mine looks a little different from what you see on TikTok videos. I’ve shared a little about it elsewhere, and now I’ll share more about it here.
I used to be in a neurodiverse relationship. That’s how I got involved with a local autism support group, a decade or so before the neurodiversity-affirming movement really took off.
I’m not autistic. I also don’t have ADHD, the other type of neurodivergence that’s gained visibility recently. But years ago, I read about dyspraxia (sometimes called Developmental Coordination Disorder) and thought, “Oh.”
My skill set has always been wildly asymmetrical. I was that kid who couldn’t catch a ball but was reading (and understanding) my mom’s psychology books at age 9. My brain can struggle to process motion. Sense of direction? I’ve barely got one. Dyspraxia made sense – until I attended a dyspraxia conference, and realized I didn’t experience 70% of the challenges the speakers were talking about.
A few years ago, I contacted an expert and we looked at various forms of neurodivergence. I’d thought I had a disability – but I don’t, and my attempts to find accommodations for my challenges had only made me feel worse. I found out instead that I’d been struggling with anxiety symptoms, and had “some sensory things” (not a diagnosis) and a high IQ. I learned some anxiety management techniques, joined Mensa, and got on with things.
There was still a piece missing. And this year, I found it.
Synesthesia, aka the “Sensory Things”
It turns out my brain has another weird thing going on – synesthesia. This is when input to one sense results in an additional sensory experience. Think colors for letters, tastes for sounds, feeling touch when someone else is touched, visualizing sequences in space, etc. It’s a diverse spectrum of traits, and multiple forms often coexist in the same person.
I read about synesthesia as a teenager and found it relatable. It struck a chord, given my colored weekdays (the most common form of synesthesia found in a population study) and the poem I wrote as a child about the colors and personalities of certain numbers. But surely I didn’t really have synesthesia, since I wasn’t actually “seeing” anything.
There’s more information and research on it now. As it happens, most synesthetes are like me, with the extra sensory input experienced in the mind’s eye (associative synesthesia) rather than in the external world (projective synesthesia).
My main forms of synesthesia have to do with color related to physical sensations and music. I experience other forms, too, including some that happen occasionally. I’m still figuring out what things are “normal” for me that aren’t experienced by everyone. Yep, I was 37 years old when I learned that most people don’t ever visualize moving, colored shapes in their minds when music plays.
It’s common for synesthetes to have some of the challenges I do, such as a poor sense of direction, some challenges processing movement, and left-right confusion (which I used to have, but it went away after going on a bunch of hikes). My strengths in memory and creativity are also common with the profile.
Synesthesia has an interesting place in the neurodiversity conversation. It’s one of few “neurodivergent conditions” that’s not typically disabling. There’s less stigma around it at this time, though if you try to articulate your experiences, they sure can sound weird! Some people experience debilitating or distracting versions of synesthesia. Others embrace the “superpower” narrative, with versions of synesthesia that help with remembering information, spotting patterns, or creating spellbinding art of things they see that no one else can.
I’ve had frightening synesthetic moments and stunningly beautiful ones. On the whole, though, my synesthesia is like background noise that I’ve spent most of my life tuning out. I gave it other names – “my wild imagination,” “weird or spiritual experiences,” and “did this really happen or did I make it up?” No wonder I gravitate toward fantasy fiction, where some characters see things that most people can’t. I realize now there’s a synesthetic character in one of my short stories in Dream Signs, and while there’s no “seeing music” in my music-focused novel Chasing Harmony, it has some synesthetic moments too.
I don’t have to “do anything” about my synesthesia, really. But I’m curiously exploring how it works, and trying to figure out how I feel about it. I think this will take a while.
A mediocre painting of a song I heard. Well, it gets the point across…
Magnetospheres and Demon Hunters
A movie just came out that struck a deep chord with me. Magnetosphere, directed by Nicola Rose, is a coming-of-age story about a girl with synesthesia set in Ontario during my own childhood. For me, it couldn’t have been released at a better time.
It was a delight to hear the Canadian accents and to be reminded of watching Comet Hale-Bopp and the girl power era. While my experiences aren’t the same as the protagonist’s, I do see sounds, hear colors, and see feelings on occasion, and like Maggie, I was and am creative and emotional. There were so many things I related to that I cried a few times during the movie, especially when Maggie was singing about being confused by her synesthetic experiences. I also loved her argument with her friend over the colour of Tuesday – some subtle synesthesia in someone else that wasn’t singled out. That’s not to mention the queer subplot, and the comical one where Maggie’s dad is directing a theatrical production where everything goes wrong. Memories from Joan: The Musical were triggered!
I recommend Magnetosphere without reservation, especially if you’re curious to get a sense of what (some types of) synesthesia can be like. The Pharell Williams Lego movie, Piece by Piece, is another great watch for visualizing music-to-color synesthesia. And, like many people right now, I’ve gotten into Netflix’s animated musical KPop Demon Hunters. I’ve been binge listening to the songs. If you’ve seen it, you’ll know that demonic patterns figure heavily in the plot, so it’s interesting that the riff at the beginning and end of “Golden” evokes a compelling visual pattern for me.
I relate to the main character Rumi’s secrecy and shame. The movie struck a chord because I’ve drafted a novel with overlapping themes – music magic, demons, and secrets brought into the open. Oh, and a version of synesthesia, before I realized that’s what I was experiencing. Once I revise my current WIP, I’m going to get back to work on that one.
To quote the movie’s final song:
Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head? I should’ve let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what’s underneath I’ll find your harmony The song we couldn’t write This is what it sounds like
Writing News
Next week, I’ll be in Cardiff for EMAG, Mensa’s European annual gathering. I’m on the organizing committee and will be leading a workshop on Creative Writing as part of the program.
Creative Writing
Saturday, 9 August, 9-10 am
Looking for a fun new way to express your thoughts, feelings, and ideas? Have you always wanted to write but not been sure how to get started? In this workshop, you’ll explore a variety of facilitated creative writing exercises, with opportunities to share with the group and get feedback if you wish. Let’s bring our imagination to the page!
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I have two story publications forthcoming this year, and a future poetry event in the works with Custom House Bookshop in London.
I did an author interview recently with fellow writer Christina Consolino, who asked lovely, thoughtful questions.
I’m having fun contributing to the British Fantasy Society’s monthly blogs and judging for the British Fantasy Awards (Best Independent Press means reading a lot of books).
It’s an exhilarating feeling, watching in the audience as actors embody characters you created, speak words you imagined, and belt out music you created.
But my co-writer Hannah Doyle and I weren’t the only ones getting chills during the opening weekend (May 3-4) of Joan: The Musical in the Brighton Fringe. Some of the audience members shared that it made them cry. Others left quoting the lines and humming the tunes.
I couldn’t have imagined a better weekend for Joan, where BOTH DAYS SOLD OUT!
Except for this – we were offered an opportunity to do a THIRD performance! It’s now happening on Monday, May 26, at 6 pm, once again at The Actors in Brighton.
It’s truly magical when the stars align and you end up seeing something that takes your breath away. Joan The Musical by Melanie Bell and Hannah Doyle is a triumphant tale about a woman’s dwindling confidence and her journey of self-discovery. A tale of despair and sadness, followed by joy and karma. With sequins, hot pink leggings, squats and box breathing. All set to an amazing original musical score.
This is a sweet-toned musical about self-affirmation, new discovery and magical singing that works. Lyrics and songs are the kind you’d hear in a Southwark Playhouse musical: easy melodies, wittily syncopated around witty lyrics… They’ve clearly proved themselves as a writing team, and it’ll be fascinating to see where they go next.
Co-writer/producer Hannah Doyle and lead actress Geraldine Afifi spoke about the show on an episode The Brighton Babbler podcast, which also includes one of the songs! You can listen to it here.
We’re now looking for opportunities to develop the show beyond the Brighton Fringe. Feel free to be in touch if you know of any possible connections!
The cast and creative team
Book Events and News
The book launch for my new poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move went well, and I’m in the process of setting up more readings and events. For my next one, I’m coming to CANADA!
1-110 Roseberry Street, Campbellton, New Brunswick, Canada June 6, 2-4 pm Join me for a poetry reading, book signing, and snacks at a gem of a bookstore that offers “a space where anyone can feel safe and free to let their geek flag fly”!
Reading at The Heart Decided to Move book launch
My copies of the Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined anthology arrived and they’re so beautiful! The book features 20 folklore-inspired stories, including one of mine, and hand-printed linocut illustrations. There may still be a few copies available on The Broken Binding’s website, so check here if you’re interested in ordering a paperback or a hardback with sprayed edges!
Whispers in the Earth anthology, with the linocut illustration for my story
My poem “In Which Much Has Changed” has been (re-)published in issue 49 of QWERTY magazine, the “No” issue, along with other innovative poems and stories. You can order one here if you like.
And in final book news, a recommendation! I had the honor of giving some preliminary input on the English edition of Monika Orski’s book about leading highly intelligent people – which can be trickier than it looks! And the book is out now.
Part 1: Learning by Doing Leadership By Monika Orski
Leading highly intelligent individuals can be both an immensely rewarding and challenging experience. When those individuals are also volunteers, the complexity of leadership increases even more.
In this thought-provoking book, a former national chair of Mensa Sweden shares valuable insights and practical lessons drawn from years of experience leading within one of the world’s most intellectually gifted communities. With Mensa being a largely volunteer-driven organization, it offers a rare environment to explore leadership in its most nuanced and challenging form, also know as herding cats.
You will learn about leadership by sugar, explanations adapted for the fast thinkers, and how a character from a children’s book can help. Plus some other things you might not yet know that you want to know. There are even some attempts at humour.
Ideal for leaders, managers, and anyone working with high-performing or highly autonomous teams of professionals or volunteers, The Art of Herding Cats guides you through doing the mostly impossible and how to enjoy it.
My poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move is out in the world now!
“A poignant exploration of self-discovery, The Heart Decided to Move captures the author’s transformative journey as she takes the life-changing step of relocating to a new country. Through letters, poetry, and reflective prose, the work weaves together a tapestry of language, emotion, and identity. Each piece invites readers to explore the complexity of what it means to leave behind one’s homeland in search of a true sense of belonging. Follow Melanie Bell as she experiences moments of culture shock, surviving a pandemic in her new home, and joyful moments of worldly travel, all told in snapshots filled with humor and heart.”
In 2017, Canadian author Melanie Bell moved to the UK on an ancestry visa. Her new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move, shares the story of that journey, from moments of culture shock and cross-cultural delight to surviving a pandemic in an unfamiliar place. The book incorporates illustrations, prose, and travel poems from far and wide.
Join us to celebrate the launch of this collection and pick up a signed copy!
In further news, the Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined anthology is out, featuring my Prince Edward Island ghost ship story, among a collection of 20 tales inspired by myths and legends from around the world, and illustrated with beautiful linocut prints!
The editor, Gabriela Houston, is also a prolific fantasy author. Her latest novel, The Bone Roots, is a haunting, beautiful read featuring Slavic folklore, motherhood, fox thieves, and gods. I read an ARC and thought, “I wish I could have written that!” So, if you’re looking for something new to read, check it out!
Rehearsals for Joan: The Musical continue in preparation for performance in the Brighton Fringe on 3 and 4 May. My co-writer Hannah Doyle and lead actress Geraldine Afifi just did an interview about the show on The Brighton Babbler podcast which also includes a song from the show, “Little Bird.” You can listen to it here!
If you’re local, come join us and see it live next month!
72-year-old Joan has it all. A glittering past as a West End dancer, a chocolate-box maisonette in Seven Dials, and fantastic hair. There’s one thing she doesn’t have, though: the power of self-belief.
Bruised and scorned by her ex-husband’s wayward ways, Joan tumbles down a rabbit hole that brings her face to face with her tattered confidence. Can Joan find her way back to the surface? Or is she destined to languish in the depths of self-care hell?
Joan: The Musical will take the stage at The Actors in Brighton on 3 and 4 May, at 1.30pm. You can get your tickets here!
Coming April 8: my new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move!
And you can preorder it now! More information from my publisher below:
PREORDER – The Heart Decided to Move – One ‘n Done 12 is currently available for preorder. Orders will ship 2025-04-08
A powerful portrait of self-discovery told in snapshots as the author makes the challenging decision to relocate. Letters, poetry, and language come together to create a journey of what it means to find your heart’s true home.
Melanie Bell, author of Chasing Harmony, dazzles readers again with her follow-up project that once again asks us to find our authenticity through the choices we make.
I’m excited about this book. As the title suggests, a lot of heart went into it. I wrote the poetry over several years and, while it focuses on my experiences moving to the UK, I wrote across several places. The collection also incorporates some of my essays and illustrations.
I’m having a book launch in Brighton – details below, and more events to follow!
In 2017, Canadian author Melanie Bell moved to the UK on an ancestry visa. Her new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move, shares the story of that journey, from moments of culture shock and cross-cultural delight to surviving a pandemic in an unfamiliar place. The book incorporates illustrations, prose, and travel poems from far and wide.
Join us to celebrate the launch of this collection and pick up a signed copy!
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