Memories of Spring

Since finishing my last painting, which I thought was returning me to a more sustained state of creative flow, I have not been able to do much. Another painting was begun, but then abandoned. Another idea was scribbled into my sketchbook, but has not progressed. Susan Griffin’s quote about the illusion of wellness has never seemed more apt.

The imagery and words that had started to spill out have now retreated within, tangling inside me, with no outlet, no freedom. Such are the seasons of illness, I suppose. I must simply endure, and wait.

Still, I can at least share with you some memories of spring …

A silver-eyed Australian raven.

Reading my story published in the second volume of Heroines, from the Neo Perennial Press.

Showy blossoms and new green.

The beautiful fabrics I bought for (yet to begin) sewing projects.

Mist on the mountains, and the pitter-patter of rain—particularly sweet memories in these dry and dangerous days of fire around the state.

Two red wattlebird chicks, waiting patiently for their next feed.

This handsome little man, strutting his stuff—a superb fairy-wren.

A fast growing wattlebird chick feeding herself from one of the thirteen waratah blooms we had on the bush in our front yard.

Expansive skies.

And sweet little gifts.

It looks like a long, hot and very dry summer is ahead of us. Rain would be most welcome, but in its absence I will keep seeking what small, succulent gifts I can find.

Heroines II

The second Heroines anthology is launched today, featuring my story, A New Land. It’s about an old Polish immigrant couple—Agnieszka and Gregor—and a mysterious nighttime visitor to their vegetable garden.

This tale (along with The Fisherman and the Cormorant, which appeared in the first anthology last year), is part of a series of stories I began to write as I completed Sharon Blackie’s online course, Sisterhood of the Bones (now called Sisters of Rock & Root). This course revolves—quite literally!—around the wheel of the year by examining each of the eight Celtic seasonal festivals, delving into the meanings and themes of each, and connecting it with an associated myth or folktale. 

When I began with Samhain in April 2016, my aim was to use the course to deepen my connection to the land I live on, not just by observing the seasonal changes, and thinking about how I could connect my embodiment here in Australia back to my European ancestry, but also to write a story for each seasonal celebration, thus creating my own local mythology. 

Each story would have a number of features: 

1. It would be set, obliquely or otherwise, at the time of the festival in question

2. It would take place either in, or in relation to, a real place near where I live, in the compass direction associated with the festival

3. It would feature, or at least refer to, an animal associated with the festival, though with an Australian twist

With each story I would take inspiration from the themes of the festival, the associated myth/folktale, or a combination of the two, along with what arose from contemplation of the places and animals.

I completed five of these stories, and was very excited about the possibility of self-publishing the whole series, perhaps with artworks too, before I became stuck. That I got stuck at the story for the summer solstice, one of the festivals I feel a little ambivalent about, says something. As does the idea of voicelessness that seems to need expression through it. I feel as if I have lost my voice over the past couple of years, and this is something I wish to overcome. 

That two of my stories from this mythic series have now been published suggests that I was onto something with this idea. At the very least it was enabling me to create more of a feeling of belonging with my own landscape, and that was a powerful thing. I miss that.

I don’t know if I will ever finish writing the series, though I dearly hope I will. Right now I am just trying to take heart from the fact that two of my stories have flown out into the world! For someone who only started writing fiction in 2014, that is a great achievement in itself.

Heroines: Volume II is available now from the Neo Perennial Press.

An Unlikely Heroine

I have some rather good news. Another of my stories is to be published in the next Heroines anthology, due out in September.

This is both wonderful and sad, for I wrote the story nearly three years ago, back when I was still able to write. 

I am unable to write stories now.

I began writing creatively at the beginning of 2014, starting tentatively, not knowing how, yet gradually being drawn more and more to create characters and settings, and to see where they led me. I experienced, from 2013 to 2017, a time of wonder. I had increased (though still limited) energy, and this is what made it possible, yet it was the newness of what I was learning and experiencing that drove me onwards. It was a time of profusion. The possibilities of my life expanded, my imagination flourished, and I felt like I had found not only what I wanted to do, but something that I could do, despite having CFS.

Perhaps I was naive. Maybe things went to my head. I forgot that nothing is certain when chronic illness is involved. 

So, there are mixed feelings about the impending publication of my story. There is a sense of hope. If my story can be selected (again!) from more than 100 submissions, then surely that means I can write well, given the right circumstances. But there is also a sense of defeat, for I am not in control of the circumstances. I do not know when I will be able to write again.

I’m trapped in a great tangle of possibilities and limitations, trying to make sense of it all, and not having much success at present.

It’s hard work being the heroine of my own life, but I must trust that I will find a way to save myself, to keep on living as best I can, whether I can write or not. 

Heroines

I am so pleased, proud and excited to announce that one of my short stories has just been published in this beautiful anthology of writing by women: Heroines. 

Published by The Neo Perennial Press, it features stories and poetry that reimagine the heroines of legend, fairytale, and mythology.

My own story, The Fisherman and the Cormorant, was inspired by the tale of transformation and curse-breaking, The Wild Swans, but has been turned upside down, in more ways than one—featuring a transformed woman (rather than the brothers of the original tale), a shining black cormorant rather than white swans, an Australian lakeside setting, and … well, you will just have to read it to find out.

This anthology is a women-made thing of beauty. I can’t wait to dive into reading it!

It can be purchased from The Neo Perennial Press here. (Note: Orders are for Australia only at this point, though I believe that international orders will be possible in the coming weeks. In the meantime, if you wish to order from overseas, please make a direct enquiry.)