Writing, blindness and science fiction

(Nimue)

This winter, I’ve been relearning how to type. While I had some vision improvement in the autumn, I was tending to hit the wrong keys a lot. Loss of depth perception doesn’t help and I’ve had some post cataract-surgery fuzziness as well. I never learned how to touch type. One of the sight impairment charities I’ve been talking to, recommended putting a few raised markers on keys to help me feel my way. Since doing that, my typing has improved.

I am still very dependant on Keith for proofreading and I haven’t learned where most of the punctuation keys are yet, but I’ll get there. Typing is very slow as I feel for each key, but you may have noticed that blog posts are getting a bit longer as I get the hang of typing blind.

The loss of sight has affected my writing process in an array of ways. Previously, being able to look at the words I’d put down already was part of how I developed ideas. Redrafting and editing are hard when you can’t read. I am incredibly fortunate in having a partner who is an excellent and experienced proof reader and editor. Keith is a very capable writer who not only understands what I’m doing but also believes in the value of it. His help has kept me going and we are figuring out more all the time.

It’s not an entirely one-sided thing, as I’ve been able to support and encourage Keith creatively too. We learn and grow together; which is a blessing in itself.

I’m still working out how to handle longer pieces with the aim of getting back into the books I was writing a year ago. It means holding a lot more material in my head, but I think that will be feasible with practice.

This week, I managed a 3,700 word sci-fi story for a Harvey Duckman anthology. This is the longest solo piece of writing I’ve managed in the last year. In it, I have drawn on many things I have learned from audiobooks recently. I had been coping with my limitations partly by telling myself that I was doing research for future stories. It feels good to be able to convert that hope into truth.

In getting back more of the writing, I feel more truly myself. Life is not easy for me, but persistence and determination are paying off. That in turn makes me more hopeful about getting to grips with other challenges too.

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Solo voice magic

(Nimue)

Outside of folk clubs, it is unusual to hear unaccompanied solo singing. This is in many ways a shame, so I thought I would post about why it is a good thing.

Let’s start with the negatives. Solo singing isn’t easy. It is far easier to hold a tune when you have an accompaniment to keep you on key. Many people find that they need something, or someone else, doing the tune to help them keep going. This is actually about practice. Most of us can join in plausibly with a song we half know. To sing alone, you need to really have a much deeper knowledge of the tune. You have to internalise it and that’s simply a question of investing enough time. People new to solo singing often underestimate how much work it takes and this can be disheartening. If you can hold a tune with support then you can hold it alone, if you learn it thoroughly enough.

Singing solo feels very exposed. There’s no safety net, nothing and no one to cover for you if things go wrong. Everyone makes the odd mistake, the skill lies in knowing how to recover quickly from them.

If you can sing solo then you can sing anywhere and on demand. Not needing to have brought an instrument, not needing to amp a backing track is often an advantage. You never know when someone might want or need you to sing for them. Once people know you can do that, they do tend to ask and I’ve had plenty of unexpected performances asked of me in this way.

There is real magic in the raw, exposed vulnerability of an unaccompanied voice. It is such a primal, human thing to be able to offer. The human voice is the first instrument we had as a species and is the first thing most of us use to make music. The unadorned voice connects us to the natural world and to our ancestors.

When we sing alone, we are part of a history of voices so old and vast as to defy imagining. This is magical indeed.

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Nature, sugar and life

(Nimue)

Eating is one of the most natural and fundamental processes we modern humans regularly engage in. Through food, we are connected with other beings, with landscapes, water cycles and the sun as the source of all life. Food connects us with cultures, tradition and ancestry. We are also encountering the long history of cultivation and crop selection. We are eating the consequences of a system built on a desire for profit, not health. Sugar is at the heart of this.

My diabetes diagnosis lead me to learn more about food and nutrition. That in turn led me to books about both our own microbes and the life of the soil. I learned a bit about modern farming and food production. These are all huge topics and if you have the time I can recommend digging in. I wanted to share a few of the things I’ve learned that struck me as being especially important.

Druidry is often associated with honouring the sun. When plants photosynthesise they take that sun energy and turn it into sugar. This is the basis of most food chains. Sugar is the essence of life. Usually plants make complex long chain sugars. These we call carbohydrates, starch and fibre. 

With help from microbes all of this can be broken down into sugar which bodies can convert into energy or store as fat. 

In creating refined sugar we have come up with something our bodies get excited about but are not equipped to deal with. Our gut flora responds badly to refined sugar, we store it as fat and it messes us up in all sorts of ways.

I did not come to diabetes through the over consumption of sugar. Even so, when I got the diagnosis I opted to remove refined sugar from my diet. This was easy, as there wasn’t much to remove. My body adapted quickly, and my appreciation of sweetness in fruit increased. 

For a long time now, humans have selected food plants to be both larger and sweeter. The largeness represents more starch and a lower percentage of nutrients. This is because food production is profit driven. Given the implications for our health and our relationships with the living world, this uneasy area of study may be relevant for anyone following the Driud path.

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The Accidental Animist

(Keith)

Over the course of my life, I have drifted towards Druidry and paganism. Not necessarily consciously, and only in more recent years has it become obvious to me.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I recently acquired an Awen tattoo in recognition of my tentative steps along my own bard path.

This awareness and acknowledgement has mostly been down to the influence of my partner Nimue Brown (whose blog this is, and who very kindly lets me contribute every so often when I have something to share.)

Recently, she has pointed out to me that I am definitely an animist, which was news to me, being very much a science-y sorta guy. To be fair, I have always acknowledged animals and living things have an inherent spirit, a life force, and I have always respected that. I have rescued mice from boxes, helped free trapped birds, carefully helped spiders to safer places and I open the window for flies rather than squashing them. (Although, I have to admit this careful approach lapses when it comes to mosquitoes. Any small thing that is so belligerent as to attack something many times its size, deserves a permanent life lesson.)

But animism, as you will be aware, goes way beyond just animals. It encompasses rivers, trees, weather systems, plants, fungi and even rocks, as examples. To an animist, they all have a spirit, a soul.

This has always been a step too far for my conscious mind, rocks having a spirit? A soul? Then Nimue pointed something out to me. Let me explain.

I think I am somewhat clumsy. Probably no more or no less clumsy than anyone else, but I think I also tend to rush things, which obviously makes the clumsiness worse.

I will drop things, not put something down in a sensible place, stack things unwisely, trip over things that I should have noticed, bump into door handles, hit my head on the cooker hood and so on.

Today, for example, seemed to be “National Drop Cutlery on the Floor Day.” Earlier I touched the handle of a bread knife overhanging the worktop and sent it cartwheeling across the kitchen and onto the floor. Then later, I picked up a bowl knocking the spoon within it as I did so – again, it ended up on the floor.

These incidents have led me to the profound belief that these objects are doing it on purpose. They all gang up on me. For some reason I have done them great wrong and they now take every opportunity to extract their revenge by falling to the floor, not doing what they are supposed to do, by attacking me, and by tripping me up.

As a result, I can often be heard to exclaim, “Inanimate objects hate me!”

Well, just the other day, after one of these regular exclamations, Nimue said, “You know that makes you a true animist, don’t you?”

This made me stop and think, and you know, I guess she’s right. After all, if I believe that inanimate objects have taken against me, decided to extract some sort of deserved revenge, then they must have a spirit, a soul.

So, I guess this makes me a reluctant animist, an accidental animist.

(Nimue says I should try talking to objects kindly, and softly, instead of cursing them at every opportunity. She may well be right; cursing has never done me any good!)

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The trouble with Pagans

(Nimue)

The trouble with Pagans is that we are much like everyone else. Also much like everyone else, we want to believe that our community is better than that. The unfortunate truth is that assholes get everywhere. I’ve spent time in a lot of communities and the same problems crop up everywhere. Here are some examples:

  • The gatekeeper wants to dictate who is allowed in and who isn’t. Based on their own views and values. Gatekeepers want control and get power by excluding others. They create division and conflict.
  • The gurus claim to have a monopoly on truth. They may be driven by the desire to make money and this can be a motivator for competition and attacking other teachers. At the extreme end, you get into really toxic and cultish approaches.
  • There are bitchcrafters who create conflict so as to put themselves centre stage.
  • There are drama llamas in perpetual crisis who stay centre stage by always seeming to be on fire.

There is a lot of capitalist thinking underpinning all of this. We all live in a system that encourages people to seek power, status, money and influence.

Pagans are not free from this, although I think we are better placed to resist it. As a community, we are less inclined to abdicate personal power and this makes us a bit harder to herd. We do not tend to be passive and obedient, so anyone who wants to be a Pagan leader has to be willing to put in a lot of work.

Another issue is the scale of the results. Our most successful authors and teachers barely manage to scrape a living. Anyone seeking fame and fortune is likely to head off to richer pastures. Probably in the more lucrative New Age industry.

One of the best moves in response to the power hungry is to be drama averse. A live and let live attitude leaves little room for the behaviour I’ve described. If you don’t much mind how others do their Druidry, there is a lot you can’t get drawn into. The more accepting of difference we are, the less room there is for cults and witch wars.

At the same time, if someone is acting out in a criminal way, then we should act to challenge that and be willing to get the police involved. No one should be considered special or important enough to be allowed to abuse that power.

Goats mights be a good source of inspiration here. Goats do what they do. And let other goats get on with things. It’s a nice mix of being both awkward and tolerant. It’s a model could serve us well.

Be more goat!

Thanks Dave for the prompt.

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Community singing

(Nimue)

For most of human history, people have gathered and sung together. Not doing that regularly is a very modern and urban phenomenon. In my lifetime, the social habit of going to church and singing hymns has been much reduced. There is less singing in pubs, and unless you are part of a choir, you probably don’t sing as part of your social life.

Unlike a lot of people, I’ve always had music as part of my social life. I know from this, that singing together creates warm feelings and a sense of community. A group of strangers joining in with choruses at a gig, will soon feel friendly and well disposed towards each other. After the music, you often find that people connect in other ways.

Singing together is collaborative, not competitive. It is a joyful activity. Music can inspire strong emotions, so when we share emotive content through music, we create shared emotional experiences. All of this helps us relate to each other in more positive and empathic ways.

One of the topics I want to explore is how we can connect and think better of each other. There is a lot of powerful stuff that happens when we share music. I’ll be exploring different aspects of this in future posts. When we create as bards, there is scope to create social change and have a political impact as a consequence. Being conscious of the possibilities opens up more opportunities to use this potential effectively.

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New year, new books

(Nimue)

I’m delighted to announce that I have stories in two new anthologies…

I’ve been a fan of Katherine Soutar’s art for something like twenty five years now. Her pictures are warm and vibrant. Sometimes melancholy and haunted. There is often a strong folklore element and she may be best known for doing covers on folklore books published by the History Press.

For this book, Myths in Isolation, a whole bunch of authors created tales in response to fantastical creatures depicted by Katherine. This is not a collection of folktales, but it is folklore informed.

My tale is based on a Japanese monster cat. Cats were late arrivals in Japan but rapidly found their way into stories. I’ve tried to honour the traditions, while bringing something of my own.

Buy my new book! Myths in Isolation. Available now!

Keith and I have a story in this new Harvey Duckman anthology, Knot on Tree Fire on Stone.

Our tale is set early in the Iron Age, a period that fascinates both of us. Keith and I have collaborated on projects before but never so closely as this. We built the story and its characters together. Keith did all the typing and at times we were passing it between us line by line. It was an intense way of working and I really enjoyed it.

I think we will be doing more of this sort of thing in the future.

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This is the Year

A guest post from Steven C. Davis

This is the year we turn the corporations on themselves.
This is the year we de-platform the manbabies and the fascists.
This is the year the communities rise.
The year the communities take a step forwards.

What if I told you there is a way to make amazon spend their resources without making a profit?
A way for creatives to side-step the moribund publishing houses, the vanity presses, the self-worshipping arts councils?

This is the year to build, to join, to show up, to raise your voice.
This is the year to stop the ignorant speaking for us all.

This is the year the witches rise.
With intention and deliberation.
This is the year the darkness comes home;
That not ‘all is light’ guides us.

This is the year that cracks become seams of gold.
That in the darkness you become stronger.

This is the year the rainbows rise.
Clothed in black and glitter.
Clothed in themselves.
One for all and all for one and we all rise.
What is best for Aces is better for all.

This is the year – to enter your discomfort zone.
To join forces with someone different to you.
To care; to love; to heal; to grow.

And self-care is not candles and wine.
Self-care is not needing an escape.
Self-care is saying no.
That does not benefit me.

This is the year – what is the worst that can happen?
And if you can raise your voice and stop it?
If you can take a stand, and someone stands because of you?
Someone makes a difference, because of you.

And within those cracks and failures and shadows
There are seams of gold that burn with fire
That burn with intention and deliberation
Then who are you to deny the world your fire?

This is the year –
To become the best you.
With defiance and love and intention
With fire and rainbows and the darkness whole
With deliberation and magic and creativity
This is the year
To become you.

Steven C. Davis is the the Creative Director of Tenebrous Texts, a small imprint working with a global range of authors and storytellers. Tenebrous covers a range of speculative, alternative and dark fiction works.
Steven is creator of ‘The Sælvatici’ which includes ‘Lore of the Sælvatici’, the ‘Hurnungaz’ trilogy, ‘Barrow witch’ and more, and is a folk-horror/ dark mythic/ Pagan retelling of the Robin Hood mythos. They are also the creator and author of the ‘Less than Human’ shape-shifter series, set in the UK, and one half of the gothic poetry duo, ‘Poetic Malevolence’, which also features Laura Jane Round.

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Looking ahead

(Nimue)

I’m keenly aware at the moment that the future is highly unpredictable. Life has thrown me a lot of curve balls of late. Still I think it is worth holding intentions and having a sense of what I want to achieve.

Healing has to be my priority, and I’m doing my best to learn about what I most need on that score. I very much intend to get moving again.

Currently I’m on eye pressure meds that have a side effect of making me constantly feel exhausted, so that’s slowing me down considerably.

My hope is to be able to go to a regular dance class. Keith is up for doing this with me and we have established that I can still dance if I have support.

I very much hope to get back to writing books. I’m managing these short pieces; although I do need a proof reader. I miss working on novels. I’m throwing a lot of energy into music and performance.

I’ve been thinking a lot too about what I can usefully do in the world. I’m more limited than ever now, while all that needs doing, is both immense and pressing. There may be some small things I can do to help build community and resilience.

We need to find common ground and the means to work together towards better things. Overcoming divisions and learning to see the best in each other would help with that. We need hope, and specifically the hope that as a species we are capable of better.

Perhaps this is something I can meaningfully contribute to, in some small way.

4

Looking back at 2025

(Nimue)

This year has been incredibly tough for me. Being so very ill, going through operations and dealing with side effects from meds, has been a lot. I’m now registered blind and going through the challenge of relearning how to do everything on these new terms. On top of that, I’ve had some nasty stuff to deal with that involved the police. I’ve had some therapy, am taking anti-anxiety meds and I get a proper mental health assessment in February. There is more of all this ahead and it will be a while before I’ve dealt with all the things this last year did to me.

Even so this has not been the unhappiest year of my life and it is the good bits that loom largest for me.

The medical support has been amazing. I have been shown such kindness and respect and encouraged to feel worthy of that care. I’m learning to take my needs and feelings more seriously. I’ve had amazing support from charities that help people with sight loss. The police were kind. Social services are promising help. Even government departments — infamous for being callous — have been helpful. Venue staff, people running events, waiters and workers of all kinds, have met my difficulties supportively. Friends and family have rallied round to help me keep going as much as possible. People dealing with sight loss and diabetes have shared their hard-won insights. I’ve been moved over and over, by how much kindness I have encountered.

Inevitably a very small number of people have been really crap. Not many though. The wonderfulness of the many has helped me cope with the vile few who have been deliberately unpleasant. Most people are excellent. Most people when given the chance, choose to act and speak kindly.

Keith has been my guiding light in all of this. He’s done that very literally, helping me to move around and deal with practical challenges. He has held me together when I’ve felt lost and overwhelmed. When I have been too ill to take care of myself in any way, he has looked after me. Thanks to him I have not lost hope and have been able to imagine a future with good things in it.

This year has taught me what it means to be loved. I have gone down into the darkest of places and into the depths of my own fear. I do not have to be defined by the worst that has been thought of me. I do not have to keep carrying the weight of blame and shame that so nearly destroyed me.

Keith has been telling me for some time that I should trust who I am when I am happy and trust the things that make me happy.

That’s something to carry forward out of the carnage of this year.

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