2020. The year of unexpected awfulness.
I began the year in Sydney, watching 50 metre bushfire flames on the television news at night, breezing in ash as I swam. Then came home to a northern Italy about to be thwarted by this virus, whose first victim lived in a village 10kms away.
Lockdown. Fear. A car with a megaphone telling everyone to stay inside. Not being able to go 200m beyond the house. Much has been written comparing Italy’s historical plagues with this year’s suffering and isolation and social ravaging. I wrote two articles - it was all I could do it seems. Keep communication lines open. Scale down. Small things. Here and here.
Now of course it has not disappeared as we knew it would not, and we march towards winter. How many good things have you plucked from the air, this year? One for me has Patrick Stewart’s daily instagram sonnet, a reminder that our concerns are far from original, and rarely so well expressed. And then my flowers. Plumbago especially this year. Jasmine. Orange blossom. All beautifully oblivious to our chaos.
And more practically. Novel revisions. The book is now with first readers and this author is terrified. My flash fiction collection is now out in February 2021. Every so often, the brain needs to travel far. I’ve been doing that with mentoring, with much joy. Look above for my new page, given writing retreats are off. And now two courses with Litro Magazine, where I work as flash fiction editor. Join us if you’d like to hone your flash fiction or short story writing skills! Info here: Litro Masterclasses
Stay well. Live the small things. Be present. (Currently an anxious mess so I’m speaking to myself!)
