Thanks, Kate. Yes, my dad was a really special man. My proudest moments are still whenever I'm home in the UK, and someone tells me how much I'm like him.
As I've got older, I've better understood the early trauma he went through (an abusive, alcoholic father who beat him up and kicked him out of the house at 15, when dad had tried to stop him beating up his mum). He vowed to break that pattern, and he did. He was such a gentle and much-loved man, and as the manager of the local supermarket (which he ran like a corner shop), he was a pillar of the community.
Skeggy! I never actually went there all that much, as we had family who had moved to Rhyl, and so we'd always spend the middle two weeks of the summer hols with them. For day trips, it was always Sherwood Forest (my dad had grown up around there), or we'd be somewhere out on 'the tops' (Peak District).
He sounds like a real diamond. I never heard my dad shout or pull anyone down. He was just always funny and silly. Always had time for people. I guess we both struck lucky there.
My gran had a caravan in Ingoldmells, the ugly little brother of Skegvegas. Rhyl seems quite exotic in comparison! We did spend a lot of weekends in the Peak District too. I still say ‘on the tops’. Great memories 😁
My upcoming novel (editing... shudder) is set in Chesterfield, and it's loosely based on a true story that I came across last year, about an elderly couple who were both terminally ill with cancer and ended their days together in Ashgate Hospice. That was where my dad died, and it made me want to write a short story based on the article (they'd been married 52 years). Once I started writing, I couldn't stop, which is how I ended up writing my first novel.
You reading this took it next level for me. The writing is beautiful, and your voice brings it all home. I'll be listening in as long as you're narrating. 😊
This one was so interesting to feel into as I wrote it, because as I said in the intro, I'd just put the words of the story into one of the main characters in mistedy novel (he's delivering the eulogy at his father's funeral),, but I hadn't yet unlocked all of the contextual feelings.
It was only as I revisited it yesterday that the timeline came into crisp focus, and I realized that it took place literally weeks after my Mum had died. I have a really good memory, but when I write them down, I unlock so much more context. It's the writer in me, automatically running through who, how, what, where, and when, I think.
I liken this to my 'Parts Painting' work. I am always amazed when I begin what ends up unfolding, right before my eyes. Then usually, a memory comes. So, same for you with writing. I'm always grateful for what brings us deeper.
Yes. As a Brit, I had an aversion to therapy for the longest time. I finally gave in when my second marriage imploded, and I wanted to understand my part in that. I sort of sensed that my mum's emotional distance and health issues had something to do with it, but it was only when I started going deeper into my writing, did I truly start to strip back the layers.
I admire your openness and willingness. It's difficult to look at ourselves sometimes. I'm glad writing has been a key for you. As I navigate the end of my second marriage, I understand you. The breakdown sometimes creates the breaking through. ❤️
There's a series of LOTR-like fantasy books that I read about 45 years ago, called The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever. In them, my favorite character is a giant called Saltheart Foamfollower, who has wandered the seas for many years, and is returning to his people.
When he finally finds his way home, he finds that his people have been betrayed and all have been slaughtered. His way of dealing with his anger and rage is to plunge his hands into a fire in a ritual called caamora. While the flames do him no long-lasting damage, he feels the intense pain, but it allows him to process his grief.
When I first read the book, I didn't really comprehend how that ritual could work, but I've felt that my writing has led me through a similar process.
Fellow fantasy lover. I have never heard of that series but it sounds amazing. The plunging the hands into the fire creates a visceral pain experience that resonates. My trauma work was much the same. I don't think anyone could imagine how true it is till they experience it. But great writing, in whatever form, brings us close to the pain, even if we haven't yet experienced it. Then, when we do experience it, great writers are our comrades.
Your dad sounds so lovely. I was lucky enough to have a dad like that and I miss him every day.
Skeggy! Is there a Yorkshire person alive that hasn’t had to endure, sorry visit, the land of the Jolly Fisherman. 😁 Great read.
Thanks, Kate. Yes, my dad was a really special man. My proudest moments are still whenever I'm home in the UK, and someone tells me how much I'm like him.
As I've got older, I've better understood the early trauma he went through (an abusive, alcoholic father who beat him up and kicked him out of the house at 15, when dad had tried to stop him beating up his mum). He vowed to break that pattern, and he did. He was such a gentle and much-loved man, and as the manager of the local supermarket (which he ran like a corner shop), he was a pillar of the community.
Skeggy! I never actually went there all that much, as we had family who had moved to Rhyl, and so we'd always spend the middle two weeks of the summer hols with them. For day trips, it was always Sherwood Forest (my dad had grown up around there), or we'd be somewhere out on 'the tops' (Peak District).
He sounds like a real diamond. I never heard my dad shout or pull anyone down. He was just always funny and silly. Always had time for people. I guess we both struck lucky there.
My gran had a caravan in Ingoldmells, the ugly little brother of Skegvegas. Rhyl seems quite exotic in comparison! We did spend a lot of weekends in the Peak District too. I still say ‘on the tops’. Great memories 😁
My upcoming novel (editing... shudder) is set in Chesterfield, and it's loosely based on a true story that I came across last year, about an elderly couple who were both terminally ill with cancer and ended their days together in Ashgate Hospice. That was where my dad died, and it made me want to write a short story based on the article (they'd been married 52 years). Once I started writing, I couldn't stop, which is how I ended up writing my first novel.
Here's the article: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/clmyz9nm7d3o
That’s sweet. Sad but so lucky to have a long happy marriage. Looking forward to reading it when it’s ready.
You reading this took it next level for me. The writing is beautiful, and your voice brings it all home. I'll be listening in as long as you're narrating. 😊
Thanks!
This one was so interesting to feel into as I wrote it, because as I said in the intro, I'd just put the words of the story into one of the main characters in mistedy novel (he's delivering the eulogy at his father's funeral),, but I hadn't yet unlocked all of the contextual feelings.
It was only as I revisited it yesterday that the timeline came into crisp focus, and I realized that it took place literally weeks after my Mum had died. I have a really good memory, but when I write them down, I unlock so much more context. It's the writer in me, automatically running through who, how, what, where, and when, I think.
I liken this to my 'Parts Painting' work. I am always amazed when I begin what ends up unfolding, right before my eyes. Then usually, a memory comes. So, same for you with writing. I'm always grateful for what brings us deeper.
Yes. As a Brit, I had an aversion to therapy for the longest time. I finally gave in when my second marriage imploded, and I wanted to understand my part in that. I sort of sensed that my mum's emotional distance and health issues had something to do with it, but it was only when I started going deeper into my writing, did I truly start to strip back the layers.
I admire your openness and willingness. It's difficult to look at ourselves sometimes. I'm glad writing has been a key for you. As I navigate the end of my second marriage, I understand you. The breakdown sometimes creates the breaking through. ❤️
There's a series of LOTR-like fantasy books that I read about 45 years ago, called The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever. In them, my favorite character is a giant called Saltheart Foamfollower, who has wandered the seas for many years, and is returning to his people.
When he finally finds his way home, he finds that his people have been betrayed and all have been slaughtered. His way of dealing with his anger and rage is to plunge his hands into a fire in a ritual called caamora. While the flames do him no long-lasting damage, he feels the intense pain, but it allows him to process his grief.
When I first read the book, I didn't really comprehend how that ritual could work, but I've felt that my writing has led me through a similar process.
Fellow fantasy lover. I have never heard of that series but it sounds amazing. The plunging the hands into the fire creates a visceral pain experience that resonates. My trauma work was much the same. I don't think anyone could imagine how true it is till they experience it. But great writing, in whatever form, brings us close to the pain, even if we haven't yet experienced it. Then, when we do experience it, great writers are our comrades.