I’m always trying to word-craft my way to freedom and happiness. It’s even, often, that words are a lifeboat; I save my own life by and in the writing. But what if I’ve been making a mistake? What if that which I seek can only be found, not in the words themselves, but in the space around the words—in the hush of the gap after the final stanza? What if, instead of writing that narrative arc (Act 1, Act 2 and Act 3 and the denouement), I started with Act 3 and just stayed there…?
Read MoreWords may be relative–and little bitty things at that–but they can contain and express the most vast.
Read MoreUnderstand the profound implications of embodied and conceptual metaphor, and how they extend to metaphor on the page, in order to become a better writer. This article was first published in Writing Magazine in 2013.
Read MoreMost of us, at one time or another, experience events in our lives that feel unfinished, traumatic, or are just highly emotional. At these times, energy can become stuck in our nervous systems. This interview was first published in Saga Magazine in 2016.
Read MoreA case study in embodiment and writing. ‘An interesting fusion’. That’s what my project ‘Wild Words’ was once called by a fellow psychotherapist, and yes, he was looking down his nose at me….
Read MoreYesterday, I went for a walk. I came across the Beech tree that pulls my attention every time I walk past it. Warmed by the sun, the slippery grey bark of that thick trunk smelt sweet. An abundance of verdant leaves jostled for attention in the breeze. That tree is a stunning example of the determination of living things to survive, and flourish. It doesn’t have the symmetrical shape of a storybook tree, but I can see that that is the template it is trying to match. It knows what it was born to become. However, it has met obstacles along the way, and has had to adapt.
Read MoreMy wild words are the words that want to be heard and seen — as opposed to the ones I want to write. They are the words I keep caged in the depths of my soul. They are the ones I sometimes hear crying, or, even worse, the ones that have forgotten how to cry. They are the words that leak out, or that sabotage my life, in so many realised and unrealised ways. They are as often words of joy and peace as they are words of sorrow or anger.
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