Happy Birthday Virginia Woolf!
Born on this day in 1882, she is one of the most important, influential writers to ever live.
And oh! how I love her!
I got these, the newly released DIARIES, out with Granta Books, as a gift to myself for my fortieth, and I’m over the moon.
Talking of moons, happy first full moon of the year. I was up with a wild migraine last night, could feel her pulling at the fluids and the minerals and the everything of me…
January’s moon names, if you know more, share?
Lots of people are reading CACOPHONY just now, in the way that it was written, as a day book, and the posts I’ve been tagged in this week have been nothing short of miraculous.
Swans, and snow, and lakes.
The stuff of a January which is not this one, but that might speak to some of what this January has presented us with—
‘Earth, unteach me the world’s ways. I want to learn yours.
How to write the grief that we all are carrying.
How not to hollow ourselves into a pit of fear, of worry, of helplessness.
How to act, despite it all.’
I started my day, for the first time ever, writing in the virtual company of other women, logged onto a Mothers Who Write morning session.
It was gorgeous to see some familiar, beloved faces, and to know others will be there on other days too.
We really need community, in ways many of us are always trying to verbalise.
I have been snowed under, working quite silly hours really, but this afternoon, just before a beautiful mentoring session with a writer whose story is going to change lives, I received the mail to say
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