Sorry for my silence here.
Strange feelings well up inside me like a dark fountain. At night I let the ebony stream spill over into my diary. One night it spilled over in the woods. I sat under a beech tree and thumbed feelings into my notes app until it grew too dark to see the way home. Thick droplets started to fall. Eventually, my phone shut down because it got too wet.
But the dark stream needs to be captured.
Since coming to the island this is how I write. Notes apps in the lonely wood. Hunched over my diary after a moonlit swim, hair dripping. On the rocky shore with a travel mug of tea and my notebook. Disparate thoughts. Waves of feelings. Nothing that amounts to a letter or a book though.
I’ve tried to be routined. I’ve driven to the cafe and sat with a pen, good intentions, and cooling coffee. The dark stream flows. I can’t control its direction, nor would I want to. I slip into its syrupy waters and am dragged to places I can’t really describe. Places that must remain private for now.
I’d imagined writing letters to you all about my adventures on Skye. How it feels to learn my native tongue, the metamorphasis taking place. I imagined something beautiful unfolding.
Instead, turning into someone else feels hard. It feels ugly. It feels like I’m getting it wrong. I want you to know that I’m having beautiful experiences here. But there’s grief, too. Life is fuller than I could imagine. It’s lonelier, too. It’s more uncertain than ever and always filled with poetry.
Last month the moon rose above the sea, huge and yellow like a devouring eye. More sun than moon. I was swimming with people I’d never met until this summer. I felt a million miles away from the girl in her bedroom at home and a million miles away from the woman I’d thought I’d become while here.
I made an impulsive decision. Run off to the island, learn Gaelic, live. But most days it feels like I’m treading water. That’s why we avoid making decisions, isn’t it? Because then you have to live with consequences, the most difficult of which is being elsewhere but not quite there.
So for now I’m putting a pause on writing publically. I’m grateful for the support I’ve received here, all your kind words and wisdom shared in the comments. And I’m continually amazed that people want to pay for my words. Thank you so much.
I’ve paused paid subscriptions to concentrate on Gaelic and life and will let you know when I return to writing.
This isn’t a goodbye but a ‘to be continued…’
My books:
Fireside Fairy Tales and Fireside Magic - story collections inspired by the folklore and magic of my native Scotland.
A magic trick for aspiring authors:
One Page Novel (KATE10 for 10% off)
I salute your bravery. You followed a dream, your heart, a yearning. Who among us takes the road less travelled? Lonely are the brave.
You have captivated me with your words as ever. I resonate a lot with what you wrote here, and for what its worth I feel kindred with your loneliness paired with boldness as you pursue this new version of life and the self that goes with that, in all its poetry. I recognise the deep beauty in this and also the heady confusion. Your expressed thoughts inspire me always, and I see the romanticism in what you've been doing but also understand the lived reality may not always match up, but that this is all a part of the process of growing and learning. It makes sense that you're taking a step back here, but I hope your journal will still hear the whispers of your words as you continue to allow them to flow through you. I hope what you discover next is fulfilling and enriching, with all the pools of uncertainty where personal growth can be found, and the clouds of joy where peaceful moments can be found. I'll look forward to the next words of yours that I have the privilege of reading!