One of the problems – or, perhaps, the best things – about Gothic Horror is that it does tend to be sad. Usually, there are at least one or two characters who don’t deserve whatever is happening to them, or who have done something which is being punished in a way which does not in any way fit the crime. M.R. James’s writing is perhaps a constant reiteration of the old proverb, “curiosity killed the cat”, but curiosity in itself isn’t a bad thing; while Jonathan Harker in Bram Stoker’s Dracula finds himself in the initial dangerous situation through no fault of his own. Perhaps the saddest story in this anthology is The Lady Who Dances in the Ashes , which was first published by Sley House in Tales of Sley House 2022 . Here is the story of a man who is facing professional and financial ruin as a result of suggesting that mental health patients can be treated in the community rather than institutionalised. He is one of the most sympathetic narrators you will find in the book, but he bad...
Crowvus has published a new book this week: "Child of the Earth" by Susan Crow. This book is nature writing at its best, that beautiful mix between poetry and prose.
To celebrate the launch, Susan is writing a series of blog posts, and creating some videos, to help others wanting to follow in the narrative non-fiction footsteps.
To celebrate the launch, Susan is writing a series of blog posts, and creating some videos, to help others wanting to follow in the narrative non-fiction footsteps.
Collating Information for Narrative Non-Fiction
When I started this book, I wanted to include a number of pieces I had written in the past. I rummaged through old briefcases, folders and box files. I tried to find stories and accounts which I'd sent online. It took me a while and, at the end of it, I had a motley mix of might-be-useful stuff. Then I had to sort it all out. I realised I couldn't do that until I had the structure of the book well in place.
Another nature book. How do I make this one different? It seemed the easiest option was to use the calendar from January through to December. But it had been done many times over the years. I need discipline. How else could I get over, to the reader, my connection with, and love for, the natural world without diluting the passionate performance of the perpetual calendar?
I decided to go with the Greats and stick to the months in their natural order. I reckoned it would be fine because I was set on mixing in some unusual creative pieces alongside my account of Nature as it continues to form me. So, in that way, my book would be refreshingly different. I hoped.
The next stage was to sort out and order my past journals and to source details of things mentioned in those so that I might make my notes more meaningful for the reader. I felt I held an ace in the journal, given to me, of a Lincolnshire farm worker in the late nineteenth century. I am fascinated by social history and so I found it a delight to deck some of the chapters with this man's personal accounts.
So the twelve months, January to December, were completed with additions.
My wonderful illustrator read the chapters before creating and organising the pictures. I just love them.
When the first draft was written, I felt I needed to introduce it. I wasn't sure if I was cheating the reader by writing the introduction after I had written the book but I went with it anyway. I then realised I needed to draw it together with a conclusion. I wanted to cry out to the world that I love it and pray for it. No, that wasn't the right conclusion. So I decided to put out a dual message of responsibility with hope.
Here is a nest egg of memories and anecdotes teased from a life uplifted by an appreciation of the natural world.
Memories of childhood in rural England, raising a family in Orkney and Lincolnshire, and retirement in Northern Scotland are threaded together into a broad tapestry of the natural year. These experiences meet with a view of Earth's uncertain future to illustrate the necessity for respect of all lifeforms and shares a passion for the wellbeing of this planet with all generations.
Child of the Earth is a source of inspiration and delight - a literary garland of hope.
The companion book to Child of the Isle, the bestselling memoir of growing up in rural Lincolnshire.
Memories of childhood in rural England, raising a family in Orkney and Lincolnshire, and retirement in Northern Scotland are threaded together into a broad tapestry of the natural year. These experiences meet with a view of Earth's uncertain future to illustrate the necessity for respect of all lifeforms and shares a passion for the wellbeing of this planet with all generations.
Child of the Earth is a source of inspiration and delight - a literary garland of hope.
The companion book to Child of the Isle, the bestselling memoir of growing up in rural Lincolnshire.
Comments
Post a Comment