tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35056591065581023362024-03-05T23:37:50.197+00:00Diana Powell WritingDiana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-58448161207379690992022-09-20T14:26:00.000+01:002022-09-20T14:26:38.429+01:00Strange places, strange finds<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Holy wells can be found in the most beautiful places –</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvzRkdJcKhkXxeyv2hahX_82EeCH7-FCk7al2KLi_ar_1h6zlUbM-qo4EW8qZJlflqNrZ1aTJbb-LfbhbIr4E9xHKRjmPlDx0o0Iy4ie9cFrfbTd4Hh5xbZUxUQIa5Kh69_Up2KNyM6oUd69RoFgEgu7lBgyZWPVupjV4Ie6-3XzRQE1b9rrQIhiJ7A/s1280/Well%2001%20St%20Nons.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvzRkdJcKhkXxeyv2hahX_82EeCH7-FCk7al2KLi_ar_1h6zlUbM-qo4EW8qZJlflqNrZ1aTJbb-LfbhbIr4E9xHKRjmPlDx0o0Iy4ie9cFrfbTd4Hh5xbZUxUQIa5Kh69_Up2KNyM6oUd69RoFgEgu7lBgyZWPVupjV4Ie6-3XzRQE1b9rrQIhiJ7A/w396-h265/Well%2001%20St%20Nons.jpeg" width="396" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Site of St. Non's Well</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WVigBAv_1hQ4jV3g1W2-2TfL7f9gRNfPDdP5I8SQq3n-bgVR93pZAZUaRCHd8b9GCOMjn9lVY3WqoqSKQHnzCwuuYYMl-fxqaHA1YlZmclKTKqIlE8x4OJH9rNzMGxKJjweyuuyRlAOvUzr_JFo3S2WoS1cLK5aFNHqQpy82dwdHh3b0zAwCcdyCwQ/s587/Well%2002%20Llanwnda%20carn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="587" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WVigBAv_1hQ4jV3g1W2-2TfL7f9gRNfPDdP5I8SQq3n-bgVR93pZAZUaRCHd8b9GCOMjn9lVY3WqoqSKQHnzCwuuYYMl-fxqaHA1YlZmclKTKqIlE8x4OJH9rNzMGxKJjweyuuyRlAOvUzr_JFo3S2WoS1cLK5aFNHqQpy82dwdHh3b0zAwCcdyCwQ/w394-h296/Well%2002%20Llanwnda%20carn.jpg" width="394" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The carn above Llanwnda Well</td></tr></tbody></table><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> – or… they can’t be found at all. Although Pembrokeshire is reputed to have 276 wells, there are many which have disappeared, or have become impossible to reach, due to changes in landscape and neglect by us all. I myself couldn’t find St Teilo’s the day I went looking for it. The roads around where it should be were so narrow and winding that it was difficult to stop. It is also said to be situated on private land – which is certainly true of others, and therefore they cannot be visited without the permission of the owner.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Between these two extremes are those wells in surprising or rather unsuitable places.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Perhaps the most extreme example of this is the well in St Bride’s Inn in Little Haven.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvvnp30Et0K6cgq0fFzNBS8KgvHUfi-9wVdcdPgZQOZuPOWVTrjw7krYHOXp_SQq9TljFKMYMR_Brjr_0w3bISc922ePvgZOGicw5RM7e9i05CVN1aAOQ4xgnPOzBQpxizlX4VLSLrezflZQMv9-gV8QFrFvam_DpDOdtjySrAeI3g9-VrKu4zbS7Zjg/s2048/Well%2003%20St%20Brides%20Inn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvvnp30Et0K6cgq0fFzNBS8KgvHUfi-9wVdcdPgZQOZuPOWVTrjw7krYHOXp_SQq9TljFKMYMR_Brjr_0w3bISc922ePvgZOGicw5RM7e9i05CVN1aAOQ4xgnPOzBQpxizlX4VLSLrezflZQMv9-gV8QFrFvam_DpDOdtjySrAeI3g9-VrKu4zbS7Zjg/w392-h295/Well%2003%20St%20Brides%20Inn.jpg" width="392" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Bride's Inn, Little Haven</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76mQ7-ObU13o1LhO9Xk-sEfg6FnMBMBFAJZepOzTBrEfRZVZHg7Pi0lw-JaDGwOAHeQ2jVZKbIZf_52OogPMR7l_uii_7ib4onUq68w1obb5soKte__fZHpdFFz7KDTi54DH5H2dPcsIeAT8XmnrzNH0fhd5blMuu21fr5zcWUnTWfZwJsdT-pgUXSQ/s2016/Well%2004%20St%20Brides%20Inn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76mQ7-ObU13o1LhO9Xk-sEfg6FnMBMBFAJZepOzTBrEfRZVZHg7Pi0lw-JaDGwOAHeQ2jVZKbIZf_52OogPMR7l_uii_7ib4onUq68w1obb5soKte__fZHpdFFz7KDTi54DH5H2dPcsIeAT8XmnrzNH0fhd5blMuu21fr5zcWUnTWfZwJsdT-pgUXSQ/w344-h457/Well%2004%20St%20Brides%20Inn.jpg" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well at St. Bride's Inn</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The well is actually situated through a door at the back of the bar. It has ‘shelves’ on either side, which look as if they would serve as seats for pilgrims to rest and bathe their feet, but have been more recently used as somewhere to cool beer-barrels. The owner of the Inn told me that it used to supply the water to the village, and indicated where the pipes carrying that water ran. He had no idea that there may be any ‘holy’ significance to the well. Perhaps he is right, and yet, with the pub being called St Bride’s, (Sant Ffraid), who knows?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Another rather inappropriate well-site, is that to be found along Solva harbour.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpMj6pEQgTdyReawP8Y5-Xdye3C5xgHGfCqcGO16t0mp8odPQRJV21n3aypPXFxMZBNYvmwmbY39iAk3r5ICWVRFgiTYecuBRxTeo1J7YlS7W_2d9eVukXpQTNiT36y24Jxf5LgLBAQjuYX-0d6zLzuT1AekvITZHceg86v2nFkEFKMY-bG7yUYJraw/s1632/Well%2007%20Solva.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1224" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpMj6pEQgTdyReawP8Y5-Xdye3C5xgHGfCqcGO16t0mp8odPQRJV21n3aypPXFxMZBNYvmwmbY39iAk3r5ICWVRFgiTYecuBRxTeo1J7YlS7W_2d9eVukXpQTNiT36y24Jxf5LgLBAQjuYX-0d6zLzuT1AekvITZHceg86v2nFkEFKMY-bG7yUYJraw/w336-h448/Well%2007%20Solva.jpeg" width="336" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well at Solva Harbour<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Where it is now is between a toilet block and a large boat (although the latter spends some of its time in the sea, hopefully). It seems such a shame that whoever decided to site a Public Convenience there didn’t see any value or beauty in the well.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The same can be said for the construction of the road leading to Whitesand’s beach which edges St Aidan’s (St Maedog’s) well to the side, and caused it to dry up. True, the well as it is now, isn’t a very appealing structure…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6m74bUa1-6bA7u5eAZ4noM-eYFXyhB6NCVhuSpGLIn7WXqrV4qkCr-MpQFBo4h9yZJ6jCA4GR8yeBosyOzVEAgCMR0ZPbQNcheXmrRggWtv1TQ32FPVjj-2Fpp_ZfbAeyla_opT7u7_ExTlDjAULqhqj2uoDuJj7gIDLe1VYaziOPMtcE0j_mmKFcQ/s1280/Well%2008%20Whitesands.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6m74bUa1-6bA7u5eAZ4noM-eYFXyhB6NCVhuSpGLIn7WXqrV4qkCr-MpQFBo4h9yZJ6jCA4GR8yeBosyOzVEAgCMR0ZPbQNcheXmrRggWtv1TQ32FPVjj-2Fpp_ZfbAeyla_opT7u7_ExTlDjAULqhqj2uoDuJj7gIDLe1VYaziOPMtcE0j_mmKFcQ/w419-h280/Well%2008%20Whitesands.jpeg" width="419" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Aidan's Well, Whitesands</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">… but it still has a significance as belonging to Aidan, a student of St David, founder and first bishop of Ferns, who has so many stories told about him… bringing the drowned back to life, taking bee hives back to Ireland, defeating an army. And it has some wonderful views from it, across to Carn Llidi – if only one didn’t have to stand in the road to appreciate them.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHGrP3DEEoeGwFmh1CcptkW2PCqqEus0TWDEtCQoE6xN9WElnJxubin7D8-lCigYp7LwEck8zZDMPIuJuGcfSZXr9l6_Q7T5nZqqryRGL5ZS9xx1QGtzWV_qceGh84jqED5QkcvPlfbuOkH-TwwAMQ5asNm9gmnp0v54SsWYzLR6DP6pEwltC_djegA/s1280/Well%2009%20Whitesands.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHGrP3DEEoeGwFmh1CcptkW2PCqqEus0TWDEtCQoE6xN9WElnJxubin7D8-lCigYp7LwEck8zZDMPIuJuGcfSZXr9l6_Q7T5nZqqryRGL5ZS9xx1QGtzWV_qceGh84jqED5QkcvPlfbuOkH-TwwAMQ5asNm9gmnp0v54SsWYzLR6DP6pEwltC_djegA/w425-h284/Well%2009%20Whitesands.jpeg" width="425" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Carn Llidi from St. Aidan's Well</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And then there are wells in gardens, in church-yards, in car-parks (or boat-parks, rather) as in Porthclais.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniCYKya3EejhcIfB89lvwt5BbDbc2ika6zxdCE_jV6N3aSMufz975mkP3FGvXYCqhsojxiiPM93i6x2ivcYvE8W_c221D1sLfk6op3Hxmin_v6RNIBOw-pHF4qpEDF6EKpLjt-_rmGJ31HokhVE9_ROA4pQiyPcTBuA1KXlBLbtoh0wvBsnsCYzS1oA/s1280/Well%2010%20Porthclais.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1280" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniCYKya3EejhcIfB89lvwt5BbDbc2ika6zxdCE_jV6N3aSMufz975mkP3FGvXYCqhsojxiiPM93i6x2ivcYvE8W_c221D1sLfk6op3Hxmin_v6RNIBOw-pHF4qpEDF6EKpLjt-_rmGJ31HokhVE9_ROA4pQiyPcTBuA1KXlBLbtoh0wvBsnsCYzS1oA/w433-h340/Well%2010%20Porthclais.jpeg" width="433" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well at Porthclais</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">This well is known as St David’s well (Ffynnon Ddewi) and is said to be where St David was baptised by St Elvi (Ailbhe, Aelbyw or Elvis) (although there is also a St Elvis’s well near Solva, which also lays claim to the baptism). Surely a very important connection and a site to look after. And yet, as it is now, it is very difficult to find and is very much overgrown.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And, in addition to wells being found in strange places, there are a surprising list of strange objects to be found where they are.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">That well at St Bride’s, for example, is guarded by an inflatable Welsh dragon.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">At Whitchurch well, you can pick up a pebble from the bottom of the water which is red on one side and white underneath. I had read about this, but was still surprised to see how the clear the colours were, and the distinction between them.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LjhnqW_I6erOqWFiZ6JY9ILhFBzx-ZdGeN1bXpWIZZZQFNfVSM7A0dO_8rlwj7lyw4TmAuEOZrcMN3VM7yfdRkyr6ZUYuk78BHyuOhTokHSb4Vv_JXuVl9emYIhQG_7lkBizha9B11qZd1sHPaS8-B45TXFHhKawpuVAUQBtX0JQ75vSKVzfy8EPkA/s1280/Well%2011%20Whitchurch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LjhnqW_I6erOqWFiZ6JY9ILhFBzx-ZdGeN1bXpWIZZZQFNfVSM7A0dO_8rlwj7lyw4TmAuEOZrcMN3VM7yfdRkyr6ZUYuk78BHyuOhTokHSb4Vv_JXuVl9emYIhQG_7lkBizha9B11qZd1sHPaS8-B45TXFHhKawpuVAUQBtX0JQ75vSKVzfy8EPkA/w451-h339/Well%2011%20Whitchurch.jpeg" width="451" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well at Whitchurch</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRuTy32NNf0oVrn_IfDJ-m8V9Z-hTTpsZF5jQEhG2HyORUSuXBMlueIaAQeAu6_wr--w141yjqQO-75-HHn_2SeUmRekr2UxY3NNwTTTXuVdS9nZ_aqHRYrOocx3Hl6tmH7whN4ZnOm7NwFYxUfeoI49tgPV43d7ohtF9RNwBGQZqGARFgbk1mOnMiQ/s640/Well%2012%20Stone.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRuTy32NNf0oVrn_IfDJ-m8V9Z-hTTpsZF5jQEhG2HyORUSuXBMlueIaAQeAu6_wr--w141yjqQO-75-HHn_2SeUmRekr2UxY3NNwTTTXuVdS9nZ_aqHRYrOocx3Hl6tmH7whN4ZnOm7NwFYxUfeoI49tgPV43d7ohtF9RNwBGQZqGARFgbk1mOnMiQ/w282-h376/Well%2012%20Stone.jpeg" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pebble from Whitchurch Well</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Of course, there are the usual offerings typical of wells, which may be found in the water or at the side of the well. Coins, pebbles, rags, candles.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And, although it is no longer there, for many years the skull of St Teilo was kept at his well, as a ladle to scoop the water from it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">No picture of this, but if anyone wants to see it, it is, apparently, in Llandaff Cathedral – or, at least, the top of it!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Strange, indeed!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica;"><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p></div>Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-13890442840055919332022-09-04T14:51:00.000+01:002022-09-04T14:51:43.875+01:00<h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Holy Wells – Connections, Ancient and Recent.</span></b></span></h2><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">It’s so strange that my last blog was about a workshop I attended with Ancient Connections.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I said then that I was going to use my blog for discussions about my stories, where they come from, how they develop from idea to page.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Sadly, that hasn’t happened – mainly because I’ve been too busy writing the stories… which is actually the best of reasons!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">And one of the main projects I’ve been working on this year, is a commission for… Ancient Connections.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtu0wUStuLOz9WJC0l1waxcjhmQWjW3HdxajUkY3sdFJOCoI54KghOB3CxWjp1pEwUL4UEAIF1OJPEBetXmpKxlfjAwPCitznrUTU_v_-lE_M_1ceJEn3e2CxRL-nEkYCy1I8ONx6kAhMwWAzzbJDKE0ibOcCfAmYjEnsSjH7_-BLxEmn04JqJiqubIg/s1207/Web%20blog%200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="1207" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtu0wUStuLOz9WJC0l1waxcjhmQWjW3HdxajUkY3sdFJOCoI54KghOB3CxWjp1pEwUL4UEAIF1OJPEBetXmpKxlfjAwPCitznrUTU_v_-lE_M_1ceJEn3e2CxRL-nEkYCy1I8ONx6kAhMwWAzzbJDKE0ibOcCfAmYjEnsSjH7_-BLxEmn04JqJiqubIg/w496-h209/Web%20blog%200.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I shouldn’t really be surprised at this synchronicity. It’s something I referred to in that last blog – how one story led to another, how research on one topic can open up previously unknown subjects – which lead to more stories.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">And I seem to come across it more and more often, lately. <o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">For example, while I was researching my novella, ‘The Sisters of Cynvael’, (to be published next year by Cinnamon Press), I found a site that said the best place to park for exploring the Cynfal River was a lay-by on the A470. So when Arachne Press was seeking submissions for its A470 poetry anthology, I remembered this, and thought the juxtaposition of the modern road and the mythological Cynfal valley would be a good basis for a poem. And so it turned out, when my poem, ‘Blodeuwedd Crosses the Road’, was chosen for publication in the book.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Similarly, the setting of my novella – a dense wood, leading up to mountains – suggested the setting of my story ‘The Quiet’, which featured in Honno’s Welsh Women Writing Crime anthology, ‘Cast a Long Shadow’.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">It was when I was working on these last autumn that Ancient Connections requested submissions of artistic work of various forms, including literature.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">As mentioned in that last blog, Ancient Connections is an arts, heritage and tourism project, linking North Pembrokeshire and North Wexford, further details of which can be found on their website </span><a class="" href="https://ancientconnections.org/"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">https://ancientconnections.org</span></a><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> This latest project was on the theme of holy wells in these areas, particularly, on the Pembrokeshire side, Fishguard, Goodwick and St David’s. <o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I decided to apply, with a brief suggesting short stories based on certain local wells (purely fictional representations), and was thrilled to have my proposal accepted, in a modified form, in order to combine it with the work of other artists, in a series. I am particularly delighted that my stories will be illustrated by the wonderfully talented Flora McLachlan, and will also be translated into Welsh. There will also be a Wexford equivalent, written by Michelle Dooley Mahon. It will be interesting to see our different approaches.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">So, leading up to the publication of the chapbook, I thought I would write a series of blogs about various Holy Wells in Pembrokeshire, ending with a more detailed look at my chosen Chapbook stories.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I’ll also publish these articles on my website, so that there will be a record of them on that, as well.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I’m going to begin with a general overview, here, before writing about individual wells, leading up to my own particular stories, further along.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">As I knew little about Pembrokeshire’s wells previously, it was necessary for me to begin with research. (Strangely enough, though, in another example of synchronicity, the short story I had most recently finished featured the one-time spring/well at St Edren’s church, a mile or two up the road from me – a place and piece of folklore I had come upon by chance, during lock-down. This story ‘A Cure for all our Ills’ has since been shortlisted for the Bristol Prize, and I love the fact that amid two thousand international entries this little corner of Pembrokeshire has stood out!)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">There are several useful sites on the internet, some specifically about Welsh wells, and others about wells in general. But there are two indispensable books necessary for the Welsh ‘well-hunter’. These are: ‘The Holy Wells of Wales’ by Francis Jones (1954, p/b edition University of Wales Press, 1992) and ‘The Living Wells of Wales’, by Phil Cope (Seren, 2019). As their titles suggest, these cover the whole of the country, but there is plenty about Pembrokeshire in both, partly on account of the prevalence of wells here. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Pembrokeshire has more wells than any other county, with Jones citing two hundred and thirty-six in his study. Ancient beliefs were often pushed to the margins of a country – and the belief in the power of well-water and the rituals surrounding it is certainly ancient. And, of course, Pembrokeshire is the ‘home’ of St. David, and numerous other saints. It was, therefore (and is!) a place of pilgrimage, and pilgrims need the sustenance and spiritual benefits such wells supply during their journeys.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxpBfrgaMKSt8IBrT2vhpsj9Zw2t4Vz8rMuwhw3A_ctxon-XE5wmBUi2DCATDWyauKscMlwzIDJRq6Ac79KdSTF0KCgYVET5UTSRHCoBNAoxYVEm5zH-ibTVShuFIhRHifROpkCfVvUaZ3JisSf5rHwUrlZwMwVGC7Fi34A9AZ7okWT7sZcltnWkdCA/s1632/Well%20blog%201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1224" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxpBfrgaMKSt8IBrT2vhpsj9Zw2t4Vz8rMuwhw3A_ctxon-XE5wmBUi2DCATDWyauKscMlwzIDJRq6Ac79KdSTF0KCgYVET5UTSRHCoBNAoxYVEm5zH-ibTVShuFIhRHifROpkCfVvUaZ3JisSf5rHwUrlZwMwVGC7Fi34A9AZ7okWT7sZcltnWkdCA/w300-h320/Well%20blog%201.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">It is hardly surprising that I found myself spoilt for choice – so many wells, so many interesting facts, so many stories told about them. </span></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I also began to visit some of them, including some that weren’t in the chosen area, to see them for myself, and to absorb the atmosphere surrounding them. In some cases, of course, this is vastly different from how it would have been centuries ago, as are the wells themselves. This is something it is important to remember. What we ‘see’ and what we ‘know’ may have very little to do to how things were, when the wells were visited for simple village needs, Christian purposes, and for ‘pagan’ practices. <o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Folklore and stories passed down through the generations may give us some insight into the latter. With regard to the religious, Rhygyfarch’s ‘Life of Saint David’ is the source of much information, but it was written in the eleventh century, five hundred years after David’s death.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">It is therefore necessary to take it all with a pinch of salt, which is, actually, very freeing for the writer, as you can let your imagination run wild. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I decided on a few key points from the start – I would understand ‘holy’ in not purely Christian terms; I wanted to stress the value of water in all its forms;<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">and, most particularly, I wanted to write from a female point of view – to reclaim the wells for women. After all, women were the original guardians of the wells, and appear on the edges of many of the tales. Now I wanted to put them centre stage.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">St Non is, of course, an obvious choice for this. Her well, in its beautiful location, on the cliff-tops between her son’s cathedral and the sea, is still visited by pilgrims today, as she is still celebrated as the mother of our patron saint.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaUbhTgVLJqBBDi7mysBOogwUqGJGxN6glnxsRQe8r3kLsOCfOXIxe2s79UIPCs1bPEEqrwSNL2bgzXjCdDMJLycAcI08wJaKuScjjAJ4GSfPkBePGvkMPfg-9ISK_1qr71W1dTISYrvhHU2RxGzE3MPam48XPBGZKSLZsHo7b9eYWndiL7IT1FpXGg/s1280/Well%20blog%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaUbhTgVLJqBBDi7mysBOogwUqGJGxN6glnxsRQe8r3kLsOCfOXIxe2s79UIPCs1bPEEqrwSNL2bgzXjCdDMJLycAcI08wJaKuScjjAJ4GSfPkBePGvkMPfg-9ISK_1qr71W1dTISYrvhHU2RxGzE3MPam48XPBGZKSLZsHo7b9eYWndiL7IT1FpXGg/w449-h245/Well%20blog%202.JPG" width="449" /></span></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Another well in a gorgeous setting is St Gwyndaf’s (St Wnda) in Llanwnda. I was lucky enough to visit it for the first time on a day of blue sky and sea, and Spring colour. The hamlet has become famous for its role in the Last Invasion and its lovely church. But the well offers another story – or many more stories.<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">And I had learnt by then that St Gwyndaf had a wife.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsHYQhmZaDPuCBVGx262mhhCKpPxBVDPhLDIfDZ8_Oek72VEpQkrXhV7ejsp8y2WoHGWXlTugJa2UsVBDeaae5OdY-XmacgyIW5bPLKL7FH1mvff0_NA8sCBmopt0j2cxKE3MoN19KNWVt1dUQaBUTf5OqmBgfC7f3ikldf3Q-Yg_W49I66coomVwHQ/s2048/Well%20blog%203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsHYQhmZaDPuCBVGx262mhhCKpPxBVDPhLDIfDZ8_Oek72VEpQkrXhV7ejsp8y2WoHGWXlTugJa2UsVBDeaae5OdY-XmacgyIW5bPLKL7FH1mvff0_NA8sCBmopt0j2cxKE3MoN19KNWVt1dUQaBUTf5OqmBgfC7f3ikldf3Q-Yg_W49I66coomVwHQ/w442-h249/Well%20blog%203.JPG" width="442" /></span></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-mqBNitCgFHFReFrjbuvQknSzdlzPwiLdgLUf8Bm2T9v2h5c4A5yFbes9OnFZxVNdQLvCxv0GS0LKmyn3QbnaKkKHa7gpHLXcWQev3Xh_1bhLRTpx1O2wL6yFpA2GVXL7ZvDxoKU58NT3yd3-HkmJSwwQaWje3JcoPp8LeD2Kie0DeDpQpOqcp5_Aw/s640/Well%20blog%204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-mqBNitCgFHFReFrjbuvQknSzdlzPwiLdgLUf8Bm2T9v2h5c4A5yFbes9OnFZxVNdQLvCxv0GS0LKmyn3QbnaKkKHa7gpHLXcWQev3Xh_1bhLRTpx1O2wL6yFpA2GVXL7ZvDxoKU58NT3yd3-HkmJSwwQaWje3JcoPp8LeD2Kie0DeDpQpOqcp5_Aw/w440-h314/Well%20blog%204.JPG" width="440" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">So I decided to write about St Non, and Gwenonwy, Gwyndaf’s wife. Non has been written about so many times, whereas little is known or written about Gwenonwy. Word count was limited, so I settled on a short piece on Non, and a longer account of what may, or may not, have happened to Gwenonwy at Llanwnda.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">And, fortunately, the resulting work was approved by the Ancient Connections team, and it won’t be long before it goes to press, and is launched into the world.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">But with so much fascinating material out there, I fully intend to write more stories in the future. And I shall also be visiting the wells again. Some of them are to be found in neglected spaces, so it is a pleasure to follow pathways normally untrodden, to see what lies at their end – a new way of exploring our wonderful county.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Some, indeed, are in the strangest of places – more of which in my next post.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span class="" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-83182575039433175712019-12-03T15:02:00.000+00:002019-12-03T15:02:02.447+00:00Talking Tales Again<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I feel I’ve been neglecting my blog recently – mainly because I’ve got a new website, (Dianapowellwriter.com) and most of the news about events, publications etc. is being posted on there.</span><div>
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For a while, I started wondering if there was any point continuing with it, as I didn’t want to simply duplicate what I wanted to say. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But a couple of weeks ago I attended a Story Search/Workshop organised by the Ancient Connections Project, and that helped me to change my mind, and led me in a new direction just for the blog.</div>
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Ancient Connections has been set up specifically to promote links across the sea, between Pembrokeshire and Ireland – from the starting point of St David (bishop of St David’s) and St Aidan (Bishop of Ferns, in Wexford). It also has a broader brief of cross-border arts and heritage. But it is also concerned with communities, the people within those communities, and the discovery of their own, very special, local knowledge about the area. Stories, in other words.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was totally amazed by the amount of this knowledge among some of the participants, particularly those who had lived in Pembrokeshire all their lives, and those involved in the local history society.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In truth, I felt woefully ignorant beside them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But something I <i>was</i>able to contribute centred on the information I’d researched for one of my short stories, ‘Sea Change’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was a piece I’d written in response to a submission call-out by Arachne Press for their 2019 Solstice Shorts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Arachne Press is a wonderful indie press, run almost single-handedly by Cherry Potts, with an incredible amount of energy and hard work. Their Solstice Shorts Festival is a mix of poems, stories and songs, held every year on December 21<sup>st</sup>(the Winter Solstice), followed by the publication of an anthology.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was thrilled to have another story ‘Noon Child Unknown’ chosen for last year’s Solstice call-out, ‘Noon’. This year, their subject was ‘Time and Tide’, and they were looking for work about those living beside the water, or travelling over it, to be performed in several venues throughout the country, on the coast and on rivers. Living in a coastal county, and loving the sea, it seemed exactly the right topic for me, and I decided I’d like to write a story set in Wales – Pembrokeshire, if possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I started off looking for a story about a seaside settlement, abandoned by its inhabitants, on account of the rising sea levels. Although it would be historical, this would, of course, resonate with the theme of climate change, and what is happening in plenty of places today. Fairbourne in North Wales, is one such place. Another classic example of this nature is from Hallsands, in Devon.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But I couldn’t find evidence of the same situation based in Pembrokeshire, and I was still hoping to make this my setting, even though the Hallsands tale was very tempting.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then, during my research, I came across a reference to some abandoned houses, not far from the coast, only a few miles away from where I live. True, this wasn’t exactly what I’d been looking for – there was no direct connection to environmental factors – but there were still intriguing elements within the tale. There was little left of the hamlet now, beyond a few ruined stone walls, and a line of white stones leading to the sea. One local belief held it to be a Quaker village, with some talk that the villagers had been driven away – even, possibly, by the poisoning of their well. But whatever the truth of this, it was almost certain that whoever lived there walked along that path, to the coast, and found their livelihood in the sea. This provided the bare bones of my story. I added a sprinkling of myth – well, there have to be selkies, don’t there? And ghosts. And a possible land across the sea, which materialised into America, where the Quakers departed to, with my main character following in their footsteps… or their boat wakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So there was history, there was time, there was tide, and I was pleased with my story, and even more so when Arachne accepted it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But it was particularly rewarding because I had discovered some local history that I had been completely unaware of before. And as I say, I was able to pass on my new-found knowledge to the Ancient Connections workshop, and add another tale to the wealth of stories that Pembrokeshire possesses, from the Prehistoric to the present day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The story will be read at Holyhead, and I myself will read it at Greenwich. It will be live-streamed, therefore stretching across the world. This corner of Pembrokeshire will be echoed across the airwaves.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And after I’d finished ‘Sea Change’, because I had come across so many marvellous tales of the ocean, I wrote another story, ‘Ballast’, which was also accepted for the Solstice Festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m also sure that, one day, I will go back to my idea of a village lost to the waves and weather.<o:p></o:p></div>
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More connections, more words, more stories. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Which is what this blog is going to be about in future – words about my stories, where they come from, how they developed from idea to page. What happened to them afterwards, maybe. Talking Tales, again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-60305741159122446602019-08-18T09:43:00.000+01:002019-08-18T09:43:42.885+01:00Talking Tales at Llangwm Literary Festival, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This time, a year ago, I wrote about reading from ‘Esther Bligh’ in the open mic event at Llangwm Literary Festival in Pembrokeshire.</span></div>
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Last weekend, I was thrilled to be back at Llangwm, particularly as I was now one of the featured authors. I was taking part in a discussion led by Philippa Davies, along with Chloe Turner, whose collection of stories, ‘Witches Sail in Eggshells’, was published earlier this year. This book, together with ‘Esther Bligh’, deals with dark subjects and strange happenings – hence the event’s billing as ‘Tales of the Unexpected’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Below is an edited version of our conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Llangwm is a relatively new festival. This is its fourth year, and it has already established itself in the Welsh literary calendar, with a mix of presenters, themes and entertainments. And all set in the picturesque village on the Cleddau estuary, with so many of the locals pitching in, to help Michael Pugh, chief organiser, make this such a successful occasion.</div>
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And festivals are new for me, from the point of view of discussion, at least. It’s not so long ago that I was writing in my blog about my nervousness about reading aloud. Now, I am happy to do that, and was quite at ease reading from ‘Esther Bligh’ last week. But talking about my work is a different thing. There was Penfro last year, (see earlier blog), and now this.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve written about my feelings concerning the process for the Blue Nib magazine. You can see it at <a href="https://thebluenib.com/diana-powell-at-llangwm-literary-festival/" style="color: purple;">https://thebluenib.com/diana-powell-at-llangwm-literary-festival/</a></div>
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Why ‘The Blue Nib’? Because their press is publishing my short story collection ‘Trouble Crossing the Bridge’ in December, and I was able to announce this during my interview.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In my blog about Penfro, I said how special that festival was, because of my association with it in a number of ways. Now I also feel that Llangwm is special, because the publication of my collection has been a long-time goal, and this was the first public airing of what is, to me, wonderful news.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Having said that, I think Llangwm would be memorable, anyway, on account of the atmosphere, location and wide appeal. And because of the encouragement and support it has given me as a local author – something I am so grateful for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So thank you, Llangwm, Michael Pugh, Philippa Davies and all the team. And thank you, of course, Blue Nib!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-24436813906619355562019-08-16T10:01:00.001+01:002019-08-16T10:03:58.106+01:00Woman of West Wales<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Recently, I was lucky enough to take part in a project initiated by Emma Baines, of Narberth Museum, archiving the histories of the Women of West Wales. The brief was to pick a woman living in the area, pre-1945, write a poem about her, and make a video-film to accompany it. The finished works would be shown at Llangwm Literature Festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is my contribution.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p>The poem is about my grandmother, Eilwen Morgan. She was not famous in any way, but she was, most certainly, a woman of West Wales.</div>
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‘Home’ is often the place we grow up in, where our parents were settled longest. For my grandmother, that was Cilrhedyn, in the Cych Valley, the parish where her father was Vicar, until his death in 1933. And she still called it home, long after she had married and had children, and was living in Llanelli, quite a different part of West Wales.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why did I choose to write about my grandmother? I rather think, now, that she chose me. I’m not a poet – short stories, a novella, a novel, maybe – but I don’t write poetry. So, at first, when Philippa Davies, writer and organiser, messaged me about attending a poetry workshop, with a view to producing a piece for the project, I said ‘no’. Besides, I was due to be away that weekend. Then, as it turned out, I would only be gone on the Sunday, so I could get there, after all. And I thought ‘why not?’ – an interesting subject with a great crowd of people. If nothing else, a good way to spend a Saturday morning! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I looked at the Women of West Wales archive on the Narberth Museum site and was amazed by the stories I found there – so much fascinating material for the writer. But as I was a bit rushed, I thought perhaps I would write about someone I knew, someone real to me. And I thought of my godmother, Olive Evans, the wife of the Vicar of Camrose, who was descended from Welsh princes – which is surely famous enough. After all, there was a quarter-page feature about her in the Western Mail, which I’d cut out years ago, and carefully put away. But when I was digging out this article, I came across a school photo of my grandmother, and she was the only girl smiling out of the whole class, something I found intriguing. So I took that photo along to the workshop, as well as the newspaper clipping about Olive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the beginning, I found myself writing about the two of them – the Vicar’s daughter, and the Vicar’s wife. They were great friends all their lives, though quite different characters, and I thought I could balance these contradictions in a poem. But as the session went on, my godmother somehow fell by the wayside, and I was writing only about my grandmother, that once-smiling child, almost as if by instinct – which is why I say she chose me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My grandmother was, in many ways, the perfect idea of a grandmother. She always had sweets for us, gave us sixpence once a week, bought our favourite treats if we went for tea. But she was also an alcoholic, and when she’d been drinking, she wasn’t my grandmother at all. This is how it seemed in our childhood, and I reference this at the end of the poem. The Parma violets and lavender handkerchief were there to hide the drink on her breath, but I always knew there was something strange about her, and didn’t like it one bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And as I grew up, I would wonder why she was like this, what had happened to her to make her turn to alcohol for comfort. Of course, perhaps there doesn’t have to be a ‘something’, but there usually is, and it tends to be something secret – as her drinking was to most people. Such things were rarely talked about in those days.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Visiting the Cych Valley had been on my ‘to do’ list since we moved to Pembrokeshire a few years ago, but somehow we’d never got round to it, perhaps because the call of the sea beckoned louder. Writing about my grandmother was the push I needed, and I’m so glad I did. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s often described as hidden, partly because it’s off the ‘main’ road, and also perhaps because it was a subject of boundary changes in the past, which moved it between Pembrokeshire and Carmarthenshire and back again (further confused by the fact that the closest county town was Cardigan). It is also a tangle of streams, which are very difficult to separate. Cych, Cneifa, Dulas, Pedran.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wanted to see the church where my great-grandfather preached, and the grave, maybe. But that was something else difficult to find. Where was the churchyard? The church itself? I knew it had been demolished, but surely there would be visible ruins inside a wall or railings. We knew where it should be, from a lot of Googling, and instructions from my sister, Penny, who had visited years before. But we could see nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, as I say in my poem, the yews pointed the way. Still, the church was all but impossible to make out, until you were within touching distance, and I had to scramble through brambles, nettles and saplings until I discovered the grave where both my great-grandparents were buried. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So all these factors coming together gave me the theme of my poem ‘What is hidden’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Something else about the Cych Valley – it’s called ‘magical’. It features in the Mabinogion as the place where Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed meets Arawn, Lord of the Underworld. Indeed, it is thought to be one of the possible sites of the Underworld, another hidden place, whose entrance is often said to be located where tributaries meet, or beneath yews, or at the Ffynone Falls, to the north of Cilrhedyn. So, again, everything was fitting into the theme, even though I had no idea at the start that this was where the story would lead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the video to go with the poem, I was able to combine real footage taken by my husband during our visits, with some old photos kept by Penny, many of which showed my grandmother at her home here, in her younger, happier days. It was fascinating to go through these and re-connect with my grandmother in that way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve still got no idea what made my grandmother drink. But writing this poem was a pleasure in so many ways – the discovery of the Cych Valley, that re-connection, finding the grave. And it is a particular pleasure to have been involved in this truly worthwhile project, to reveal and share some incredible women of the area with a greater audience. The response at Llangwm was overwhelmingly positive, the variety of the women, poems and films amazing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thank you to Narberth Museum, Emma Baines, Philippa Davies and Llangwm festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt;"> And thanks, too, to film-maker extraordinaire, David Powell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-83683558317575554172019-05-19T16:38:00.001+01:002019-05-19T16:38:25.385+01:00On "Whale Watching"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For a writer, there’s always something rather thrilling about featuring in a competition. It doesn’t matter if it’s a short-listing, a long-listing (I’ve talked about this in an earlier blog), or highly-commended – all of these are an indication that your story has met a certain writing standard, as judged by a knowledgeable reader, or readers. (There’s an interesting article on this subject by Kit de Waal on the Bridport Competition site.)</div>
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Earlier this year, I was short-listed for the H. E. Bates prize, for my story ‘Miss Bird Catches a Wave’, which was long-listed for last year’s Yeovil Prize. This is great – it’s telling me that two quite distinct sets of judging panels consider this particular work to be of note. It’s a story I myself think well of, so it’s good to have this external, objective approval.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another piece I was especially pleased with was one called ‘Whale Watching’. After you’ve been writing short stories for a while, you tend to get a feeling for what’s good, what’s okay, and yes, sadly, sometimes, what is bad (you really shouldn’t have written this; what did you think you were doing…?!) ‘Whale Watching’ I liked from the first stirrings of the idea, through to the final draft. I also liked the fact that it was set in Fishguard, which I would now call my home town. The story centres around a narrator who, as a little girl, witnessed the filming of ‘Moby Dick’ in the lower harbour – a true event, which took place in nineteen fifty-four. The film starred Gregory Peck, and Richard Basehart, and was directed by John Huston, and is celebrated as part of Fishguard’s colourful history, although it tends to be rather over-shadowed by the later ‘Under Milk Wood’, which brought Richard Burton into the many pubs, happily drinking with the locals. Still, you will find ‘Moby Dick’ commemorated in the local heritage centre, and as part on the mosaics on the Goodwick sea front.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Film-making, perhaps more than any other form of arts genre, plays tricks with reality. The camera (which certainly can lie), the editing, the ‘acting’, the props, the stunts – all these fool the viewer. The rumours surrounding this particular filming are legendary. Was there a life-size white whale? One? Two? Three? Did Gregory Peck get swept out to sea, strapped to its flank? Did the coastguard have to be called?! It is hard to discover the truth from … not, perhaps, ‘lies’, but ‘fabrications for the purposes of publicity’. Or perhaps it was no more than poor memory, after the event.</span></div>
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Because memory is something that plays tricks, too. So it is for the narrator in my story. Seeing the filming was the highlight of her childhood, and remained the greatest excitement of her life. She is obsessed with it, as Ahab was obsessed with the whale. But what she remembers is not necessarily what really happened. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I entered ‘Whale Watching’ for the Chipping Norton Festival short story prize. Despite my feelings that it was a good story, in the end, you never know. Luck has to come into it. And taste. There is such variety in the short story form, it is impossible to please all the judges all of the time. You may just submit to the wrong competition (which is why it’s important not to be too down-hearted if your story gets nowhere, and to keep at it, if you honestly believe your piece has merit.) </div>
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At the beginning of March, I received an email listing the short-listed titles, in alphabetical order. Of course, as mine was called ‘Whale Watching’ it came at the end of the list of twelve, and by the time I reached it, I’d already written myself off, so it was a pleasant surprise to see I had made it through, after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Those twelve stories were then passed to judge Nicholas Royle, for his final judging.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nicholas Royle has written three collections of short stories, and edited twenty anthologies. He is a reader in creative writing in Manchester Writing School, runs his own press, and works as an editor for Salt publishing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So this is someone who is an expert in the field, both as writer and editor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Did I stand a chance?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, in late March, the ‘winners’ email arrived – the three top-placed stories. And first was Diana Powell. It took me a few re-readings to realise I had actually won. And a few more days of waiting for an email telling me they’d made a mistake, before I fully accepted it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Besides the actual monetary prize, (which is always very welcome!), the Festival held an Awards Ceremony, in which Nicholas himself commented on the top three stories, and who doesn’t feel happy to receive such praise!? The word ‘masterful’ is in there somewhere.</div>
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Not only that, but as an additional bonus, my story, along with the second and third placed, was read out by LAMDA-trained actor, Karen Jackson. I’ve read my own work before, and I know I’ve improved over time, but to hear your entire story read by a professional is quite an experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Below is a short section of a recording from the ceremony.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Whale Watching’ can be read in full on the Festival website: <a href="http://www.chiplitfest.com/" style="color: purple;">www.chiplitfest.com</a></div>
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Thanks to all involved in the Festival, particularly Cathy Evans for organising the competition, and Nicholas Royle, and Karen Jackson.</div>
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And thanks, too, to ‘Moby Dick’ and the inspiration it gave me.</div>
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And the icing on the cake? Nicholas Royle says ‘Whale Watching’ will be included in next year’s ‘Best of British Short Stories’. Wow!<o:p></o:p></div>
Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-57254625453046970302019-04-14T16:39:00.002+01:002019-04-14T16:39:45.469+01:00Springtime!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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An interesting and varied couple of weeks, after the hibernation of a rather long winter in the depths of west Wales – or so it seemed at times…</div>
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March 21<sup>st</sup>saw the launch of the Solstice Noon anthology, including my story ‘Noon Child Unknown.’ Sadly, I couldn’t make any of the actual launches (there were three, and there was cake!), but the anthology itself is full of captivating poems and stories, by many talented authors. An especially big ‘thank you’ to Cherry Potts of Arachne Press, for publishing the book – her hard work is much appreciated.</div>
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I was thrilled to have my story ‘The Cabinet of Immortal Wonders’ featured in Issue 37 of ‘The Blue Nib.’ This was a story that was short-listed for the 2016 Over-the-Edge New Writers’ Competition, and one that I really wanted to appear in print, so it could be read by others. I was particularly delighted by Fiction Editor Mimi Gladman’s comments about it. Such a great feeling when an editor appreciates your work!</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>Then, on Thursday, 4<sup>th</sup>April, I was lucky enough to read at First Thursday, in Chapter Arts, Cardiff, in the company of Damian Walford Davies – a debut fiction writer (me) alongside a well-published and distinguished poet. I had a fifteen minute reading slot, which meant I could read more of ‘Esther Bligh’ than usual, and I think (hope) I managed to link extracts that worked well together, and gave a flavour of the book, as a whole. </div>
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I am extremely grateful to Amy Wack of Seren Books, and Leona Esther Medlin (Mulfran Press) for this opportunity in front of a knowledgeable, appreciative audience. And thanks, also, to Damian for his support.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A week later I attended an interview between Gaby Wood (literary director of the Booker Prize Foundation) and prize-winning author Sarah Hall, at Faber and Faber, Bloomsbury. It is always useful to be given an insight into the working methods of a great exponent of the art of the short story form. And although it can be humbling, it can also be inspiring – I came away with some fresh ideas, and a new way to approach a story I was about to give up on. </div>
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Talking of prize-winning… More to follow…</div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-62536732813352238432019-01-14T16:15:00.000+00:002019-01-14T16:15:09.746+00:00A short review of the year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The highlight of 2018 was, of course, the publication of ‘Esther Bligh’ in June, by Holland House Books… the highlight of my writing ‘career’, in fact! Hence, the novella’s centre place in the photo.</div>
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Beneath it are the other journals or anthologies my stories featured in last year. I’m proud of these, too, because I love the short story form, and it’s something I always return to. So it was great to appear in ‘The Dawntreader’, ‘Leicester Writes Short Story Prize Anthology’, ‘The Cinnamon Review of Short Fiction’ and ‘Dream Catcher 37’. Thanks to those editors for liking my stories! And to them, the publishers, and fellow contributors for producing some excellent representations of the short form.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Otherwise, there were a number of readings, mainly of ‘Esther’ in a variety of venues, including the launch (best moment!), Tregwynt Manor, Llangwm Festival, and a Cinnamon reading in London. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was a particular pleasure to take part in Penfro festival, as a writer, after several years as a visitor, or competition entrant (see my earlier blog on this).</div>
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All of these were greatly enjoyable and, again, I am grateful to all the organisers, with a special thank-you to Seaways Bookshop, Fishguard, for hosting my launch.<o:p></o:p></div>
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2018 also seemed to be a year for long-listing. I was long-listed for the Leicester Writes prize, the Yeovil prize, the Cinnamon Debut Fiction prize, as well as a bursary I applied to.<o:p></o:p></div>
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How one feels about long-listing often depends on the mood of the moment. If, as a writer, you are in one of those ‘dark’ places, when rejection follows rejection, and you are dissatisfied with your work, then being long-listed can feel rather like ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride.’ You may wonder why you are not making the jump up to being placed. Is there something not quite right with your work, which is putting judges off? Will you ever make it further?<o:p></o:p></div>
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But if you are in a positive state of mind, you can be thrilled to get long-listed, decide you must have written a good story – something that made it stand out from the crowd; it was merely a preference of the judge(s) that stopped it getting a prize. Quite often, being long-listed gets the story included in an anthology (as happened with the Leicester Competition), and this is always to be welcomed, helping to get you and your work out there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And really, it is better to think this way, whichever mood you are in. As writers, we need all the positivity and encouragement we can get – even if it is from ourselves…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-7075513232728490382018-12-01T17:05:00.000+00:002018-12-01T17:05:44.562+00:00On Libraries…<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<o:p> </o:p>From Fishguard Library,</div>
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To Llanelli Library,</div>
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Or should that be the other way around?</div>
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A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of reading from ‘Esther Bligh’ in my local library, at Fishguard.</div>
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As someone who has worked as a branch-librarian, and in a college library, this was a particular pleasure, along with seeing my book displayed on the shelves.</div>
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I was lucky enough to grow up in a house full of books, but many writers will have started their reading lives in libraries, leading them on to writing in the future… and, perhaps, to that proud moment.</div>
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The branch-library where I worked was in Talgarth, a few miles down the road from Hay-on-Wye, a job I loved in a place I loved. It was a joy to serve such wonderful people, and help them find the books they might like, or provide them with any information they may need. Sadly, our borrowing figures were never very high, and every week I gave thanks to the family who borrowed up to thirty westerns in one go, as long as we had been able to get new stock in – or even if we had not.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The college facility, or Learning Resources Centre, was a rather different affair, and the students were more challenging than my village neighbours, but it was still great to spend my days working surrounded by books.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, last Saturday, I took part in a Book Fair in Llanelli Library – another special venue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Llanelli Library would have been the first I ever visited – probably with my grandmother, who lived just up the road, and was a keen reader, borrowing a new pile of books every fortnight.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course, the building has been modernised since then, with almost a ‘funky’ interior of lime-green and black. But this extension was built onto the original building, which has been kept with original features, and so it was possible to walk up the stairs and feel myself going back in time, treading in the footsteps of my grandmother, my younger self, and many family and friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And some of those friends were kind enough to visit my stand, along with the regular Saturday morning library-users.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The library was a great venue for a Book Fair – spacious, comfortable, with tea and biscuits provided, along with a warm welcome from the librarians. So thank you, to all at Llanelli, for organising and arranging, and making us feel at home.</div>
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It can be a strange feeling when past and present get mixed together. In this instance, it was a pleasurable experience.</div>
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It’s something that happens in ‘Esther Bligh’, but there, of course, it’s a much darker affair.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-73794444099769785432018-10-07T13:47:00.002+01:002018-10-07T13:47:59.669+01:00London Launch of Cinnamon Review of Short Fiction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When you live in a rural location, a trip to London is always something of an adventure. We tend to come back saying ‘it’s like another planet.’ And it is, when compared with the far west of Wales.</div>
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But interacting with an alien culture is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly when the reason for doing so is a rather special occasion – and last month’s visit to the big city to read at the launch of the Cinnamon Review of Short fiction was certainly one of those.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The event had been organised to allow for introductions, chat and refreshments before the readings, with further socialising afterwards – a great idea, which worked well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was a pleasure to meet up with Jan and Adam again, and to meet other Cinnamon writers, who are all so friendly, as well as talented. And all this in the unique setting of the music room in a private house in Great Ormond Street, adding to the sense of occasion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The readers were Kate Mitchell, Jane McLaughlin, Jez Noond, Sarah Barr, David Mark Williams, Isabelle Llasera and myself, whilst Tamsin Hopkins talked about the writing process.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once again, the variety of the short story form was apparent – variety in subject matter, theme, style, genre – and indeed, delivery. The audience were responsive and kind, contributing to an enjoyable, entertaining evening, which flew by.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So a big thank you to Tamsin Hopkins for organising, and to Jan and Adam for the work they do at Cinnamon, and to all the other writers, who contributed to making both the launch and the anthology so impressive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-10425274536734214392018-09-29T17:13:00.000+01:002018-09-29T17:15:31.807+01:00PENfro Book Festival, 2018 – Writers’ Panel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Taking part in PENfro Book Festival earlier in September was a special moment for me. I was there, as a published writer, featuring in a Writers’ Panel, in which I discussed my work, and in particular, my novella, Esther Bligh. In fact, according to the adverts for the programme, I was one of the Sunday morning ‘stars’…!</span><br />
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I think it was in 2013 that I attended my first PENfro, not long after moving here. It had been wonderful to discover that Pembrokeshire had its very own literature festival, providing workshops and talks by some top writers – and to find that it was held in the beautiful setting of Rhosygilwen Mansion was an added bonus. It was worth a visit simply to explore the grounds, and sample their quiche and cake!<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then, the following year, I won the Short Story prize, for my story ‘Ingrid, Audrey and Jean.’ No-one was more surprised than I was, and I still worry that I didn’t thank anyone when I received my prize – I was in such a daze! It was a real boost to my writing – an indication that my work had some value. Particularly inspiring were the words of the judge, Maria Donovan, who said: ‘This is a short story perfectly in tune with itself. From its enigmatic title and first arresting image to the underlying themes of escape and belonging, it always keeps ahead of expectations. Calm, confident and disturbing: a treat to read and re-read.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was rather a case of ‘oh, did I really write that story?!’<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because of these comments, Maria is one of the two authors I acknowledge at the end of ‘Esther Bligh’, along with Helen Carey, for helping me believe that I could write.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The story was later chosen to be included in the anthology ‘Secondary Character and other stories’, a collection by the Welsh Short Story Network, published by Opening Chapter. This was the first time for my work to appear in a book – another proud moment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I read ‘Ingrid…’ at Rhosygilwen the following year, one of my first experiences of open mic. So it is no wonder I have a lot to thank PENfro and Maria for, on account of that story alone. It still remains one of my favourites.</div>
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In that next year, 2015, I was commended for the Memoir Prize, a result I was more than happy with, as this was a new genre for me, and my piece is still the only ‘personal essay’ I’ve written.</div>
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In 2016, I was short-listed for the ‘First Chapter’ competition, with my YA novel, since put to one side, but another useful validation of my work.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And now, this year, to appear on the other side of the table has been another significant step on my journey as a writer – which was, indeed, the theme of the panel. I was there along side Hilary Shepherd, another fiction writer, whose novel ‘Albi’ was published earlier this year. The talk was facilitated by Brenda Squires, chair of the festival committee and owner of the beautiful Rhosygilwen, who effortlessly prompted us with questions about the writing process, in relation to our recent publications. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Writers’ Forum at Tregwynt had started me thinking about such things (see previous blog), and this was an opportunity to delve deeper into the issues raised. ‘How did ‘Esther’ come about?’ ‘What has it meant to you?’ ‘What are your experiences of the publishing process?’ – these questions were about my novella, but we were also asked how we came to writing, and where our journey was taking us next.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With all this in mind, I started a sort of ‘writing journal’, where I put my thoughts on various topics, and also quotes from other writers, that I feel echo my own views. It’s very useful to see where patterns emerge, so that you begin to think ‘yes, that’s where I am with my writing.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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We both read from our work, and ended with questions from the audience, which can be a scary moment, as it could be about something you haven’t thought of at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, a big thank you to PENfro, to Brenda, and all the committee, for inviting me. And to Hilary, for being there with me. And to the audience, who were very forgiving, and who did applaud at the end, which is encouraging! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Pembrokeshire now has another literature festival, at Llangwm, in August. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I, personally, think the county has enough room for two (if not more!), as there is sufficient variety between them. And, with a wealth of local talent, and top writers from further afield more than happy to visit our beautiful part of the world, I see no reason why they should not both be able to continue to flourish. But I suspect that PENfro will always have a special place in my heart. It seems quite appropriate that the subject of the panel was The Writer’s Journey, as PENfro has been such an important part of mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-2608833211578676932018-08-12T16:13:00.000+01:002018-08-12T16:13:40.759+01:00Reading at Llangwm Literary Festival<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday, I had the pleasure of reading in the open mic at Llangwm Literary Festival.</div>
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(It was raining, hence the wet hair…)<o:p></o:p></div>
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I read the opening of ‘Esther Bligh’, then answered a few questions about writing, from organiser Philippa Davies and the audience, including one about the novella form, reminding me it’s a subject I want to consider more carefully.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p>The readings included prose, poetry, historical non-fiction, memoir, and biography – a great variety, which made for an entertaining event.</div>
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Llangwm festival is only three years old, yet it has already become established in the literary calendar, and attracts some of the best writers, performers, artists and foragers (Julia Horton-Powdrill!). Even in the rain, the village is delightful, and the people are so friendly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After the open mic, I was lucky enough to see Dervla Murphy talking about her travels. She is eighty-six now, and says there will be no more, but she has given us some of the best travel literature of recent years. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So… thank you again to Philippa, and Michael Pugh, and all who work so hard to put on this fascinating weekend.<o:p></o:p></div>
Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-79494888181230572732018-07-29T16:07:00.001+01:002018-07-29T16:07:52.214+01:00Writers Forum – Tregwynt<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
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On Thursday, I had my first opportunity since the launch to read from, and talk about, ‘Esther Bligh’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was in the beautiful setting of Tregwynt Manor, at a Writers’ Forum, arranged by Fishguard Arts Society. The Society is a local organisation which embraces all the arts, and we are very lucky to have it in this part of the world.</div>
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I was one of four writers taking part, the others being Helen Carey, Carly Holmes and Alex Barr. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Between us, there was a varied mix of writing styles and subjects, which, I think (hope!) made for an entertaining and interesting evening.</div>
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Having been asked to take part in the Forum, I realised I had to think about the writing process – where ‘Esther Bligh’ had come from, how it had evolved, etc. ‘What is it about?’! These are things you don’t necessarily have in your mind while you are writing – you are too lost in the story, which, at that time, is the only thing that matters. This is particularly true, if you don’t plan your book out – something I tend not to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So it’s been good to start considering such topics, working out the answers to possible questions. In fact, it has been a valuable and useful exercise, with thoughts not just about ‘Esther’ but all my work. Are there common themes, subjects, characters, settings? Is ‘Esther Bligh’ autobiographical in any way? (I was at pains here to say I had never tried to suffocate my husband – he was, actually, sitting in the audience). <o:p></o:p></div>
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One thing I concluded, with particular reference to ‘Esther’ but also true for several of my stories, is that my readers need to work to reach their own conclusions. I quoted the back of the book: ‘A psychological exploration of a troubled mind, or a story of demonic possession in a haunted house – ‘Esther Bligh’ is as ambiguous as the character herself.’ And this ambiguity is deliberate. I hope the conclusion is satisfying in its way, but I also want to leave the reader still thinking about the story, still wondering about Esther and Grace. ‘Who or What is Esther Bligh?’ ‘How much is happening inside Grace’s head?’ (that ‘troubled mind’). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Some of the feedback I’ve already received (including the reviews I’ve had on Amazon – thank you for those!) suggest I’ve succeeded in this. There’s been a lot of debate – and that’s good, that’s great. And I hope there’ll be a lot more in the future, as ‘Esther’ spreads herself around.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-11521965006376391322018-06-24T16:31:00.000+01:002018-06-24T16:31:39.918+01:00Phew...!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I’m just about back down to earth, after the launch of Esther Bligh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Launches come in all shapes and sizes – a platform for promotion (and sales), a literary event, where the author can showcase their work. Or it can be a celebration.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that’s what I decided I wanted – a celebration of my debut publication, a book with only one writer’s name on the cover – mine. Yes, I’ve won some competitions in the past, and my work has featured in a number of anthologies and journals. But this is the first time it’s just me. And it’s a great feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A celebration requires family and friends, and I was thrilled that so many turned up for the occasion from far and wide, in spite of the rain. Being a writer, as all writers know, can be a tough business. Rejection is a fact of life, and sometimes it can be very hard to deal with. But a strong network of support (which may, or may not, be connected with the writing-process) provides a cushion for all those blows. Thank you, all, for being there – at the launch, and always.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was also fortunate to have the perfect venue in Seaways Bookshop, Fishguard. We are very lucky to have this shop in Fishguard – well, I think you would be lucky anywhere. It has a great choice of books, and kind, knowledgeable owners (Barbara and Bridget), who really went that extra mile to make it a great day. Thank you, both.</div>
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It was particularly appropriate as the launch was held during Independent Booksellers’ Week, so here are Bridget and Barbara dressed as Bookshop superheroes!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m dressed in black, because Esther wore black, and it’s a dark story.</div>
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The book is, however, a dual-narrative, alternating between Esther and Grace. So here I’ve put on a hat to read Grace’s words, saying ‘a red hat, topped with a peacock’s multi-coloured feathers sat proudly on her head.’</div>
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Quoting from the back cover, I told my audience that the book may be the psychological exploration of a troubled mind (i.e. Grace’s), or a tale of demonic possession in a haunted house. And I posed the question ‘Is this, quite simply, a ghost story?’</div>
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Looking at this last photo, where a ghostly image of Esther is peering in through the window at us all, perhaps the answer to that is ‘yes’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And here’s to the next launch!</div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-28889612077084475682018-06-07T14:55:00.000+01:002018-06-07T14:55:07.391+01:00The long awaited day!<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rbX-0nX2724FW1w8coNGG42YxyUmSSc31zAT8p7YFpCfQnB0MFD0fsQiBBBgjOvCdlWZtYq9dvrKdxP7t6RbinB6u2ICo0BFai20aKFU_EkWRTL3V5_z7JLc8yLGpy4_9VWEJ9tmg9-x/s1600/Esther+Bligh+Cover+%2528original%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="823" data-original-width="520" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rbX-0nX2724FW1w8coNGG42YxyUmSSc31zAT8p7YFpCfQnB0MFD0fsQiBBBgjOvCdlWZtYq9dvrKdxP7t6RbinB6u2ICo0BFai20aKFU_EkWRTL3V5_z7JLc8yLGpy4_9VWEJ9tmg9-x/s640/Esther+Bligh+Cover+%2528original%2529.jpg" width="403" /></a></div>
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‘Exspectata dies aderat…’ Virgil, The Aeneid, Book 5.</div>
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Or, for those of you who don’t understand Latin, ‘The Long Awaited Day Has Come.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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No, this isn’t Phaethon’s horses carrying Aurora up into the sky. It’s something far more exciting – to me, at least.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Esther Bligh’, my debut novella, published by Holland House Books, is out today!<o:p></o:p></div>
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And, yes, it is exciting, even though I’m at home, in front of the computer, typing this, ‘liking’ Facebook posts etc. (My launch is in ten days time – which will be another excitement!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s great to see all the support from family and friends (thank you, all), and Amazon has only got one copy left. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. But the book is available from plenty of other places, both online and in actual bookshops. I’ve already seen it in my local shop, Seaways, where I’m having my launch, which is a great feeling. Having been a librarian in my time, I also look forward to seeing it in the library, where I’m intending to do a reading. And there are a few other events planned, so it’s a busy time, but I’m really thrilled by it all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Long awaited, maybe, but definitely worth it!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thank you, Robert Peett at Holland House!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-26735076556041981212018-04-11T15:13:00.001+01:002018-04-11T15:13:55.742+01:00Cinnamon Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO701Y9IvnSNZ4XXtMjZXqBOZ61p5yMtgjK7uhJLEQe7UbxJZvecucg-hC-yw40vPziz-7k5tn2s4rFl35vGsKYRhyphenhyphenNCkRIC5nrlNk7AMXqz_yKeWK2xenOVl3lzGSJxJ3uValrbNaepOR/s1600/DSCN0571-exp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1536" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO701Y9IvnSNZ4XXtMjZXqBOZ61p5yMtgjK7uhJLEQe7UbxJZvecucg-hC-yw40vPziz-7k5tn2s4rFl35vGsKYRhyphenhyphenNCkRIC5nrlNk7AMXqz_yKeWK2xenOVl3lzGSJxJ3uValrbNaepOR/s400/DSCN0571-exp.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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My story "Eavesdropping" is featured in this Short Fiction Review from Cinnamon Press, along with some great writers.<br />
<br />Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-88206478056043131992018-04-07T11:28:00.000+01:002018-04-07T11:28:08.992+01:00Esther Bligh - two months and counting...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlk6FvxDe_FCb4cZxws0Z2VpBp3aBtEjBMCWLQt40i7BZ7awhmf8UIZ5_qVa73PoCKbbINHYoIszyL34NNXaMSJN6XY5qmy4NPCR0aMl-x2zqy5pwBlyOqHbbhVMmuDltKmSsOttK2ziTK/s1600/DSC_0385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1513" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlk6FvxDe_FCb4cZxws0Z2VpBp3aBtEjBMCWLQt40i7BZ7awhmf8UIZ5_qVa73PoCKbbINHYoIszyL34NNXaMSJN6XY5qmy4NPCR0aMl-x2zqy5pwBlyOqHbbhVMmuDltKmSsOttK2ziTK/s400/DSC_0385.jpg" width="377" /></a></div>
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Only two months until the publication date of my novella, so I thought a photo of me alongside "Esther" would be appropriate.<br />
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Getting very excited!<br />
<br />Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-22703901765559921172018-03-18T15:15:00.001+00:002018-03-18T15:15:44.007+00:00Esther Bligh - preview<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Below is a
‘taster’ (teaser?) of my novella, ‘Esther Bligh’ – part of a piece I wrote
recently for Fishguard Arts Society magazine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m launching
the book in Seaways Bookshop, Fishguard, on June 17<sup>th</sup>, (all
welcome!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Although I was
born and brought up in Llanelli (see earlier blog), Fishguard is now my nearest
town. We are very lucky to have a well-stocked, independent bookshop, with
knowledgeable, friendly staff. And it’s next door-but-one to Pepper’s/West
Wales Arts Centre, where my writing group meets, so it seemed the right place
to launch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of course, I
have to hope that it will be a sunny, warm June afternoon, to bring people out,
whereas dark, cold, and lots of rain are much more appropriate for ‘Esther’…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">WHO, OR WHAT, IS ESTHER BLIGH?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is dark again. I
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">‘Night-bird’,
he called her. ‘Esther, my little nightingale.’</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Outside is wiped away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Outside, with its treacherous sunlight,
its mocking colour, the insinuating rumour of the sea; outside, where the
crones gather in the square, whispering behind their claws, and the gargoyle children
grimace and gibber.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">What do they know? What <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> they know? Nothing. They have no
proof. There <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>no proof. Is there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is the
opening of my novella ‘Esther Bligh’, due to be published by Holland House
Books, on the 7</span><sup style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> of June, this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">But what has
Esther done, to make her so afraid of the inhabitants of the Welsh village she
finds herself in, in a dark house caught between the mountains and the sea?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And what of
Grace, the woman who comes to live in the same house, more than twenty years
later? When anonymous letters addressed to Esther arrive, why can’t Grace
simply ignore them? Why is she so tormented by their words?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">As the back
cover of the book tells us: ‘A psychological exploration of a troubled mind, or
a story of demonic possession in a haunted house – ‘Esther Bligh’ is as ambiguous
as the character herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-46923215509312458122018-03-17T11:57:00.000+00:002018-03-17T11:57:27.064+00:00Spoken Word, Llanelli, March 10th, 2018.<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB1r-M0uTlUOUozKVrtdShPFDs1Hu1_NeC5KwvUkbixu48lb0XViIJxxxIAfcAzvBmW6DfnJgh4qOiW_v1UkzdObyKo-MQeiruMRAxOh_Cyq3BzevRCxe0Qs5VerpeTiIDXqi9pCAgtFi/s1600/Spoken+Word%252C+Ffwrnes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrB1r-M0uTlUOUozKVrtdShPFDs1Hu1_NeC5KwvUkbixu48lb0XViIJxxxIAfcAzvBmW6DfnJgh4qOiW_v1UkzdObyKo-MQeiruMRAxOh_Cyq3BzevRCxe0Qs5VerpeTiIDXqi9pCAgtFi/s400/Spoken+Word%252C+Ffwrnes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">… waiting for my
floor-spot at Ffrwnes Spoken Word, last week. I read my ‘Transformation’ story,
which is due to be published later this month, in The Dawntreader magazine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ffrwnes is a
great venue, with excellent acoustics – no need for a microphone (well, not for
me, anyway). The audience was welcoming and engaged, and included some old
friends, as Llanelli is where I used to lived (just up the road, in fact, along
with the school I went to, my grandmother’s house, my grandfather’s surgery.) A
lot of memories – and rather nice to go back in my new guise of ‘writer’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-73611029672058693262018-01-14T12:14:00.001+00:002018-01-14T12:14:46.871+00:00Looking forward, thinking back<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Once again, a
Happy New Year to you all (scary – it seems just the other day I was writing
that for 2017!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The New Year’s
resolution for 2018 is – no more resolutions… at least not those concerned with
blogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can’t believe I haven’t
posted here since July, although, again, I am pleased that the main reason is
because I’ve been working hard on my fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGuueh7G6dnInKZsqlJB33_DfT6R5FGL-NKOEQAPQABZF7yMN2WlCCeJliwlqQvyqQfPdrnlDplIKe5XXpfJf6TwjU3ez2yTVgIvdUAsk5vi7_kzHqDZ-uPn8-7tjQh4uKkSfki65TbOs/s1600/DSC_0235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1107" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGuueh7G6dnInKZsqlJB33_DfT6R5FGL-NKOEQAPQABZF7yMN2WlCCeJliwlqQvyqQfPdrnlDplIKe5XXpfJf6TwjU3ez2yTVgIvdUAsk5vi7_kzHqDZ-uPn8-7tjQh4uKkSfki65TbOs/s400/DSC_0235.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is a
‘snapshot’ of where I have placed my work this year, and there was also an
online piece in Tales from the Forest (talesfromtheforest.net), together with
some online Flash fiction in Spelk (spelkfiction.com) – something I was very
pleased about as it was my first attempt at the shorter form. It’s a site that
gives good author coverage, which is always welcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Saving the best
for last – I’m so thrilled that my novella ‘Esther Bligh’ is being published by
Holland House Books later this year. It’s a literary press, based in Newbury,
and the editor, Robert Peett, has been very patient with this newcomer to the
world of editing, proof-reading, etc.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have, in fact, just finished reading through the proofs, which has
finally made it seem real. It’s surprising how having an ISBN number can make
some people so excited! Publication date is the 7</span><sup style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> June, and
blogging more about the process is something I certainly intend to do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJAJ-jrBR1pcuDCxVmSCQfBotLuz2Hu_Val-rHLeBBD9vxU9HDDIk_p5veG38KNbvPEripwf0TyYamJ6SHo80hbDSGs8vZyWPVx5VdrcRi0eL6HH0n2jvK8WSeqjLM2JFFTN3EQn1iwdct/s1600/DSC_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1206" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJAJ-jrBR1pcuDCxVmSCQfBotLuz2Hu_Val-rHLeBBD9vxU9HDDIk_p5veG38KNbvPEripwf0TyYamJ6SHo80hbDSGs8vZyWPVx5VdrcRi0eL6HH0n2jvK8WSeqjLM2JFFTN3EQn1iwdct/s400/DSC_0239.jpg" width="301" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve also become
rather interested in the novella form – whatever that might be. I attended a
workshop recently taken by Cynan Jones, who said it wasn’t simply to do with
word-count. Still thinking about that, whilst having started on my second
(maybe).</span></div>
Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-85702675753518377472017-07-07T17:11:00.005+01:002017-07-07T17:11:58.044+01:00Interview with "Irish Imbas"<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well, I didn’t
keep to my resolution of a blog every month, but I haven’t let it bother me…
unlike the girl in my story (see my two previous posts). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, it’s been for the usual good
reason – I’ve been too busy with other writing projects (more of which in a
future blog, maybe later this month, so I’ll be squeezing two into July…
perhaps!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">For this one, I
thought I’d reprint an interview I did for the Irish Imbas Books newsletter (</span><a href="http://www.irishimbasbooks.com/"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">www.irishimbasbooks.com</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">). I mentioned previously I had been
short-listed for their 2017 Celtic Mythology short story competition, and I was
thrilled to get second place. So my story ‘The Black Hen’ was printed in their
anthology (the only Welsh theme to be included):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBMn3-bjh3EzXfVEoFD46Xf2cI60dkIVSyVo2bUFMUR6ZHyWU_COlEOr6b992Q1SxviWkL2qixqK_PPxcU6-wmmpfZNGVThTjExOeBMcPovrgOmjt0F5x4iBjOVOYVkabyVH5OhotcHpd/s1600/Book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1152" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBMn3-bjh3EzXfVEoFD46Xf2cI60dkIVSyVo2bUFMUR6ZHyWU_COlEOr6b992Q1SxviWkL2qixqK_PPxcU6-wmmpfZNGVThTjExOeBMcPovrgOmjt0F5x4iBjOVOYVkabyVH5OhotcHpd/s400/Book+cover.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of dp-multimedia © 2017</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">And I was asked
by their publisher/editor, Brian O’Sullivan, to answer a few questions about it
and Welsh/Celtic mythology in general.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">1) Tell us a
little bit about yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I am lucky
enough to live in one of the most beautiful parts of west Wales, close to the
sea in Pembrokeshire. I am even more privileged to be able to spend my time
walking on the coast-path, or working in my woodland garden. And yet, most
days, you will find me staring at my computer, with a blank wall behind,
pressing a key now and then – all of which is another way of describing the
creative activity known as ‘writing’. And even though there are many hours when
very few of those keys get pressed, writing is not so much ‘what I do’, as who
I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">2) What brought
you to ‘The Black Hen’?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have always
been interested in the connection between myth and landscape. The Black
Mountains, in mid Wales (another beautiful area, where we used to live) are a perfect
example of this interaction. Here, you will find Llangorse Lake, with its lost
realm under the waters; or, further into the mountains, Pwll-y-Wrach, the
Witch’s Pool. The road south is where the Sin-eater haunts unwary travellers;
the stream flowing past our house ran red – was it the sandstone from the hills
above, or something more sinister?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is the
stuff of folk-lore, the experiences that feature in the lives of ‘ordinary’
people, rather than the grand battles and tragic romances of the Welsh Princes
and their followers, as depicted in the Mabinogion. The tales that spring from
them are passed down through the generations by the wise old man sitting by the
farmhouse hearth, or the story-tellers, as they travel around the countryside. This
is the kind of mythology I was drawn to write about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I had the idea
of a commune of women artists, who lived somewhere in the middle of the
mountains. While they worked, each would tell a story, interweaving their
particular art/craft with an element of folklore. They would be the new Keepers
of Hand-me-down Tales. The setting of the mountains would be a constant
throughout the whole, but there would be other linking features – characters
such as the Old Women in the Square and Dyn Hysbys (the wise man); certain
motifs. Each story would be concerned with an unhappy event from their
childhoods, which, looking back on, they interpreted through myth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘The Black Hen’ is told by Rainbow, who
makes patchwork, and looks after the chickens. When she was young, her baby
brother disappeared, causing her mother to have episodes of mental illness,
during which she believed her daughter to be the cause of her loss and grief.
Rainbow sees this now as a changeling tale. Such stories are not, of course, exclusive
to the Black Mountains, nor even to any of the Celtic nations. And, in fact, my
story mixes elements from versions throughout Wales. The egg-shell feast for
the reapers is from further north and west, and the remedy of killing a black
hen from further south. But the story seemed to lend itself perfectly to our
area, and many features in the tale are portrayed exactly as they were when we
lived there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was, indeed,
an old railway carriage, beneath an embankment, abandoned by Dr Beeching’s
‘reshaping’ of Britain’s rail system. Hay-on-Wye was the other side of the
hills, with its self-styled King – a place where April Ashley, the first
‘celebrity’ transsexual, was welcomed. The fair did regularly visit the town
car-park, and the small supermarket, with the gathering of gossiping women
outside, most certainly did exist!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And this was
something else I was trying to achieve – not simply to relate the old folk-tale
of the changeling, the ‘crimbil’, but to interpret the contemporary in ‘mythical’
form as well, to show that such re-imagining is a never-ending process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">‘The Black Hen’
is my favourite of the Tales, which is why I am so pleased to see it in print,
in the Celtic Mythology collection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">3) What are your
views on Irish/Celtic mythology? Do you have any observations or sense on the
status of mythology in the world at the moment?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Generally
speaking, it seems to me that mythology in all its forms is thriving. From
Disney’s latest fairy-tales, to TV crime dramas involving shamans, indigenous
beliefs and rituals, it is more prevalent than it has ever been – and this is
in an age of consumerism, capitalism and ‘new’ technology. But perhaps that’s where
the reason lies. The monsters and cataclysmic events are still here, but in
different forms, requiring more than ever some kind of explanation. So we find
ourselves yearning for the metaphors of myth, which are somehow easier to
understand – the big, bad wolf, rather than the psychopath killer, for
instance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">With regard to
Wales, we are, this year, celebrating being the Land of Myths and Legends, and
have our own website to prove it (</span><a href="http://www.landoflegends.wales/"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">www.landoflegends.wales</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">). Various events are taking place
throughout the country – workshops, readings, tours linked to the stories and
characters that ‘made’ Wales. This would seem to be an excellent indication of
the sustained appeal of myth here, but I do worry that there is too much of a
connection with tourism and commercialism, rather than simply the desire to
educate people in this field. For example, when you click on the area of the
map which includes the Black Mountains, there is no mention of Llangorse Lake
or Pwll-y-Wrach, two of the most famous local legends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fortunately,
story-telling is gaining in popularity throughout Wales, and myth, including folk-tales
is always an ideal subject for this form of ‘spreading-the-word’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– including not only stories from Wales
itself, but others from across the globe. And the re-working of the Mabinogion by
eminent authors remains a favourite, though, sadly, few of the Welsh publishing
houses seem interested in the ‘lesser’ tales.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">With regard to
Ireland, I recently spotted a post in Paul McVeigh’s writing blog, which
declared that Irish folklore was very much alive and weird! This led me to a
piece in the Irish Times about an artist named Michael Fortune, who is
following in the tradition of the great Irish folklore gatherers. He has
videoed hundreds of hours of people narrating the stories of their communities,
where encounters with fairies and the like are regarded as quite normal. So it
seems to me that the ‘handing-me-down’ of such tales, is in safe hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And, of course,
Ireland is lucky enough to have Irish Imbas, and the Celtic Mythology
collection, which (almost) single-handedly, keeps on producing and publishing
stories in this field, to the benefit of all its devotees. Thank you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">4) What is the
next project we can expect from you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve just
finished a novella, based in Wales, which could be seen as a ghost story, or a
psychological mystery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m working
on putting a collection of stories together – a quite different type of story from
my ‘folk tales.’ And there’s a novel I’ve started researching, but haven’t got
to first draft yet. I’d love to do a coastal version of the Keepers… who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">The next
competition opens at the start of September – well worth entering, for those who
write folk tales, myths etc. This year’s anthology is available in print form
from Amazon, or to download on Kindle etc.</span></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-34676096223283564212017-02-26T10:45:00.000+00:002017-02-26T10:45:03.990+00:00"Q"<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">A short, quick
piece, squeezed in before February 28</span><sup style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">th</sup><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">, so that I keep to my New
Year’s resolution to put something up here every month…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0XiiEZpcquAoMVgioM5ZgMmT80sElvGYczMo1nzzaqwAaw21PlHQAUbD3_laCA4X-QktZIizBB7lmblXa2I1j1mEo5wnn3TRuu6xQObKWurxzGKzeV24ZJlIzvgsP5cJT3ND95JiqpPf/s1600/DP+-+Cellar+Bards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF0XiiEZpcquAoMVgioM5ZgMmT80sElvGYczMo1nzzaqwAaw21PlHQAUbD3_laCA4X-QktZIizBB7lmblXa2I1j1mEo5wnn3TRuu6xQObKWurxzGKzeV24ZJlIzvgsP5cJT3ND95JiqpPf/s320/DP+-+Cellar+Bards.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading at the Cellar Bards (photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Here I am, in
the Cellar Bards, Cardigan, reading from the story mentioned in my last blog –
the runner-up in last year’s Cinnamon Press competition. As I said then, the
story is entitled (W + D-d) x TQ/M x Na, the formula worked out to explain the most
depressing day of the year.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">In it,
Q stands for the time since failing our New Year’s resolutions, so there’s a
certain irony in my just managing to get this posted with two days to spare.
Otherwise, that would be another resolution fallen by the wayside, along with
the chocolate and the exercise…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m hoping to go
back to the Bards, when the anthology is released, which should be in May. And I’ll
be able to read the rest of the story from the actual printed book, then –
always a great feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Writing-wise, a
couple of goals for 2017 have already been achieved, which is very satisfying.
One of my stories is published in the new edition of ‘The Lonely Crowd’, and
another is to be featured in the next ‘Crannog’ magazine, one of Ireland’s top
literary journals. And I’ve been short-listed for the Irish Imbas Celtic
Mythology Competition.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">More on all
that next month… hopefully.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></div>
Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-63184480551545320112017-01-08T13:28:00.000+00:002017-01-08T13:30:38.983+00:00Starting 2017<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">A happy and healthy 2017, to any of you kind enough to be reading this!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">January can be a
time of hopes and plans… all those resolutions we sign up to on New Year’s
Eve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for some, it can also be
rather bleak and depressing, especially when they feel they have failed in
those good intentions after only a matter of weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Soon, it will be
Black Monday, the most depressing day of the year – at least according to some
analysts, who have actually worked out a mathematical formula for the date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the theme of my story, ‘(W + D
– d) TQ/M x Na’ which was a runner-up in the 2016 Cinnamon short story prize,
and will appear in an anthology published in the Spring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">As a result of
this success, I was asked to apply for mentorship by the Press, and shortly
before Christmas, I was thrilled to be told that the proposal for my short
story collection had been accepted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMqfuTxsdp-rsY2uob1gKsgw7TDkU3Yq_XGRhCWxL32U_PE9DosL2UZMoh4gXmaAtu8z-_XZW-rU8CGuL-2VbVX4AiN5_e1Vv8ge4hlOpTs7LJXmOfOYtpSBy4wS3MoR97RzUA4OThrHK/s1600/Cinnamon+Logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMqfuTxsdp-rsY2uob1gKsgw7TDkU3Yq_XGRhCWxL32U_PE9DosL2UZMoh4gXmaAtu8z-_XZW-rU8CGuL-2VbVX4AiN5_e1Vv8ge4hlOpTs7LJXmOfOYtpSBy4wS3MoR97RzUA4OThrHK/s400/Cinnamon+Logo.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Cinnamon is a
small, independent publisher based in North Wales. Its aim is find distinctive
voices amongst Welsh writers, whilst also providing a centre of excellence for
literature from the UK and the world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">I am really
looking forward to going through the mentoring process during 2017 – a plan I
intend to embrace fully, and work hard towards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Sadly, I have
already given up on giving up chocolate, and exercising more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I have posted this blog, which is a
tick in the box – at least for the first month of the year…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-52805462832364860942016-11-02T09:06:00.000+00:002017-01-08T13:31:32.457+00:00Submissions<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Autumn.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">The end of the year is approaching. The
days are shortening, the leaves are falling, the birds are stocking up for the
winter. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">I haven’t progressed very
far with my nature diary – no further than the extract below, in fact… just as
I haven’t posted any new blogs. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">But
I like to think it’s for a good reason.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">
</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">I’ve been concentrating on my fiction writing, and have written a new
short story every month, as well as starting a new novel.</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';">I’ve also been submitting regularly to
a variety of journals, and have succeeded in being published in five –
something I’m more than happy with.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9SEikXzU2BQdGqRKS5KweY8KJRfJdrUXgHkwj8sLU3KUyS6DcTAR69-fd8n-AxhV2ld8OkbUhEDS0Tlr5XSLN-QiCNnqA-fcO7hmmrJdtpfhzKOm5qS9C0RcaM2rDonhnvndF_HQbopI/s1600/Lit+Books.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9SEikXzU2BQdGqRKS5KweY8KJRfJdrUXgHkwj8sLU3KUyS6DcTAR69-fd8n-AxhV2ld8OkbUhEDS0Tlr5XSLN-QiCNnqA-fcO7hmmrJdtpfhzKOm5qS9C0RcaM2rDonhnvndF_HQbopI/s400/Lit+Books.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">In between all
these, I was a runner-up in the Cinnamon short story prize;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>long-listed for the Sean O’Faolain;
short-listed in the Over the Edge New Writer, and for the PENfro first chapter
competition. And one of my ‘folktales’ is Seren Press’s Story of the Month
right now (see their website!). So, all in all, it’s been a rewarding writing
year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">For my
publication in ‘The Lonely Crowd’ I was asked by the editor, John Lavin, to
provide ‘Author’s notes’, outlining how I had come to write the story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those notes began and ended as follows:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">‘I was supposed
to be writing about a shooting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
man and a woman, alone in a room; a gun. The gun is fired. … (But) for some
reason, I couldn’t find my way into the tale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept on changing my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t find my ‘voice’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, I put the story back into my ‘resting’ drawer,
dissatisfied with it and myself….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">… Writing this
piece has reminded me of my original story idea, and I’ve been looking at it
again. There are a lot of notes, and two different outlines… or three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of it is as bad as I thought, but
I’m seeing quite a different angle now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Something I like the idea of, making me think there’s definite potential
for another story. Which shows, I like to think, as I’ve said elsewhere, that
nothing you write is ever wasted.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Well, I wrote
that other story, and it’s the one published in ‘The Next Review’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– something I’m particularly pleased
about, because it proves that there might be some truth in what I’ve always,
rather uncertainly, believed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3505659106558102336.post-23766626290195937122016-01-31T12:03:00.000+00:002016-02-08T12:12:47.165+00:00Writing from the Centre<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt 252.0pt 288.0pt 324.0pt 360.0pt 396.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And more rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That much was true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fingers of moisture, clawing their insidious way
through the crevices of the turrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tear-drops splashing from leaf to leaf, leaden enough
to reach the floor from even the top of the sequoias.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spider-webs, turned into be-jewelled filigree, woven
amongst the hedges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Damp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everywhere, in everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Day after day, after day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One week into the next. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt 252.0pt 288.0pt 324.0pt 360.0pt 396.0pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is the opening paragraph of my story
‘Meeting Mr. Dickens’, which is reproduced in full in an earlier post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Change a few words – turrets to
chimneys, sequoias to sycamores – and it could be a description of the last few
months at our home in Pembrokeshire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not just our home, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It has been the same for the whole of the county.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eglwyswrw to the east narrowly missed
claiming the record for rain on the longest number of consecutive days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The south has had flooding, and winter
storms have battered the west.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Not the best time to make a New Year’s
resolution to start keeping an occasional nature diary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first thought was ‘to write my square
mile’ – a favourite writing-course subject.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I wasn’t doing a writing-course, so I could change the
rules if I wanted, couldn’t I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could make it three miles, to take in Abercastle, our closest coastal
point. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or I could ‘write my OS
map’ – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one side of it, at least.
In every other place we have lived, our village has been on the edge of the
map, meaning we have always had to buy two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, it’s different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We live near Mathry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re
virtually in the centre of OS Explorer North Pembrokeshire, West Sheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True, a lot of the map above us is
sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, still, it’s a great area
to live in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes in St David’s
and the surrounding peninsula to the west, a chunk of St Brides Bay below us; and
that rugged northern coastline with its numerous small coves - my favourite
part of all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sometimes… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s what I’ve decided to focus on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, then again, if I want to include
some of my ‘other’ favourites that are off the page, well, perhaps I will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLVodon3n6G4U8F8BIh36jMj0VpW_MAFTWjqATI63_5CMG4m7Q4YKdG8jnqIG346CIFrspWKRzmgzLKy1mhdRbIYWPQe7aUq-fjMhz4CCs4eFd8IuR8T3KTHYlFJc9zhcHM7p03mfo2Yv/s1600/Abercastle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Abercastle, Pembroekshire, Coast" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLVodon3n6G4U8F8BIh36jMj0VpW_MAFTWjqATI63_5CMG4m7Q4YKdG8jnqIG346CIFrspWKRzmgzLKy1mhdRbIYWPQe7aUq-fjMhz4CCs4eFd8IuR8T3KTHYlFJc9zhcHM7p03mfo2Yv/s320/Abercastle.jpg" title="Abercastle, Pembroekshire, Coast" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abercastle (photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Closer in, our house is at the edge of a
small wood, with fields behind. And a short walk up the road takes me to a view
of the Preselis, our mini-mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like the wider context, I consider this to be an ideal location – we’re
not just restricted to the coast, breath-taking as that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our landscape includes so much
variety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like the county
itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>January isn’t the best month to start noting natural
observations, even in ‘normal’ winters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s a month of hibernation, with everything dormant, the ground
ungiving, the cold stalling life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or that’s how it should be. But this year, except for one or two
haphazard days, all we have had is that rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And a
strangely mild temperature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nothing is as it should be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The roses haven’t stopped blooming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My neighbour’s daffodils have been and gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grass is still growing. And because
of the rain, it’s been hard to get out – and to see what’s around you when you
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">But we’re lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wood gives us wildlife on our doorstep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of the food we provide, birds
are a constant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost every day,
they tumble about the feeding-stations, in confusing profusion – like a scene
from a Walt Disney fairy-tale movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When David Attenborough made his series ‘Life of Birds’, he remarked
that birds provided man’s closest encounter with wildlife. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is certainly true for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pembrokeshire is, of course, a great
place for all kinds of bird-watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It has some spectacular sea-birds, easily visible from land, like the
puffins on Skomer, or the guillemots on Stack Rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then there are the estuary and river species – the herons,
geese and ducks, interspersed with rare visitors, such as the spoonbill at
Newport a few years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or the
glossy ibis at Marloes mere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here,
we’ve got the more usual garden varieties, but they are still a joy to see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">5<sup>th</sup> January. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too many chaffinches to count. Great
tits, blue tits, coal tits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rooks,
jackdaws, robins, sparrows, wrens, woodpeckers, goldfinches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The goldfinches with their fragile
luminosity are a particular joy to see in these dull, depressing days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are a bird that features
repeatedly in religious art, representing, amongst other things, the soul,
redemption, protection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More
recently, Donna Tartt, in her novel ‘The Goldfinch’, used Carel Fabritius’s painting
of the bird as her representation for beauty, and the main character’s
connection with his dead mother. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another
‘pure’ motif, perfectly encapsulated in that tiny, perfectly formed, gold and
red plumage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lCCgIpwZFaoDp1QshJUIpdRB8dU_K0lN6g-8ai1e9FrZ0z_xUDyorlmVGe5CMX124g1AqDSUEWaPUfCFIuccPv-XeZVo7dHOepyMfmuYcjmSWhUNGqNyMfigi9m3CqCHJ8lM8nXL-49r/s1600/Goldfinch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Goldfinch" border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lCCgIpwZFaoDp1QshJUIpdRB8dU_K0lN6g-8ai1e9FrZ0z_xUDyorlmVGe5CMX124g1AqDSUEWaPUfCFIuccPv-XeZVo7dHOepyMfmuYcjmSWhUNGqNyMfigi9m3CqCHJ8lM8nXL-49r/s320/Goldfinch.jpg" title="Goldfinch" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldfinch (photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet when you observe the behaviour of these
finches, they are far removed from that noble image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the feeders, they hold their own amongst the bigger
birds, squabbling amongst themselves, and fighting for their place, quite
viciously, sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are tenacious,
greedy birds, seldom choosing to wait in line, for their turn, always going for
the ‘best’ food, seldom put off by the wind and rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, ‘feeding and breeding’ is what it’s all about for
most creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Survival is the
key word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the goldfinches are
determined to succeed – their numbers have increased considerably in recent
years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZq8Rr2RoQHcCpx5xCwRJ5Gf0-IMrO-1vbV6U44V99MY8wcAvT89qvV6LYxeud9GUgxRtoTrXo4PDOg6EG4-I2tv3-6TutRWUaw0SBurXSipZY8QyL_p2gBSL6gYyExnX_IFRGUHSeEMI/s1600/Nuthatch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Nuthatch" border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZq8Rr2RoQHcCpx5xCwRJ5Gf0-IMrO-1vbV6U44V99MY8wcAvT89qvV6LYxeud9GUgxRtoTrXo4PDOg6EG4-I2tv3-6TutRWUaw0SBurXSipZY8QyL_p2gBSL6gYyExnX_IFRGUHSeEMI/s320/Nuthatch.jpg" title="Nuthatch" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nuthatch (photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also have a few less common additions to the regulars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pair of nuthatches has joined us this
year – another striking bird, that darts in and darts out, to hide his food in
the top of the sycamore, and a multitude of other places. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been great to see the
greenfinches back – four, at least – after an absence of a couple of seasons. The
opposite of their ‘gold’ cousins, they have struggled lately, on account of the
trichomonosis virus. And yesterday I was watching a thrush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sad, really, to regard what was such a
common British bird as a rare sighting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Some we don’t always see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their calls reach up to us from the
wood, but they stay hidden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
cough of the pheasant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The screech
of the shy jay – ‘yscrech y coed’ in Welsh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ke-wick of the tawny owl, moving through the trees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">10<sup>th</sup> January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woken in the early hours by the
owl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the gentle twitwitwhoo,
so often associated with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Gwdihw’ – the Welsh word came to me, remembered from reading to the
boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such a lovely word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, there are a lot of myths
associated with the owl in Wales, as in many other countries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best known is from the Mabinogion –
Blodeuwedd (flower-face) being turned into an owl, never to show her face in
daylight, and to be mobbed by all the other birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We haven’t seen the owl recently, but I have seen it in the
past – being harassed by blackbirds, as it happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I probably shouldn’t be glad that I saw it, on account
of all the ill-omens attached to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I always feel privileged by any contact with nature, and though I
love the folk-lore that comes from the countryside, I tend to dismiss those tales
that speak of dark foreboding. Right now, I’m particularly hoping the rhyme
about early bird-song isn’t true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Os can yr adar cyn Chwefror, hwy griant cyn Mai.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">‘If birds sing before February, they will
cry before May.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">In other words, it’s a sign of hard
weather to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Particularly if
the bird is a blackbird or a thrush… which I was lucky enough to hear singing
yesterday…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">20<sup>th</sup> January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A wonderful starry sky when I got
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are lucky enough to be without
street lights, here, which can allow us to have some really good views of the
stars and the planets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The rooks were ten minutes ahead of
schedule today – another sign of a clear early morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve been on the move at a quarter
to eight for the past few weeks – rising from the wood, circling, then heading
west, on the look out for food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This was a proper winter’s day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bright blue, cloudless sky. Frost, even
on the lower garden. Definitely a day for a walk up the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ice in the puddles – I couldn’t help
staring at it, it seemed so long since I had seen any. The frost on the banks
looked strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realised it was
because the grass was long – it has kept growing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The white streaks seemed to have been brushed on to each
blade, rather than covering the whole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As if a giant’s hairdresser had sprayed it delicately with some ‘Silver
Moon’ hair-colour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fine day
brought the tractors out in force.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A reminder that Pembrokeshire is still very much a farming county, no
matter how much tourism seems to take it over, during the season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more surprising, perhaps, is how
the landscape has been formed by industry – and not just the modern gas and oil
of the Haven Waterway to the south…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">21<sup>st</sup> January, 2016.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m standing by the Blue Lagoon, at
Abereiddi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m not looking at
the deep, silent pool, as everyone else is doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I’m staring the other way, at the rock-wall facing
the sea, facing the weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
winter storms have stolen away a layer of scree. What I see is a muddle of
shapes and colours, like a crazy patchwork quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jagged greens, greys, copper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Streaks of white, stitched through them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve been here many times before, but
I’ve never seen this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen
plenty of other changes, worked by both man and weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years ago, when we first visited, there
was no safe, sturdy bridge to walk on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We had to edge across, our backs to the cliff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we were almost always alone, when we reached the lagoon,
except for the seals, and, if the timing was right, their pups, latched onto
the steep sides like fluffy barnacles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now the pool has become a favourite
destination for adventure tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The shrieks of coasteering children echo off the high walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strange bubbles break the surface,
making you wonder what fearful monster lurks beneath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s just a diver, exploring this twenty-five metre
deep, near-perfect circle of water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">All so different from the quiet, secret
place of my childhood, that scene of natural wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except it wasn’t natural at all. The lagoon is a relic of
the slate industry, which thrived in Pembrokeshire in the late eighteenth
century. It was formed when the channel connecting the quarry to the sea was
blasted, allowing the sea to flood in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My coloured wall is part of that quarry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to go a lot further back for
this small bay to be no more than a site of farming and fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even further for it to be a remote
cove, with nothing but the sea-birds and the seals circling around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8NgwW0NA33n2MszpJUZD3P7T6fHtHQHQPP2aLKlVEHo3zG4yZ_FwqJybpDyKfklFm5vnGLK_k9OZMbEfYzYPtm-Py6JXPN9ms1ZXfhtV3Ti3XcBFHg1nZiSU_rXZwc6yqnAr3fOApdKQ/s1600/Abereiddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Abereiddi, Abereiddy, Pembrokeshire, Coast" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8NgwW0NA33n2MszpJUZD3P7T6fHtHQHQPP2aLKlVEHo3zG4yZ_FwqJybpDyKfklFm5vnGLK_k9OZMbEfYzYPtm-Py6JXPN9ms1ZXfhtV3Ti3XcBFHg1nZiSU_rXZwc6yqnAr3fOApdKQ/s320/Abereiddy.jpg" title="Abereiddi, Abereiddy, Pembrokeshire, Coast" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abereiddi (photo courtesy of dp-multimedia ©)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">23<sup>rd</sup> January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another beach walk, snatched in another
few dry hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>South, this time,
to Newgale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 11.35pt; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Somewhere else I’ve been many times,
walking along its beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, just
as at Abereiddi, there’s something new to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There always is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Changes with the time of year, the time of day, the tide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather, again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The storms of 2014 revealed the remains
of an ancient forest, ten thousand years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hunter-gatherers would have foraged for roots and berries
where we now walked along the sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The trees have appeared again, this year, but that’s not what’s caught
my eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahead of us, there’s a
patch of pale, dry sand that the wind is catching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t why it should be just in one place, but it is. We
walk into it, and the golden grains are blowing like waves just above the
surface, rippling ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
flickering wraiths, dancing round our ankles, trying to trip us up, but leading
us on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then it ends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is what I love – the infinite wonder
of this place, the surprises it throws up, casually, almost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if it is saying ‘Look! And look
again!’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps everyone feels the
same about their own particular landscape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I like to think it’s something special about
Pembrokeshire, where I live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Diana Powell Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06287343431885890916noreply@blogger.com0