January – looking backwards to go forwards.

Happy New Year! She chimes in with the rest of the bloggers, as if not shamefully aware that it’s almost February, and her attempts to blog last year fizzled out a measly 5 months into the year. It was May the last time I wrote a blog post, which means approximately 8 months have passed, but my, what an 8 months it’s been. I am excited to start writing again properly, but before divulging my plans to re-ignite this blog, here’s a variety of happenings from the last 8 months.

Shortly after the last blog I wrote, I took the plunge and had laser eye surgery. That, combined with getting a car within a few short weeks, meant that my adventures last year gave me a sense of freedom like I’d never experienced. All of the pictures below were taken with more excitement than I’d felt in many years – I still marvel at being able to see, really see, 8 months later.

Here’s me about an hour after surgery, less than impressed because it was the hottest day of the year so far, and I was stuck in a dark room for 24 hours. I couldn’t actually see the camera at this point as my eyes were streaming like the Niagara Falls behind the lenses. Between copious amounts of eye-drops I kept having to flick the goggles up to let the water out. But hey, I’m living the HD life now!

Me, after laser surgery.

Me, pouting because I couldn’t go out in the sun after getting my eyes zapped.

After my eyes had recovered (48 hours later – seriously, I was back to work and fresh as a daisy on Monday morning. Amazing what you can do in a weekend!), I decided this would be a summer of exploration (and lots of mazes, apparently), so here’s a selection of my adventures.

Mazes were a big theme last year – I got lost in several, made from corn, woodland, and walls, but the Death Star was definitely the most annoying to navigate.

 

 

As much as I could write pages and pages on my adventures last year, I’m determined to focus on this month and set myself a more realistic writing goal this year. Last year I fell behind due to what was essentially a re-shuffle of my life, where I had to adjust to a totally new pattern which threw me out of writing entirely. This year I am settled; the great shift has calmed and I am ready for new challenges, so here they are:

  • This year I pledge to myself to write a monthly blog, and not pressurise myself to post every week or bi-weekly as I did last year. That just proved stressful, so I’m taking a step back and seeing how this new, more relaxed plan works.
  • I will climb the Yorkshire Three Peaks: Ingleborough (723m), Pen-y-Ghent (694m), and Whernside (736m). These are comparatively small mountains to the big three peaks I climbed in 2016 (Scafell Pike, Snowdon, and Ben Nevis), but living in Yorkshire where they are essentially on my doorstep, it seems almost a crime that I have only climbed one of these three, so I have promised myself to complete these this year.
  • I will finish reading a book. A few years ago this would have been a ridiculous target for me, as I was reading multiple books a month. After graduating and beginning full-time work however, my reading (like my writing) has taken a major dive. Aside from the expected guilt I felt every time I glanced at my ever-growing reading list accumulating dust week after week, I was mostly just sad that I was ‘losing’ the part of myself that has got me where I am today. New books don’t seem to cut it at the moment, so I’ve gone back to basics and am re-reading some books from my childhood which played a giant part in forging my current love of fantasy and steampunk. Those books are The Mortal Engines Quartet (yes, I know they’re developing films of this series, and yes, I’m hoping and praying they don’t destroy them).

Aside from these three main goals, I took a look at my resolutions from last year, written in the post My Resolve, and discovered that I have in fact completed my challenges from 2017. It was a hell of a year – I might as well call it The Great Re-Shuffle – but through it all I managed to hit each target, a great accomplishment for me.

I was brave – I got used to driving again, a huge obstacle for me as I experienced masses of anxiety at the prospect of even getting a car. Now I drive to work every day, and my anxiety has greatly reduced. Funnily enough it was just after my last blog post in May that I got my car/Poppy, so it’s becoming more obvious why my writing took a backseat (pun intended).

explored – I took several mini road trips with my sister to force myself to overcome my driving anxiety, and those turned out to be some of the best days of the whole year. Highlights of those particular drives included driving around my first horse and rider, taking a wrong turn which resulted in stopping for a herd of sheep as they swarmed around the car (no, I didn’t end up in a field, the sheep were just being herded by farmers), and driving through the ‘Yorkshire tropics’, as I like to call them – where every weather occurs within about ten minutes.

I explored further than England as well, taking a spontaneous trip to Dublin to visit my cousins, and flew to Venice with my family for an incredible week living on the floating city.

I was happy – throughout all of the above, and because of some of those things, I had one of the happiest years of my life. It was a massive re-shuffle, but I took it in my stride and am determined to make even bigger and better things happen this year.

Here’s to 2018!

This is my dog, Jet, in the car ready for his next adventure!

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Neighbours 

We are with you Manchester
We will stand together
We are the unit of the north
Proud and strong forever

You are the neighbour, the brother
The sister, the mother
The lovers, the fighters, the survivors
And your pain is felt worldwide

But through all the fear
We will always be here
The neighbour to lean on
The one by your side

The shock is still raw
But your unity leaves us in awe
And we stand by you, Manchester
As we go about our lives

Your spirit keeps the north one being
Through all the trauma and sadness seen
We are with you, Manchester
Sharing the tears in your eyes

Manchester and Leeds
We will stand together
Beacons of the north
Proud and strong forever

What’s in a Name?

During my time at university, I took a creative writing module which explored a variety of writing styles and techniques, and encouraged us to think more abstractly about our own style. To put this into practice we were set a task, which required us to pair our names with the five main senses and create a ‘description’ of our name.

Although the task was only to describe our own name, I couldn’t resist doing the same for another. Alexis. It was a name given to a character in a novel I began, a name I have always loved, and also the name with which I was almost christened. Sometimes I think I would have preferred to be called Alex, or Alexandra, or Alexis, as the name feels significantly stronger than Sarah. Is that weird to think? Can names be strong, or are they simply what we make them? I feel Sarah is soft, not weak, but not powerful either. Sarah is safe, comfortable, secure, but Alex shouts adventure, courage, strength! I have always loved the etymology of names, and spend hours choosing names for my characters in stories. But this was something new, unexpected, and fresh to muse over, so here are my descriptions, which make my feelings of these two names abundantly clear.

Sarah

My name is the colour of ripe peaches. It smells like fresh country air and feels soft but solid, like a well-plumped cushion. My name tastes sweet, like melting toffee and sounds like water flowing gently down a stream.

Alexis

If my name was Alexis, it would be deep purple with streaks of yellow; strong like the indigo night flashing with light just before the storm breaks. It would smell like deep forests, where the light rarely penetrates. It would feel solid, with no hint of weakness, despite its rounded corners. It tastes like red grapes, solid but sweet once bitten, with a slight tang at the end. It sounds like a firework, first a whispering hiss followed by a great explosion of uniqueness.

So there you have it – fairly obvious which is the ‘stronger’ name. The fact is though, I like both of them, even though I far more fit the description of my actual name. I envy Alexis, I really do, but I also think some softness is required, particularly with the harsh traumas being inflicted on the world at the moment. So I will be content with Sarah, whilst taking my adventuring one step at a time as always. Sarah is good, Sarah is solid, but there’s another thing to remember too.

The middle name, so often secret, hidden away like a constant embarrassment. I’m not embarrassed of my middle name, rather, I think of it as a secret strength to use when times are tough. Una. That’s my name, Sarah Una, which brings yet another element to the softness of Sarah. Una brings strength, but a more magical, fantastical power, I think. Una brings majesty and brightness; a different type of adventure than Alexis, but adventure none the less. Una lifts Sarah, and Sarah keeps Una grounded, together creating a fusion of fantastic soundness.

So what does make up the fabric of a name? I guess only us as individuals will know, as they do become so closely intertwined with our personality. Regardless of that, it’s interesting to think about. Maybe in a few years Sarah won’t mean sanctuary any more, maybe Una will take the helm and steer her across new realms of strength and weakness and open up a whole world of experience. Maybe, or maybe not. Either way, Sarah Una is solid; Sarah Una is an entity in herself, and Sarah Una is determined to explore, achieve and drive herself to write her own outstanding, sparkling story.

Snippet #2: Blank page

I’m staring at this blank page, thinking, hoping, willing something to appear. What do I write? Where do I begin? I have so many thoughts, so many ideas, and yet they refuse to materialise on the page. I could do so much. I could write a masterpiece! This is how every single author started out, so how did they begin?

After several minutes of scrutinising the resolute blank canvas in front of me, I come to this conclusion; in the battle of paper versus mind, paper wins every time.

After several more minutes I realise this; it is not about a battle. Writing is about closing your eyes and letting the words flow through your fingers onto the paper. If they are ready to be released, they will be. Simple as.

So, a paragraph into nothing, where do I start…?

My words are not quite ready, it seems.

 

 

Here’s a link to the idea behind my ‘snippets’: Snippets

This Blog is Still Finding Itself.

I began this blog with the intention of creating a space for me to record my memories of places travelled, as well as finding the fantastical and magical aspects of seemingly normal, everyday places. The first few blogposts followed that ‘rule’, but since then my writing has taken off in many adverse directions.

I have opened up so much more than I ever imagined I would, just in these first two months. About my writing, myself; things very close to my heart that I barely discuss with my friends, let alone strangers. I guess I loved the idea of having an anonymous presence, where people would only judge the posts as they came and then disappeared into the endless vortex of other blogs. It was to be a completely effervescent lifestyle, where I could live in a single, temporary moment before moving on to something else. That much has remained the same, I still get a wonderful, spontaneous kick of adrenaline writing each post. It’s exciting for a day or so when I see the responses, but then it fades until I begin the next blog, and so on. Apart from that, the rest of the blog seems to have taken on a life of its own – my life – but in a format that only shows the deepest, most heartfelt thoughts, moments, and memories of mine.

I am okay with this, I think, but I will endeavour to continue writing about my travels far and wide too, discovering the magic and majesty wherever I go, and recording those moments in my blog. It may not be implicit where I see the magical elements during my travels but, rest assured, if they have made it to The Fairytale Traveller, there will definitely be some fantastical existence intertwined within the words, no matter how obvious or obscure. I can only hope that you, my fellow writers and readers, will be patient with me, until my words begin to form something greater than themselves, than myself; until the stories flow without restriction, the words dance about the page, and The Fairytale Traveller begins to breathe a life of its own.

Thanks to you all

Poetry in Disguise

I am not a poet. I write stories – short, long, fragmented – simple pieces of stand alone text. I would even go so far as to say I almost dislike poetry. Almost, but not quite. There is a part of me that wishes to understand poetry with the same fervor and complex appreciation as other writers. I have tried, yet the meaning still alludes me. There are some poems I do enjoy, those that possess a simple layer of meaning before giving themselves up to the riddles of their creators. I have no particular genre preference, rather, I occasionally  happen across a poem and think ‘I get that. I can regard that to a level worthy of the subject matter in question.’

I studied literature at university for four years and, after several valiant attempts to understand a cacophony of poets from Byron and Wordsworth to Eliot and Tennyson, my relationship with poetry has settled into a mutual acknowledgement that the other exists only to be observed and credited from a distance. Of course, what naturally follows from the inability to read poetry, comes the frustrating difficulty to write this rhythmic literature. If I can’t read/understand poetry, I sure as hell can’t write it, can I? Very very rarely have I written a poem, other than ones required during my academic studies. I have to come to the conclusion that I just don’t write it, and couldn’t if I tried. However, over the past weeks (basically since beginning this blog) it has come to my attention that this fact may not be as accurate as imagined.

If you have read any of my other recent pieces, it might appear obvious that there is poetry lurking not so inconspicuously within the realms of The Fairytale Traveller. Only last week I wrote a piece called ‘I Found Him’, which is most definitely a poem, but bizarrely I didn’t realise until the piece was up on WordPress. I had written it as one short block in a word document, thinking it a simple stand alone piece, not really meant for a full story or anything else. It baffles me now, having added more of these short blocks of text from my computer to WordPress, that only once uploaded in a new format have I recognised that these pieces are in fact poetry! Ultimate facepalm. WordPress has given these pieces a new lease of life, taking them from dusty files in the depths of my computer memory and throwing them out to the world in an entirely new style. When writing these pieces, it simply had not occurred to me that I could or should write them in a different style to blocks of text. I genuinely have no idea why… I amaze myself sometimes.

It seems poetry is not as out of my depth as I thought. I think I will still enjoy stories more, but it heartening to know that I could write a poem if I had the inclination. Or perhaps the only times I will write poetry is when I don’t realise I am? Either way, I am glad about one thing, which is that those little, random blocks of text were never simply abandoned or downright bad stories. Instead they were pieces of poetry, waiting like tiny, priceless gems to be discovered and freed by someone who actually knew what they were looking for. It appears I must learn to open my eyes more, to see what actually lies on the paper in front of me!