Writer, Filmmaker, Mother, Grandmother
It was the Equinox. Spring had returned from its confident march beyond the winter horizon, slipping back into its familiar cove. Crisp white snowdrops pressed against the blue expanse, the colours of the saltire blossoming under shards of light that swept triumphantly from a glittering, enthusiastic sun. As sunlight gave way to a pinky dusk… Continue reading Aye Write! The Books That Made Nicola Sturgeon.
It's St Patrick's Day, an event celebrated all over the world in memory of the Patron Saint of Ireland (who incidentally was born in Scotland so there's a very valid excuse to celebrate across the water too!). Whilst celebration, friendship, kinship and a few glasses of Guinness are on the menu for a lot of people… Continue reading A beautiful Irish poem for St Patrick’s Day
Grief is a monster. A parasite as heavy as sin that clings brutally to the emptiness that loss exhumes. It steals your breath, shocking your body at every turn, luring your soul into the slow tide of darkness. A bleak and endless eruption of eerie silence it rises methodically to the surface, piercing any hint of… Continue reading Grief is an emotional amputation.
Hidden in the urban setting, behind the houses across the narrow street from my city home, there's a mud-stained lane that serves as a tiny reminder of my rural life. Along with my dog and cats, I hobble there in the mornings, my joints like steel, my footsteps like fire, my imposter of a body carrying me into… Continue reading If you listen carefully enough you can hear the pain of pro-creation.
This week I had the pleasure of attending a wonderful session at Glasgow Women's Library Story Café. Fellow Thunderpoint author Helen MacKinven was speaking about her fantastic novel Talk of the Toun. Actually, she wasn't just talking about the novel, she spoke passionately about her journey as a writer; her route to publication, and her determination to stay true… Continue reading Staying true to voice, however that may sound.
I'm at my island home. There's a storm outside. The wind is strong and vocal, its intensity tossing the sea into a sky kneeling so low it is swallowing salty water hungrily; head back, gaping throat open, the effervescent foam gushing down its impossibly long neck. The peat is burning, its heavy hue hitching an easy ride on the fertile surf that… Continue reading Today the world lost a friend and the island mourns.
I had an interesting chat recently about point of view and how writers use different voices in their writing. The Birds That Never Flew regularly switches between first and third person narrative voices. I used this approach because it feels natural to me and the way I write. I enjoy the intensity of the first person narrative; the intimacy of the voice,… Continue reading Finding your voice in fiction. Writing the POV that’s true to you.
It has been a long time since I've made it home to Mullindress, my wee house up the hill on Rathlin Island. Nothing has changed and yet everything has changed. The light has altered, and continues to do so daily. The sun rises and falls from a new perspective; this morning barely climbing beyond the horizon,… Continue reading A winter tale.
It's Hogmanay! Or for those of you reading this outside of Scotland it's New Year's Eve. Traditionally, in oor wee bonnie country, the last day of the year is spent preparing to say goodbye to the year past by welcoming in the next with a variety of cultural nuances that have regional variances but fundamentally deliver on the same… Continue reading Hogmanay & Handselling. Only in Scotland.
This week, I read an article in the Herald which quoted Scottish publisher Adrian Searle (of Freight) as saying that "Scottish fiction can be really boring". Like many others my first reaction was to be a wee bit miffed at the headline. The quote apparently attacks the fiction that I, and many other excellent Scottish authors, passionately support. A few… Continue reading Scottish fiction isn’t boring, it’s bold and beautiful.
Margot McCuaig 