It is 2019 and it is January and I thought by now that death would stop being my muse but she is still carving a diamond scythe into my words until the blood falls in the shape of a fairytale and what I’m saying is I am learning to talk to death in ways that are not destructive and I cannot wait to share all those ways with you. I am writing stories. My newest project is death and I am finding beautiful ways to explore her – a changing of shape, a loss, or something to be given. my newest project is death the way ‘in the absence of moonlight’ was death, and here is a line to tide you over:

She spreads herself out into the sky, the dimensions of her unfathomable. She is twenty-five. She is long acquainted with the trauma of existence. 

I am also perilously close to being ready to submit my poetry manuscript to publishers which is eternally frightening and soul-exposing. There is some rearranging left to do before I can look at it and say, that’s it, darling, that’s all there is, but we’re close. We’re heart-stoppingly close.

Since I last updated, the write young things instagram have uploaded a snippet of me reading a poem from the book at the event I mentioned last time, which, though I kind of hate how I look and how obviously nervous I was as I spoke, I want to link you all to, in case you are curious.

Also, my latest manuscript title: All The Words I’ve Found For Hunger

I’m endlessly pleased to finally be bringing Tarot Poems back today. As I mention in my note there, I want to truly take time on them, to make something beautiful or at least worth sharing. the poems will endure, indeed. I also plan on setting up an archive of all the previous issues here on the website when I get a bit of time, so if you haven’t signed up to the mailing list, you can read what you’ve missed out on thus far.

This is a post to signal to the future, and I can’t wait to see you all there.

Love,

Lucy