Writing. Awards. Blogs.

Yesterday I found out that the cover for The Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb is shortlisted for The Ravenheart Award. Amazing. When I find out more I will put links to all the other covers and a link for voting.

Today I find that this blog is shortlisted for the Author Blog Awards. It is strange how that has tied my fingers in knots. Took me years to think of myself as an 'author'. Someone asked me the other day if I 'managed' to make a living from painting alone. I replied that, no, I also write books, and a blog or two. This didn't help their confusion, and neither did it sit well in my mind. 

I have a headful of stories. I write books, and the odd fragment of poetry, and lists, lots of lists. And I try and write just a few things every evening in a moleskine diary, to close the day. Above is a fragment from part of a new story. I wrote it on a beach that was soaked in early spring, early morning sunshine, while waves rolled ashore. I paint in my studio, write on the hill or on a beach, usually. 

Below, a random opening of the diary page.

1. I have not yet found any blue sea glass. Clear, green, amber, but as yet no blue.

2. A head full of dormice in teacups, hares running through panels of paper, the wolf gondolier and his midnight cloak of stars, lion dancing with unicorn, patchwork quilt made by convict girls, thimbles and patterns and Christmas cards all tumble together in my head and doing no painting as friends are staying.

But today we walked through woods greened emerald by fresh leaves beside a tumbling river that echoed my thought. Wood anenomes danced in light wind. Ruined house patterned by shadows.

3. More painting, more writing, more listening, less talking.

4. And it is always good to contemplate the finite.

So, if you feel like wandering through the world of blogs then have a look at the shortlisted ones, and vote if you feel so inclined. I will be voting for Fiona, although this is my favorite of her blogs. I love the economy of A Small Stone as well as the idea behind it. 

Inside, outside and fine china cups.

Last night the moon rose late into a clear darkness-pinned-to-the-sky-with-stars cloth of dreams. It was pale lemon, beautiful. Now the world has darkened and outside the lambs are running for cover as sleet falls in a fast wind.

And that is the weather report today from Treleddyd Fawr.

Inside there will be dormice in teacups.

Yesterday the accountant gave me a gold star. Might be premature, but I treasure it to my heart anyway. 

And my flowers are still beautiful, well cared for and every time I see them it makes me pause and smile, inside and outside.

Today I have contacted one of the descendants of Grace Stevens, whose young hand helped to stitch the Rajah Quilt so many years ago, I have drawn dormice and found a new theme of dormice sleeping in teacups to occupy my time and I have received my catalogue from teh V&A. The book fell open at the page that shows the Rajah Quilt, just as I was beginning to wonder whether it would be possible to make the story into a picture book. There can sometimes be something quite haunting about being taken over by a story. I think this one wishes to be written.

All the work above is destined for the Alice in Wonderland Exhibition at The Imagine Gallery. Would love to be able to go as John has gathered together such incredible things, including work by Graham Piggott. I have a polar bear of his and I think this was the first thing of Graham's that John saw when he came to collect work from me.