Look around, look around, look around!
I always get this song stuck in my head when June comes busting in; a heady bloom of plans realised, raucous birdsong, and eating in the garden. I learnt it for a production of Carousel put on by the local am-dram society when I was young, and it’s been galloping about in my brain every year since. Because it’s June! June June June…
It does capture a certain kind of feeling this time of year though. Everything is happening at once, and we’re all buoyant with bank holidays and warm air. May arrived at last and with great enthusiasm this year, bringing with it some strikingly balmy evenings and glorious blue-skied mornings. Now already wild garlic is wilting over, and the sky is still glowing in the west when I draw the curtains at bedtime.
I’ve been away from home for much of the past month, in my homeland of south Wales. First it was the tail end of the Seaglass book tour, then it was podcast recording, and being around to help prepare for my big sister’s wedding. I’m sending out this month’s letter from a Pembrokeshire buzzing with bees, lawnmowers and fat flies. It’s the last day of a joyful, dizzying week away from emails and Instagram posts, and I’m squinting at my sun-dimmed laptop screen, trying to coax myself back towards reality.
June is looking full of possibility, though. It’s bulging with it.
The headline news for this letter is that I am, officially, a published author now. my debut essay collection was launched on 9th May, amid a surreal and wonderful week of bookshop events and radio interviews. I wrote about the experience, and the watershed moment of pubishing a book with so much of myself in its pages, in this months’ essay for paid subscribers of Dwell. You can read a flavour of it here. I’m still getting my head around it all now, really.
Now the most important bit: other people reading my book! Do let me know if you’ve grabbed a copy, and if you enjoyed it. Any good bookshop will be able to stock or order it - or buy online from all the usual places! For those of you across the pond, the North American publication date is 5th August.
Alongside signing copies of Seaglass (yes, really!) and talking about the essays to some very lovely audiences (thank you, everyone who came along to an event). I’ve also been sharing some bits and pieces around the collection online. Including, for those curious:
A piece, springing from my essay ‘Pearly Queen’, about finding fun - and tap dancing - for The Scotsman.
A conversation and reading from the book on BBC Radio Wales.
And a piece for Nation.Cymru about ‘being a writer in Wales’, in which I made all sorts of confessions about what that means to me. Today, they published an extract from the opening essay of my book, which you can read here, and which will be followed soon by a review of the collection.
My final engagement for the month was a nature writing ‘walk-shop’ at none other than Hay Festival. Having attended before to support other writers, it was the most brilliant thing to be going back as a festival author in my own right. Aside from a wonderful, muddy ramble to the river with our notebooks, one of the highlights of the day had to be when I was spotted in the book tent and asked to scrawl in a hefty stack of Seaglass copies - to be added to the ‘signed editions’ table. Wow.
It was also a true pleasure, as always, to see so much joy of reading in one place. How reassuring it is to see something like this thrive on - despite everything. Da iawn to those who make it happen.
Coming up in June, I’ve got a big ole’ funding bid to write - which I’ll only be telling you about, of course, if the news in August is good news… (crossing fingers and toes till then).
I’m also now desperate to get stuck into some new essay ideas that have been bubbling up under all this talk of Seaglass. I’m happier than I ever thought I would be with this debut collection of moments and reflections (what I relief that feels!). But, like any author, all I can think about now is how I’ll make the next one better. I’ve learnt so much over the last few years of writing and editing, and I can’t wait to channel all of that straight into some new work.
I’ll also be continuing to quiz some fascinating podcast guests about their favourite places, and potentially going out and about on some important bookshop related business… (Best keep an eye on socials for more on this, I reckon).
If you’re in York on Friday evening, I’m running a free nature writing workshop in Rowntree Park, as part of our local Make Space for Girls campaign - teens, mums, and women of all ages are welcome to join! Book your place here to be on the safe side.
And if you happen to be in Durham on the 18th, I’m interviewing the brilliant food writer Clare Finney about her new book Hungry Heart. Can’t wait.
Lately I’ve been reading… Actually very little. Honestly, my usual book at bedtime session seems to have gone out of the window. I think, with lots of travelling, tiring days, late night conversations and social media checking... I’ve fallen off the reading wagon a bit.
I’m also in a terrible rut of not finishing books. I hate it. I never used to do this - but there is a growing stack of half-enjoyed, half-abandoned books on my bedside table and I can’t seem to break the cycle. Does anyone else go through phases like this? It’s partly a symptom, I think, of being surrounded by so many other books I so desperately want to read - I end up losing patience with my snails-pace page-turning and peeking into the next one too soon.
Perhaps some accountability would help me climb back onto the literary horse in June. There are some cracking new books out now, including Ronan Hession’s latest offering, lovely Jessica Moor’s new novel, and Glen James Brown’s long awaited second book. I’ll dive into those - along with the second-halves of some of my bedside stack - and report back in the next two newsletters. That’s a promise.
I will mention, however, the newly-launched Abandon all Hope by Gary Raymond (and not just because Gary said such nice things about Seaglass the other week). Also published by Calon Books, this unconventional amble through Wales’ literary history is a great read for anyone who, like me, is suddenly realising that they are woefully under-informed about the written landscape of this country.
I’ve been particularly enjoying some quality time with the sea this month. Moments snatched while I’m near the coast - including a magnificently still evening at The Swimming Place. For anyone who’s already dipped into Seaglass, you may know the spot I mean. After a long day working in the garden with my dad, we ate crisps on the rocks, sipped Fanta Fruit Twist, and watched the lazy water slip away from us down the narrow beach below.
Unable to resist, I fetched my field recorder from the car and captured some lovely sloshing sounds - included here, for your enjoyment (headphones on, if you’ve got some to hand!):
I’ve also enjoyed some full-throttle, heels-off, wine-glass-down wedding dancing (the best kind of boogying) as well as some quiet writing sessions on the swing-seat in my parents’ garden - strategically out of reach of the wifi.
Oh, and quite a bit of tasty street food. With all the to-ing and fro-ing, I ate out a lot this month. But mindful of my bank account - and the warmer weather - much of this eating was done in pop-up collectives like Spark in York and Goodsheds in Barry - not to mention the Hay Festivals’ teeming food tent. So lots of messy, naughty, wonderful hand-held dinners, including coconut-sprinkled masala fries, and everything we love about Greece (i.e. souvlaki and tsatsiki) wrapped up in the softest pitta blanket.
Finally, I have to mention Nye. Sold out at the Millenium Centre in Cardiff and fronted by none other than our patron saint of Wales Michael Sheen, this new National Theatre production tells the story of Nye Bevan; Tredegar-born son of a miner and founder of the National Health Service. We all have a relationship with the NHS - be it relatives who work for it, loved ones who have been cared for by it, or our own experience of needing it. Long story short, this play is art at its most powerful: striking deep on an issue that touches us all. I’m not one for tears, but I left the theatre struggling to control my emotions, and more certain than ever that writing and creativity are as essential for society as any other tool for change. Please do watch it if you can - I think there are some NT Live cinema showings coming up in June.
So there we have it. Clustered as my diary was in May with *major life events*, not all of it was plain sailing and easy rides. A couple of things rocked the boat while I was away from our home in York; changes out of our control that we could only weather our best way through – and we did.
June will be spent grounding ourselves back into our little terraced routine, ready for the next wave of exciting diary entries this summer. For now, I’m going to soak up all the Pembrokeshire-pollenated air I possibly can on this last day, and tonight head down to the beach in the dark to watch for shooting stars and satellites. Cool sand and deep space. Just what I need, I think.
Paid subscribers - I’ll be back in your inbox in a few weeks’ time with this month’s essay and audio read-out. Meantime, have a wonderful June, everyone. I hope these longest days ahead are full of all your favourite things, and the short nights lit with lots of stars.
More soon,
Kathryn x