Yule Review

midwinter reflections on 2023

Dear pivoting reader,

The winter solstice is almost upon us — it will take place here in Galway at 3:27 am on Friday, December 22, 2023. We’ll get around 7 hours and 30 minutes of sunshine (weather permitting), so it’s an easy day’s work for the sun and a great deal of darkness for us. I don’t mind so much as there are cheery lights everywhere. I can take or leave a great deal of Christmas traditions, but decorating towns and houses with gorgeous festive lights is one I love.¹

The difficulty is when they get switched off in early January and we must forge through weeks and weeks of dull evenings without twinkling inspiration. One of the best things about the difficult winter of 2021 was the decision to leave the holiday lights up for an extra couple of months. I heartily approved!

The harbour at the nearby village of Kinvara, during an icy spell in December 2022.

My trip to Dublin last week to see The Outcasts was a joy. Not only was the film a surprising revelation, but the conversation afterwards was great fun too. I also took a dash around the city the next day and ended up buying a great deal of books. They were the heavy-duty, big hardback reference volumes I find difficult to pass up when they are about the subject I’m researching. It was tough on my arms and shoulders, however!

I kept seeing titles that I had to buy — including a weighty coffee table tome on surrealism and magical art (a particular interest of mine) which was the first thing I clocked when I walked into the Dublin Art Book Fair in Temple Bar. I’m lucky I escaped with one book. Because it was such a (pretty) burden I feigned blindness to the other beauties on display. And there were a lot of temptations. Luckily I got a ‘free’ tote because of the splurge, which I needed to manage the rest of my wanderings through my old stomping grounds.

I even bought a couple of new journals… yes, I’m an old-school handwriting journaler. Over the decades I’ve been consistent and irregular when it comes to keeping journals, but in the last year I’ve been smashing records for the number of journals I’m using.

I also have specific volumes for different projects — it makes it easier to keep track. I do a lot of hand-writing, doodling and free association in the early stages of most stories and when I get stuck in narrative tangles. For me, the hand-writing stage is the matches and kindling for a creative spark. Once I have it at a steady glow I transfer it to digital where I can begin the hard labour of bellows cranking to build a proper roaring fire.

Like most writers I know, I have many stand-by journals, some of which have been stacked up in the wings for years, eager for their moment in the spotlight, but over time you gravitate to particular types.

My current favourites, thanks to Flame Tree Journals

The above are the textured journals I currently love, produced by Flame Tree Publishing.² The green one on the right (based on the Acanthus wallpaper by William Morris) is almost full, so I have the yellow one based on Sunflowers by Van Gogh or the slate one (another Morris design) waiting for me. That’s my Lamy ballpoint pen, one of two I own. While I love rollerball gel ink pens, they bleed too much through most paper, and a while back it started to annoy me. I have a big planner I use every year to organise my schedule, but its only downside is that ink seeps through its pages easily. This is not a problem with a ballpoint pen… although I’m picky about pens, and a generic biro is not going to suit my needs. I like the finest point possible and it must be black ink.³ I don’t mind a bit of an investment when I use the instrument so often.

I’ve also realised over time that in order to properly digest and learn a subject I need to take hand-written notes. Sometimes that’s from a book directly, or if there’s an audio book or podcast I want to remember, I’ve learned to write it down. I retain the information better. When I’m preparing for an interview or a panel discussion, I make notes on paper in advance. If I’m simply copying and pasting information from digital sources into a text file it is dumped out of my brain as soon as I hit ctrl-v.

There’s research that backs up this approach, since hand-writing is a complex skill that activates several parts of the brain. You have to be more selective and hone in on the relevant parts of what you want to recall. In a sense you are already editing when you write notes by hand. This doesn’t apply to everyone of course, and typing has advantages over hand-writing when the person’s scrawl is barely legible. Plus, it may not useful if you have dyslexia. I’ve my own brain weirdness when it comes to spelling, as I’ve mentioned before, so I am sympathetic to this issue. There’s no spell check available when I’m hand-writing so my poor spelling is obvious. Yet, hand-writing tends to slow down my brain, and allow me more time to reconsider the word. It’s not a waste to encourage children to stick with learning to write well. It’s an easy skill to ignore nowadays, but I think it has a lot of subtle benefits. As with anything, practice can result in improvement. Just in the past year I’ve been hand-writing and drawing a lot more, and it gets better as you persist with it.

On the solstice I’ll gather all my notebooks and planner together and I’ll conduct an overview of how 2023 worked out for me on the writing-front. Of course, the biggest change will have been this newsletter.

My first official Substack newsletter went out on the 31st of January, and this is my 101st post! I went from writing fortnightly, to weekly, including a daily post in June as a challenge, and eventually added a cartoon on Fridays.

I have a number of paid subscribers now, and I appreciate every one of you. I’m on track to hit 300 free subscribers by the end of the year, which is a significant increase for someone who started with a small (but dedicated) 73 subscribers after six years of erratic updates.

My most popular newsletter this year was my tribute to libraries.

Libraries

The comments, likes and opens on the newsletter didn’t properly reflect the interest in the piece. So many people told me in person or contacted me privately to let me know how many good memories it evoked for them. If you enjoy one of my pieces consider liking or commenting on it. I love to engage with my readers directly, and I respond to everyone.

Another newsletter that provoke a lively conversation was the one about Concept Albums:

Extra Extra - Concepts

It’s not surprising it stirred up discussion as we have a profound connection to music. It gets us through the highs and the lows, and when we love an album it becomes a part of our development as a human.

I was grateful that my newsletter titled Let Go, was in the top five newsletters of this year also. It’s a personal piece about the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, and how we need to drop the old story in order to let in new narratives and growth. This can be surprisingly difficult! Our brains like the familiar and the safe, and will often direct us away from anything we consider risky or unknown.

Let go

It might seem like a mild newsletter to you but I stressed about posting Let Go. One of the things I’ve been striving for this year was to push myself to be creatively braver. Like a muscle, it gets better with practice, but it doesn’t mean it gets easier. You decide to flex it despite the gibbering brain monkeys that are screeching about negative impacts. My cartoon B.A.D., has been a surprise side-project, and I appreciate it’s not to everyone’s taste, but I love making it.

Interestingly, the vast majority of people who read this newsletter do so via their email inbox, and don’t engage with the web-site or the (excellent) Substack app. I respect that this is the preferred method, and it reminds me to focus on the writing, and not to obsess over metrics.

This evening’s first quarter moon

This evening I walked in the early twilight in the woods — it was only about 4.20pm — and I looked up at the first quarter moon shining through the skeletal branches. The trees are deep in their hibernation, snoozing through our wet and chilly winter. At this point, when the gales aren’t raging, the yuletide woods are fixed with a serene stillness. You can access that profound connection to the present when you stand upon the earth covering their interconnected roots and lay a hand upon their rough bark.

What’s amazing to consider is that in six months I won’t be able to see the quarter moon through their leafy crowns.

One of the other things that’s benefited me greatly this year has been the simple decision to view the world as a place of beauty and magic. It doesn’t stop pain, suffering or loss, but it helps with recovery and hope. It allows you to be amazed and rejuvenated, even in times of crisis.

This is the season of dark pause for memory and dreams. Sink into it.

Wishing you a peaceful holiday season, however you celebrate it!

1. I have a string of little LED star lights around the monitors in my office, and I turn it on throughout the year when I’m writing. They’re my narrative footlights: once on, the show must begin!

2. I should point out that Flame Tree Publishing has also published me — I wrote the introduction to their anthology, Irish Ghost Stories.

3. I’m with Captain Holt from Brooklyn Nine-Nine on this: ‘Black ink only. No blue.
I'm not a street artist.’ RIP, Andre Braugher.