#British writers

[ibrithir-was-here]

How the heck is there not more talk about Tanith Lee??

Like my gosh, the woman wrote, according to her wiki, 90 books, over 300 short stories, two World Fantasy Awards, and was the first woman to win the British Fantasy Award/Augus Derleth Award and wrote for tv shows.

Like, it's not like she just wrote a heck ton but wasn't very good! She was clearly very good she won awards, and i've read a swath of her stuff across different genres and really enjoyed most of it. I mean that even if not each one has been my cup of tea I can at least appreciate the skill and quite a lot I have truly enjoyed. She's got great prose and style and imagination. Not everything obviously was a banger, but they've all been at least well written, which is harder to come by in writing than you might think.

But nobody ever seems to talk about her?? And I feel like the fantasy crowd on here would really enjoy her stuff. The woman has done stuff in pretty much every genre from what I can see, but I never see her listed on fantasy authors like Clive Barker or Diana Wynne Jones or Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett or Diane Duane even though she was writing at the same time and has a similar sort of '80s Doing Cool Stuff with Fantasy vibe' I feel like people who like those authors would enjoy though she's very much her own style of author.

Anyway this was really just me putting out a rant that such a prolific and talented author seems to have fallen by the wayside and I think it's really a shame

Heck she even did a witch-queen fighting againt vampire Snow White a whole decade before Neil Gaiman did his phenomenal Snow Glass Apples and it's also excellent, give a look here:

[diana-andraste]

Still Life (In An Airshaft), Joel-Peter Witkin, 1967

"He cut off his nose to be revenged of his face."

A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose, 1788

[gurumog]

Brutal Moon - a science fiction novel in which you are the hero.

Published today.

I love Adventure Gamebooks. I love the cover. The blurb makes it all sound terribly British too! I’m gonna order a copy. Paperback, of course, because old-school.

timeandfate.com

[papa-osmubal-artworks]

Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle- a British writer and physician. (art: papercutting)

[cjdevlin]

Day 1 of planning my cosy summer romance! 🩵🩴

So... it's been a while, hi! I hit some bad writer's block and then had lots of exams and essays to focus on at university, and ended up not having either the motivation or the time to write for quite a while.

So, I'm back with a cosy summer romance book (more details to come soon) that's fresh, exciting, and tells a story about childhood friendships being reunited and a character returning to a place that feels like home, based on my absolute favourite place in the world where I always used to go on holiday as a child 🩵

I'm really excited to be back on this account and writing again!

~ Caitlin 🏖️

[shakespearenews]

Logistically, the publication process was “difficult and laborious,” involving “a lot of negotiation—and quite a lot of financial investment,” says Michael Dobson, director of the Shakespeare Institute at the University of Birmingham in England. The friends ran into myriad legal, financial and procedural issues. They secured one play, Troilus and Cressida, so late in the process that it isn’t even listed in the table of contents.

To increase efficiency, mistakes were fixed as the books were printed. “If they caught an error, they would correct it in the middle of the run—and to save money, they wouldn’t throw away the sheets that were not correct,” says Michael Witmore, director of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C. “So every First Folio is a random collection of corrected and uncorrected pages.”

...

If you examine enough Folios, you’ll find copies with cigar burns, wine stains and even paw prints from a cat. Owners have calculated household finances in their text’s margins, and children have practiced their ABCs. One of Rasmussen’s favorites is a copy that was pierced by a bullet. “It stops at Titus Andronicus,” he says, “which is clearly an impenetrable play.”

...

His favorite, however, is the copy held by his university. “It’s got some misprints in the letters by which you identify which collection of folded pages gets sewn to which,” he explains. The binder followed these instructions, neglecting to check whether the pages ran in consecutive order. As a result, about a third of As You Like It is missing. In its place, other parts of the play are repeated.

“It’s like As You Like It rewritten by [Samuel] Beckett,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to try and persuade a company to perform the version exactly as it’s printed in that copy and see if anybody notices.”

[quaintrelledragicorn]

Words are like stories. They change as they are passed from mouth to mouth; their meanings stretch or truncate to fit what needs to be said. - Pip Williams, The Dictionary of Lost Words

Admont Abbey Library

[gayredheadbitch]

Me: "Why did you fall in love with me?"

Her: "I don't understand?"

Me: "Of all the girls in the world, why did you fall for me?"

Her: "Because my heart wanted you before I knew who you were. Of all the girls in the room, you beamed like a star".

Me: 🥺

[pritamandginsbergsgarden]

from collected poems by John Berger

[major2501]

My First Coven: Midnight Hour

I was sat on a folding canvas chair in the middle of the woods in front of a huge bonfire, after midnight. My mouth was slightly agape, dry and wordless. But I had been issued a mug of hot tea with milk and two sugars.

'I bet you've got a lot of questions Maddie.' My Auntie M said who was sat beside me in her scary black hooded cloak, sipping her own mug of tea. I just sort of turned in her direction with the same look of confusion on my face. I glanced round at all of the other people who were dressed in similar black cloaks, milling about eating biscuits and drinking tea. They were all women, of varying ages and different ethnicities. I got a better look at everyone now with their hoods down and with the addition of a bunch of battery powered lamps that had been hung from the surrounding trees.

'Um, yeah.' I mumbled, sipping my tea which was for a lack of better word; perfect. Auntie M rested her elbows on her knees, clasped her hands together then rested her chin on them.

'So, all this weird stuff that's been happening to you recently has been happening for a reason. We call it an "awakening."' Auntie M finger quoted. 'The dreams, the nightmares, seeing things that aren't there, disappearing objects, the ravenous hunger, the sickness, tiredness, over sensitive senses. It's all related.'

'How?' I literally only had one word replies at this moment in time. I couldn't quite tell if I was tired or in shock or both. My Aunt though was getting straight in to it.

'Well I don't really know how to say it, so I'll just say it. You're a witch Maddie.'

If I had taken a drink of my tea before Auntie M said that, then I would've done a spit take. But that didn't happen.

'A... witch?' I sounded pretty clueless as if I didn't know what the word meant. I still wasn't buying it.

'Yep. A witch. An actual witch. Everyone here is a witch, so am I.'

I turned to look at my Aunt who was giving me her kind smile, the smile she did when she was being honest and sincere. I didn't believe what she was saying and she could read it on my face.

'You want proof. Okay.'

I watched her carefully as she rearranged herself in her seat whilst I just stayed slumped down in to mine, casually holding my mug as if I didn't know what to do with it. Auntie M simply moved her right hand and as if by magic, a flickering ball of fire appeared in the palm of her hand. Except it was magic.

'Holy shit.' I was particularly deadpan in my delivery. I rubbed my left eye with my free hand as if I was trying to rub an illusion away and I don't know what possessed me, but I just went and stuck my hand in the ball of fire.

'OW! Fuck me that hurt!' I squealed, jumping from my seat whilst nearly sloshing my brew all over the place. My hand was in agony now and she skin on my fingers had instantly turned a horrible colour. I felt all eyes on me now after my scream had attracted the attention of everyone else. They all turned and looked at me, smiling away as if nothing had happened. I sat back down and winced in pain as the skin on my fingers had already begun to blister pretty badly.

Auntie M took my hand in hers. I winced again even though she was being quite gentle and watched as she hovered her hands round mine. I felt my hand tingle, it wasn't an unpleasant experience but it felt strange; sort of like pins and needles. Then all of a sudden I could feel a cool sensation emitting from my Aunts hands. I watched intently as within a few seconds, the blisters and redness gradually faded in to nothing and my hand was well... fixed. I gazed at my hand in awe.

'I'm dreaming or something.' I groaned.

'Nope, you're not dreaming. It was your time to know.'

'Why?'

My Auntie M sighed.

'Every woman in our family dating back since long, way long before the witch trials has been a witch. We're actually descended from one of the original witch families in the United Kingdom. When we reach a certain age, we have an awakening usually somewhere around Samhain where our bodies tell us a change is coming.'

Auntie M was just saying words at me at this point, I wasn't even sure any of it was actually sinking in to my brain.

'As a witch, we're sworn to protect and help others who need it. We're guardians of this realm against against spiritual evils that mortals can't contend with.'

'Great, so I'm basically a battle mage in a video game.' I thought to myself.

'If a video game was real life then, yeah kinda.'

'Did you just read my mind?' I snapped back. Auntie M just grinned at me sheepishly.

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. It was all a bit much right now.

'So that's why you always knew what was going on with me I take it?'

'Yep.'

It fell silent for a few moments then I decided to speak.

'So my mother was a...'

'Witch yes.'

'And my other Aunts were too?'

'They were indeed. More to the point, there's some people I'd like you to meet. Molly, Macy can you come here a sec please?'

Two of the cloaked figures looked at us then walked over carrying their mugs. They were both just a bit taller than me and both had hair a bit darker than mine but when they got closer, I noticed that they were both twins. Identical twins.

'Molly, Macy. This is Madelyn. Madelyn meet Molly and Macy, your cousins.'

Way to drop another bombshell Auntie M. Not only have I just stumbled upon a coven or whatever, but my cousins that I knew I had, thought were actually guys but have never met in my life before, are witches too and are standing right in front of me. They we're also named in accordance with our family tradition of all the women in our family being given a name beginning with M.

The two twins stood in front of me both took one of my hands and grasped them firmly as they smiled.

'It's nice to finally meet you!' They both said in unison. That was a bit freaky. Molly was on the left and Macy was on the right. I did notice that Macy had a pretty noticeable freckle on her left cheek just under her eye. At least I could tell them apart.

'Um, nice to meet you too.' I said in reply. I really wasn't sure what to say I was pretty taken aback. How was I not told about them?

My identical twin cousins took my hands again and tugged me over to where the others were chatting and introduced me to them. The five remaining people I didn't know were of all ages. Molly and Macy told me I was the youngest one there and that they were only a few years older than me and were attending university somewhat locally. The next was a young Asian woman named Mai who I think was in her mid twenties and had just recently qualified as a solicitor. Then there was Carmen, a lady with peppery curly hair who owned a pub in Baldock and looked to be in her forties. Then there were two more sisters, Gabrielle and Brianna who were originally from Jamaica but moved to the UK when they were little, I think they were in their forties. And finally there was Deirdre, a woman in her 50's who owned a florist shop.

They all seemed very nice and welcoming but I still was not feeling any of this at all. I really just wanted to wake up all snug and cosy in my bed.

I hung around for a while as everyone was busy chatting to me. Apparently there were usually a few more people there but some had prior commitments. Full moons were when the coven would usually meet mainly for social reasons and to discuss any spells they maybe working on or have already done, to swap spells and ingredients and to give the low-down on any nasties that have been plaguing the real world. Oh. And my Auntie M was the covens high priestess.

'Technically I'm like the area manager of several covens across England.' Auntie M interjected. 'Anyway lets call it a night folks, we've done what we need to and it's getting late.'

Everyone agreed and started packing away all their stuff. Deirdre had produced a large holdall from under the trestle table and began packing all the chairs away. I watched as she folded up all the canvas chairs, all eight of them and shoved them in to this bag that wasn't even big enough to hold one of them. What nearly sent me over the edge was when she picked up the small hot water Thermos geyser looking thing and placed it inside the bag then threw in the brew making supplies; then proceeded to fold up the trestle table and cram it in to this mind boggling holdall. It was like Mary Poppins' magic bag.

Everybody hugged and said their goodbyes. They all gave me their phone numbers written on a piece of paper and my cousins even said we should all go out together sometime and get to know each other. Then everyone started disappearing. They literally vanished in to thin air; with a weird swooshing sound. It almost looked like everybody had conjured a door sized wall of shimmering mist and walked through it; their bodies dispersing as they passed the thin panel of cloudy air.

'We can teleport?' I said, staring wide eyed at the now empty spaces where the other witches were stood. Auntie M was stood by the bonfire with her hands facing out, she slowly clenched her fingers in to fists and the bonfire

'We can teleport, you'll learn how to do that in time. C'mon let's get you back to your dorm.'

Tonight had been exhausting. I'm still not entire sure everything was real or not and I wasn't just having one of my really vivid dreams again. I had been quiet as well, I mean; how are you supposed to react to being told you're a witch as well as meeting family members who are also witches for the very first time? I guess I was pretty nonchalant for the most part. I still wasn't convinced.

I watched as my Aunt closed her eyes for a brief second. As quick as she had done that  I could feel a strange warmth; almost a strange feeling energy radiating from her.

'Hold on.' Auntie M took a hold of my hand and for a brief second yet another strange sensation came over me. It felt insanely cold and it went pitch black for that split second, almost like somebody had just flicked the light switch off and on again and then, we were out in the hallway in front of my dorm room. I had staggered slightly upon landing i suppose you could call it, but managed to right myself pretty quickly.

'How are you feeling Maddie?' Auntie M asked me.

'Um, a little overwhelmed I guess. I don't know.'

'Don't worry, let it sink in a bit then I can explain everything properly tomorrow. My awakening was pretty similar, in fact everyone's awakening is kinda the same.'

I just nodded. I just wanted to go to bed or wake up from this dream or whatever, I wasn't sure any more. Auntie M ruffled my hair which brought me back to my senses.

'Get some rest, see you in the morning kiddo.'

Then she disappeared.  

[kitaston]

The real Jamaica Inn in Cornwall, standing on the twenty-mile road between bodmin and Launceston. Daphne du Maurier stayed here in 1930. An example of how she drew on real-life places to inspire her imagination.

[byronicist]

"If I were well-to-do / I would put roses on roses, and cover your grave / With multitude of white roses, and just a few / Red ones, a bloody-white flag over you."

D.H. Lawrence, Birthday (1914)

[artemismatchalatte]

Started reading Radclyffe Hall's biography The Trials of Radclyffe Hall by Diana Souhami. I've only read about fifty pages and it's already a lot.

Alternatively, I am 'poor baby' and also 'but girl, why would you do that?'

I wasn't alive 120 years ago and throwing my piles of inheritance money at every hot woman I saw... but perhaps I would have been doing this if I lived like Radclyffe Hall.

[gone2soon-rip]

GRAHAM OAKLEY (1929-Died December 19th 2022,at 93).Briths children’s book writer and illustrator,best known for his beautifully illustrated Church Mice series of books,about the tales of a protective ginger cat and a hoard of friendly mice,all living in a village church.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graham_Oakley

[itsawritblr]

Here's a link to the Daily Mail article about it.

The great-great-great grandchildren of Dickens take a selfie with him on his 202nd birthday.

[quaintrelledragicorn]

A vulgar word, well placed and said with just enough vigour, can express far more than its polite equivalent.

Pip Williams, Dictionary of Lost Words

photo: Annasofiapark on ig