Fiction writer, mudlarker, and pharmacologist. Currently drafting my ahistorical urban fantasy novel and exploring the Thames foreshore at low tide. she/her
I fucking love people who become more themselves with age. Stranger taste. Clearer boundaries. Louder laugh. Less interest in impressing random people. Watching somebody slowly stop auditioning for the world is fucking beautiful.
i love that no two walks are ever exactly the same. one day you see a lil a rabbit. the next it's a mushroom hiding in some moss on the ground. another day it's the way the light comes in through the trees
Crying fat hot tears because I saw a video of a bear being released to the wild and all the rangers are yelling and setting off fireworks so the bears won’t think humans are safe, because we aren’t.
“As my last act of love, I will make you hate me”
centuries of women before me have yearned to taste the freedom i get to experience nowadays by being able to say no to marriage/children and choose my own path with full agency, and i will never take that for granted. they live through me
You need a hobby that requires using your hands: baking, knitting, rock climbing, Lego building, whatever. And you also need an activity that stimulates your mind: reading, learning a new language, Soduku, word searches, the crossword
CS Lewis gave this advice to a young writer 65 years ago.
The best part is most of these points are even more true and useful today than they were then