december 2022

in which the cold settled deep in our bones

I have been on a real maritime horror kick lately. I didn’t mean for it to happen; this was supposed to be my autumn of Shah Rukh Khan films; I had a whole playlist of his biggest classics locked and loaded. I was going to learn to make chai, practice my chana dal (and even attempt other dals), and really revel in the colour, language, and music of Bollywood films. Warmth and light in a time of growing darkness.

But then ghosts. And monsters. And vast, unknowable stretches of water. Needs rimed with salt and slick with moisture.

I say this as if it came as a total surprise, despite admitting last month how excited I was that the weather had turned so I could work unfettered on my darker projects. Then there were all the witchy and vampire-y books I’d read... Of course, I would need to feed the beast, and of course, being horror, it would want the same kind of meat it was made of.

So, monsters and boats are my spooky jam right now (probably going to regret the meat/jam metaphors later). It’s nice because, though in the same genre ballpark, neither relate particularly to the projects I’m working on, so I’m not suffering from imposter syndrome (any more than usual) and getting caught in some feedback loop of comparing my work to someone else’s (and invariably coming up short, because isn’t that always the way?)

I’m still working on the YA folk-horror, and hoping to have a solid draft ready to go by the end of the year (let’s check back here in January to see if I made it - don’t lay down any money on it, gang…). I recently shared a snippet on Instagram, so here it is for you, too:

I’ve paused the ghost story until the new year, after I’ve delivered the YA, and plan to spend January and early Feb whipping it into shape. After the fire and enthusiastic vim of the first week of the new year wears off, January through February is almost always a vile, cold, and desolate time, and nothing says vile, cold, and desolate like a haunted house story. So I might as well work with it!

I have also just entered into a SECRET WRITING PACT with a mystery friend. Both of us are playing with writing in new genres, and so we have pledged in blood (not really) to send each other weekly/fortnightly chapters to hold ourselves accountable and to collect praise and encouragement. As I write this newsletter on Saturday afternoon, I am aware my first chapter is due on Monday, and I haven’t started it yet, so that should make tomorrow fun.

I also had to come up with a pitch for something very quickly and scared the absolute shitz out of myself with how utterly dark it is in the process. Tis the damn season, I guess. Hopefully, more on this soon.

News-wise, HER DARK WINGS was chosen as one of the Guardian’s Best Children’s Books of 2022!

And was selected as a Book of the Year by The Reading Agency (in the company of Maggie O’Farrell! Celeste Ng! ACTUAL DAVE GROHL!!!)

I haven’t had a book on a Best Books of the Year list before, let alone one on a list with ACTUAL DAVE GROHL, so this is absolutely magical for me; I’m over the moon.

In personal news, I was Twitter’s main character for a whole forty-eight hours thanks to a flippant tweet about frowning; I bought a teeny tiny poinsettia; found a punnet of clementines where EVERY SINGLE ONE was a banger; decided to try out navy mascara (I like it!); did a big winter clear-out; had a very awkward conversation about Mothman; and also started painting my nails and wearing red lipstick again.

It used to be something I always did; I painted my nails red but left the moons bare (think budget Dita Von Teese), and I wore red lipstick. I can’t quite remember when or why I stopped - it wasn’t the pando, it predates that, and I have a horrible feeling it’s tied to low self-esteem and not feeling like I ‘deserved’ to have nice nails or lips, but whatever it was, it seems to be over, and I’m letting myself be lovely again in these little ways. I like the mildly hypnotic state I go into when I paint my nails, all of my focus on staying in the lines, on smooth, swift strokes, on the transcendent patience in waiting for them to dry, only to add another coat, watching the colour deepen, the gloss shine. I especially love the slightly weighty feeling you get after you paint your nails, the bearing down of beauty on your fingertips.

A pity I chose to get hot (again) at the exact point in the year when I have no events coming up. I’m done for 2022; bring on 2023!

As I said at the start, I’ve been reading and watching mostly maritime horror this month. I read Julia Armfield’s OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA and re-read Mira Grant’s INTO THE DROWNING DEEP, a book I love so much. Let me share the premise with you: “Seven years ago, the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary, bringing ancient sea creatures of legend to life. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a tragedy; others have called it a hoax. Now, a new crew has been assembled to investigate. And they’ll discover that whatever is down there is definitely no joke . . .”

It’s such a vivid, visceral and clever book, and absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying to boot. I wish I could have it wiped from my memory to experience it again for the first time. There is a particular part with a submersible that is genuinely haunting. If you read it/have read it, let’s talk about it!

As I write, my current read is Dan Simmon’s The Terror. It’s a big old chonk of a story, clocking in at almost 1000 pages, so it’s taking me a while. I haven’t seen the TV adaptation yet, but I plan to find it once I’m done with the book.

And talking of TV, I am recently OBSESSED with 1899 on Netflix. I fancy Captain Larsen, I fancy Daniel Solace, I have no idea what’s happening, but it is a cracking good time. I’m actually watching the last two episodes tonight; I don’t expect any answers to my questions, and if I’m honest, I don’t want any. When it comes to the supernatural, I like mystery, and I like not having all the answers. That’s very much my spooky jam.

In addition to having no news or events to share, I’ve also been a little slack with my cooking. This is a direct result of the big clean I did and the encroaching Christmas of it all. The big clean left me with a load of things that needed to be eaten in a more timely manner than I might have otherwise done, and Christmas coming means eating everything that doesn’t have Festive Vibes post haste. So my food has mostly been Half Remembered Things. BUT I did make chili, and risotto, and here is the recipe for that (I did butternut squash instead but same diff).

Wait a second, you’re thinking. You can’t just be posting recipes from books, Melinda. Actually, I can. You see, it’s my recipe, from my book, THE WAY BACK ALMANAC. This particular recipe is from the 2022 edition, which is about to become distinctly retro. However, the 2023 edition is super fresh, and, what’s more, would make an amazing Christmas present for pretty much everyone you’ve ever met. Obviously, all of my books would make amazing Christmas presents, ideally en masse, as a bundle, but the almanac is a particularly great gift. I wrote the almanac especially for people who live in flats, or house shares, or who can’t get out and about into nature very easily for whatever reason; it’s designed to be more accessible than the usual almanacs are. It features nature-spotting ideas, what’s happening in the skies, recipes, folklore, interviews, book recommendations, gardening tips, a journal section, and more, all in a beautiful hardback!

And lastly, magic.

It feels right now like it’s never going to stop being cold and dark, and the truth is we’re not even in winter yet. But, what you might have forgotten is that the winter solstice (Wednesday, 21st December this year) might mark the official beginning of winter, but it also heralds the beginning of the light’s return. From the solstice, we get a little more sunlight every day; incrementally, subtly, the light starts to come back. We’re almost through the darkest days.

A simple ritual for Winter Solstice, then, to harness the light.

You will need yourself and a white candle.

In a darkened room, find a comfortable sitting position of your choice, and have the candle and something to light it in place before you. Take a moment to just breathe, in and out with deliberation, notice each breath, deepening and evening them.

When you feel ready (I know it’s vague, but that’s magic, baby - it’s all vibes and feelings), light the candle, and focus on the flame. Think about how light defeats darkness; from the sea-sweeping beacon of a lighthouse to the fleeting spark of an unexpected shooting star, even the smallest light can make a difference.

Imagine the flame growing bigger, big enough for you to step inside. Imagine the light surrounding you, cradling you, protecting you, banishing all shadows and darkness from your life. Then picture the light moving inside you, filling your body, making you the light in the dark.

When you feel full of light, silently, gratefully, thank the candle for sharing its light with you, and put it out if you wish (even better if you can leave it to burn down).

Carry that light lent from the flame with you through the winter. Remember it’s inside you now, tend to it, kindle it, feed it with good food and good books and good company (or meat and spooky jam, if that’s your monster’s taste). Keep it cosy and safe.

After all, it grows because you tend it.

See you next month, in a brand new year! x