I went to the beach today, to breath, to be outside and, because it has been windy, to find driftwood. I use it to make things that I sell; mermaids, shrines, curious objects. It was low tide, the winds of the last few days had churned up a beautiful curd of sea trash and treasure.... Continue Reading →
Patriot: Late 16th century: from French patriote, from late Latin patriota ‘fellow countryman’, from Greek patriōtēs, from patrios ‘of one's fathers’, from patris ‘fatherland’. Recently I read a thoughtful article by John Mitchinson on the subject of Englishness, the same morning as I was interrogating my reasons for setting my book Salt Lick in England,... Continue Reading →
I am very lucky to be able to offer you a portrait by Pierre at the bargain price of £350 - an offer in support of Salt Lick that is two hundred pounds cheaper than Pierre's regular commission price. Here is a little bit more about Pierre and his work. Pierre and I were friends... Continue Reading →
This is how Salt Lick opens - somewhere on the Suffolk coast close to where much of the book is set, in a time between now and then. Water trickles through gullies in the brick, loosening bonds that held the house together for nearly three hundred years. Rain and sea meet in the crooks,... Continue Reading →
I can't deny that starting a second crowdfunding campaign is daunting. But it's also exciting. I am really happy with Salt Lick and hope it may appeal to a range of readers. I thought I might share with you where it came from, some of what made me write it. The first inkling of the... Continue Reading →
Recently I had the pleasure of meeting artist and weaver Imogen Di Sapia in her Brighton studio. It was a lovely meeting that came about because Imogen bought some of my work and I was delivering it. In my current book Salt Lick, as food production has moved overseas, the rural economy collapses and the... Continue Reading →
Book 1, Ducks, Newburyport, Lucy Ellmann Before I got up I read pages 803 - 856 of Ducks, Newburyport. This is such a wonderful book. A place to be both lost and adrift in sweet recognition. I felt so much for teenager Stacy, her clumsy, scary courage, her sullen and awkward groping for her adult... Continue Reading →
My hand writing is getting worse. But no matter. I am doing more of it. Just as I came to realise that the bump on the side of the second knuckle of my right middle finger, the biro bump, earned through tedious hours of school essay writing and solipsistic teen-journal keeping, has all but gone,... Continue Reading →
Last Thursday I was lucky enough to take part in the annual Write Stuff competition at London Book Fair. I was one of six unrepresented authors pitching our novels to a panel of five literary agents. I am really pleased to say that I won. As summarising and blurbing and elevator-pitching is one of the... Continue Reading →
Lulu Allison, contemporary fiction author 