Since my father’s death in 2013, I’ve learned a lot about grief and writing. I’ve spent late nights reading poetry books and memoirs and early mornings combing over blogs, essays, and academic journals. I have led Death Writing workshops, given a grief talk at Ignite Cardiff, and even changed my PhD topic to better understand…
Category: Fiction
Solstice Festival
After freelancing seven days a week from September to May, I look forward to taking back my weekends each summer. For me these days mean lots of tea, new poetry collections, and as much writing as I can manage. Often, I also squeeze in a few walks, documentaries and drinks with friends. They allow me…
People and Place
Today the street I live on in Canton is preparing to host a Big Lunch event. The pavement is being swept, the bunting is going up, and the bouncy castle is on its way! If you don’t know, the Big Lunch is a UK-wide initiative which aims to get millions of people to have lunch…
Arcades and Alleys
When I first arrived in Cardiff I had my own ideas about what its arcades and alleys would be like. I assumed the arcades were places kids went to play pinball and the alleys were something I had to steer clear from at night. I could not have been more wrong. In the four years…
The Writing Process Blog Tour
Meeting other writers, listening to their work, and hearing about their process is one of my favorite things. After all, we have a lot to learn from each other. For this reason I was delighted to be asked by the wonderful Will Ford to take part in this ‘Writing Process Blog Tour’. Although I have…
City Writing
I have been trying to write the things I love about Cardiff for years. There is something here that excites me, that comforts me, that pulls me back when I’m away. This city deserves poetry more than most. With this in mind, Emma Metcalfe and I decided to set up a City Writing series which…
Made in Roath
Not long ago a friend from London told me that she has never traveled to Angel – one of my favorite little parts of the world famous capital. There’s a canal there and a small bar that plays jazz. There is a tree that hangs so far over a wrought iron fence that when I…
Death Writing
My father passed away in July of this year. It was a strange experience to have someone tell me this over the phone from thousands of miles away. After I hung up I sat quietly for a while before writing “All that’s left of him is stories now” in the last page of my notebook….
Moving Stories: Made in Roath Bookmobile
When I was young I learned the hard way that I am not the most handy person. Growing up on a farm this shortcoming grew tiresome – building fences, stacking hay bales, and carrying water buckets often left me bruised, itchy, and damp. In spite of this though, I still decided to build a bookmobile…
Roath Writers
Tonight I watched a few members of my Roath Writers group read work from our very first anthology, To the pub and back again, at Waterloo Gardens Teahouse. As I sat sipping my cucumber water and listening to their poems and stories I could not help but think about how far we’ve come. I never…
Christina Thatcher 