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Isère, France (but really the realm of story). August, 2020.

Isère, France (but really the realm of story). August, 2020.

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This is the final Witness Notes before I take a break for summer. Read more about my coming plans here, in case you missed it.(After you have read these introductory paragraphs once, you can skip to the new/old content below. If you are listening, then the time stamp is around the two minute 45 second mark.)IntroductionThe word settled, to me, carries connotations I am keen to avoid. I have never felt settled or, perhaps, I cannot recall a time I felt settled. I do not feel settled now, writing this, and I’ve lived in the same house for three and a half years. Without even discussing the obvious issues of colonisation, I just don’t feel like I could, or should, settle; better to keep my constituent parts shook up, agitated perhaps, rather than separating and stagnant.Instead, I feel as though I have been travelling for years, maybe because I have not lived in my ‘home’ nation of Scotland for eight and a half years, perhaps because I know I won’t stay here forever, or maybe because I carry that concept of home in a way which differs from many?More precisely, I still think of myself as a slow traveller, globally feral. Recently, I have been revisiting places through the photographs and words I recorded when my feet crossed their soil. This is a way of reminding myself of where I have been, not just in space and time, but in mind, too. It is a wonderful thing, to come out of a low and rediscover myself through words I crafted, through the lens of a camera, when memory has wandered in the fog for too long. Thank you, past me.When I first started sharing letters with the world in this fashion, six or more years ago, I usually began them with a vignette of where I was, a sort-of travel diary, mixed with nature observation, locking in the setting for the reader, before I spoke of other things—and, by so doing, ensuring that place fed into the whole. It was a useful device, for reader and myself both but, as these letters were sent to so few readers, and now languish archived behind a paywall, I thought it a shame not to share these snippets again.As such, I am going to share a short series of these sketches, accompanied by a photograph from that time, sent to you in date order.I shall include the above paragraphs in each of the letters in this series, but I shall also include a link at the very start, so you can skip ahead once you are familiar with the above words. If you are listening and similarly want to skip, then the timestamp you want to navigate to will be in the same place.Taken without these paragraphs, each is a short read, and I hope you enjoy them.Isère, France (but really the realm of story). August, 2020.It is hard, in this day and age, to discuss certain ideas without others immediately leaping upon you, denouncing your views and thoughts in the public arena. We live in a time of echoes, reverberations of the past bouncing back into the political playbook of today. There are those amongst us who now believe politics is and always has been us versus them, rather than a meeting of minds, debate, and then a consensus and way forward as it should be.Even now I am guessing there may be some of you reading this paragraph and being repelled, pushed away, even if, perhaps, you enjoyed all my other words. The mention of the P word does that (everything we do is political, whether you like it or not, there is no escaping this reality. For example, to state ‘I don’t do politics’ is, in and of itself, clearly a political stance).However, despite my worries about upsetting people, there comes a time to nail ones colours firmly to the mast, even if they upset others.My fiction is, and always will be, political. Fiction is a medium for me to share thoughts and ideas in a format which others find palatable and, indeed, delicious. Those who believe politics should be kept out of fiction have not been paying attention, ever, especially in the genres of Science Fiction and Fantasy. This is how it is done, we turn ideas into story, rinse and repeat. For many, many hundreds of years (or thousands, in some cases, hello Homer, g’day Gilgamesh).I believe in fairness, in kindness, in equality for all. I believe in imagination, in love, in science and our ability to overcome problems through discussion and brainpower. We are an extraordinary species, and it upsets me that too many of us waste what little time we have before we return to stardust. We should all be questioning what we do in life, our choices and paths, and whether they enhance us as a whole or not. And, if not, considering how to change, how to grow. Great things can be vast, but they also operate at a micro scale, small joys are easy to share, tiny transgressions of happiness easy to conceal.Division and destruction are not in my nature but, and this is a big BUT, that does not mean I am weak or powerless. This is too often the assumption of the bully, of those who seek to shout over others. The meek, the quiet, the thinkers—we ...
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