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This week, my creative task isn’t actually writing. It’s reading and rummaging! I’m going through my fiction projects, opening old files, rereading half-written chapters, rediscovering notes I’d completely forgotten about and generally peering into the slightly chaotic cupboard where my stories live. And there are rather a lot of them. There are books waiting for revision. There are first drafts waiting to be finished. There are stories that have a beginning, an ending and a

In my September newsletter, I mentioned being invited to write and narrate my poetry and poetic prose at The Shape of Change International Art Symposium at Ninovan Horse Sanctuary. The event celebrated transformation, embracing change and coexistence, themes that resonate deeply with me, particularly given my lifelong connection with horses. Ninovan does wonderful work in providing a sanctuary for horses, offering them safety, care and the opportunity to live with dignity and

Wanda went walkabout at Capelinhos today, A trusty wheelie walker, she was on her way. Down the red track she rattled and rolled, Feeling adventurous, fearless and bold. Past the black lava, all rugged and rough, Wanda declared, "This is easy enough!" But over the ridge, with a wobble and sway, The walker had other ideas this grey day. She clattered on rocks, she stumbled on stone, And muttered, "I really should have stayed home!" But the waves were spectacular, crashing with

There is a particular moment in the life of a book when the writing is finished, but the book itself is not. I have reached that moment with Island Perspectives & Ponderings. And, rather excitingly, the book has now begun its journey towards becoming a real, physical thing. From manuscript to ISBN The first step in that journey is already underway. My ISBN application is being processed, which makes this feel considerably more official. There is something wonderfully tangible

Off we went this morning, Along the coastal way. Me and her go out, To greet the sea today. We headed for the beach path, The sea was looking fine, Then suddenly…a barrier! For me it’s not designed. “Come on, girl, you can do this.” She expected me to squeeze. I performed the limbo, I was nearly on my knees! And then I saw the ocean, Oh, this is rather grand! I rolled towards the shoreline, And then I met…the SAND! “Nope! I’m not going any further, You really need to know. My

My brain has gone out for a little fresh air, I’m fairly sure it was here, but it’s no longer there. I reached for a thought, but it slipped out of sight. A perfectly good thought. It was there half the night. Which, frankly, is awkward when writing’s your trade, Because words are the tools from which poems are made! I need them to sparkle, to twist, and to flow, But today they’re on strike, and refusing to show. I know there’s a word for the thing I require, It’s sitting som

Here I share my piece of flash fiction that was accepted and published by Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine. Things Left Unsaid: A Flash Fiction Anthology The anthology brings together a diverse collection of flash fiction exploring words, feelings and stories that are left unsaid. This was fun to write, and challenging to keep the short story under 300 words. THE NEXT EXIT They were just twenty minutes from the city when it happened. For one fractured second,

Here I share my Haiku that was accepted and published by Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine. It was such fun to write within these confines: A haiku is a short, unrhymed poem that originated in Japan. It typically follows the structure of a three-line, 5-7-5 syllable pattern with a focus on nature and the seasons, but modern versions explore a wide range of topics. Rain and Roots: A Nature & Earth Haiku Anthology Summer rain dances island’s deep thirst is sated

There comes a time when you stop asking if everyone else approves. You wear the shoes you like. Eat the cake before dinner. Say no without writing an essay to explain why. You stop confusing exhaustion with virtue, and being needed with being loved. You learn that comfortable is not the same as giving up. That staying home can be an adventure too. That early nights are not boring, and cancelled plans can feel suspiciously like freedom. You begin to understand that your time i

When the blood moon rises in the velvet sky, I’ll gather what I’ve carried and let the old things die. The stories that have tethered me, the words I never said, The ghosts of who I used to be, I’ll lay them all to bed. I’ll loosen every holding, release what isn’t mine, Let sorrow meet the darkness; surrender to the night. No more dragging yesterday into the dawn of who I’ll be, No more asking broken pieces to remember how to breathe. For the moon does not apologise, For wax

SHE GAVE IMAGINATION AWAY Some women leave diamonds, some leave their names in stone. She left books, and rhinestones.. Small hands held stories that opened doors to worlds beyond their own. She knew that imagination wasn’t a luxury. It was a seed. Give a child a story and you give them somewhere to go. Somewhere to dream. Somewhere to become. She came from little but dreamed enormously. And then she gave that dreaming away. Millions of books. Millions of little doors. Millio

I received this email following my accepted submission of Haiku poetry. You can check out all the authors words for free by clicking on the E-edition. You will find my haiku on page 81. Dear Poet, We are delighted to announce that Rain and Roots: A Nature & Earth Haiku Anthologyhas now been officially released by Fresh Words: An International Literary Magazine. The anthology brings together 92 poets from 10 countries, creating an international collection of haiku inspired by

There’s a thing. An opportunity. A submission call appeared from Fresh Words - An International Literary Magazine with a tight deadline. And immediately, that familiar little voice appears: Are you sure? Is your work good enough? There'll be hundreds of better writers. Only a few days until the deadline? Really? Perhaps leave this one… Hello, Imposter Syndrome. 👋 This time, I told her to shut up! Well… not entirely. 😂 She was still there, muttering in the corner, but I deci

Wanda the Wheelie Walker and I went wandering, Along the red stone track, wave watching. The desert-like landscape, all barren and bare, Made quite a spectacular backdrop to stare. The ocean rolled endlessly, blue and wide, While Wanda and I took it all in our stride. Well... her stride were wheels, mine were feet, But together we made a team, quite neat. We stopped for a while, to contemplate, To watch the Atlantic performing, we wait. The waves crashed and tumbled, then cam

Well.... That’s what happens when I started tidying up my own writing. I found things. Lots of things. Files galore! Poems that I’d forgotten about. A paragraph that makes me think, Oh, that’s actually rather good. Another that makes me think, What was I drinking when I wrote this? And then I started putting them together. Just to see. I even learnt how to create folders and file documents into them! And suddenly there’s a pile of words that are beginning to look suspiciously

There’d been a wish upon a list, A hopeful thought that would persist. Not just a walker, plain to see, But freedom, folds up gracefully. My name is Wanda, pleased to meet, I'm sturdy, smart and rather neat. My frame's champagne, a touch of class, Watch me shimmer as I pass. If you’re wondering why I’m Wanda, And not Matilda, Flo or Rhonda? A wish fulfilled that’s ready to wander, That’s why I’m named A Wish Called Wanda! Sally Somerton - Island Writer ©sallysomerton2026 All

When did we decide that feeling deeply was something to apologise for? That to carry the weight of the world somehow meant we were weak, dramatic or unable to cope? Perhaps the opposite is true. Perhaps those who notice the cracks, who remember the names, who cannot simply scroll past another tragedy, are not broken at all. Perhaps they are simply awake. Awake to the quiet grief that accompanies a life fully lived. Awake to the accumulated losses we gather as we grow older. F