top of page
All Posts


Of Meadows, Ocean & Flame
Sunset on the Cliffs of Faja (Sally Cross) HAPPY EARTH DAY TO YOU ALL! đżđď¸đż OF MEADOWS, OCEAN AND FLAME Sally Somerton She is not quiet, this Mother of earth, she hums through each meadow in blossom and birth. In wildflower fields bright colours run free, she dances through petal, through root, and through tree. The elders stand tall in their slow, steady grace, with branches that reach into light-filled space. Their roots w

Sally Somerton
18 hours ago2 min read
Â
Â
Â
Toilets, Time, and the Female Conditioning
Sally Somerton, Island Writer I find myself wondering, not for the first time, and likely not the last, when exactly it was decided that the quiet tending of the porcelain throne would fall, as gently and persistently as limescale, into the hands of women. Not announced, of course. Nothing so dramatic. No ceremony. No ribbon-cutting. No ancient decree etched into stone beside laws of land and lineage. Just⌠a slow seep. A drip, perhaps. Like a tap not fully turned off. One da

Sally Somerton
4 days ago2 min read
Â
Â
Â


Fibro Days & Fiction Dreams
Sally Somerton - Island Writer A fibro flare begins the day, deep joy⌠hip hip hooray. (We laugh, because truly, what else can we do?) I waddle, yes, waddle , down to garden and vine, chasing movement, in hope of loosening this reluctant spine. The air is kind, at least. The earth is steady beneath me. But my muscles protest regardless, a chorus of no, not today. Still⌠I try. Because stopping entirely feels far worse than moving slowly on. Back inside, the reality settles, a

Sally Somerton
Apr 131 min read
Â
Â
Â


A WRITER'S INTERRUPTION...3am MOONLIGHT MUSINGS
A Dear Diary Ditty... Sally Somerton Ah⌠it must be 3am. Or edging closer to 4, Iâm sure. Because there it is again, my mind, wide awake, knocking far too loudly at my door. Not a polite tap. No gentle suggestion. But an urgent insistence, Now. Write this now. So I fumble in the dark, pen scratching across paper balanced on the edge of sleep, trying to catch the thoughts before they scatter like startled birds. Ideas spill, half-formed, luminous, demanding, as if theyâve bee

Sally Somerton
Apr 131 min read
Â
Â
Â


Riding One Wave
Sally Somerton, Island Writer Wise-woman witterings on perfectionism, creative overwhelm, and working towards finishing what I started... Thereâs a quiet confession Iâve been sitting with lately. My perfectionism, which I thought I had dealt with long ago, has been slipping into my writing. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But in those subtle, almost convincing ways⌠Tweaking a paragraph again. Rethinking a character arc. Pausing a story because âitâs not quite right yetâ And th

Sally Somerton
Apr 112 min read
Â
Â
Â


Meet Anna Ashcott
Anna Ashcott has always noticed what others miss. Not in an obvious way. Not with any desire to intrude. But in the slight pause before someone answers a question. The story that shifts, just enough, on its second telling. The silence that lingers a fraction too long. It made her good at her work. An investigative journalist with a reputation for patience rather than persistence. For listening, rather than pushing. But even she didnât see it coming. The moment her own life wo

Sally Somerton
Apr 82 min read
Â
Â
Â


When Everything Falls Apart, Something Begins.
Sally Somerton, Island Writer of mysteries, midlife adventure and a sprinkle of psychological suspense. Thereâs something about the ocean that refuses to explain itself. It doesnât rush to fill the silence. It doesnât tidy the edges. It simply moves; steady, restless, ancient as it whispers secrets we feel, more than understand. And perhaps thatâs why weâre drawn to it, especially when life unravels. Because the ocean doesnât ask us to have it all figured out. It meets us exa

Sally Somerton
Apr 52 min read
Â
Â
Â


đPINK MOON POEM â A WRITER'S LIFE âď¸
Sally Somerton, Island Writer. The page waits. It always does, Calm, composed, Slightly smug. Meanwhile, The writer does not. There are, at last count, seven books, maybe more. Seven Plus! Not written, you understand. Not finished. Not published. Oh no. Started. Each one is brilliant, obviously. Each one demands my attention. Each one arriving at precisely the moment Another was about to make progress. Because why finish a book When can I begin another? Outside, the pink moon

Sally Somerton
Apr 22 min read
Â
Â
Â


đž THE DAY ANNA MET MABEL đž
Sally Somerton, Island Writer. Island Mysteries, Midlife Adventures, with a touch of Psychological Suspense. đžHere I share a vignette, introducing you to Mabel, one of my characters, in my Island Mysteries series set in the Azores. The morning Anna Ashcott stopped pretending she was fine began with perfect weather. Sunlight poured generously across the terracotta roofs, as if nothing in the world had ever gone missing. The sea, just beyond the low hum of the town, gently met

Sally Somerton
Apr 13 min read
Â
Â
Â


How I Became an Island Writer (Quite By Accident)
Mature woman sat on balcony overlooking the ocean, notebook and pen poised.. I didnât set out to write fiction. In fact, if youâd asked me a few years ago, I would have said, with great confidence, that I was a non-fiction writing woman . Thoughtful, grounded, sensible, even. But then⌠There has always been this niggle at the back of my head to write a book set in France. Not in a dramatic, whirlwind, cinematic sort of way. More of a quiet unfolding. Farmhouses and shuttered

Sally Somerton
Mar 313 min read
Â
Â
Â
bottom of page