In the midst of death

Photo: Julie Travis

Photo: Julie Travis

Strange fiction and stranger dreams.

We Are All Falling Towards The Centre Of The Earth is nearly 7500 words long and heading towards its finale. Finding the sadness I need to convey in the story is easy – channelling it is difficult and emotionally draining. Once I’ve finished the first draft – which may well be done during my week in Lydford, with its powerful energies (as mentioned in my last post) – I can let it rest awhile and re-draft Parasomnia. I also found the beginnings of another story, The Spoiler, possibly ten years old, which was far better than I remembered it being, so that’s next on the list for when Parasomnia is finished. Story relays are working well for me.

The title of this piece is the title of the photograph I hope will form the the front cover of the second Storylandia collection, a version of the dead deer on the banner of this website, in tribute to Ian Johnstone.

Strange dreams abound, of course, the best of my most recent ones involving a city of gigantic buildings and huge bronze sculptures dedicated to a composer (his name was spoken but had slipped my mind by morning), of me flying along the avenues, heading West, out of the city and all the way to a super-real North Somerset coast and along to a small town located there – Weston-super-Mare. Weston has a lot of Occult/magickal connections – Aleister Crowley, Dion and Coil/Jhonn Balance are names that spring to mind.

UPDATE: NOTES FROM LYDFORD – the energy in this area is as powerful as I’d hoped it would be. We Are All Falling… was finished on my first day here and is now 8700 words long. I found myself unable to stop writing and was in tears when I’d finished. The story’s let me go for a while, and it’s a relief. A more thorough investigation of Lydford village found the church was haunted – or at least held a presence…Something was in there, anyway! Next to the castle we found a Viking stone covered in Runic lettering and in the Castle Inn the witch glasses that I’d seen before were sadly gone, although the strange hexagonal glass was still there and the Green Man appeared to peer out from a place behind the stained glass window of the pub’s door.


All images and text: copyright Julie Travis


There is water on the moons of Saturn

Photo: Julie Travis

Photo: Julie Travis

New story We Are All Falling Towards The Centre Of The Earth – also the working title of the Storylandia collection it’s being written for – has broken the 5,000 word barrier. It’s a fairytale set in 1960s East Germany, in my head a black and white arthouse film that needs to be put into words. I hope I can do it justice. I’m pushing further and further into strange headspaces when I’m writing now. On Saturday it meant I made good progress but I got into a place that I couldn’t get back from, it was as if I only existed in this story and not anywhere else. Bearing in mind I believe stories are events happening in different times/dimensions and the writer’s job is to tune in and document them, I wondered if I was being invited through to this one. Not a bad option in itself but I was aware of being stuck between two places. Luckily for me (perhaps) I received a text message which pushed me back to the here and now. I do need to have a better plan when I’m doing this, though. A one-way ticket isn’t a good idea.

I’m excited about a forthcoming return to Dartmoor, staying in Lydford this time. It’s a favourite place of mine, on the route of the Serpent line investigated by dowser and blacksmith Hamish Miller in his inspirational book The Sun And The Serpent (Penwith Press). He found terrible energy in the grim prison that sits in the village. I haven’t felt it, but the pub next door (The Castle Inn), with its Pagan and witchcraft fittings is incredibly powerful, so much so that when I went in there for the first time I sat in the garden and wept.

All images and text ©Julie Travis


Some technical issues

For the last few weeks I have been unable to load WordPress sites, including my own (although luckily the dashboard still works, as you can see). It may be a browser problem, which I’m trying to resolve. For now, I can only access other people’s sites via the email notifications I get. I haven’t stopped reading people’s blogs – I just can’t click the ‘Like’ button or comment. Please don’t think I’ve lost interest!

Major writing news

Black Static 53 cover

It’s been an incredibly hectic couple of weeks. As you can see, Black Static #53 is out and includes a comprehensive review of Storylandia 15, as well as a load of great looking reading. Peter Tennant comparies the collection to the likes of Arthur Machen and Algernon Blackwood as well as Clive Barker, and highly recommends it. Illustrious company indeed! Many thanks to Peter for taking the time to do this. I so often operate in a vacuum, it’s extremely interesting and helpful to get an idea of what other people think of what I do. Do I need this kind of validation? As much as anyone else does – I yo-yo between brimming confidence and wild self-doubt, and I was a bit concerned that some of what I now write is just simply inaccessible to the rest of the world.

Following on from the review, I’ve been interviewed by Peter for Case Notes on the TTA Press website. He asked some good questions and I gave some very honest answers. When I first began writing, one of my ultimate goals was to be interviewed. Twenty-three years later, it’s actually happened! (as a writer – I’ve been interviewed as a musician and as a political activist). Of course, what I really meant was that I needed to be heard and taken seriously and the writing provides its own voice. The interview will either get people very interested in what I do or will send them running for the hills.

Andy Martin’s anthology, Fast-Clean-Cheap, is now at the proof-reading stage and is due to be published in September this year by Lulu. It’s likely to be an eclectic collection, with my two pieces probably the only ones inthe horror/dark fantasy vein. Expect the unexpected from Andy!

Finally, I’m very happy to announce that Wapshott Press have asked me to do a second short story collection, for release around the end of 2017. I’ve two or three stories already completed for it, plus a few tricks up my sleeve regarding some older (almost unseen by anyone else) work and two or three new stories to write for it in the next year. The working title for the collection is We Are All Falling Towards The Centre Of The Earth, and I have some thoughts for the book’s cover, too. Once again I have to thank Ginger Mayerson and all at Wapshott Press for such amazing support and faith.

All text ©Julie Travis

Parasomnia continues

I am not British.

I’ve never felt part of the country I happen to have been born in. To me it has always been a matter of having been born on this piece of land as opposed to that piece of land. Which is why I’ve never had a problem with people moving around the world to try and improve (or save) their lives. At my abysmal comprehensive school it was made clear how different I was: an identical twin. A punk. Not like other girls. I was surrounded by racists, anti-Semitics and homophobes, with the teachers standing by and letting all the bullying go on around them (and sometimes joining in). I voted Remain in the EU referendum on Thursday for two principles: co-operation and looking outward. This island country was insular enough. Now the disastrous result has been declared, after a campaign based on lies, inciting racial hatred and even murder: one White far-Right sympathiser chose to blame immigrants, refugees and the people who help them for his nondescript life and shot and stabbed to death Jo Cox, one of the few MPs in the UK who appeared to be a decent person. The country is in the hands of the ultra-Right – at all levels. Racial hate crimes have shot up over the last few days – big, White men are telling non-White-British children to ‘go home’ and are throwing bricks through the windows of Turkish and Spanish shops. For them, leaving the EU really means that anyone not exactly like them should leave the UK. It is a battle between the thinkers, the creative people, those who have travelled or educated themselves – and those who have chosen not to, who have no imagination, who fear the Other. It transcends class. I don’t want to live in England anymore, but it’s not practical for me to move to the obvious choice – Scotland, a far more compassionate country which may well vote for independance from the UK and make its own relationship with the EU. In some ways this is reminding me of the backlash the gay community (in London at least) suffered after the Labour landslide victory in the 1997 General Election, after Labour’s pledge for equal rights for us. All my friends were attacked. I talked my way out of several beatings. It was a bad time, but this feels much, much worse. All I can do is reflect this in my writing (something I’ve always done anyway) and intervene, as I have done before, when this stupidity rears its head on the street or anywhere, at least until I can get my bearings and work out what the future holds.



The herding call

Photo: Julie Travis

Photo: Julie Travis

I’ve now completed the first draft of Dark Fire and am over 1,000 words into a new story, Parasomnia. I’m finding it difficult to not write at the moment, despite my feelings of isolation as a writer. I suspect a great help has been the March 2016 issue of Fortean Times, a magazine I used to read regularly. This particular issue has a feature on the Occult and Fortean sides of David Bowie’s work and a piece on J G Ballard’s fascination with Ronald Reagun in the late 1960s and how controversial his mock psychological study, Why I Want To Fuck Ronald Reagun was when it first appeared in print. It’s another reminder of how much of an influence Ballard has been to my writing, especially when I first began in the early 1990s. I once wrote a mock airline handbook on how passengers should approach plane crashes, which sadly is long lost on a floppy disk somewhere. ‘Parasomnia’, relates to that early work in some respects, although I doubt if Ballard’s influence is obvious in the story. I want it to be a companion piece to Bedlam’s Way, a very early story of mine which was originally selected to appear in a fiction supplement in the New Statesman magazine. The supplement never appeared (with, of course, no explanation from anyone as to why) but the story was published in Saccade magazine in around 1996.

As well as using methods to get into a particular headspace for the purposes of writing, I’m finding that what I’m writing – and when reading older pieces of my fiction – is inducing strange headspaces, too. Does that mean I’m successful/a ‘good artist’? Good art, after all, is about accurately portraying whatever it is the artist wants to portray. Additionally, I’m wondering whether words have the potential to act like a Sigil, when put together in a certain order under certain conditions. At their best, I suspect so, although time will tell whether my own work achieves that in anyone other than myself.

All images and text ©Julie Travis