Tag: mental health

Day four of our alphabet – ways to look after you. D. D is for depression

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

In my life I have several periods of depression and I could not see beyond it. My experience is that – reminder I am not a medical professional and I’m a Doctor of Creative Writing! – sadness and depression may be confused. I have found that when you are sad you can still have joy alongside it, but in depression it is through a glass darkly. Perhaps it’s different for you. Depression, for me, involved intense feelings that were just awful and I often felt deeply isolated, stressed and numb. I think periods of my childhood and adolescence were spent in depression too, and I knew it wasn’t right because I had felt happiness. This was the impact of events within the family home and the sense that no-one, anywhere, would believe. I still get snatches of that feeling now – but it fades.

Depression has a way of knocking you out and it also lies; it says, you will never get better: this is not recoverable. It’s an awful thing, but if you are managing it, know how common it is too. I am not, for the purposes of this blog and because I am not qualified to say, going to write anything about medicines or therapies, because that is not my place. I AM going to tell you about a book that has been my companion for a many a year. It’s by the late Australian psychologist Dorothy Rowe, who remains a bit of a heroine for me. I have been told by some that she is rather old fashioned, but I have been in and out of the system for years and I can tell you that I STILL find fresh insights and comfort from her work. Rowe was always particularly interested in how we create meaning and in this book, below, she explains that just as you created meaning through a series of pictures of the world, so you can create new meaning and different understandings. Isn’t it simple? That takes work, but, hearing it for the first time, it’s like soft rain on a dry soul. Here:

I have always adored Rowe’s warm and forthright style and her range of literary examples, which appeal to a bookworm like me and I encourage you to have a look at the book.

Gradually, over time, I have had fewer and fewer periods of depression because I have learned to think and behave differently and my, it has not been easy. But I leave you with a few things.

The first is that, perhaps, how you are feeling is a reasonable response to the life you are not living not being right for you. In my case, I had so many unhelpful thought patterns ingested because of what was repeatedly said to me about myself, myself and others’ view of me, and what I was capable of – either nothing or only bad things – that I needed to unlearn that this was not the whole of the world, but what I had been taught. I recall a very particular day when the scales dropped from my eyes and actually thinking how fresh and bright the colours around me were. I cried and cried with relief. I had to deconstruct that monolith inside me so I could begin to live a life that was right – or better – for me.

Now I want to say, please do not be ashamed and furthermore to reiterate that you are far from alone. I hope from this place can come new understanding and new life for you. I know that this has been the case for me.

Finally, there is work to be done and how long that takes is unique to the individual. I said above that depression lies – it says you’re no good and this will never end. It is not so.

I have so much to say on this topic, but all my posts in the alphabet need to be brief.

With all my love and with encouragements,

Anna.

Day three of our wellbeing alphabet. The letter C – for comfort

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized
Photo by Nate Biddle on Pexels.com

Hello my lovelies and let me share the simplest idea with you.

I WAS thinking of writing about C for chips, but maybe another day. Comfort. I have found that, in difficult situations or just as part of caring for me, it’s helpful to attend to comfort. I know that is going to vary because you may be living with chronic pain or illness, so I suppose I need to qualify what I write with explaining that my approach provides optimal conditions for me. Also, I want to say something about things that are comforting, as well as approach the word ‘comfort’.

So, I have a very bright crochet blanket that I like too have with me, where it’s possible. I have it because a kind person made it especially for me when I was at an absolute low. I put it over my legs and feet. I have a little spiky ball which I enjoy rolling on the soles of my feet, and, since my teens, I’ve invariably had a little bottle of lavender oil with me or maybe a tissue with a few drops of lavender on it. I also have a pot of tiger balm with me, which seems to last for years. These are things for being at home but also travel or being elsewhere. If I am feeling a bit nervous, I do enjoy using earplugs – I like the ones made by Loop. You can get ones that block out sound and ones that act more as a filter. An eye mask if I need to withdraw for a bit. These are all things that bring me back to myself a bit and give me a feeling that I am looking after myself, but it doesn’t matter what those things are; it’s a question of what they afford you.

Things that are comforting.

I have pictures of my cats on my phone and roses I grew. It doesn’t matter what the images are of, because it’s whatever brings you comfort. I am a massive bookworm, so I am frequently comforted by books insofar as I become really absorbed by them. I like to read aloud to myself if the language is particularly beautiful and quite frequently read poetry aloud: you can feel it too. I think romance with a happy ending is a wonderfully cheering thing to read. It’s not usually my first thing, but there are times when that’s what I want to read, for escapism and soothing. Flowers, herbs, the sea, birdsong: keep noticing and taking it in.

Photo by David Roberts on Pexels.com
Photo by Mihai Benu021ba on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

More broadly for feeling comforted, I have been training myself to really look at and notice things. To spend time on doing small things for myself, and to self soothe. Breathing well is grand, but because I manage real and scary health things and because of other things in my life, I have adopted a habit of putting my hand on my heart and saying a comforting phrase. Yes, I know it probably sounds a bit naff, but it works for me.

There’s a thing you sometimes hear about letting the good land. Our brains have an entirely understandable negativity bias, because that’s been necessary from an evolutionary point of view. One thing that I find comforting is that there’s work we can do. Our neurons are interesting little guys which can, with a bit of encouragement, start firing about different things. That’s brain plasticity and there is much information out there about this. Psychologist Rick Hanson whom I’ve mentioned before has a lot of free resources here and I suggests you subscribe to the weekly JOT – just one thing – newsletter. Here’s the website. https://rickhanson.com/what-to-do-when-the-bottom-falls-out/? May it bring you comfort.

At the heart of everything I have written is the simple practice of caring about yourself in the first place. Not in an egotistic and self-indulgent sort of way; not by embracing toxic positivity which is, of course, toxic. Just by introducing and doing my best to sustain things that offer my body comfort and which are comforting.

I hope you can do that for you.

All my love,

Anna.

Day 2 of our midsummer alphabet all about looking after ourselves

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

The letter B

The first thing that came to mind for B was actually…be. Let’s go with that, shall we?

Sometimes everything hurts and, because we are being realistic, the pain of some experience has to be tolerated, it has to be felt and, to a certain extent, and step by step, it has to be assimilated. In that context – but perhaps really in all, for which read on – some days all you have to do is just be. On that day, just have a day. There are some days where you are so tired and in my experience it’s good for you not to look for solutions on some days if this is a possibility you can afford.

Just be, to the extent you can be, quietly, in the middle of your own life and experience. I think this is a bedfellow to acceptance, which I mentioned yesterday. Both of these tenets have been very useful to me because I am not fighting so hard. Even if I feel sad and scared, I think, ‘Well, I’ll just…kind of…be’ and somehow the world keeps turning.

Something it took me a long time to grasp was that joy can lie alongside sorrow. Sorrow does not entirely dissolve joy – even if that joy is tiny. If I can stop agitating for a bit, that observation comes more naturally to me. How about you?

Also on ‘be’, I have – I would imagine this is partly because of hyper-vigilance – always felt the need to be doing a thing. Like, if I didn’t do a thing, whatever that thing was; if I didn’t keep busy, solving, sorting and doing, then somehow the wheels would fall off. I was scared of relinquishing control and I am still a work in progress in that regard. I have found it is very good for me to do absolutely nothing for periods of time. A few minutes here and there; half an hour: ooh – an hour sometimes. I consider this training for me. My nothing needed a prompt, however, so let me tell you what I tend to do. I lie on my bed, sometimes I cover my eyes with my eye mask (nothing fancy) and then I put my big green exercise ball on the bed and lie with my legs up. I close my eyes, daydream, focus on my breathing – in for 8, hold for 8, out for 8, counting, and a few cycles of that, and what can be managed is different for everyone, and can just be regular focus on the breath to calm the system. If I feel fretful, I rather like listening to a deep rest meditation – here’s one I liked –https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKGrmY8OSHM&pp=0gcJCdgAo7VqN5tD or try a Yoga Nidra practice, of which there are many free online. Or, on the Calm app, Spotify, YouTube or wherever, I really find binaural beats help me; this is music where tones of two slightly different frequencies are played through each ear and for which you need headphones. If you don’t like them, ditch them and try something else that you find soothing.

Most importantly about this word be. You know, we think we need so much, we think we need to do or gain or achive so much to be of worth, but, I would argue, if you are looking after others, looking after your world and looking after yourself, you need not do more. So much of the rest is a chase, an illusion; when you get ‘there’, you find there is no ‘there’ (there) and off you go again – and it can be relentless. So maybe to just be is enough?

With much love,

Bookworm

The first day of an alphabet, just for you

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

Midsummer’s Day, 2025.

It has become really clear to me that, despite my doctorate, all my books, my teaching and my salient lived experience, I am not going to be able to get a big memoir or any kind of book that’s mental-health adjacent to market. I’ve tried too many times. I don’t have a big enough author profile, I don’t have the time or the health to start and maintain and build a massive podcast, I am not a celebrity and I am not demonstrably and publicly expert enough in this area. I have found this particular disappointment a hard one to bear.

But that’s not the end. I decided that, instead, I would just spend a month gifting thoughts on topics that are about looking after you. Please know I am not a health professional and that I speak from lived experience and a lot of reading. Just enjoy these or read them for interest. Please share widely.

Today is the letter A. Let’s make it about ACCEPTANCE.

I cannot tell you of everything that is going on in my life because to do so would be treading on others’ agency. I can tell you that I came from a background which left me with a lifetime of mental and physical health problems and that for a long time no-one believed my story. I am sure plenty still don’t and Dear Lord, it has caused me so much pain and confusion. Into any life may come hardship or suffering, terrible loss, or the long dark night of a soul in a life which had seemed free; now you feel it has no meaning – no core to which you may be tethered.

People endure so much. We cannot minmise the suffering of others right now, though we ought to respond with compassion – which includes practical action. Still, what I am sharing something that has been a fundamental for me. It’s acceptance; radical acceptance, really.

You may want things to be a different way, for your life and circumstances to be different, but there may also be things you cannot change. It took me a long time to realise that the reason I was so tired was partly hyper-vigilance, but partly always trying to fix things I could not fix; to understand things I could not understand because it was not possible to access the information I needed. It’s exhausting. Acceptance is a core practice in meditation, more like being at peace with exactly what’s here, in the present moment. I am also talking about fully coming to understand that if you learn to accept, with as much grace as you can muster, those things you cannot change, you are fighting less. It is simple, but requires practice and for you to remind yourself. With such practice, it is not that you feel less, but, I have found, habits of comparing oneself with others tend to recede and you notice what you do have because you are less focused on what you don’t. I find I have been less fearful, too.

In my case, I knew I had to keep tolerating certain things that were deeply painful, too; also, I’ve had a great deal of loss – and loss in traumatic and frightening circumstances, shaping who I was as a young person. I’ve found that focus on acceptance has helped to still my nervous system. If you’d like an app, then there are some helpful things to listen to on the Calm app from Jeff Warren and Tamara Levitt and I should keep an eye on the vast amount of free teaching that well-known psychologist Rick Hanson puts out there. If you google him, you’ll find meditations, talks and the very helpful JOT – just one thing – which is a free and well-written piece of information to consider every week. It often touches on acceptance

May I suggest a text for you to read? I have found this one of great practical value.

I have much, much more to say, but these need to be brief posts.

Be well, you’re not and were never alone,

Anna x

On Burnout

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

Today has been the day when I made decisions. I hope some people out there will find what follows helpful and loving. To you, from me, with hugs. Much of this is publishing industry-related, but in the context of a complex life – and my realisation that I am not meeting my own needs.

(Picture is of me, in one of my favourite places, on St Brides Bay in Pembrokeshire – much of my family is from around here.)

You read about burnout and, while some of what I write will be about industry, this is in the context of my managing life. I feel very tired, but in a way that is not relieved by sleep. I need a broader rest and considerably less stress. So, without going into detail about the care needs and complexities in my family, just know that I am sad and need time and space to offer more loving care and more to myself. Because of my past, I am hyper-vigilant and find it difficult to let go and not be in charge. In short, to respond to life’s demands as if they are not an emergency because much of my early life and key developmental stages were predicated upon threat and emergency. I need time and space to build on the repair work I have done in specialist trauma therapy and EMDR and with meditation practice, yoga and keystones of self-care. I need time to be alone and recharge. It is very rare that I can be; that someone does not need me to do or be something and so, of course, in I rush. But you see, I am already carrying a lot and this is partly trauma response. I want to fix everything. I need to turn back to my immediate family and to myself.

What will this mean? In no particular order…

  1. I have shaved back work to teaching and mentoring for which I am contracted over the next two to three years. If I am waiting for confirmation of an event, the new rule is chase once, no reply, OUT. In other words, I am on time and frequently ahead of deadline out of respect for others. I know doing things when you say you will is not always possible, but it happens so much in publishing – in my experience that is – and the strain has shown on me. So where things are open-ended and I said I needed a decision, I allot a time period and then it’s over.
  2. I am going to start initiating deadlines more often because I just cannot have so many open-ended things happening. This will not always be possible, but I need to be more in charge of timetable where this is possible in order to plan for the care of my immediate family and to have space to respond to need and to crisis.
  3. At the moment, I have five books, including a previously published novella, two nonfiction proposals, a novel and a brand new novella under consideration. I just finished a PhD. Honestly, at no stage have I seriously given myself time to understand the volume of work that was. I need to. I need to celebrate that level of outputting. Just me. I also need to do some writing slowly and some for fun. I am switching partly to digital-first commercial fiction – if they will have me, that is – so that, among other things, the timetable is more predictable. I am feeling the strain.
  4. I realise that I am carrying much grief – for the illness, pain, the long road during which my family has been let down by any number of health and education professionals. It has been and is heart-breaking.
  5. I am just…really disappointed by elements of publishing. I am grieving that, too. But I haven’t allowed it properly. I’ve been thinking it’s trivial to have got upset, but it DOES bother me that most of my books (there is shining exception) have not been promoted much, have been ignored, that communications have been so poor, that a beautiful book sits there with stacks of unsold rights which I cannot access to sell, that I have never got funding, that I am chasing royalty statements, that Curae and the young carers’ project didn’t get funding, that I have been so let down by the industry press and by some industry professionals on the Curae prize. It’s a ground-breaking initiative for unpaid carers, for heaven’s sake. I need to grieve all that – the time wasted, only I couldn’t have known. The situations and people who just…ought to have been better.
  6. I want to find time to recharge so that I can appreciate blessings more acutely – because there are many. Teaching is the joy of my life, for example. And I actually get paid for doing something which means that much to me.
  7. I found that with my out of office on, publishing and writing folks still filled up my inboxes across socials because they need help. I don’t think I have anything spare right now. I also realised that, much as I adore people, socials were depleting my energy. I feel compelled to stay in touch and also, partly through not having been promoted as a writer, I feel compelled to always be ON. Engaged. But I’m too tired. I can’t keep this up any more. All apps off my home screen, and possibly will come off my phone, but it’s not practical just yet.
  8. I realise that I am going to have to cut a few ties, frankly. Though I am an adult, I am still seeking approval from family members who will never approve of me because my own mother didn’t approve of me and the lie settled. It’s still there. I’ve had enough now. There are other people in my life whose demands on me exceed what I am able to give; it’s tough to say, but it’s time.
  9. I want to concentrate on beauty, breathing, my kids, books, hearth and home. You may know, if you’ve kept an eye on me elsewhere, that over the past year for reasons we don’t know, threatening behaviour has happened towards me in my own home and an area of my garden was vandalised. I have not felt safe at home for some time, but I have spent the past few months strengthening boundaries, adding lights, security cameras, being supported by the community policing team and the council, who have been delightful, and by my lovely local community. We don’t know who has done this or why. For someone who comes from a trauma background, to feel invaded in this way by persons unknown has been very stressful. You see another reason I feel burned out? I haven’t felt sanctuary.
  10. I want and need to simplify my life and ringfence time to be alone and to heal. To build the strength to bear sorrow with more equanimity. That will not impact my work, which is teaching and mentoring, but it will in terms of my toleration for others’ demands, people flaking on projects, and open-ended publishing situations. I need shape and structure in a chaotic and restlessly sad world, so I can find my way back home. So I can find myself.

On the Curae Prize

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

For the writer-carer. A new, more vigorous approach and a new literary prize

‘I feel so much better. I feel seen.’

Many people who read this piece will be carers. If readers are not one now, they may be later and some of us will always be in this role. A carer (I use the NHS definition) is anyone who looks after a family member, partner or friend who needs help because of their illness, frailty, disability, a mental health problem or an addiction and cannot cope without their support. They are unpaid for this care. 2020 data from Carers’ UK found that there were approximately 7 million unpaid carers in the UK – that is, one in ten of the population; 2023 data shows an increased number of unpaid carers – as many as 11 million and with a significant rise in the 16-24 demographic Around 800,000 young people aged 5-18 are carers, too.

 I do not want to focus on me, but I shall share that I began writing partly in response to the level of stress I was under. I hope I have shown, in the breadth and volume I have produced during the past seven years, that it is possible to carve out time, even if it is unpredictable, and to work with what you have. A carer is organised; you must be that way. I was a carer as a teenager. I know what it is like to feel separate and apart. Then, you must have a great deal of spirit too, because as well as caring you may be fighting for acknowledgement, diagnosis, resources, and money. You also need time for yourself; what is more, 640 people leave paid work every day to become an unpaid carer because of lack of support available and 52% of people who request flexible working have their requests turned down. The data makes for difficult reading.

 In late 2022 I planned and launched a new literary prize, the Curae, specifically for writers and would-be writers who are carers. I conceived it so that it shone a light on the caring role, and had two ideas for the prize; anyone who was a carer could enter (free) and perhaps they would just enjoy crafting a piece of work, being part of something, and the satisfaction of sending it in. However, I also wanted to make sure that the prize could offer proper industry access for those who wanted it; resources, contacts, advice, training: opportunity in an industry that can look terrifically opaque from the outside. I want to say, too, that I believe creative work is not a luxury; it is, instead, core to who we are, a helpful discipline, a reason to carry on, a break and wonderful for our wellbeing.

Let me share something inspiring and comforting. The prize was profiled in The Bookseller and within hours of publication, people came forth from across the industry: I was offered two generous bursaries and a wealth of support and resources were given by, among many others, Andrew Nurnberg Associates Ltd literary agency, The Good Literary Agency, The Liverpool Literary Agency, Renard and Elliot and Thompson presses, North Bank Talent, Penguin, Arvon, Mslexia, Jericho Writers, The Society of Authors and writers and editors with a number of specialisms, such as memoir-writing and self-publishing – plus I had judges Michael Langan, Amy Lord and Elissa Soave, some amazing sifters and helpers, mentoring, one to ones, special support for carers from under-represented groups and much more – book tokens, bibliotherapy, signed books. It meant we were able to offer good things for our honourable mentions, our shortlist and, over a year, for our two winners.

Three hundred people entered the prize, disproportionately women, and often people who were managing mental and physical health challenges or caring for multiple people in exceptionally challenging people. It was all judged blind, but entrants sent me messages and life stories; some told me things about their feelings that they hadn’t told anyone else, and some people wrote just to say thank you for doing it, even though they weren’t entering. I hold in my heart the entrants caring for parents and partners, offering end of life care in many circumstances, looking after children and young people with life-limiting conditions, often doing the work that, from the outside, you would expect a skilled professional to do or in which you would anticipate they had a great deal of support owing to the magnitude of the task. Alas, requently not so because there are not enough resources to go round and sometimes – this is the thing that has been the hardest of all for me personally – there is an absence of will and compassion. But we have each other. Even heartbroken, no-one need be alone with it – and that is what I am most proud of and most hopeful for.

I hope to grow the prize over the coming years so that we include young carers and in order that a greater range of texts can be entered. As part of my planning, I reflected on what had been unhelpful to me as a new writer, which doors were closed – so I can push those barriers away for others. I thought about what I had needed in industry too and realised that now I had more experience and with all the brilliant industry help, we could lay that out for others. I really hope you read the anthology that sprang from it, and all proceeds go to Carers’ Trust and Carers’ UK. You can buy it here: we have already raised several hundred pounds. https://renardpress.com/books/the-curae/

I would like to offer writers and would-be writers more reassurance: do not wait for ideal circumstances; do not compare; a room of one’s own is ideal but not essential and, again and again, work with what you have and with a broken heart if necessary, because writing itself is immensely beneficial to your mental health and the industry can do more to nurture the idea that publishing work should not only be for those without additional challenges – for the privileged and full of energy.

Caring, even while it happens because of love and because we accept responsibility, is isolating. For this reason, affected writers could consider joining the Society of Authors group specifically for carers to blunt that sense of isolation.

https://www.societyofauthors.org/Groups/Carers

That done, your tribe comes into play. The group of people with whom you surround yourself as you write– this may be in person or, as is more practical for carers, online, and you need not be in similar situations but try to build a cohort of people with whom you can discuss challenges and sometimes cry or be rude and sweary about bad practice or vexation. Ask for their encouragement that you may be bold in your decisions: being a carer can be rewarding; it can also be heartbreaking, not just because of what you see a loved one going through, but because of having to find resources, multi-task, contact various agencies and, not infrequently, see it all fail. I have been there and probably will be again. If you are, simultaneously, working with someone in our industry who lacks compassion, misrepresents you, drains precious energy from you, consult your tribe and gird your loins as you plan to let this person, or these people go. I realise this is a difficult and fraught thing, but I also understand the strain you might be under, and I see you. See yourself, too. Nourish your self-belief. One of the best things about launching the ‘Curae’ prize was that writer-carers found each other and formed their own group. You can already see them wondering how they might pay it forward.

          There is genius out there, much founded in intense pain and frustration:  I am on a mission to make sure it is nurtured and seen. As writers and as an industry we can work together to ensure that happens.

With love and with encouragements,

Anna.

On mental health, mental illness and joyous, liminal living

by Anna Vaught, posted in mental health, mental health problems, mental illness, Uncategorized

Stigma. Shame. Embarrassing. Needs to toughen up. We just got on with it my day. We don’t have mental health problems in our family – we are really robust.

Scandal!

Shame!

SHHH!

Don’t you feel exposed?

Weakness.

Keep it to yourself will you, for Christ’s sake!

I don’t know anyone who’s needed counselling, therapy: just get over it.

Oh that’s just psychobabble. Did someone put that in your head?

EVERYONE has trauma these days.

For anyone who’s heard these things, felt them, let me tell me you no, no, no. You are you and managing, admitting, attempting to find help for or recovering from something difficult – just like one in four people, at any one time.

Here is my account of what life feels like on a day to day basis and how I manage it. Please be aware that this involves an account of a child and young person – me – but that I have kept the details minimal

First a history. I think I have been managing difficult things for a very long time. In late childhood and through my teen years I had OCD, most troubling as a child because of what were, to me, terrifying ruminations. Unfortunately, those thoughts took hold at least partly because my parents, particularly my mother, absolutely solidified in me the idea that I was a terrible kid and the bringer of harm. Imagine it like this: that the statements and name-calling and the many physical hurts, accompanied by many nice things too which radically confused me and led me to doubt my own mind, went in so deeply that it has taken me decades to unpick. Perhaps it would have been different had there been appropriate intervention, but no. I learned to manage on my own. I think about that kid, that teenager often.

Suicide attempts. Two. 13 and 17. No action taken afterwards. Hush up. I am jittery writing that. Please imagine the despair. I don’t think I had any confidence at all, a sense of myself: anything could hurt me because my identity was so fragile. And I was shamed.

Self harming. That started at about seven years old and continued right into my early thirties. Fear, shame, as a kid thinking that I were not hit, if I were not having my hair pulled, then I had better do it myself. Because I was an aberration and the bringer of harm. Also stress. I didn’t know what else to do so I did that. I tried to tell people at secondary school and was (this motivated me to teach at secondary level – to teach full stop) told that my parents were wonderful and I should not put them under too much stress. They were wonderful in many ways. They also, with others, did me immense harm. My mother mainly; an acquiescent father. I’ve parked it. Tried to be sympathetic. To understand what they may have been feeling – their hurts. And others in my immediate family. Do I forgive them? Nope. That’s too much pressure. Have I let them go? YES. That’s the goal. I’m not mired in it and anyway I am still dealing with the results.

Major depression. Hmmm. Several times

Anxiety. Yep.

Panic attacks. You bet. On the tube. Once on a beautiful beach.

Recurrent nightmares. To this day. I wake up crying. I yell out. But it’s getting better.

Breakdowns – if we want to use that term. Three. Two postnatal.

Hospital stays. Zero. Outpatients only, which I am told is pretty rare when you read my notes.

Flashbacks. Oh my. Getting better. But forever. Vivid, horrible things: the fear of someone behind me, coming into my room, physically hurting me, kicking me, handfuls of hair, everyone pointing and going YOU YOU YOU. I am in another place. I am not sure I am even Anna as many of you know me, but something else: a composite of others’ opinions? Complex PTSD – it hits all my senses and derails me.

Dissociation. The lower end, thank the Lord. It hangs out with the flashbacks or is triggered by stress, exhaustion, fear or someone being shitty; being unkind to me. I don’t know where my edges are – I don’t feel real. It’s like I look back at me.

Medication. Never done much for me, I’m afraid. I take a low dose of amytriptyline at night because my flight or fight responses have been so totally out of whack – hyper-vigilance lingering and in the last few years looking after an ill loved one and being on watch at night. Also magnesium, crystal sound bowls playlist and lavender oil. I’m really boring, aren’t I?

CBT didn’t touch the sides, CAT – CBT with bells and whistles -over a year was wonderfully helpful. I see the local mental health occasionally mainly because he’s a total dreamboat and I am currently engaged in trauma-focused therapy with EMDR. May I leave you to look any of that up? It’s not NHS obviously so that’s a budget of £200 a month to meet with some extra work. I needed to engage in new treatment because we weren’t there yet – and I needed a specialist. I’ve been lucky enough to find a wonderful person.

What does this mean on a daily basis?

That I have to be careful about who or what I see, to avoid conversations with people who speak a lot about these things without experience (crystals, babe do you live near pylons, it didn’t happen – because I would have known, you’re exaggerating). I have a flashback a couple of times a month and maybe one of those horrid scary dreams once a month and, on a daily basis, I need to regulate my breathing, diet, stretch, read and go gently on myself. I am mitigating anxiety ALL the time, horrid thoughts and memories surface regularly so I acknowledge them and hope they do one. I would say I have two to three brief dissociative episodes a month. The specialist support I have at the moment is helping to regulate and reprogramme and if you want to know what I think and feel, you could do worse than read The Body Keeps the Score. Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk.

I left teaching full time because I could not manage my health and the work’s full-time demands and I have crafted a life of books, teaching and mentoring in which I can make spaces and have some flexibility and still earn. I have been extremely stretched these last few years because of a loved one not receiving care and that has been a difficult path: you’re dealing with the pain of someone you love hand in hand with lack of resources and lack of will. Sometimes with a lack of kindness.

But I will tell you another thing.

Because I’ve seen the darkness and can never, I do not think, be as scared and lonely as the kid-Anna, I will press on. In 2016 I turned rage into my first book and I haven’t stopped. This is just me; how I am evolving, it’s not better than anything you do. Ten books, seven years, I have built a business, kept a hand in teaching, developed my creative writing teaching. I have written across genres and forms and in my books I was developing the line of enquiry – imagination, trauma, magical realism, reading, nature – that will form the basis of the PhD by Published Works I start later this year.

Mainly, though, I am amazed that I am still here.

So, if you meet someone who mocks, sensationalises or cultivates a prurient interest in mental health problems and mental illness – I tend to draw a distinction, with the latter being more serious than the former, but it’s not without problems – know their ignorance. They know few facts and a lot of fear; they pass it on and it does damage. That’s what tabloids do in this country. THAT is shameful. It drives need underground and seals up routes to getting better.

You’re not weak. You are surviving as best you can with all the resources you have. I see you and hold you in my heart. I always feel like I am in transition or living at the edges of something – hence the liminal in the title – and I think that’s because of what’s happened to me and what I manage. I am not scared, though, to propel myself into the centre – to work and do and be and say, here I am. HERE. So please remember to go out into the world, broken as you are, and remember that broken things are beautiful too.

x

On Imposter syndrome – writing and publishing. A short, bolstering post

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

Now, many people feel this: writing, not to mention actually publishing your work, feels like it’s something for folks known as OTHERS. You know; the other people, for whom this is all a breeze; the people who have their stuff together and who know so much more than you. They’re better read, more connected, more clever, more everything and OBVIOUSLY better writers.

There are deep and uncomfortable reasons why you – we! – may feel this way, but I said short and bolstering, so here we go. First it is common to feel this way. Then, I suspect it is part of the human condition to feel like an outsider and it can feel scary – get in, or you will be eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger – to be on the outside of something. So learn to accept these feelings and breathe through them. Then, know that doubt about your role, life and, to stay on topic, writing, are natural. Doubt is a function of intellect because you are examining what you are doing. I’d argue it makes you a better writer. It’s also part of self-reflection, of being self-aware and, frankly, of empathy.

DO YOU KNOW WHO CAUSES ALL THE PROBLEMS INCLUDING IN PUBLISHING AND THE WRITING COMMUNITY?

Yes, it’s the arrogant twats. The people who feel like they have it all together and know what they are doing, impervious to change, prompt from others and, frankly, worse at their work for this and frequently damaging. It’s true in all walks of life, I would argue.

Fortunately, my darling, you are not an arrogant twat. Look at you there with your impostery hotness.

Plough on, tell people you feel this way, know that it is natural and, most importantly, do not let it chew you up so you cannot write. Doubt, gone a long way, can eviscerate your sense of self, of vocation. It makes dust of your creativity, so keep an eye on it and don’t let it go so far. Write through it, talk about it, talk back to it and here is a glittering merit sticker for a job well done.

Claim your spot. Yes, there is clearly work to be done in the publishing industy, but there is room for you.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, hopes and dreams, building and some frank admissions

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

Coming for 2023,

On the 6th of March, the Italian publication of 2020’s novel, Saving Lucia. Title and cover reveal in the new year, plus details of the April Italian tour, beginning in Milan. This is the UK edition, with Bluemoose books. Still time to read. Then 8tto Edizione

Then on 31st March, my memoir comes out. Trauma, survival and the imagination, kid up, explored over twelve essays on the natural world. Reflex Press.

On the 27th of September, my new novel, The Zebra and Lord Jones, is out with Renard Press as UK and Commonwealth (excluding Canada) edition. Plenty of news to come in the new year and this is currently on US submission.

Then, on the 25th of October, my first book on writing, The Alchemy is out – also awaiting cover. This is very specifically about gentle productivity and writing your book in less than ideal circumstances. This book was recently acquired, like The Zebra and Lord Jones, by Renard Press.

Through the year, you have various pieces of work from me – such as my Mslexia column!

On January 10th, join me here!

Also, in the new year, if you fancy joining me – and the fab team – come and work on your novel for a year; applications open in early 2023 and the new course starts in March. Image below is for the one I am currently teaching on.

On 1st of January, the Curae Prize opens for first submissions. This is a new literary award I have set up, with brilliant support from people across the publishing industry, for writer and would-be writer-carers.

Key dates:

Opens to subs:

1/01

Subs close

1/03

Shortlist

1/05

Two winners announced

1/06

https://thecuraeprize.uk/

THE CURAE PRIZE

A writing prize – just for writers who are also carers

It is my dream that I go on to build out from this – educational platforms and opportunities for young carers – and, ideally, for carers around the world. We have to see how well this first year goes first!

As to my hopes and dreams? I truly think, eight books published in seven years – by the end of 2023 and one in translation, plus two major columns and over forty features – well…I truly think that if I were going to be a star from my writing and have a big profile, I would have done it with this ouput. I was very sad about this, but then I reminded myself that, in order, I am teacher, reader, writer.

And before all of that, mum.

As to my hopes and dreams? I truly think, eight books published in seven years – by the end of 2023 and one in translation, plus two major columns and over forty features – well…I truly think that if I were going to be a star from my writing and have a big profile, I would have done it with this ouput. I was very sad about this, but then I reminded myself that, in order, I am teacher, reader, writer.

And before all of that, mum.

Things looked very different! I felt much more optimistic and began seeing possibilities.

There are additional needs within my family and it has become clearer to me that focus needs to adjust and I will need to be hands on and flexible, perhaps permanently. We have had no additional support and have been through significant trauma over a long period owing to this. To be frank, I have to plan and to anticipate and there are too many fluid, unpredictable bits in publishing for someone who has additional demands plus a day job – and I also manage chronic illness. I am sure you get the picture. So I am working sideways, instead. It took me months to recover from a novel being comprehensively ghosted by editors. I had not understood that ghosting – a practice of which I disapprove – went on beyond the query stage. Seeing this in action has made me reappraise my approach, partly because I do not have the bandwidth for it. I have so many ideas; so many books I want to write, but the issue is not the writing, but where I meet industry. Thus, while I have a number of books out in 2023, my focus going forward and beyond is teaching and the Curae. With the exception of sending a book of essays out on query in mid February! And unless I get a nice US deal, or someone wants to make a film – or anything which is a big splash in that way. I will be talking about moving sideways and the portfolio concept; being nimble and flexible. I aim to connect it both to The Alchemy and to the Curae. I aim to put in place for others what I needed.

With much love to you all,

Come and find me here: https://twitter.com/BookwormVaught

https://www.instagram.com/bookwormvaught6/

In the new year, you will be able to find me and mine on Booktok too.

Anna x

For you. If you want to write and get it published; if you are tired, unwell, stretched or broken-hearted. This is for YOU

by Anna Vaught, posted in Uncategorized

I took a long time to be published; by that I mean, I took a long time to start writing. I didn’t have the confidence. Now I have, it’s like a torrent. I am six years in. When the occasional person decides to be a bit snarky about the seven books I have written in that time, I tend to explain that they were in my head for decades and that’s why everything is as it is now. My bravehearts, do your own thing; believe in your work first and foremost and do not apologise for the way in which you work, whether it be ‘too fast’ or ‘too slow’. Here is my first bit of love for you all and it is about productivity – but perhaps not in the way you might expect. Also, being gentle on yourself and always working with what you have.

So, let’s go on this adventure together. For a start, you work with what you have. That is, it’s lovely to have an office or a dedicated room, but if circumstances demand that you write at your kitchen table, or on your lap wherever you are, so be it. If you wait for those perfect circumstances, you will never start, so yes: always go with what you have. I write at the kitchen table and am frequently interrupted. I go with it and use headphones for busy times. Remember that genius exists in the finest library, but also at a scruffy kitchen table. Also, if you think you must assemble ideal conditions – that is, ideal emotional or psychological conditions – before you write or continue writing, then I do believe that is deferring your creativity to fate. You may feel down, sad or that heavy weight of grief that comes after the first pains which you think will kill you. My darlings, I am so, so sorry. But you know, you can write in rage and sadness, too. Maybe not yet, but you will. Sometimes, little bits of story unfurl within the sad story of you and yours; cling to them, because they are still there and precious. Think I don’t know? I am writing this now, to you: after a second very broken night, this little story unfurled while I was on the phone to care providers and emergency staff because I have a very unwell eldest. I find it heartbreaking sometimes and after years it seems a solution is not within our grasp, but within those feelings, I try to draw something else out. Today, this morning, so tired, it was for you. Take it.

It may seem that, with difficulties in our daily life, for those we care for or, or with ourselves, we cannot create, but that is not so. Here is more about me: I manage several long-standing mental health problems and I have been recovering from Long Covid (I think we are getting to know each a bit better, right?) – and I am not writing from a position of privilege, telling you sweet things. I am aiming to comfort you, so that you might follow a dream and, hopefully, get paid for it, too – but we will come back to the latter.

What about the adage of writing every day? That real writers write every day. Well lovely if this is you, but it cannot be everyone. I cannot do it. If you are poorly or managing any combination of circumstances, or just because it doesn’t work for you, then you cannot do it. This does not mean you cannot produce a book. Again, go with what is available to you because, again, if you think it is only possible with (perceived) ideal circumstances, then you may never get started or find your progress is stymied because you are feeling anxiety about your lack. Look, instead, at what there is. Thought. Cogitation. Reading. Listening. Man, you’ve been busy. So, you may not have committed words to the page, but a process is still ongoing. Pondering is the writing, too. Don’t forget that now. (I dedicate this last sentence to my fantastic agent who had to remind me about this and specifically in the context of pondering the plot. Ahem.)

This point follows on from the last. You may not write every day – as in get words down on a page – but try to inhabit the world of your book. What might that mean? Perhaps, that you mull over its characters and plot, read, think about it all on your commute, go for a walk and just let it sit and let your mind freewheel and see what springs up; that you keep reading; that you look over edits – your own or someone else’s – and maybe you could do bits of admin if the urge is that strong. Do your page numbers, check SPAG or write an acknowledgements page: these things can be lovely little boosts and make you feel your book is evolving into an actual THING. Think of the work and the writing as not only being the writing down, but also of the rumination while you are having a bath, or resting, say. If you do that, you may find your attitude to it shifts and you realise you’re further along than you thought.

A little exercise to do right now. If you don’t have a dream…Grab anything (if it were me, it would be a not very fancy exercise book and a felt pen, I expect). Now, scribble down in any way it comes to you some thoughts about the kind of book you want to write. What would it explore? What themes are in it? Where is it? Not what you think you ought to be writing, but what you dream of doing because you need to test it on your pulse. It must make you feel excited. That will focus the mind. You could also think about what your dream is in publishing: again, consider what you really want. Shall I tell you mine? It’s to write books that you can see in bookshops, have at least one of them made into a film and empower as many people as I possibly can along the way. That’s what this book is. I also want primarily to be a novelist, but with other short fiction, features, and non-fiction texts. To build a portfolio of varied books. In terms of industry, I want to be with industry professionals who are supportive, open and flexible. Over six years this has not consistently been the case and, with my everyday concerns, I found it startling and then eviscerating. We will return to looking after and working with this side of things  later as it is all part of the picture.

BUT

Most of all I am going to get totally lost in what I am writing – and we are back to testing on your pulse. This is where everything starts.
I have a second exercise too. I said, work with what you have. Well, what do you have and how can you make it better for yourself? Never mind the conditions in which you think you ought to be writing; never mind what you have surmised everyone else is doing. Where can you work, how can you make it a nicer environment for you – which includes things that are soothing if you are prone to anxiety or those troubling MY WORD MY WRITING IS SHIT WHO AM I KIDDING thoughts which may bubble up as you work. I have essential oils and fake peonies in a vase and music to the rescue on the kitchen table or a desk in my bedroom. Think also about you: reflect on your assets, your reading, life experience, the way you see the world, your dialect, accent, phrases specific to you: all that richness and beauty that you are. Think about where you have been – yes, even if it was in your imagination – your sufferings and joys and know that with all the stories and the myriad experiences you have, you are extraordinary. And don’t tell me you are ordinary, because no-one is that, especially not you. In reflecting honestly on what you have, your vision becomes clearer, I think. Your vision of who and what you are as a writer; if you can feel reassured that you don’t need the glittering education, (readers, I went to Cambridge, albeit from a not very good comprehensive and was sure that everyone there had had a better previous education than me and I still met lots of people – forgive me – who were exam-smart but dumb as soup),or  the MA or MFA (although there are many lovely reasons for doing one). I do not have a room of my own, but I have a table I gussy up and earplugs. And I know who I am. I have found my voice. I hope you can hear it speaking to you as I encourage you or remind you to find yours.