Thursday 18 July 2019

Very little Progress

One of the problems of being a new writer is that you have no idea how long things are going to take. Or, as I have discovered, how many things there are to do. Every time I achieve something I realise that my to-do list has grown. I am slowly making progress. So here I am months after I thought Death of a Pilgrim would be up for sale; it still has a long way to go. I am making some progress, but I have to admit that I spend a lot of time feeling frustrated and working really hard with apparently little result.

So onto the positive stuff, The Chalice has been revised and edited because I have decided that there will be a paperback edition. This has a new cover again to match the paperback and will now be called the 'The Silver Chalice'. It’s not quite ready yet but will be very soon.

I have created an email list, so if you want to be the first to know when things are published, please join. There is a button both on the Blog and on the Facebook page for doing that.

I have sent off two new poems and a story for this year's good life in Galicia competition. The book which is an anthology of fiction non-fiction and poetry about Galicia is also available, and if you want to know what it’s like to live here, it makes a good read.


This is my poem which appears in the book it’s called the longing. Galician people have often had to emigrate in order to survive because Galicia although very beautiful is not wealthy. In the Galician language, there is a special word for the homesickness that you get when you are forced to live away from Galicia.

The Longing

It rises like the dew on grass in a morning.

It comes like a glimpse of mountains through the mist.

And when I see a certain shade of green along a valley

My Galicia, I am longing for the home I miss…...


Sometimes it’s the sight of seafood on a griddle,

or the ozone when the ocean touches shore.

But when I look, it’s beyond the infinite horizon.

My Galician home, the place I’m longing for.



One day when I smelt wood-smoke in the autumn,

and found some houses made of stone.

I saw a road that wound through forest.

I thought for one brief moment….. thought that road might lead me home.


Today beside a grapevine on a hillside,

I’m drinking wine that tastes of grass and sun.

and far, far below me is a river

and I know, that when that longing comes


No matter how good and rich my life is 

when I stand in a land, that’s not my own

My heart will hear the music of the bagpipes

my soul will sing the ancient songs of… Galicia my home.


On the subject of living here, if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to move here from the UK, then why not read this book by Craig Briggs. He has been here for seventeen years and writes beautifully about the ups and downs of life in Galicia. His books are available here.



2 comments:

  1. Wow! I think you need to rethink the title Abigail; you've made huge strides since your last blog post. All that hard working is certainly paying off. Congratulations.

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  2. I think your poem could be for anyone far from their home. It is a poignant reminder of things we all miss about our birthplaces. Good luck with The Chalice and I can't wait to read 'Pilgrim' in its entirety.

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