I never thought I would be able to be unemployed for any length of time. I am a doer. I like to be a part of ‘things’. But, people tell me, encouragingly, I am not unemployed, I write. But, as I sign on, I am technically unemployed. That knowledge lingers uncomfortably, at the back of my head (along with a scarcity of pennies). So, does writing provide me a veil of security, a rationale, an excuse? Does it pander to my lazy, insecure self?  Probably, for instance, I don’t hoover or wash the floor much. Or dig the garden. I prefer to work in bed than get up, wash, sit at a table and chair.  I only stop writing to get out of bed to walk the dog, swim, shop, cook. A writer…who re-writes, edits, checks face book, creates the odd poem. Call that a writer? I don’t know. I am suspicious. I hark back to the writers who came to visit us on the MA in Galway…yes yes yes, they said. But they had all been published. I have not, aside from a few poems.

When I finished the MA I gave myself until the end of 2013 to write. Then I would have to do something. I had a great year. I didn’t fret. I didn’t feel guilty. I wrote, entered competitions, started the blog, edited, read, ran a poetry workshop and danced as I walked. But 2014 has dawned. And it is as if I cast a spell on myself. Suddenly, the ease is gone. I am more unemployed than a writer.

So, I have to do something. It is winter. It is New Year. It is judgement time. I decided to self publish my novella on Amazon. The novella is about ageing. It seems appropriate. Yet there is still that slight stigma about self publishing. But, go for it, Kate, I thought. At least I will be able to stop worrying about it, and editing it. It will have to stand up for itself.

How to let people know? On the blog, I thought. Will I just send out a note…here is my novella. I didn’t like that idea, so I wrote a poem. I haven’t written a poem for over a month. I’m not sure it works, but it now belongs to Slainté, my novella, and so I must send them out into the world together.

Here goes:


Isn’t it strange when the colours in the world disappear?

They are there

They ruminate, reflect

but have no resonance.

At the moment the sky is empty,

the day is shaky, the night wakeful,

eventful. Every day

In my winter garden I look for

daisies and buttercups,

snow drops.

But it’s too early, grey

cold, wet and dreary.

So, what to do? I lament.

Maybe, I think,

I can create from my bed

where it’s safe, warm and cosy.

So in an amazon fighting spirit of

Do…Do… Do…

to reclaim colour, I have done;

I have self published on Amazon

A novella called Slainté

For you, for me,

for each other.

This is the link. I’d love you to check it out!


2 thoughts on “Publication!

  1. I’ve started to read your online novel, Kate. I take my hat off to you for publishing it yourself (I’m not sure if I’d have the balls to do that!). How is Jerry? If you ever need a bed in Dublin, please keep the Pollak/Ni Bhriains in Rathmines in mind. I’m retired now so am mainly in Dublin. Andy

    • Oh dear, I’m not sure about people reading Slaint! I hope you enjoy it. So far, two of my friends have told me that it made them cry!!! Not the intention. Thank you very much for getting in touch. It’s good to hear from you. We should actually arrange to meet. It would be great to catch up. I see you are in Cavan on 31st of Jan. I was going to suggest you come and stay, but I am in London!!! Do come up, both of you, we can walk, eat and drink, at our leisure. Jerry told me there are articles in the IT by a Sorcha Pollack…does this make you a proud father? all the bestKate

      > Date: Sat, 25 Jan 2014 12:24:23 +0000 > To: >

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s