Members' News January

 Welcome to the first round-up of Scattered Authors news of 2026 and congratulations to everyone with a book out this month. Wishing us all a happy and successful year. 

This month is the annual writing retreat at Folly Farm in Somerset where are group of scattered authors are looking forward to getting together to eat drink, write and be merry. The zoom spotlight sessions will also be running, quarterly this year. Look out for details.

New Books

A reminder from the December round-up that Jane Wickenden has seven stories in this intriguing and beautiful volume, Myths in Isolation, from Orkneyology Press, with the artwork of Katherine Soutar. The book is now available to buy. You can find full details and buy a copy here

Moira Butterfield has a new book out on January 8th. "It's called Star, Moon, Zoom. It's a playful look at space for 4-8 year olds, illustrated by Spanish artist Ro Ledesmo. The published - Happy Yak (Quarto) - let me do what I liked with the layouts so I had lots of fun with it."

https://www.quarto.com/books/9781836002130/star-moon-zoom

Paula Harrison has a book out on  the 15th January. It’s the first in a new series called Animagicals published by Nosy Crow. The first book is Mia’s Tiger and it’s illustrated by Erwin Madrid. 

https://nosycrow.com/product/animagicals-mias-tiger/

Animagicals are children born with the power to change into an animal. They can change into any animal and they need help controlling their ability until they find their true form – the animal they are destined to be. Will they fly like an eagle, leap like a leopard or skulk like a fox? Come and join them at Wildhaven, a magical school set up to protect and train animagicals in a magical forest hidden from the ordinary world.

If you have any news you'd like publicised - new book, an award, an event, send the details to Claire Fayers

Carnegie Extras by Paul May

I've spent some time this last year compiling all those Carnegie posts I wrote for this blog into a book. It looks like this. That's the only copy, right there!

As well as a little bit about every winner of the Carnegie Medal up until 2024 the book contains drawings of more than 20 of the authors by my daughter, Emily May. I made the book mainly for me and it's been fun doing it. There may be only one real book in existence right now, but the whole thing is available from me, FOR FREE, as a PDF. If you head over to my blog/website As In The Long Ago and leave a message there, along with your email, I'll send you the PDF. Real books may also be available eventually, but only if enough people are interested to make it viable. Please contact me as above if you're interested.

A very happy new year to everyone!

Hope by Emily Dickinson - Joan Lennon

Hope

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

(Poetry Foundation)

It's a new year. Here's to hope.

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND GOOD WISHES FOR 2026 by Penny Dolan

January 1st 2026.

New Year has always carried a strange aura. As a child, I sensed a thread of wistful melancholy running through all the glitter and jollity, and for decades the opening notes of ‘Old Land Syne’ brought me to ugly tears. Why and when, I wonder, did that stop? And yet it did.

I do still love that magical, illusory sense of pause as the year ends. I am caught by the odd trick of the empty calendar, the unmarked pages of one's new diary or journal. For a moment - and oh-so-very-lucky me, I know – there’s a sense of peace and opportunity and hope out there in the clear days ahead. I hope the new year will be good to you too.

Meanwhile, back to the post I originally wrote for today . . .

Choices, choices.

This coming Saturday - January 3rd - groups of Young Farmers will drive around our streets, collecting up unwanted Christmas trees. The trees, stripped and bare, are cast out of their homes the night before. They loll, unwanted, against hedges and gate-posts, like New Year revellers that never quite made it home.

Early that morning, the Young Farmer’s truck and trailer will come rumbling down the cul-de sac. A group of sturdy, still-almost-young men will stride alongside, throwing the flailing trees into the back of the giant trailer in the manner of legendary giants. The trees are crushed and stacked together by a couple of bolder Young Farmers, standing heroically upright in the trailer. In they come, the YF, and  off they go, taking all the discarded trees off to be shredded and used for animal bedding or something equally rural and useful.

The YF are doing a good thing. The unwanted Christmas trees raise money: people make a donation for every tree collected, with the funds split between the Young Farmer’s Association own support services and a large local Hospice. All of this is good and noble, and all is well,

But oh, something in me rebels against that morning. January 3rd? Why do the Young Farmer’s chose such an early date? (I know, I know.)

I recently saw a social media boast about ‘took my tree down on Boxing Day’ and it seemed so untimely to me. So very careless of custom and tradition, which I like to believe, is not necessarily the same as the huge marketing pushes that start around October. Perhaps their tree went up on November 6th?

From my ancient lady point of view, we should not be taking our Christmas trees down so swiftly. Trees disappeared late on 5th January, known as Twelfth Night, the eve before 6th January, the Epiphany or 'Three Kings' Day, when the Infant was shown to the world. You could keep those emptying branches glittering away until 2nd February, Candlemas, and the end of the Christmas season. 

So The Young Farmers are coming, for me, much too early! I am stuck here, pondering. The third or not the third?

I do love our Christmas tree and don’t want it to depart. Do I give in to rough convenience, strip the branches of light and glitter, and shove the poor thing out into the cold and dark, like a feeble Hans Christian Andersen story extra?

Or should My Tree stand dressed and lovely, with all its lights shining brightly, with me alongside, resolutely drinking my morning coffee as the tumbrils go by. Tonight, that scene, that version is where my heart is. I can make the charity donation anyway.

However, somewhere, I hear a small, practical voice, whispering firmly about how extremely well pine needles embed themselves into car upholstery . .

Choices, choices!

Penny Dolan

PS. The 'tree' piece above was inspired, at quite an angle, by the following:
‘The photograph of the past changes with time and yet it remains the same, In other words, a tree is a tree until you know how or when it was planted or by whom. Once you know then it is no longer a tree. It is symbolic. It is a series of stories. It has a truth.’ Lemn Sissay.

Quoted in ‘Write It All Down: How to put your life on the page’ by Cathy Rentsenbrink.

Bringing my dead dad home for Christmas

This will be the first year in a long time that I haven't had to drive down to Plymouth on Christmas day to cook my father's Christmas dinner - or like last year, visit him in the care home to chat to him while he ate his. I moaned about making this trip every year. It nearly always poured with rain and the motorway journey was a nightmare. Also, my father had no idea about cooking, which meant taking everything with me. Literally everything. Turkey, veg, even the cooking oil, seasoning and roasting tins.

His contribution was to insist he'd already bought the potatoes, so there was no need to bring any. The family called it #potatogate. A maximum of three potatoes in a bag (if we were lucky), usually already sprouting. Basically, enough for him. It happened every year.

Despite all this, I'll miss #potatogate. I'll even miss that journey.

He died in January this year. The day he died, the family raced down in the worst of weather to see him. The rain was apocalyptic and the motorway was partly flooded, and I could almost feel my dad calling to us in the howling wind. He was a very cautious man. He would definitely have told us to turn back.

 He was already dead, but I wanted to see him anyway. One last time. Entering his room, he looked almost cheerful lying on his bed, wearing his best blue stripy pyjamas. At that precise moment, the rain stopped, clouds parted and a shaft of sunlight poured onto on his face through the open window. (There were reasons the care home had the window open, which I won't go into - but in the sunlight it felt like his exit route out, free at last.)

Since his funeral, his ashes have been stored at the funeral home. They sent me a letter this month, reminding me he was there, and letting me know his free storage time was nearly up. 

What do you do with ashes? He hadn't made any requests himself, mostly because he thought he was immortal. Towards the end in the care home, he'd even asked me to get a refund on his funeral plan as he didn't need it. Fortunately his failing memory meant he didn't follow up on that one, but it was just as well he'd mentioned it, as I'd no idea he even had one. The plan covered the funeral, but said nothing about what he wanted done with his ashes.

While the family decides (I favour scattering them where he dumped his last wife's), I'm thinking of driving down to collect him in time for Christmas. I even wondered about taking him to my daughter's place for Christmas dinner (I haven't told her, so probably best leave him outside in the car). I might even take him to his favourite beach before we start the journey. 

I recognise this is more for me than for him. He wasn't a sentimental man at all and probably couldn't care less. He kept my mother in the wardrobe for months. 

I often wonder if he told his next girlfriend she was in there... 

Anyway, if you're stuck with difficult journeys and annoying relatives this festive season, remember no one lasts forever, and one day you might even miss them. 

Whatever you're doing, I wish you all a merry Christmas.

Lu Hersey

"76 ways to make Christmas simple" by Steve Way

 It’s that time of year when magazines become full of articles such as, "76 Ways to make Christmas Simple" for which the title effortlessly and completely negates the premise behind the piece.

I was wondering if there could be titles for any other books or articles that would also undermine them in a similar fashion. I’ve had a few ideas and would love to see yours – maybe including real titles you know of already! Back in the day, I remember a series with the linked “Made simple” title, such as “Quantum Physics made simple”, which seemed to give away their failure to live up to their promise by all being roughly as long as “War and Peace”.

How about…

“The Bumper Book of positive things to say about politicians”

(This edition actually comes with pages!)

~~~~~

“A million and one bleedin’ obvious reasons why FIFA shouldn’t award a Peace Prize”

People who were daft enough to buy this also bought “My zero most reliable statements about resolving conflict” by Neville Chamberlain. (This edition soon to be updated with added contributions unfortunately.)

~~~~~

For football lovers (perhaps…)

“1001 ways of possibly understanding the offside rule and it’s reliable execution by referees”

(Can be paired with, “4 million ways of actually caring”.)

~~~~~

For younger readers…

“204 reasons why we love going to school and doing homework!”

~~~~~

In the fantasy section…

“400 ways to avoid having your latest manuscript rejected”

Useful to purchase with, “50 ways not to be completely devastated and demoralised.”

~~~~~

And as it’s coming up to Christmas…

“-6 ways of avoiding your in-laws for Christmas”*

*We didn’t think we’d be able to reach that high a number!

~~~~~

Happy Christmas everyone – I hope you enjoy it in a variety of ways!

Mullets, by Nick Sharratt, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart

 

    If you, or a small person you know enjoy the completely daft, then this wonderful picture book is for you.

    'Lets spend a whiles

    on Mullet Isle.

    Everyone there

    has SPECIAL hair!'

They all, people, cats, frogs, sharks, even bumble bees have mullet hair styles, and we're given a guide so that we, too, can become expert in spotting the iconic 1970s mullet hairstyle.

All fun and good, but how is Nick Sharratt going to conclude this fun in a satisfying way? I'm not going to tell you because it would spoil things for you, but I can promise you not one, but two, final spreads which both deliver laugh out loud surprises!