“Just make it beautiful.”, I tell myself in the morning when I agonise over what to write next. When I’m stuck and unsure: paralysed.
“Just make it beautiful.”, I tell myself in the afternoon when I sit on the tram and obsess over all the things that are missing from my life.
“Just make it beautiful.”, I write on my skin in invisible ink, letting the mantra seep in.
With the first lighter days of the year, I find myself drawn to the beach to catch the sunrise. I attend a Reiki class one evening and dream of daisies that sprout out of my hair, out of my skin. I tie a red ribbon around a dry branch of a gorse bush and make a wish on Imbolc—the Celtic threshold between winter and spring, a quiet promise of renewal. The day belongs to Brigid, goddess of poetry, healing, and the forge. They say she walks the land on this night, leaving her blessings in the shape of early buds, of snowdrops and daffodils. I listen to Halcyon and On and On as I open the windows in the morning again, letting in the cold air, mixing with the scent of burning incense.
Halcyon – the name of a song, a state of mind, a fleeting season within a season. Somewhere between mid-December and mid-February. It traces back to the greek myth of Alcyone, the woman turned kingfisher, whose grief over her husband who died at sea was so great that the gods took pity, letting her glide over the water forever. They say that for seven days in the heart of winter, she calms the winds, stills the waves—halcyon days, a brief suspension of the storm.
In the midst of winter, you can find these pockets, these halcyon days where it seems like you can leave your scarf at home, where you suddenly smell the grass again, where the temperature lingers in that complicated phase of I don’t know how to dress for 11 degrees. Days of layers and constant movement.
It’s still cold around your neck when you’re rushing from one place to the other but if you find a bench to sit down, when you find stillness amidst the storms and let the sun warm your face, it is as David Lynch said: “When you slow things down, things become more beautiful.”
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Write your Essay Collection in 6 Months!
“Sophia's class is a breath of fresh air. The sessions are inspiring, nurturing and informative, and her advice is broad (and highly knowledgable) yet tailored to the individual and their specific writing goals. Her enthusiasm for her craft is infectious, and she genuinely wants to see us succeed with our writing. I highly recommend it!“
Lucy Siddall (currently enrolled in the autumn/winter essay writing class)
Write your Essay Collection in 6 Months!
In this creative writing workshop I will teach how to create beautiful, intricate essays with the aim to produce a collection at the end to submit to publishers.
Schreib deinen Essayband in 6 Monaten!
In diesem kreativen Schreibworkshop bringe ich dir bei wie man literarische Essays schreibt, die berühren mit dem Ziel am Ende eine Sammlung in der Hand zu haben, die man an einen Verlag schicken kann.
About your instructor:
Sophia Hembeck is a writer and visual artist based in Edinburgh. She has published two books of essays called: Things I Have Noticed, 2020 & Things I Have Loved, 2023 and currently working on her 3rd to conclude the Things-Trilogy. Her bestselling substack 'The Muse Letter' is published every month, where she wonders about the meanderings of life. She holds a M.A. in Playwriting (Szenisches Schreiben, UdK Berlin) and teaches creative writing classes since 2020. She is represented by Zoe Martin from JE Literary Agency in Berlin.