The Cusp of Change

As the western calendar year comes to a close, it’s a natural time to look back and reflect on the previous twelve months. It’s been a significant year for me on a personal level. I turned fifty early in the second quarter of 2023 – a significant event for anybody – and I successfully defended my PhD thesis early in November, which marked the culmination of a long process of research, writing and reflection that helped answer questions that have occupied my thoughts for many years: questions of place, of identity, of how the landscape shapes our lives. 

I have been able to explore these questions both creatively and academically, and the submission and accession of my thesis – comprised of a book-length work of creative nonfiction alongside a critical commentary – closes a significant period in my life whilst opening up another. The time spent working toward the PhD signifies a period of deep change and transition: from a former life as a helicopter pilot largely servicing the offshore oil and gas industry toward a new life that places my feet firmly on the ground, encompassing and embracing community and working in a way that is less certain but offers more freedom and is more in line with my values and the aspirations I have now.

This year has been one where I’ve seen hard work begin to pay off and a future direction begin to take shape, replacing the uncertainty that came with the end of a career and dominated my life as I embarked on doctoral study in the midst of a pandemic. It is a year that leaves me feeling hopeful and positive as I go forward, despite all the world-changing events that this same period has also been witness to. 

As a writer, I have seen some of my writing find a home with Stravaig, Hinterland nonfiction magazine and, this coming spring, one of the chapters from my PhD will be published in Archipelago, a literary journal I have long admired. I’m pleased that my approach to questions of place will also feature in an anthology of academic writing through the University of Eichstätt-Ingolstadt’s Practicing Place Centre, due for publication in 2024. I was also very happy to have had writing published in the Paperboats Zine, for which I took part in a launch event at the University of Stirling.

Beyond my own writing, in September I ran an outdoor creative writing workshop, helping people engage with their surroundings and fostering a sense of togetherness. Earlier in the year I became involved with the charity Open Book, running a pilot creative writing group over the spring and summer that has become an established, monthly group as part of Open Book’s Scotland-wide Community Project. Seeing people develop in confidence and find their own voice in a supportive group setting is something that is hugely rewarding and I look forward now to taking the group – just one of many Open Book groups across the country – into 2024.

As I head into the New Year I will also embark on a significant community engagement project, working in collaboration and consultation on commission to explore how people feel about where they live and documenting community story and memory. It’s a role I hope will expand and flourish through 2024 and beyond.

What can we do but go forward? Uncertainty and change will always run side by side with our lives. 2023 has shown me that, on a personal level at least, positive change is possible, and that, if change is needed, it is worth living with the uncertainty that comes with not knowing what the outcomes might be. Despite the fears, taking those first steps toward an uncertain future is important. The change that you walk toward, the change that you need, will find you.

Moving Forward

There’s a famous quote by Mark Twain. You know the one: 

“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you did not do than the things you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” 

This kept surfacing and resurfacing in my thoughts when, in 2017, I left my job to study anthropology and then creative writing. Six years on I have submitted my PhD thesis – a work of narrative nonfiction with commentary exploring how landscapes shape us, and what it might mean to belong. 

It’s not the PhD that counts, of course, but the journey to get there, for ‘it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive,’ as that other famous writer Robert Louis Stevenson told us. And it has been a journey – fraught with uncertainty and waymarked by personal crisis and self discovery. 

I’ve learned that we are many things, and that the narratives we write for ourselves can change unexpectedly – by both accident and design, and that who we thought we were is not set in stone, but a continual process of renewal and re-creation: a perpetual becoming framed by an evolving understanding. 

Places frame our lives – map out our histories and identities through the landscapes in which we live. The journey I’ve taken and the people I have spoken to have shown me that. We come to know self through place, through all the entanglements and histories that reach out into the wider world. 

I still face uncertainty and there will continue to be change: both driven and unexpected. I guess learning to embrace those things in life is part of what Mark Twain was getting at.