Oan Scottishness and puddin – Blogmas Day 10
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As the year comes tae a close, ah’m takin stock o another busy year as a scriver - and Scottishness and puddin.
If ye’d telt me a year ago ah’d huv a bairns’ book oot by next Christmas, ah’d huv been awfae surprised but happy nanetheless. The Hoolet Thit Couldnae Fly hus been the muckle achievement o the year - and ah’m pleased tae say it’s the hopeful stairt o a series fae me and Luath Press; in fact, ah ken the title o the next buik awready!
Twinty-twinty-three gat aff tae an interestin stairt wi articles aboot the leid, hoat oan the heels o a jubilant twinty-twinty-twa, where ah wis lucky enough tae win Scots Book o the Year and be shortlisted fur the Saltire Award wi ma debut novel, Be guid tae yer Mammy, and get ma first traditional publishin deal wi The Tongue She Speaks.
Aw this combined saw me asked tae speak in favour o Scottish Independence at the Cambridge Union. Ah’d no spoken aboot politics until then, at least no as a published author, and despite ma social anxiety, ah somehoo managed tae come oot oan the winnin side. It wis a real boost tae ma confidence and helped me tae see masel as an active Scots Language activist.
Plans wur then set in motion at the London Book Fair fur the almichty ‘Whit’s next?’ and a month later ah’d the pleasure o appearin at Aye Write fur a second time - sadly ower Zoom because the auld Rhona finally gat me.
Efter a bit o a false stairt finishin ma third novel, Cathy, get yer Dancin Shoes oan, ah spent a week at Monaick Mhor in the Scottish Highlands, where ah scrived The Hoolet Thit Couldnae Fly. It wis awfae nice tae write a first draft in Scotland as somewan who spent hur entire twinities flittin atween Scotland, England and Ireland!
Followin a thumbs up fae Luath in July, wurk began oan gettin the buik ready in time fur Christmas - and ah wis able tae appear at the Edinburgh Book Festival fur the first time this summer an aw. It was braw tae discuss The Tongue She Speaks alangside fella Luath Press author Catriona Child and reflect oan hoo much music, at least fur some, is an essential part o their Scottishness, as she explored an aw in Fade Into You. Ah’m jist a wee bit sad that ah never gat tae experience T in the Park fur masel.
As ah luik back oan the year, and ma writin as a whole, ah’m awfae grateful tae ma Scottishness, especially as ah begin the hopeful final push tae finish Cathy, get yer Dancin Shoes oan early next year. Ah dinnae fink ah’d huv gat this far wioot a niche, even if it comes at the cost o knowin ma buiks - at least in Scots - will always huv a limited audience. But that’s no really a bad fing, takin the unlikeliness o this ever bein a full time joab oot the equation. Ah telt ma stories the way they should o always been told. The best bit o advice any artist kin get is write fur yersel first. If other folk like it, that’s a bonus.
Ah fink ah’ve always appreciated ma Scottishness. Mibbie it started when ah left hame fur the first time, back when ah wis jist a bairn in 2002. Ah went tae America fur a few month, and nought makes ye appreciate hame mair than bein away fae it. It wis the same when ah moved tae Ireland, tae Dublin, and stairted scrivin entirely in Scots fur the first time, drunken poems aside. It’s also why ah fink indigenous languages like Scots are so important - they connect aw speakers, regardless o whether yer in yer hameland, a learner, or a taken elsewhere by life.
But as we aw know, national identity is aboot mair than jist language, and that’s sommat ah hope tae get across in ma buiks an aw, whether it’s tablet in The Tongue She Speaks or haggis, neeps and tatties in Be guid tae yer Mammy. Speakin o tablet, ah went back tae makin it fur the first time in whit ah believe tae be years recently, and it’s jist funny hoo ye dinnae furget some fings - the taste, the texture, and knowin that the art o it aw somehoo lay in the boilin.
The next challenge in the cookin department, as somewan who hilariously made a vegan, gluten-free haggis fae scratch wan year in London is clootie dumplin. That’s the braw fing aboot languages - and puddin. That would make nae sense ootside o Scotland and is an awfae grand example o hoo the Scots lied is a language in its ain richt. It’ll probably be an almichty fail, but ah’ll mibbie feel a totie bit closer tae hame as a result - and that’s worth a kitchen explosion any day o the week.
Oh aye, and in case yer wonderin, clootie means made o cloth and that’s hoo the dumplin, much like a mair traditional Christmas puddin, is cooked. Willie-waught optional.
Emma Grae