Turning Over a New Leaf
Welcome to Spinetingling, the home of shameless shelf-promotion. Where I promise to be an open book.
In the 1500s, pages were referred to as ‘leaves’ and the idiom, ‘turning over a new leaf’ meant to turn to a blank page. The phrase, still in use today, would come to mean a fresh start, a ‘blank slate’ of sorts. There seems no better time as we enter the second quarter of this new century (and millennium) to begin at the beginning (always best with respect to books.) In the next fortnight, yet another orbit around the sun nears for me which is a prime time to reflect upon forging ahead with new and renewed focus, determination and zest.
I preface this introduction to Spinetingling by sharing that I was the youngest in a family of six children and reading, for me, was always a private escape from a noisy, chaotic household. As a kid, every school report card I received declared, “Nancy is a daydreamer.” Since turning 50 some years ago, I’ve come to learn I was a child with what would now be diagnosed as Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD.) Gazing out the classroom window meant I could focus upon the much more enticing worlds within my busy brain. Each book I read became rich fodder for my ever expanding imagination.
For some time now, I’ve been pondering how to commit to more consistent and regular writing here. Besides writing the book I’m currently penning, something I’ve always dreamed about is hosting a book-related endeavour to connect with other lovers of the written word where I might share book reviews and recommendations, interviews with authors and writers, whether well-established or ‘wanna-be’, tap into the insights of experts in the publishing and writing realm, and celebrate indie bookstores, lit fests, and the wonderful, book-loving folks who run them.
In my early 40s, after a decade of neglecting my inner artist, a friend encouraged me to pick up a camera again. I was invited to partake of a “365 Days” Selfie project (of all things) on the photography app, Flickr. Needless to say, as a fairly new single mom, I was too exhausted to excel at the project. My daily selfies were often lazily framed at end of day in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my teeth, longing for bed.
On the odd occasion, I stirred the embers of my core creative spark toward a handful of images. This one (below) took a bit of setting up. With my tripod at the ready, I pulled stacks of books from my shelves. I look at this photograph now and see that I was trying to communicate something integral to who I am, something of my spirit. My bookish being. This photograph practically shouts, “I am a reader. A seannachaí. I am enamoured of story. I’m a nerd! A veritable bookworm!” I love that I (literally and figuratively) envisioned myself in this way when I was beginning to reconnect with my artistic self, someone I’d neglected so long whose hand I finally took hold of via another kind of storytelling (visual art.)
Just over a year ago, I joined Substack at Nancy’s Darkroom, home to a hodgepodge of my random thoughts on anything and everything: time, culture, climate and environment with special focus (no pun intended) upon my photography. (Many of you may already know I hold an MA in Documentary Photography and Photojournalism.) I intend to keep the red light on in my darkroom and continue to develop the occasional post there on photography and life, in general.
Now living in Canada’s Maritimes, I am presently six months into a two-year creative writing MFA pursuit and am keen to focus on my lifelong love of the written word. Think of Spinetingling as my Subtack library for posts and thoughts related more specifically to writing, reading, and all things bibliophilia.
As I type this, it seems I’ve almost come full circle. Over the decades, the qualities I was often shamed for possessing as a child have emerged as my strengths. I recall my twenty-something self pursuing that Honours BA in English Literature. I’m not sure I really dreamed then that I’d pursue writing at the post-graduate level, have my words published, never mind begin to write a book in the hopes it may land upon the shelves of bookstores and people’s private and local libraries.
While penning this initial post, my eyes travel the spines that line my shelves: books I’ve long loved with their well-worn (some even torn) covers. All the favourite passages of these tried and true friends I can almost recite from memory. Alongside them are books I purchased in great anticipation, but have yet to open. I relish the chance to share my experience of them here.
Within this new Substack space, I consider, too, my own spine: the brave steps taken to survive and navigate the long and wayward path I’ve made back to self-expression and the literary realm. (Reading was my first love in childhood, after my toy polar bear.) I can attest it’s not been easy to summon the courage to take a leap of faith in myself and now my writing via this MFA pursuit. Especially at my current midlife stage, though I know my younger self is beaming. I picture her so clearly, curled in the corner of a sofa, under a tree, or snuggled in bed, hungrily devouring the words, lives, and worlds of characters she imagined herself to be or befriend.
Despite the word’s more common connotations, Spinetingling will not (solely) focus on horror, true crime or the gothic novel. Those genres will no doubt pop up on occasion. (I am about to finally open Kay Chronister’s The Bog Wife. Part reseach for my own book which I’ll touch on in a future post, and part holiday leisure. It was a recent gift under our Yule tree and I love reading mystery, horror, and thrillers.) Certain books inspire awe and I’m a huge advocate of carving space for awe. By virtue of its definition, awe always includes a tiny kernel of fear.
Spinetingling refers instead to the ‘spines’ that live on our bookshelves, in stacks on the floor of our bedrooms and closets, within our hippocampi, local libraries and independent bookstores—the books, anthologies, and collections of essays, short stories, or poems that evoke that incomporable emotion, that luminous enchantment that comes over us when we first turn over a new leaf. Inhale. Ah! That inviting new book smell (or even the musty fragrance of an old book that is new to its reader.)
As I begin this new venture, I ask for your patience with me over the first year or so while I simultaneously complete my degree (and am well on my way to completing my book.) This is the spot to grab a cuppa, curl up on the couch and come share in my love of reading and writing, meet other bibliophiles I’m excited to interview, and celebrate the written word via literary events, workshops, gatherings and festivals. A bonus feature: as I pursue my writing MFA, I’ll confide my own personal insights and jouney into the process of writing (and hopefully one day publishing) my first book and whatever follows.
I’m thrilled to discover which spines set you (and me) tingling this year and beyond. For now, happy new year and happy reading!