Hello from Brighton, UK, the place my husband and I have been calling home since mid-August while he completes a work project here for a few months. I've fallen in love with this weathered, bohemian seaside town. It's equal parts gritty, cozy and elegant … it’s surprisingly sun drenched … and I love hearing seagulls no matter the time of day.
Brighton, on the southeast coast of England, has a storied and somewhat unconventional reputation. It became a popular place for Londoners to vacation during the Georgian Era when King George IV used to vacation here, allegedly to meet his various mistresses. He built a big gaudy Pavillion in the middle of the town to use for entertainment purposes — it still stands, and it’s quite something — and everybody partied here until the wee hours of the morning. The spirit of hedonism is still very present in Brighton.
In the last few decades Brighton has also become the unofficial LGBTQ capital of England, and the inclusive atmosphere permeates throughout the city in so many ways. People are friendly and open minded, and one gets the sense that anything goes. (Our first week here, an Anglican priest in full garb told me himself that “there’s no such thing as normal" in Brighton. As someone who has never looked “normal” I was quite pleased to hear this.) It’s also been voted the happiest place in the UK, and because of the proximity to the ocean it never gets too cold, and the sun is often shining. BRIGHTon lives up to its name.
Brightonians are artfully dressed and I’ve been told that our neighborhood is called Muesli Mountain because it’s populated by wealthy hippies. Brighton is also home to some of the kindest people I’ve ever met, from the teenage lads at the pool hall who noticed that I was having trouble with a door, to our gruff local bartender who never says much but always insists on carrying my beverage to my seat, and the owner of the corner store who has helped me open several jam jars.
When Paul asked me if I'd be willing to be in the UK for a few months I've never said yes to something so quickly (besides his proposal of marriage!). I am soaking up all the newness and novelty after the last few years, which have been a necessary time of stillness as I've worked on my memoir and put down extensive professional roots in North Carolina. And, to be honest, I’ve been journaling a lot, but not working on anything that I’m trying to publish.
On my very first morning here, after my husband left for work, I walked the steep hill up to a nearby café, ordered a butter croissant and a hot chocolate and sat on the outdoor patio to read a craft book. The air smelled slightly salty, and the temperature was 70 degrees, a welcome change from the steamy summer heat of North Carolina. I could hear seagulls calling, as well as joyful play from the Primary School across the street. I couldn’t believe it. I was here.
I was struck by the fact that I don’t think I would have given myself the luxury of a leisurely Tuesday morning of reading and sipping hot chocolate back in my own town of Durham, North Carolina I. I would have felt like I had too much to do. I would have seen the stacks of laundry piling up. I wouldn’t have been as enticed by my regular café view at the few local places I visit when I want to do some work.
And I was struck by the reminder that in order to write creative nonfiction and memoir, you also have to leave the house and live life to see what you bump up against, what you discover, and how you see the world. You have to break out of your everyday routines, grooves of your life that may have become so familiar that it’s hard to see past them.
Being here is also reminding me that each time I visit a new city — whether it’s just for a day, or for longer — I can’t help trying to catalogue the very essence of that city, like maybe if I can get it down on paper I can feel like I belong. What does the place smell like? Feel like? What’s the color palette? How do people talk? What phrases do you hear often? What sounds do you hear? It’s just something I’ve always done. I suppose it’s an exercise in “place.”
I want to publicly thank the writers in my classes, who have agreed to hold our classes over zoom while I’m here. I’m also feeling thankful that my flexible schedule allows me to spend a few hours exploring each day. I’m just a short walk to the beach and I’m surrounded by literary history — they even have Jane Austen on their bills!
This Substack isn’t meant to be a travel journal — there are other publications focused on that — but I wanted to bring a little bit of Brighton to all of you today. I hope you can feel the sun rays from here.
I’m a slow thinker and I always have been. It takes me awhile to process and then understand my life, so I won't know for many months or years what — if anything — is being hatched or rearranged during this time in Brighton. But I’m so excited to be here.
Each month, toward the middle of the month, I offer a writing prompt and a reading recommendation for my paid subscribers. These are arriving to you late this month because I was hosting family this past week and a half.
I’ve been offering these prompts and recommendations for about a year now, and I am realizing that they’re perfect for writers who might not currently be attending a writing class, but who still want to engage with the creative nonfiction world and with their writing practice on their own time.
The first step to finding authority and authenticity in your writing, after all, is to write and read. Take some time to notice what resonates with you, notice what you like and what nags at you in other essays and books. Write a few lines yourself, within the safe confines of a prompt. You never know what starting these new habits might bring forth.
A prompt doesn’t need to be tidy, it doesn’t need to stay in the lines. In fact, it’s a safe little container that you can roam around in, which reminds me of this instruction I saw the other day:
“‘Don’t digress',’ people are always saying. ‘Get to the point.’ … my advice is to court digression … those places in the mind that we usually shut out because they would appear to lead us astray. Let your conversation get away from you; let a new story take over.” - Judith Kitchen