Twitter has been such a vibrant community for me — I came across your posts, which compelled me to look up your stories, which led to a good chunk of shelf dedicated to your work (including the collection with the short story gestured toward here). I too will miss the verbosity of Twitter and the way a bookish and somewhat awkward person like myself could open a silly little app and read wonderful jokes and stories and send a few of my own skipping across its surface. Now it’s mostly dry creek.
I miss old Twitter, but I left for good. Made a lot of good friends there, found you through it, but I can't. Substack Notes isn't a replacement, but sometimes it feels right.
Also, thank you for the photo of the shag! I just read Tarka the Otter, and Williamson gives them menace. I looked them up, saw "cormorant" and dismissed them. How wrong I was. It's like a cormorant involved with organized crime. The one sent to cut off your finger if you renege on a bet.
By happy coincidence, I've just reread 'Proof' on a day when I needed to take a trip to your short story world. It's a magnificent piece, brimming with warmth and sharp, funny dialogue encompassing the tragi-comic misfirings of a father and son. Also, your collections encourage me to keep going with my distinctive (odd) voice.
I found you and the “limey ball & chain” on Twitter and am forever thankful and love your books and art. I would brave a big Gatsby-like party just to say hello and thanks. Not many can say they just revisited the Isle of Mull (yay Nancy Franklin, another valued Twitter discovery, who used to write for The New Yorker, I miss her). That puffin is adorable. I read in a science piece that one of the few places on earth benefitting from climate change weather-wise is, or will be, Scotland.
Yes exactly, re Twitter. I’m so sorry to see it go. It had become more than the sum of its parts, but its parts went for scrap surprisingly quickly. X indeed. You make me remember an old children’s poem by Christopher Isherwood:
You are NOT socially awkward. (Although, now that you mention it, our best conversations have probably happened perched on the tub of a rich person's bathroom in a house stuffed with people.)
Twitter has been such a vibrant community for me — I came across your posts, which compelled me to look up your stories, which led to a good chunk of shelf dedicated to your work (including the collection with the short story gestured toward here). I too will miss the verbosity of Twitter and the way a bookish and somewhat awkward person like myself could open a silly little app and read wonderful jokes and stories and send a few of my own skipping across its surface. Now it’s mostly dry creek.
I miss old Twitter, but I left for good. Made a lot of good friends there, found you through it, but I can't. Substack Notes isn't a replacement, but sometimes it feels right.
Also, thank you for the photo of the shag! I just read Tarka the Otter, and Williamson gives them menace. I looked them up, saw "cormorant" and dismissed them. How wrong I was. It's like a cormorant involved with organized crime. The one sent to cut off your finger if you renege on a bet.
That is exactly what shags are! They shrieked at me & I jumped back & went the long way around them: I received the message.
By happy coincidence, I've just reread 'Proof' on a day when I needed to take a trip to your short story world. It's a magnificent piece, brimming with warmth and sharp, funny dialogue encompassing the tragi-comic misfirings of a father and son. Also, your collections encourage me to keep going with my distinctive (odd) voice.
Yes to all of this. 💗
I found you and the “limey ball & chain” on Twitter and am forever thankful and love your books and art. I would brave a big Gatsby-like party just to say hello and thanks. Not many can say they just revisited the Isle of Mull (yay Nancy Franklin, another valued Twitter discovery, who used to write for The New Yorker, I miss her). That puffin is adorable. I read in a science piece that one of the few places on earth benefitting from climate change weather-wise is, or will be, Scotland.
Yes exactly, re Twitter. I’m so sorry to see it go. It had become more than the sum of its parts, but its parts went for scrap surprisingly quickly. X indeed. You make me remember an old children’s poem by Christopher Isherwood:
“The common cormorant or shag
Lays eggs inside a paper bag…”
No proof is needed that stories with puffins are delicious 😋
You are NOT socially awkward. (Although, now that you mention it, our best conversations have probably happened perched on the tub of a rich person's bathroom in a house stuffed with people.)