Archive for creative writing

Why Writing is Important..

Posted in education, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 4, 2016 by kathydasilva

I live in  my flat, surrounded by nearly a lifetime’s worth of books spread out around the place even some on shelves in the kitchen. I started to collect and develop, my own taste in authors works, around the time, I came to live here in London. Mostly as a student, I collected second hand novels and the saving, made it possible to read plenty of the classics, that I felt my education up until the age of sixteen, had seemed to ‘leave out’. Bar the fact my mother taught us to read from a young age, and allowed us a choice of books from the school catalogue, she also made sure there was a good enough supply of abridged versions of classics with illustrations, so that as young as we were at the ages of say four to six, there was plenty of stimulus to look at books. And in a way, I am glad to have been her youngest child. I had an absent Godfather who also sent me wonderful books, and dresses.

With e-books becoming popular, I was thinking of cutting down on the scale of the collection, but, to be truthful even the covers, and the secretiveness of the content of a book, make it a mystery. It is like looking round a second hand shop full of curios. I especially like rediscovering tales that have been quite original and different in the backdrop of another culture or far away destination, and possibly time.


I picked up Albert Camus’ Exile and the Kingdom, from the shelf this evening, to find the story The Renegade.  It is a story of extremes, both in the condition of the characters, and the landscape of the  hot desert of West Africa. The narrator mentions Taghasa, and wikipedia informs me it is a region of saltmines. The story is about a missionary who has encountered a tribe of ‘savage people’, who cut out his tongue. He had gone to the desert people to take them the message of Christ, but, had been made to bow before their Fetish of a god, and was entrapped and beaten down.

‘What a jumble! What a jumble! I must tidy up my mind, Since they cut out my tongue, another tongue, it seems, has been wagging somewhere in my skull, somthing has been talking, or someone, that suddenly falls silent and then it all begins again – oh, I hear too many things, I never utter, what a jumble, and if I open my mouth it’s like pebbles rattling together.’ The Renegade, Albert Camus.

He ends up hating the people who had encouraged him to go out there, and wanting to prevent the humiliation of another missionary by intending to shoot him before he arrives in the city of salt. The entire story is unique, I have never read anything quite so extreme, and the only other author whose story The Immortals, Jorges Louis Borges, is there to make comparison.

And writing like this  is something that belongs to deep felt emotion and experience.

‘Squatting, as I am today in the shelter of the rock and the fire above my head pierces the rock’s thickness, I spent several days within the dark of the House of the Fetish, somewhat higher than the others, surrounded by a wall of salt, but without windows, full of sparkling night. Several days, and I was given a basin of brackish water and some grain that was thrown to me the way that chickens are fed, I picked it up.’

Yes that is why I collected books! I think story telling is important, and all cultures tend to write or story tell, and that is true throughout history. If we as humans should stop, what would there be to hand to the next generation? And then that image of H. G. Wells out of the Time Machine, of spinning discs, and books that disintegrated, as the man from our age, sees the future, through his travel. The books had been archived, it would seem in a library rarely visited, as the future inhabitants had become slaves of the Morlocks. The Morlocks, looked like savage ape-men, with no hint of intellect left, who had become cannibals! That was Wells’s  view of the post-nuclear war world. I see something different. And I hope for something different. We must make something different!

The Island -New Publication Out Now Under Amazon

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2015 by kathydasilva

BookCoverPreview.doThe Island

My new publication  The Island is available now, via Amazon sites as e-book, and paperback, Have a look, it might make an interesting stocking filler for Christmas, it’s a fiction for 16 years plus if you want to guage age suitability.

Sidari, Corfu

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 17, 2015 by kathydasilva

IMG_6957I spent one summer holiday on the Island of Corfu, marveling at the fact that my at-the-last-minute booking, had landed me a fairly nice room to myself, with a courtyard of ferns and palms, with terracotta plaster walls, and dark oak doors, my own balcony, and kitchen and a bathroom to swim in it was so roomy.  The green ferns and palms, just had the look of a hotel Ernest Hemingway had stayed in when traveling to Latin America.  I’d traveled alone, to the northern side of Corfu, Sidari.

Felt for felt. The lifetime once lived, recounted. Meshed into my memory, are islands, trekking, and photography, small sketches, and strangers at my table, telling me about their lives. Dog handlers for the blind, part-time archeologists with an interest in time captured. And still, parts of Corfu, wrapped up in Cyprus trees twisted, and sketched to accommodate the Van Gogh urges that got lost, whilst figuring my own souls worth. My  first sight of an actual lemon tree growing lemons, situated between two small hut-like dwellings with an aging Greek nanny, sat at one of the doors, so as not to be lonely or unconsoled. Toothless, grinning, but swarthy from sunshine.  Artists go for the light and color in the Med. I went with the full intention of filling a sketch book. I found a wonderful corner of delight and peace, with art cafe to boot.  Aqua marine. Vert-et-blu. and still, there was just occasion to romance, and then ditch the poor fellow. Was it me? He just was from Reading, and too far, to travel to? The monastery at the top of the hill, looked like a closed order. High walls, small gate with peep hole aperture, no one around to speak to. Thousands of tiny spiders in webs in rough bushes and shrubs surrounding the uncultured landscape. A wilderness. I managed to buy and read the last manuscript which got published posthumously of William Golding, called the Double Tongue. Written with an extensive understanding of humor, William Golding, surpassed himself, with a story about a girl who became a ‘seer’, a priestess who would be consulted for the ‘advance viewing’ ability of her soul, particularly with regard to the outcomes of battle.  It was all fake. The pigeons prove very useful in trying to confer the message on all who sought advice, so as to be consistent. Old man and the sea…..

Patched up my soul seeks this refuge, from storm clouds too many to count. Why is it so?



Posted in Stories and reviews with tags , , , , , , , on January 4, 2015 by kathydasilva

Hi Everyone,

I have just published an e-book of my short stories under the title Nemesis, on the Kindle Amazon site.  Am hoping it might generate some interest for the writing. Please browse the page and see, that if you are already a Kindle owner you can read this publication for free. If anyone wants to purchase a permanent copy for either PC or tablet or smartphone it is free to down load the Kindle App, just go to or if you are in America

HAPPY READING! Happy holidays…Happy New Year!

Hoping this gets some of my writing out to an audience. As a result of how simple it is to upload a manuscript to Amazon, I feel now the impetus to create a whole novel, possibly Novella …see how far I get a new title is in the offing The Island… however not decided whether to use this title yet….but for now it’s The Island great experience finally putting some words down and a story that is my own…though it’s true we are all influenced by the genius writers  our predecessors and I guess it might influence some of the themes….. holiday mayhem, and darker aspects of travel….oh ho..see you all soon! Kathy Da Silva

A Walk in the Park

Posted in Autobiography, Current affairs, Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2014 by kathydasilva


Why is it walking amidst fields feels so much better than a London street? Far from the madding crowd… I use to love Thomas Hardy novels, for all the drama, and sorrow, irony? Everything that is human about us humans. Jude the Obscure was made into a movie. I then read the novel, but, it is a deeply thought provoking piece of literary wisdom. Humans fail, and then they fail again, and then there is sorrow.

I feel saddened. This feeling has grown slowly, but, surely since I think the event in New York city of 9/11. There is definitely a feeling of unrest, that will not go away. I think the whole world watched news reel items unfold, some of which seemed a little pseudo in content. If the events were indeed as described, ‘an act of terror’ from a definite band of criminals, then nothing really has made sense for a long time, let alone the war, the invasion of Iraq. The war presented the entire European community with incoming refugees. Such large population displacement, has caused I think the extremist groups to become more motivated in their various versions of racism.  So everyone feels a bit unsettled.  After the event of the 7th July 2005, bombings in London, at least two of my close friends made decisions not to live in the capital again.

The event of the knowledge of surveillance being increased, (with the whistle blow of Edward Snowden),not just increased, but like Russia before, whole populations of peoples being ‘watched’, seems to set an alarming precedent, to anything I have known in my lifetime.  Non of ‘us’ really know who or what the ‘enemy’ is. George W Bush was the worst politician of all time for using the words ‘folk over there’. To this day I cannot believe, that a president of the United States of America could have sounded so ignorant. The ugliness of the situation, something left hanging in the air. The information that warnings about an imminent event in New York, being overlooked. This being the global leading ‘giant’. The USA unprepared for the ‘day’.

Recently it was reported that 850 firemen from the event of 9/11 developed cancer. Some of them already have died from cancer. There was the mention of asbestos in the building materials of the twin towers. There have been suggestions of additional bombs placed in the building which effectively brought them down on their own foundations straight down, not toppling over onto the neighbourhood.  Yes. We all watched in horror our television sets. I know I did. I know apart from sleeping hours, that I was glued through the horror to following the story of the whole event. I had too thought of returning to my town of birth, because it looked like world war three was about to erupt.

Just before the event of September 11, 2001, I had been studying photography at a local college in Barking. I had thoroughly enjoyed learning colour processing, and printing, I had planned to use the new skills, and develop my art career once more. Also, Greenbelt Festivals, which at the time operated from Cheltenham Race Course, in Gloucestershire, offered in 2002 a feature spot on their weekend of arts, for new play writers. I had developed a poem, probably a few years before that, which I used to make approximately fifteen minutes of script. I called it ‘See Through to Forever’ a prophetic/creative piece/drama, this got read out on the August Bank Holiday of 2002. I had emailed the content to Esther Baker, who ran an amateur dramatics group called Fusion. They as a group would do drama workshops with people in prison.  Esther is a Baptist, and professional director in London theatres. Esther Baker’s workshop was meant to be a show casing of new talent in writing for theatre.  At the time I had no idea that every email I had written was being filtered by the state or the NSA or who ever. Occasionally, I would hear my disc drive attempting to read a disc, when there was no disc in place. Back in 2002, we still had the old floppy discs, now replaced with USB memory sticks. I had however, become aware of the possibility of a ‘hacking’ attempt on my home computer, brand new as it was then. I had started as a precaution to place all my creative writing onto discs so that if I went onto the internet, the work might stand some chance of staying unread until I chose to publish. The whole story of ‘everything’ being copied and collected by the state, had never occurred to me. There were no official warnings to the public after all. When I wrote email, I had presumed the password protected the personal emails sent to an addressed human the other end on the receiving end. There were a few incidences, where my words seemed to have ended up in the mouths of actors on TV dramas. I had at one point attempted to write to the BBC about this occurrence. One drama in particular was the drama, called, A Sea of Souls by David Kane. (I don’t need to remind people  I expect about the story of Cane and Able in the bible).  Cane murders Able out of jealousy. Now to add to the mystery I had written to a person identifying themselves as a fan of Johnny Depp, Gabriel Scar-Pfeiffer ( I think an alias). This man had openly advertised that he had knowledge of everything about Johnny Depp that people might be likely to want to know on a Johnny Depp fanzine site. Oddly enough, when I researched David Kane’s original history, it showed he had studied for a media degree, and did a specialized study  in fanzine sites and the use of them. I had written to Gabriel a private email, and talked about a painting I had seen on a postcard purchased from the Barbican in London. At the time, I could not remember the title, and described the picture like a sea of souls. The picture is a painting by Thomas Payne, the title, Enchanted Sea.  In January of I think 2003, a drama entitled, A Sea of Souls was broadcast. The first episode, involved a story about a Brazilian nanny, who had been murdered, leaving a house ‘haunted’. The place in which the body was hidden after the said deed, was a metallic tank filled with water. And the psychic in the drama, had been given script which read like a line out of my drama piece Seeing Through to Forever, which of course was read out well in advance of the screening of this series. The Psychic investigator says:

‘Why does blood taste like iron’….and then goes onto saying, something about the hemoglobin, causing it to be thus…….

If you look at my other postings, you will find some of this script, and can compare, the writing. But, I have already written to Scottish BBC in an attempt at asking about the obvious plagiarism. I also by chance found in the Recorder paper another author challenging the authorship of this series, who had sent in script for his own series drama proposal only to find parts of the stories appearing in a Sea of Souls…as if to rub salt into the wound.  How can the words in a private email end up in the hands of such a vulture, and or the BBC in Scotland.  I am still angry.  And now I suspect the information of my opinion addressed in Seeing Through to Forever, upset someone. Someone hidden in perhaps the offices of GCHQ? Or perhaps the NSA God forbid? So is the censorship of opinion already in place? It’s a big question in my head, because words do not suddenly appear on paper coincidently. I would challenge BBC Scotland on their written reply to me, on common assumptions of facts too. How easy is it to ruin someone’s aspiring efforts?  And now I appear to be moaning. But, I am justified.  Comments are welcome.

New Short Stories

Posted in Stories and reviews by Kathy Da Silva with tags , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2014 by kathydasilva

book cover

Here is the new book, and cover. It comes to mind, that experience is the starting point of a lot of things. I was a young girl trying to study art at a college in London. I had lived outside London since my birth until about the age of nineteen, so entering the city, even at the start, though an adventure, was also like entering a brick kind of jungle. There are miles of city in any direction. It takes a person about an hour to cross from one side to the other and that is also when the transport is by riding a tube train. The stories are, from as far back as my undergraduate years, though written more recently. I think I have grown more interested in abstract views too of story telling. However, the stories exist quirky and humorous in places, though some will pull faces no doubt, at the characters in some of the stories. At this current time are selling this at £3.49, plus the dreaded post & pack fee. About £2.80 but, the parcel can be directed to any address. It’s a great feeling just to share this. I feel more encouraged to make the number of stories grow now…in the hope of achieving about 150 to 200 pages. Looking For Pearls will be the next one in line…so happy…about this.  Happy reading for those who may dare, please think of giving authors a chance ..Christmas is coming too…Kathy Da Silva