Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer

@kitwhitfield

World Fantasy Award finalist. She/her. In Brian Froud's Green Women: bit.ly/4cOoxUT The Gyrford series: Horror reviews: Patreon posts (free): Rep: Sophie Hicks.

1.391 Folgt3.267 Follower4.493 Posts

Patreon YouTube Website Bluesky

writing

Ist das dein Profil?Übernimm es — dann gehört dir kitwhitfield.dirty.social.Profil übernehmen

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jul 10

You have to understand that in Europe, 10°C equals one season. Once you do it’s intuitive all the way down. 0 = Winter 10 = Autumn 20 = Spring 30= Summer Anything over 30 = This is not a fucking season, we didn’t build for this shit

X thread.

First comment by @PatsKam: I completely understand why Europeans say “football“ and not soccer, but you CANNOT convince me Celsius is better than Fahrenheit. Like 35 degrees just doesn’t represent how hot it truly is, but 95 degrees, now HOT. It makes more sense.

Second comment by @ItsAndyRyan: If you’re arguing that “95 degrees sounds hotter than 35 degrees“ then you have to accept that zero degrees sounds colder than 32 degrees.” the (bad) argument swings both ways.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jul 6

Weekend Dracula latte.

Take-away cup on a concrete bench in a sunny park garden. It’s actually a matcha latte with cherry syrup, but you can imagine the trickles are Hammer Horror blood trickles if your mind works that way.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jul 5

Harriet Martineau’s reading of THE MEMORY GAME is one of the richest audio performances I know. Masterpiece of dramatic irony. A woman horribly right that there’s something frightening in her family and trusting the worst possible people to help her understand what.

‘Only on Audible’ cover image of The Memory Game by Nicci French. A gold pocket watch sits in a small pool of light, surrounded by shadows.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jul 3

Writing/#folklore question. I’m reading here that people used to bury horse skulls in building foundations, either for acoustic or talismanic reasons. Wanna know more. Anyone got good resources?

Book: Bone Magic, A Historical And Practical Guide To The Traditions Of The British Isles Regarding Bone Magic by Sophie Buchanan

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 29

Better version without the icons on screen!

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 29

Spotted driving by.

Mural on the corner of a building on the street Eccleston Place in London. Black background with a blue greyhound looking back over its shoulder, surrounding by flowers. It had a stylised look reminiscent of medieval tapestries.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 24

Photo of a bee against a leaf, with red arrows pointed to its leg joints labelled ‘Bee’s knees’.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 17

#booksky #bookqw word: NEVER Widowed fairy-smith Jedediah is under pressure to foster out his son Matthew; tradition holds that raising small children is women's work. The bit about bears is a real bit of #folklore. Couldn't resist playing with it. Book: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

Why, hadn’t they the lesson from God’s creatures the bears? When cubs were born, they were mere lumpen muddles; it was the mother’s tongue that licked them into shape. If a father bear had tried such a thing, he’d find himself raising formless abominations.
Jedediah had managed not to hit the man of God, who had no children himself and hadn’t noticed how carefully Matthew remembered his manners that day.
‘Matthew’s nature is set,’ he’d said as quietly as he could. ‘He’s no infant and I’m no bear. He’ll shape himself within his home, and that’s here with me.’
It had been a long dispute, and he’d never really persuaded the visitor. It was just lucky that Mister Haye, the Gyrford parson of the time, was a man of mild and incurious temper when it came to doctrine and considerable interest in the workings of God as expressed in the birds and beasts of Creation. Mister Haye was swayed mostly by Jedediah’s undeniable contention that he was, indeed, not a bear.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 15

Source: Christmas Crackers 1970-1979, John Julius Norwich.

‘Pleasant to me is the glittering of the sun upon these margins, because it flickers so.’

Marginal note by an Irish scribe in a ninth-century manuscript.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 12

Artist: Lorena Kloosterboer

Painting, acrylic on panel; detailed, glossy and precise. A little sparrow perches amid stacks of blue-painted Japanese bowls.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 10

#booksky #BookQW word: GROUP Apprentice fairy-smith John was called on to deal with the case of a talking cat. Now, thanks to John, it's not talking. Not because it can't, but because he made it so angry it's giving humanity the silent treatment. Buy here: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

As they concluded their talk, a striped brown cat came picking his delicate way amongst the cabbages like a monarch in an ornamental maze, and Bill took his thumb out of his mouth and called out, ‘Puss!’
Puss turned his head to examine the group and, seeing an offending mortal sitting in undeserved dignity between his favourite boys, gave a small spit of contempt and bounded away.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 8

The tree's been blossoming over with birds all spring. Don't know why it chose birds instead of flowers, but there'll be some grand flocks come autumn. Photo: James Crombie #AskAFairySmith

Photograph: a murmuration of birds taking flight. They look as if they're gathered like leaves around a tree trunk.

Source: https://www.westmeathexaminer.ie/2024/02/06/local-man-wins-at-press-photographer-of-year-awards/

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 7

Watch where you step in the meadow; the flowers are getting Edenic again. #AskAFairySmith Artist: Ellen Jewett

Sculpture against a black background: an orange snake whose tail gradually morphs into a trail of vines and flowers.

Source: https://www.ellenjewettsculpture.com/portfolio-of-escape-and-near-misses-iii

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Jun 1

First of the month! White rabbits. Artist: Joseph McHugh

Poster in bold prints of red and blue. A white rabbit with pink eyes sits in the centre, up on its back legs. The floor it stands on is a chessboard covered with playing cards, a mushroom, a bottle labelled 'Drink me' and a chess knight, as well as a smaller chess board. It leads in sharp perspective to a doorway in the background, from which radiate psychedelic Matisse-style squiggles of red and blue so vibrantly contrasting they're almost an optical illusion. There appear to be letters woven in and out of them, and they read 'Keep Your Head', but it's hard to make out what they say if you don't already know.

Source: https://www.vam.ac.uk/shop/prints/white-rabbit-print-161853.html?srsltid=AfmBOoo-4bWELAJPXAWthVAoxytHmbEWuuUcL_sQAcCsJLXMPMY0WJwa

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 31

See, this is why I write. When I try to draw a frog it looks like this.

Pen drawing on lined paper. It’s technically a frog, but you might not know that if I didn’t tell you.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 27

#booksky #bookqw word: MORNING There's something fey about his Aunt Pell's woods, and apprentice fairy-smith John really wants to go into them. John's considered a little 'touched', though, and not allowed to mess with fey things unsupervised. Book: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

The wood rested there, clear and dark in the morning light, self-contained as an apple cupped in a palm. John wished, as he always did, that he could go and visit it. He couldn’t, though: he was firmly forbidden to enter. It was a great frustration to him; even on quieter days, there was a chill brilliance, a glassy heaviness of air between the trees, as if the whole place existed underwater, and he craved a walk there like an overheated man wanting to dive into a shimmering pool.
But Aunt Pell would have known. Every single time he had tried to climb the fence, she had known; he could never get more than one leg up before he’d feel a firm set of fingers on his ear. It was infuriating, especially as Pell had no shadow of the unkenned upon her, nothing that should have let her see things others didn’t. She was as plain as earth, and glad to be so – and yet she always caught him. Knowing such things without a touch of feyness about her was cheating, somehow.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 20

#booksky #bookqw word: HELP John is an apprentice fairy-smith, and having some knack for fey things is reasonable. Too much, though? John is 'touched', and it makes folks uncomfortable. Yes I do come from a neurodivergent family, why do you ask? Books: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

‘What is it, Johnny?’ Janet said.
‘I don’t know.’ For a moment, John looked – there wasn’t even a word for it. His starey look, the world around him closing out and his eyes focused on something that might not be there, something only he could see. ‘It just feels . . . look you, there’s a smudge on the corner here.’ He lifted it to his face. ‘It smells – does that smell of sap to you? Bramble sap?’
Janet sniffed the page, then shook her head, helpless. ‘I don’t know, Johnny,’ she said. ‘I don’t know any of what you’re thinking when you think like this.’
John raised his head, and there was a look of hurt in his eyes, of abashed loneliness, that she could hardly bear. ‘I don’t mean to be odd,’ he said. ‘I just—’
‘Wait.’ It was the hoarse voice of Alice Brady that cut across them. ‘Let me see.’

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 18

He’s had all sorts of fey beasts raiding his stores. Little chimera the size of your hand, with mouse-ears and bird-wings and fish-tails and snail-eyes. Iron’ll keep em out. Reckoned they need a chart too, to show em what parts go on what animal. Artist: Fritz Kuhn #AskAFairySmith

Wrought iron gate with decorative circles between the bars. In the centre of this circle rather than life like and charming iron beetle.

Wrought iron gate with decorative circles between the bars. In each circle is a creature, facing another creature that mirrors it in the next bar over these include squirrels, snails, fish, birds, seahorses and mice.

Wrought iron gate with decorative circles between the bars. In this circle, a snail with a twisty shell and, comically, eyes apparently below it stalks.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 17

Making Cocoa For Kingsley Amis

It was a dream I had last week
And some kind of record seemed vital.
I knew it wouldn't be much of a poem
But I love the title.
Wendy Cope, Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 14

This always stuck with me. Definitely a better explanation than I can give for why I can write fantasy but not sci fi.

Poster from London’s Science Poems on the Underground series:

Out There
by James McKendrick (1955)

If space begins at an indefinite zone
where the chance of two gas molecules colliding
is rarer than a green dog or a blue moon
then that’s as near as we can get to nothing.
Nostalgia for the earth and its atmosphere
weakens the flesh and bones of cosmonauts.
One woke to find his crewmate in a space suit
and asked where he was going. For a walk.
He had to sleep between him and the air-lock.
Another heard a dog bark and a child cry
halfway to the moon. What once had been
where heaven was, is barren beyond imagining,
and never so keenly as from out there can
the lost feel earth’s the only paradise.

Reprinted by permission of the author and the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation
from Dark Matter: poems of space (2008)

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 12

#booksky #bookqw word: WANDER The standing stones of this hill used to slink about like wolves, so an ancestor of John, our apprentice fairy-smith, cut the image of a fiercer wolf into the chalk hill opposite. They stopped. But John's starting to wonder if it was cruel. Buy: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

John turned his eyes to the chalk wolf opposite them. As he looked, he thought he felt something: a kind of cringe under his palm. The standing stone didn’t move; it was hard and rough as ever. There was just something in its rigidity like a locked muscle; the frozen stillness of a beaten hound.
It wasn’t confusion. He was touching a stone full of fear.
‘It’s just a picture,’ he tried to whisper to it. Setting the stone wolves on the wander again was the kind of thing Grandpa would have very stern words about, but he wasn’t thinking about that. The crag of rock against his skin was like the bristle of terrified hackles.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 12

Artist: Nicholas Moegly

Dim twilight in a city street, pylons stretching between buildings and a huge church rising in the background. In a pool of lamplight stands a wary, alert fox.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 11

EXAM (2009) is on Amazon Prime. Excellent sci-fi thriller - the only white-room mystery I’ve ever seen with a good answer - but man, it’s wild watching post-Covid. A dystopia with a pandemic … and they’re all in a windowless room with no precautions! Spit! Blood! Used plasters! Those were the days.

Movie poster. The title, Exam, is at the bottom in big red digital letters. The background is dark, showing a dark desk with a white piece of paper on it, a pen lying across. Behind sits a man in a suit and tie, we can only see his hands, which look like those of a white 30-something.

The slogan reads: “80 minutes, 8 candidates, 1 answer. No question. “

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 9

1965: Let’s try a charming but melancholic portrait of the dark side of Swinging Sixties. 2026: This is basically Henry Portrait Of A Serial Killer with sex instead of murder.

Movie still with a shot of Michael Caine as Alfie holding co-star Jane Asher not-quite-affectionately by the neck.

Overlaid text: Alfie (1965)
Michael Caine sealed his screen stardom with this memorable portrayal of a cockney womaniser whose exploits seemingly typified the sexual freedoms of Swinging 60s London.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 6

#booksky #bookqw word: DRY A bramble has been talking in the woods, which means calling in a fairy-smith. Jedediah, elder of the smithy, has been testing the bush with cold iron. The bush has opinions about being prodded. Buy here: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj

The top of one of the stems cartwheeled down off the bush in an explosion of thorns and outrage and made a dash towards the offending men.
It might have gone ill with them if it wasn’t for the chain surrounding the bush, but as it was, the bundle of limbs stopped at the iron boundary and chattered in a series of vindictive clicks, each as dry as the snapping of a twig.
Jedediah looked down at it with a cautious regard. It was a thin thing, really, armed and legged with more or less the right number of limbs, albeit with a profusion of thorns on them and more angular air than was proper. Perhaps for the purposes of conversation, it had taken to wearing a blackberry for its head, and the beaded surface was giving it trouble as to the number of eyeballs it should settle upon.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 5

I don’t mind writing down accounts or counter-charms, but who prints a book on curses and expects it not to grow spines and go a-walking? #AskAFairySmith Artist: Suzanne Breakwell

Paper sculpture: book pages shaped and painted into an adorable hedgehog.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 4

I have never felt so reproached by a pear.

Sliced pear on a plate. Cutting it in half went through the seeds, so they look like a pear of sad eyes.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 2

Gig last night with Professor Elemental, Mr B and Thomas Benjamin Wild! What fun. If you know me you’ll know that chanting ‘NERDS GONE WILD!’ in a big noisy crowd isn’t my usual, but there I was. Those guys can work a room. More on Prof Elemental collab later…

Me and Professor Elemental in a blurry and unflattering but happy selfie.

Professor Elemental in colourful patchwork suit and rainbow-stickered pith helmet, working the crowd like a champ.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· May 1

White rabbits! First of the month. Illustration from ‘Noche Antigua’ by David Álvarez.

Illustration. Deep night, a full moon hanging in the sky - or something like a moon, as it has jug handles and is only part-full of light. On the ground, a wealth of leaves with a tree-like growth springing up, something between an agave plant and an octopus. In the centre of this plant, light shines up like well-water; a stylised rabbit leans over collecting a cup of it. Off to the side amidst the leaves sits a jug also filled with light.

Kit Whitfield - fantasy writer@kitwhitfield· Apr 29

#booksky #bookqw word: FREE The fairy-smiths have been following a trail of destruction since something alarmingly fey happened in the woods this morning. It led them to a graveyard where a man is being forced to dig by ... something. Buy: tinyurl.com/nvvetupj