July 31, 2025

Baby's first West Cork Literary Festival (as a published author)

it's festival season baby!! plus a secret survey?? :0

The West Cork Literary Festival is legendary. A Big Deal. It’s got the clout to draw big names like Graham Norton and Richard E. Grant, but equally, it champions local writers, debut writers, and even wretched creatures like myself.

The WCLF has been running for almost three decades now, in the beautiful West Cork town of Bantry. I love Bantry. I love being so close to the ocean, I love the market, I love all the dogs. 

(How do I always end up gushing about West Cork? I swear I’m not sponsored by West Cork. I don’t think that’s a thing. Maybe I should have gotten a job in tourism).

I was pretty excited about being invited to speak about A Fix of Light in Bantry Bookshop at this year’s festival. I’d been to the WCLF before with the Rainbow Library, usually to launch their annual collection of work (in anthology or zine form!) but this would be my first festival event about my own work.

I was excited but also nervous. Just a few months ago I’d had an event in the City Library that had zero (0!!) attendees. Because other authors have been gracious enough over the years to share their low moments, I knew that it was not an omen signalling the fast-approaching heat-death of my career. It helped that when I posted about it on Insta, loads of wonderful writers flooded my comments with support and similar hilariously tragic anecdotes.

I drove down on the Sunday and made it into Bantry in time for the children’s books writers and illustrators meetup in Ma Murphy’s. Most festival-goers gather in the Maritime Hotel or Ma Murphy’s after the events of the day, so it’s a great place to meet other artists.

(Ma Murphy’s, by the way, is a brilliant spot for pints and pizza. Would highly recommend.)

Is it intimidating, sitting at the same table as the Laureate na nÓg? Yes. Absolutely. I was sipping Beamish and balancing an umbrella on my lap and battling my audio-processing-delay and all I could think was, How did I trick so many clever people into letting me publish a book? How am I here? Can they sense my Otherness?

I have it on good authority that the imposter-syndrome feeling never goes away, no matter how many books you put out. It was very strange to be one of the Professionals with a Book Out. I’ve spent my whole existence reaching for that rung on the ladder, and now…here I am. A Fix of Light has been out for SIX MONTHS and I’m still wrapping my head around it.

But as I said to the lovely Raising Voices Fellows (hi guys!!) I’ve had tons of help from artists and industry people that shared information and time and expertise – and I am determined to pay that forward!!

I stayed in Barry’s beautiful B&B, which was right on the water and conveniently close to Supervalu when it came time for a snack run. My event wasn’t on until 11am on Monday morning, so I slept in a little and enjoyed the sound of the rain (accompanied by goldfinch song!)

I stopped in Sam’s Cara for a quick coffee to ground myself, which turned out to be a great move, because there was a dog who flopped about demanding belly rubs from patrons, and I even got a complimentary chocolate wafer bar. Not to mention the pottery was visually beautiful and tactilely satisfying (autists will understand) and the signage was hilarious. Truly I could not have stumbled across a better spot.

Then it was time to walk over to Bantry Bookshop, and face my public execution.

There was no guillotine, thankfully, but there was a sizeable crowd already gathered in the shop when I arrived!! And my name was on the wall. 

The bookshop had loads of letters carved from wood (I think? I was afraid to touch them lest everything come crashing down) and painted silver, so they could put anyone’s name up easily! I thought it was such a clever and brilliant way to jazz up the space. 

Once I had my photograph taken (does anyone else lose control of their face when they’re asked to pose for a picture???) I settled in with my foxy companion (for emotional support) and the wonderful poet emcee extraordinaire, Molly Twomey! 

I was more nervous than I had initially realised, and I’d never spoken about A Fix of Light in front of so many people in so much depth before, so I don’t think my answers were as eloquent and earth-shatteringly intellectual as I’d have liked. There’s a reason I write rather than try to express myself aloud. 

“But Kel, as a theatre practitioner, surely you have experience in improv?”

I could improv for hours, but it would all be lies and stories. Utter exaggeration, approximations of true events that I have no first-hand experience of. Part of me thinks it would be hilarious to be very obvious about the fact that I’m lying and giving different answers in every interview (á la Robert Pattinson) but the other part of me thinks that maybe I need to establish myself a little more securely in the author scene before I start overtly lying.

Molly asked brilliant questions, as did the festival-goers, and I got to have really lovely chats with the folks who got their copies of Fix signed. I even got my FIRST EVER FANMAIL.

For their privacy I will keep its contents to myself, but when I read it the first time I cried and when I went back to reread it again I cried again and now it’s sitting on my desk, daring me to leak more from my eyes.

Because that’s the whole point, isn’t it? I wrote the book I wanted to find on the shelf when I was a teenager. Now a teenager has found it and read it and loved it. Job done. Everyone can go home now.

Except, wait! My WCLF experience did not end there, oh no. As I mentioned before, I am very lucky to facilitate the Rainbow Library, and they were hosting their own zine-making workshop for young folk, as well as launching their latest anthology! (They are an awe-inspiring and intimidating bunch).

The brilliant Sarah Maria Griffin was the one to break a bottle of champagne over the Lore anthology, and she spoke beautifully about young people and nature and having that golden space to be who you are when you’re figuring everything out. This was a pretty surreal moment for me as much as the young people – I read Other Words For Smoke in college and have frequented @griffski socials since to keep up with her whimsical adventures. In other words, I’m a big fan.

Even when I am panicking about money or despairing over how devalued artists are, I try to remember how lucky I am and how grateful I am to be in this world. West Cork Literary Festival was a much needed injection of hope. A…fix of light, if you will. Wink wonk. There are so many artists out there who are so generous and kind and wise. There are people out there who are willing to take a chance on you and your art. Keep those people close, and follow their example. Community does not simply appear; it has to be made, maintained, like a garden.

Okay. I really should get back to working on Project H&H. If you’ve made it this far, then comment your favourite emoji. This is mine: 🦊

Slán!!!