Writing Was My Own Escape: A Guest Post by Emilia Hart

By Emilia Hart / March 11, 2024 at 1:34 am

We love stories that take us to so many different places. When they serve as an escape and teach us a little bit more about where we came from (and where we’re headed), we’re hooked. Emilia Hart’s novel, Weyward, takes readers across time in a unique tale of perseverance. Here, Emilia Hart dives into her inspirations for Weyward, the rich cultural history behind it, and current events that led to its creation.

Paperback $17.00 ~~$19.00~~

Weyward: A Novel

By Emilia Hart

In Stock Online

Paperback $17.00 ~~$19.00~~

Three women, connected across centuries by blood and magic, forge paths of their own — reclaiming their natural power from those who seek to repress them. A magical, atmospheric tale for readers of Sarah Perry and Kate Morton.

In early 2020, when I wrote the very first lines of Weyward, the UK had just gone into lockdown. I was in the very fortunate position of living in Cumbria, England – a region defined by its stunning natural landscape. From my window, I could see dramatic grey skies and purple hills; a clear, cold stream burbled nearby. In a way, I felt I’d escaped modern life: the air was clean and there was a dizzying amount of space. And yet in a sense I hadn’t escaped at all. Like everyone else, I was only allowed to leave the house for an hour every day, and, thanks to my job in government, was keenly aware that a very dangerous virus raged through the country.

I realised that while lockdown was on one level a communal experience, it looked different for everyone. For some people, it was an escape: from the grind of the daily commute, the drag of meetings that should have been emails and the awkwardness of office small talk. Many weren’t so lucky. People lost their lives and loved ones to the virus. Others lost their jobs, their housing. Healthcare workers risked their lives for us every single day. And – this is what haunted me the most – victims of domestic violence were confined at home with their abusers. For these women (statistically, victims of domestic violence are mainly women), lockdown was not an escape at all. It was a cell.

At the same time, I learned that the beautiful landscape – the fells and streams that had so enthralled me – concealed a very dark history. An infamous witch trial had taken place nearby in Lancaster in 1612, leading to the hanging of eight women. Sadly, this was just one chilling instance of the witch hunt hysteria that spread across Europe and North America in the early modern period.

I couldn’t help but see a link. Centuries ago, women had been persecuted in the public arena of the courthouse; in 2020, they were being persecuted in their own homes. I felt angry and powerless. If only, I thought to myself, women really could call on the supernatural to break free from the bonds of patriarchy. If only we really were witches. But then I thought about how feminism – and female community – has withstood so much. Women continue to call for change, their voices louder now than ever. Isn’t female resilience its own kind of power? A power as defiant and irrepressible as that of the natural world?

I began to daydream about a modern-day woman, fleeing an abusive relationship in London for the wide open spaces of Cumbria. Breaking free by finding her power at last – a legacy passed down to her by the women who came before. Cautiously, I typed one sentence, then two. I found that I couldn’t stop. In the uncertain world of 2020, writing was my own escape. That woman became my character Kate, and those sentences became Weyward.