Good morning Powells,

I LOVE snooker. I used to watch it on a black and white telly with my nan. Last night, the lean mean potting machine Wu Yize (China) out potted Shaun ‘the magician’ Murphy (England) to win the World Championship at The Crucible in Sheffield.

Wu won half a million quid. Shaun a measly 200 grand.

I suspect they both ended up being ranked in the Top 10 snooker players in the WORLD because they spend most of their time focused on… snooker.

I, on the other hand, spend most of my time doing everything other than drawing and making things. I persistently do things that don’t matter and only make a millimetre of progress in a thousand directions*. Then I consistently moan I don’t have enough time for the things that matter most to me.

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This behaviour cannot be allowed to continue. So, since my last post I’ve been eliminating non-essential things from my life with reckless abandon:

• I’ve deleted all unnecessary apps. Instead of having 6 exercise apps that I definitely never use, I now have one that I probably won’t use. Estimated time saved: none because I never used them anyway.

• I’ve unsubscribed from all the emails I don’t remember signing up for and I’ve created a TBR folder for all the emails I think I’ll read but absolutely won’t. Estimated time saved: 6.2 hours a day.

• I’ve deleted Vinted. I do not need any more ill-fitting cottage-core hand-wash-only white blouses that ‘only cost a fiver’. Estimated time saved: 12 hours a day.

• I made a radical decision to delete my over-complicated budgeting app. I no longer need to track, record and reconcile the £2.49 protein bar I bought at a train station, and allocate it to a category (does that go in travel or food and drink?!). Estimated time saved: 4 hours a day.

• I’ve streamlined my financial spreadsheet so it has 4 columns, not 400: what came in, what went out, what I saved and what I have left (that column is currently in the minus). Estimated time saved: 3 days a month.

• I’ve bought a small suitcase for overnight stays and filled 3 spare wash-bags with miniature versions of all the things I need for an overnight stay. Now I don’t need to pack every time I go on a school visit. Estimated time saved: 4 days a week because packing hurts my brain.

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So far (because this is just the beginning) eliminating the non-essential has saved me over 22 hours a day.

With these re-gained hours I intend to: rekindle my daily sketchbook practice which has been severely neglected in recent weeks; actually read The Bookseller—rather than using it to usher woodlice from my dining room; read the Substack publications I pay for each month and the 12 library books I’ve been renewing since November; finally put products in my shop. Weed the garden once a week. Finish decorating the attic after it lying dormant and half decorated for almost 12 months.

That all feels essential… doesn’t it?!

At the time of writing (ie. today, right now this second) I’ve already managed to do an hour of sketch booking and write to you.

I am off to a good start.

Powell x

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*Bastardised from Greg McKeown’s Book Essentialism, which I highly recommend.

Dear Powells,

This week, I’ve been preparing to re-enter the Substack stratosphere.

All systems went down for a while there, and I experienced a total blackout—a complete and utter loss of communication—which left me floating in outer silence, surviving on rations of powdered peas and dried shrimp.

Today is my planned re-entry window and I am preparing for a crash landing because I am about to get something off my flat chest.

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I have fallen off the Substack wagon many times—lots of you have stuck with me (thanks) many have left (that’s okay). Usually, when I return I make a joke of how busy I’ve been and I vow to be better next time around.

But this time I need to address the elephant in the room… or rocket, if I’m continuing with the outer space theme I appear to have started: my adhd.

If I don’t talk about this now, I will be living proof of the famous quote that wasn’t said by Albert Einstein: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

If I don’t publicly acknowledge how my adhd sometimes derails me, it will derail me more, because I’ll still be sort of pretending I don’t have it and then I can’t show up here as me.

So strap in because we’re about to hit some G-Force.

I was diagnosed in October 2024 at 7.30am in the morning over Zoom. The time isn’t actually relevant, I just want you to know how early I had to get up for the appointment.

At the time I was 45 years old.

My adhd is combined, meaning it’s hyperactivity-impulsivity, and inattentiveness all rolled into one. Fun times.

I knew absolutely nothing about adhd but I remember thinking it sounded like something I would rather not have. I had just moved house and I had no internet, my ceiling was leaking, I couldn’t find the box that contained my knickers and I had a manuscript to deliver in 3 days that I hadn’t started. Now that I write that I see that the signs of me having adhd were possibly there all along.

For a few weeks nothing changed. I didn’t even find my knickers. But the thread of my life had been pulled, and inevitably the whole thing started to unravel. Eventually, I was left holding a tangled mess of itchy wool that used to be my life.

Untangling it has been, in equal measures: emotional, ugly, confusing, overwhelming, tiresome, time consuming, expensive but ultimately, liberating. If I could trade it in for something else, a permanently ingrown toenail for example, I still might be tempted...

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Adhd shows up in my life in a myriad of ways, but let me use a real life example from last month.

• An aversion to boring things: I need to file my VAT return but after 10 minutes I get bored. I decide I’ll do the VAT some other time (ie. at the eleventh hour when it’s really urgent) and instead I’ll do something EXCITING now because I deserve it (a lie my brain tells me - for a quick hit of dopamine - that I believe).

• Inability to recognise body’s emotions: I confuse my body’s fear at what I’m about to do for excitement and decide to drive to a vintage shop 20 minutes away on the premise that it’s inspiring (another lie my brain tells me, which I believe).

• Impulsivity: As soon as I walk in through the door of the shop I see a plan chest that I do not need. Within 4.5 seconds I find myself paying an astronomical amount for it.

• Unrealistic expectations aka. living in a fantasy: As I am paying, I believe the plan chest is going to change my life and definitely make me a best-selling author before the year ends.

• Loud inner critic: She has LOTS of fun on the drive home telling me how stupid I was to buy it as I’m meant to be saving for a new bathroom and hasn’t she always known I was bad with money… blah blah blah.

• Shame: I realise when I get home that maybe, just maybe, I have been a little impulsive. The dopamine has officially worn off. The shame causes me to ignore the shop’s texts about a delivery date for 6 days.

• Inattentiveness: I did not measure for the plan chest. It did not even cross my mind. On this occasion (unlike with the washing machine I had to return for the same reason) it fits where it’s meant to go.

• Avoidance: The studio is now an absolute mess so I avoid it for a week and go on holiday.

• Time blindness: Another corker. When I’m back from holiday, I believe that sorting this mess will only take a couple of hours and I’ll be done by lunchtime. Great!—because I have lots of drawing to do and I want to write a Substack post.

• Indecision: By mid-afternoon I’m nowhere near done and all the decisions I have to make about where things go are draining my life-force energy.

• Hyperfocus: This is when my brain lasers in on something and won’t let go of it until I finish it, or spontaneously combust from trying. I spend 14 hours solid tidying the studio. By the end it’s 10pm, I’ve not eaten, haven’t had a wee to the point of bringing on a urinary infection and I’m exhausted.

Sidenote: All the furniture that was in my studio had to live in the dining room for a while because I didn’t manage to sell it in time. Actually, I didn’t even try. So the chaos continued until this morning, when a nice lady with no teeth collected it for free.

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I suspect a neurotypical person may have approached their boring VAT return like this:

• Get a bit bored.

• Stop for a biscuit.

• Make a Pinterest board for inspiration.

• Have a wee.

• Finish VAT return.

• The End.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to do the same...

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Yours, back on planet Substack,

Powell x

P.S I have popped some adhd resources below for anyone that might be interested.

I only have four that I currently recommend because if you have adhd one thing you don’t need is choice. I do not read books on ADHD because I cannot think of anything more boring. Only one has made it to my list because it’s short.

Kristen Carder - I’m a member of her adhd coaching group and she has straight up saved my sanity. She is worth every penny. If you can’t afford coaching, listen to her free podcast.

Kelly Banks who writes The Dopamine Dispatch. Thank you for pointing me in Kelly’s direction.

Leanne Maskell’s book ADHD an A-Z. Bite-sized explanations to get you started. Great for family or friends who may need help understanding what you need (or don’t).

One Sec app. This is brilliant and so simple. It interrupts the app’s or websites you tell it to and makes you breathe for a few seconds, before it asks you to decide whether you want to continue and if so… why.

Medication. I tried it. I have a cupboard full of it and it definitely works to quiet your mind and help you focus. In my case though, I prefer to take it only when I’m working on something mundane, like inking artwork or cleaning the house. I’ve discovered I can’t take it if I’m writing or brainstorming ideas, my brain feels too slow, so I choose carefully when to take them.

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Hello Powells,

I would like to retract the statement I made in my previous letter where I said I loved January. I now despise January. So much so, I would like it to be deleted from the yearly calendar entirely and for ever. I won’t bore you with what transpired to elicit such a U-turn, but trust me when I say: January sucked.

I am making a plea to February to just be nicer. So far, I’d say it’s been a mixed bag BUT, as we’re not even half-way through, there’s still time for it to win The Best Month of the Year Yet award!

On Tuesday this week my book published in the States. I hadn’t quite comprehended it until someone here told me they’ve ordered it from their library in Kansas. KANSAS! Do you know how far away that is from me?!

4,204 miles (if you fly in a straight line).

That’s 6,765,682 meters.

OR 43,976,933 sausages (if you lay them end to end and use an average 6 inch Lincolnshire).

It blows my mind to think that forty three million sausages away someone will be checking my book out of a library and taking it home to read (and presumably falling in love with).

To celebrate, I made homemade blueberry pancakes and got a haircut. Whilst I was in the hairdressers I was given a copy of Country Life magazine, a glossy weekly that started in 1897. I love this magazine - it’s very posh and hoity toity. In fact, it’s the only reason I get a haircut - so I can read it from cover to cover. To set the scene, the first few pages are ‘houses’ for sale and in the edition I was reading one desirable family home was a mere £15 million.

Aside from the cheap property, there are always some interesting articles about art… or art-icles if you wanted to make use of the obvious pun. One which I particularly liked was about illustrated menus. Let us campaign to bring illustrated menus back, as they are delightful. I took some photos and I assume sharing them here is fine?!*

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When I returned home, I sat with newly bouffant-ed hair and spent a ridiculously long time making an instagram post announcing that my book had published in the states. I posted it and immediately despised it. Viscerally. Almost as much as I despise January. I deleted it a mere 14 hours later and posted instead, something that took me two minutes to create and which I liked much better.

I think we can all agree that was an excellent use of my time (not).

Yours, forty-three million sausages away,

Powell x

* If I get sued by them I will be LIVID, as I am saving up for a Country Life magazine house.

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I love January. It has always felt like a small pocket of freedom to me. A month full of hope and possibility. I like to pack the previous twelve months into a box, lock it, stick it in the boot, drive it to the nearest lake and throw the thing in—preferably from a high bridge so it makes a satisfying splash before sinking out of sight. Then I drive home feeling about four billion times lighter. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Other January highlights:

• I can wear wool from head to toe without breaking a bead of sweat.

• No one judges me for not drinking because no-one is drinking.

• The snooker’s on.

• It’s the perfect season for BBC Dickensian dramas (though how anyone survived snowy London in a taffeta dress I’ll never know).

• Mince pies are half price.

• It snows.

If my front path weren’t icy enough for Torvill and Dean to skate their perfect-scoring Boléro on, January would get a ten out of ten from me.

Talking of snow…

We awoke this morning to over 30 centimetres of the stuff. I want to say I leapt out bed and rushed outside like the boy in The Snowman but, I’m 46 years old. I creaked and groaned my way out of bed, needed two cups of tea before I felt my brain engage and then manipulated my stiff and aching body into leg-warmers and walking boots.

The snow is beautifully deep and the surrounding countryside eerily quiet — just the drip-drip-drip of melting snow and the crunch of my boots. I half-expected to glimpse Mr Tumnus, or for the Snow Queen to appear on her sleigh and bribe me with Turkish delight. Instead, I saw a man on skis, skiing to the supermarket. A shame, really, as I hadn’t yet had breakfast and would have happily accepted some Turkish delight.

Meanwhile, back indoors…

I’m knee-deep not in snow, but in the first draft of Marty Moose book three.

The draft is due next week, so I’ll save the emotional rollercoaster (which seems to accompany every book) and the story of my new writing desk (complete with a secret button and a former life aboard a sea captain’s ship) for another day.

For now, I’ll sign off with a few of recent character drawings and a book I’ve enjoyed.

Yours truly,

Powell x

Drawn this week:

Photographed, not scanned so… please forgive the quality. Drawn with a fountain pen and pencil in an unbranded sketchbook.

Read this week:

Short. Beautifully written. Unexpected ending that broke my heart.

Damn you, DiCamillo, you’re too good! Borrowed from the library and hard to return.

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Hello Powells,

Today is an exciting day!

No, I’m not talking about Black Friday: only exciting if you’ve had your eye on some luxury quilted pillow protectors since May but, refusing to pay the hefty price tag, have stubbornly waited half a year to purchase them at a heavily discounted price.

Granted, that does sound quite exciting.

However, I am talking about today being the National Day for Illustration! Thanks to the Quentin Blake Centre who set this whole thing up, we have a whole day to OFFICALLY celebrate illustration.

Hip-hip hurray for Sir QB! And… Happy National Illustration Day!

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After being newly diagnosed with ADHD age 45 ½ last October, I went on to have an existential crisis: I questioned my entire existence, turned myself inside out to have a good look at what was going on, and recently put myself and my life back together in a way that makes more sense. I put the finishing touches to my new life on Tuesday, when I reorganised my entire filing structure on iCloud.

I also gave a great deal of thought this year to answering the question: Why does illustration bring me so much joy?

Here is what I’ve come to realise:

Let us say I am having a one of those days. Maybe it’s a grouchy day or an everything is booooring day. It could be an anxious-about-everything day, or a my-mind-is-like-a-henhouse-at-feeding-time kinda day, where I can’t get a break from a constant pecking of thoughts.

Regardless, if I happen to take a break and look at an illustration such as the one above, the following happens in approximately 6.7 seconds:

1. My mind shuts up instantly. It’s as though you have dangled a shiny object in front of a crying baby - suddenly, it’s distracted and soothed.

2. As a result, my worries drift away.

3. With my mind quiet I am able to feel the well of inner peace that exists inside of me at all times but is usually elbowed into a dark crevice by an bullish mind. Inner peace now takes up space.

4. Feeling peaceful leads to feeling unhurried, not something I am used to feeling. I can now allow myself the enjoyment of staring at the drawing and appreciating it.

5. The grand finale: inspiration strikes! Now I want to create something as beautiful and I cannot get to my sketchbook quick enough.

6. The result: my day has been transformed and I now feel different to how I felt 6.7 seconds ago. I suddenly feel hopeful, inspired, joyful, possibly even nostalgic and in some cases I may even be laughing-out-loud.

The exact same process happens to me when I open my sketchbook and start to draw.

My conclusion therefore is: Illustration transforms my mind and mood in less than 10 seconds for the better and it is therefore awesome.

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Now the only thing left to do here is to finish with an illustrator whose work inspires and delights me. I will choose:

Norman Thelwell.

I was about 7 years old when I started riding horses but I’m not sure when I first engaged with his work. I have a vague memory of seeing a Thelwell ceramic mug in the tack shop and I got one of his books for Christmas a few years after, so probably then. His sense of humour, the expressions, the dry British sarcasm all roll into one big ball of wonderfulness, and I have been a life-long fan of his work ever since.

Writing this, I was surprised to discover Thelwell grew up in BIRKENHEAD! - a stone’s throw from my home-town, and the place where I went to art college (and failed, but that’s a story for a different day).

Let me know in the comments why you love illustration and who you’re celebrating today.

Yours, a member of the Thelwell appreciation society,

Powell x

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Greetings from Wales!

We made it. Stefan and I arrived in Cardigan Bay yesterday, after a scenic five hour drive in torrential rain. Our bladders held up surprisingly well for our age and we only required one stop en route, meaning we arrived at our cliff top hotel exactly 13 minutes before we were booked into the hotel’s spa. 14 minutes after our arrival I was neck deep in the hotel jacuzzi, where I ignored the ‘maximum 15 minutes’ sign preferring to remain submerged until I resembled a shrivelled prune.

Today we began a coastal walk to Mwnt beach ‘not far away’ and then I realised Mwnt beach was actually ‘very far away’ and on a ‘coastal’ path that was less coastal and more just… a road. We decided to turn back, hop in the car and drive there. The scenery is very dramatic and I absolutely love it. Give me a stormy sky, a sheer cliff drop, a dead seal on the beach having its eyes pecked out by a seagull and a church from the 13th Century ANY DAY. On the way back to the hotel we stopped for quiche at a local farm and then had great fun feeding farm animals.

Tomorrow is Stefan’s 49th birthday and we are going Dolphin spotting! According to the website we have a 6/10 chance of spotting the resident Bottlenose Dolphins, which feels like decent odds and worth the £90 it’s cost me. Wednesday we will be exploring Cardigan town and I am hoping to see some actual cardigans because up until now I’ve only seen jumpers, which has been somewhat disappointing.

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On Thursday we collect Ziggy, the puppy we have now paid in full for so there’s no going back (he is located in Cardigan, hence the trip). We are mostly prepared for his arrival; all that’s left to buy is a puppy collar and some extra toys - I am hoping ‘Groovy Dog’s Pet Shop’ in Cardigan Bay can help us with those.

And so, just like a badly written sounding Spice Girls song, we arrived in Wales as two and we will leave as three. Hopefully, all the people that have said ‘dogs really are the best thing’ and that after Thursday, ‘imagining my life without him will feel inconceivable’ weren’t lying. Time will tell but I suspect they will be 100% right as I am already very excited.

Next week I have TWO exciting things to announce: one is a surprise giveaway, the other is the opening of my shop (paid subscribers get 10% off everything in it!). But for now, I must dash as I have another complimentary hour in the spa again and don’t want to waste a second of my opportunity to sweat into a giant bath alongside strangers.

Yours, resisting the urge to steal the complimentary bath robe,

Powell x

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Ps. A shop sneak peek…

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Hello Powells,

How are you on this fine Wednesday? I’m sat in my local library, which is fast becoming one of my favourite places to sit… albeit, I’m sat on a child’s chair so I will need to see a chiropractor immediately after.

My local library has some impressive knitted artworks on the wall that I’ve long admired. Today, I finally asked the librarian, Mark, who’d made them and I was not expecting the sensational GOSSIP which he told me.

The idea for each artwork was drawn by Mark and passed onto a group of ladies who called themselves Knit & Natter. They would meet in the library once a week to do exactly that, knit… and natter! The Matilda piece took around six months of knitting and nattering, which sounds like a long time but we don’t know the ratio of knitting to nattering - it could have been 90% nat and only 10% knit…

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They knitted four book-themed masterpieces and one Union Jack (which I didn’t photograph because it felt a bit off-brand) but The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is the showstopper: real doors that open and close, and behind the tiny fur coats a miniature Mr Tumnus, a lion, and a lamp-post. All was going well.

Then, the trouble started.

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I assumed it was some kind of knitting-related dispute, but Mark informed me it was actually about paper cups.

I will type that again, in case you thought it was a typo:

PAPER. CUPS.

Apparently, not that I’m one to gossip, one of the group suggested they re-use their paper cups each week for their tea. They wanted to take them home, wash them, dry them on the radiator and bring them back the next week ready to house more tea.

Unfortunately, some disagreed. Especially a nurse in the group, who I assume thought it unhygienic. Tensions rose. Knitting needles were wielded. Cross stitch took on new meaning.

Eventually, the disagreement escalated to such catastrophic proportions that Knit & Natter completely unraveled and all went their separate ways.

Sigh.

Such a shame… And possibly the beginnings of a really good murder mystery novel.*

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A thought did cross my mind: why didn’t they each just bring a mug from home and leave it in the library kitchen? I’m sure there’s an entirely logical reason why that was impossible - I’ll ask Mark next time I see him.

I’m trying to get into the habit of coming here several times a week; either to work, to get a new haul of books, or to pay the gigantic fine that not returning my last haul of books has cost me.

Today’s fine was £10.20.

Unfortunately, I only had a £20 note and Mark, the aforementioned librarian, didn’t have change so he dropped the fee to a fiver. I was very grateful but it didn’t solve the problem as I still only had a £20 note. After a long discussion, we agreed that I would pay the fiver another time.

I will pop the £15 savings in my piggy bank… to pay my inevitable future fines.

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What I like most about a library is it’s one of only two places on planet Earth where it’s socially acceptable not to make eye contact with other humans. A doctor’s waiting room, is probably the only other place: we all know it’s mortifying to be seen at the doctors by someone you know, in case they presume you have an STD or something. Everywhere else you have to interact with people; here I only have to interact with BOOKS!

I hope Heaven is actually a library. Wouldn’t that be brilliant? Then I could stop worrying that there are too many wonderful books to read in one lifetime. I’ll just read the rest when I’m dead.

These are the books I borrowed today, which I envisage will cost me approx. £7 in fines.

Please tell me in the comments whether you have:

1. Read any of these.

2. Doubt I can read all of these in 3 weeks and believe I will have to read some when I get to heaven.

Yours, not in possession of an STD,

Powell x

*Note to self: email agent… or tell Robin Stevens and she can use it in her next Murder Most Unladylike book.

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Hello Powells,

Wednesday here. Probably is for you, too, unless you’re in the farthest corner of the Southern Hemisphere… in which case it’s probably still Tuesday…Contemplating what day of the week it is was not my purpose of writing however, and so… let us move on.

The house is currently without electricity as we are having our ancient fuse board inspected by an electric professional. I have just made a cup of tea the old fashioned way: by heating some water in a pan on a stove that I lit with a match at arms distance in case something exploded. I may soon change into a crinoline petticoat with matching bonnet and waft around the house with a candle to really get into the spirit of the 1800s, .

So far this week I have been unusually chipper! Possible reasons for my good mood:

• The HRT I started 2 weeks ago is kicking in. Thank f***.

• The new brand of oat milk I am road testing is made with genetically modified oats infused with dopamine.

• I have found the sweet spot for my ADHD medication and it is actually working… unlike the first attempt, which made me feel as though I’d downed 273 double-espressos in one sitting and prevented me from sleeping for over 24 hours. Fun!

• The Christmas cards I have been designing are filling me with festive cheer.

• My sinusitis has gone and I can finally go swimming again; so at ease am I in a chlorinated body of water that in a previous life I was either an inflatable buoyancy aid or a sticking plaster.

• I caught a creative bug at my event at Bath Kid Lit Festival on Saturday that left me with an urgent desire to CREATE MORE BOOKS!. It really is the (second) best thing on Earth (the first is HRT and that is not up for debate).

Oh to be in front of an adoring crowd!

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Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration: it was more of a gathering than a crowd, and they were probably three rungs below “adoring” on the Ladder of Worship©. Still, we all had a brilliant time, and my idea of using tiny, mouse-sized envelopes filled with mystery prompts worked a treat.

Luckily (for me) children have tiny hands and four willing volunteers were able to fish out the prompts from the really-quite-tiny-envelopes with no trouble at all! Our prompts were Frog, Sly, Sporty, and Wig.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t whisper a small, silent prayer to the Drawing Gods as I took to the flip chart but I needn’t have feared! The character came together like a dream. I did start a little over-enthusiastically large, meaning I had to draw the feet on a separate sheet of paper BUT perfection was NOT the point.

Behold Haarlem Fred: a basketball-playing, seven-year-old American frog who is afraid of dogs and cats, who walks with a squelchy swagger, and who suffers from a rather unfortunate body odour problem.

I can’t take any credit for these brilliant details; they were all invented by the children in the audience. And what a fine job they did! I’m genuinely considering outsourcing all my future character design to humans under the age of 10 as they clearly know what they’re doing.

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The rest of my week will be spent:

• Finishing my Christmas cards (I REALLY regret not starting them in JULY like other sensible people) and getting them off to print.

• Illustrating envelopes for an Alzheimer Charity auction.

• Writing answers to two interviews.

• Illustrating a present for someone (whose birthday was a month ago - ahem).

• Drawing characters for the next—and final!—Montgomery BonBon book.

• Unpacking my suitcase from last weekend… unless I leave it packed ready for next year’s Bath festival, that would save some time and is worth considering.

I have just been informed by the electric professional that the kettle is back on.

Thank f*** for that.

Yours, in good cheer,

Powell x

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Hello Powells,

I am writing this aboard the (DELAYED by 19 minutes and absolutely heaving) 3.30pm train to Bristol Temple Meads. Once there (providing we arrive, let’s not assume), I will change and board a train to Bath Spa. All being well, I will arrive at my hotel in time for a midnight snack.

Tomorrow at 1pm I will be doing a Marty Moose themed event as part of Bath KidLitFestival and then I will board the 3.31pm train back up north, albeit with two changes: one at Birmingham and one somewhere else, which I hope will become clear nearer the time. It is EXACTLY a 24 hour round-trip: I feel like I am starring in an episode of Kiefer Sutherland’s blockbuster series, 24. I have no bombs to diffuse or terrorist plots to foil, BUT I do have to entertain a library of kids for 45 minutes and teach them how to draw a mouse, so the stakes are still quite high.

I am also an incey wincey bit nervous as I’m trying something new: I will be live drawing and creating a character on the spot, with the help of the audience and their suggestions. Gulp.

If you happen to live in Bath (or know someone who does and want to punish them) you can buy tickets here.

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What else, Powells? A few things, which I will list in random order to keep an element of surprise:

1. Two weeks ago I was struck down with a common cold that, at first felt manageable, but then mutated into something worthy of being turned into a medical thriller movie called *Snotfest, directed by Steven Soderbergh and staring Kate Winslet (as me) and Matt Damon (as Stefan). I’m pleased to say I’m fully recovered but we have moved from one crisis to another: we are now dangerously low on toilet roll because I used it all up instead of buying fancy Kleenex Tissues.

2. When at Derby station earlier I was surprised to find Stefan (my husband!) loitering in the waiting room of Platform 5b. He claims he finished work early but it’s more likely he was attempting to get to Hogwarts and got all the details of how to do so horribly wrong.

3. Last Saturday I dosed myself up on Sudafed and went to Nottingham Playhouse to see Maxine Peake in a tremendous play called The Last Stand of Mary Whitehouse. I can’t remember the last time we went to watch a play and I’d forgotten how much FUN it is. Maxine played Mary and one other male actor (Samuel Barnett) played ALL the other roles. So clever. What I particularly liked was they did all the set changes and costume changes on stage, so I felt included. I hate to be left out of things. It’s finished now sadly, so unless it tours I potentially just whet your appetite for something you’ll never see. Shame.

4. I will end this list with a bang: in less than 4 weeks we will be getting a PUPPY. Yes, I know, what fools we are! His name is Ziggy and he is currently in Wales not doing a lot (lazy). He is a Beddlington Whippet cross and I know for sure it’s going to be chaos. What joy! Naturally, we are underprepared and I have every faith it will remain that way until the date of his collection (and probably beyond).

   

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I haven’t done much drawing to be honest in the last fortnight (too weak to hold a pencil*) but my reading game has been strong. I’ve joined the GoodReads autumn reading challenge and I’m trying to read 12 books between now and Christmas.

Books I’ve enjoyed:

Hollowpox: The Hunt for Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend. I’ve never read a trilogy back-to-back before but I read the first of these three Nevermore books one after the other. Plot is too complex to explain in full, but general gist is: Magic. Adversity. A talking bull. Dragons. Evil. A giant cat. I was delighted to discover there’s five more books to come and the next in the series is already out. FIVE STARS. IMO this book should have some illustrations, I would be happy with a few full page plates. Someone speak to someone and make this happen for the reprint.

Conn of the Dead by Dave Rudden, illustrated by Ali Al Amine. A belter of a book. 20,000 words-ish so you can do it in one sitting if you have the time to indulge. Short chapters for kids (best for 9+). Set in Ireland about the accidental unearthing of a mind-controlling zombie who has been dead for 100 years. Brilliant. FIVE STARS. More to come in the series; I await eagerly.

Now I’m reading Varjax Paw by SF Said, SENSATIONALLY illustrated by Dave McKean. I’ve only just started it but already I feel certain it’s going to be worthy of praise. Written from the perspective of a cat! A CAT! Genius. SF Said’s books are just so darn unique.

Every book gets 5 stars because I know how hard it is to make them. If I don’t think a book is five stars I probably just won’t mention it. Or I’ll start a book club and do it properly.

I need to muster the courage to find a toilet on the train (it’s more terrifying than doing an event for 300 kids). I should probably also check that my case wasn’t stolen in Birmingham, otherwise tomorrow’s event will be lacking in props.

Yours, hurtling to Bath in minor discomfort 25 minutes behind schedule,

Powell x

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*I exaggerate…

Footnote: I made it to Bath with my suitcase… incase you were concerned.

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Hello Powells,

This (mid) week, despite being on a tight deadline, I went up north for 33 hours. What is the meaning of this, I hear you exclaim. Are you mad?! you ask in a rhetorical fashion. The answer would be yes, clearly I am. But I also had tickets to see a favourite New Orleans singer of mine in Chester so, I put my deadline aside, put gas in the tank, my foot to the floor and sped up there with Stefan at my side.

The 33 hours elapsed as follows:

Hours 1-3 ~ Mostly driving. Stopped off at country pub for a ‘cheap’ dinner. Stef had steak and ale pie, I had tandoori chicken. One drink each. Total cost £60. I assumed we had been incorrectly charged for an entire extra cow but apparently the bill was correct. Gone are the days of ‘cheap dinners in pubs’.

Hours 3-4 ~ Arrived at parents house. Made conversation. Drank peppermint tea.

Hours 4-11 ~ Sleeping. Nothing to report other than the bed frame squeaks every time you breathe but the pillows are exceptional so can’t complain.

Hours 11-12 ~ Clean teeth, body and cereal bowl after using. Leave house for first rendezvous.

Hours 12-14 ~ Meet86 year old auntie Shirley in a cafe called Hannah’s, confusing as I have a REAL friend called Hannah who owns a cafe in the area but it isn’t called Hannah’s. I am momentarily perplexed and unsure where I am meant to be going. Auntie confirms her location. I find (fake) Hannah’s cafe and take a seat. It is as hot as New Orleans inside the cafe and I regret wearing a vest. I have two pots of tea and chat lots.

Hours 14-15 ~ Auntie and I bump into Stefan, who is sat in the window of a more modern cafe around the corner (which serves decent coffee - his words, not mine) and has an indoor temperature more on a par with Wales. We go in. Chat some more. I am suddenly overcome with hunger and am forced to buy a cake.

Hours 15-16 ~ Second rendezvous. Visit my pals Jordan and Dan in The West Kirby Bookshop. They’ve recently moved to a bigger space and put in a gargantuan effort to get it all ready. I had the pleasure of being given a tour of the premises when it was still a building site (without copper pipes - long story) and so I was astounded to see it now, in all its brand spanking glory. It really is spectacular and I insist you visit. Naturally, I bought (too many) books:

I DEEPLY regret not buying this:

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Hours 16-17 ~ Pit-stop at parent’s house for a tuna sandwich before driving to Chester. Nothing to report on the drive.

Hours 17-18 ~ Mooched. Mourned for the closure of the indie bookstore I used to buy my Flower Fairies books from as a child. Stopped for a drink. I chose a glass of something sparkly and fizzy to match my natural god-given demeanour.

Hours 18-20 ~ Went for dinner at an Italian called Fatso’s, or something similar. Menu was huge. I short-circuited over my choice but the waitress saw my distress and helped me by breaking it down into 3 multiple choice questions categorised as: Starter, Main and Dessert. In the end I ate a caprese salad followed by meatballs and one scoop of hazelnut ice-cream. I was impressed with my appetite. Must be all the swimming I’m doing.

Hours 20-24 ~ Musical repertoire. It began with a female singer called Zoe Bestel who I liked very much as she laughed as she sang and played a ukulele. Next up was a folk signer called Caitlin Gillian who sang songs about hares had a banjo and was accompanied by a violinist. I drew a few pages of hares as she sang and then dropped my pencil when I was clapping and had to stop. No pencil = no drawing. Last up was Sabine McCalla who had come all the way from New Orleans to sing in a church filled with approx 13 people drinking warm wine. I enjoyed it immensely, no idea what she thought.

Hours 24-24.5 ~ Drove home. Nothing to report other than it was dark.

Hours 24.5-30 ~ Sleeping. Nothing to report other than I lost an ear plug. May have swallowed it.

Hours 30-33 ~ Drove back to Derbyshire in heavy traffic but thankfully no rain. Stopped twice: once for a wee in some free public toilets in Whaley Bridge (clean, natural light, decent loo roll. Toilet rating 5 out of 5) and then once again at the new GAILS which has opened in Buxton. Gails is a favourite London cafe eatery of mine because, despite being a chain, they do great pastries and regulate their indoor temperature so it is pleasant and not boiling hot like the surface of the sun. This time I had no problem choosing from the sizeable menu and delighted in eating a pain au chocolate the size of a small dog, whilst drinking tea from a pot.

Hour 33 ~ Arrived home to… BOOKS! My online book haul from Tor Freeman, my Pen Powell Pal from last week had arrived and there was a surprise package of Polish (?) co-ed’s of the 3rd Montgomery BonBon I illustrate. Made more tea and as kettle was boiling regretted not buying a second pain au choc. Wasted no time getting straight into the studio where I have remained ever since.

Don’t forget in approx 7 hours (5pm UK time) I will be live on Substack potentially drawing frogs with Pen Powell Pal Kyle Beaudette. I will try not to shout (why is my voice so LOUD?!)

Pen Powell Pal Kyle Beaudette

Yours, squinting at the light at the end of the tunnel,

Powell x

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Hello Powell’s

I am writing this in my garden, sat cross legged on freshly cut grass, which is about as comfortable as sitting on a bed of upturned nails. I am grateful to be here: Yesterday, I almost froze to death in a glorified field (also known as Regents Park, London), whilst eating Olive, Feta and Pink Peppercorn Tortilla Chips from M&S* (dry, but not inedible).

The reason for my venture to the capital was the Annual Kidlit Illustrator Picnic organised by pal Steven Lenton. It happens once a year, (the clue is in the name) and it’s always a well attended affair. 90% of the attendees are stuffed olives from Marks and Spencers*, the remaining 10% are illustrators and authors behaving like they’re at a speed dating event: everyone tries to make polite conversation with as many people as possible, whilst simultaneously trying not to choke on dry cocktail sausages. I spoke to lots of people! Admittedly, some may not have been picnic-goers at all, but were simply trying to cut through the park on their way to Marks & Spencer.* Regardless, I would have had a lovely time had I not been lied to…

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Not by Steven, he’s perfectly trustworthy, but by all weatherpersons in existence who decreed that Saturday 16th August was going to be 26 degrees celsius. In my opinion, that temperature is tropical and so I dressed accordingly. I selected my favourite lightweight jumpsuit in sage green stripes from my Edwardian chest of drawers and paired it with a fetching sleeveless embroidered gilet which, incidentally, garnered many compliments. Having previously lived in London for 20+ years I’m in the know when it comes to footwear and so I left the absolutely-stunning-but-would-rip-my-feet-to-shreds-before-I’ve-made-it-out-of-Kings-Cross-Station-bright-orange-clogs at home, and instead opted for socks and trainers. I packed two bottles of factor 50 sunscreen and my roll-up sun hat. What I did not pack was a jumper, a coat, a bobble hat, scarf, or any thermal item of clothing that would have kept me from feeling the icy cold wind that whipped through the trees and blew our cocktail sausages into a nearby game of rounders.

When I started to turn blue and lose the feeling in my bare arms, I decided enough was enough: No picnic is worth perishing over. After some hasty goodbyes, my pal Fiona Lumbers and I found a warmer spot on a slab of heat-retaining concrete and thawed ourselves out by drinking boiling hot cups of tea.

To my absolute shock and surprise a lady on my return train home spent a great deal of time conversing with her pal on how lovely the weather had been. I gave this a great deal of thought and the only explanation I can think of is that the pair must have spent the day on a completely different planet. Venus perhaps, or somewhere equally as balmy.

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This morning I felt too traumatised to venture outside but, after a few hours in the studio working on the artwork for Marty Moose 2, I felt emboldened to wrap up warm and open the door. One thing lead to another and here I am, sat on the grass developing a bum rash through my long johns.

This week is shaping up to be jam-packed: my Marty Moose deadline is now within sight and whilst I’m not behind, I’m also not ahead so that’s my top priority. Also on my to-do list is:

• Ink the cover for Swifts 3

• An acupuncture appointment

• Important: Feed cats!

• Call Mr Partload and arrange for him to steal your parents cast iron bench and bring it here

• Remember: the cast iron furniture I bought from eBay (for an absolute steal) is being delivered on Tuesday

• Important: Do some Substack lives

• Brush and style my wig

• Go swimming x 4

• Deliver a batch of artwork for Marty Moose 2 (so your publisher knows you’ve actually done some)

• Alter the crotch on my rhinestone jumpsuit ready for next weekend

• Important: Go live with the delightful Tor Freeman Thursday 21st at 4pm, UK time!

I am very excited about the last to-do and so should you be. I hope you can join us.

Tor Freeman & Me!

Yours, with an itchy bum,

Powell x

Ps. Not just any cats, two cats owned by a friend who is holidaying in Devon.

*This postcard is in no way sponsored by, or affiliated with, Marks and Spencers… but I am open to discussions or free Olive tortilla chips.

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Hello Powells,

This is an absolute bumper letter so I’m wasting no time getting straight into it. Make a cuppa and strap in…

Earlier this week, a new paying subscriber asked about my process for illust…

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Hello Powells,

I will cut to the chase: this week I have done nothing that I intended to do, wanted to do, or that bears any relation to making books. Instead, my week was derailed by a long list of mind-numbingly boring actions and ADHD distractions. It has been not that fun, actually:

• Took my car for an MOT (this inexplicably took all day).

• Went for three swims in new goggles that have a dangerous level of suction.

• Reconciled 147 business transactions.

• Ate a whole bag of chocolate covered Brazil nuts (then felt sick).

• Caught a spider that was hiding in my shower cap.

• Needed resuscitating when I received a tax bill for 8 grand.

• Cancelled subscriptions to apps I shouldn’t have bought in the first place.

• Spent 3 hours re-categorising Monzo transactions (pointless).

• Breathed a sigh of relief when the tax bill turned out to be a clerical error.

• Caught a spider that was hiding in my pyjamas (possibly the same spider that was in my shower cap).

• Took delivery of a 7 meter ladder.

• Dead-headed roses at 5am because I couldn’t sleep.

• Made some aubergine soup that was absolutely disgusting.

And that’s it. Four days - gone. Poof! Disappeared forever. I have drawn only ONCE in my sketchbook this week - pitiful. Here it is:

🎙️Special guest announcement

Next week, I will be live with my first guest - graphic novelist Whitney Gardner on Friday 4th July, 4pm GMT / 11am EST.*

Join Let's Draw with Whitney!

*Replay available afterwards if you can’t join live.

Whitney will be coming on to draw and chat about her new book, Free Piano, Not Haunted, which publishes on July 1st. It’s a big-hearted, touching, and spooky coming-of-age story about a young aspiring songwriter who forms a ghostly partnership with the pop star who haunts her secondhand piano. VERY COOL!

Fun facts about Whitney:

She lives in Victoria, British Columbia. Her favorite color is yellow. She is the author of the YA novels You’re Welcome, Universe and Chaotic Good, as well as creator of Fake Blood and Long Distance. When she isn’t drawing, she’s rolling twenty-sided dice (which I didn’t even know was a thing so I will be asking her about THAT!).

Yours truly,

Powell

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Hello Powells!

I am writing this after watering my garden, a task I do almost every morning. If you lived next door you would be able to watch me—likely with some amusement—wrestling my 50 foot hosepipe up and along the meandering paths, whilst also trying to drink a cup of tea. If I am not blaspheming about the disobedience of the hose pipe, I’m f’ing and blinding about the brazenness of the slugs—chomping their way through my Petunias—or the cat. I have never seen this cat but we are enemies. I can just imagine it now, swanning around like it owns the place every night with a smug look on it face as it takes a huge dump on my seedlings or massacres a pigeon on my lawn. Bastard.

Monday and Tuesday I was away doing two primary school visits which couldn’t have been more different. At one, I felt like the sole steward at a Millwall v West Ham football match trying to gain control of an unruly crowd of approximately 300 who barely knew I was there. It did wonders for my confidence. At the other, I felt like the Messiah: there were less than ten pupils, a bell tent filled with cushions, a book stall, a barbecue, a Falconer who was giving flying displays and had a baby owl and a Harrier Hawk, and the children drew on paper more expensive than I use as a professional illustrator. I think if I’d have asked, they would have fed me grapes and fanned me with a peacock feather. Confidence restored.

✏️ On the drawing board…

Marty Moose is on the drawing board this week and will be for many weeks to come. It can’t show you much but here’s sneaky look at one of the spreads I’ve been inking. It’s a beast although not as beastly as the one that follows it. I only have myself to blame.

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I am delighted to announce the arrival of baby newts in the pond. I will send flowers and pray none of them are eaten by night-time predators. Congratulations Mr & Mrs Newt!

Inspired by the newts, I’ve started swimming again. Not in the pond, obviously. I have concluded there’s a direct link between the moment I stopped swimming and the moment my life spiralled into chaos and my waistline started to expand. The first swim is always the hardest (is that a Cat Stevens song?) but on Wednesday I managed 40 lengths in leaky goggles, stuffed into a swimming costume that is two sizes too small. Afterwards I felt so elated I danced in the shower.

✏️ What I’ve drawn this week

Every morning I wake early and—after performing the daily washing rituals that society expects of me—I head straight to my studio, open my sketchbook and start drawing. I’m still finding my feet after 3 months off, figuring out a new rhythm for my days but it feels as though this morning sketchbook routine is here to stay. If you’re interested in cultivating a similar routine and want some tips, listen to You’re a Better Artist Than You Think You Are ~ Episode 2, Season 3.

Here’s what I’ve drawn since Wednesday:

Yours truly,

Powell x

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Hello Powells,

I have just collected two new sketchbooks from the local Leisure Centre. Why they ended up there I’ve no idea. Had I wanted to draw whilst simultaneously taking an aerobics class I would have called my therapist, as that’s ridiculous and would surely indicate a loss in sanity. Maybe the courier was late for a spin class - who knows. All I know is I wasted 2 days of my life tracking them down. The sketchbooks are from Basenotes: one of them is HUGE and has tracing paper in-between each page, which is very fancy and provides a fun opportunity to add extra drawings on top of what’s underneath. I’m inspired thinking of Oliver Jeffers’ There’s a Ghost in this House Book or Beatrice Alemagna’s Things That Go Away Book. I am looking forward to drawing BIG things.

Talking of BIG things... Ever since I saw an exhibition of Alison Lambert’s BIG faces I have wanted to scale up some of my work. I decided I simply MUST have an easel to do this and so began a methodical trawl of second-hand furniture shops within a 10 mile radius. I eventually found a table top easel in good condition and reasonably priced at £18. I made my purchase—along with a set of folding bookshelves and a tin with a space rocket painted on the top—and immediately set off for home, eager to begin drawing BIG. I was feeling triumphant until I unfolded the easel. The pitch roof of my studio makes it absolutely categorically impossible to erect a table top easel unless I move all the furniture into the middle of the room every time I want to use it. Which I do not. Easel now lives on floor by radiator:

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On the drawing board…

I’m thrilled to say, as I’m sure my clients will be to hear, that ACTUAL work has commenced on the drawing board. ☠️ Fans of The Swifts you will be delighted to hear work has begun the third book in the series - I sent off sketches of the (rather amazing!) cover today to the wonderful designer, Andrea. 🐭 Fans of Marty Moose you will be eggcited to know I re-commenced work on book 2 earlier this week. I can reveal absolutely nothing about either project though, which makes for a rather anti-climatic end to this paragraph.

Other happenings…

In an effort to add pockets of relaxation into my studio days (as suggested by my doctor) I decided to stretch my legs in the garden with a cup of tea on Monday. As is usual with a neurodivergent brain, one thing lead to another: almost immediately I forgot about my tea and began behaving like Edward Scissorhands, furiously cutting back bind weed with a large pair of long-handled secateurs. I was making good headway until I cut through my neighbours telephone wire.

And so it was that a relaxing 5 minute break in the garden cost me just shy of £100 in electrician’s fees. Two days later, I’m can report the bind weed has made excellent progress—growing back almost to its former glory—and the mug of half-drunk tea is still in the greenhouse.

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✏️ Doodles of FUN

I have drawn every morning this week as part of my new daily routine. I tend to draw on a theme and this week I made a series of drawings called: Cats on Walls or Wearing Shawls. Some yet to be coloured. I think I’ll make a calendar of the same title.

That just about rounds-up this week.

Until next time.

Powell x

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Hello Powells,

I am watching the snooker final. Did you know I love snooker? I have for as long as I remember. I used to watch it with my gran on a black and white television and now I find it soothes my nervous system. This is just the tonic I need as the doctor has signed me off work for another 6 weeks at least. Outwardly, I look fine. Quite healthy, probably. Rested for the first time in a decade. But my insides haven’t caught up with my outsides. My nervous system is still behaving like a teenager at a Harry Styles concert: overreactive and slightly hysterical. And so the doctor has prescribed more rest and more Beta-Blockers, whilst I have prescribed myself fortnightly acupuncture, weekly therapy and daily supplements. I even bought a pill box with the days of the week written on it to prove I’m serious. The only work commitments I have scheduled are 4 days of school visits in my hometown next week because I couldn’t bear to cancel them and disappoint CHILDREN. Other than that the studio door remains closed, metaphorically speaking that is, it’s actually open so our resident woodlice can roam freely.

The weather has been glorious this last week and spent all my time in the garden fretting that I was either over-watering or under-watering my new plants, which all looked like they were dying a slow and painful death. Especially the Begonias. Our gardener came to the rescue and it turns out it was the 27 degrees of sunshine in April that was slowly scorching them to death - nothing to do with me. Luckily the sun has gone away now and, seeing as this is England, it probably won’t be back again this year. Hurrah! The plants will survive, just like Gloria Gaynor did.

I’ll end with some things I’ve drawn this week. You will see I am enjoying using my jumbo graphite Koh-i-noor pencils again, specifically the 6B and 8B. They’re so smooth to draw with and I love the jumbo size - less room for detail and perfectionism. Here’s what I drew with mine:

Yours, internally overreactive and hysterical,

Powell x

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Morning Powells,

I am on one of the tightest deadlines f my life. So tight that I don’t have time to go back and insert the ‘o’ into the previous sentence which I accidentally omitted. Usually, on deadlines this tight I am like a machine, able to work at a fast pace relentlessly until it is done. And so on Monday I sat down to tackle the 159 pages that lay un-artworked before me and flipped on my power switch and readied myself to crack on. But the power only came on intermittently, and instead if feeling motivated I felt anxious and overwhelmed. I must be malfunctioning I thought when the clock reached 7pm and I’d barely achieved anything, tomorrow will be better...

On Tuesday, I was restless both in mind and body. In a panic, I called off a trip to London for a book launch. I lay awake most of the night worrying but that did give me chance to read half of Murder by Narwhal by Alex T Smith, which I am very much enjoying.

Hump day. Not going to London. Surely I’ll get loads of work done?! Total outage from 3pm.

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Thursday. I photoshopped myself into a photo of the book launch that I didn’t attend with surprisingly successful results (see above), and then the fuse box blew around tea-time. Rising anxiety in the night.

On Friday I called the National Grid*. They pointed out that maybe my circuit board was overworked and recommended I manually shut off the power for the rest of the day. I thought this was sound advice and so I powered down, cleaned out the sock drawer and spent some time in the garden looking at clouds. Tried not to panic.

That brings us to the present day. Saturday 15th March. 8.34am. Anxiety rattles in my ribcage and I can hear procrastination knocking at the door but I have popped a sign up that says ‘I’M NOT HOME’. Fingers crossed it works. I will soon be powering up the kettle, and then hopefully myself…

Powell x

*My long-suffering agent.

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Hi Powells,

I sat down to write to you twice last week but my brain wasn’t capable of producing words, let alone sentences, so I respected its cries for rest and ate pies instead.

February was an Absolute. Whirlwind. I went on a book tour for Marty Moose First Class Mischief which started with me gallivanting around London* wearing mouse ears, before I trotted off to Manchester* for a week of school visits and then rounded off the tour at the Waterstones Children’s Book Festival in Lincoln*. Two kids puked into a bucket and another had an accident whilst sat on their schoolroom floor. Nothing that couldn’t be mopped up with a few sheets of blue kitchen roll though so I think we can consider the tour a success. I came straight back to the studio, opened the door and was immediately swallowed whole by an intense Montgomery BonBon deadline. I somehow managed to do approximately 3 weeks’ worth of work in a mere 10 days and to everyone’s surprise delivered the job early! I celebrated this miraculous feat at 10pm on Wednesday 26th February 2025 with a homemade margarita and two stale cashew nuts.

Buy Marty Moose First Class Mischief

I feel rather exhausted by February to be honest, and could do with a sit-down but that’s not scheduled until April 12th…

I only have until April 11th to artwork Marty Moose The Great Stamp-ede (aka. book 2). It’s rather*** a tight deadline, made even tighter by the fact that tomorrow I am travelling north for a few days of World Book Day** events with my pals at West Kirby Bookshop and, at the end of March, I am swanning off to Italy for the Bologna Children’s Book Fair. On April 5th I also turn 46 (or 47, I can’t remember) and I guess I should make time to blow a candle out and celebrate. Probably with another margarita and more stale cashews.

I think it’s safe to predict that March will be just as much of a whirlwind as February but that it will probably contain more gelato. I will update you in April.

I was going to share my new love for fountain pens today. BUT I’ve just had a notification about a Teams meeting that I’d absolutely forgotten about and which started minus 2 minutes ago…

I suggest we all crack on with Tuesday and I’ll save that riveting letter about pens for later this week!

Yours,

Powell x

*These are all places in the UK, located specifically in England.

**World Book Day is happening on 6th March in the UK. I don’t know why it’s not celebrated on the same day worldwide, I assume it’s just to confuse us.

***Horrendously tight, make no mistake about it.

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Dear Powells,

Marty Moose First Class Mischief is officially published in the UK TODAY! Available as a paperback and an audiobook (narrated by yours truly).

To celebrate, I am giving away a signed copy—along with a tiny letter from Marty and some Little Ditch Post Office goodies—in my February lucky dip. 🍀 You must be subscribed to enter. The winner will be announced next week.

My publisher made some fun activity sheets for your kids (or for yourself!), which you can download below for free.

Marty Moose Activity Sheets

2.91MB ∙ PDF file

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Buy Marty Moose

I am so proud of this book.

It has been such a long journey to get here, and a lot of the work I’ve had to do has been inner-work. And it was hard! But after years of struggling to find my authenticity Marty Moose really feels like… ME.

I've already been blown away by the response to the first book and, dare I be so bold, whiskers crossed this is just the beginning. If you get your paws on a copy, I sincerely hope that Marty and his friends make you laugh, and fill your hearts with joy and jam. 🍓

Yours, in deepest gratitude,

Powell x

P.S. Making books takes A LOT of people A LOT of work. These people have been instrumental in their efforts to bring Marty Moose into the world:

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