As I look back on my first full year of authoring, who’d have thought the feelings of discontent that precipitated my transition could lead to such fulfilment? Wishing to be somewhere else led me here, to this place. But it’s not the place I thought I was looking for, as I haven’t returned to England yet. The place turned out to be an occupation.

This occupation, this writer’s life, allows me to live wherever I want, even if it’s only in my imagination, and that has made living where I reside so much easier. Rather than seeing where I am as second best, I can focus on the joy of writing from wherever I am. The thrill and the freedom of putting visions of home on the page have been liberating. So, though hireth is still present, it’s not present in a stifling way, a distracting way, an I’m-wasting-my-life-somewhere-I-shouldn’t-be way. Hireth is now productive and useful and stimulating. It’s marvellous.

Marvellous.

A word I haven’t used in a long time.  One doesn’t talk about marvellous SUVs, or marvellous weather, or marvellous baseball games in the United States. These things are awesome, not marvellous. Marvellous is a good British sentiment. I catch more and more British words and sayings flowing from my mouth and keyboard now; buried deep for almost thirty years but becoming familiar again. I feel more native, relishing the opportunity to reconnect with my homeland, both linguistically and emotionally. Hireth leads home. Old connections rise to the surface. But not in a desperate way anymore.

I feared at the beginning of this journey, I may just be chasing old feelings, friends, lifestyles, and dreams. That maybe I’d be disappointed as I peered through the scratches and dents of thirty-year-old rose-tinted glasses and realised the need for a new prescription. Turns out my sense of loss and longing, of hireth, hasn’t led just to a search for the past. The real highlight of this first full year authoring has been establishing a new future.

Feedback from readers tells me I’ve tapped into their world in some way. So we are now connected in this new future.This future includes writers, fellow ex pats, Anglophiles, pony lovers, Exmoor lovers, and people who didn’t know they loved ponies or Exmoor, but discovered a new passion in “Dunster’s Calling.” And it definitely includes my fellow hireth sufferers, many of whom have told me they didn’t know the word for their feelings but fully understand the word now. I didn’t know I would find all these kindred spirits. I live each day with every inhabitant of this new world, with great relish and much appreciation. I owe hireth so much.

I would have missed it all if hireth hadn’t pushed me into this new reality. I’d have missed playing with ponies on Exmoor and talking with Sylvia in Scotland about the North Berwick Ponies. I’d have missed the fabulous Exmoor pony community as a whole. They have embraced Dunster as one of their own.

I’d have missed Natalie in Spain, the first to like a photo or add a comment to my Facebook postings, which begs the question: when does she sleep as there’s a huge time difference between Wisconsin and Spain? I’d have missed June in Seattle, a British ex pat living the American dream, but wondering if she made the right decision. And Rodney, a fellow author, who shared his story about moving back to England after fifty years in the US in my August blog. He keeps me grounded with realistic expectations as I plan my own repatriation. I’d have missed Kelly in Alice Springs, a second cousin I lost track of decades ago, who popped up again thanks to the miracle of social media and a love of reading all things English. I’d have missed so many of you.

I’d also have missed the reviews of “Dunster’s Calling” on Amazon and Goodreads. All of them encourage and validate my efforts. Many are complete strangers to me, such as the reader in Australia, known only by her review name, Caroline. I marvel at how Caroline found me in this sea of books and authors, struggling to swim against the tidal wave of new publications. It is incredibly difficult to get reviews. I’m thrilled with each one. That a stranger so far away took the time to comment on my work is marvellous. Movingly marvellous.

I’d have missed out on the professional development too: my writing group, Tuesdays with Story, the editors and book cover designers, and formatters and conference speakers and website designers who have all contributed to my joy in this new world.

I hear from people who didn’t know they had hireth, but now understand their condition. I hear from people who’ve never heard of Exmoor but who now feel a connection strong enough to plan visits. I hear from people who are planning to return home, wherever that is for them, and those who’ve found new homes that speak to them more deeply than their birthplace. Sharing our stories makes me feel like I’m home. With family. With friends. With kindred spirits.

So, is home a published novel, a website, and an author Facebook page? If you’ve never felt the need to write, that notion will seem trite. And I know my pull towards England won’t abate. But for one who felt something was missing for so long, this new “writer’s home” is … marvellous.

Happy New Year.