I’m an artist, writer and poet who loves to bring alive the unseen, the unknown, the unreal.
I write flash fiction and short stories inspired by folklore and the supernatural. I enjoy finding new perspectives, as well as focussing on female characters with their own story to tell. Be it an old hag or gloomy ghost, I love finding their voice.
I have stories published in New Writing Scotland, Northwords Now, Crow and Cross Keys, Soor Ploom Press, Flash Flood Journal and a piece of audio fiction on the Alternative Stories and Fake Realities Podcast. I’ve had a piece of my writing transformed into beautiful music as part of a project to celebrate the centenary of George Mackay Brown. My story was also shortlisted for the Edinburgh Flash Fiction Award.
My first love will always be to draw. My main artworks are all about creatures from trolls to dragons to teeny-tiny imps! I work in pencil, ink and watercolour, as well as drawing digitally. I also have begun experimenting with charcoal and pastels. My heart remains, however, with doodling mischievous goblins.
I live in beautiful, windswept Orkney, after growing up in Newbury, Berkshire and spending some of my teenage years in Cumbria. Orkney is truly a magical place that I’m very lucky to call home. These islands never fail to inspire creativity from their rich folklore and history to their stunning views and beaches.
I’m chronically ill with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), M.E. and other disabilities. I’m constantly learning to adapt to continue writing and drawing as much as I am able. I spend most days snuggled up, on the sofa or in bed, with my little dog by my side which suits him just fine.
I love art, books, cake and animals – alpacas, pigs, goats, sheep and a semi-wild rook call our farm home. I have a lifelong habit of daydreaming which is very handy for thinking up new stories to write and creatures to draw! You can follow me on Instagram and Facebook to see my latest creations…
My sealskin has a song.
Song of the Sealskin, Ellen Forkin
It sings through the stone of the walls, the stone of the floors, the wood of the table, the peats of the fire and the iron of the cooking pot. It sings through the snores of my human husband and through the voices of my half-human children. How it sings to me and no amount of human love can hush it.