In Praise of Low Tide

I grew up in Whitstable, Kent, about a three-minute bike ride from the sea.

For some indigenous folk, Whitstable is a proud member of the Norf Kenn Cose where the unspoken rule of leevin’ ou’ ‘ard consonance is a way of life, innit?

My mother, an elocution and speech therapist, often despaired as I absorbed the Whitstable ‘Oi’ mixing as I did with all and sundry, from the posh end of Chestfield - pronounced with a definite t, f and d - to Whitstable town centre, where such luxuries were deemed unnecessary.

That, and an American father with his soft Kentuckian accent, left me, vocally, closer to Greenland (!) than Washington DC or London. 

We absorb our environments, and if we’re not exactly chameleons or shape-shifters, their deposits in us are long-lasting and emerge in our writing, in the content and characters we invent for poetry or novels. 

Low tide in Whitstable is a thing of beauty. The mudflats clear the sea back about half a mile from shore every six hours, exposing red and green seaweeds, various shellfish, crabs and intriguing flotsam and jetsam, and the unmistakable sea aroma. The God-given tides form an almost unnoticeable rhythm, like a ticking clock. They recede into the background, and, if you live by the sea, you don’t worry; the tide timetable is stitched into your bones like sunrise and sunset. 

So, yes, when as writers we find ourselves at low tide, we shouldn’t worry. In fact, low tide is a gift. A rest from the frenetic creativity that can course through our veins at other times, pinning us to the desk, making our necks hurt, our eyes ache, and our wrists freeze, as we eschew the wisdom of taking regular breaks, stretching, shaving, or breathing. 

Low tide is a time to remove one’s shoes and feel the mud ooze between the toes. It’s a time of simple pleasures, when the treasure that has always been there is revealed: the next confrontation, a character’s new facial gesture, or a deep edit, giving space for the hidden to be revealed.

By the time this post is published, my first novel, The Bait Digger, will be available on Amazon/KDP either as an ebook or a paperback. It’s a historical spy novel set in 1796, and the opening scene is low tide on the mudflats in Whitstable. 

[Please take a risk, buy it read it, enjoy it…and write an honest review for Amazon…and please send me any feedback for this aspiring and rookie writer]

I started writing this post because I am in a writing low tide. I have no words. Blogs have dried up. Poems also. But I’m not looking at this as writers’ block, just low tide. It’ll take as long as it takes, but the tide will turn. 

John Stevens 

www.unlessaseed.com

The Bait Digger (2026)    and   When The Rabbis Cry (2016)