Nature’s Voices: Celebrating the Longlist of the Wild Muse Nature Writing Prize
Stories of Renewal, Healing, and Connection with the Natural World
‘Each entry reveals a unique perspective on how nature shapes our identities and enriches our lives.’
The entries for the Wild Muse Nature Writing prize weren’t just impressive - they were transformative! The longlist has been compiled by myself and wordsmith Lucia Morciano and we both agreed that reading these pieces has dramatically impacted our relationship both to ourselves and nature. We were also profoundly moved by the vulnerability in so many of the entries, as well as how well the entrants to this competition were able to convey their own unique experience of the natural world.
I’VE READ MANY LONGLISTS in the past, and often been hit by that squeeze of disappointment on not seeing my name included. Now, having been on the other side, I have a totally different perspective on writing competitions. It’s tempting to assume that (because your name isn’t on the list) you aren’t good enough, your entry wasn’t up to scratch, and other variations on the theme that you don’t have what it takes. But as Lucia and I talked about the nearly two hundred entries, what I realised is how close it can be.
There were some pieces we thought were terrific, but didn’t make the longlist because at the end of the day we had to choose writers who best navigated the theme. As well as this decisive factor, we were also looking for something unique. For example, where we came across multiple versions of the same theme, we felt only one from each category could rightly make the longlist.
We were also focusing on how well the pieces enabled us to connect to someone else’s way of being in nature. We were looking for writing that conveyed a message, perhaps even a much-needed message, for the time we find ourselves in.
As I worked my way through the entries, I began to sort them into folders. There were those I enjoyed reading, but felt they wouldn’t make the longlist. The smallest number of pieces ended up in this folder. I then had a worthy folder for those pieces that were truly stunning, which I suspected I’d need to come back to. This was the largest folder. Finally, I had a longlist folder, which ended up with three times the number of entries that I could allow! Hopefully, you can now see how close it really was. Because of this, I have decided to spend the next several months celebrating pieces that didn’t make the longlist. We’ll be publishing some of our favourite lines each week on the Wild Muse Instagram account, as well as in my weekly Substack posts so do keep an eye out!
For those final twenty writers who did make the longlist, I will now be passing your work to Literary Agent Sarah Williams who will firstly compile a shortlist, which I will announce here on Sunday 17th November.
The top three winning pieces will be announced on Sunday 1st December.
It will be helpful to hear from the longlisted writers in the comments below. Let us know what this means to you, and what your inspiration for the piece was.
I am so grateful to everyone who entered and made this first year of the Wild Muse Nature Writing Prize such a wonderful experience! Thank you for sharing your unique voices and perspectives, and for your courage. Each and every entry was a reminder of the meanginful connections we can share with nature.
As always, wishing you creative contentment,
Gabriela, tree goddess
THE LONGLIST IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER
‘A Love Letter to a Special Place’
by Jacqui Hitt
‘Whenever I cast my thoughts to the wind or water, I get a response. One that calms and provides clarity of thought. This place is a spirit guide of sorts…I swear it knows me better than I know myself.’
I found this heartfelt reflection on a beloved coastal place that has profoundly shaped the narrator’s life to be incredibly moving. I loved the themes of freedom, introspection and renewal. I also felt that in reading this piece I too had made regular visits to this coastal place, revelling in how the description brought a sense of grounding, inspiration and spiritual connection to me as I read.
‘A Tlingit Woman Comes Home’
by Kelsey Breseman
‘There is a universe of mosses just on the crackling bark of this one hemlock’s base. This one is feathered, the shape of raven’s down. This one, tufted, worn shag carpet like an old home. Here, taut strands that look brittle, by surprise me with their soft pliability between my fingers.’
This was a gorgeous exploration of a Tlingit woman’s transformative journey of reconnecting with her cultural roots and inner self through a summer internship in Alaska. It was moving to read of the ways she found healing and inspiration in the natural landscape, Tlingit culture, and creative work.
‘And it Just Let Her Breathe’
by Teresa Allen
‘She lay cushioned and hidden by the long stems that tickle her skin as they gently wave in the breeze. Pop of neon buttercups sprinkled in the mix bend her mouth into a faint smile as the earth cradles her nestling body.’
This was a short but mighty piece where the narrating voice finds solace in the quiet embrace of nature by simply breathing and surrendering to the wisdom and tranquillity that the earth, water and trees impart. Sublime.
‘Belonging in a Bottle’
by Rebecca Fisher
‘…what if I might encourage you to bottle up a joyful moment with nature instead? To connect you to something bigger, tethering you to that moment, like a thread of sparkly autumn spider web. What would you choose to help soothe you? Would you capture the ethereal airborne dance of a starling murmuration? Hold on to the comfort and freedom of the never-stay-the-same clouds? Or contain how it feels to float on your back, blurring the edges between you and the sea?’
A truly unique piece about finding a sense of belonging and healing in nature, especially when traditional sources of comfort fall short, by metaphorically ‘bottling’ moments and feelings drawn from the natural world.
‘Can the dandelion clocks speak? Or, Three Encounters of Finding my Voice in Nature’
by Lynne Wyness
‘I am walking alongside a hedgerow, when I remember the work of postcolonial theorist Spivak with her book, Can the Subaltern Speak? I wonder what might happen if I invert the question and ask, can this woman speak? Can I speak? The hedgerow replies:
Can the tiny bluebells speak, hidden in the verdure?
[oh yes, they sing out so beautifully]
Can the green ferns speak, who give strength and structure to this hedgerow?
[yes, their call is robust and confident, there is always space for their becoming]’
In the words of Jerry Maguire, this piece had me at hello! It explores the author’s journey of finding her voice in nature, reflecting on the interconnectedness of human expression and the natural world, while emphasizing the importance of listening to and joining in the diverse voices of the environment.
‘Chasing Light’
by Bel Jackson Prow
‘I could not have known that snow-filled fjords or the pink hues of ice would offer a restful monotony to eyes and mind that would allow peace and acceptance. I did not choose the Arctic landscape to heal, for I did not know how lost I had become or its power to transform. I did not choose the Arctic. It chose me. I sensed only that I needed to experience something, somewhere wild.’
I was moved to tears by this personal story on surviving cancer, engrossed by the transformative journey of healing and self-discovery through encounters with the Arctic’s raw landscapes and light, which reveal the author’s newfound resilience, purpose, and connection to the natural world.
‘Forest Bathing’
by Flo Reynolds
‘Look into the distance. A great tree through trunks, and sky behind. For my neck this is the opposite to scrolling my phone. How often do I face like this, look the green in its eye? Savour this soft-eyed acknowledgement of faraway.’
There were several pieces on forest bathing, but this one stood out. I found the description of the narrator’s mindful immersion in nature, the way they engage deeply with the forest’s sights, smells, sounds and textures, to be utterly breath-taking.
‘Hummingbird Hymn’
by Kristy A. Belton
‘This is where I find myself. This is where I allow beauty and silence and knowing and trust to breathe me into the earth. This is where stone sings and wild ones wander.
I, too, want to be wild and wander.’
A stunning entry that describes a writer on a silent retreat in the Rocky Mountains, guided by a hummingbird as she ventures into the backcountry she’d previously avoided and finds a sacred spot that invites her to trust in nature, let go of her doubts and reconnect with her wild, wandering spirit. It was impossible not to get caught up in the magic.
‘Imprints’
by Joanna Mary Wolfarth
‘…my child was pulled from me in a windowless hospital room in south London. But he was also born by the sea, as my knuckles whitened against purple rock, my knees cushioned by tussocks of thrift . With each surge, I was carried up the cliff edge where granite slices into the sea…’
This piece stayed with me for some time after reading. It explores how, during childbirth, the narrator finds herself spiritually and viscerally transported to a rugged Irish landscape, blending her labour experience with memories of her husband’s ancestral homeland, as she grapples with the deep, almost cellular imprints of place, family, and self. Mystical and beautifully written.
‘Intertidal: Crossing Thresholds of Land and Self’
by Emily Wilkinson
‘Salt-filled teachers have offered almost weekly tuition in loss and living alone. Grief for my younger self came to me in oceans; the young person who could have known language to say how she felt, the younger woman who found a healthier way into relationships, who might have felt settled and supported enough to try and have a child. Loss of love took me down into the depths of myself, the dark seabed where new wisdom was found amongst sunken ruins. I have finally reached the surface again with some surprising fronds of confidence attached to my body, and a new stripped-bare kind of self-esteem anchored within me, despite feeling all at sea.’
A very clever entry that juxtaposes the writer’s journey through loss, self-discovery, and resilience, with the liminal nature of intertidal zones as she navigates life transitions, neurodivergent identity, and a deepened kinship with nature’s rhythms.
‘Lights Out’
by Nicky Jenner
‘The deep ocean, like the mind when depressed, appears desolate. Bereft of life, light and hope. A vast nothing ness that swallows you whole. Yet this could not be further from the truth.’
I was immediately struck by the vulnerability of this piece, which explores the narrator’s journey through the depths of depression, drawing parallels between the desolate beauty of Namibia’s Skeleton Coast and the hidden, fragile ecosystems of the deep ocean. The ultimate discover of solace and hope in nature’s living light was incredibly moving.
‘One Red Leaf’
by Vinitha Ramchandani
‘My mother loved flowers. But more than flowers she loved trees and shrubs and leaves. She was an amateur botanist, trained by her grandmother who used to collect leaves, herbs, roots, bark of trees, the skin and seed of edible and inedible fruit, and sell it to the doctors, healers and alternative medical practitioners. My mother would go for a walk wherever she was and could identify trees, shrubs and herb growing in the wild or in concretized streets. I grew up with this and never realised what a privilege it was to be with someone who was a sorceress.’
This piece reflects on the author's poignant experience caring for their terminally ill mother in a hospital, intertwining memories of her mother’s love for nature and botany with the harsh reality of hospital life, ultimately finding solace in the beauty of a single red leaf that symbolizes connection and grounding amidst loss. I felt I was right there!
‘Reconnection and Rediscovery’
by Hannah Lilly
‘You see, for too long I had lost touch with my love of nature. With the increasing severity of my disorder came my physical weakness and inability to explore the natural world like I did as a child; my inability to focus on anything but caloric calculations; and simply being too damn cold and miserable to find the abundant joy I once found in bird watching. But by moving to rural Somerset, nature was inescapable. Within a week, I felt as if I’d bridged the gap between me and the girl I was almost a decade ago. When the nuthatches called, I heard the echoes of her joy and remembered that they were once my own.’
This was an amazing piece, both in terms of adherence to the theme and writing. The author shares their journey of recovery from anorexia, emphasizing how reconnecting with nature played a crucial role in redefining their identity and fostering healing beyond mere nutritional restoration.
‘Talking to Trees, Listening to Snow’
by Joani Mortenson
‘You conifers are more like Buddhists. You wear your suffering, bound and buckling under the weight of this beauty. Noble humility. Willing and able to stand stalwart, rendered monk-robed blackish brown in the haze of early morning. Pine, spruce and fir, even you—nearly naked larch—unchallenged by the load of truth upon your spines.’
This entry was short and yet so profound and poetic as it reflected on the writer’s deep, sensory experience in nature, intertwining their observations of the landscape and trees with the philosophy of John Keats, while exploring themes of beauty, truth, self-reflection, and the interconnectedness of life. Gorgeous.
‘The Lessons We Learn From the Nests We Build’
by Roslyn Weaver
‘And so it might be that the reward lies not in the constructing of nests, but of social connections. When nests fall, maybe all is not lost. The nest-less might just find a welcoming space elsewhere in their little community.’
The piece reflects on the symbolism of bird nests as representations of home and community, exploring themes of transience, loss, and the connections we forge with others through the act of building and nurturing our own spaces in life. It was both heartbreaking and hope-giving.
‘The Melissae’
by Sophia Kaur
‘I looked out the conservatory windows longingly, wishing my possessed body would just set out what my mind wants it to do. Months ago, I bought seeds and trays with the intention to plant little lives into the nourishing, compacted soil hoping that with the seedlings, I too could find the strength to burst forth in reclamation.’
A beautiful, personal recount of mental health issues by exploring the narrator's struggle with an oppressive entity named Diákrisi, which feeds on their despair and isolates them from their partner and the world, until a transformative moment leads them to reconnect with nature and reclaim their agency through planting seeds, ultimately discovering that connection and community are essential for healing. Powerful.
‘The Paths We Tread’
by Lindsay Iversen
‘The Oregon Trail was not a trail at all, but a wide gash in the earth. Those hundreds of thousands of emigrants – their heavy oxen, their creaking wooden wagons, each pained step of their hardened leather boots – had worn a winding furrow perhaps four feet deep and twice as wide. More than a century after the last wagon train passed through those dusty bluffs, the swale they cut remained, a wound whose healing might only be measured in geological time.’
A fascinating entry that reflects on the historical impact of human expansion on the environment, particularly through the lens of the Oregon Trail, and argues for a reimagining of humanity's relationship with nature as one of responsibility and reciprocity, rather than dominion or exclusion. A very strong voice.
‘Weathering’
by Dee Kozlowska Crute
‘I was awakened by something tugging at the tent guy lines…Something was poking my back too…Despite it being wee hours, the moon was giving intense light, and I could see the silhouette of a nose. I placed my hand against it and could hear sniffing sounds feeling the round snout. The large presence moved away only to lay down next to my head. We were separated only by a thin layer of tent. I could feel and hear her breathing. It must have been a momma badger. Tears flooded my eyes—I was happy. The happiest I have ever been. I thanked for all that led me to this moment. Even the trauma. Without it, I would have never set off on this journey. I would never have the courage to wild camp on my own nor experience such a close connection to nature.’
I was deeply moved by this entry and the personal journey of healing and transformation it reveals. Right away, I was drawn into the author’s quest to reconnect with nature after a period of physical and mental struggle as they trek along the Southwest Coast Path. There is a particular moment, shared here, that brought tears to my eyes and reveals how moments of solitude and encounters with wildlife can lead to profound insights about resilience and self-acceptance.
‘What Lies Beneath’
by Dawn Kennedy
‘For women, descending is essential. We become dry, desiccated, and burnt out if we follow the conquering, onwards and upwards trajectory of the masculine hero’s journey. We need periods of circling down and going within. Finally, no longer able to bury my emotions under a slick professional façade I stepped out of my stilettos, tore off my nylon tights, and followed Inanna into the shadowy realm. I discovered that I’m more than a fragile ego and a pretty, polite, and shiny surface that can be skimmed over, like a pebble.’
An astute piece of writing that explores the author’s journey of personal healing and self-discovery through snorkelling in the kelp forests of Cape Town. Straight away, I knew I was in safe hands and loved how the underwater experience is used as a metaphor for confronting deep-seated emotions and societal issues while reflecting on the necessity of introspection.
‘Written by the Wild’
by Chloé Dyson
‘The trees in your feet and
The spiders in your legs and
The deer and the buzzard and the wren…
All of nature's wild beings
In your blood and your bones and your heart.’
I resonated hugely with these two poems that reflect on the transformative power of solitude in nature, exploring themes of hope, connection and personal growth. The imagery is stunning, the metaphors magical and powerful. I felt drawn into a divine reality as I read, and loved the message of the importance of listening to the whispers of nature.
Offerings
In this section you’ll be able to hear about my offerings and events.
JOIN ME FOR my online workshop ‘CHAKRA YOGA: writing from the body’
Thursday 7th November, 6pm-8pm (UK time)
This month, we're focusing on the HEART chakra and exploring the theme of 'FORBIDDEN LOVE'.
No experience of yoga is required for these sessions.
As a subscriber to Wild Muse, you can receive 20% off by using the code Wild01 at checkout.
JOIN ME FOR my online workshop ‘Journaling, Breathwork & Nature Healing to transform your Creative Process’
We’re exploring ‘Roots and Rivers’ to help us overcome shame and doubt.
Thursday 21st November, 6pm-8pm (UK time)
As a subscriber to Wild Muse, you can receive 20% off by using the code Wild01 at checkout.
Congratulations to all! I too was super grateful for the chance to contribute some words and delighted to have made long list. My inspiration came the different landscapes and the way they guided me to a more meaningful future. But it was also the opportunity to create a new recovery narrative, one that exists beyond the clinical setting, in the heart of wild places, one that hopefully will make sense and guide others.
Congratulations to everyone who entered! Doing this is so brave! Wishing everyone love!