The Fjordhammer Project: Never Forgotten, Reclaiming The Person Behind The Paranormal - Amy Boucher

Bio

Amy Boucher is a writer, folklorist, and part time goblin, who focuses on her native Shropshire. Having rediscovered her passion for creative writing, her emphasis is primarily on the interplay between folklore, history and the paranormal, and perceptions of the past through the lens of folk beliefs. Using multiple formats, including her blog Nearlyknowledgeable, she retells the Folklore of Shropshire, and is currently writing an audio drama based on the intrinsic link between the Shropshire landscape and Satanic Folklore. You can find her at (Twitter) @g0blinegg. 

‘Never Forgotten’- Reclaiming The Person Behind The Paranormal

I often feel that when I sit down to write, my past is tandem with the present. I am the little girl that my mother declared was away with the fairies, the awkward teenager finding solace in history, who wrote her first play and was far too into Viking Mythology, and the young woman who lost her way. All of the feelings once felt, seem to churn up inside me. This can be scary, unsettling even, however transferring those words onto the page and sharing my passions feels like an act of rebellion, against everything that they would have had me believe. If you’re told something enough, it becomes fact, it twists your perceptions and defines you, makes you a shallow, sad thing, unsure of the world around you. You lose understanding of people’s intensions, of kindness, and learn to hide away the most precious parts of yourself. I was unfortunate enough to have been in a very emotionally abusive situation for a number of years, and through my renewing my passion for folklore, and in particular the underrepresented folklore of my native Shropshire, I was able, having escaped this situation- to remind myself who I am. 

In reality, folklore had always been there for me. I grew up in the shadow of the Wrekin, which was placed there by a giant, at least I was told, and it instilled in me a fascination for the landscape I called home. I’ve always loved stories of the Devil, local witches, wizards, ghosts, and eccentric’s (perhaps I saw a little of myself in them) and this transferred itself into my creative process. I’ve been writing since I could hold a pen, and throughout school and sixth form I used creative writing as a process to help me understand myself. I was naturally an anxious and unsure person, but creativity gave me a way to define myself, even in a small way. I even had some successes, with some very rudimentary poetry being published, and my play having a rehearsed reading at the national theatre- and I can tell you as a Shropshire lass, my first big excursion to London was eventful!

One of the first ways my abusive situation took a toll on me was by taking my writing away. They told me that I was a fraud, that I was embarrassing myself by continuing the façade. They told me they were helping me- trying to make me better- and why should I have questioned them? You’re always taught that the witch Is evil, and if you wander too far into the woods you will be stolen away- you’re never told the person in front of you is out to hurt you. Call me naïve, but I stopped writing that day, and did my best to be the version they wanted. Next, they attacked my intellect, and though I had good grades, and a natural curiosity- I stopped believing I could achieve anything. The final blow was the way I looked- which I was told was too big or too ugly, or a myriad of other unkind words. I still struggle with my appearance as a result of this, but it gets easier. 

Through this situation every facete of myself was challenged, mocked, and ridiculed, moulded into a version of myself I didn’t recognise. I feared the repercussions of expressing myself, thus I learnt to hide myself away. I lost my ‘Me’ and devoid of meaning or purpose, I became a ghost.

I’m lucky enough to have got away. My situation changed drastically, and now I am loved by a person who challenges the negative self-talk every day- a person who gives me unequivocal support and love. He gives me safety, and safety is the thing I crave the most, and I am remembering who I am. However, the world around me still feels too big and scary and being a ghost, I struggled to understand my place in it. Who was I really? Why was I here? How could I stop thinking those things I’d been told? 

And thus, (with a healthy dose of encouragement) I began writing again. I turned my mind to home- I began writing about my home, Shropshire of sin-eaters and giants and all the things I’d loved once. I used folklore to create a world for myself and began to exist in the parameters of my own understanding. I wrote out of a desire to reconnect with everything I loved, and explore myself, and it still shocks me that people interact with my blog, enjoy my writings, but makes me immensely proud. I love Shropshire so much, its underrepresented, underappreciated and I think it’s stories have so much to offer. Perhaps by focusing on these qualities, I’m trying to coax the best bits of myself back out. 

Flash forward to now, as I write my story- I am stronger now, still small, and unsure, but stronger. My study of folklore has given me a purpose, a sense of pride and something to be passionate about. Recently, I’ve found myself writing more about paranormal Shropshire, focusing on its ghosts. I think this is because I know how it feels to be invisible. 

Shropshire has a huge number of ghosts. Every battlefield and street corner and ruin seems to have a haunted monk or lady spectre attached to it, and this fascinates me. I’m in no place to discuss the credibility of such stories, however I believe that a ghost tale often develops after great trauma or tragedy, an event that people struggle to understand. After the candle was snuffed out prematurely, you cannot help but hope a residue of the flame remains, a piece of the person that was taken from you. This really resonates with me, as even after I was ridiculed and lost my way, a little piece of me remained. 

Through writing about folklore, and ghosts I am trying to demonstrate the importance of these stories, even the smallest, most forgotten corner of the country has importance and meaning to someone. With my ghosts, however possible I have made it my mission to restore their personhood, that underneath the white sheet with eyeholes, there was a person who had something tragic happen to them, I do this in hope that one day I can restore my own personhood. 

There is a reason that I cry whenever I hear Sam Gamgee implore Frodo to understand that there’s some good left in this world, and that life is worth fighting for, it’s because I finally see that this is the case. I couldn’t have done this without folklore, and its restorative affect on me, and for this I will never stop talking about it. I think that if you repeat something enough, it becomes truth, so I want to finish by saying that it does get better, even when it feels bleak, that you deserve to follow your passions, and that you, just as I, are wonderful, and worthy.