T. K. Howell is a writer living on the banks of the Thames. When not writing, he manages ancient oak woodlands and tends to trees that are older than most countries. His writing is often inspired by mythology and folklore.
T. K. has recently come back to writing after a hiatus of over a decade. He began to write and submit short stories at the beginning of 2022 and has not been able to stop since. He writes both literary and genre/speculative fiction and, among other places, his work is available at Lucent Dreaming, Mystery Magazine, Dark Horse and Firewords.
Q: If you could travel back in time, which of the great writers would you like to meet and why?
A: I’m a conservationist and woodland manager by trade, so I’m going to go a little niche and pick Aldo Leopold. He wrote beautiful little vignettes about the natural world which inform and underpin a lot of modern conservationist ethos. He would have been a fascinating man to spend time walking the wilderness with.
Q: What is the first book you remember reading or having read to you as a child?
A: The Hobbit. My mother is a Tolkien nut, but for whatever reason High Fantasy has never really grabbed me in the same way since.
Q: Do you have a lucky writing talisman? If so, what is it?
A: I wish I could pretend I had some cool lucky charm, but afraid not.
Q: Is there a book that you keep going back to, and if so, how many times have you read it?
A: The Big Sleep, or anything by Chandler really. For razor-sharp lines, there isn’t anyone better. Also Catch-22, I re-read on average every three years. Yes, it is hilarious and you can’t help but be dazzled by the intricate, interlocking pieces. But it is the depth of pathos that I think always catches me off-guard.
Q: What superpower would you like to have and why?
A: Infinite patience. I have two young children.
Kicking the thin sward, he brings up chalk in the roots of knapweed and bladder campion. Eyebright, rockrose, sainfoin. In the morning light, Bee Orchids dance dark and purple against the pale green of marjoram. Sun up. Showtime. Julian is eight and every Saturday his father marches him out of the house at sunrise and …