Look What I Was Nominated For!

Let’s call this what it is: a tiny, sparkly moment of internet absurdity.

I was nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award by Francesca Bossertwho has the rare gift of being both brilliant and kind, which is probably the real definition of sunshine.

I hesitated for about a nanosecond before saying yes. I don’t usually think of myself as a “sunshine” sort of person. My natural habitat is closer to coffee, deadlines, and philosophical overthinking. But I like what this little tradition stands for — writers recognising other writers, with genuine admiration and a small dose of collective warmth.

So here I am, answering a few questions in the spirit of curiosity and camaraderie. Consider it a tiny patch of sunlight on the very grown-up business of trying to say something true:

Which fictional setting would you most like to visit (it can also be a real place in a work of fiction)?

The setting I yearn for isn’t Hogwarts or Middle Earth, it’s the velvet interior of Anaïs Nin’s Paris. I want to slip into those smoky rooms, sip something dark and bitter, and write until dawn with women who refuse to behave. That’s where I’d go: the place where words and bodies were both taken seriously.

“Paris is like a giant park, riotous in colouring, festive in its fountains and flowers, glorious in its monuments…I feel as if I were biting into a utopian fruit, something velvety and lustrous and rich and vivid.” Anais Nin

Is there any fictional character you might run away with?

I wouldn’t “run away with” anyone — I’d run away as someone. Lady Macbeth, but without the guilt. Villanelle, but with a better pension plan. The character I’d choose is always the one who gets called “too much.” I want to see what happens when “too much” gets the last word.

Have you ever written a line and thought, oh my goodness, I’m a genius?

Yes-ish. But the truth is, genius usually arrives disguised as a throwaway. I’ll type something in the margin at midnight, half-mocking myself, and then the next day it detonates on the page. Those are the lines I keep — the ones that arrive uninvited, like stray cats, and end up owning the house.

Do you like to travel?

Ah yes. Give me the cracked pavements of a city I don’t belong to, the odd hours in train stations, and the sense that I could vanish and no one would know. Travel is less about seeing the world and more about losing ‘my script’ in it.

If you could live anywhere in the world for a year, where would it be?

I’d live in a crumbling palazzo near Venice, writing by the canals with a glass of mock wine and the stubborn belief that the city is whispering to me. Venice is half-ruined, half-sacred, a city that reminds me how beauty and decay are never separate.

Is there something you have always wanted to learn?

I’d like to learn how to truly rest without making it a project. I suspect it’s harder than any new skill.

What do you love the most about the place you live?

What a delicious question! I love that where we live is inconvenient. The countryside demands I commit thoroughly to mud, to the weather, to dark skies and silence, and ultimately to my own mind. Uncompromising, and ferociously alive.

Do you collect anything?

I collect sentences the way other people collect skincare samples — compulsively, and with the faint hope they’ll fix something. Lines that hit like a slap and then a hug. I screenshot them, dog-ear them, and even scrawl them on receipts. They live in drawers, handbags, and you should see my Notes app graveyard.

They’re my emergency rations for when the work feels impossible or I start questioning every decision I’ve ever made. One good sentence and I remember: I’m part of a long conversation, and I don’t have to finish it today.

What is a random fact about you that you’d like to share?

I have an autumn and into winter book-writing jumper. It’s old, holey, and sparkly, plus it is the shade of green that once meant glamour and now just means comfort. I wear it whenever I’m deep in a draft, partly out of superstition and partly because it feels like the skin of every book I’ve written. I’ve tried to replace it a dozen times, but nothing else works. The words don’t arrive unless the jumper does.

Is there any particular smell that takes you back in time?

The smell of swimming pools because that sharp mix of chlorine, echo, and heat takes me straight to childhood summers. Hours blurred together; hair stiff with water, skin tight with sun. It’s the scent of freedom before I even knew what that word meant.

Who is your favourite musician?

That depends entirely on the mood I’m building. When I’m writing, it’s instrumental — words and lyrics are jealous housemates, and only one of them gets the room. When I’m cooking, it’s jazz or afrobeats because food deserves rhythm. When I’m driving, it’s 90s R&B and the steering wheel becomes a mic stand.

Music is my atmosphere control. I don’t have a favourite artist. I have playlists for confidence, curiosity, and the art of showing up.

Do you listen to music when you write?

Always. Music gives my thinking a costume. If I’m reaching for clarity or conviction, I’ll put on Widor’s Symphony for Organ No. 1 in C Minor — that triumphant, ecclesiastical march that makes me feel like I could issue decrees. It’s my Bishop energy track.

When I need something earthier, more insubordinate, I’ll play Behave Myself by She Drew the Gun. That’s my feminist-mother frequency — all grit and grace. The right piece of music changes how the words land; it decides who’s holding the pen that day.

Who is your favourite writer?

Audre Lorde who built sentences like weapons and then handed them to us as gifts.

Do you have a special ritual to get you into writing mode?

Not candles or crystals (though I’ll never say no to a mood). My ritual is refusal of email, errands, and every urgent thing pretending to be important.

Writing happens when I build a porous little barricade to keep myself in, rather than to keep people out. The ones I love cross it freely — my children, laughter, and always the small interruptions of love; they all get to stay.

Do you have a favourite hobby?

If curiosity counts as a hobby, I’m devoted. I ask questions that don’t have polite answers and then see what happens next. Most of what I write, or build, begins there. I suppose that’s the through-line. I like finding out what’s under the surface, even if it makes a mess.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

“Don’t audition for a part you already own.” It reminds me daily: stop seeking permission for what I was born doing.

Do you have or have you ever had a crush on a celebrity?

I don’t really do crushes. Admiration, yes. Recognition, often. But definitely not the fantasy of proximity that a crush implies. The women I enjoy watching are the ones who make the air shiver when they enter a space. They are women who seem to locate truth by making everyone else a little uncomfortable.

Michaela Coel, who turned her trauma into art so precise it redefined what bravery looks like on screen. Ali Wong, sharp enough to slice open the polite skin of marriage and motherhood and still make you howl. Issa Rae, who writes women who are complicated, funny, and human, no translation required.

These women unsettle because they’re incapable of anything less than honesty. I’m drawn to the pure, disobedient act of them being themselves brilliantly, publicly, and on their own terms.

CLOSING + NOMINATIONS

A heartfelt thank you again to Francesca Bossert for nominating me. I admire her work and the joy she threads through everything she writes, it feels entirely fitting that this invitation came from her.

One of the loveliest things about the Sunshine Blogger Award is the reminder that writing, though often solitary, happens inside a wider circle. We read each other’s words, light small fires, and keep one another company across the distance.

So now it’s my turn to pass the light on. Below are the writers I’m delighted to nominate for the Sunshine Blogger Award.

I’ve given each writer a name of their own, a small act of myth-making in return for the work they share:

Louise Morris - Decision Surgeon
Katrina Donham - Everyday Alchemist
Jenna Folarin - Modern Wayfinder
Steph Morris - Zigzag Cartographer
Joanna Milne 🏺 - Archer of Ancients
Jennifer Campo - Ritual Firestarter
Amy McKeown - Strategic Dissident
Hazel Maclaurin - Cultural Blacksmith
Erin Shetron - Message Maven
Megan Lee - Shame-Remaker
Olivia Lara Owen - Velvet Rebel

If you choose to take part, you can answer the questions below and nominate others whose work deserves to be seen. Or simply take this as a small gesture of appreciation from one writer to another.

My Sunshine Questions for You:

1. What’s one moment that changed the trajectory of your life?

2. Which book would you choose to be haunted by (and why)?

3. What’s the strangest compliment you’ve ever received?

4. Where do your best ideas find you — in motion or in stillness?

5. What’s something you’ve stopped apologising for?

6. Which sound or piece of music best describes your current season?

7. What’s a piece of advice you’ve outgrown?

8. What do you wish people asked you about more often?

9. When do you feel most yourself on the page?

10. What small ritual, superstition, or habit keeps you tethered to your work?

I hope you enjoy answering these questions.
Till Later,

Danusia x

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