Hidden Magic: Beginning the Journey

 

There is a particular kind of excitement that comes from standing at the beginning of a large project. It is equal parts inspiration, curiosity, uncertainty and, if I'm honest, mild terror.

For the last few years I have found myself increasingly drawn to the archaeology and material culture of folk belief. Concealed shoes hidden in walls. Witch bottles buried beneath thresholds. Protective marks scratched into timber. Charms, amulets, healing practices, ritual deposits and objects invested with power.

These traces of everyday magic appear across Britain and beyond, often surviving where written records are absent. They tell stories about hope, fear, protection, illness, luck, uncertainty and the countless ways ordinary people tried to understand and influence the world around them.

The result is Hidden Magic, a book project that explores folk belief, ritual practice and magical material culture through archaeology, history, folklore and lived experience.

At this stage the project is still growing. New sources appear almost weekly. Every conversation seems to lead to another book, another article, another museum collection or another avenue of inquiry. What began as a fascination with concealed objects and protective practices has expanded into a much broader exploration of how communities create meaning, negotiate uncertainty and express belief through material things.

One of the reasons I wanted to start this blog series is that the process of writing a book often feels hidden from view. Readers encounter the finished volume sitting neatly on a shelf, but rarely see the years of research, false starts, revisions, discoveries and occasional moments of panic that happen along the way.

So rather than only writing about the finished product, I thought it might be interesting to document the journey itself.

Over the coming months I'll be sharing the realities of researching and writing Hidden Magic: tracking down sources, visiting museums, connecting with researchers, discovering unexpected stories, wrestling with chapter structures, and learning what it takes to transform a collection of ideas into a finished book.

I hope it will be useful for anyone interested in folklore, archaeology, material culture or local history. Perhaps it might also encourage others who are considering writing their own book to take that first step.

After all, every book begins with curiosity.

And sometimes with far too many books already piled beside the bed.