Meet John Nixon and the Supercargo

Photo of John Nixon

John Nixon and the Supercargo

No, it's not the latest band to take Melody Festival by storm, but rather one of our regular festival participants - a teacher, a writer and an avid blogger.

We had the pleasure of finding out all about John in this months festival participant feature interviews.

Originally from England, John has been living in Sweden for more than 30 years. Currently based in Göteborg, John makes his living by writing and translating technical and educational texts. An ex-teacher, John writes blog posts, poetry short stories and novels. Up until recently, most of the work that didn't end up on the blog, stayed on his hard drive.

Since attending SWF18 he's been submitting some of those pieces hard drive pieces and has had several poems and stories picked up for publication.

You can read John’s work on his author website thesupercargo.com, and connect with him on Twitter: @thesupercargo and on Instagram: @thesupercargo

Read the full interview with John below, and find out how he found the writers network he never knew he needed.

A fairly common thread in the SWF community is that many of us have dreamed of writing for years before we ever had the time, resources, or ability to sit down and actually do it. When did you first decide writing was something that you wanted to actively pursue, and then how long was it before you started writing seriously?

I've wanted to be a writer and live by my pen at least since I was a teenager. I wrote quite a lot in my late teens and twenties. Not very well. Nevertheless, I was published in a few student papers and magazines. That petered out when I moved abroad to work. I continued to write, but only academically or to create teaching material, or for my desk drawer. I quit teaching in 2008 when I turned 50. Since then I've been trying to make myself into a writer.


What is your primary creative writing genre, and did this change over the years, or has this always been your main focus?

I don't feel I have a primary genre. When I write prose, if I'm not writing memoir or travel stories, I tend to write science fiction, historical fiction or contemporary fiction. I admire authors who are (were) comfortable working in several different genres. Iain (M) Banks, and Ursula K LeGuin come to mind.

Overall, has attending SWF helped you in pursuing the "path to published," and if so, how?

Deep breath.

I attended the first Stockholm Writers Festival in 2018, and was booked to attend the third in 2020. In the end, of course, I attended SWF20 on-line. I was glad to do so, but, good though it was (and as much as I want to give kudos to the organisers for finding a way to carry on despite The Plague), it wasn't what I'd hoped for. I'm delighted, now, to have booked to attend the 2022 festival In Real Life.

SWF18 gave me a lot, in several different areas. The feedback I received from Cassie Gonzales on my still unfinished historical novel. The opportunity to attend sessions led by Jess Lourey and Jenny White in particular. The impetus I got from submitting the first five pages of my novel to the First Pages Prize. Meetings with a number of people I stayed in touch with after the event.

I came away from the festival with an understanding that what I needed, going forward, was the support of a writers' group. Living in Göteborg I've never found a local group I could comfortably participate in. After SWF18, I started looking further afield and eventually joined an international, on-line group, Writers Abroad. When that group disbanded at the end of 2020, I and several other members pooled our resources and set up a successor group, Pens Around the World. Among my fellow founder members is Gail Aldwin, who attended SWF19 and participated in SWF20 as a "Debutant".

Pens Around the World has been operating now for about a year. Currently we have 12 members living in seven countries and are open to applications from traveling and/or isolated writers, living abroad or at a distance from others.


Post-SWF18 and since joining these writing groups, I write more, and more regularly. I more often finish what I write; if not novels, at least short stories, poems and blog posts. I've had several poems and short stories accepted and published, for example in The Poet Magazine, Red Planet, Art Ascent and the anthology Far Flung from Writers Abroad.

Can you tell us a little about a piece you've written in the past that you are particularly proud of, published or not -- just something that still moves you every time you revisit it?

Over the years I have written a good many blog posts, some of them I continue to be pleased with. A few continue to attract interest. For example, When did they begin, the Beguine about the origin of the name of the dance in Cole Porter's song, and its connection to Medieval co-operative communities of women in the Low Countries. Or my short story about Princess Uncumber who grew a miraculous beard in an attempt to avoid marriage.

Closest to my heart, I think, is The Worst Journey in the World, which was inspired by the tragedy of the refugee flight to Europe and the response it attracted in 2015 and 2018. I remembered my own worst journey and discussed what a really bad journey might look like.


Is there anything specific that you hope to learn more about at SWF22?

I'm looking forward to once again meeting living people who write! I hope to re-connect with some people I've met before, and perhaps make some new acquaintances, maybe even new friends.

We asked John for a short piece that we could share with our readers for inspiration and he was kind enough to include a short poem he wrote in 2019, and published in the Far Flung anthology from Writers Abroad in the autumn of 2020.


Three Parts of a Kestrel

Over the cliff a wind blows fit to freeze.
Above the rock-face, over winter trees
a hunting kestrel hovers, made of threes.

A part that quivers, flickers, strokes the air.
A muscled part, compact, that shifts, here, there.
A savage part, with static hook and glare.

Hanging in the updraught, prepped to kill
some little life that, unaware, creeps still.
The kestrel drops: wings, body, beak – one will.

Lars Nordstrom