Susan Mann
Hi, I’m Susan. I’m a writer and narrative therapy practitioner.
I live in Cape Town, near the forest, with my husband, dog and two large cats.
I also spend time in Normandy, where the population is sparse and the cows are plush. The few who live there are known as les accoureurs – which means ‘the people who run towards’.
From 2002 I lectured at the University of Cape Town, where I completed an MA in Creative Writing before studying further in Paris. Around that time I wrote two novels.
During Covid, I rekindled an interest in Narrative Therapy, eventually completing a Masters in Narrative Therapy and Community Work from the University of Melbourne in 2024.
What has stayed with me through the writing, the teaching of writing, the therapy training, is a conviction that literature is a powerful tool for understanding our own lives. Literature often reaches into places that direct conversation cannot. Whether it’s via character, image, myth, metaphor or plot, it can slip past our defences and land somewhere unexpected and true.
Susan Mann
Hi, I’m Susan. I’m a writer and narrative therapy practitioner.
I live in Cape Town, near the forest, with my husband, dog and two large cats.
I also spend time in Normandy, where the population is sparse and the cows are plush. The few who live there are known as les accoureurs – which means ‘the people who run towards’.
From 2002 I lectured at the University of Cape Town, where I completed an MA in Creative Writing before studying further in Paris. Around that time I wrote two novels.
During Covid, I rekindled an interest in Narrative Therapy, eventually completing a Masters in Narrative Therapy and Community Work from the University of Melbourne in 2024.
What has stayed with me through the writing, the teaching of writing, the therapy training, is a conviction that literature is a powerful tool for understanding our own lives. Literature often reaches into places that direct conversation cannot. Whether it’s via character, image, myth, metaphor or plot, it can slip past our defences and land somewhere unexpected and true.
It is out of this belief that Kotonoha workshops grew. Kotonoha is a Japanese word meaning ‘the leaves of words’. It imagines words as living things: seasonal and capable of renewal. For me, it is where literature and narrative therapy ideas meet.