Channelling Rage in SFF

Sunshine in March, while in the novel, character arcs are grappling with some big emotions. It’s a topic I look forward to speaking on at this year’s Eastercon coming soon to Belfast, in particular, the ways in which we can deal with anger and rage in our plot lines. We’re familiar with anger leading to the dark side – Anakin Skywalker in Revenge of the Sith, Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight, and Magneto in the 2000 movie X-Men – anger and rage rooted in fear that leads them down a path of no return. But is this end inevitable, and how else might we explore this powerful emotion?

My fantasy series, Blood Gift Chronicles, begins in a patriarchal world with wealth inequalities, environmental destruction, and gender based violence. The stories work to fight back against those power structures to work towards environmental and social justice. There are a number of protagonists and antagonists, with varied responses to their context, and various ways in which power and strength are defined. Among the protagonists, I subvert gender expectation, breaking the notion of traditional gender roles, and incorporate themes of identity, mental health, and being true to oneself. I have a female character who has been subjected to cruelty, and responds by becoming an assassin. I have another female character who has also been subjected to cruelty, and instead looks to community and connection, working together for peace and justice. I have a male character who expresses his rage inwardly, a path of self-destruction whereby he becomes his own antagonist for a while. And I have characters who express rage outwardly, in so far as a physical transformation with far-reaching consequences. The difference is around context, and explores the power of support and breaking social isolation, as well as the need for community, connectivity and shared values. If anger is rooted in fear, it’s interesting to consider what might be able to disrupt the fear to produce a different response. It’s also interesting to see what happens when this doesn’t work, if only as a warning of what can happen if we can’t fix things.

I recently read The Deep by Rivers Solomon, a stirring novella inspired by the real-life African slave trade. In the story there are water dwelling descendants of pregnant African slave women, who were tragically thrown overboard into the ocean. The offspring of these descendants are called Wajinru, and were born breathing water as they did in the womb. Whales were their second mothers, who fed them, bonded with them, and took them to the deepest parts of the ocean where they could be safe. They made their home on the seabed, where the trauma faced by their ancestors is forgotten by everyone except for Yetu, the historian and keeper of memories. She’s forced to dull her own senses to save being overwhelmed by the traumas of history, and it’s only at the Remembrance where she can find peace. Because it’s at this ceremony where the whole gathering holds the memories, affording her some respite. But when the ceremony is over, memories are returned to her, since those memories are so intense and tragic, only the historian is able to shoulder the burden. But the burden is wearing her down, and so at the next Remembrance, Yetu runs away, abandoning her kin to save herself.

This character has got real ragged emotions, filled with rage, pain, guilt and frustration. The memories were killing her, yet there is also no peace for her having left her family and community behind. Themes of identity and belonging are explored, as well as personal and communal responsibility in tackling the big stuff.

Which leads me back to the world in my own work-in-progress, and a centuries long rage with far reaching consequences and seismic hope.

Meanwhile, on a different note, in the real world, a visit to the Valley of Rocks for some heady North Devon coastal heights.

The mountain goats were hiding though their reputation proceeds them, rebel goats known for head-butting sheep right off the slopes, and dividing the town with their rebel antics… I did meet a Pyrenees mountain dog, a gentle giant whose presence was reassuring at a place of dizzying heights. The door was intriguing and should come with the warning sticker, ‘Do Not Enter,’ because to do so involves falling off a cliff. It is a place of imagination and stories, abound with pixie folklore, a place of scattered rocks randomly strewn as though tossed by giant hands. And it was a wonderful breath of fresh air…

xxx

Wintry Reflections

As winter draws to a close, February has been living up to its old English name this year, as ‘Mud Month’, with wind and rain abound here in the UK. The month has also flown by, soon to march into March, and work has been a flurry. My work in progress novel, Book 3 of Blood Gift Chronicles, is a constantly inspiring feature of my days. We venture to new realms, uncover the mystery of dragons, explore the source of power, and discover the truth at the core of the protagonists. Faced with catastrophe, will they survive, or will they thrive? Plus, I’m reminded of the sweetness of a true homecoming, as well as time to pause and reflect on the true nature of dragons, the diversity of dragons, what they reflect, and how far our inventions can take us. I’m enjoying focusing in on all that dragons can reveal, about our personal landscapes, and the wider world, as well as wider themes of nature, our connection to the environment, and self-exploration as characters seek pathways to peace, and dare to live true to themselves.The genres repeatedly show us the world as we know it, reflected with added colour and dimension.

As well as my novel, there’s short fiction on the horizon too. And my reading list continues to expand faster than I can read. Fortunately, the sight of crammed bookshelves is a joy. As we move out of February’s LGBTQ+ history month, and into International Women’s week in March, here are just a few titles that have joined my recent reads.

The Magic Fish, by Trung Le Nguyen; Birthday of the World, by Ursula Le Guin; Fire Logic, by Laurie Marks; The Jasmine Throne, by Tasha Suri; In The Vanisher’s Palace, by Aliette de Bodard; Different For Boys, by Patrick Ness; The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula Le Guin; The Four Profound Weaves, by R.B. Lemberg; The Unbroken, by C.L.Clarke; Empress of Salt and Fortune, by Nghi Vo. And my own, Blood Gift Chronicles.

A trip coming soon approaches with great anticipation. This year’s Eastercon will be celebrated Belfast style, and so I look forward to venturing to Northern Ireland in April, immersed in convention life with all the latest in the world of SFF. Of course it would be remiss not to take the time to venture into Game of Thrones territory, as well as visit some renowned sights of a beautiful country. And so an extended trip awaits.

In the meantime, time for a spot of R&R closer to home, and sheltering from the stormy weather at Saltram house, where ornate faces watch from labyrinth walls, and blooming snowdrops and hellebores hold their own despite the battering wind and rain.

For now the sun is peeking out, and so time for a breath of fresh air, before returning to the next writing instalment. Wishing everyone a great day.

For the Love of Books #34

In the midst of winter I’m immersed in fantasy, both in writing the next instalment of my fantasy series, and in my current read, an epic saga in a magical world. More on those another time. It’s a genre rooted in folklore, and so I thought I’d share a few recent non-fiction reads, which touch on the subject of folklore from different angles depending on the cultural lens.

Black Dog Folklore 

by Mark Norman

Black dog folklore is a fascinating read, bringing to life a subject that in many ways feels familiar: from the well-known idea of hell hounds, to the well-loved story of Hounds of the Baskervilles, to The Magic Tinderbox. But while reminiscing on favourite childhood tales of unforgettable dogs with eyes as big as saucers, the extensive and varied eye witness accounts at the core of this book take us on a fascinating journey. Just as dogs have become central to family life, so ghost dogs are woven into our folklore. This well-drawn collection offers an extensive and comprehensive study of these elusive canines, as guardians, protectors and deliverers of omens, stories that illuminate, explain and deliver the eerie, while highlighting the plethora of threads woven into the fabric of our own cultural backdrop. Expertly told, while delivered with a seamless conversational style, make this a page turning read, and one I am sure I will revisit.

The Book of Yokai; Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore

by Michael Dylan Foster, Shinonome Kijn (Illustrator)

The Book of Yokai is an extraordinary book summed up by an extraordinary word, Monsterful, to denote the rare and truly marvellous manifestations of otherness that the undefinable category of Yokai brings. Through informative encyclopaedic narratives, punctuated by gorgeous illustrations, we are taken on a journey of the weird and wonderful, the dreamlike and the haunting, through experiences that don’t easily fit into our everyday understanding, yet are somehow relatable by the bizarreness. I enjoyed the nod to well-known characterisation from the much loved Studio Ghibli, and the teasing delivery that so eloquently describes a spirit world just beyond the reach of language, where limitless yokai creatures occupy the space between. This is a deep dive into Japanese folklore, that is inventive, surprising, inspiring and suitably unsettling.

The Evolution of African Fantasy and Science Fiction

Edited by Francesca T Barbini

This small book is an important read, beginning with discussion into how far back SF dates, and how SF and colonialism emerged in parallel, exclusive of African Science Fiction. Technological developments, science, and anthropology, crucial to SF, were intertwined with colonial history and ideology, made possible through military dominance, and leading to the idea of colonised subjects with their cultural beliefs being seen as inferior.

The emergence of African Fantasy and Science Fiction is essential in changing this narrative, along with stories from Asia and indigenous voices from around the world. Technology has facilitated circulation and consumption of these stories, therefore showing its market value to established publishers, consequently creating space for more writers to offer their perceptions and strengthen positive perceptions. In turn this offers an essential sense of belonging to readers worldwide, offering cultural insight and contributing to multi-cultural awareness. There was a sobering reminder that Africans have been producing science fiction, fantasy, magical realism since the genre began, since storytelling for all of us is as old as time, leaving a huge body of work, past and present, to explore. It’s an exciting future with voices such as Nnedi Okorafor continuing to weave African folklore into Africanjujuism stories, and creating inventive Africanfuturism leading the way. An inspiring, empowering and thought-provoking read.

What are you reading?

Happy New Year 2025!!

January 1st 2025: the sky is grey, and outside sways in blustering winds. Inside, time to ponder days gone by and look ahead to footsteps new. And somewhere between the ruminating and the planning, time to pause.

New Year’s Eve was spent painting, while outside, intermittent fireworks dotted the skies. More on my current work-in-progress painting another time, but several other artworks came to fruition in 2024, inspired by visited waterscapes, lily ponds in particular. The first is from The Lost Gardens of Heligan, with a touch of magic added, a place where bush and tree crowd busy pools and giant pads weave sturdy, watery webs.

The second is a woven piece, part landscape, part imagination, and with a nod to the many heron sightings the year blessed me with.

And the third place, a lily pond mosaic, pools of interconnectedness with thanks to the communities that feel like home.

In the world of writing, it’s been wonderful to meet new readers at various events, as well as catch up with fellow writers who offer so much to inspire. WorldCon in Glasgow, the 82nd World Science Fiction Convention, was a highlight, taking part in panel discussions, and seeing the live interview of Nnedi Okorafor, an author who brings Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism into the hearts of our home.

 

Publishing news for 2024 included an article in FOCUS, The British Science Fiction Association Magazine for Writers, and it was great to grab my copy at WorldCon.

Next stop, and I’m looking forward to doing it all over again in April for Eastercon, Belfast style.

And while the edits continue for my next novel, Book 3 of Blood Gift Chronicles…

Time to pause for a breath of fresh air, and the magic of Dartmoor, among ancient oaks, mossy boulders, misty woods and granite tops.

Wishing everyone and happy and peaceful New Year 2025!

xxx

Lights of Winter Solstice

Winter solstice, and while around the world, festivals celebrate the wonder of light, the long night invites us to rest and restore. As each moment brings us closer to the sun again, the promise of spring lies in wait, and we quietly await our own transformations as, through rest, our fires re-ignite.

The process of writing is a reminder of the power of rebirth, creating, recreating, and spawning miracles when it seems as though the light is dim. Fantasy fiction breathes tales of light and dark, percolating energies to exude them anew.

‘Only in silence the word, only in dark the light, only in dying life: bright the hawk’s flight on the empty sky.’

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Creation of Ea.

In my current work in progress, Book 3 of Blood Gift Chronicles, elemental magic explores processes of transformation, magic that is littered with different forms of light: from the fires of a dragon’s breath, to mysterious lights ocean deep, to Suni’s crystal that sees her through. And, behind the light lie themes of dormancy and hibernation, in the creatures, the weather, and the personal journeys of courage and hope.

‘To light a candle, is to cast a shadow.’ Ursula K. Le Guin.

Stories light the spark of inspiration, in writing as in life. My current read offers the perfect tonic for a cold, dark winter’s night. And for anyone yet to be introduced to Sarah Ash, I would highly recommend her worlds of epic fantasy. Sarah’s books fuse a perfect blend of everything we love of traditional fantasy tales spanning the continent and beyond, with prose that binds us to the page, leading us into colourful worlds and characters that frighten, amaze, appal, and inspire. I love the plethora of shades that Sarah brings to her work, and the characters that steal our hearts. Kiukiu is currently stealing mine, her and the Snow Lord snow owl she saves, that just might return the favour…

And while writing and reading continue, every once in a while it’s time to step outside for a big breath of fresh air. Winter lights are always a delight…

… as is seeing the sights of nature. A visit to Seaton’s sprawling wetlands was a tonic, a place of natural lines of reed beds and waterways, preserved and conserved by local wildlife agencies. From redshanks to curlews to shelducks, increasing numbers of birds are flying in from distant shores to overwinter, feeding on ample crustaceans that provide fertile feeding ground on the stretching sandbanks, watched over by the resident peregrine roosting up high, and a passing flock of clacking and chatting Canada Geese, slowing fading as they fly on by, restoring the ambience of rushing reeds swaying in the breeze. A tonic.

And as the sun fades over glassy water, more light shifts and forms, glows and fades into slumber, before rising to start a new day.

And on this new day, I return to the edits, a perfect process of transformation, renewing, layering, finding the spark to brings words to life. I know what’s coming, it’s an edit after all, but anticipation still brews for the big awakening.

Wishing everyone a light filled winter, and blessings for a very Happy Festive Season, and above all, peace.

‘May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.’ JRR Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring.

xxx

For the Love of Dragons

Writing is well under way for Book 3 of Blood Gift Chronicles. While living alongside characters who inspire me daily, I am also immersed in wildlife and dragons as I forge journeys through land, sea and sky. It’s everything I love about fantasy fiction, grounded in relatable experiences, whilst offering inspiration, colour and magic; against a backdrop of danger. There is everything to lose and everything to gain, when we embrace the truth of our identity, and look to freedom. Flight offers the ultimate in freedom, in the skies, or swimming in oceans deep. And so I look to dragons, of different kinds.

I recently received a gift through the post, a gorgeous postcard featuring the Maeshowe dragon, an intriguing and playful image, ancient graffiti left behind in the Neolithic tomb of Orkney, etched by visiting Norsemen. I love the idea of mythical creatures just waiting to be re-awakened. And I love a new book just waiting to be opened, like my recent purchase, Fathomfolk by Eliza Chan, a title I’ve had my eye on for some time now – sirens, sea witches, kelpies, and a deep dive into Japanese folklore with kappas and eastern dragons, what’s not to love.

And so what is the draw to the ever popular dragon?

Beyond this place, there be dragons,’ the old map makers used to say…

Fantasy requires us to take a leap of faith and step into the unknown, to render our desire for control and open ourself up to a different possibility. The fact we enjoy the genre suggests we’re looking for that kind of adventure. What better way than with creatures that can take flight or disappear into the deepest oceans, that can shape-shift, have intelligence and speak many tongues, that teach us humility, less we choose the path of destruction, or create opportunity to unite behind a common enemy – if a dragon can wipe out an entire army, it will take more than an army to defeat one. Whatever purpose they serve, they tip us well beyond the threshold of the familiar, transcend to a point of no return.

‘I do not care what comes after; I have seen dragons dancing on the morning winds,’ Ursula Le Guin.

They are also weirdly relatable, since we grow up learning about the giants of history, aka dinosaurs. And of course we know lizards, and there are those that can fly. Flying lizards appear in my WIP novel, and this photograph has been my screensaver for some time, as pointed out by my paper-mache version, companion of the book table.

The feelings that dragons can invoke are also relatable to contemporary issues of climate change, habitat loss and depletion of the species. Ann McCaffery’s dragons are literally allies in the fight against climate change. More subtle, the mysticism in Ursula Le Guin’s dragons in Tales of Earthsea explore the possibility of extinction from the world we know, melancholy at the thought of dragons flying the other wind, leaving behind a world without dragons, a world without the majestic mystery of this awe-inspiring other-worldly magic.

In my series, Blood Gift Chronicles, the theme of power is explored through the hard magic of traditional fire breathers, and the soft magic of water dragons. One power will out, which one, you’ll have to find out, but the aim was never to rid the world of dragons, but rather lean into creation. Exploring these internal and external worlds, opening ourselves up to perspectives of air and sea, considering the power of the otherworldly, gives a vast overview of the world that only dragons can bring. It’s a fly high, and a deep dive, battling internal struggles, fighting powers in a bid for freedom, with the question, if you have fought a dragon, is there any turning back?

Landscape credit to the coastline of Hartlands, where lies a partly submerged, rocky dragon.