Stories to Inspire

Looking back over two years since the release of The Warder, Book 2 of Blood Gift Chronicles, and it’s been a busy time, visiting near and far with a story close to my heart. Continuing Suni’s journey from Return of the Mantra, and it was a joy to write a young woman finding her way and coming into her own, from a girl searching for justice and her own identity, achieving self-determination, and flourishing into a visionary thinker. In this sequel she is joined by Wanda and Luna, two protagonists who delve deep into the human condition. The world comes alive with wildlife, magic, and a new land with an intriguing and dangerous history…oh, and did I mention, dragons…
Like I said, a story close to my heart.
Huge thanks to all of my readers for your continued support, for every review and kind word said, and for every story out there that continues to inspire. Lots to come, and we’re looking forward to tripping to Birmingham very soon with Blood Gift Chronicles.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with memories of a recent Comic Con here in Devon, brimming with stories to inspire…
 
 
Have a great week everyone!

International Women’s Day 2023

A few reflections on this year’s International Women’s Day, when I had the opportunity to join a wonderful collaboration of women for Dreadnought South West’s Occupy the Airwaves, a day-long extravaganza celebrating women’s voices on radio. AND I was thrilled to share the session with the fabulous Mama Tokus, soul, jazz, blues & gospel singer, whose spirit is contagious, and spoken word creations bring rhyme, tune, & cheeky reflections: perfect snapshots of life as we know it.

For my part, I brought a love of women in SFF, and stories that provide a common language, that help break down barriers, and speak to the social commentary of the times. With a special request from Mama Tokus to chat Afrofuturism, it was a great opportunity to share some of my favourite authors of this genre of reclamation: own voices reclaiming history, land, future aspirations, pushing through glass ceilings, decolonising space, minds and literature. From the pioneering Octavia Butler, interrogating power dynamics of race and gender throughout her range of titles, to the indominable Nnedi Okorafor, writer of the Black Panther comics, whose range of work speaks to colour, invention and empowerment. Her brand is specifically Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism, phrases she coined: speculative fiction based in Africa from the Sudan, to Namibia to Nigeria, and many places between.

Ah, and there wasn’t enough time to mention so many other great names: Eugen Bacon, Renee Sheree Thomas, Rivers Solomon, NK Jemison, and Nisi Shawl (with her insightful and memorable read, Everfair – historical retelling of King Leopold in the Congo, exploring what might have happened if the indigenous Congolese had had access to steam power).

And after wandering through the meanderings of Afro-futurism, my first song choice was Vul’indela by Brenda Fassie – described as the queen of African pop, she was a South African singer who did amazing things raising money for HIV/AIDS. This song, sung in Zulu, is essentially about a mother who is relieved when her son gets married, because she thought he was a player..!

And the second song choice… it has to be Tracey Chapman, a lesbian icon, and her song ‘For my Lover’, about a relationship that nobody approves of, but against all odds, she’ll do it anyway.

Onto my own, Blood Gift Chronicles, a world where many worlds fit, with interconnecting landscapes and societies built around nature and magic. And of course, it’s always a pleasure to talk about Suni’s extraordinary journey: from the patriarchal backdrop of Return of the Mantra, where we see Suni’s frailties and strengths as she survives, loves, fights and learns to stand with her own agency, highlighting empowerment, self-belief, and finding your own inner strength; through the twists and turns of adulthood as the series progresses. Because from the beginning I was motivated to write complex women with agency, to reflect the cost of exploitation and corruption, to challenge stereotypes, subvert expectation, redefine notions of strong, and create diverse character arcs with relatable experiences. We can appreciate our frailties, we can not only survive but we can thrive, we can feel fear but be guided by hope and love. And as a writer and reader, I’m guided by the fact that representation matters. When we see ourselves represented, it’s empowering, validating, and gives that sense of belonging.

Have a great week!

Nature’s Solace

I’m looking forward to a busy week ahead, with lots in store for International Women’s Day, among other things. But first, time to reflect on a moment of peace and quiet with a visit to Dunsford nature reserve. It seems timely to celebrate a piece of nature, with the recent announcement of the Global UN Treaty to protect marine biodiversity. Here on land, and at a local level, we continue to be thankful for Devon Wildlife’s efforts in preserving local habitats.

Last year’s visit to the reserve inspired a poem simply entitled Dunsford, click here. There were no squeaking otters this time around; instead we were treated to a flowering of early springtime bulbs with carpets of daffodils punctuated by snowdrops and wandering robin redbreasts. Surrounded by woodland valley slopes, breathe fresh air and follow the meandering path of Devon’s river Teign…

 

Wishing everyone a great week ahead…

For the Love of Books #22

Approaching the end of LGBTQ+ history month here in the UK, and I thought I would share two SFF titles, if not for historical relevance, for the significance of representation. Sci-fi has often been seen as ahead of the curve in breaking barriers, and across the genres, marginalised voices are coming to the fore.

The Four Profound Weaves; by R.B. Lemberg

The first of the four profound weaves is woven from wind to signify change, invisible threads woven into whispered weaves, spun from a captured wind and revealing hints pf pink and silver desert hues. This type of descriptive narrative flows throughout this magical novella, with tantalising magic woven from the surrounds, almost plain to see but impossible to catch – just like a magic carpet, which was one of the reasons I was drawn to this book.

The story begins with Uiziya, sitting in her goatskin tent waiting for the return of her exiled Aunt Benesret. Her weaves cannot compare to Benesret’s, whose expert fingers could weave even from bones. Uiziya’s lessons of the Four Profound Weaves are unfinished, and still she waits to inherit her aunt’s loom, waiting to learn the weave of death. It’s a weave that involves an actual death. Benesret previously killed Uiziya’s husband for the sake of the weave. It was the reason Benesret was banished, because she killed. Nevertheless, it is a weave Uiziya must learn, since she is destined to become a great weaver of the Four Profound Weaves, one who would bring the gods themselves to her bidding.

Uiziya’s search for Benesret coincides with the Nameless Man’s search for his name. It is three months since the Nameless Man’s transformation at the ceremony of change, but his people, the Khana, don’t recognise transformed people, instead insisting that the shape of one’s body determines one’s fate. Uiziya is also a changer, since after weaving her cloth, the sandbirds came to her.

This is a brooding tale against a colourful backdrop, incorporating thought-provoking contemporary discussion of gender identity and transitioning. The Nameless Man ponders the social impact of his transformation: all his life he had been a lover, trader, and reluctant grandmother who cared for their grandchildren. Now he was a grandfather. But in his culture, grandchildren never saw their grandfathers. It is insight like this that gives real depth to character, narrative and backdrop. Fantasy woven alongside these personal journeys of transformation, reveal the challenges of surrounding microaggressions designed to undermine an identity to uphold another. I loved the simple statement given in one response to tireless questioning of a person’s identity: ‘This is what feels right to me.’

Thought-provoking themes set against an imaginative world called Birdverse, described with magical lyricism that is a feast for the senses, makes for a truly memorable story.

Gideon the Ninth; by Tamsin Muir

Enter the world of lesbian necromancers…

Gideon lives on a remote planet, home to both the stronghold of the House of the Ninth, and a tiny prison used for criminals whose crimes are so repugnant, they cannot be rehabilitated in their own houses. The Ninth House is an enormous hole cracked vertically into the planet’s core, and the prison is a bubble installation set halfway up into the atmosphere. Gideon first arrived when her mother mysteriously appeared, falling down the planetary shaft. Gideon, just one year old at the time, survived the fall. She was chipped, surnamed and put into the nursery. By age five they knew that she was not a necromancer, and by eight that she would never be a nun. By ten they knew she knew too much and could never be allowed to leave. By the time she is eighteen, Gideon has attempted to run away eighty-six times. The alternative would be to die in this dark netherworld, which would only be the beginning.

On the tenth thousand year of the King of the Undying, Prince of Death, Gideon makes another attempt, only to be thwarted by the Lady of the Ninth House, Reverend Daughter Harrowhawk. Harrowhawk has her own plans for Gideon: for Gideon to become cavalier primary of the House of the Ninth. Serving Harrowhawk may not be Gideon’s idea of a good time, but it’s the only way to leave. But what will she be leaving for?

Welcome to an inventive and ghoulish world, where mysterious tendrils lie in wait to ensnare and crush the life out of those still living; a labyrinth of death, bones, panic, quest and mayhem. Disorganised chaos is punctuated with sarcastic, sadistic and mysterious notes that speak to the reader as much to the characters, tempting you to turn the page and delve further into this Alice in Wonderland-esque creepy maze. Magically weird, dark worldbuilding, with lively narrative and well-scripted dialogue brings to life the humanity of necromancers.

What are you reading?

 

February Sun

Pausing to reflect on how lovely it has been to see the sun this February. After many weeks of rain, it’s felt like a real treat to be able to bask in some sun traps. This curly-whiskered furball adores soaking up the rays, the hotter the better, despite her thick fur.

And crisp dry weather is great for getting out and about. Huge thanks to Devon Wildlife Trust for creating and preserving some wonderful natural habitats to enjoy. Including along the River Otter, where we recently ventured. It’s a river with a well-known and long history, including its role in driving watermills used to power local textile and corn mills. Milling has taken place for over a 1,000 years at Otterton, and continues!! And so, on the river’s epic journey from the Blackdown Hills to the English Channel at Budleigh, we met up with it at the salt marshes and reed beds, overlooked by the red Jurassic cliffs, home to millions of years of earth’s history…

Home to birds a plenty… Well, perhaps on another day we’ll get lucky with the kingfishers and egrets, but it was fabulous to spot a curlew, especially since they’re on the UK’s red list, a priority for bird conservation…

And I look forward to an evening amble, keeping an eye out for the industrious beaver…

But where did all the otters go?

And finally a gulp of sea air, and a lucky find, spotting the colour among a sea of pebbles…

Now it’s back to work for me…

Have a great week!

For the Love of Books #21

2023 so far has been filled with some magical reads. As writers we look for those layers to encapsulate and bring to life the essence of characters, cultures, worlds… and two titles stand out, for their intrinsic connection with music, that adds depth in a way that is difficult to define, because it’s as omnipresent as culture in stories masterfully woven.

Nine Bar Blues, by Sheree Renee Thomas

Nine Bar Blues is an extraordinary collection of evocative tales, rich, layered and textured with magic that haunts, uplifts and ascends any bounds of expectation. With prose that sings and muse that flies through the pages, I was hanging onto every word that guided me deeper into the authors layered imaginings and startling observations. From curse-bound sisterhood journeying to the source of ancestry, through poisoned landscapes of an other-worldly earth, to golden mermaids, tales are woven with musical renditions that move with the rhythm of cultural change, alive with the sounds of souls.

This is magic and fantasy rooted in the real; snapshots of life as sharp as cut glass that stop you in your tracks and make you lose your breath for a long pause. From contemporary social justice concerns, and words that carry the weight of history in finely-drawn prose, this collection speaks truth to the abuse of power, truths that sing to slave songs, lost souls, and the blues. An inspiring and masterfully woven collection.

Songspinners, by Sarah Ash

Orial works with her father, Dr Magelonne, in the Sanatorium of the spa city of Sulien. She is close to her father, more so since her mother, Iridial, died. Iridial had lived and breathed music, and now Dr Magelonne forbids music, since it provokes memories too painful to endure. But, like her mother, music flows from Orial like water. Only in the Undercity, at her mother’s shrine, can she practice the art that she has taught herself. But there she experiences strange visions in a waking dream – the searing pain of burning flames.

The underground labyrinth of the Undercity was built by ancient builders, the Lifhendil, commonly known as Songspinners in modern-day Sulien. Their artwork is still displayed on the Undercity’s walls, but their beliefs and language are lost, save for fairy stories and folk tale. This mysterious race possessed a unique trait – multi-coloured irises, which Orial and her mother shared. And as the world unfolds, revealing the depth of Orial’s gift, wonder, intrigue and danger merge.

In the Undercity, Orial is approached by refugees from Bel’Esstar, fleeing persecution from the Commanderie. One of the refugees, Amaru Khassian, is a composer, whose hands have been badly burned, injuries so severe, he won’t regain the use of his hands. A strange and unique connection exists between Orial and Khassian, one that makes clear to Orial that she simply must have music in her life, whilst for Khassian, a dangerous chain of events are triggered. Their personal music describes their uniqueness, and their contrasting and connected plights: Orial’s as darting and bright as a dragonfly’s flight; Khassian’s with despair and madness fuelled by ego.

This is an evocative, beautifully drawn world. I adored the magic, memorable, tangible, yet delightfully just beyond our reach, with tales of musical telepathy, faeries and dragonflies, and mystical reservoirs. Orial’s character was utterly captivating from the start, a thoughtful, determined, empathic young woman, and utterly intriguing in her magic as the story unfolds like an orchestral song. And as tensions run high in this complex world, the question remains, will Orial succumb to madness?

What are you reading?