Tag: Epic Fantasy Books

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.

Layers

Graced by warmer weather, I recently visited wisteria tunnel, lucky to catch it in full bloom. Eye-catching from a distance, intriguing up close, with a heady floral aroma that brings a hazy shift in time, fluctuating shades of purple that are mesmerising to the eye, and criss-crossing, weaving, winding branches with pathways to everywhere and nowhere… Combined with the surrounding parkland flora and fauna, and the human traffic strolling by with all of what we carry, and it’s a complex, layered scene. It’s an analogy I recently thought of, akin to storytelling.

Talk of worldbuilding to a SFF writer is like bread and butter. I deal in worlds, and within those worlds, different lives, perspectives, roads travelled, survival and future aspirations. There may be a thread I’m primed to process, a theme that motivates, but ultimately it starts with a world I’m keen to explore. Plots, characters, themes are common to all stories, but imaginative worlds are the reason we return. Once we have an idea of the world, we can build in elements of friction, stumbling blocks to weave stories around.

But first comes the world, underpinned by layers to forge a social, political, cultural identity. The identity of the aforementioned wisteria tunnel was the size, the majesty, the colour, the heady aroma, the movement, the interplay with its surroundings and visitors… The identity of a fictional world relies on a similar scope: beliefs, habits, communication, trade, language, love, laws… If you build a world with enough layers, it becomes immersive: a place that feels real, where you can visit. People don’t return to middle earth to see Frodo and Gollum battling over a ring at Mount Doom. They return for the colour, for the magic, for the sense of adventure contrasting with cosy feasts by enormous fires.

In my own Blood Gift Chronicles, layers come from cultural and geographical landscapes, with identities intrinsically linked to the natural world. History, mythology and belief bring texture, wildlife brings sound and aroma, art brings colour, and personal motivations bring drive. And there is no shortage of drive. And for the extra vibrancy comes magic in many forms, from the ethereal, the natural, to the apparent hierarchical, and yet nothing is as it seems in a complex world. I am a sucker for origin stories, ones that defy tropes, that are illuminating, enlightening and surprising. Not to mention venturing beyond the mundane with fantastical creatures pushing the boundaries, and providing magical metaphors for the world as we know it. Needless to say, I’m having fun with Book 3.

For now, it’s back to my characters, forging new paths, battling against powers that seem indestructible. And once again I’m reminded of the role stories play in serving as grounding metaphors.

‘We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable – but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.’

Ursula Le Guin

For the Love of Books #18

Thinking along the lines of complex characters, non-conforming women with agency, and sapphic romance in the fantasy genre, I thought I’d stop by with a recent read:

The Jasmine Throne; by Tasha Suri

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Fantastical Creatures

It’s proving to be a fantasy-filled Saturday here at the British Fantasy Society’s Jubilee event – thank you Zoom! Given a reading slot for The Warder, Book Gift Chronicles Book 2, it was great to be able to squeeze in extracts highlighting the points of view of the three main characters. First up, Luna, a girl plagued by visions. Then her older cousin, Wanda, a young man gifted and also cursed by a shadow bound to him. And finally, someone who Wanda shares history with, a woman gifted to watch over her young friend.

As it turned out, the timing worked well, with my reading following a fascinating and fun Fantastical Creatures panel. Storytelling being as old as time, it’s interesting to consider what sparked the big cat legends, or how big birds carrying babies away might have given rise to the first flying dragons. And in the world as we know it, with species going extinct, how stories of dragons often feature a certain melancholy, analogous to real world extinctions. Whatever the origin, from lumbering giants and fearsome trolls, to magical elves and vampires, mythical creatures have captured imaginations since the dawn of time. Spawned from their environment, whether its selkies in a loch, or bogies chasing hunter/gatherers, they are used to entertain, to uphold morality, to connect to the divine, and warn against dangers. And they teach humility. There are things bigger than us, things beyond our control, things of the unknown.

Dragons featured heavily in the panel, of course, with discussion that got me thinking about the dragons I introduce in my own series. Rather than simply other-worldly, havoc-wreaking creatures that are an extension of the existing natural world, the dragons in my series are two-fold: an introspection of the dragons within us, woven into storylines analogous to trauma, loss, mental health, love, loyalty, and empowerment; and yes… the ultimate power rendering us common folk helpless. And then things change again in the final instalment, Book 3, and oh I’m having fun with the magic in that…

It’s such a great genre to work in, with so much scope, and fun – in many ways a great homage to the magic of childhood. As for incorporating fantastical creatures, the options are endless. Do we lean into existing creatures and their tropes, or create something new? As familiar as dragons are, I’m definitely going for a wholly fresh, new angle. And never say never to inventing something entirely from scratch. With so many folders on file and ideas to mull over, new creatures are in there taking shape. Perhaps the imagination is a muscle. The more you use it, the bigger it gets. Love what you do and I certainly do love creating thought-provoking and colourful fantasy worlds that might also just offer some insight into the world as we know it.

To finish, I’ll leave you with a couple of fantastical creature story recommendations: The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia McKillip, featuring a fantastical menagerie including a swan, a dragon, a lion and a boar; and The Water Bailiff’s Daughter by Yvonne Hendrie, for lovers of selkies.

What are you reading?

For the Love of Books #12

On these dark winter evenings, with Storm Barra bringing blustering gales, it’s the perfect time to cosy up with a good read. I bring you two recommendations, currently among my favourite fantasy reads:

The Empress of Salt and Fortune, by Nghi Vo

The Empress of Salt and Fortune is a delightfully exquisite read. Set against a backdrop reminiscent of Imperial China, it tells the story of the empress In-Yo who is sent south for a political marriage. With her brothers dead, and her armies and their war mammoths defeated, she is alone in a mage-made summer exile. But this northern daughter is powerful enough to bring her enemies down. Told using layers of stories bound in culture and mythology, tenderly drawn on and richly described, I wanted to linger, and so when I finished the book I went straight back to the beginning and started again.

“Angry mothers raise daughters fierce enough to fight wolves.”

The storyteller is Rabbit, an elderly woman and former handmaiden to In-Yo, the Empress of the North. A cleric named Chih (non-binary) and their hoopoe, Almost Brilliant, are listening to the tale of The Empress of Salt and Fortune. ‘Do you understand?’ Rabbit says infrequently, as if she is speaking to the reader as much as to Chih. The tale is told in magical layers, with a unique structure and flow that challenges convention and tired tropes, and offers the reader the feel of complete immersion into the world of these heart-warming characters. Packed into 118 pages this is an epic, incandescent tale of resilience, rebellion, devastating truths and forgotten secrets. Richly-woven characters often side-lined take centre stage to deliver the tale through memory and meditation, with exquisite prose creatively told, unravelling worlds within worlds that leave you literally spellbound.

The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, by Patricia McKillip

Sixteen-year-old Sybel has grown up on Eld Mountain among a fantastic menagerie called there by wizardry. She cares nothing for humans, until a baby is brought to her to raise.

I adored this magical read with its wild mountainous setting, home to Sybel, a complex, flawed, self-critical, compassionate and brave woman. The presence of the child, Tamlorn, awakens unfamiliar emotions in her, and their relationship develops from simple care and compassion set against a complex world. Her home is the wild, and it is through her relationships with the creatures in her life, including a swan, a dragon, a lion and a boar, that we see her true nature reflected. But caring for the boy brings her into the world of men, where revenge becomes her motive no matter the cost.

A fairy tale with great emotional depth, the story tackles issues from love to abuse to blind revenge, providing a fascinating look at how our desires and fears can make or undo us. A range of human relationships are explored from the perspective of a woman who would choose no relationship at all, except for with her menagerie of beasts. Sybil’s character has realness that feels like a refreshing portrayal, one I could get behind from the start. Her personal journey is the emotional depth, revealing what it is to love, to betray, to be misunderstood, to let go, and ultimately to face yourself.

A compelling and weirdly comforting read that now ranks among my favourites.

 

What are you reading?