Commissioned stories have been trickling in for the anthology I’m editing for Flame Tree, Climbing High: Speculative Stories of Female Ambition. It’s an exciting time! I can’t wait to see how everyone’s work fits together, including stories from the open submission call once I get to look through the shortlist as well.
May is a busy month in Brighton, with both the Fringe and Art Open Houses going on. I’ve been to some comedy and theatre performances at the Fringe, and every weekend I’ve walked around and popped in to a few of the open houses.
My favourite Fringe performance had to be Comedy for the Curious, with Robyn Perkins. Robyn explored the topic of motivation—what it is, and what causes it—along with a psychologist and a comedian who played off each other in entertaining ways. How so? Well, the comedian found out he had ADHD onstage! “Fun fact,” said the psychologist, “most Fringe performers have ADHD. They’re out-of-the-box thinkers.” A quiz, and revelations, ensued.
With warm weather, and a recent heat wave, the Fringe’s outdoor spaces have been great. Two of the parks turn into performance spaces, with decorations, free outdoor performances, and family activities to enjoy, including circus toys that I saw some kids playing with. An artsy, creative, communal spirit shines. I watched free aerial arts, listened to an outdoor DJ, and heard someone perform his great-grandfather’s poetry.
As for the art open houses? Sometimes, seeing the display spaces and homes is just as exciting as seeing the art. Look at those beautiful details!
Some of the open houses include gardens, shed studio spaces, and cake and tea you can buy and eat in those gardens. Did I have some? Do you even have to ask?
I saw such a variety of work, everything from fabric crafts to pottery to photography to paintings to sound art. As a creative, it’s encouraging to see that there’s room for such a range, and to appreciate this variety. Someday, I hope to have a little home art studio and make time to play in it. My own illustrations feature in my poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move, which came out last year. It’s a start!
My favourite work was Frances Doherty’s giant floral ceramic sculptures. Recently, she’s made some “chimaeras” combining different plants together in unlikely, yet visibly intriguing combinations.
Finally, I saw the “soft machines” sculptures along the Hove Promenade before they were taken down. A public art installation designed by Ivan Morison, with collaborator Heather Peak, “it explores the bodies that make a city, and the plurality of love, intimacy and desire between them.” There’s more information about this Brighton Festival commission here. The sculptures reminded me of fluffy monsters.
Last month, I promised that I’d share a little about my experience judging this year’s British Fantasy Award for Best Independent Press. I also have a review for an enchanting new romantasy novel, so let’s start with that, and I’ll say more about judging later.
Binding the Cuckoo Review
Binding the Cuckoo is the first foray into independent publishing from Gabriela Houston, author of The Bone Roots and several other novels rooted in Slavic mythology. Well, perhaps it counts as the second, since I got to know Gabriela as the editor for the Kickstarter-backed, beautifully illustrated anthology Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined, to which I contributed a Canadian ghost ship story.
Gabriela kindly sent me a review copy of Binding the Cuckoo. As a fan of her previous work, I was excited to see what her historical fantasy romance had in store.
Here’s the blurb:
1899: A fay grifter seeks fortune and security.
Love was never the plan.
In the late Victorian era, a technological marvel allows scientists to open rifts into the realms of legend. Powerful creatures, weakened and stripped of their memories, are brought to serve the whims of the wealthy elite…
Hare, a young woman with a mythical secret finds herself trapped, facing an unenviable future.
When an equally desperate schoolmistress, Miss Anne Bonningham offers her a chance at freedom, they embark on a daring plan. Disguised as “Miss Edwina Walker,” Hare navigates the treacherous waters of London high society, solely focused on securing a marriage and escaping her past.
However, amidst the glittering balls and intricate social games, as hidden agendas surface and a vengeful figure from her past threatens to expose her true identity, Hare must make a choice: embrace a life of comfort and security or choose freedom and a love that could shatter the very foundation of her world.
If you like your fantasy light, but heavy on the sexual tension, this one’s for you. Hare is an outsider protagonist with few options, and I sympathized with her right away.
In the alternate history, “mythics” are otherworldly beings (mostly fairies) brought into our world, where their magic weakens and memories fade, to serve humans. Hare was betrayed by someone she trusted, and has little idea of who she was before. When offered freedom through an alliance with a somewhat unsavory character, there’s little else she can do.
So, we’re off to London, where Hare poses as Miss Anne Bonningham’s American relative seeking a match. If she can secure a good marriage, both she and her “matchmaker” will have their currently dire futures secured.
Cue the high-society socializing, the kind (if a bit silly and arrogant) duke who takes a shine to Hare, and his lawyer friend who clashes with her again and again, with sparks flying. You could call it a love triangle, but where one option represents security and the other a deeper connection, it’s pretty clear how things are going to turn out. The fun is in getting there.
Along the way, we encounter a variety of mythics who can’t pass as human like Hare can, and struggle to get work. Their interactions are nuanced, as they can magically recognize each other but humans can’t recognize them in the same way. I’d love to know more about them and their world, which is only lightly sketched out. Maybe in a future book?
Binding the Cuckoo is an easy, elegant read. It comes out on October 15, and you can pre-order it now.
Literary Judging: What’s It Really Like?
Any writer reading this is probably intimately familiar with the process of being judged. You sent a piece or pitch to a publication, or a manuscript to an editor or publisher, you wait, and most of the time, you get another rejection letter to add to your growing collection.
I’ve been on both sides of the desk. Along with writing, I used to edit and read submissions for literary magazines. Several years ago, I sat on a panel judging a magazine grant for a Canadian province I’ve never lived in. And this year, I was one of five judges for the British Fantasy Award for Best Independent Press.
The winners of this year’s British Fantasy Awards will be announced at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, which takes place from October 30-November 2. So I won’t be sharing any spoilers here, but I have some insights into the process of judging a literary award.
How do you judge something as subjective as the quality of written work? You start by assembling a panel of judges, who all bring different experiences and opinions. Our group had some degree of consensus around quality, strengths, and weaknesses after reading the material – and it was a lot of material. I read a sample of books from each press, for a total of (I think) 20, and there are more in a box if I want to dive into them later.
Some judging panels agree on criteria and give scores to the material. With others, it’s a more fluid discussion – more of an art than a science.
Both panels I’ve been on have been very respectful groups. I imagine the rest of the British Fantasy Awards were similar, with thoughtful, generous debates and discussions of each work’s respective merits. There were differences of opinion, but everyone had fair input. It came down to a nail-biter, and I got to be the deciding vote.
What I witnessed from award judging was just how many good books, publishers, and works might not win awards, but offer high quality, unique perspectives, and valuable contributions to their genres. That’s something I found when reading submissions for magazines, as well. There’s so much good stuff out there! There aren’t spaces or awards for all of it, and not being “chosen” doesn’t make a work any less worthy.
Someone else winning an award, or a rejection of your story, is not a rejection of you.
Some people like to imagine rivalries in the writing world. Maybe they exist, but that hasn’t been my experience. With speculative fiction especially, I see a bunch of geeks getting excited over each other’s books. With publishing more broadly, when one book does well, that can create space for others, and excited readers are more likely to read something else.
There are unkind people and poor behavior in every industry. But my experience judging an award was one of respect and collegiality. From what I’ve seen, the future of independent publishing in British SFF looks hopeful.
I’ve been meaning to finish and review Evan J. Peterson’s occult detective novella Better Living Through Alchemy since it came out last year. Better late than never, right?
Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of books in order to judge the Best Independent Press award for the British Fantasy Awards. There are a few of us judging each award, and next month, I’ll tell you more about what the experience of judging a literary award is like.
Once I finished that stack of books, I looked at my TBR and there it was, waiting for me – Better Living Through Alchemy, which Evan (who I met through a Clarion West writing group) had kindly given me a review copy for.
At 166 pages, this is a slim but satisfying read, a fast-paced page turner. It’s also not your typical detective novel.
Private investigator Kelly Munn uses her magical and psychic abilities to investigate cases in Seattle along with her cousin and assistant, Critter. One day a client comes in with an equally strange mystery for her to look into. A drug called bardo has appeared on the streets. It’s killing people and leaving their bodies mutated in bizarre ways. It’s a compelling case – and paycheck – that Kelly and Critter can’t refuse.
The characters are charming, with the banter between detectives and clients reading as entertaining and the caring bickering between the two cousins as believable. I enjoyed how the story low-key has a mostly queer cast. Kelly is bi or pan, and Critter is trans and some variety of queer as well.
While Critter and some of the other characters use magical techniques like tarot and dowsing to investigate the mystery, Kelly’s abilities are the most interesting aspect of the heroes’ magic. She has clairolfaction – she can smell feelings and images, which help her intuit leads for the cases she investigates. (Her ability doesn’t seem too far off from synesthesia, just a bit more magical.) Her third-person point of view is peppered with experiences like smelling lies, “green words,” and a mixture of “rightness and wrongness” that smells like “wood smoke and rain mingled.”
Like her colleagues, she supplements her natural abilities with an interesting sort of magical technology. She free-associates words to come up with insights and, at one point, uses something called a “Dreamachine” that once belonged to William Burroughs. I think I want one.
The plot drives the storytelling forward, with one thing leading to another. Resurrection! Demons! Tree-people! Lost gods! The appearance of the drug itself! The tension ramps up, backstories are revealed, twists and turns appear, and everything feels engrossing. By the end of the story, things are… mostly explained, and maybe some of them don’t need to be.
All I can say is, it took me too long to read this book. Don’t be like me – read it now.
Author Interview and UK “Speed Walk”
My friend Mikey Belcher is a fellow American-Canadian transplant to the UK. We went to grad school together, and now he has a fantastic Substack newsletter where he writes about art, architecture, and more. I was delighted to do an author interview with him recently.
He asked me thoughtful questions about my new poetry book, The Heart Decided to Move, we share our experiences of moving to the UK on ancestry visas, and the interview ends with a “speed walk” around some of my favorite places in the UK.
It was fun to be asked what building I’d most like to build out of Lego! Portmeirion, in Wales, of course (see below). Read the full interview here.
More Synesthesia Shenanigans
I’m taking part in a research study at the University of Sussex on synesthesia in families. My mom’s participating too. It’s looking at both synesthetes and their non-synesthetic first-degree relatives. They’re still looking for direct relatives of synesthetes to participate, so if this applies to you or someone you know, you can learn more below or click here to sign up. It’s a paid study that involves color matching and memory tests.
Now I have consistency tests confirming my synesthesia. It felt exciting to have evidence that this was real, that I wasn’t making it all up.
I’ve also signed up for a workshop with the documentary In My Mind’s Eye – Unlocking Synaesthesia. The co-hosts, who run the Let’s Talk Synaesthesia podcast, will be leading sessions on neurodivergent wellbeing, music, and art-making. It’s taking place on October 18 in London, and interested synesthetes can sign up on Eventbrite (space is limited).
This past weekend, I went to an art installation at the Barbican called Feel the Sound. I thought the “multi-sensory installations” sounded both interesting and synesthetic. The exhibit had a lot of cool concepts, such as instruments that use light or sense indirect touch, and AI-generated, light-up melodies that match participants’ descriptions of their experiences with music. There was a lot of AI use in this contemporary exhibit, and I’m not sure how I feel about the infusion of that bland AI-generated writing style in the art world.
As I expected, a lot of the exhibit mixed senses in interesting ways, and that stirred up my mixed senses. I suppose I should have expected that something called “Feel the Sound” would have a lot of what, to me, felt like “weird noises.” Some of them were red or green or shaped like triangles. It felt a bit chaotic in some of the rooms, and calmer in others where the sonic atmosphere was more closely controlled. The choir of trans voices in a room where listeners could rest on body pillows was a highlight, along with screens of visuals synced to music and platforms that vibrate along with sounds. Overall, the experience was a blend of hit and miss for me.
That’s how I’d probably describe my engagement with contemporary art in general, as well as my experiences with synesthesia. I recently tried closing my eyes by a busy highway and watching the colors and shapes that the car noises made in my mind’s eye. It was cool that I could do that… but I quickly lost interest in that little game. I’m the kind of curious person who smells all the roses in the rose garden. But some experiences, it turns out, can be both synesthetic and boring.
I’m writing this fresh from Brighton Pride celebrations this weekend.
And I’m grappling with difficult feelings. It’s hard to lose a parent. And while I was traveling back and forth across continents to visit my father in the hospital, I didn’t have the bandwidth to process other emotions which I’m feeling now.
A lot of people have found themselves on neurodivergent journeys recently. Mine looks a little different from what you see on TikTok videos. I’ve shared a little about it elsewhere, and now I’ll share more about it here.
I used to be in a neurodiverse relationship. That’s how I got involved with a local autism support group, a decade or so before the neurodiversity-affirming movement really took off.
I’m not autistic. I also don’t have ADHD, the other type of neurodivergence that’s gained visibility recently. But years ago, I read about dyspraxia (sometimes called Developmental Coordination Disorder) and thought, “Oh.”
My skill set has always been wildly asymmetrical. I was that kid who couldn’t catch a ball but was reading (and understanding) my mom’s psychology books at age 9. My brain can struggle to process motion. Sense of direction? I’ve barely got one. Dyspraxia made sense – until I attended a dyspraxia conference, and realized I didn’t experience 70% of the challenges the speakers were talking about.
A few years ago, I contacted an expert and we looked at various forms of neurodivergence. I’d thought I had a disability – but I don’t, and my attempts to find accommodations for my challenges had only made me feel worse. I found out instead that I’d been struggling with anxiety symptoms, and had “some sensory things” (not a diagnosis) and a high IQ. I learned some anxiety management techniques, joined Mensa, and got on with things.
There was still a piece missing. And this year, I found it.
Synesthesia, aka the “Sensory Things”
It turns out my brain has another weird thing going on – synesthesia. This is when input to one sense results in an additional sensory experience. Think colors for letters, tastes for sounds, feeling touch when someone else is touched, visualizing sequences in space, etc. It’s a diverse spectrum of traits, and multiple forms often coexist in the same person.
I read about synesthesia as a teenager and found it relatable. It struck a chord, given my colored weekdays (the most common form of synesthesia found in a population study) and the poem I wrote as a child about the colors and personalities of certain numbers. But surely I didn’t really have synesthesia, since I wasn’t actually “seeing” anything.
There’s more information and research on it now. As it happens, most synesthetes are like me, with the extra sensory input experienced in the mind’s eye (associative synesthesia) rather than in the external world (projective synesthesia).
My main forms of synesthesia have to do with color related to physical sensations and music. I experience other forms, too, including some that happen occasionally. I’m still figuring out what things are “normal” for me that aren’t experienced by everyone. Yep, I was 37 years old when I learned that most people don’t ever visualize moving, colored shapes in their minds when music plays.
It’s common for synesthetes to have some of the challenges I do, such as a poor sense of direction, some challenges processing movement, and left-right confusion (which I used to have, but it went away after going on a bunch of hikes). My strengths in memory and creativity are also common with the profile.
Synesthesia has an interesting place in the neurodiversity conversation. It’s one of few “neurodivergent conditions” that’s not typically disabling. There’s less stigma around it at this time, though if you try to articulate your experiences, they sure can sound weird! Some people experience debilitating or distracting versions of synesthesia. Others embrace the “superpower” narrative, with versions of synesthesia that help with remembering information, spotting patterns, or creating spellbinding art of things they see that no one else can.
I’ve had frightening synesthetic moments and stunningly beautiful ones. On the whole, though, my synesthesia is like background noise that I’ve spent most of my life tuning out. I gave it other names – “my wild imagination,” “weird or spiritual experiences,” and “did this really happen or did I make it up?” No wonder I gravitate toward fantasy fiction, where some characters see things that most people can’t. I realize now there’s a synesthetic character in one of my short stories in Dream Signs, and while there’s no “seeing music” in my music-focused novel Chasing Harmony, it has some synesthetic moments too.
I don’t have to “do anything” about my synesthesia, really. But I’m curiously exploring how it works, and trying to figure out how I feel about it. I think this will take a while.
A mediocre painting of a song I heard. Well, it gets the point across…
Magnetospheres and Demon Hunters
A movie just came out that struck a deep chord with me. Magnetosphere, directed by Nicola Rose, is a coming-of-age story about a girl with synesthesia set in Ontario during my own childhood. For me, it couldn’t have been released at a better time.
It was a delight to hear the Canadian accents and to be reminded of watching Comet Hale-Bopp and the girl power era. While my experiences aren’t the same as the protagonist’s, I do see sounds, hear colors, and see feelings on occasion, and like Maggie, I was and am creative and emotional. There were so many things I related to that I cried a few times during the movie, especially when Maggie was singing about being confused by her synesthetic experiences. I also loved her argument with her friend over the colour of Tuesday – some subtle synesthesia in someone else that wasn’t singled out. That’s not to mention the queer subplot, and the comical one where Maggie’s dad is directing a theatrical production where everything goes wrong. Memories from Joan: The Musical were triggered!
I recommend Magnetosphere without reservation, especially if you’re curious to get a sense of what (some types of) synesthesia can be like. The Pharell Williams Lego movie, Piece by Piece, is another great watch for visualizing music-to-color synesthesia. And, like many people right now, I’ve gotten into Netflix’s animated musical KPop Demon Hunters. I’ve been binge listening to the songs. If you’ve seen it, you’ll know that demonic patterns figure heavily in the plot, so it’s interesting that the riff at the beginning and end of “Golden” evokes a compelling visual pattern for me.
I relate to the main character Rumi’s secrecy and shame. The movie struck a chord because I’ve drafted a novel with overlapping themes – music magic, demons, and secrets brought into the open. Oh, and a version of synesthesia, before I realized that’s what I was experiencing. Once I revise my current WIP, I’m going to get back to work on that one.
To quote the movie’s final song:
Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head? I should’ve let the jagged edges meet the light instead Show me what’s underneath I’ll find your harmony The song we couldn’t write This is what it sounds like
Writing News
Next week, I’ll be in Cardiff for EMAG, Mensa’s European annual gathering. I’m on the organizing committee and will be leading a workshop on Creative Writing as part of the program.
Creative Writing
Saturday, 9 August, 9-10 am
Looking for a fun new way to express your thoughts, feelings, and ideas? Have you always wanted to write but not been sure how to get started? In this workshop, you’ll explore a variety of facilitated creative writing exercises, with opportunities to share with the group and get feedback if you wish. Let’s bring our imagination to the page!
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I have two story publications forthcoming this year, and a future poetry event in the works with Custom House Bookshop in London.
I did an author interview recently with fellow writer Christina Consolino, who asked lovely, thoughtful questions.
I’m having fun contributing to the British Fantasy Society’s monthly blogs and judging for the British Fantasy Awards (Best Independent Press means reading a lot of books).
I was given an ARC of The Phoenix Keeper, and here’s my honest review, plus some recipes the characters might like.
I loved this book. It was the perfect thing to read while recovering from illness, and the anxiety rep hit home. I was swept away into a world of magical zoo animals that, while fanciful, felt grounded in reality.
Aila Macbhairan is a phoenix keeper at the San Tamculo Zoo, living out the dream she’s had since she was 8 years old. She works with an endangered Silimalo phoenix in a zoo that hasn’t had an active breeding program for a while, but her fortunes reverse when a nearby facility has some of its phoenixes stolen. Aila must rush to get her facility ready and care for a new bird. What could go wrong? (So. Much.)
Aila has a staunch friend in fellow zookeeper Tanya, and an enemy (initially) in Luciana, who runs the zoo’s griffin show. She resents the show for its cheesy commercialism, and holds a grudge against Luciana based on incidents from their time at university together.
I found the queer rep in this story to be well done. Aila is bi, Tanya is trans, and there’s an adorable sapphic romance that weaves in around the animal shenanigans. Aila’s parents, far more extroverted than her, are also fun characters with their fusion-food pub.
But it’s Aila’s inner journey that got me. Her personality is familiar – bookish, skittish, and socially awkward. She’s as uncomfortable around most people as she is at home around the animals she works with. There’s a bit of mental health advice in the book, and I appreciated reading Aila’s experiences of being underestimated, belittled (especially when she tries to date dragon keeper Connor), and having a rough start with a therapist who didn’t get her, not because I want others to live through these things but because it’s nice to have fictional mirroring. Aila is especially terrified of public speaking. There’s a nice arc where she grows into a sense of purpose that helps her transcend her fears and live as if she’s enough (because of course she is).
One thing I appreciate about the rise in cozy fantasy is the opportunity to read about work in a fantastical world. All kinds of work, not just the world-saving kind. S. A. MacLean works in conservation, and it shows. Aila’s care for her phoenixes ends up carrying the day.
The magical animals feel real; they’re vivid characters, written with attention to the daily details of zoo life. At the same time, they’re wonderfully inventive. We get to read about creatures like peacock griffins, vanishing ducks, and pet carbuncles. (The book has a few illustrations, so we get to see some of them, too.) The world is modern, with phones and plastic souvenirs, and in many ways similar to our own. Yet thoughtfulness permeates the details, geography, and ecology.
The Phoenix Keeper’s writing flows smoothly and is well crafted. It takes effort to create something this engaging to read. I was a little sad to leave Aila’s world, and hope we get a sequel so I can spend more time there.
How can I thank the author? How about with some food fit for a phoenix (keeper)?
Phoenix Food: Awesome Slaw
Silimalo phoenixes eat a lot of veggies, and I think they’d enjoy this salad. I certainly do. I adapted the recipe from Kayti Peschke’s in Caboodle magazine.
Ingredients
1 head of cabbage
1 head of broccoli
2 carrots
a few dill pickles
For the dressing:
4 tbsp mayonnaise
4 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tbsp mustard
sea salt and ground black pepper
Method
Chop the vegetables and mix them in a bowl.
Mix the dressing ingredients in another bowl.
Toss the dressing with the salad and enjoy!
Zookeeper Chow: Aubergine Gochujang Noodles
Aila has a hard time with spice, but I think even she’d enjoy these noodles that match her phoenixes’ fire just a little bit. Recipe from Mob 6: Tasty 6-Ingredient Meals.
Ingredients
1 aubergine (or eggplant), cut into 2cm chunks
2 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp peanut butter
2 packets of vegan instant ramen
1 spring onion, thinly sliced
Method
Preheat the oven to 180° C with fan.
Line a baking tray with baking paper. Toss the aubergines in a bowl with the oil, spread out on the baking tray and roast for 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and pour over the soy sauce, tossing well to coat. Return to the oven for 15 minutes until the aubergine is tender, sticky and caramelised. If it looks a little dry and overdone, add a splash of water to the tray to help you get it saucy and coated again.
In a small bowl, whisk together the gochujang, peanut butter and ramen seasoning packets with 3 tbsp of water. Set aside.
Set a large saucepan of water over a medium heat and bring to a boil. Cook the ramen for 3-4 minutes until tender. Drain in a colander, then add back to the pan and pour in the gochujang mixture. Stir well to combine.
Serve the noodles topped with the sticky soy saubergine and spring onion to garnish.
Rubra the Phoenix’s Hot Apple Toddy
So, I kind of made this up. I was sick, OK? I think this is what I put in there. Feel free to experiment with your own ingredients and portions!
Ingredients
1 part whisk(e)y (with U.S. and U.K. sources, the spelling in this post is all over the place)
3 parts apple juice
a little hot water
a dash of cinnamon
a dash of honey
a dash of lemon juice
1 lemon slice
1 clementine slice
another clementine slice + a raspberry for garnish
Method
Heat the liquids with the cinnamon and honey.
Add the fruit slices.
Add the garnishes to the rim and eat them after you finish drinking.
Happy eating, drinking, and reading! Don’t hesitate to check out this wonderful book!
I’m back from my songwriting retreat in the Peak District, where I spent a week in a converted barn in the countryside with a group of musicians and our facilitator, Murray Webster, who arranged daily activities and masterminded the whole thing.
There was a lot of talent in that one living space! Guitar chords rang out, piano melodies took shape, and voices harmonized. We had an eclectic mix of genres, instruments, and areas of expertise as well as experience levels.
Each morning, we were given a brief to work on for the day, with a short introduction to the theory behind it. These mostly took collaborative forms. One day, each of us wrote a title, lyrics to someone else’s title, and music for someone else’s lyrics. Another day, we worked in trios to create a minor key tune.
We performed our pieces in the late afternoon and had songshares in the evenings, going around the circle and performing songs we’d written. We cooked and cleaned together, took country walks, nighttime walks to a pond full of toads, and outings to nearby villages.
The saddest part of the retreat was when one participant had to leave on the first day due to a pet’s death. She was a harpist and had brought a stunning instrument with her, only to pack it up and drive back to Glasgow in her malfunctioning truck.
While not perfect, on the whole, the group was surprisingly harmonious – kind of like our tunes. It helped that we all wanted to be there.
I wrote a lot and got some useful pointers on my rudimentary guitar playing. I also decided to let go of a project I’d been certain I would do for the past few years. At least in the iteration I had in mind, it was no longer the right thing at the right time.
I’m now collaborating on some songs with one of the other participants. And I found a second-hand alto saxophone in a local shop, a beautiful instrument with a black body and flower design. It’s an instrument I used to play but had never owned. Stay tuned – it may show up on a track at some point!
In other news, the draft recording of my short radio drama is done, featuring original music and an eclectic mix of accents, and one of my short stories was accepted for an illustrated folklore anthology coming out in the autumn. I can’t wait to share both of these with you!
We all get anxious sometimes. But for some of us, anxiety can be intense or pervasive. I’ve been coming to terms lately with the role that anxiety plays in my life. It sounds great to be a relaxed person who doesn’t worry about much of anything…and these people exist, but I’m not one of them.
Nor is cartoonist Maureen “Marzi” Wilson. Wilson uses the handle of “Introvert Doodles” online and has published a number of graphic books about introversion. Her “introvert dream house” drawing made the rounds on social media a while ago, and I was ready to move in. Too bad it wasn’t real and affordable, right?
She begins her book with a disclaimer: “FYI: This book will not ‘cure’ you.” Instead, it offers solace to the anxious by reassuring us that we’re not alone.
It’s full of simple, colorful cartoons as adorable as they are relatable. It’s an autobiographical book, with the little blonde, pink-cheeked Marzi doodle featuring throughout.
The book is broken thematically into parts, touching on themes such as social anxiety, responsibilities, and recognizing the need for support.
Marzi’s cartoons are often hilarious. One page features a series of 9 faces illustrating: “How anxious are you today?”, from a smiling “doing good” to 8’s “complete meltdown” to 9’s x-eyed, tongue-lolling-out “I’m literally dead.” Another shows Marzi deciding to make a to-do list and then getting buried in a pile of yellow paper.
Some sections are heavier on the text, like a page of panels labeled “What anxiety feels like.” I loved this descriptive bit: “Being inside of a kaleidoscope. The world is too bright, and everything keeps changing. As soon as I figure out the pattern, it shifts.”
I enjoyed the “Anxiety Bingo” card:
Some of these symptoms are familiar, such as “Awkward st-st-stuttering” and “Cannot adult today”. And I love how she marked the “Free” space, instead, as “Never feeling free”!
There were many times throughout this reading experience when I felt seen. Only being ready to speak up when the conversation has moved on? Travel anxiety? Comparing my weaknesses to other people’s strengths? Check! And there were some great pages that were less relatable to me but will ring a bell with others, such as worst-case-scenario thoughts about hiking up a mountain, only to run into a volcanic eruption at the top!
The book covers a lot of ground with humor and empathy, insisting on the need to be gentle with ourselves when things are tough inside our brains. I enjoyed the self-care ideas sprinkled throughout, such as the concept of making different to-do lists for good days, when we have the energy to work on our goals, and hard days, when we’re doing great if we make it out of bed.
Sometimes the world is too much. Sometimes our brains are too much. Kind of Coping is a soothing read for those times.
These past two years have not been easy, have they? Thank you, COVID-19. Despite all that, I’ve been lucky to get through it all and try some new, interesting things.
PRE-ORDER TIME! (And Other Publication News)
My short story collection, Dream Signs, has faced publication delays but is now in its final stages before being launched. I’ll post an update as soon as I have a final date. AND you can pre-order it here now! 🙂 Isn’t the cover gorgeous?! I also have a YA novel, Chasing Harmony, coming out in Summer 2022. Again, I’ll update as more info is released by the publisher. It’s about classical music, messy families, and high expectations, and I love the cover for that one too.
My dark fantasy novella “The Cliffman” came out this year as part of the horror collection Hard for Hope to Flourish. (It’s really a novelette, but the publisher’s calling it a novella; I, on the other hand, had thought it was a really long short story.) My short story “A Limit to Growth” was published in The Fiddlehead after 10 or so years of rejections. I have author interviews online for Hard for Hope to Flourish and The Fiddlehead, along with a write-up for The Fiddlehead where I recommend a book. It’s interesting to note that both of these pieces were initially part of the same story, featuring a fun-loving younger sister and an older sister who loved math (thanks to Meg Murry for the character inspiration), before diverging wildly (and I mean wildly – modern fairytale vs. realistic take on cybersex chat rooms).
Personal Milestones
With lockdowns easing, I’ve gotten out and tried new things when I’ve been able to. I learned to paddle a kayak with a weekly meetup group. (I also learned I’ll probably never be a champion kayaker!) I continued, to a lesser extent, the running habits I’d established during lockdowns when we were all allowed to leave our house once daily for exercise. This autumn, I tried my first Parkrun, a weekend 5K event, and found it surprisingly fun. I also started taking horseback riding lessons.
In October, I spent a week in the Scottish Highlands on a working holiday at a horse farm. I loved the Highland Ponies, and it was great to spend time in Scotland again. With travel restrictions in place, I’ve definitely seen more of the UK during this pandemic than before. I spent two weeks this summer on a workaway at an estate in rural Wales, something I probably would never have done otherwise and am glad I did.
This was a year I kept a certain balance, maintaining schedules and habits without necessarily planning to do so, and it surprised me. Who is this person who exercises regularly, gets plenty of sleep, and cooks and eats healthy meals? Recent actions and living through a pandemic have shown me the value in routine.
On the artistic front, I started volunteering at a local theatre and took a songwriting class, both of which were lots of fun and have opened up new ways of thinking creatively. I’ve been writing and experimenting with different formats for stage, song, and storytelling.
I’m wrapping up just-over-2-years as Development Editor for ICE Publishing and starting a new job in 2022, one where writing is part of the professional focus. I’m particularly proud of the monthly author blog I created, with advice for prospective authors on the nuts and bolts as well as the psychological journey of writing a book, which will soon be published as a manual. I look forward to seeing what my next career step brings.
Here are a few things that brought me joy in 2021: baby peacocks, amiable chubby horses, making up and recording bits of songs on my phone, finally getting my COVID ‘jabs’, many good books, and a free cactus. What brought you happiness during this generally rough year? What milestones are you proud of?
“Where do you get your ideas?” It’s a dreaded question for many writers. Sometimes, people outside of the writing world focus on ideas as the holy grail of literature. If you have a good idea, they may suggest, you might as well have a book already. And woe betide if someone steals your idea!
The relationship between writing and inspiration isn’t that straightforward. By the time I finish a story, I seldom remember where the initial idea came from, as it has often gone on to integrate a blend of things I’ve been thinking about.
And the idea that any writer has a monopoly on “an idea” is an odd one. It’s all in the execution. Joseph Campbell found commonalities behind many stories from around the world and created the Hero’s Journey framework from this common ground. A hero goes on a quest… how many stories have been created around this basic idea?
I could also argue that genres are ideas. Two people fall in love… that’s the premise behind most of the romance genre, and you can write a wide range of diverse stories from that premise depending on the personalities and life situations of the characters.
More specifically, tropes are ideas. Want to write about a magic school? Surely no one’s done that one before. Very little is original in writing, but ideas can be combined in innovative and interesting ways.
What makes an idea stick for a writer? That’s hard to say, as I suspect the reasons are highly personal. In my case, a story concept has to acquire a clear plot and be personally compelling. If I start writing but don’t know what happens after, say, chapter 5, then that’s the end of it for me. If I’m bored after writing an outline, that’s also the end of a promising-sounding idea. An idea needs to lead somewhere intriguing in order for me to follow it through.
If you have a cool idea and want to write from it, by all means, go for it! But don’t worry aout whether someone else has written or might write the “same thing.” Two people can write with the same premise and end up with very different books, given the differences in authors’ voices, focuses, experiences and interests. And both those books can be good, too.
And don’t worry about whether it’s a weird idea or a bad idea. Is it an interesting concept to you? Can you develop a story from it that will maintain your attention until it’s finished? “Weird” and “bad” ideas can make good books if the storytelling is good, just like “good” ideas can make lackluster books if the storytelling is bad. (You can probably think of examples for both sides.)
The hard part, and the rewarding part, of an idea is the execution. Write that story. Put in the time, craft, and effort. The finished project will be so much more than an “idea.”
The pandemic has led a lot of people to take up new creative hobbies. Last November I tried NaNoWriMo for the first time in lockdown. Last month, I took a songwriting class.
Making up songs is something I’ve done off and on, casually throughout my life, but never pursued in earnest. As a kid, I invented theme songs for the stories I acted out with toys. I sent my grandparents a cassette tape of songs about cats that I improvised. (Did my long-suffering relatives appreciate my off-key, feline-chase-scene version of the William Tell Overture? Probably not!)
In first grade, I wanted to be a composer who wrote musicals when I grew up, before the writing dreams took hold. As a teenager, I had a folder of terrible lyrics stuffed in a drawer. I wasn’t a serious musician and I don’t have a gift for singing, but music has always compelled me. I wrote my first full-length novel about a musical prodigy, and am working with a publisher on it now.
In lockdown, I had some song ideas again. Then I revisited the music theme in fiction by starting a fantasy novel about a composer, and realized that part of me wanted to turn those songs in my head into real music as badly as my character did. As music re-emerged as a force in my life, I downloaded some composition software called MuseScore, tried to put notes to some past songs, and found a songwriting class.
The class was run by Murray Webster of London Songwriters, an experienced singer-songwriter and teacher. It lasted a month and sessions met online one evening per week. Murray teaches courses on both lyric and melody. I enrolled in “Write Great Melodies.”
I’m glad I took that class. It was a small group, and much new (to me) material was presented. The sessions focused on rhythm, melodic notes, chords, and pitch/prosody, with intensive teaching and lots of examples from popular music. So much skill goes into creating something like Katy Perry’s song “Firework,” and it was insightful to learn how the pieces came together and why each one worked the way it did. Each week had listening and composing homework. I learned a lot in a short time and am still unpacking it.
I appreciated that Murray believed in his students. He encourages everyone to express themselves and comes from the standpoint that everyone can learn and create. I left the class reflecting on the concept of unique voice. Because everyone is different (all the participants had different experience levels and backgrounds when it came to music and lyrics), no one else can write your songs. And maybe someone else will like them.
We all have might-have-beens and dreams that never came to pass. Some of these aren’t possible in our world. (I’ll likely never fly on a broomstick.) Others might be worth giving a go.
Since lockdown has eased, I’ve tried a lot of new things this year: horseback riding, kayaking, doing a Workaway, and now the songwriting class. The world seems full of wonder when I think about how much there is to learn and how many possibilities there are for the years ahead.
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