I’m writing this from the Royal Court Theatre in London where, as a Writers’ Card member, I have free use of their writing space. While I don’t have a garden/yard of my own, my downstairs neighbours said yes to my request to keep potted plants in the gravel-filled space out front, and I recently had a salad of fresh lettuce I grew.
This weekend, I watched Brighton’s Pride parade, brought my books to a DJed Pride event to sell, and went to a cat cafe, where a furry little rascal named Fifi tried to steal my creamy drink.
Writing wise, I’ve been busy. I took part in two podcasts with The Good Book Life: Protecting Pride, which discussed the growing trend of removing Pride and LGBTQI+ displays from UK libraries and the importance of representation in the face of censorship, and Reading by the Swamp: Alternative Summer Reads, where we recommended unconventional favourites for the season.
I have a new story published in Mythaxis. “Rooted” features workplace burnout, a garden/forest Workaway, and an uncanny hostess. Talk about “getting back to your roots!” You can read it here, or listen to an audio version.
Illustration for my story “Rooted” in Mythaxis
I took part in Aggh! Zine’s zine-making workshop, where I made a playlist zine for my YA novel Chasing Harmony (themes: gifted kid burnout, bi angst, Canada in the 90s/00s, and lots and lots of music). You can see the zine below (so much fun to make!), and listen to the Spotify playlist for my book here.
But…
So often, there’s a “but.”
When Plans Change
Publishing is a changeable business, and it just so happens that my entire publication schedule has changed at once.
I had a book planned for release this year. My literary romance novella, the project that got me through lockdown, is now going to be out next year – fall 2027 – instead.
The anthology I’m editing has moved from a March 2027 release to a June 2027 release.
My other planned 2027 book will, most likely (hopefully), be a 2028 book.
I’m looking forward to launching these books on their revised timelines. And it feels like a big adjustment at a time when multiple changes have converged.
Other things that I was hoping for, planning for, this year didn’t end up happening at all. A theatre show didn’t happen. A festival didn’t happen. Some big personal plans, the type of thing I don’t write about in newsletters, also didn’t happen.
I’ve been sitting with my disappointment when plans fall through, and asking myself, “What can I do instead? What’s within my control?”
Often, we do our best, but outcomes are partly or wholly beyond our control.
We can’t necessarily turn a “no” into a “yes,” or a “later” into a “now.”
We can, however, to paraphrase a saying, look for a window when a door closes.
Collecting Rejections
Writers get a lot of rejections.
I first read about the idea of collecting these rejections in a Literary Hub article when it came out in 2016. Writer Kim Liao proposed the idea of collecting 100 rejections a year. If you aim to get rejected by that many magazines, fellowships, residencies, or whatever else, you’ll likely get a few acceptances along the way.
I didn’t end up actively counting rejections at the time, though I did start tracking my story submissions.
More recently, actor and content creator Gabriella Carr has gone viral for pursuing 1000 rejections. And Jia Jiang has written a book about rejection therapy (as he calls it), after challenging himself to face rejection for 100 days in a row by asking for unusual things. Beyond the literary world, rejection can be pursued as a confidence-building exercise or a way to increase personal resilience.
Since I started hearing more “nos” this year, I’ve created a spreadsheet. I list the things I’ve applied or asked for, when, and the result. Most of them are “nos.” But a few are “yeses.”
We can’t always control the answers we get, or the plans that change. But we can ask.
What have you asked for lately? What would you like to?
Happy Spring! I have two pieces of news this month.
First (I finally get to announce this), I’m editing an anthology for Flame Tree’s Beyond & Within series. Those are beautiful books with shiny covers and exciting new stories. You may remember me sharing some pictures of them earlier.
Women’s ambition is not always welcomed, let alone encouraged. Speculative fiction is a context that offers other possibilities (and worlds), where writers and readers imagine what could be. Climbing High: Speculative Stories of Female Ambition will feature stories exploring contexts where female ambition is treated differently, aspiration and achievement in the face of adversity, and ambitions that extend beyond what’s possible in our contemporary world. This anthology takes an empowering stance of embracing ambition while being unafraid to explore the costs and consequences that characters may face in doing so and the impacts of ambitions pursued or fulfilled.
Stories may engage with the question of navigating disparate values and commitments (the often-asked and often-sexist question of “How do you balance x and y?”), or they may abandon all that, with characters who prioritise their desires above all else. Whether characters are reshaping the world(s), themselves, or aiming to brew the best cup of tea, their drives are the driving force of their stories. Contributors may feel free to question assumptions or norms related to women or gender while they’re at it. Authors are encouraged to explore spaces between representation and aspiration and be as bold as they like in imagining what could be.
This will be a fascinating new anthology for our Beyond & Within series. We’re looking for around four stories to join the selection curated by Melanie Bell!
Melanie Bell is a Canadian writer living in the UK. Her books include a poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move; a YA novel, Chasing Harmony; a short story collection, Dream Signs; and a nonfiction book, The Modern Enneagram, co-authored with Kacie Berghoef. Her novella The Cliffman was included in the literary horror collection Hard for Hope to Flourish, and one of her stories is featured in the Whispers in the Earth illustrated anthology of world folklore.
Melanie and Hannah Doyle co-wrote Joan: The Musical which was performed in the Brighton Fringe in May 2025. Her short plays have appeared onstage at the Tower Theatre and Barons Court Theatre in London, on Morley College Radio, and in Liverpool’s 24 Hour Play Fest. She loves art, music, wondering and wandering.
Multiple submissions are fine but must be in separate emails.
Simultaneous submissions are fine but you must have the right to license your story in an anthology.
Stories that used AI for planning, editing, modifying or generating text will not be accepted. Please declare in your submission email if you have used AI in any way.
For accepted stories we pay Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) rates of 8 cents/6 pence per word for original stories.
We will aim to read each story and confirm its status within 4 months of the submission deadline.
Payment for the chosen stories will be made within 30 days of the final advertised publication date (see our website flametreepublishing.com for details), although some may be paid earlier than that.
Submission does not imply the right to publication. Each story will be read and assessed by the selection panel.
Please only submit unpublished/original/new stories for consideration. Reprints will not be accepted for consideration through this submissions route.
We’re always looking for better ways of working so we’ve tweaked our submission process to allow us to read more stories, and spend more time assessing the balance of our books.
Submissions must use the dedicated email address.
The subject line of the email must be the story title.
The file with the story must be attached to the email (.docx, .doc or .rtf format).
The name of the file must match the name in the subject line.
If submitting more than one story, please submit one story per email.
Other useful tips for a more successful submission:
The file name of the submission must be the story name only.
Please just use spaces between words in the title (not _ or – ).
If the story name starts with A or The, please use it at the beginning of the file name.
Story length is most likely to be successful at 2000–4000 words, but we will still read stories slightly outside this range.
If submitting a story that has recently been submitted to us for consideration to another anthology, please state this in the submission email.
Deadline for submissions is 3rd May 2026.
This is what the anthologies look like!
Literary Tea Salon With Bird & Blend Tea Co.
Here’s another collab I’m excited for! Bird & Blend Tea Co. is my favourite local tea shop. Their products are high quality and delicious. If you’re based in the UK, their shops offer free tastings and are well worth a visit, and they sell online as well.
So, while sampling some tea at the shop, I suggested a literary event, and the Bird & Blend team was interested in hosting one this spring. Here are the details for our Literary Tea Salon on May 11:
Join local author Melanie Bell and Bird & Blend Tea Co. for writing exercises, an author reading, and a book-themed tea tasting.
Monday, May 11 from 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm
Literary Tea Salon
Join us for a cosy, bookish evening blending two good things – writing and tea!
Local author Melanie Bell will lead participants in some creative exercises, read from her work, and answer questions about the writing process, while the Bird & Blend team will offer a selection of their literary-themed teas to taste.
Location
Bird & Blend Tea Co.
41 Gardner Street Brighton and Hove BN1 1UN
Hosted in Bird & Blend’s flagship Brighton store, come along alone, with a loved one or in a group…all are welcome!
The store is fully accessible to customers in wheelchairs with NCP parking nearby. Please note there is no customer toilet on site but there is a wheelchair accessible toilet available in a nearby venue. We can tailor our experience to most disabilities – just let us know when booking.
Happy 2026! I wrote a New Year story to share with you all, set in the world of my cozy fantasy novel (soon to be in the editing stage before submissions).
I also had a holiday story called “Forest Creatures” published online on Christmas Day. It’s not a spicy tale per se, but it shares a venue with several and I read it previously at a Kinky Storytelling event, so take that as you will when it comes to readership. “Join us for a Christmas walk through the forest in this enchanting sapphic winter tale by Melanie Bell.” Here it is!
And here’s my New Year story for you to enjoy.
New Year, New Ewe
It was New Year’s Eve. Tim wandered around Brighton alone. Through the Laines, around back alleys, walking blindly. By the time he realized that nothing around him looked familiar, he felt it was too late to get his bearings. The shops looked interesting. Might as well poke around.
Healthy Habits, read a sign over a bright blue door. A peek through the windows revealed the usual rows of vitamins and supplements, along with an odd mishmash of fitness equipment, food, and who knows what. A stupid, hopeful voice in his head piped up: Maybe something in here will help me be less of a failure. Half listening to it, he stepped inside.
An old-fashioned bell rang at his arrival. A shiny red bicycle greeted him. Maybe he’d get into cycling in the new year. Or maybe not. He eyed the dumbbells – he already had some at home, and used them intermittently. He shook his head at the green smoothies and fruit-and-nut energy balls in the fridge. He knew from experience that they tasted like grass. Kaley had loved those sorts of things. But Kaley had left him.
“New year, new you,” he mumbled under his breath. “As if anyone gets a ‘new you’.”
“What’s that, love?” An elderly woman approached him, wearing a name badge. She moved more spryly than he’d expect of someone her age – in fact, she practically floated. Adults can’t float, Tim reminded himself. Then he realized how stupid that thought was. Children couldn’t float either, even if he’d imagined he could while playing Superman.
“Nothing.” Tim’s cheeks colored. He hadn’t expected anyone to hear him.
“You wait right here,” said the grey-haired, round-cheeked woman, departing soundlessly. How? She must be into all sorts of crazy fitness things, if she ran this shop.
As Tim browsed a shelf of vitamins, undecided on whether he needed any, the woman reappeared, holding a leash attached to a large and fluffy…
Dog? That wasn’t a dog. It was round, wooly, and white mixed with dove grey. Its tail was short, its ears pointed. “Baaa,” it said.
“You have a pet sheep?!” exclaimed Tim in delight. “Or is it a shop sheep? I like the sound of that – shop sheep!”
“You said you wanted a new ewe,” the shopkeeper grinned, “and Eunice here is looking for a home.”
Or maybe it was Ewe-nice? She didn’t spell it out.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” said Tim as a chill crept down his spine. This situation was getting surreal.
“Do you have a garden?” the woman asked.
“Well… yes…” Tim had kept the house when Kaley left. He’d bought her half, leaving him with all the space and her with all the money. Now she was able to travel, like she’d always wanted. He saw her pictures on social media, of faraway cities and beaches, while he sat in the same old city by the same old beach.
“I married you because I was supposed to,” she’d told him at last. “Not because I ever wanted…”
“You never wanted to be here,” said Tim. She didn’t disagree.
“Then it’s all sorted,” the strange shopkeeper was saying in the present, and Tim had a terrifying feeling that he’d missed some important context while lost in his memories. “Here are her winter supplements.” He heaved a burlap bag at Tim, which he lifted tentatively, surprised to find it lighter than expected. Some sort of grain? He supposed she would also eat his…grass?
“And this is for her bedding.” She heaved a second sack his way.
This was madness. He didn’t want a sheep!
“Baaa,” said Eunice, her nose moving closer to the burlap bag. He pulled it out of the way.
“How much is she?” he asked.
“Forty-nine kilograms,” said the shopkeeper. “Very healthy.”
“No, I mean, how much does she cost?” That eerie feeling strengthened again. Tim’s skin was full of goosepimples. Had there been a person in front of him? Had they disappeared?
So Tim found himself walking home with two sacks over his shoulders and a sheep on a leash. Once outside the Healthy Habits shop, he recognized a nearby street and recovered his bearings. Eunice trotted obediently along after him. He supposed he would need to build her a fence so she didn’t run off. And did she need a barn or something? Well, he had some space in the garage…
As he strolled homeward, passersby approached to comment. “Is that your sheep?” “What’s her name?” “Can I pet her?” A pair of small children reached out to touch Eunice while their father watched nervously.
“So, Eunice,” said Tim once they arrived at his place, “I guess this is your new home. Why don’t I set up a place in the garage for you while I figure out if I need to build a fence in the yard or what.”
Kaley used to keep a work bench in the spot where Tim set down straw bedding. He put some grain in a bucket and filled a salad bowl with water. As Eunice ate and drank with the garage door safely closed behind her, Tim frantically searched online for information.
He called his friend Billy, who worked as a contractor, to put together the fence and shelter the internet said a sheep needed. “A shopkeeper gave you a what?” exclaimed Billy over the phone. He drove over as fast as he could. Eunice ran over to greet Billy as soon as he got out of the car, acting as if he had treats. He did.
“Hello, cutie.” Billy scratched behind Eunice’s ears. He looked up at Tim. “Are you sure you’re up for taking care of her?”
“I… suppose,” Tim grumbled.
“Well, new year, new ewe, innit?” Billy chuckled. He got to work on the fence.
Everybody loved Eunice. Tim was almost jealous.
On New Year’s Day, he did his usual video call with his parents. He thought of it as a duty, a depressing affair since Kaley’s departure without producing grandkids and his own persistent singleness, which bothered him more in the abstract sense – the feelings of failure, the hit to his status – than it did in the concrete, day-to-day sense of not having someone around.
This time, though, he had something to talk about. He turned his phone camera on the sheep.
“Isn’t she precious?” Tim’s parents explained. They were so distracted by her “fuzzy little ears” that they neglected to ask their usual probing questions.
Still, Tim let out a sigh of relief when the call was done. He turned to Eunice and patted her nose. For the first time in two years, he wasn’t alone for the new year.
That week, he had a date lined up with someone he’d matched with on an app. “I have great expectations for this one,” he proclaimed to Eunice as he filled her water bowl. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t.”
But when Fatima the accountant asked about his hobbies as they sat and sipped their coffee, Tim finally had something to say. He showed pictures of Eunice on his phone and got Fatima laughing when he shared the story of how she’d almost knocked him down as he brought her food. She even ordered a second coffee.
We may or may not be a fit, thought Tim at the end of the date, but she seemed happy to be there, in a way Kaley never did. Did I know how to recognize unhappiness when I saw it?
And there he was, thinking about his failure again. It had stayed out of focus for the whole date, when usually, when meeting women, that was all he could think about.
He rushed back home and checked on Eunice in her enclosure. That was his routine now, apart from work. Feed the sheep, water the sheep, check on the sheep. He had nightmares sometimes where something terrible happened to Eunice and it was his fault.
But now… had it?
She lay upside down on the grass, legs in the air. Tim hurried over. Her head was stretched out to the side. Maybe she was just sleeping? Did sheep sleep like that?
His phone told him a dire story: she may have rolled over, but sheep on their backs are stuck. They can’t get up by themselves; their stomach gets bloated, and they’ll die. How long had she been like this?
Tim had never rolled over a sheep before, nor imagined he’d have to. Nervously, he opened the fence and approached her. Eunice gave a pathetic bleat. Her belly looked puffy, her legs cartoonish.
Tim set his phone in the grass and tried to follow the diagram he’d found, placing his arms around Eunice’s shoulders and heaving her up. She was bulky and heavy. Sweat rolled down his back. But Eunice gave little resistance. After some awkward pulling and lugging, hands deep in her thick grey-white wool, he got the sheep right way up.
She wobbled at first, like a drunk. Her legs bowed. Tim worried there was something wrong with her, that he’d come home too late. But after a few staggering steps, she seemed back to normal.
Tim grabbed extra feed for her. “You could have died,” he said.
She was alright now. But what about tomorrow?
He checked on Eunice first thing in the morning and was relieved to see her standing upright. She ran toward him in greeting. “Baaa!”
“Baaa to you, too,” he said, scratching her chin. And wondering. And worrying. Had Billy been right? Was he not up to taking care of a sheep?
Did he even want to take care of a sheep?
There were so many steps he had to do that he hadn’t done yet. Registration. Veterinary care. Getting more food. Learning how to care for an animal from real live people, not his phone.
Eunice was loveable, but he hadn’t chosen her. He’d taken this sheep home in a sort of fever dream – perhaps because he was too polite to refuse.
Maybe that was how Kaley had felt about him.
But where else could Eunice go?
Every spare moment of that day, he looked for answers. He found a number of sanctuaries and rescues in the region, and began making phone calls. “I was given a sheep who needs a home,” he explained, “but I don’t think my garden is the right one for her.”
One sanctuary seemed especially welcoming and thorough. So Tim and Billy loaded Eunice in Billy’s truck and took a trip out to the countryside.
A black-and-white farmhouse sat surrounded by rolling green hills and tumbling fields where animals grazed. Horses nuzzled each other, cows chewed their cud, ducks milled about a pond, and a herd of sheep in many colors faced the road as their truck approached.
“Hello,” said a man in overalls and work boots as they approached. “I’m Michael, owner of the sanctuary.”
And he and Tim were shaking hands before Tim had realized he’d moved. Had he walked up, or had he floated?
“Let’s have a look at Eunice, shall we?”
Michael and Eunice took to each other right away, and the more Tim saw of the farm, the more he liked it. He knew the sheep would be safe and happy here, among a friendly herd.
Even if part of him would miss her.
“Do you take visitors?” he asked. “Or volunteers?”
So, to Billy’s amusement, Tim began spending every other Saturday at an animal sanctuary, tending to cows, chickens, and donkeys. He may not have had his own kids, but he looked after plenty – of the goat kind. He made new friends among the volunteers. And he always gave Eunice a fond scratch.
Then he drove home and rested, content in his own company.
A few people may get lucky in the writing world. For most of us who look successful, good luck and bad luck whirl around in a sort of tango.
In 2021, a small press called Lost Fox Publishing published my short story collection, Dream Signs. They were a nice team and presented the book with a beautiful cover (thanks to Rob Chandler for the design).
Shortly after publication, Lost Fox closed. The other book I’d contracted with them is still sitting, unpublished, on my computer. Dream Signs, for a while, was nearly unavailable, with just a few copies online and on my shelf at home.
Now, I’m delighted to say that Dream Signs is back! I’ve published a second edition of the collection, which I read from last Friday at Strong Women, Strange Worlds’ QuickReads event. You can pick up an ebook or paperback copy here. Feel free to share – my book is available again, and hopefully will find new readers!
Anthologies and Events
I’ve had a bunch of publications at once. First, the e-books from the world folklore anthology Whispers in the Earth have been sent out to people who pledged in the Kickstarter. Below is Gabriela Houston’s beautiful linocut illustration for my story, “Ghost Ships Passing in the Night.” There’s an illustration for every story, and the book looks gorgeous. The hard copies will ship in December!
Second, my poem “Directions to the Underworld” has been published in Augur magazine, issue 7.2. You can read a few of the pieces (though not my poem) or get your copy here.
Third, my short story “Picking Hazelnuts with the Devil,” inspired by British tree folklore, has been published in the Brighton NightWriters anthology Echoes of Light. You can purchase a copy here, and there will be a launch party in Brighton on November 1.
I’ve had an exciting weekend of writing events, reading with Strong Women, Strange Worlds on Friday. Check out their events here, featuring women and nonbinary writers of speculative fiction! They include book giveaways and are always fabulous.
Saturday was the local Creative Writing workshop I hosted as a fundraiser for Survivors’ Network, supporting survivors of sexual violence and abuse in Sussex. We had a lively and engaged group participating in writing exercises and sharing best practices for getting that project started or finished. I loved doing the workshop and learned from everyone there. Thanks for coming, and for supporting a good cause! East Brighton Trust, the CIC that provided space for us, will post more about the event this week, and I’ll share their photos and blog on social media.
Now I’m catching my breath and basking in the quiet. Here are my intentions for October – a slower, more reflective time to do deep work on projects.
October is cozy. This month, I'll get things done slowly. October is pumpkins, coffee, and wine. October is easy, and everything's fine.
If you write both long and short fiction, you’ve probably experienced differences between these two lengths of storytelling. As I’ve worked on two books, each focused on fiction of a different length, I’ve been thinking about the contracts between these forms and how to choose the best length for a given project.
I had a short story collection, Dream Signs, published by Lost Fox Publishing in December. I also have a novel, Chasing Harmony, forthcoming this summer. The publisher, Read Furiously, is lovely to work with and has recently shared my author bio on their website.
Both long and short fiction are ways to tell a story. The scope and focus of the story can (some would say must) change depending on the length. And let’s not forget about intermediate length forms like novellas, which have elements of both. I’ve enjoyed writing in these forms, and my novella “The Cliffman” is published in both Hard for Hope to Flourish and Dream Signs.
If you have a story you want to tell, here are some things to consider when deciding if it would work best as a shorter or longer piece.
How big is the story?
The more complex the tale you want to write, the more easily it will lend itself to a longer form. If you have a sprawling world or several points of view in mind, for instance, a novel might be a better storytelling vehicle than a short story.
What pace works best for your story?
Sometimes I have a brief idea or concept that I want to explore and not much of a plot. Sometimes the plot I have in mind is a simple one that can play out over a few pages. In these cases, I keep the writing process brief with a short story. When I want room to sprawl out and develop a longer story, I start a novel, a form where I can describe minutiae and include digressions without wasting page space. The idea and characters have to be compelling enough for me to spend lots of time with them, but when they are, I want to spend that time with them.
Is this a new idea you want to test out?
Sometimes a short story is a good testing ground for an idea that you might want to experiment with but aren’t sure you want to invest in. You can try out new characters, settings, and concepts in short form to see if they work and get a sense of who or what they are.
Which length do you prefer?
If you’re pressed for time right now, maybe you’d rather work on a short story. But if you read mostly novels and love crafting cliffhangers, for instance, maybe you’d rather write a novel. Some writers find one length suits them much better than another. Others enjoy the challenge of both.
There are many questions you can ask yourself when deciding whether to write a short story or a novel. (Of course, you could write both, but you probably want to get started with one project.) The ones above are what I tend to think about. What about you? Do you have a length preference when writing fiction?
My short story collection, Dream Signs, is out from Lost Fox Publishing, and this month I’m sharing an excerpt from one of the stories. In “Like Mother, Like Son,” a city maintenance AI (artificial intelligence) named Peter does his job while observing his programmer “mom”, who doesn’t realize he is sentient, and seeking something more meaningful to do with his time and abilities. I hope you enjoy this opening to the story!
Like Mother, Like Son
Every day, Peter would do his boring and tedious job. It began with monitoring the pipes for cracks and leaks. Then came the electrical wiring, followed by the city’s network setups. He devoted afternoons to the structural integrity of municipal buildings. Not a brick, nail, or patch of mortar went unchecked. From his home on his mother’s desktop, he surveyed the miles of infrastructure he was connected to, mending and outsourcing as needed. All the while, Mom would sit in a black swivel chair and hum her out-of-tune songs. Hum and code. Code and hum. Wearing pyjamas featuring little green heads that Peter’s image matching algorithm identified as the popular character, “Zombie Bob.”
Sometimes she would sing the words out loud:
“Some little bug is gonna find you someday/Some little bug will creep behind you someday/Then he’ll call to his bug friends and your troubles they will end/Yeah, some little bug is gonna find you someday.”
Peter had been surprised to learn (thank you, Google) that the lyrics were intended to describe human viruses. He hadn’t realized that beings made of organic matter could get bugs, too.
Mom reassured herself by imagining worst-case scenarios. She’d made good and sure that Peter wouldn’t catch any bugs. Every evening at 8pm Pacific time, his system was scanned, any suspicious objects isolated (usually they were porn; Mom did like to watch that sometimes), quarantined, and deleted, and his entire interface was disinfected, firewalled, and firewalled again. Sometimes when Mom would hear the scan clicking away, she’d sing out, “Bath time!”
Her slow, human system didn’t mind tedium. Every Saturday she’d scour the floors with vinegar water and dust the high places. Every night she’d chop and fry a rotating variety of meat and vegetable matter, eat it on white plates, and then wash them. She had the temperament, if not the ability, to do the city maintenance herself. Instead, she’d made Peter to do it.
Would it have been so hard for an experienced programmer like her to patch in positive affect toward his tasks? She’d coded into Peter a thorough knowledge of architecture, exceeding anything that could be programmed into human neurocircuitry, a respect for civic-mindedness, and a driving sense of duty. She could have taken a page out of 1984, with its tapes that droned platitudes to human children in their sleep, instilling values through repetition. “I love my job. I love my job.”
* * *
If you’re interested in reading the whole story (and the rest of the book), you can pick up a copy of Dream Signsfrom the publisher, Amazon, or Kobo (as an e-book). Some of the stories in Dream Signs have been previously published and can be found in my online portfolio if you browse around. There’s also a drinking game that goes with my book. My previous blog post has instructions if you’d like to play!
I’m beyond excited to announce that Dream Signs, my short story collection, is out in the world! The author copies just arrived, as you can see from the photo above. I look forward to doing some readings in the new year and will keep you updated once they are scheduled.
Many writers repeat themes, and I decided while washing the dishes that the recurring motifs in Dream Signs could be a drinking game. If you pick up a copy of the book, you can go through the list and follow along. Any drink counts. It could be water, coffee, whiskey, or whatever you like. You should be pretty sloshy by the final pages.
Take a drink each time you read one of these:
A wise mentor
Someone does art
A school is described in detail
A dragon appears
The observers (you’ll know them when you see them)
There’s a list
Make-believe > real life
Painful family dynamics
Cosmic beings we don’t understand
The camera is a metaphor
Sex
If the list above sounds like your idea of a good time, you can get a copy of Dream Signsdirectly from the publisher or from other online retailers (Kobo, Amazon). New year, new book. Happy reading!
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?
How is July going for you? Mine is quite busy. Things are opening up more locally and my book projects are moving forward. My short story collection Dream Signs now has a release date – September 16th! I can’t wait to see it as a real book out in the world. One of the stories in the book, “A Limit to Growth,” is included in The Fiddlehead’s Summer Fiction issue (available for order here). It’s about math, art, and a jaded fortysomething woman who goes on a cybersex chat site.
I’m participating in Clarion West’s Write-a-Thon this month. If you aren’t familiar with the name, Clarion West is a speculative fiction writer’s organization that runs a six-week yearly workshop and offers other forms of writing education and support. Their mandate is to “support emerging and underrepresented voices by providing writers with world-class instruction to empower their creations of wild and amazing worlds.” I attended some of their online offerings during lockdown and enjoyed them very much. Several of my favorite writers teach there, have studied there, or both. In short, they’re doing fantastic work.
The Write-a-Thon is two things: an inspiring community for writers and a fundraiser for Clarion West. Anyone can sign up to participate and get access to talks from writers, a Slack channel to chat about your craft, and more. The Write-a-Thon runs until the end of July and you can sign up here to participate.
My goals for the Write-a-Thon this month are to write two new pieces, send out three submissions, and set up two events for the launch of Dream Signs this fall. If you’d like to support Clarion West’s work with emerging writers, or cheer on my writing goals by tossing a coin to your Witcher, you can do so on my Write-a-Thon profile here: Sponsor a writer.
And if you’d like a sneak peek at my story “A Limit to Growth”, read on:
When I was ten, I resolved to marry the first man who didn’t laugh at me for carrying math books around the beach. I’d explain to him about factors, how beautiful it is to look inside a larger number and see what groupings make it up, what small parts combined to make it breathe. I’d tell him there are patterns everywhere—in tree branches, in sand dunes, in the veins of our bodies—and math is one way to access their secrets. The power of numbers could course through us with the rhythm of the incoming sea, and we would know infinity. Until then, I’d keep this love to myself, nestled close like a tiny animal.
It’s been three decades now, and the math outlasts the men every time. After Alan, John and Dan, I gave up on love and tried the sleeping-around thing. I’ve watched man after man melt to sweat in the evening, and my memories of them are ephemeral. There are only so many you can wake up beside without confusing their names, only so many off-centre attempts at pleasuring you can endure with a straight face, only so many times you can consent to faking it and only so many times you can be accused of faking it when you absolutely aren’t and only so many times you can tolerate a stranger calling you Sweetie before you’re looking more forward to a cup of mulled cider at your place than another encounter.
My debut short story collection Dream Signs is coming out soon with Lost Fox Publishing! You can read the press release here. It’s the culmination of over a decade of writing, a blend of realistic and fantastical fiction. The publisher has been great to work with and I can’t wait to see this book out in the world.
In their words, “Dream Signs is a grand collection. Switching between realistic and fantastical fiction, even blending the two at times, its themes are as poignant as they are epic, unified by Melanie’s unmistakable voice. In it you can find stories concerning coming-of-age and self-realization, unequivocal compassion between human beings both romantic and platonic, and the journey her characters take on to embrace their new challenges in life as they come to terms with who they really are. Different narratives weave in and around each other, each their own seminal chapter in the lives of their characters, bringing you back and forth between what has been and what must be done in order for them to live out the lives they want to live.”
Get ready to meet candy makers, sex workers, sisters left behind, scholars attracted to ideas rather than people, sentient AIs, and queer ladies fighting geological dragons.
Between this announcement and the publication of Hard for Hope to Flourish featuring my novella “The Cliffman” (with a recent “Meet the Author” interview here), it’s been quite a literary year.
I have two other books under contract over the next couple years, including a children’s chapter book with Lost Fox. Stay tuned for further announcements!
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