Melanie Bell

Author, Writer, Editor

Tag Archives: creative writing


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Good Idea or Bad Idea? It’s All in the Execution

“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.”


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A Story from 10 Years Ago

The first literary magazine I ever read submissions for was The Fiddlehead. Based out of the University of New Brunswick, it’s the oldest Canadian literary magazine in circulation. It’s a well respected mixture of poetry, fiction and reviews. I enjoyed reading through the slush pile, looking for gems and passing them on to a more senior editor when I found them. The magazine had a practice of sending feedback to everyone who submits, so when I decided that a submission wasn’t going to move forward, I wrote a little note to the author on a slip of paper. (Those were the days when we sent our writing to magazines via snail mail.)    

I’ve had a couple of poems published in The Fiddlehead. I’ve also had some rejection letters from them for both poetry and fiction. This summer, I got another acceptance for a story I’ve been trying to place for 10 years.

In my creative writing Master’s program, I wrote a weird story about a middle-aged banker who goes on a cybersex chatroom. It’s set very obviously in the early 2010s, with allusions to politics of the time. There’s sexy talk about math. There are secret identities. I thought at first that “A Limit to Growth” might grow into a novel, but it reached a natural stopping point at short story length, with an ambiguous ending.   

I knew that I’d written a good story. But for the next decade, I failed to place it. It wasn’t even one of those stories that got encouraging feedback: “This was good work but not for us” or “We encourage you to submit something else.” It got crickets. 

The novel I wrote for my thesis, around the same time, had a similar result. More people liked it, but no one was looking for a bisexual coming-of-age story about a musical prodigy, with alternating timelines and a slower pace. “We only have a limited number of spots in our publishing program…”

Submitting your writing means getting rejected. Jane Yolen, legendary author from my childhood, tweets about her rejections all the time. You just have to keep baiting your hook until somebody bites.

I didn’t give up on “A Limit to Growth,” and I’m excited to see it find a home in The Fiddlehead’s 2021 summer fiction issue. I left my novel in a metaphorical drawer for a while, then resubmitted it to some new publishers this year and am delighted that it, too, has found a home. Chasing Harmony will be published by Read Furiously in 2022. 

So, those are my stories from 10 years ago. It took time, persistence, and changes in the marketplace for them to reach an audience, but I knew that there was something good in both of them. I believed in them, so I kept trying. Next time I write something I like, I’ll remember how long it took to place these pieces and keep at it. If you’ve written something you believe in, I encourage you to do the same. Better late than never!


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Announcing My Short Story Collection, Dream Signs

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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Excerpt from my Forthcoming Novelette “The Cliffman”

I’m delighted to announce the publication of my novelette “The Cliffman” in Hard for Hope to Flourish, a Midnight Bites collection of three chilling novellas from Crone Girls Press. The e-book comes out on March 11 and you can pre-order it now. If you like dark fairy tales, supernatural beings, and complicated sibling relationships, “The Cliffman” has got you covered. The other two stories involve a man hearing voices and a disappearance in a marsh. “Literary tales of quiet horror,” as the blurb says.

Below is an excerpt from “The Cliffman.” Enjoy!

The Cliffman

He stood as children raced across the lap of the sand, as half-grown feet tore up marram grass which tore them in turn, as dusk gave way to moon and brambles on the periphery to raspberries, wax-leaved tufts to cranberries. He stood as tourists in visors shed tears over sand-spilled ice cream, as lovers tussled in cliff-caves or took to their vans, as the ozone layer thinned almost imperceptibly, as crabs tracked. It wasn’t often he could do anything but see.

*  *  *

See: two girl-slivers, wind-haired, seated on driftwood. A mother grown as a full moon, instructing: this thick viscous seaweed is kelp, this edible kind dulse. Tides are caused by the moon, and erosion happens as rocks wear away under sea. These are cliff swallows and this, running in the sand with its funny stilt legs, the rare endangered piping plover.

The mother was a teacher during the school year, and every summer day she taught her own girls. The father wavered between office days and sofa chair nights, never quite there, which made the older girl feel smaller. His driftwood books cluttered the table—covers with complicated spaceships, pearly moon-cities, knights in tall helmets.

*  *  *

“It would be nice if you’d interact with your own children,” the mother said.

“And what type of interaction do you expect? Everything has to be a lesson with you.”

“At least I spend time with them.”

Dishes clattered in the sink. The girls said nothing.

Here on the map was North America where they lived, here Africa, Australia, and this big lump on the bottom Antarctica, too cold for people. Here the first page of a bedtime story—sound it out.

A half page in, their mother fixed things: “Night, not kuh-night. The k is silent.” The younger sister squirmed away from her storybook. The older, unnoticed, shrank into the pillow.

Add up the change in the change jar. Take these toys and divide them between mother and sisters (not father who was never in the games even when home from work, and that was expected, accepted). The older sister loved these number games best, and took to playing store with the younger and counting out change. Numbers were regular, soothing as the tides. She took to counting by twos or fives or humming multiplication tables to carry her to sleep. 

The younger sister collected feathers which she kept in a jar in her room, arranging them until they were almost perfect. She was a talker, so she made friends with most kids she ran into. Sometimes she made enemies, which was interesting, too, because she and her allies would make war against them with sticky beached jellyfish and handfuls of wet sand.

The older sister wondered how it could be so easy for the younger to just walk up and join the rush and noise. The kids bickered like her parents, their games as fleeting as the family’s yearly moves from house to summer cottage to house, trailing clumsy suitcases. When they asked her to make war, she ran into a cliff cave and watched crumbs of sandstone crumble from the top. She was happiest on her own, listening to seashells and looking carefully for patterns in the rock, cradling the notebook in which she kept track of inventory for her Someday Store. The tourists who flocked to the beach would buy everything.

On the day the two sisters were walking hand in hand and a voice boomed at them from out of the cliff, naturally it was the younger who answered.

“You think you know everything about this beach, don’t you?” That was the voice, presumably some man they couldn’t see. Full-throated. Presumptuous. Unremarkable enough.

The younger sister was indignant. “Of course we don’t! But I think we know a lot.”

The voice responded with a rumble that could have been a menace or a laugh. The older sister thought she felt the sand quaver beneath her feet. Being the more practical of the pair, she asked, in spite of her uneasiness: “Who are you anyway, and where are you?”

“Look above you,” the voice said.

The girls’ small heads poked up. There atop the rocks a figure stood. His skin was the red of island sandstone, and it was hard to tell if the earth-colored folds around him were clothing or some draping extension of his body. His face was rough, like the mock faces one sometimes finds worn into rocks, and he stood larger than a human man by half. He was still, dignified in the manner of stone and ocean. The sisters found him half-formed, masklike, hideous. How to speak to a person that was not a person but a walking mass of clay?

If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can order your copy of Hard for Hope to Flourish here.


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So You Want to Write in Lockdown?

How are you all doing? Here in London, we’re well into lockdown #3. Remember lockdown hobbies, and the optimism with which some people took up making homemade sourdough bread and learning new languages? If you’re like me, enthusiasm for indoor activities has waned a bit by now.   

Writing is one of the things keeping me going as I work from home, socialize (as much as it’s possible to do so) from home, and veg out… all in the same general vicinity. As much as it can be a source of vitality and energy, though, it can also be hard to do consistently during this time. And people wanting to try writing for the first time while their lives have moved indoors face the additional challenge of getting started.    

Here are a few things that have energized my writing at one point or another during the quarantimes.

Write socially

When working on my first book, I went to Shut Up and Write sessions where a group of writers gathered, chatted briefly, and then got down to the process of quietly writing. Sessions were timed, and with other people doing the same thing around me, I got a lot of work done. I’ve benefited from finding similar group writing sessions over Zoom where friendly people encouraged each other, shared resources and updates, and provided accountability.

Try something new

Last year (during lockdown 2), I did NaNoWriMo for the first time. I tried writing something in a new genre (romance) and format (novella). During lockdown 1, I read about short nonfiction writing, tried pitching a big publication, and ended up writing something for the Huffington Post. Setting challenges for myself and trying new things kept the writing process fresh and interesting.   

Find a critique partner

Having someone else to exchange writing with keeps your manuscript from languishing forever unseen in your files. I found a fiction critique partner through social media and have been swapping work with her ever since. Having someone intelligent and responsive to exchange feedback with has been helpful and encouraging, and means I’m writing more. 

Take advantage of your personal schedule

If you’re working from home now, like me, you might have gained time back from your daily commute. Try scheduling writing in that now-freed calendar space. Another way of taking advantage of your schedule is knowing your body’s clock. I’ve been reading about chronotypes, or the variations in people’s biological clocks, and recognizing why I’ve never been one of those people who got up and wrote early in the morning. I don’t have to be! We all have different times when we’re at our creative and productive peaks, and maybe learning about yours will help you get more writing done, too.  

Write about what you’re experiencing

During the pandemic, I’ve helped process the stress of a radically changing life and environment by journaling (i.e. inelegantly venting about everything) and writing poems about the virus, Zoom calls, and shifting restrictions. It’s been a wonderful outlet. 

…Or not

Sometimes I just want to escape the 2020s. I’ve found solace in writing fiction set in a pre-COVID world and in other, imagined worlds. Do you wish you were somewhere else? Writing can take you there!

Have you been putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard in lockdown? What keeps you writing?


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My First NaNoWriMo, or How I Wrote a Novella in a Month

I’ve posted before about NaNoWriMo, but until 2020, it was one of those things I’d thought about but never attempted. I was usually busy, and more crucially, I’ve never been fast. I’ve completed novel manuscripts, but writing 50,000 words in a month seemed like a daunting task. I was happy to cheer on other, more ambitious writers from the sidelines. 

This year I spent November in lockdown. It seemed like the perfect time to give the challenge a go. I had a few opening chapters of a novella lurking in my folders, waiting for me to finish it, and I decided that NaNoWriMo would be my motivation to do that. I wasn’t sure if I’d write the full word count, but I saw other writers blogging and posting on social media about the progress they made from participating, whether or not they met that tally mark. Some used it to revise or meet other goals, like I intended to do. The tent seemed expansive and friendly.

This manuscript is the first time I’ve tried to write romance as a central focus. It’s also the first time I’ve attempted a novella, although I’ve thought at points that it might turn into a novel. It started out with two points of view, but feedback from a reader suggested that one was far more interesting than the other, so I rewrote the first part to focus on that character. I scrapped my outline and wrote by the seat of my pants, coming up with some of my ideas on long morning runs. It turned out that letting my mind wander while exercising was a great way to find inspiration.

What worked for me? Not, it turned out, joining online communities or engaging with the many passionate writers posting in great detail on forums and chat rooms. It’s wonderful to see so many passionate people creating, and I’d expected to find it motivating, but instead it gave way to something like Zoom fatigue. I joined a few groups and quickly became overwhelmed. Instead, I focused on the story I was telling. Maybe I’d socialize about it later, when it was done.

Complicating things, I had some serendipitous work projects come up for the month, so my time wasn’t as open as I’d expected. My writing stopped and started around other commitments that I didn’t want to forego. What helped throughout all that was writing regularly, in little bits almost every day. I felt closer to my characters’ lives. It was a challenge to write a new kind of story in a new genre, but word by word, it came together. 

I allowed my usual writing process to take the forefront, editing as I go. That’s usually seen as a “no-no” for writers during speed events like this one, but when I tried to draft with more of a stream of consciousness, I missed letting my editorial mind improve things. I’m an editor by trade, and it turns out that I value letting that skill set shape my work. It makes the next draft smoother.

The last day was a milestone. I’d set a 25,000-word novella mark by that point and wasn’t sure if I’d achieve that word count or finish the draft. Animated by the frenzy of a student with a due date, I wrote into the evening. The story wanted to tell itself. It knew where it was going. Soon, I reached the end.

It helped to have a deadline. 

I’m delighted to have given NaNoWriMo a try and met my personal goal. It was a great experience, and one I hope to repeat. NaNoWriMo writers out there, how did things go for you?


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What to Do When Your Brain Just Won’t Write

According to coach and author Alexis Rockley, the lack of focus and creative blocks that many of us are experiencing during the coronavirus pandemic stem from the uncertainty arising from this situation. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, and our brains are overwhelmed. In this and other stressful situations, it can be hard for those of us who want to write to get any writing done.

Every writer has struggled with this at points – writer’s block, stress, and other manifestations of a mind that isn’t in any shape to create. It’s one thing if writing is our day job, and we have the external motivation of a deadline with a paycheck waiting at the end (and even then, getting the words out can sometimes be a challenge). It’s quite another when the only person counting on us to get something written is ourselves.

When your brain just won’t write, what can you do? Sometimes it’s best to recognize and care for our needs and come back to work another time rather than tiring ourselves out in the here and now. There are lots of things that can help recharge your batteries, get inspiration flowing, and move your writing career forward when your brain is stalling and the words just won’t come. Here are a few of them.

Self-Care

Rest: If you’re overwhelmed or tired, maybe you need more sleep or downtime. Listen to your body and offer yourself the rest you need.

Exercise: Like rest, we need movement in order to function. Again, listening to your body is helpful here. If you’re feeling twitchy in that office chair, maybe you need to get up and go for a jog.

Check your physical comfort: Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold or hot? Is your furniture hurting your back? Sometimes a comfortable environment makes all the difference.

Do your to-do’s: Some writers procrastinate by doing busywork, but the opposite can also happen. If you have pressing items on your to-do list that you’re putting off, they may be hogging brain real estate that could otherwise be devoted to creativity. Look at those worrisome tasks you’re putting off and get them done. 

Idea Generation

Read (or engage with other arts): Reading keeps writers engaged with words and stories, and can be a wellspring of ideas. So can taking in other forms of art, whether that’s looking at paintings or binging Netflix shows. Feel free to re-engage with old favorites too. 

Research: Like your to-do list, this is some writers’ favored procrastination tool, but it’s also productive. Read and learn about topics that interest you or that are related to your writing project, or try something new and out of your comfort zone. You never know what will spark an idea.

World build: Act like a kid and make things up! Draw an imaginary map. Invent a lollipop land. Dream up a new animal. If you already have a created world as part of your writing, play around with adding things onto it.

Learn your craft: Take a writing class, attend an event, or listen to a podcast. Try something that will teach you new elements or angles on writing and expand your horizons. 

The Business of Writing

Pitch or submit: When the words aren’t coming, that can be a good time to submit and query the pieces you’ve already finished. You can try pitching ideas for new pieces as well, or pitching rejected ideas to other publications. 

Edit: Try rereading your drafts with an editorial eye. See what would benefit from being rewritten. Reading your work aloud can be helpful here, as can exchanging critiques with writer friends.

Build your social media or web presence: It helps to have a presence and network online. Reach out, make connections, and put yourself (and your work) out there. Find people who will want to read your work once you get back to writing it.

Build relationships: As with the above, it’s useful to connect with others in the writing world. Try attending events (virtual ones count, of course), joining a writers’ group, or going to a conference. Keep in touch with the people you meet and like. 

If you just can’t write right now, truly, it’s OK. A writer is someone who writes – but you don’t have to write all the time in order to qualify for the title. There are lots of things you can do that will contribute to your writing when the words won’t come. I promise that blank page will still be there, ready for you to get started.


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Creative Coping

My local park in the spring during lockdown

I write this from home, where I now do my full-time job, giving new meaning to the term “in-house”! A spider plant from work sits on my kitchen table. I grabbed it in a panic when the UK government announced that all non-essential workers would henceforth be working from home. I didn’t want it to die. A month ago, my aunt was in the hospital, unconscious and on a ventilator. I’m grateful that she is now coronavirus-free; not everyone has been so fortunate.  

A lot is going on. Many of us are confined to our quarters, dodging our neighbors whenever we leave the house lest someone be carrying an infection. Some countries are starting to reopen spheres of public life, with mixed results. Socioeconomic divisions are more visible than ever. Some people have been laid off, some are balancing childcare and professions in the same living space, and some continue to work in hazardous conditions. People’s access to resources and private space varies widely. Even for the most privileged, though, living through COVID-19 isn’t easy. We are all dealing with increased stress, anxiety, and uncertainty.

While it’s harder for our brains to focus when they are under this kind of pressure, creativity has come through for many of us as a way of coping with a changed and stressful environment. People are telling funny stories about their pets as coworkers, taking up baking and crafts, and creating virtual events and communities that didn’t exist before. 

Why is creativity useful now? For one thing, it’s a way of expressing ourselves, channeling our anxieties and experiences of this strange new world by creating something new. For another, it can be calming, with the process of making art or crafts grounding us when we have limited opportunities to engage with the physical world. Creativity is also born of resourcefulness – limited ingredients in the pantry, for instance, can spark new meal ideas, and museums’ challenge to recreate famous works of art with objects at home have yielded impressive results. 

I’ve found that my attention span has dwindled, and I’m not as focused on longer projects as I have been at other points. Briefer ideas and bursts of expression are more my speed in these isolation days. I’ve been taking photos during daily government-permitted exercise outings and writing a lot of poetry about the virus. I’ve made kimchi for the first time, with this recipe yielding good results. I’ve enjoyed an online poetry writing retreat and read free e-books that authors have shared. Making stuff and enjoying things that others make reminds me that hope persists. We are experiencing collective challenges, but we can still bring new and beautiful things into the world in the midst of them.   

What creative activities are helping you get through the pandemic?


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Following The Artist’s Way Again, Over 10 Years Later

Five pelicans groom themselves in St. James’ Park, London, during one of my Artist Dates.

During the first year of my undergraduate studies, I encountered a book called The Artist’s Way. A classmate who’d completed a visual arts program told me about the volume and how his class had used it at art school. Julia Cameron’s book has sold over 3 million copies and inspired countless artists, but this was my first encounter with it. I was intrigued by my friend’s stories of how the book inspired an outpouring of productivity and gave him the courage to use masses of high-quality paint rather than being stingy. I wanted to check this book out myself.

I found a copy of The Artist’s Way in a used bookstore. One of my classes at the time involved a project in which we all found something we’d always wanted to do and did it. I’d always wanted to paint, and I used this book as inspiration. I started writing Morning Pages, following Cameron’s practice of writing three pages longhand every morning in which you vent, brainstorm, and babble. I went on Artist Dates, inspiring solo outings, though I no longer remember where I went. 

I did Cameron’s exercises, listing activities I’d always wanted to do and “secret selves” who reflected aspects of my personality that I didn’t typically express. To be candid, I only made my way partway through the book, but by the end of the year, I had in fact learned to paint. I hung some of my pieces in my dorm room, and painting entered the repertoire of arts I practiced and believed myself capable of doing. I also tried out other art forms, writing a good song and a not-as-good-but-still-finished musical. The Artist’s Way, even imperfectly followed, was a wellspring of inspiration. Once the year ended, inspired and enlivened, I moved on.

Near the end of 2019, over a decade later, an intriguing call for submissions got me writing a fantasy short story on the commute to and from my editing job. I got started but alternated between chipping away at the story and sitting there with a muddled, unproductive brain. I wanted to keep up my momentum, to keep writing, so I found myself picking up a tool I hadn’t used in years: the Morning Pages. 

On mornings when my brain wasn’t up to the task, I used my time on the London tube to ramble in my notebook about what was happening in my life. From there, spurred on by seeing a friend posting about The Artist’s Way on social media, I began to follow the book in earnest. My story coaxed me into taking a second walk down the Artist’s Way. 

A lot has changed since my first half-finished use of Cameron’s tools. I’ve moved from the creatively nurturing nest that my university provided for me to the daily routine of a full-time job, moving in a circuitous path that’s included freelancing, multiple careers, and entrepreneurship. I’ve lived in three different countries. I’ve published a successful book and dozens of short pieces. Having come from a place of early success, I’ve also become very familiar with failure. I’ve been prolific at times, blocked at times, and overly reticent with submissions. The drive of creative inspiration has at many points given way to the need to get things done. 

This need has given me a new perspective on The Artist’s Way. I’m discovering that it is, in fact, an ingenious organizational tool. The Morning Pages remind me of forgotten items to check off my to-do list and help me organize my creative projects. Sometimes bits of writing emerge from the pages, but more often than not they resemble vacuuming – getting the mind clean and ready for work. The Artist Dates have taken me on walks around the neighborhood where I work, enjoying the splendors of Buckingham Palace and St. James’ Park, becoming familiar with the birds and flowers there. For some, Artist Dates bring a welcome sense of adventure. For me, they’ve brought a deeper connection and grounding in my surroundings.  

The first time I tried The Artist’s Way, I was much closer to being that “artist child” that Cameron wants her readers to reconnect with inside themselves. I was less familiar with the challenges of the marketplace and had largely received encouragement in my writing and creative pursuits. I’d experienced the sting of some failures, but not on the scale that adulthood would bring. With this context, the encouragement offered by The Artist’s Way has been much more powerful the second time around. 

Engaging with the book’s exercises has not been easy. They’ve opened old wounds and questions about my future. However, the changes have been profound. I’d expected to discover an exotic array of new interests or begin engaging with new art forms the way I did last time. Instead, my inner voice piped up loud and clear that I want to write and need to fight for that desire. 

I was reminded of being eight years old and imagining that I would someday write all the things I read – mystery novels, advertisements, nature magazines, newspapers, everything! I remembered submissions that got lost and wondered why I hadn’t followed up. I became determined to follow that voice urging me to write all kinds of things, write what’s fun, and not put limits on myself. It’s okay that I want to be focused right now, that I don’t want to crochet or make a podcast. It’s okay that I’m scared to fail over and over. I’m determined to listen to my inner voice and honor that eight-year-old’s dreams. 

So, what’s changed in my life since beginning my second journey with The Artist’s Way? I’ve written a short story and several poems, begun a novella in a new genre, finished revising a manuscript and submitting it to my first round of agents, and embarked upon a “100 submissions a year” challenge. (I’m going for submissions rather than rejections because it’s a concrete goal within my control. One of these has already turned into an acceptance, and I’m certainly not sulking about it!) 

I’ve taken the initiative to create a blog for authors at my job. I’ve come up with several ideas for potential writing projects. I’ve started learning about linguistics and spent a morning picking up a few phrases in Swahili. I’ve gotten back in touch with some old friends, reached out to my great-aunt about family recipes, and grown very familiar with the pelicans of St. James’ Park. Fear, realism, and cynicism tango with hope and the excitement of infinite possibilities. Here I stand, in the middle of the Artist’s Way, and this time I’m determined to make it to the end.

Have you tried The Artist’s Way? What was your experience like?


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SFF Book Recommendations and Aristotle’s Building Blocks of Writing

Writing is a holistic activity, but when it comes to honing our craft, it’s useful to break it down into parts. The June 30 episode of Writing Excuses, a podcast about the craft of writing that focuses primarily on fantasy and science fiction (SFF), introduced Aristotle’s elements of tragedy. These six aspects of writing apply to modern storytelling as easily as they did to ancient Greek plays. While Aristotle placed these elements in a specific order of importance, the authors on Writing Excuses argue that their relative importance changes based on what an author is trying to achieve. In my opinion, there’s no better way to make use of this theory than by looking at how it applies to books that do each element well. Below, I share how each element is used in an SFF book I recently read and loved. Take these examples as a starting point rather than a be-all and end-all. And, if you’re writing a work in progress, think about how Aristotle’s elements apply to it and which ones you want to emphasize. 

Aristotle ranked plot as the most important element of tragedy, and a tightly plotted yarn certainly keeps us reading. In Children of Blood and Bone, the divîner caste in the West African-inspired land of Orïsha have been brutally oppressed since the king eliminated their magic. Young Zélie finds a scroll that temporarily reignites these powers and gets caught up in a plan to bring magic back for good. This novel is tightly plotted and action packed. Each chapter ratchets up the tension, with gladiator battles, kidnapping, and an epic hero’s journey.

Three women take turns narrating this loose retelling of Rumpelstiltskin, and protagonist Miryem has the standout character arc. The daughter of a Jewish moneylender who is too softhearted (and frightened of persecution) to ask for his money back, Miryem resolves to turn around her struggling family’s fortunes and takes over her father’s job. She teaches herself to be relentless and drive a hard bargain. Her skills attract the attention of the mystical Staryk king, who wants to make use of her ability to “turn silver to gold.” Miryem’s evolution from daughter of a struggling family to skilled and hardened moneylender to strong-willed leader is a delight to witness.     

The Tensorate universe is founded on ideas. It has a carefully crafted magic system that involves entering the “slack” and “tensing” different elements to achieve effects. It’s a world where children choose their own gender in their own time and are considered genderless until then. Yang’s two novellas follow the twin children of this world’s dictatorial leader as they choose divergent paths, Akeha (Black Tides) becoming male and leading a rebel faction, Mokoya (Red Threads) becoming female and hunting monsters in the wake of personal tragedy. This intricacies of the magic and gender systems are fascinating and thoroughly explored. What happens when someone falls through the gaps, or thinks they know the rules but might be missing something? Yang has thought of that, too.        

One of the joys of an odd-couple cop story is the interplay between the pair. This novella’s two space sleuths are Long Chau, a consulting detective with a drug addiction and a hidden past, and The Shadow’s Child, a sentient spaceship traumatized from past military service who now makes a living (barely) by brewing and selling tea blends that keep customers’ minds clear in deep space. Long Chau approaches The Shadow’s Child for two things: tea and transport into the deep spaces that still trigger her trauma in order to find a corpse to study. The mysterious circumstances of said corpse’s death lead the pair to investigate. De Bodard’s dialogue is understated, with formal tones conveying the characters’ wariness around each other. Gaps in conversation show where they leave things unsaid and where Long Chau misses social nuances. At times, the characters are edgy and snarky:

 “I’m writing a treatise on decomposition. How the human body changes in deep space is a shamefully undervalued area of study.”

“I can see why you’d be a success at local poetry clubs,” The Shadow’s Child said, wryly.

There’s a lot to appreciate in this story, and the dialogue is one element that works to show evolution in the characters’ fragile trust.

Astrid has spent her whole life on the Matilda, a spaceship that has carried humanity’s survivors for generations towards a promised land. It’s a brutal milieu, divided by nation-like decks, where the lower deckers (intersex people of color) are subjugated and forced to work on the revolving plantation deck. Astrid discovers that the journals of her late mother, an engineer, hold a secret code and that the Matilda’s bouts of power loss and illness may be more significant than anyone realized. Astrid is a nuanced and brilliant protagonist on the autism spectrum whose formal diction sets her apart from fellow lower-deckers, and the inhabitants of each deck in turn are distinguished by their language. Solomon imbues each shipboard culture with its own turns of phrase, use of pronouns, expressions, and cadences. The music that gives shape to this novel’s worldbuilding is exquisite.

Spectacle means putting on a good show. Kuhn’s fantastically fun urban fantasy, the first in a trilogy (with a follow-up novella and more to come soon), is full of flash and dazzle. Evie is the put-upon personal assistant to superheroine Aveda, her longtime best friend. But when Aveda is injured in a demon fight, Evie is called on to impersonate her, and the fire power she’s worked so hard to hide may be the very thing that saves the day. In SFF, spectacle can happen through worldbuilding and description as well as through action scenes. The heroes in Heroine Complex fight fanged cupcakes, and one of the pivotal battles takes place during a karaoke contest. Bring on the popcorn!