“She has a penis. I seen her naked. Why do you think she always wears skirts?”
“That’s stupid. Ain’t nobody got a penis and boobs. That don’t make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
“Shut up, stupid.”
Farmhands Larry and Darryl ogled Meredith Winters from the barn’s hay loft. She walked past every day, twice, on her way to town and back to her little house in the dell. Always they stopped to stare as she passed. Usually they spouted nonsensical rumors to entertain themselves. Every day, she waved at them just before going round the bend past the copse of trees at the edge of their boss Traynor’s land. This unnerved them each time; once Larry jumped away from the window so abruptly, he shoved Darryl, who stumbled several feet before falling from the loft. He walked now with a limp, and his left hand fell asleep randomly. Larry covered for his cousin when the hand affected his work. Family was family.
Miss Meredith giggled as she waved. Not only was her hearing superior to humans, they would never guess her secret in a gazillion years, when she would still be there, and all these silly, rumor-mongering humans gone.
The 3 H’s Trilogy: A mix of comedic bizzaro romance horror, cosmic horror, and occult dark fantasy, The 3 H’s Trilogy begins when a gardener discovers a disembodied head in her mother’s garden. What starts as an absurd love story turns into a gruesome inter-dimensional nightmare. Consists of The Head, The House, and The Hell.
Elizabeth looked back at the house, the phone firmly in her mind. She needed to call 911. This was the authorities’ problem. Whoever placed this head there, whatever force possessed it with the power to speak, after death…
Elizabeth looked back at the house, the phone firmly in her mind. She needed to call 911. This was the authorities’ problem. Whoever placed this head there, whatever force possessed it with the power to speak, after death…
Elizabeth walked up to the head and picked it up in her pink gloves. She stared at it for a moment, before taking it into the house with her.
Carolina Daemonic: Confederate Shadows: The first novel of Brian Barr’s Carolina Daemonic series released in 2015, Confederate Shadows is an occult urban horror fantasy with steampunk elements set in an alternative dystopian world where the Confederacy rules America. Uncompromising and raw, Confederate Shadows takes us into a world of grotesque monsters, dark magic, and chaos.
The redhead looked
up at the skies, coaxing Wei to look upwards as well. Far off dark
bodies could be seen, flapping and soaring like wild birds, closer
and closer. Behind them, far off into the distance, Wei could see
what looked like a weird blue portal, opened with lightning bolts
dancing within its womb.
“My sisters
come,” the beautiful porcelain skinned woman continued. “Migrating
Madonnas. You awoke us.”
Wei slowly stood
up, shaking uncontrollably. She didn’t know what to say.
The woman gazed
back and stared with a smile. “You will join us in our realm. This
place reeks of mundane and disgusting men. It is no place for those
like us.
“Wh…who are you
then?” Wei asked, truly curious, but afraid to really know the
answer.
“I am Celeste,
one of the Lilin.”
Carolina Daemonic: Confederate Shadows Excerpt
Descending from the
heavens in the black pool of night, something came. Something more
foreign, more of an “other,” an outsider, than any societal
scapegoat could have dreamed of being in the eyes of a fearful
oppressor. Something further removed from the normality of society,
from the expected nature of life and existence in general. The
creature was humanoid in shape, recognizable mostly in the fact that
it bore a head and neck with extended fins, torso and limbs. The
composition of this thing seemed flesh-like, if flesh were turned
inside out, pinkish and vein-ridden, muscle spasming and pus fizzling
with what looked like the result of viral diseases. Its eyes were
round and popping out, the pupils dilated. Bizarre and uncanny, it
seemed to glide with ease from the heights of the sky. It fell onto
the back of the unsuspecting sailor, wrapping its legs around the
gasping man’s torso. A strange black collar flashed with rainbow
lights around the demonic thing’s neck. Its hands were outstretched
with sharp, shiny nails, its jaws open as a long tongue licked the
air with insatiable delight.
The woman watched
the thing fall for probably three seconds, astonished by the sight,
left thoughtless. Had the thing taken an extra second to descend, or
even an extra millisecond, the strange drunk’s foot would have
found its way to her gut. That cruel show would’ve kicked her
pregnant stomach, risked the life or welfare of the living organism,
or organisms, incubating inside her. For its timing, the
unintelligible thing was a savior in some way, a knight in flesh
tissue and demonic extensions of tongue and nail. A holy savage
fiend, a living oxymoron of the highest degree. She couldn’t
pinpoint what to call this angelic demon, feeling both awe and dread
in one shattering moment.
She still screamed. Still screamed as the ravaging thing grabbed her assailant.
Empress: Co-created and co-written by Chuck Amadori and Brian Barr, Empress is a comic book series that centers around Zia, a famous Hollywood actress who goes missing in the early 20th century. She returns to America as the embodiment of the chthonic goddess Hekate and ushers in a new age for the same world that oppressed her spirit and legacy.
After Sylvia helps
deliver her first baby as an apprentice midwife, Meda, the mother,
leaves believing the baby died at the request of the father, her
wealthy, white employer. Meda tends to her grief by volunteering at
an orphanage, where she takes on the care of two babies and helps
raise them. Sylvia assuages her guilt by throwing herself into
nursing, obtaining a post at Lazaretto, the first quarantine hospital
in the U.S. Though from different socio-economic levels, Sylvia and
Meda’s lives brush upon each other slightly throughout the years,
though both women are unaware. A wedding party composed of black
employees at the Lazaretto is quarantined due to a yellow fever
scare. Sylvia must take charge of the ensuing chaos of racial
terrorism upon the group on the boat over to the island and deal with
white policemen whose purpose is unknown, but who are also
quarantined with the wedding party. Meda’s boys end up in the
middle and learn the truth of their mother.
McKinney-Whetstone
deftly portrays the precarious position of characters in a society
that considers them invisible at best, and how they must carefully
balance dignity with always a thought toward self-preservation.
Though the characters hold their integrity through actions, the
dialogue alternates between formal, stiff language without
contractions and colloquial dialect, seemingly randomly, and can be
distracting from the story. Systemic racism is nearly its own
character in the tale, as even refined, strong-willed Sylvia deems it
important to pamper the stranded detectives based on their color.
Readers of historical fiction, lovers of secrets, and fans of flawed,
complex characters will appreciate this novel.
Born and raised in Hawaii, Arizona, and Maryland, Brian Barr resides in South Carolina and is the author of the Carolina Daemonic series, the 3 H’s Trilogy, the Nihon Cyberpunk collection (read my reviews of #2, #3, and #4), and the Brutal Bazaar collection. His stories meld fantasy, horror, and science fiction, with themes that range from the occult to the exploration of the human condition, art, music, societal issues and political concerns. As a small press and independent author, he is heavily influenced by DIY and punk culture when it comes to formatting and releasing his work. Brian has written novels, short stories, and comics. He co-created and co-writes the comic book Empress with Chuck Amadori, which features art by Sullivan Suad and Zilson Costa, colored by Geraldo Filho. Sullivan Suad and Zilson Costa have also collaborated with Brian to provide many of the art for his covers.
Carolina Daemonic: Confederate Shadows: The first novel of Brian Barr’s Carolina Daemonic series released in 2015, Confederate Shadows is an occult urban horror fantasy with steampunk elements set in an alternative dystopian world where the Confederacy rules America. Uncompromising and raw, Confederate Shadows takes us into a world of grotesque monsters, dark magic, and chaos.
Carolina Daemonomaniac I: The First Carolina Daemonic Short Stories Collection: This is the first collection of Carolina Daemonic short stories. Along with the steampunk war comic The Tamed Tiger, Carolina Daemonomaniac includes various tales of Voodoo/Vudon spirituality, necromancy, weird science and the undead.
The 3 H’s Trilogy: A mix of comedic bizzaro romance horror, cosmic horror, and occult dark fantasy, The 3 H’s Trilogy begins when a gardener discovers a disembodied head in her mother’s garden. What starts as an absurd love story turns into a gruesome inter-dimensional nightmare. Consists of The Head, The House, and The Hell.
Brutal Bazaar: A horror collection of short stories, Brutal Bazaar includes The 3 H’s Trilogy, The Bloody Writer’s Trilogy, Badlam Betty, and various other bloodcurdling tales penned by Brian Barr. From slashers to occult horror, these tales include gruesome scenes mixed with dark humor and existential dread.
Nihon Cyberpunk: Nihon Cyberpunk is a collection of science fiction stories set in Japan. Inspired by Black Mirror, The Twilight Zone,Akira, Ghost in the Shell, and various other sources, Nihon Cyberpunk explores the human condition and probes philosophical questions in a dark and dystopian Japan ruled by technology. Includes The Kage Majitsu Trilogy and An American Otaku in Neo-Nihon’s Underbelly as bonus stories.
Empress: Co-created and co-written by Chuck Amadori and Brian Barr, Empress is a comic book series that centers around Zia, a famous Hollywood actress who goes missing in the early 20th century. She returns to America as the embodiment of the chthonic goddess Hekate and ushers in a new age for the same world that oppressed her spirit and legacy.
Matthew Cave is
assigned to report on a mummy suspected to be the first Viking found
in Greenland. After the mummy disappears, and the police officer
guarding it killed in a most horrific manner, Matthew investigates a
story decades old based on the similar style of murder of four local
men. The tale grows exponentially as he learns about the murders’
connections to child molestation, kidnapping, politics, and a
mysterious, tattooed woman just released from prison. Secrets are
revealed, crimes are solved, and living / dead are confirmed.
Nordbo writes a
graphic, bones-laid-bare crime novel with the setting of Nuuk,
Greenland as prominent as a main character. The Danish / Greenlandic
tension is pushed and pulled throughout the story, with national
politics and corruption affecting local affairs. Twists and turns
abound as new evidence surfaces, but the main source of a policeman’s
journal written during the earlier crimes takes the reader back in
time for a more intimate feel. A major information dump at the end
does its best to feel natural, coming from the appropriate
characters. In any case, the tale is multi-layered, with storylines
that converge for a revelatory denouement. I was fortunate to receive
a digital copy from Text Publishing Company through NetGalley.
Ruth has a dynamic persona online; she’s friendly, smart, and funny, supporting other artists with her wit and wisdom. She also happens to be multi-talented, sharing her writing and artwork on Facebook. Links to connect with her to commission artwork / illustrations are at the end of the interview.
Tell me about your writing process: schedule, environment, inspiration, tools, magic spell, etc.
Sorry, I’m still grinning from ear to ear at the description you’ve given. She sounds pretty amazing, actually. Quite like to meet her.
I started properly writing about two years ago whilst going through a very difficult time in my personal life. I woke up at 4am in the usual panicked state, picked up my phone and began to write a scene which had been hanging around in my head for a while. It started an escape from reality; I discovered that I could immerse myself in the safety of words and the worlds they create. It not only got me through that challenging situation; it secured my way out. The piece I wrote was fan-fiction (Discworld, if you’re wondering), imperfect but a decent story nonetheless. It hooked the interest of a fellow fan who ended up marrying me. Words are important!
After that I tried a sequel, but a story idea I had from twenty years before was rather insistent I get back to it and so, on my daily commute, I would feverishly tap into my phone. It made what was essentially dead time bearable and productive. I would aim for a minimum 200 words a day, but usually made 400+, which wasn’t bad for an hour’s work.
I’m now working from home as an artist, primarily, and this has meant no commute time. I’m still coming to terms with that, and so writing has been a little bit neglected. It’s not that I get writer’s block, but that I get involved in other projects and need to reign myself in every so often! Flash fiction often helps get me back on track and there’s nothing so good as reading to promote the need to write.
I am inspired by anything and everything, but as some wise person once said, write what you know. So, as I’ve had a strong interest in the paranormal since I was very young (I used to think I was a werewolf, but I’m alright nowOOooOOOooo!) and an undying love of comedy, I had to push the two together. My current project is a paranormal comic fantasy mystery novel. Four genres are better than one, right? And so the dark comedy of Pemberton and Shearsmith, combined with all the true crimes and hauntings I’ve read about over the years, have definitely played a part. I also listen to music for inspiration and there are several references to tracks by 80s ska band, ‘The Specials’ and the ‘Fun Boy Three’, although those references are for my enjoyment; the reader may not necessarily spot them.
Describe your art process: similarities / differences to writing process and just how much time, energy, effort, and personal essence goes into each piece.
I describe both writing and painting as ‘flow’ activities in that, when I’m in the process I lose myself and the subconscious takes over for me. I become unaware of my surroundings and totally focused on pinning down what I see either in words or lines. When I write I visualise very strongly and so I see the characters interacting—I see the scene play out in my mind’s eye, hear their voices. It’s like a big game of pretend where I’m in charge of everything, but there is a feeling of really only being a scribe for these imaginary people. When I paint, and it’s predominantly portraiture that I do, I usually have a reference to work from so I’m trying to capture what’s in front of me, but more than that, the spirit of the person I’m replicating. I write about the dead and oddly my subjects are often no longer with us, but whether I’m literally channeling anything I couldn’t say. But again, I think my subconscious picks up on the features or the expression of the subject and seems to know what bits I should downplay or accentuate to put that likeness across. For the time I’m working on it, I pour my whole self into it.
When you let your conscious mind take the backseat it’s a very calming and cathartic experience. It does wonders for mental health and staving off depression and anxiety and you don’t need a prescription from a professional!
Explain your support system online and IRL; who are your biggest cheerleaders?
My husband, Graham, is my biggest cheerleader, although the visual that just inspired will haunt me. He’s not really the build for a leotard and pompoms. If it wasn’t for his encouraging words when I first started writing, I certainly wouldn’t be where I am now. He is in the process of designing, then building, my workshop where I’ll be doing all things creative. At the moment my kitchen table is my studio!
Online I’m predominantly on Facebook as a platform and I love it because, aside from the inevitable bots and trolls, you’re meeting and interacting with real people. Through groups and pages I can explore and share my special interests, as well as test out gags. I’d say half of the jokes in my novel are inspired from my need to outdo others in the witty riposte stakes. All of my commissions have come from Facebook, which again, has been due to my taking part in Inktober and continuing this with a Daily Drawing. Regular content is a must. These aren’t anonymous people—these are actual people and genuine connections which I find infinitely more fulfilling than some of my real life friendships (not you, Louise—my bestie if she’s reading!)
How does your life influence your work (writing / art), and vice versa?
I wrote a story that had two characters fall in love, in the midst of a dramatic backdrop. I was in the midst of a dramatic backdrop in my real life; then a man not unlike the lead stepped in and we fell in love. Thankfully, I didn’t kill either of those characters off because I do think that what we write, whilst inspired by our experiences, can also influence our experiences. I’m weird like that. A specific example is that the climax of my novel is set in a real place, The Secret Nuclear Bunker, which I visited with my husband before we married. It is undoubtedly the most unpleasant place I have ever visited and at some point I’ll need to visit it again for writing purposes. As we were leaving there was a sign on one of the doors that said ‘No Paranormals’ and in my head I heard Geoff (werewolf archivist and anal retentive) say, ‘Well, that’s just prejudiced!’. On the drive home the cogs whirred and by nightfall I had the entire end of the book worked out. Poor Graham then had to listen to this before either of us were going to get any sleep.
As for art, I like painting people because they fascinate me. That sounds as if I am not a person, but faces and expressions and trying to capture that I simply love.
What do you lost most about your creativity?
Love? I am never able to just do nothing. I’ve always got something I’m thinking on, working out, planning to do next. Often before the last project is done…What if this? What if that? The majority of my heroes were creatives and so I’ve spent a lot of time learning about their processes and what drove them to do what they do. Buster Keaton is an unlikely inspiration for my writing, although he was quite a writer himself. I have a character specifically based on him and I’ve really enjoyed the challenge of writing for a character that can’t, the majority of the time, speak. I like those hooks, I wouldn’t call them gimmicks, but I enjoy writing most when I’m restricted. So for instance, having a character literally written into a situation so difficult you wonder how you’ll get them out of it. That’s when we’re at our most creative, when we have limits to work within, so I’ll often self-impose these. It’s a good writing exercise too, like, write a 100 word piece on being a parent without using the words child, kid, responsibility, mother or father; go! Go on, you should try that.
Author Extra: novel-in-progress teaser
Maddie Webb’s life was at a dead end but, for some, being dead is just the beginning. When she inherits the family business she doesn’t bargain on inheriting her late Uncle Stan too. Teaming up with his ghost, a demonic cat, a painfully cool vampire and an anally retentive werewolf, she unwittingly finds a purpose.
WEBB PARANORMAL INVESTIGATIONS: serving the supernatural community. The Devil’s in the details.
In 1965, time travel ignites Barbara’s manic depression, and the other pioneers—ambitious Margaret, compassionate Lillian, and social butterfly Grace—leave her behind to form The Conclave, an autonomous organization commercializing time travel. Multiple storylines converge to determine the identity of the woman found dead of four bullet wounds in a locked room. The investigation for this unique whodunit plays out in various timelines with characters’ ages often not corresponding chronologically. There’s manipulation, subterfuge, and espionage afoot throughout the nation and throughout time. The time travel details are concrete, with the fuel posing a danger if not handled appropriately. There’s even a time travel glossary included at the end, which makes one try that much harder to buy into the concept. Macarenhas gives the reader glimpses into the thoughts of characters, providing more depth to a story that might easily go astray with so much time-hopping chapters. Readers who like speculative fiction with compelling characters and complex relationships will appreciate this story that readily lends oneself to suspend belief, a realistic time travel story, if you will. It’s definitely worth the time! Ha! I was fortunate to receive a copy from the publisher through Net Galley.
He looked out the window once more. She’s not out there. She’s gone. What had the note said, something about making him wait 710 hours? Looking at it in writing, it did seem an awful long time to wait for someone, but he hadn’t done it to her all at once. Not as she was planning to do. How many days is 710 hours? Divide by 24 . . . . . he was never very good at math, and she had left a PS that if he wanted a calculator, he’d have to go out and buy one. Dammit.
It took all the discipline she could find within her to stay away from him. He was a drug to her. She’d never tried drugs, other than alcohol, and now not even that. She didn’t smoke. She didn’t even eat chocolate like she used to. But a man that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give her what she needed — this is what kept her hanging in there, day after day, in misery.
I want to do something, but there’s nothing I want to do. If I leave, she’ll return. If I stay, she won’t. As though my behavior has any direct connection to hers. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll just act normal; tell everyone she’s at her mothers’. What’s normal for me? When was the last time I was home on a Saturday? Oh.
She started calling her friends Saturday morning. One by one, she sent them over to the house to ask about her. She wanted to hear the lies he could create upon demand. Her justification was that it would help to get him out of her head, though she knew he was so deeply entrenched that he overshadowed herself.
Saturday started early with a phone call from her most emotional friend, wanting to know if she was ready. What do you mean she’s not there? We have to leave in an hour. She told me to call her early. She changed her mind? But she doesn’t even like her mother! I’ll call her there. Bye.
This friend went to breakfast with her, the first lie to give.
Two hours later, her shyest friend rang the doorbell and waited quietly. He explained to her that she’d gone to her mother’s. She hesitantly said that she would check there, but she wasn’t so sure.
This friend went to lunch with her, the recycled lie to give.
By noon, and with her most neurotic friend standing on the doorstep, he knew he had to cover this one with a story that couldn’t be checked so easily. So he explained very carefully that she had gone away for the weekend to a work-related seminar that he had forgotten about, his being so busy and all.
She saw a matinee with this friend, who had a much better story to share.
Mid-afternoon, the gay friend called for her, refused to believe that she had stood him up, and showed up anyway, said he’d wait for her; he had faith. This man kept talking and moving closer to him, until he suggested he try her mother’s, whose home was close enough to the seminar she might have gone for a late lunch. Okay.
She treated this friend to dinner, and received the extended version of the story.
Just before dinnertime, her brother came to take her to dinner as planned. The only one with genuine plans, he questioned him without mercy, not knowing how cruel he was being.
Remembering dinner plans, she phoned her brother to tell him she was okay. He’d learned not to ask her questions, because she’d learned that from him.
He went to bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. He hadn’t realized how social she was, how busy her life. Perhaps he hadn’t spent enough time with her. He didn’t know any of her friends, and now he’s sure they all think him a bastard. Doesn’t even know where his live-in girlfriend is. He prayed none would come Sunday.
Two years she’d lived with him, he’d built up those 710 hours away from her when she needed him to be with her. Pre-empted by work, sports, beer with the buddies. She loved her friends, but she longed for the intimacy that came with spending time with him, learning to know him, understanding him. Now she just felt mean.
Sunday morning sunrise set on curtained windows, hiding a man with dark circles under his eyes and dishes in the sink. The phone rang. He sat there. The neurotic friend screamed into the answering machine that he was a liar, as she asked co-workers who knew of no seminar. Tell me where she is! He knew not.
Sunday morning was the hardest, without the Sunday comics spread across his nude chest, laughing together. When was the last time he had been there for it? She wondered if he would come to her work Monday. She hoped not. She hoped so. She hoped not.
Late Sunday morning, his friend who’d married her emotional friend began talking to the machine, but finished making lunch and racquetball plans in person. He played badly and ate poorly with a man who had no clue what was going on. His confused friend dropped him off just in time to see her shy friend retreating from the dark house. He went in the back door.
Sunday afternoon, she went to her mother’s to tell her what a wonderful life she had. No, there’s no need to call. I’ll visit again next weekend. Yes, he’s fine, busy as usual. Bye.
Her emotional friend used her key to enter the uninviting house. She found him sitting on the bed, gin bottle in had, country music blaring. She turned off the music. Without looking at her, he said with such pain she knew they’d gone too far, “she’s gone. I don’t know where she is. I’m sorry.” She hugged him.
This friend, who had witnessed the pain on both sides, gave her the plain facts. She called in sick Monday morning, then drove to his work to find he’d done the same. She discovered his pathetic self, curled up, not on the bed, but beside it, newly emptied gin bottle clutched.
He awoke to what he thought was a dream. He was ashamed to be drunk, and said so. He then apologized. She apologized. They lived happily ever after.
No, not really. But he did learn a lesson. Women can sure be mean.
When I asked the Tall Poppies for speculative authors, I was given Janie Chang’s name. I fell in love with her two novels; read my reviews on Dragon Springs Road and Three Souls, and eagerly anticipate her upcoming book.
Tell me about your writing process: schedule, environment, strategies, inspirations material and intangible, magic spells, and treats.
With only three books under my writing belt, I’m not sure that there is a defined process yet. Each has been a different journey. I’ve sold one novel on the basis of a synopsis, and then delivered a totally different book. I’ve also written a synopsis and stuck to it pretty closely.
I see stories everywhere, but when an idea keeps coming back, it’s the one I take seriously. It always begins with a “now wouldn’t it be interesting if…” or “but what if…” series of thoughts, and then I dive into research to determine whether I can make it work. For my first two books, the opening scene just came to me and that provided impetus. The third … well, I’m still revising the first chapter.
Research itself provides so many ideas, insights, and anecdotes that you pull into your work. I probably spend six months off and on for research.
When the writing begins, I treat it as a job. Its butt glue time. Or as Shilpi Gowda says more elegantly, ABC: Apply Bum to Chair. I write 6 days a week. My husband goes into “support the author” mode and makes dinner. Housekeeping standards nosedive. The cat thinks she’s finally trained me to sit still for hours so that she has a lap to sleep on. Because basically, you need to get words on a page before you know whether your ideas are any good. You can imagine all you want in your head, but without executing those thoughts, you really can’t tell. You have nothing to work with. You can always edit crap, but you can’t edit a blank page.
Describe your publishing process from final draft to final product, including publishing team, timeline, and expectations of you as the author.
Well, this is something I’m trying to change. I’ve been very much a loner during the writing process; mostly because in the early stages my manuscripts are so embarrassingly dog poop that I don’t want to inflict them on author friends, even the ones who’ve offered to be beta readers. Thoughtful reading and critique is time-consuming.
I’ve hired professional editors though, because you do need someone else to offer critique. You’re always too close to your own work. The first draft may not be 100,000 words yet ,but it needs to be the entire story from start to finish, so that the editor can see what you want to achieve with your story, characters, and themes.
Then I revise based on the editorial notes and a discussion with the editor to make sure I understand what she means. This is where the most extensive re-writing comes in. Many drafts. After that, I send the manuscript to my agent who gives it a yea or nay, whether it’s good enough to send on to my publishers. Then it’s working with the editorial teams at HarperCollins (my publishers)–substantive editing, line editing, copy editing (where historical facts are double-checked, among other things), and then the final proof reading.
But lately some author friends have managed to convince me that they really are OK with reading dog poop and I’m starting to think it would be better for my mental health to have writing friends to talk things over with rather than stew on my own while eating too much chocolate.
Dragon Springs Road in Polish
Talk about your support system online and IRL, especially how you (exciting!) came to be a Tall Poppy.
You definitely need to socialize with other published authors. They understand the business challenges, they nod sympathetically when you wail “But writing in third person is so hard compared to first person!”. I have a poet friend who is the loveliest, most non-judgmental person ever and we walk around the seawall talking about everything: adolescence, sexual abuse, the state of Canadian literature. I have a group of women novelist friends and we take turns hosting potluck dinners every 3-4 months. I love cooking, so whenever possible, I invite authors and friends from the publishing industry over. Sometimes my guests don’t know each other, so it’s a good way to help people network.
Social media is good for staying current, but email is the medium I use to exchange deep, dark thoughts with my really good author friends. And OK, it’s not all serious stuff. One of them has a new book coming out in 2019 and it’s going to be a killer. We’ve been sending each other ideas for which actors to cast in which roles for when someone buys the film rights.
As for Tall Poppies–I’m not sure of the process except that it’s by nomination. So I think my nomination might’ve been due to Weina Dai Randel. Then the others check you out. I first met her online when her duology about Empress Wu came out, when we were both part of an online group for writers of novels about Asia. Then she invited me to join her panel in Portland, at the annual Historical Novel Society conference, and that’s when we met IRL. I met about 20 Poppies in Chicago at PoppyCon and they’re all so smart and fun and NICE. It was like an instant sisterhood. You feel you can talk about any problem and everyone will care and offer good advice. The accumulated wisdom in that group is awesome.
Mischa
The stories you share of your ancestors and China on your website are fascinating. It’s clear that this drives your work; how does your writing influence your life?
When you know how much work it takes to write 100,000 words, you really need to focus on the story that pushes its way to the front of your brain, the one that’s important enough to sustain your interest through the long months of writing to come. And so far, it’s the China of my parents’ childhood and the history of that era that’s pushing the hardest.
Writing has changed my life totally. You recalibrate your schedule and your relationships. Fortunately, I have friends who understand that writing books is not a hobby; it’s serious business. So I can’t travel with them or do as much with them as before. You need time for writing and mental space to let the story grow.
What do you love most about your creativity?
I live for those moments in the creative process when your characters take over and take your story in a different direction than what you had planned. This is why we write and write, to get enough of the plot and the characters and their challenges onto the page so that your subconscious has enough to work with. Then you get the reward, of those flashes of insight when you realize “Well of course this is how that character would handle the situation”–and then the next few pages almost write themselves and another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. It feels like magic.
In 1965, time travel ignites Barbara’s manic depression, and the other pioneers—ambitious Margaret, compassionate Lillian, and social butterfly Grace—leave her behind to form The Conclave, an autonomous organization commercializing time travel. Multiple storylines converge to determine the identity of the woman found dead of four bullet wounds in a locked room. The investigation for this unique whodunit plays out in various timelines with characters’ ages often not corresponding chronologically. There’s manipulation, subterfuge, and espionage afoot throughout the nation and throughout time. The time travel details are concrete, with the fuel posing a danger if not handled appropriately. There’s even a time travel glossary included at the end, which makes one try that much harder to buy into the concept. Macarenhas gives the reader glimpses into the thoughts of characters, providing more depth to a story that might easily go astray with so much time-hopping chapters. Readers who like speculative fiction with compelling characters and complex relationships will appreciate this story that readily lends oneself to suspend belief, a realistic time travel story, if you will. It’s definitely worth the time! Ha! I was fortunate to receive a copy from the publisher through Net Galley.
Tell me about your writing process: schedule, environment, strategies, inspirations material and intangible, magic spells, and treats.
Describe your publishing process from final draft to final product, including publishing team, timeline, and expectations of you as the author.
What do you love most about your creativity?