News

  • Home is…

    A cubist painting of a redhaired girl on a farm

    Annually, as the year draws to a close, I start thinking about my publishing predictions for the next year.

    This year I’m focused on the power and hiding place offered by nostalgia, and not necessarily of a time past, but of a vanishing reality.

    When I was growing up I read and re-read Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery. It was published at a time (1908) when most of its audience lived in cities and life on the land was being romanticised.

    Pollyanna by Eleanor H Porter was published at a similar time (1913), although without the rural setting.

    Both had orphaned heroines, but critically to their broad appeal, both presented the child as a reason for the adults in the novels to open their hearts.

    Children want to be loved.

    Adults want the courage to love and be loved.

    The appeal is obvious today when so many of us feel exhausted; beleaguered, even.

    I suspect that rather than a rural setting where the agricultural industry has stripped out small communities, the contemporary nostalgia will be for big suburban yards, neighbors sitting on porches, and an orphan finding a home. What aspects of contemporary life will be celebrated in these books I’m not sure, but I think freedom and independence will be as important as family.


    When I was checking publishing dates for this post, I also looked up the Australian equivalent novel, A Little Bush Maid by Mary Grant Bruce. Norah lost her mother, but her father was a large and beloved part of the novel, along with her brother and his best friend. It was published in 1910. Celebration of the rural idyll was alive and well even Down Under. (Warning: racism and sexism are both on display in this series, as was true for many of the books from the era.)

  • Alien Possibilities

    cubist surrealist painting of a swamp monster and spaceships

    The other day I was listening, distractedly, to The Futurists podcast. Brett King and guest host Kevin J Anderson were interviewing Jeffrey Morris in an episode called, Filming the Future. Someone on the podcast said something about how the way aliens and monsters were imagined in 1960s movies was a product of the technology that existed to produce them as costumes or puppets or whatever. Now, with that physical limitation removed via CGI, AI, or insert-your-software-acronym-of-choice the possibilities are endless, and that it’s the same with the environment the aliens or monsters exist in.

    But I have doubts about infinite options. I think humans always build cages, or at minimum, impose limits.

    For something to be a commercial success you tend to have to trigger emotional arousal, whether by violence, fear, sex, or ambition. People like to see how they can triumph. Even the catharsis of tragedy can be a triumph (in the sense of achieving satisfaction).

    So I don’t think just any type of alien or monster will appear. I think they’ll have to embody a key driver of our time (like fear linked to the necessity of responding to climate change) and be emotionally arousing with the temptation of triumph.

    Think of Godzilla rampaging after the atomic bombs were dropped.

    And once the movie studios see which monsters audiences respond to we’ll get more of the same.

    As Sir Terry Pratchett once wrote, and I’m quoting from memory so forgive me if I get it a little wrong. “People don’t want news. They want olds.”

    CGI might offer endless possibilities, but we prefer the familiar.

    ***

    I sometimes think how frustrated a newspaper or magazine editor would be if I submitted articles as short and incomplete as these posts. But I like sharing my ideas before I reach any conclusions. I like that I still have room to change my mind, add or subtract from my answers, and wander away down byways.

  • Chaotic Kindness

    a cubist painting of a butterfly in a storm above a jungle

    When you’re writing a novel (or a screenplay) everything your characters do has to serve a purpose. This is related to the idea of plants and payoffs in screenwriting. Readers (audiences) are investing their time and imaginative/emotional energy and they must be rewarded. If the writer shoves something in front of the reader to pay attention to, then that attention has to pay off.

    In fiction clear lines are drawn between action and outcome in a way that real life can’t provide. Real life is like that biblical quotation, “For now, we see through a glass, darkly…”

    Fiction takes the glass and polishes it clear (at least in spots) so that the reader can trace from action to outcome and be satisfied.

    The reason I’ve belaboured the importance of plants and payoffs is because real life seldom rewards us with them.

    We think that the kindnesses we do are seldom noticed, even more rarely rewarded, and what does it even matter?

    But my life philosophy is that while kindness matters, our specific kind actions aren’t the point. We are butterfly wing flaps.

    You know the old chaos theory of a butterfly flapping its wings and triggering a storm hundreds or thousands of miles away?

    I believe that actions we aren’t even aware of taking are potential butterfly wing flaps. We never know what small thing we do may trigger a life-affirming outcome for a stranger.

    Believing in chaotic kindness is a way to journey with hope and to feel connected even when we’re seeing through a glass, darkly. Those times pass. Our unrecognised, vital importance to others never does.

    Thank you for simply being you.

  • Recent Reads – October 2025

    a cubist painting of a magpie reading a kindle

    Teaching Magic by Alanna Cole is a fantasy novel set in a magic academy, but focused on the faculty rather than the students. The world-building is immersive and the character-driven plot excellent. This is the first book I’ve read by this author, but I hadn’t even finished it when I pre-ordered her next release, A Courtship of Dragons.

    It’s been a few years since I read Helen Harper’s Highland Magic series and I enjoyed revisiting it. You can find the boxset here.

    I must have been on a bit of a British kick this month because I also read Celine Jeanjean’s London’s Edge urban fantasy series. Why aren’t there more hyenas in fiction? Plus, I listened to a couple of episodes from the British comedian Tom Allen’s new podcast/YouTube show, Pottering. Jo Brand is a delight, as always!

  • Fiat Lux

    cubist painting of a candle

    When you’re writing, one of the most effective things you can do is evoke something familiar, and then, compel people to question it; to confront it anew.

    Light and darkness are common themes, dualities, in fiction.

    Fiat lux! Let there be light!

    But light as a metaphor loses its impact when it’s always accessible, available at the flick of the switch. Even if electricity goes out suddenly, most of us have our phones near us and they provide sufficient light for us to grope around and find a flashlight.

    When I look at a candle I remember how, for most of human existence, darkness was implacable. Flickering flames were all we could summon to push back the darkness.

    A well-crafted story uses what we take for granted and shakes it up.

    Now, it is not darkness, but light, that threatens and intrudes. Satellites watch us from on high, security lights illuminate us, cameras track us. We are always visible, always on the record.

    Fiat tenebris! Let there be darkness.

    Frightened animals hide in the darkness, they sleep in their burrows. If all our lives are visible, where can we hide from ourselves?

  • Impossible!

    art deco painting of the White Queen

    “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

    The White Queen, Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

    What do we consider impossible? Why imagine it?

    Science fiction and fantasy both explore impossible worlds. With science fiction, elements of the world may one day come true (still waiting on my flying car), but fantasy is purely imaginary.

    Some people argue that we should believe impossibilities (conceive of them) so that we can achieve them.

    I am really tired of people turning entertainment into utility. We don’t have to be productive all the time. Neither do we have to pursue constant self-improvement.

    Imagining the impossible—inhabiting the impossible—is about being free.

    Is it impossible for us to have wings? Maybe. Should we still dream of flying? Absolutely.

  • Excess

    cubist painting of the interior of a crowded hoarder's house

    Many people blame Kindle Unlimited and its pay-by-pages-read remuneration system for the increased padding in novels: lots of description, limp banter, and holy socks! have you seen how litrpg novels pad out word count with repeated system statistics?

    But in fact padding, or excess verbiage, is a reflection of current attitudes.

    We’re used to accumulating stuff and we suck at getting rid of it. Have you seen how many storage unit complexes exist on the outskirts of our cities?

    A good editor can help an author eliminate the dross, but that raises a different question: is it dross?

    For as many people who hate limp banter, others adore it.

    The system stats that I skip in litrpg novels fascinate other readers.

    Excess isn’t always excess. It can be valuable to the right audience, and that’s often why it stays. Why eliminate something that someone may enjoy? (An argument remarkably similar to the argument for filling a new storage unit; that is, “we can’t get rid of that only slightly chipped teapot, someone might want it one day, if not to make tea in, maybe as a garden ornament. Wouldn’t it look darling with pansies growing in it?”).

    And as an author, I’ll let you into a secret. That excess can make a really effective hiding place for clues you need to sneak in.

  • Now We’re Talking

    Painting of a fishing boat in a storm

    “Excep’ talk. I’d forgot that. You ain’t asked to talk more’n you’ve a mind to aboard the We’re Here. Keep your eyes open, an’ help Dan to do ez he’s bid, an’ sechlike, an’ I’ll give you—you ain’t wuth it, but I’ll give—ten an’ a ha’af a month; say thirty-five at the end o’ the trip. A little work will ease up your head, and you kin tell us all abaout your dad an’ your ma an’ your money afterwards.”

    Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling, 1897

    A century or so ago dialects and accents featured heavily in fiction. Then the fashion changed. Perhaps people found reading accents hard going, or realized that sometimes the dialogue was flattened by striving for effect or that the attempt was wildly inaccurate.

    If you’ve ever heard Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins attempting a Cockney accent you’ll know what I mean.

    Nowadays the flavour of an accent is hinted at, and at its best, achieved by the rhythm of the writing. Mary Jane Staples wrote pitch perfect Cockney.

    Sammy, practical though he was, could not help being touched by the request. He said, “In consideration of you being a credit to me business, Miss Brown, I am happy to inform you I’ll use me highly regarded influence on your behalf.”

    King of Camberwell by Mary Jane Staples (pseudonym for Reginald Thomas Staples)

    Dialogue is difficult. When you’re writing it well a reader should be able to tell who’s talking even without tags. However, it’s possible to go too far in that direction and end up with a caricature rather than a character. Also, when a scene is moving swiftly, unobtrustive tags (who-saids and actions) are necessary to avoid confusion. Dialogue can’t do everything.

    Basically I think of dialogue as poetry: when you get it right, it sings!

  • Recent Reads – September 2025

    a cubist painting in shades of brown of a bored woman

    I think I can best describe the books I’ve read this month as “meh”. Some I finished. Many I DNF’d.

    I can recommend Domination by Alice Roberts. I’m reading it slowly, enjoying both the history of the early Western Christianity church and its interweaving with political power and Professor Roberts’ style.

    Since I don’t have any other books to recommend this month, I thought I’d mention a couple of podcasts.

    If you’re interested in an author’s experience of publishing, with a focus on traditional publishing and the soul-sucking, disappointing reality, Dave Wragg is a guest on the SFF Addict podcast talking about the midlist death spiral. He’s a little bit sweary. It’s a good, honest account of the author experience.

    For interesting science discussions enlivened by a guest comedian, the Infinite Monkey Cage hosted by Brian Cox and Robin Ince. Any episode! They’re all great.

    Are there any podcasts you recommend?

  • What to Wear

    cubist painting inspired by a fashion show

    If you’re willing to lose hours and days, please proceed.

    Fashion Resources

    The Fashion History Timeline – a wide-ranging resource

    https://fashionhistory.fitnyc.edu/about-timeline/

    We Wear Culture

    https://artsandculture.google.com/project/fashion

    Fashion history on Reddit

    https://www.reddit.com/r/fashionhistory


    Interested in 1920s fashion?

    At Vogue, Lila Ramzi has a fantastic article on what women wore: 

    https://www.vogue.com/article/1920s-fashion-history-lesson

    At Gentleman’s Gazette, Sven Raphael Schneider covers what men wore:

    https://www.gentlemansgazette.com/what-men-wore-1920s/


    Or go back to the very beginning of clothing and adornment

    https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/oldest-clothing-accessories-in-history/


    The demand for vintage clothing is strong enough that vintage sewing patterns have been adjusted to modern sizes and reissued.

    https://www.sewdirect.com.au/product-category/collections/vintage-patterns

    (I can sew, but it drives me wild, so it’s one of the first hard-won skills I abandoned.)


    Do you have any fashion resources you refer to?


    On a related topic, if you ever get a chance to watch The Supersizers Go… grab it! This British TV show where Sue Perkins (comedian) and Giles Coren (food critic) dressed up and ate the food of an era is brilliant.