storyteller. writer.
I devoured stories as a child, filling my imagination with words and phrases until I was able to begin to craft my own. In science fiction and fantasy, I found endless universes and creatures, and the power of myth to explore the psyche. These are highlights of my current creative projects. In true multi-passionate form, I am writing tales from within 3 distinct universes:
steampunk where mysticism and palace intrigue run high in a time of uneasy peace,
a high fantasy setting where forgotten relics restore an ancient, angry god, and
the magical underbelly in London & New Orleans where the power-mad threaten life as we know it
This summer also gave rise to a new form of creation for me - creative essays inspired by memoir writing, and a new way to make sense of the limits and release within my subconscious.
Vienetta & The quest for the Diamond Sword
“In the final battle, the doyen rose to protect the realm and stood before the gods with the Dengen Sword.” Vienetta heard her father’s words in her head. “They used it against the first of the gods. He withered to bone and dust. One by one, the others fell, until a final god remained.”
Necromancer opening
I was alone in a graveyard somewhere in London. A forgotten place where moss covered most of the toppled headstones and crept up the side of the black monolith before me. How poetic…
…I suffer from dreams. It’s an unfortunate side effect of my gifts, if you want to call them that. Gifts that seem to completely destroy people’s lives.
Curls
I got my hair styled when I was little, sometime near 4 or 5. It was a birthday treat, and I realise, a treat for my mother who sat nightly and dealt with my squirming and cries as she worked through two feet of curl.
I can recall how the stylist didn’t pull my hair as much as my mum, but what I remember most is the stylist telling me all about how wonderful and beautiful my curls were, which I already knew. And how she wished she had hair like this, and how in a few years I’d hate them and wish my hair was straight.
I was incensed. No, I replied with feeling, I love my hair. She and my mum shared a knowing glance and laugh between them.