Sarah Kate Ishii's Blog, page 4

Something's Coming ... Children's Fantasy Book 2024

I'm so excited to share with you all the news that I have a children's fantasy book coming out soon! And to celebrate, today's post is all about sharing with you the sneak peek: a hint of a reveal.

I've wanted to be a fantasy author my whole life. Ever since my parents used to first read to me, I was trying to create my own books.

Naturally, as a toddler, that meant making picture books. And as I grew, the books I wrote grew with me, always staying at the same level.

Now I'm an adult, true, I do tend to write for my own age group still. I have always had the habit of writing the book I want to read.

That said, the desire to create children's picture books never left me. I just sat on it way too long.

The truth is, I was meant to have a children's book out two or three years ago. It was written. Edited. An illustrator was found. The art was worked on and finished. It was meant to be published.

But something held it back. Now, I'm not ready to talk about that yet, but what I am ready to talk about is this new project I've been working on in secret.

Many of you by now will know I had a baby in 2022. Since then, the desire to create more children's books only grew stronger. I wanted to create books he could read. Books that told him of the cultures and folklores and stories of his heritages: Japan and Celtic England. These are stories many children might not know, and so I wanted to write them for him, for Makoto, and share them with the world. For other children to enjoy too and learn about the cultures they too might share.

While the other children's fantasy book was held up, I worked hard to start these new works, starting with a story from Japan after speaking with my mother-in-law about what her favourite Japanese folklore creature was.

She said kitsuné.

She said it was a shame it was often portrayed only as a prankster, a bad creature, when oftentimes there was good too, and many shrines even had them as special guardians. 'What about the guardian side of it?' she said.

That's what she wished the world knew, wished was in more stories.

I LOVE the kitsuné. I use them in so much of my work. Naturally, I was so happy to oblige.

There's a kitsuné story heading your way soon.

Time for the sneak peek fantasy illustration reveal

Now, thanks for staying with me while I set the scene. You've earned the sneak peek reveal.

Keep an eye on this blog. Keep an eye on my socials. Sign up for my waitlist.

There's a children's fantasy book dropping with some of the most magical illustrations you've ever seen, and it's coming soon.

I'm so excited.

Want to join the waitlist for news on the new children's fantasy book direct to your mailbox?

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Fantasy Character Spotlight: Gora from Dynasty Codes

A fan fav, I wanted to feature Gora in my first fantasy character spotlight post. He's the one with the most reader ravings, to the point there have been requests for a book dedicated to just Gora and his story before the events of Dynasty Codes takes place.

Well, for those of you asking, I'm pleased to say there WILL be a prequel: and it'll all be Gora's backstory. It's pretty chilling.

And honestly, I get it. He's one of my favourite characters to write too. There was always something about him that made him seem like a real person. He's been a character I've seen clearly since I was 18, and I couldn't find a story for him until Yoshiko came along, and then it clicked that they would be in a story together. It worked so well. The duo, the sibling-like bickering, but the way they could support each other even if they came from totally different backgrounds.

So let's take a look into one of our favourite characters, and I'd love if you can comment below too and let me know what you thought of him.

Fantasy Character Spotlight: Gora

Secondary character of Origin Curse, primary MC of Dark Tides. Upcoming primary MC of as-yet-unnamed WIP, Gora's Story.

Age: unknown. Mid thirties ... ish. But as he was stolen as a boy, he had no idea how long he was at sea. He just guesses at this point.

A boy born in the magical land of Eire, Gora has a lilting accent, a love of songs and stories of magic, and is a quiet soul. Introverted, he just likes time on his own.

But after being stolen from his home by pirates, he had a rough and dishonest life as he was forced to slave on their ships. He vowed to escape at any cost. He's had a lot of crime and blood on his hands, and he hates it.

When he did finally manage to escape, he vowed to only do good again. Only help people. And so this quiet man found a home in a country as far away as possible from the ones who stole him and lived the honest life of a do-all hunter and handyman. He loves this quiet life by the forest, but always ends up getting sucked up into bad things to help people.

The thing that gets me the most about him is that even though he would love to return home, to Eire, he has no idea how to return home at all. So he abandoned that plan altogether and forced himself to live a new life.

Hobbies: hunting, carpenting (badly), drinking, singing, cooking.

Skilled in: fighting (double blade, mostly cutlass), cooking, hunting, singing.

Dislikes: annoying people, lots of noise, crime, Yoshiko's cooking (seriously thinks it will kill him).

Key friend: Yoshiko. Even though he thinks she's too loud, energetic, never shuts up, and gets annoyed at all the questions she never stops asking, he thinks of her like the little sister he never got to have and likes annoying and teasing her, and would hunt down anyone who hurt her. And does.

Current career: Captain of the Sea Guardian, making the seas safe from pirates and slavers to try to make sure no child is forced into a life like he was.

Get in touch

Was there anything else about Gora's character that you liked best? Or is there a fantasy character spotlight from Dynasty Codes you want to see next? Let me know in the comments below.

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How to Grow as a Creator: A Book Lesson from The Diary of a CEO

I'm currently reading The Diary of a CEO by Steven Bartlett. My husband and I watch his podcast, by the same name of the book, and Steven's reflections on growth really hit home. I'm at a time where I'm working harder in my own growth as an author, and so this book quote below seemed perfect to share a little book lesson with you all. I hope it helps you all grow as creators too.

When you're a new creator, it's easy to feel like you're not good enough. Not qualified. Not worthy of people seeing and buying your work. I get it. I was the same, and honestly, still am. It takes a long time for that to change.

And what I've learned is that only doing, only creating your work, will be what changes that.

There's no amount of studying the thing that will help you become good at it. Really, the only way to become good is by doing.

Showing up. Practising every day. Writing book after book after book.

I'll be honest. I wish I'd started with smaller projects. Got used to my voice. My writing style. Found my audience. Instead, I had this massive vision for a chunky trilogy, and while I had so much fun writing it, if I started over, I'd wait and make that maybe my third set of work. Try out a couple of shorter books first.

Just show up and practise writing books.

I've learned more about writing and publishing books by actually writing and publishing them than I could from anything else.

Each book I write feels smoother, more manageable, more fun, and I'm finding my systems.

Marketing and finding my audience is still the challenge. I've always been the sort of person who'd rather just write than to be on socials, but I know I need to do both now.

So I'm starting at level zero for socials. But that's okay. You grow by doing what you're unqualified for, right?

So if you're at the start of your book journey, or feeling stuck, I want you to embrace this book lesson from The Diary of a CEO.

Don't worry. You don't HAVE to be qualified yet. That's why you're doing to write. To create. To show up for yourself and your goals.

Come back in a year's time and tell me how you've grown. Guarantee it'll be more by doing.

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Chasing Imperfection: Confessions of a Fantasy Author

You know that question asked in interviews: 'What's your greatest weakness?' Many of us reply, 'I'm too much of a perfectionist,' believing it showcases dedication and skill. However, I recently stumbled upon a compelling argument against this. It suggests embracing imperfection and recognising when our work is 'good enough,' rather than endlessly pursuing an unattainable standard of perfection. As a fantasy author, this hit too close to home. Here’s why.

 

When you go into a bookstore, especially as an author, it can be quite anxiety inducing. All those books, finished, bound, in their final form. They look wonderful. They’ve been drafted, revised countless times, edited, fully designed.

 

As a fantasy author sitting at home, it’s easy to compare yourself to those final books. To feel subpar. To think you have to keep working to some unrealistic standard and get there on your own.

 

To make it perfect.

 

I can speak from experience though that my desire to chase perfection just slows me down. Overwhelms me. Invites worse imposter syndrome.

 

How can we ever get it perfect.

 

Instead, we need to chase imperfection. Get it as good as you can get it. Work on something as much as you can. But also learn when to say ‘that’s enough’.

 

Then share your work.

 

I wonder how many people here know how long it took me to get book 1: Origin Curse out?

 

How many people here know I have not one, not two, but THREE children’s picture books hanging in the works, so nearly ready to release but so … stopped?

 

My previous desire to chase perfection on them is holding them back, and it frustrates me.

 

But how can I learn how to let go?

 

One has been holding on for so long that now I look back at the story and the images, I want to start over.

 

Why?

 

Why do we do this to ourselves?

 

People enjoyed the story when they read it. So why am I pausing that final step?

 

The release?

 

Chasing imperfection wastes time. People could be enjoying your work. Instead, you hold on.

 

Do I need to fix that 99%, or could I have let it go already?

 

My work doesn’t need to be perfect. Nor does yours. We’re on an every-growing journey that lasts for life.

 

Our earlier work can be explorative. Growing. We’re always developing. Never staying the same but growing.

 

And our readers will join us on that growth journey. They’ll see your work change over time.

 

And that’s part of the beauty.

 

I know all this, and in my heart I still find it hard to let go. To release the work that is less than perfect. I wonder what it will take for me to show it.

 

Life shouldn’t be about chasing perfection. It should be about knowing when to be imperfect. To not waste that time fixing those tiny little details. To embrace where you are at this time. ‘This is my best now, and my best will keep growing.’

 

Otherwise, you could just work on something forever and never be happy, never share your work.

 

I want to be a fantasy author for the rest of my life. Share so many stories.

 

But I’m holding myself back.

 

I have so many ideas in my head that I get frustrated I can’t work on, because I spend too much time chasing perfection. Not allowing myself the room to be at peace with where I am now and let go.

 

So don’t be like me and hold yourself back.

 

Let’s work on it together. I’ll make a promise now to work more on knowing when to be imperfect. Being kinder to myself, less strict. To chase imperfection and share the fantasy worlds and people I dream of so you can read them.

 

Promise me you’ll chase imperfection and share your work too.

 

Even if we have to close our eyes to hit the publish button.

 

I’m sure our readers will forgive us. They’re here for the journey. The growth. We just need to forgive ourselves.

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Beth and the River Spirit

The girl crosses the river every day to get to school.

She’s just about tall enough to peek over the walls of the stone bridge, standing on her tiptoes, to watch the shimmering grey water flicker with fish.

She likes to drop a leaf or a stick into the river on one side of the bridge and then race the current to the other side.

It makes her giggle when she wins.

Sometimes, when she has time on her way home from school, she walks along the bank and crouches in the sandy mud, peering at her wobbly reflection as the dark eyes peer back.

Then a fish swims through her reflection’s nose and she giggles and runs along the bank squealing before skipping home.

But that day, when the girl raced the leaf and then giggled at her wobbly reflection in the light grey water, it was green eyes that peered back. Not dark eyes.

She blinked and leaned closer.

The reflection leaned closer too.

She smiled, but the reflection didn’t. It looked at her curiously, and then in shock as the girl splashed her hand into the water and grabbed tight with a tiny fist.

The reflection tried to swim away, and the girl tumbled after it, landing on her belly in the water and squealing with the cold.

By the time she’d rubbed the water from her eyes and looked for the reflection, it was nowhere to be seen, and so she clambered out of the river and squelched home.

The next day, the girl skipped racing leaves and sticks in the river and went straight down to the river bank, crouching closely even though she knew she could fall in and get wet again, spending her day at school wet or in her PE kit.

But it didn’t matter.

What were those green eyes?

She’d grabbed something yesterday, and it had tried swimming off. She knew it.

And it hadn’t been a fish.

It had a face just like her, and sad, lonely eyes.

Like the eyes of the puppy her mum and her had rescued from the pet home one day, and now the puppy looked at her with love-filled happy eyes as it bounded around with her every day and rolled on the carpet.

Excitement grew in the little girl’s chest.

What was the creature she’d seen, and could she play with it like she played with her puppy?

She leaned over the water and peered inside.

Only dark eyes stared back.

At first.

Before the disappointment set in, the creature flashed below the water, and green eyes stared back. This time next to her reflection, not inside it.

The girl leaned closer, and so did the face in the water, until it came above the water and wet sandy-coloured hair floated about the face with green eyes, and a small girl peered back.

‘You’re a girl!’ the young girl squealed, a toothy grin spreading across her face as she looked at the girl in the water. And then her smile faded. ‘Are you okay? Are you stuck?’ She looked around for a grown up. ‘Do you want to come out?’

The green-eyed girl in the water shook her head.

‘Why not? Isn’t it cold.’

The girl in the water opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if deciding what to say. And then a small smile appeared on her face.

‘I live here.’

‘In the water? Why not a house?’

The green-eyed girl giggled and stood up, water dripping around a simple cloth dress and shorts. ‘This is my house.’ And when she saw the other girl scrunch her face up with confusion, she continued. ‘I’m a river spirit. So the river is my house.’

The dark eyed girl pouted as she thought, shifting from a crouch to plonking on her bottom on the river bank. Forget a muddy school uniform. Forget going to school on time at all. This was more interesting. ‘What’s a river spirit?’

‘A magical creature. I look after the river.’

‘Oooh,’ the other girl said, not really understanding. ‘Well, my name’s Beth. I’m a human. I look after my puppy.’ Then she added, ‘When I’m not at school.’

Beth frowned and looked around, seeing other people in school uniforms rushing over the bridge and towards the school building in the distance, where a bell was ringing in the playground.

‘Oh no! I need to go.’ She rushed to stand up and brushed the dirt from her uniform with her hands, and looked back at the river spirit. ‘Will you be here when I come home?’

The river spirit looked at Beth curiously, and then nodded. ‘I’m always here.’

Beth grinned, and raced up the banks and waved as she crossed the stony bridge, feeling her heart pounding at the thought of seeing her new friend again later.

True to her word, the river spirit was there every time Beth ran by. It didn’t matter where she went by the river—over the bridge, by the bank, by the bushes on the side of the river on the other side of the village—the river spirit always appeared with a small smile. Beth always answered with a toothy grin.

One day, Beth left early so she could spend more time with the river spirit, running up to her and sliding on her bum down the river bank as she slipped on the wet mud. She laughed as she skidded to a stop by the river spirit’s legs. ‘Hey! Whatcha looking for?’

‘How did you know I was looking for something?’

Beth tilted her head as she thought. ‘Every time I leave, you always turn back to the river and crouch down as if you’re hunting for something. And you swim as if you’re searching in the water. Have you lost something?’

The river spirit’s gentle smile faded, and instead her mouth quivered and her eyes watered. Beth panicked.

‘Oh no! Don’t cry!’

She grabbed the river spirit’s hand and smiled. ‘What did you lose? I can help you find it.’ She pointed to her chest with her thumb. ‘I’m great at finding things! And it’ll be quicker with two, right? That’s what my parents always say.’

The girl nodded and looked down at her feet as she responded, voice quiet as if she didn’t want to say it too loud in fear of punishment. ‘I lost my river crystal.’

She looked up when Beth said nothing, met with an exaggeratedly confused expression.

‘It’s like the heart of the river.’ She made her hands into a little circle. ‘It’s about this big, a light, clear grey like the river. Without it, I can’t go back to the spirit world where all the other spirits live. It’s how we move between the two places.’

‘So you do have a proper home?’

The river spirit tilted her head. ‘Well … it’s hard to say. The river is my home, but I’m also the river. And the spirit world is also my home.’

She saw it wasn’t helping Beth.

‘We don’t have homes like humans do.’

‘But if you have this crystal it’ll help you be happy?’

The river spirit nodded and let her small smile slip back across her face, and Beth grinned.

‘Okay!’ Her school bell tolled in the distance, and Beth ran up the bank, waving. ‘I’ve got to go now, but let’s hunt together from here on. I’ll see you after school!’

True to her word, Beth helped the river spirit hunt for the river’s crystal heart every day, before and after school, and even on the streets and in the shops as she walked with her parents. It took what felt like weeks, but when Beth eventually found it trapped under some netting and bottles in a drain by the edge of the river way down stream from where she usually met the river spirit, on a fishing trip with her grandpa, her heart soared.

She’d found it!

She begged her grandpa to help her get it free, and then she hugged it to her chest. It was cold. She didn’t know what else she’d expected it to be, as a stone stuck in the river.

But her hand’s always warm, she thought, thinking back to the river spirit’s hand. Will it warm up if I give it to her?

She kept it safe in her pocket, the grin on her face at the thought of her friend’s face when she gave it back.

Except the next day, when she eagerly ran down to the river to show the river spirit what she’d found, she paused on the top of the bank, staring down at the pale haired girl as she swam through the river and then stopped to look back up at Beth with her usual kind smile.

But if I give her this, will she leave?

The river spirit had only been here while she’d been searching for the crystal, hadn’t she? Beth didn’t remember seeing her before that.

It’ll help her go back to the spirit world. But then she won’t be here.

Stuck in her indecision, Beth froze, waved back at the river spirit with a stoney smile, and then made an excuse about having to school early, running as fast as she could with her hand on her pocket in the hopes the crystal wouldn’t fall out or the spirit wouldn’t realise.

Her heart scratched with an odd feeling.

The same feeling she’d had when she’d stolen the last of her mother’s special biscuits without asking.

The same feeling she’d had when she’d accidentally broken the window with a ball.

Her face burned, and her eyes burned, and she sniffed.

I don’t want her to go.

Days passed, and Beth kept feeling fearful of giving the crystal back. She met the river spirit. Played with her as usual. Helped her ‘hunt’ for the crystal. And that scratchy feeling in her heart got worse and the crystal in her pocket felt heavier each day.

Until she cried in front of her mother one night.

‘What if she goes away forever?’ Beth cried into her pillow, staring at the crystal on her bedside table.

‘Who?’

And when Beth realised she’d never told her family about the river spirit, she explained, hoping they’d believe her and not tell her she was making it all up. She told her mother about the girl, the hunt for the special stone, and how she’d found it on a fishing trip with her grandpa and how she was scared of giving it back in case the spirit disappeared forever and she never saw her again.

‘I know I should give it to her. I want to see her happy. But what if she leaves? Then I’ll be sad.’

She sniffed into the pillow and refused to look at her mother’s face in case her mother was angry. There was a long pause. Beth’s heart pounded.

‘What if it was the other way around?’ And when Beth’s mother saw she was looking confused, she continued. ‘Imagine you were lost. You found a friend and played, and it was fun, but at the end of the day you realised you still needed to come home. Back to us. If your friend knew the way home, would you want them to tell you so you could find us, even though they might not get to keep playing with you?’

‘Of course! I wouldn’t want to not see you again. This is home!’

Beth froze and then smushed her face in her pillow.

‘Okay. I get it.’

‘Even if it’ll make you sad, if it’s the right thing, you still have to do it. It’s not your life. And you don’t know. She might still come back to see you. You said she could travel between the two worlds, right?’

Beth nodded and turned to look at her mother. She smiled.

The next day, she left extra early. Early enough to give the crystal back and then run to school and cry in the toilets before class if the spirit got angry at her. But when she ran to meet the river spirit, and she explained her story, the river spirit didn’t get angry.

Her green eyes lit up and she gave Beth the biggest smile Beth had ever seen on her, and the scratchy guilty feeling in Beth’s heart faded, replaced with an excited, burning glow.

‘You’ll still come and play with me sometimes?’ Beth asked nervously.

‘Yes! And we can play even more. If I can go home, I can be even stronger, and I can play for hours!’

‘Like eating food makes you stronger?’

‘Like that.’ The river spirit grinned and attached the crystal back to a chain she had in her pocket, hooking it back over her neck. Then she looked up at Beth, tilted her head like she always did when she thought, and then she held a hand over the stone.

It’s glowing!

A piece of the stone broke off, but Beth couldn’t see a flaw in the stone where it had.

‘Magic?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Magic.’ The spirit smiled and held the small piece of crystal out to her. ‘It’s a promise. Let’s play again soon.’

The piece of crystal was light in her hands, and Beth stared at it in awe. When she looked up, the river spirit had gone, little glowing dots disappearing in her place. And while Beth’s eyes burned at the thought of her friend leaving, she told herself the crystal was real.

It was the promise.

I wrote this and published it on my AO3 back in October 2023 but realised I hadn't shared it here, so here we go, another fantasy short story!

Any guesses where the inspo for this one came from?

#FantasyShortStory #ShortStories #FantasyBooks

The Memory Café

I don’t know what it was that made me step into that place. From the outside, it was an unspectacular shop front on a busy street with as many cafés as stray animals, sniffing around and lounging in any spot untouched by human feet. But I was parched from travel, and it was the first one my tired eyes focussed on close enough for me to stumble towards, and so I pushed open the old, creaking, green-painted, peeling wooden door.

A waft of mixed tea leaves and relaxing scents hit me and immediately unravelled the pressure I’d felt building up in my head. A lightness, a glee, a curiosity overtook me, and I took the final step over the barrier and let the door shut behind me, with a failed tinkling of the bell as the door knocked past it.

In big cities like this, I expected young energetic waiters in their fancy clothes to rush up to me, but instead an old lady sat patiently at the payment desk, smiling absentmindedly at me. It was closer to the inns I knew from villages and towns, but this smell was certainly new.

‘Morning,’ I muttered, feeling the stress build up in my head again and immediately dying to flop into one of the old, mismatching armchairs pushed up against the old wooden tables and guzzle the first liquid that came my way. Travelling for weeks on end to a new kingdom had taken it out of me, and I didn’t even know what to order if she offered me anything past the standard muck of over-boiled leaf juice that was all too common in the poor travellers’ inns I knew. I tossed my ponytail over my shoulder and forced myself to smile at her. To be nice when all I wanted to do was crash and sleep for a month.

She continued smiling the absentminded smile, but crinkles appeared at the corners of her pale blue eyes as she met my gaze. ‘Ooh, hello, dear. Have I met you before?’

I smiled back and shook my head. ‘I’m just travelling through.’

‘Travelling? Tiring business. Must be parched, you poor dear.’ She bumbled herself up to standing, not raising much more than she had been when she was sitting. Then, she shuffled about beside her, hunting for something. ‘Where is it?’ She muttered to herself. Then her face lit up. ‘Ah, there it is!’

The old lady pushed an old piece of paper towards me, with handwritten squiggles of what I saw to be a menu when I looked closer.

‘The tea here is special,’ she said with a warmth in her voice, like a grandmother to a favourite grandchild. ‘Choose any you like.’

I didn’t want to tell her I couldn’t really read it, and at this point, anything would do, so I pointed to one randomly and she bustled me off to sit on a chair by the fireplace—a prime spot, she said. Perfect for a traveller, she said.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I dumped my travel pack on the floor under my chair, tossed my coat onto the armchair’s back, and collapsed into the seat gratefully, leaning back and staring at the ceiling as my body creaked back into a sense of relaxation.

When was the last time I sat down like this?

The muddy banks of roads and smelly ale-infused wooden stools didn’t count.

While I waited, I traced my finger over the grains on the tabletop, and wondered about the tea I had ordered. While I hadn’t been picky, I really wanted to have something enjoyable for the first time in weeks. Some tea could be so bitter. I wanted something light, relaxing, refreshing.

A light rattling of china drew my attention across the café, and I saw it wasn’t just me who’d perked to attention. All eyes were on the little old lady as she tottered across the room with my cup of tea on a mismatching saucer, carrying it as carefully as she could, a soft smile on her face even though it was clearly shaking. Her focussed gaze told me it was mine.

I leapt back onto my blistered feet and rushed to take it from her. ‘Thank you! I’ll get it, don’t worry,’ I said breathlessly, nervous. I’d never expected her to bring it herself. I looked about behind her. Was there not anyone else working here?

‘Thank you, dear!’ she grinned. ‘What did you say your name was again?’

‘I didn’t,’ I said, taking a sniff at the tea. It seemed to smell quite decent, though I couldn’t recognise it. ‘It’s Emeline. What’s yours?’

‘Lovely name!’ she said, turning and tottering away without answering my question.

I shrugged. Perhaps she was private. And in any case, I’d become overly aware of the dryness of my mouth, and the strange tea was calling to me, so I carefully trod back to my chair and relaxed back into it, staring into the cup and wondering what I was about to drink.

Apprehensive, I took a tiny sip to test it.

Not bad, I thought, trying to identify the tastes. Something floral, perhaps. But I wasn’t familiar with these parts, and the plants could have been completely different in this climate. I made a mental note to ask her next time I spoke with her.

I took a bigger gulp, ignoring the searing heat and letting my animalistic, needing side take over. I cried out lightly with the heat, but the strange floral taste gushed down with the heat, and it left an instant refreshing buzz through my body. I felt lighter, and something nostalgic flushed through me.

I’d never had this taste before, but somehow, I thought of my home town. Where I’d come from. My family, my childhood.

A light smile crossed my face and I sat contently, sipping and looking curiously about the room now my base thirst had been sated. The room was cosier than I’d thought on first looks. The mismatching fabrics on the armchairs looked cute and clearly a labour of love as if the lady had looked after and mended these chairs all her life. The tables and mismatching china cups and saucers too. Little candle-lit lamps fluttered warm light through the room, and daylight came in through the dusty windows. Everyone seemed happy enough. A lightness in their postures, smiles on their faces as they chatted and laughed, a light buzz over the room.

It was an old looking place, but one that seemed full of soft love.

I took another bigger gulp of my tea and felt that flush of floral nostalgia flush through my body again. Really, what was this tea? It was like the worries of my travel had left my body and years were being shaved off me. Memories of lighter times crossed my mind, and I smiled as I stared unseeing at the fire, instead thinking of my life before. Of times I had played with my brother in the fields and helped my father gather twigs for the fire.

When the last drop of tea was drunk, I was surprised to feel disappointment. As if I wanted to keep drinking forever. I’d never felt so relaxed in a long time, nor had the opportunity to sit and think about times before. Life had been so busy, stressful. It had all changed. I never gave myself time to reminisce. Perhaps it was this setting.

I saw the old lady sitting at the counter again and decided to ask her about the tea. If I could purchase some of the tea leaves in this town and take it with me, perhaps I could enjoy my travels a little more. Take a piece of luxury with me.

‘Oh, hello, dear! Have I seen you before? Would you like some tea?’

I paused and blinked. ‘Um, no thank you. I’ve just had some, remember?’

‘Oh, is that right?’

Her face looked innocent enough, so I smiled and shrugged it off. She must be busy, running this place all on her own, meeting lots of people coming and going.

‘I actually wanted to ask about the tea I had. It was wonderful. So light. Refreshing. Can I buy the leaves around here?’

She smiled. ‘This tea is special tea,’ she said again. She rose to her feet again and bustled about her, looking for something. ‘Ah, there it is.’ She smiled as she handed me the menu again.

‘It was this one,’ I said, pointing at the one I was sure I’d chosen before. ‘What is it?’

‘You’d like that one? Good choice. You sit down and rest. You look tired, dear. I’ll make it.’

I looked up from the menu at her again, something striking like a warning through my body. ‘No, err. I’ve already had it. What was it called again?’

‘Oh, have you really? Oh! Lovely!’

I just looked at her, not really sure what to say.

‘That one is special tea,’ she said again. I was about to open my mouth when she leaned in conspiratorially and raised her hand to her mouth as if guarding a secret. ‘All the tea here is. It gives you your memories.’

That made me pause. I didn’t really know what she’d meant. Before I could say anything else though, her eyes flashed as if she’d remembered something.

‘Kettle’s ready!’ she said, and she turned to bustle about behind her, pouring water into a teapot and lightly stirring it with a soft, absentminded smile on her face. Then she gave a little satisfied nod and poured it into a china cup, turning behind her to choose a mismatching saucer from a shelf full of just saucers.

I didn’t know why she just didn’t store them all paired up.

Instead of commenting, I watched her carefully making her way across the floor to a customer, the cup tinkling lightly on the saucer as she walked. As she stood in front of a table, the customer leapt up and took it from her and smiled gratefully, but then looked down at the tea, confused.

‘Wait, I’ve already had my tea,’ they realised. They looked around. ‘Is this someone else’s?’

The room fell quiet, and people shook their head. Someone piped up, ‘I’m waiting on an alderfruit, but that smells leaf-based?’

But the lady had walked off by the time they’d conversed, and she was back in front of me at the counter. Confused, the customers simply sat down, staring at the tea and shrugging at one another.

I wondered if the lady would make the other customer’s leaf tea next, but she simply sat down and smiled at me. ‘Oh, hello, dear. Would you like some tea?’

I stared. ‘Um, no thank you. I wanted to pay.’

Digging into my money pouch, I saw the coins for the number scrawled on the menu and left her extra. She clutched the coins in her little wrinkled hands as if they were treasure, and she smiled up at me as if she was surprised to receive it. I couldn’t help but smile back, though worry gnawed at me. I grabbed my travel pack and coat and waved as I left, giving genuine thanks.

It was the best tea I could ever remember. And it had helped me to remember a lot.

But as I walked away, something made me stop and turn and look back at the café. And this time, I noticed the old, peeling painted sign about the door.

Mystea Memories.

I let out a soft breath. An appropriate name indeed.

‘Oh, old Nimmie’s place?’ A market keeper asked me as I enquired about the tea leaves a few minutes later at the local markets as I stopped for supplies. ‘Yes, people love her tea. Brings back their memories, they say. I’m afraid that’s special tea. I’ve never been able to find it, and Nimmie keeps it a closely guarded secret.’

I looked at the stocky market woman curiously as she packed my fruits and vegetables into a little canvas sack to place inside my pack for me.

‘True, honest. It’s a little grubby, but it’s the hope of the town. We all go there at some point.’ She sighed and looked down. ‘If we’ve lost something and want to find it again. In our heads, that is. Some things can’t be found again.’ She looked up at me knowingly. ‘Reckon that’s how she started it. She’s not been the same since her wife Valeria died. And as she’s got older on her own, she’s gotten a bit forgetful, you know. Always mixing orders up. Forgetting them. Giving people two lots. But we just get used to it.’ She gave an amused snort. ‘We just fix it ourselves. But travellers like you get a bit confused.’

I agreed.

‘Happens to us all, as you get old. Reckon she made the tea to help her remember—remember Valeria, that is. Then just kind of opened up her home as a café to help others remember too. You must’ve seen something too, right?’

I gawped. ‘That was the tea? I thought it was just the cosyness and finally being able to rest?’

‘Yeah, see. Special stuff.’ She handed me the bag, and I gave her the coins. ‘Sorry I can’t get ya them leaves. But I snuck somethin’ extra in there for you.’ A big grin crossed her face as I stuttered a thanks. ‘You’ll find the baker down there,’ she jabbed a thumb down the street. ‘Make sure you look after yourself on the roads. Dangerous places.’

I left to let her help the person behind me, and stared back at Mystea Memories, thinking of old Nimmie, how she’d sat there smiling absentmindedly, bustling about. Her little absentminded stare and smile.

How she’d been running a tea shop just to remember her wife. I wondered for how long she’d been alone.

Tears stung my eyes, but I gulped them back.

They were all right. That was special tea. And a special woman. I had a feeling Nimmie would leave a mark on me forever.

I left a mark on my map for her. A memory.

Sarah’s note

I don’t really know how to process grief. I’m in another country, on the other side of the world, far away from what my family had experienced.

My grandmother had suffered from dementia for a while, and each time I video called her when my dad could drive ‘up north’ to visit her, I saw the signs dig in a little more.

The absentminded stares. How she’d just watch me, fascinated that she could talk to me on a screen on the other side of the world. Just listening to Papa and me as she spoke and tried to bring her into the conversations.

It started with repetition. The same stories. But I’d thought that was normal. She’s done that ever since I was a little girl. Each time we drove up north to see her. But then it got worse.

But it didn’t really bite until I after I’d been away from the country for a couple of years.

Then the falls started. I didn’t realise until recently that dementia could cause falls. That your brain stopped telling your body things.

She was strong, sturdy, stubborn. A northern woman. Hardy. It felt so odd. We knew she’d die, but didn’t really believe it, really. How could we? She lived so long after her husband died, but I wondered in her days with dementia what she remembered.

She remembered me. She even remembered my son, even though she couldn’t remember other ‘new’ things. She didn’t remember my husband, I think. But my child, her first and only grandchild, was such a big moment, they said, that she remembered. And my family took new printed pictures of my son each time they visited so she could see him even when they weren’t there.

She had pictures of him all over her room.

I wish I could have taken him to see her, but it felt too far for such a small child.

I don’t know how to process this, and this piece of writing has been brewing for months. Since before she died. Since I saw things getting worse.

I think I could finally get it out.

Life of a Writer: a Book Update

It’s been a while since I gave an update on the books I’m writing. The life of a writer is chaotic in a conceptual way; there are always multiple WIPs going on at once, and I’m guilty of being attracted to new shiny things.

 

Book 3, Noble Blood, of the Dynasty Codes series is still in drafting. I appreciate the patience of those waiting for it. I regularly get asked by readers when it’s due to be out, and honestly, it’ll be a while! It’s a grand tome, and has to wrap up the whole concept of the curse into it’s chaotic finale, and I want to make sure it’s right. I promise I won’t do a George R. R. Martin though. It will be out, and I’m hoping in a couple of years at most. But big books do take time.

 

I’m excited to share some other WIPs too, these being standalones.

 

An urban fantasy, WIP name torn between ‘Yokai Hunters’ or ‘Amaterasu’s Call’. Let me know which one grabs you most. Concept being ‘What if all the scary creatures of our old folklore came back in the current age’, set between Japan and the UK, my two favourite places for old stories with rich folklores I adore. I’m a sucker for mythological fantasy, especially if it touches on urban fantasy too. Currently I’m about ¼ of the way through draft one, at about 23k words so far. Loving it, and I can’t wait to share it with you all.

 

Along with that, there’s a YA high fantasy where celestial beings are forced to move from their planet to a kingdom on ‘Earth’, whatever the planet is called in this high realm! But the humans rebel to have such different creatures with unknown powers and limitations, because of course we do. We hate what we don’t understand, right? With that, our human MC gets stuck in the midst of a civil war when she (a prison guard in the kingdom’s toughest Southern prison) accidentally saves the celestial beings’ prince and ends up transferring to become one of his body guards, and now she doesn’t know who is right or wrong, with all the twists we expect and hope to find in such a story.

 

THEN, dare I say, my life became that popular meme I often think of shared by A.D., when I was struck with another base concept when I was walking home from the train station from work yesterday. But that’s SO far off being a WIP at the moment. Just a hint of a concept. It’ll mull until it’s ready.

 

And, of course then there’s the children’s fantasy picture books, which plod along at a slower pace than I’d like, but I’m pleased to share that one will be released very soon, this year, but all secrets there so far for a release surprise

 

Lots going on, and it’s exciting. I hope there’s something here that match your tastes that you can look forward to in the near-mid future. I’ll keep up those 4 am wake-ups so I can keep it all going and hope to share more with you soon.

As you can see, it's all drafting, but I like to call this year my creation year, where I can finally get down a load more of my ideas that I've had stored in my head while I mulled so much over Origin Curse and Dark Tides.

 

Let me know if you have any questions about any of the above mentioned WIPs, or if there’s anything you want to see. I’ve had requests for side stories for Dynasty Codes characters, some of them sound pretty interesting! Definitely possibilities once the main series has finished with book 3.

 

Happy reading, and book nerd again soon.

Celebrating the first birthday of Dynasty Codes: Origin Curse! (An author’s life)

I can’t believe it’s been a year since my debut fantasy novel Dynasty Codes: Origin Curse launched. A lot has happened, and the author’s life is a busy but enjoyable one.

Saturday 25th March 2023, Origin Curse was launched with a small group of friends and readers in the Avid Reader bookstore in Brisbane. It was incredible to have that moment to celebrate. Writing and publishing a book is a long process with lots of hard work, and so I fully believe giving yourself that time to celebrate the result of your hard work (an actually finished book you can hold in your hands!) is a must-do for new authors.

Since then, in the year I’ve met so many great fantasy readers at several book signing events in Dymocks stories throughout Brisbane and at the Book Fair in Sydney and had the time of my life nerding about all things bookish and fantasy. Alongside that, we’ve already gone through three print runs of Origin Curse, with a fourth in the works now.

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Even better, I was able to release book 2 of Dynasty Codes: Dark Tides in October too at the Book Fair, where I also got to spend time with two of my amazing author friends, Adam Scholte and Ned Stephenson. I recommend you check out books by both of them too!

I love the writer’s life, but it’s a lot tougher than it seems on the surface.

What's my author's life like?

Writing, for me, involves waking up most days at 4 am. Yes, 4 am. Even on weekends if I can drag myself into living the disciplined life.

Why?

I work full time, and the only time I could make for my own creative time was early in the morning before people woke up. Especially after my son was born, in 2022.

Being a full-time worker and full-time mother doesn’t leave much time, but it’s got to be done. I need to find time for my creative work, or I don’t feel healthy or thriving.

That does mean, however, it’s hard to find time for marketing or socials, so I admit you don’t see me online or pushing my work as much as an author in this day and age should do. It’s hard!

Find time to write books, or time to market. It’s a tough choice, and the reason I write is for the writing. So maybe I don’t get out there as much as I should.

Little by little though.

My advice for new writers

This life means progress is slow, but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth doing slowly than not at all.

Even if you can only start with five minutes a day, or a paragraph at a time. You’ll get better, you’ll get quicker, and some days you might even find you can power through thirty minutes or an hour.

Either way, no matter way, carve some time into your daily routine just for you and your writing. Even if it’s hiding in the car from your kids or on the bus to work or in the queue at a store.

And, I'll admit, there have been more times that I've fallen asleep at my desk on those 4 am writing sessions than I care to admit, especially during the cold winter mornings when I'm cuddled under a blanket and the mornings are dark.

It’s long, slow, but the best thing ever. And even though it’s only been a year since my first book has been out, it’s been the best year, and I’ve met the best bookish people.

The author’s life is the life for me, and I can’t wait to tell you all about the next books that will be coming your way, from the Dynasty Codes series and as standalones.

So happy first birthday, Origin Curse, and if you’ve not got a copy of your own yet, please help me celebrate its birthday by grabbing yourself a copy from Amazon or at a store near you.

Exploring Kiyohimé: Writing Fantasy Worlds with Mythology and Fantasy Creatures

One of my biggest inspirations when writing fantasy worlds is global mythology and fantasy creatures. I’ve always loved old folk tales, and one of my favourite things to do when I travel is to explore the folk tales and old stories of the country I’m visiting.

This is how book 1 of Dynasty Codes: Origin Curse was created.

When I lived and worked in Japan, I used to love visiting the old castles and historical sites, and I’d learn about the folk stories and fantasy creatures from Japan. One that stood out to me most was Kiyohimé.

Kiyohimé is one of the few powerful female creatures of Japanese myth that I’ve been able to come across so far. Like most old stories, much of it is men, and the female characters are usually side characters or romantic props. Kiyohimé’s story, while based on romance, seemed different to how women are usually spoken of in old stories. Her story is one of power and vengeance.

Summary of the story of Kiyohimé

The story is retold in many forms, the main concept being about a woman named Kiyohimé who falls in love with a young Buddhist monk named Anchin, who was travelling and staying at her parents’ ryoukan (inn).

Kiyohimé's love for Anchin is unrequited, and when he rejects her advances and tries to leave, she becomes consumed by rage and jealousy. In her anger, she transforms into a dragon and chases Anchin as he flees. Anchin tries to seek refuge in a temple bell, but Kiyohimé coils around the bell and breathe fire, melting it and killing Anchin.

The tale is often interpreted as a cautionary story about the consequences of unrequited love, jealousy, and the destructive power of emotions, with themes of transformation and the supernatural.

Kiyohimé in Dynasty Codes: Origin Curse

Hard for a fantasy author who loves powerful women in history and fantasy to not use that for inspiration. I love dragons, and I love powerful and destructive female MCs, and I just had this vision of a young girl who had these powers and didn’t know what to do with them.

Enter Yoshiko, who wanted to be the perfect ‘good’ daughter, and was peaceful and trying to be diplomatic like her mother, was energetic and open minded, and who loved the arts. Seemingly the opposite of this destructive kiyohimé power.

I saw her so clearly.

She feared her inner power and what it could do, as it went against everything she wanted to be: peaceful, diplomatic, able to win based on her values and not by burning everything down.

Trouble is, the power of kiyohimé in Dynasty Codes was something I saw as an innate familial curse or power, one that travelled through the matriarchs of her bloodline, and something very eruptive, especially based on big emotions, like in the original story Kiyohimé.

You can’t always control your emotions, and when you lash out, bad things can happen. You have to be responsible for how you react.

Dynasty Codes followed the themes of the old story of Kiyohimé, with transformation and the supernatural and themes of vengeance and the destructive power of emotions. But instead of romantic love, it became the love of her family and her people, and the desperation to help them.

Writing fantasy worlds inspired by strong female characters in history and folklore

I’m always searching through global history and mythology and folklore for strong female characters. It’s something that fascinates me the most. But, we know that history and stories are written by those in power, and men have been in power and telling the history of humanity their way for a long time.

It’s hard to find strong female characters that have a story of their own, that aren’t tied to a man’s tale or their mother or romantic character.

(If you’re reading this and have some great female stories from mythology or folklore, comment and let me know!)

Even then, global mythology and folk stories are the perfect places to hunt for inspiration.

I’ve noticed in fantasy these days we get a lot of the same characters, creatures, themes. It’s still a world largely with male stories, and the female MCs we do have all seem very similar. Hunt through the old stories to find fascinating women to guide you. I think you’ll find stories you never expected that you’ll fall in love with and that will inspire you in ways you never expected, and it’ll help us feel connected to our history, no matter where in the world it is.

Exploring Japanese mythology and becoming astounded at how few female MCs there were made me go back and check the Celtic mythology I’d been raised on. I’ve loved Celtic stories since childhood, and found there were quite a few female characters in those, like the selkies. It helped me find stories again that I loved back then, and fall in love all over again as I took a new understanding of their stories.

My next WIPs are inspired by folklore again, with two stories based on British/Celtic mythology and history and one again on Japanese. I’m so excited to share them with you.

Fantasy Writing Prompt

Do some browsing in the library or online for mythology from the place you grew up or where you’re currently living. Pick a story, character, or creature that resonates with you.

Do a little spider diagram of ways you could use it.

Then write a short piece (even if it’s just a sentence, a paragraph, or a page) based on that inspiration.

Feel free to share it with me on socials!

No Free Lunch in Writing: Navigating Book Editing and Seeking Writing Advice

Hey fellow wordsmiths! Let's talk about something real that's got to me a little recently. We all know there's no such thing as a free lunch, and the same goes for book editing and writing advice. As someone who's been on both sides of the publishing journey (as a publishing coordinator and project manager and as an author), I've noticed a surge in requests for freebies. Specifically for me to read huge chunks of story (or even the whole book!) and give writing feedback or even whole edits for free.

That's a huge no, so let's talk about the dos and don'ts of approaching professionals for book editing and writing guidance (and the same will go for any professional in any industry, I'm sure).

Acknowledge the price tag on expertise

Book editing and expert advice comes with a cost. It took years of study and training and practise to hone the editing craft, and editing a book takes a long time, so appreciate the time and skill in book professionals and understand they need compensation for the time and advice they'll be giving you.

If you do want to work with us, speak clearly about your manuscript needs

When you reach out to book professionals, be clear and honest about your manuscript's needs. Understand what goes into book editing, the different types of editing, and talk to the editor to not only find out if what you need fits their skills, but also to let them know how much work it needs.

I've had a few people just ask if I can mentor them, or something, or didn't even say what they wanted. The next thing I knew their whole manuscript was sliding into my emails with the requests to read and edit. What?

And if they say it needs more work than you thought, consider it honestly. They're not trying to disrespect you or your work. Likely they know the condition and the level of work to be put in more, due to that knowledge they have.

Respect limits in the world of writing

Editors have their schedules, and many well-sought, quality professionals are booked out weeks or months in advance. Don't expect them to drop all work just to work on something for you. Recognise the limitations and respect the boundaries. This is normal in the publishing world. Not every request can be accommodated immediately, if at all. As I said earlier, editing a book takes a long time. Respect that.

Book editing and writing advice: you get what you pay for

If you're serious about writing, be prepared to discuss compensation. No-one will work for free, and both book editing and quality writing and publishing advice come at a price. It's an investment into your literary journey, and if you don't research the editor or price well, you'll be left with something potentially subpar.

Tight budget? Where CAN you get writing help for free?

I know it's hard to start writing. And keep writing. And there are places you can get the sense of community and advice you need for free without suggesting an editor needs to drop their experience and fees just for you. This is where writing communities and groups are perfect. I'd suggest joining a Facebook group or check out X for the writing community, or even some free writing workshops at local libraries or bookstores. Share your work, chat with people, swap advice, and meet some really amazing and supportive people. That's absolutely the first step you should be taking.

And speaking frankly ...

I love the enthusiasm writers have for their projects, but honestly at the moment I'm not taking clients on the editing front, due to personal and schedule limitations. If you reach out to me, I will likely straight up say no, or hit you back with an invoice at the level I will charge. But honestly, I work full time, I have a family and want to spend as much time with my child as I can, and then I have to fit in my workout routine, personal time, and writing time around that. It's hard enough to find my own writing time, and so within that, my own book writing is my absolute priority. Even if I wanted to, fitting in other people's projects is not in my ability at the moment.