Cat Hellisen's Blog, page 23

Confusion is confusion.

I’m pretty much always working on something, so to clear up confusion:

 

House of Sand and Secrets is a sort-of sequel to When the Sea is Rising Red. That’s coming out soon(ish)

Beastkeeper is a middle grade fantasy, coming out near the end of 2014 (I believe)

Charm is an urban fantasy YA, doing revisions for my agent.

Three Dog Dreaming is an adult stand-alone fantasy – I’m 3/4 of the way through the first draft.

Ghost Song is an urban second-world fantasy YA, also about 3/4 through.

Nulled and Void is a stand-alone secondary world fantasy for adults. In revisions for my agent.

There’s another book on sub, so no talking about that.

 

Um…

 

there you have it?

 

A conversation between mages

Because I hit my goal today, and I’m 3/4 through the first draft of Three Dog Dreaming:

—

Dozha is sitting on the overhang of the roof, legs swinging gently. In the false-day he should be easy to see, but he is blurry, wavery as a daydream. He pushes off from the ledge with his arm and lands in a neat cat crouch before he stands to grin at me. “You’re looking less pathetic these days,” he says as he becomes clearer. “Sektet Am.”

I shrug. “So you know my name. Does the Underpalace also employ a network of spies?”

He laughs brightly, the sound clear in the flame-lit night. “The Underpalace is the network of spies. So far you’ve pretended – rather badly – to be a beggar musician and one-time soldier, rented an attic room from a widow who sometimes feels she ought to have designs on you, but then changes her mind because she thinks you may be mad. You have played songs never sung in the upper world of Pal-em-Rasha before, as if they were nothing more than ballads and lullabies, spoken as a prophet, and burned down a temple.” He looks to the horizon. “And possibly a good quarter of the city. My people were perhaps a little too enthusiastic about that commission.”

“Your people.”

“Come, Am. You knew that.” He leans against the wall, and crosses his left arm over his chest. He grips the upper part of his remaining right arm, and watches me. It is the first time I have looked clearly upon him, studied his features. He is handsome, I already knew that. His eyebrows are ink sweeps, his nose long and straight. In a city like this, he is a little dark for the fashion. People here try to emulate the White Prince, and women sell creams guaranteed to lighten the skin. But he is his own prince, and he has kept his own face. “You went to all the trouble of contacting me through – Laketri, so, what do you want of me?”

“How do you know her?”

“Is that what you called me for?”

I shake my head. “Of course not.” I put my hand to my belt, then hesitate. “How much would it cost for you to steal a small stone, no bigger than a beetle, from the princess Kani?”

Dozha’s face doesn’t change. “You are not the first to have asked me to steal that,” he says after a while. “And now as then, I can only say I cannot.”

“Can not – or will not? Shoom says that you wouldn’t because she’s too well-warded.” I look into his eyes, so dark that they reflect the far-away light from the fires, like black pools of water. “But you have power equal to hers, of that I’m sure. I know magic, even if Shoom does not.”

“Equal?” He raises one brow. “Is that all?”

Mages and flattery, they go together like dragons and spite. “From what little I’ve seen, maybe greater.” I shake my head. “Certainly, you are powerful, and you know the way in and out of the palace. You are a prince of thieves. One little false-princess should be no match for you.”

“How do you know she’s false?”

“Because I am not an idiot.”

He laughs once. “And you think the White Prince is?”

“Not at all.” I step closer to him, close enough to smell his skin, heady as the incense that burned in the city today, the faintest whisper of musk perfume. Under that, the fragile chalk smell of seven-petal. So the boy is an addict and a dandy. I lean my face close enough that I could tear his ear off with my teeth, or whisper lover’s secrets. “I think the Princess Kani is playing a dangerous game, but that is not my problem,” I whisper, and he shivers and pulls a little away. Not as much as I would have expected. “All I want is my soul back.”

Dozha presses his cheek to mine, and when he answers I feel the coolness of his breath like a mountain breeze against my face. “I will see what I can do.” He steps back from me, our momentary intimacy broken.

“How much will I owe you?” I am hopeful for perhaps the first time since the White Prince had me incarcerated. Even if getting my soul back means all the gods will find me, at least I will not die soulless, condemned to the black eternity of nothing.

“Oh, nothing, Master Am.” Dozha raises one hand, and shows me the full leather pouch of fives and precious stones I brought with me. “You have already paid.”

Can you do the twist….

I cut my teeth on fairy tales, I devoured them, and as I grew older, those pretty enamelled surfaces started to flake away to show the iron bones and the rusted blood underneath.

Fairy tales fascinate me. Their simplicity lends them to being ripped apart and reconstructed. They speak to us in garish images, in reds and blacks and whites, in sly winks and sharpened teeth.

 I’m certain that quite a few of you grew up on Hans Christian Andersen’s stories, or the Brothers Grimm, or will have read retellings like Marissa Meyer’s Cinder, and Jackson’ Pierce’s Sisters Red.

Some of you may have even read the wonderful and utterly disturbing collection of retellings put together by Karen Berheimer, My Mother She Killed me, My Father He Ate Me. (And if you haven’t, go read. Absolutely wonderful and disturbing.)

So why exactly am I going on about fairy tale retellings? If you’re a South African between the ages of 14 and 17, I want to see your retellings. Along with the wonderful S.A. Partridge and Byron Loker, I’ll be judging the entries for Short Story Day Africa. (All details at the link.) If you know anything about me, you know I’m all for twisty and dark, so hit me with your weird, and we’re looking forward to seeing what you put together for us.

Write an original reimagined fairy tale, myth, legend or fable and you could win fantastic fiction titles from NB Publishers for yourself and your school library. Word limit between 500 – 1200 words.

Post-Franschhoek

This weekend was Franschhoek Literary Festival, and not only was it my first time at the fest, it was also the first time in Franschhoek itself, so I spent most of the time I was there saying, “Oh my god how beautiful is this place?”

I travelled with writer S.A. Partridge, photographer Warren Talmarkes, and women24‘s resident Book Diva Tammy February, which was probably the best way I could have done this inaugural toe-dipping into the SA book world. Fabulous people.

The first thing up was Thursday’s school talks with S.A. Partridge. We spoke to the matrics at Bridge House and Franschhoek High, and I gotta say – if these guys are any indication, the future is looking bright. They were friendly, funny, and asked great questions. I can only hope we entertained them a bit (or at least gave them a break from regular class-schedules.)

Because everything looks like this – the drive into our guesthouse

After that, and way, way too many coffees, we checked into the beautiful Knorhoek wine farm in Stellenbosch, where Carol made us feel very welcome. The whole place feels like home on a grander scale – fireplaces and a wall of old cameras and a fridge full of wine. We were staying in the bed and breakfast which I believe was the converted stables and blacksmith. I don’t know how thick those old buildings’ walls were, but I can say that while it was freezing outside at night, I was a Very Warm and Snuggly Cat.

this was my room that I had all to myself, be a little jealous.

That evening we drove through to join everyone at the official welcoming meet and greet thing in the town hall, then grabbed ourselves some poppers and chicken strips from the little pub in the converted train station. This weekend was awash in wine and food, so I am pretty sure I came back about five kilograms heavier. When one of the events sponsors is Porcupine Ridge (the other was Sunday Times) and knowing what happens when you put writers and vast quantities of free wine together, the weekend certainly turned out to be interesting.

Friday was rather busy (for me – I’m used to hiding in my little house in Muizenberg and not really interacting with humans), and we decided that since I had my Very First Panel Thing happening that morning, we should start the day with a brisk walk followed by a wine tasting. (This is the problem with staying on a wine farm…)

Yes. Damn those wine tastings. I was quite content to just sample, but ended up buying more wine than I normally do. Ever. I’m not even a fan of white wine, but I pretty much adored the Knorhoek Chenin Blanc. We had a moment.

On to Franschhoek and the panel. I was a little star-struck, being on a Dystopian Fiction panel with Sarah Lotz, Karen Jayes, Lauren Beukes, and Rachel Zadok, but it seemed to go well by my understanding of these things. The venue was packed, and we soon rambled off-topic so if you were there to learn something about dystopia….hah. I have no idea what I said because I was in a state of terror, and I kept feeling like I was going to burp into the microphone (weird…fear?) but luckily the seasoned pros were there being generally awesome and articulate.

LindsayCal took this pic of all the panellists:

L-R: Sarah Lotz, Karen Jayes, Lauren Beukes, Rachel Zadok, Me.

The rest of the weekend might have devolved into me wandering around and gate-crashing parties, eating masses of ice-cream and chocolate, and having lunches with fantastic people, which is code for Having A Grand Old Time.  The only downside of the whole thing was that Anthony Horowitz unfortunately was very ill and had to be flown back to the UK, so I never go to meet him or hear any of his talks.

Look at me, hanging out with all the cool people. Amanda Coetzee, S.A. Partridge, Tammy February in the front, and me hanging on to a wine glass for support.

On the very last morning, the farm’s bull terrier Merlot came to give me a little farewell head-on-the-knee snuffle and grunt, and it was the perfect goodbye under the oak trees turning pink and gold in the crisp autumn air.

 

 

leaving

 

 

 

 

 

 

New SA Horror anthology coming soon.

On June the first, editor Nerine Dorman will bring the latest Bloody Parchment Anthology out of the dark, and indulge in her love of pulpy horror.

Bloody Parchment: The Root Cellar and Other Stories brings a fresh crop of horror and dark literature from the most recent South African HorrorFest Bloody Parchment short story competition. From dreary subterranean chambers and angelic visitations to the many-legged horrors of alien invaders and a meeting with the Devil himself, this collection of tales offers readers the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the likes of Toby Bennett (winner), and runners-up Anna Reith and Chris Limb. Finalists include Diane Awerbuck, Simon Dewar, Zane Marc Gentis, Stephen Hewitt, Benjamin Knox, Lee Mather, Glen Mehn, S.A. Partridge, and Icy Sedgwick.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a stronger anthology of horror stories this year. There’s a staggering number of original ideas and talent on display here, as well as several stand-out stories that easily hold their own against work in any genre. And most importantly, they will creep the hell out of you.” – Sarah Lotz, author

Twenty Lines

I love making lists of chapter titles; they have a weird poetry to them that makes me eager to get back to work. (In this case back to work on the final part of the revisions for House of Sand and Secrets.)

1- A Plague of Houses

2 – Bone-grinders and Butchers

3 – Glassclaw and Splinterfist

4 – Paper Marriages

5 – Studies in Oil and Ink

6 – Proposals

7 – Two Crows

8 – Pretty Collars

9 – Fire, Ash, Skin

10 – Seven-fold Futures

11 – A Small Truth

12 – The House Imaginary

13 – Silk Armour, Glass Armour

14 – Pieces in Play

15 – The Lark

16 – Pity’s Sword

17 – In the Palace of the Mata

18 – Offerings

19 – The Melancholy Raven

20 – Dogleaf

On Building a House

I don’t update this blog very often because I feel like I never have anything to say, but people do occasionally ask me for world-building posts which I never do because I’m all…uh…I dunno, it just happens.

This morning I was avoiding my actual work by mucking around with my Hobverse wiki* where I try and keep track of all the tiny pointless details of the When the Sea is Rising Red universe. Naturally, I tweeted about this because I have no life, and that prompted Dante of Doom to ask me to make him into a House.

So I did.

This is kinda an insight into how I tweak actual things to make them work in my fantasy universe. Note that this is simply how I do things, not how anyone else should, but if you see something that works for you, that’s brilliant and I’m glad.

I looked up the name Dante, and I discovered that it means firm, enduring.

First thought – tower, defence

Second thought – I can’t call the house Dante, it wouldn’t work in-universe.

Turns out Dante’s actual name was Durante, so I played with that and changed it to Derand (based on the pronunciation of Durand). House Derand is born, and I have a tower.

I tweak, I get a white tower on a blue ground. Needs something. Defence again, and magic, so I bring in a black dragon coiled on top of the tower, and since Pelimburg is where Derand would have settled, I make the bottom of the House symbol blue and white waves. So we have a tower at sea, and a dragon, and after that the motto is piss-easy. I Will Defend.

House Derand might not even make it into a Hobverse novel, but they exist and I *know* they exist, and my world-building will be richer for it.

*I use zim wiki for this and I love it.

MallenIve Inspiration

With the new Hobverse book following Felicita to MallenIve, I thought I’d start documenting some of the inspo. Whenever I think of MallenIve, I am in the city centre of Joburg (where I used to go to college before I became an art-school drop-out) and the old buildings jumbled together there.

Packed, bustling, colourful, loud, alive. Tiny broken window panes, hand-painted signs, fast-food shops elbowing old tailors. Humanity seething around grand old architectural dames. Pavement vendors selling everything from chappies (a kind of chewing gum) to plastic plates filled with onions and tomatoes to knock-off junk and socks to haircuts. A mishmash of old and new.

So that’s MallenIve: bustling, angry-fast, bright and grimy in equal measure.

There are pics of the Old Gladstone Hotel and other Joburg sights in this great flickr set here

 

busy little bee

This year is looking to be a craaaaazy year. I’ve got loads of projects to work on (and finish ) and goals to aim for.

Plus this will also be the first year I do anything more exciting than tweet at people. I’m going to be at Franschhoek Literary Festival drinking all the wine, and missioning around World Fantasy Con, meeting all the tweeps. (well, that’s the theory, since I will ditch WFC if there’s a Patrick Wolf gig, so yeah.)

I guess I better go organise some couches to crash on….

Right now I am getting stuck into a book I abandoned about a year ago; ripping it apart and glueing it back together in strange and possibly unwholsome shapes. This is turning out to be more fun than I expected because it’s a different book but tonally it will be the same, which is what I want.

I’m waiting to get stuck into the first round edits for Beastkeeper, and for the When the Sea is Rising Red sequel (currently called House of Sand and Secrets), all while dreamstorming ideas for the Dog God book.

And it’s exciting. Things are happening.

Not just for me: South African-born SFF writer Liz de Jager has joined the TorUK team, so that’s pretty cool, and many congrats to her and her contemporary YA fantasy series. Sounds like it’s going to be fun.

 

My Super Exciting News of YAY

My lovely agent sold my upper-MG novel BEASTKEEPER.

WOooh yeah, you have no idea how happy I am, it’s pretty ridiculous.

Here’s the PW announcement:

Noa Wheeler at Henry Holt has bought Beastkeeper, a middle-grade novel by Cat Hellisen. It’s a reimagining of Beauty and the Beast and what might have happened if they didn’t actually live happily ever after, set two generations later when a girl discovers that the curse is hereditary. Tentative publication date is fall 2014; Suzie Townsend at New Leaf Literary & Media sold the book at auction.

Tonight is KFC and Supernatural all the way, kids, because I know how to celebrate.