S.C. Green's Blog, page 11

Blisterfest 2017: Hiking the Rakiura Track

Happy 2018! I hope you were able to get some time relaxing with family and friends over the holiday season, and that you’re ready for a year with new challenges and adventures.

Speaking for adventures, I’ve just returned home from one of my own. My intrepid hiking buddies and I decided that for this year’s Blisterfest, we’d tackle the Rakiura Track on Stewart Island over the new year. And boy howdy, was it amazing.

If you’re not too familiar with New Zealand’s geography, our country is divided into three islands – the North Island, where the majority of the population live, the South Island, where the big sheep stations and so much of our natural wonders are located, and Stewart Island – a teeny, tiny island right down the bottom of the South Island where … not much is located.

In Maori, the island was originally called Te Punga o Te Waka a Maui (The Anchor Stone of Maui’s Canoe), because of its role in the legend of Maui who fished up New Zealand. (The South Island is his boat, and the North Island is the fish). Nowadays it’s known is Rakiura, (The great and deep blushing of Te Rakitamau) – in reference to its glorious glowing sunrises and sunsets, and also to the Aurora Australis that can be seen from the island at the right time of year.

Maori have lived on the island since the 13th century AD, where they subsisted on fish and the titi (muttonbird). In the 19th century, seafarers began to come to the island and set up mines, fishing stations, boatbuilding, and sawmills to fell the bountiful trees. In the 1920s, the Rosshavet whaling expedition arrived from Norway, and added their Norwegian genes to the already intermingled population of the island. It wasn’t until 2002 that the Rakiura National Park was established on Stewart Island, helping to protect its natural beauty.

Nowadays, only 390 people live on Stewart Island permanently, and contribute to an economy of fishing, tourism, aquaculture, conversation. Thousands more visit every year as tourists, and many of them – like us – choose to hike the Rakiura Track.

Herein follows an account of our adventures:

Day 0

Myself, John, Sam and Iris arrived from Auckland via invercargill on the 28th December, with designs on hiking the Rakiura Track, one of New Zealand’s “Great Walks” of natural beauty and significance. The three-day hike would take us 32 km around the coast and across the island.

After a fun-filled ferry ride across Cook Strait (like a roller coaster but on water, and apparently it was a calm day!) we arrived in Oban – the single remaining township on the island. A three-minute walk through the thriving metropolis of Oban led us directly to Stewart Island Backpackers, our home for the night.

Oban

We went down to the Kai Kart – a food truck selling fish and chips, including Stewart Island blue cod caught that day. They looked as though they were struggling with the ten or so people milling around waiting for orders, which was confirmed to us as, two hours later, we finally received our last order (which had been forgotten). Food was delicious but it certainly was a lesson about the slower pace of life on the island.

Down to the local pub – South Seas – for a drink ($6 handles! $7 cider! Unheard of!) and then to bed, because the next day we’d begin the hike!

Day 1

Our fifth party member – Andy – wouldn’t arrive until 1:30PM, so we had some time to kill on the island. We started the day with coffee at the local cafe, where we proceeded to sound like pretentious Aucklanders with our drink orders before sitting down in a shack-like building to enjoy probably the most delicious toasted sandwich I’ve ever had. Seriously, if you’re on the island, I can definitely recommend the basil pesto, tomato, and cheese.

We picked up our hut tickets and gas cannisters (no stoves in the huts), and checked out of the hostel. With a few hours still to wait, we hiked up to the Stewart Island cemetery, and read off the epitaphs of the graves overlooking a picturesque bay. Not surprisingly, a significant number of people had died at sea.

After that, we went down to Bathing Bay for a swim. Well, I swam, everyone else looked on. How could you NOT swim when the beach looks like this? #nofilter #nosharks

Freshly swum out, with salt clinging to my skin, I hiked back with the others into Oban to pick up Andy. Hugs all round as though we’d been reunited after five years apart instead of the three weeks since our annual metal Christmas party. I love my friends so hard.

Then it was back to the hostel to pick up our packs, hop into our transfer to head to the start of the track at Lee Bay, and we were away!

Look how clean and fresh-faced we look!

As we drove the 5km out to the entrance to the National Park, our driver, a so-called “local legend”, regaled us with tales about island life, which was mostly about how all his friends owned helicopters.

By this point it was mid-afternoon, and the sun was beating down hard. We passed through the chain link sculpture at Lee Bay (the chain stretches out into the ocean, and there’s an identical sculpture in Bluff, making sure Stewart Island doesn’t float away), then followed the track along the coast to the Little River, which is crossed by a little bridge (no trolls so far).

From there the track headed around Peter’s Point and on to Maori Beach. From here, we followed a small track leading to a rusting steam boiler – a relic from the sawmilling days. This was our late-lunch spot. I was very happy because #ruins.

The Rakiura description mentions a “small” climb to reach the first hut, Port William. The amount of complaining about aching calves suggests that this might have been an oversight.

Not surprisingly given our late start, we were one of the last groups to arrive. Weirdly, there were people in the sleeping area trying to sleep while we were sorting our beds. We tried to be quiet, but, well … sorry people trying to sleep. Not sure why you thought that’d work at 5PM in the evening, though.

Port William hut overlooked a small beach. We went down for a paddle, but the water was that kind of freezing that you’d expect from an island that’s a little too close to Antarctica for comfort. Only Andy managed to get more than her knees under water, a fact for which she chastised us for the rest of the evening.

Post swim drinks and giggles were had. I discovered I left my much-anticipated Whittaker’s Peanut Slabs back at the hostel, which was my main object of complaint for the rest of the hike. (Hills don’t bother me, but missing out on chocolate? I’m crying). After a dinner of chicken italiano and exploded mashed potatoes (quite an epic splatter), we played cards for a bit and then went to sleep. John snored (thanks John), and so did a few other people (I hate you), but I managed a few hours of sleep.

Day 2

Today was the day most in our group were dreading; 6 hours estimated walking time, 13km rising up to the highest point on the trail. All our research had suggested that we’d be up past our knees in mud and it would be boring and miserable.

There was a bit of mud, but boring and miserable it was not. (Well, maybe I should speak for myself). The track began with a half hour backtrack to Maori Beach, which feels a bit sucky when lugging a 15kg pack around. From there, we passed through a variety of vegetation including previously milled and virgin podocarp forest. There are old cuttings from the tramlines that used to crisscross the forest to aid the removal of sawn timbers. It’s not quite the same as Incan ruins, but I do love seeing the human history on the island.

The forest is something out of Jurassic Park. It feels very primal and wild. We even found a beautiful swimming spot on the way (although only Andy was brave enough to go in).

Beautiful inlet/beach just a couple of minutes from the hut.

We arrived at the hut much earlier, with plenty of time to drink the rest of our wine and scotch, cook dinner together (no exploding potatoes tonight – Andy crumbled parmesan into them and they were actually quite delicious), and play a raucous and ridiculous game of cheat that I somehow won, despite hardly cheating at all (except of the stack of cards I hid under my ass when everyone looked away). I’m not sure the elderly group of clearly Christian hikers (reading their bibles around their own table) were terribly amused to be sharing the cabin with some loud metalheads, but them’s the breaks.

We went for a kiwi hunt at midnight, but with a possum hanging around the campsite, we were unlikely to see any. It was still a lovely walk in the moonlight.

Day 3: New Years Eve

Today was a short three-hour hike to get out of the forest and reach the exit of Rakiura National Park at the Fern Gully car park. The track winds through rimu and kamahi forest, and passes the sheltered bays of Kidney Fern Arm and Kaipipi Bay, where two sawmills operated in the 1860s, employing hundreds of people.

We even got a bit of rain!

But once we arrived at Fern Gully, we weren’t out of the woods yet. Well, we were. But we weren’t done with the hiking. We had to hike an additional 2km back to Oban. I have been wearing the same clothes for three days. It has been warm. I do not smell nice, even by hiking standards.

We don’t look that different to the “start” photo, but boy howdy are you lucky photographs don’t capture smell.

Our first task upon returning was showers. Let me tell you, I have never smelt more delicious. I debated burning my clothes in a ritual fire to appease the hiking gods, but hiking gear is expensive.

Once we were all presentable again, we headed back to the Kai Kart, which seemed to have acquired a different chef who was a lot more speedy. In the time it took Sam, Iris and I to return from the general store with beer and cider, we had our fish and chips – the most delicious fish and chips of my life, hard-earned and perfectly cooked.

Our friend Olya arrived on the 4:30PM flight, and from then on we drank whisky and regaled her with tales of busted toes and exploded potatoes, until it was time to head to the pub for our celebratory dinner.

Olya arrived, and she brought scotch! Bless you, Olya.

I shared a starter of Stewart Island salmon 3-ways, and had a main of baked salmon on a bed of vegetables, and polished it off with several pints of cider ($7 cider! How is that even possible?) For dessert I had one of the Peanut Slab’s I’d been whining about missing for three days, and it was glorious.

The New Years Eve celebrations got underway in earnest. We took another trip to Bathing Bay for shenanigans, and returned to Oban in time to find a place beside the roaring bonfire (and debate the hotness levels of the guys responsible to stoking it).

Shenanigans

A covers band started up at the pub, and locals and visitors descended from the homes and guesthouses around Oban to congregate on the beach.

Burning witches

New Years public parties in New Zealand can be prime examples of cesspools of humanity, but the vibe on Stewart Island was just right. There weren’t so many people that it felt unsafe or tense, and everyone seemed to be in a jovial, party mood. At midnight, we all counted down together (two minutes early!) and then the fishing boats let off their expired flares in a mighty fireworks display. A bright, bold supermoon shone down over us – a blue lantern overlooking the festivities.

Day 4

The next day we said goodbye to Andrea and Iris, and the rest of us walked out to the lighthouse at Ackers Point. A beautiful walk that I would definitely recommend, even if the lighthouse was a bit of a let-down (it wasn’t actually a house. Boo.) Along the way, there is a historic stone cottage that’s one of the oldest buildings in New Zealand, built in 1835 by Lewis Acker.

Then it was back to the mainland by teeny tiny plane (my absolute favourite thing) and on to my next adventure (which you will hear about in another post.)

So that was a brilliant way to say goodbye to the challenges of 2017 and hello to sweet, blissful dreams-come-true of 2018. Stewart Island, we loved you! I know I will definitely return.

If you’re visiting Stewart Island, I recommend:

Taking a flight from Invercargill.
Staying at the Stewart Island Backpackers.
Eating at the Kai Kart, the cafe (try the toasted sandwiches), and the South Seas pub (did I mention the $7 cider?)
Exploring the various walking tracks around Oban.
Going for a swim in Bathing Bay (but check for sharks first).
Taking some awesome friends with you and spending a few days to really enjoy a different pace of live.
Bringing lots of whisky.

Fuck me. It’s 2018 already.

So 2017 happened. It was a mess of crazy international politics and Simpsons predictions coming true.

Lots of good stuff actually happened, and that’s really important to focus on. It’s easy to get caught up in the negative stuff, but actually, the human race made great strides towards being even more awesome: The Women’s March in Washington DC drew three times as many people as Trump’s inauguration. The “caliphate” of the Islamic State was defeated and destroyed. Roy Moore lost. Australia legalised gay marriage. Women in Saudi Arabia will be allowed to drive. The new Beast in Black album came out and basically made life more bearable. (The Washington Post and Noisey has some more good stuff)

For me personally, 2018 was the busiest and most demanding year of my life in terms of work and writing and life projects. As you might’ve been able to tell by the amount I’ve blogged (or haven’t blogged) this year, shit’s been crazy. I’ve spent almost half my weekends last year (21 out of 56) with at least one night away from home. I’ve worked 60-80 hours most weeks including most of my free weekends since March. We scrimped and saved to pull together the money we needed to finish our house (still not quite finished, but achingly close).

By the time I had my last day at work for the year, I was officially burnt out. I haven’t been this burnt out in a long, long time. It’s a horrible feeling, like your brain is made of rubber. I keep forgetting things and dates and appointments and crying randomly and mixing words up and forgetting what I’m talking about halfway through a sentence, and stupid things like noticing a typo in a published article make me feel like a tremendous failure. I’m tired all the time. I’ve been insensitive and haven’t been there for people I care about the way I should.

But no more! That’s enough of that. I’ve just had a long break away from the computer and it’s been so, so beautiful. The photo at the top of this picture is me on Stewart Island over new years with my wonderful friends – and is one of my happiest moments from last year, which says a lot, really.

I’m making some changes at work (more on that in a month or so), and in my life. Last year I started with a big list of goals and – although I achieved most of them and that’s great – the idea of staring at a giant to-do list all year makes me feel tired.

I decided instead that for 2018 I’d create “themes.” I have three themes for 2017: “novels”, “health”, and “home”. Basically, the first one is the thing I want to do for the rest of my life, and the other two are things I badly neglected last year as I struggled to balance all the other shite. I intend to run everything in my life through those filters and make some changes and say no to the stuff that doesn’t fit with them.

And I want to blog more. I miss blogging 2-3 times a week like I used to back in the good old days of 2009 (yee gods, is this blog really eight years old?). Blogging these days is so regimented. It’s so IMPORTANT to have great content that I feel as though if I don’t have something really profound to say – and the time to write a full, polished article about it – then I shouldn’t do it. It’s all so polished so I have to be polished, too. And actually that’s not true. I’d love to get back to blogging just to talk about cool stuff I find or – like this piece – to say nothing really at all.

So I’m going to try a bit of that, and we’ll see how we go.

What about you? What are your plans for 2018?

Wedding the Wolf launches today!

A new haircut. A new name. A new start as Crookshollow’s premier wedding planner.

Read on Kindle | Nook | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

I, Willow Summers, am finally free from my mother’s oppressive home. No one in Crookshollow knows who I am or where I came from, and I intend to keep it that way. As long as I plaster a smile on my face and pull off perfect weddings for my clients, no one ever has to know that I’m broken.

That is, until Irvine Baird gets his claws into me.

The smoking hot, ten thousand miles out of my league Scottish hottie wants me, the good girl v*rgin with the dark past.

No one’s ever wanted me before.

There’s only one problem: he’s a werewolf.

The last time I met a werewolf, I lost my leg.

I should be running a mile from Irvine. Instead, I keep falling into his arms. He makes me uncomfortable. He sets my body on fire. He makes me want to spill my deepest, darkest secrets.

Irvine terrifies me. But whenever we touch, sparks fly. There’s an ache inside me that only he can satisfy.

I know I can’t have a happily ever after. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun together. The old me would never have tried a casual fling, but the new Willow can totally handle it. Right?

Right?

Wedding bells are ringing for some of your favourite characters in Crookshollow, but Irvine Baird has his sights on the one lass he can never have. Find out who gets their happily ever after in the thrilling finale of USA Today bestselling author Steffanie Holmes’ popular Wolves of Crookshollow series.

If you like hot Scottish werewolves (in kilts), smokin’ chemistry, and a broken heroine discovering her own power, then this book will have you howling for more.

***

I’m so excited that Wedding the Wolf – the fourth and final book in the Wolves of Crookshollow series – out in the world. If you read my romance books, I think you’ll be so excited to read about the happy endings for your favourite characters, as well as see how Willow and Irvine’s story plays out.

I’ve had SO MUCH FUN creating the world of Crookshollow. But after ten books, it’s time to move on to something new. I’ve got an exciting new series (Slavic vampires, woo!) planned for next year, as well as the long-awaited conclusion to the Witches of the Woods series.

But never say never – I have a feeling this isn’t the last you’ll hear from the Crookshollow crew.

I hope you enjoy Wedding the Wolf. And as a special bonus treat, I’ve written up a bonus short story you can read here. But you’ll have to read Wedding the Wolf first!

 

I won the Attitude Award for Artistic Achievement!

You guys, I can’t believe it.

This year was my second year as a finalist in the Attitude Awards, which recognise achievement by people living with disabilities. They’re administered by the Attitude Trust, which produces an amazing TV programme as well as other content celebrating the lives of people with disabilities. Individual awards are sponsored by prominent kiwi businesses and non-profits.

Most of you probably know I have an eye condition called achromotopsia, which means I’m completely colour blind, severely short sighted, and am considered legally blind. I never really openly identify as a person with a disability, but this condition is part of me and it has shaped many of the experiences and decisions in my life.

It was such an honour to be nominated and made a finalist two years in a row. The Trust put on an amazing gala dinner where they treat us finalists like red carpet celebrities (my husband and I were put up in the Hilton for the night, overlooking the waterfront). It’s so amazing to go along and hear the stories of the other contestants.

These people are so cool. The stuff they do and the good they spread in the world is awesome, and the hurdles they’ve had to overcome make their achievements even more remarkable. It was such an honour to be among them.

We got all dolled up (yes, that’s my husband in a suit for the third time in our nine years of marriage) and went along to enjoy all the fantastic food and drink and amazing stories. The other lass in the picture is our friend Chrissy, who works for the organisation Manawanui in Charge, who sponsor the Artistic Achievement award.

Before I knew it, it got to my award and they called out my name!

I went up on stage and everyone clapped and I gave a little Oscar acceptance speech and tried not to fall over.

You can watch the awards here. My segment starts about 30mins in. They cut out a great bit of my speech where I thanked my “brothers and sisters of metal” but the reference is probably a bit out of place on national TV.

I’m still reeling from the whole experience. Writing is such a solitary practice. It’s easy to forget that on the other side of the computer is a big wide world where people are reading and reacting and talking about you. You have no idea how insanely happy it makes me to know that my books have a positive impact on the world in some small way.

Thank you – thank you to the Attitude Trust and all the sponsors for these incredible awards, to my family and friends for the support and inspiration, to all the readers and mentors and fans who cheer me on.

I do it for you.

Here’s a picture of my pretty award, with Socrates for scale:

When I’m not giving speeches or forgetting to update my blog, I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Join my VIP Reader’s Group to stay up-to-date with all my series, and get FREE books.

Linking Horn: Halloween treats, diversity in fantasy fiction, and I’m a finalist in the Attitude Awards (again)!

This is Lord Nelson the Cat. He would like you to admire the beautiful tile backsplash he helped instal last weekend.

I am off hiking! Here are some interesting links from around the internet, including some stuff about yours truly.

First of all, I wrote a piece for The Spinoff, which is a local NZ publication that does some seriously great journalism. It’s called the magical erasure of disabled characters in fantasy fiction, and is about something I’m quite passionate about – diversity and representation in fiction.

Also, I might have mentioned this, but I’m a finalist again this year for the Attitude Awards, in the artistic achievement category. They made this snappy video that was on TV this week. And I’m heading off to the gala award dinner on Thursday night. Thank you so much for nominating me and for the Attitude Trust for putting on such an awesome award programme!

S. Elizabeth from my favourite blog, Haute Macabre, reviewed a horror film or horror media every day in October. There are some awesome recommendations here!

I backed this Kickstarter for the Necronomnomnom – A Cookbook of Eldritch Horror. You should, too.

Wee article on The Big Idea about Steampunk in Oamaru, New Zealand. I’m so excited to be visiting Oamaru in Jan this year.

Loud wire posted the 50 most influential metal bands of the 21st century. Agree or disagree?

Robot “who wants to destroy humans” granted citizenship in Saudi Arabia. So that’s a thing.

The Oatmeal on Making things for the internet.

A roundup of Neil Patrick Harris’ family Halloween costumes, because … :)

Jerks and the Start-Ups they ruin.

10 Classic Gothic Novels Everyone Should Read. I’ve done eight. What about you? Also, the authors’ own book sounds pretty interesting.

Legitimately terrifying horror stories written by an AI.

I love Whores of Yore – a twitter account that is “a catalogue of jilts, cracks, prostitutes, nightwalkers, whores, she-friends, kind women & others of the linnen-lifting tribe.

Yes, you can buy a hipster nativity set.

Post-Halloween playlist from No Clean Singing.

 

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder

Today, I’m talking about one of my favourite alcoholic beverages – the elusive and mystical absinthe.

I first came across absinthe in high school. I was working on a school assignment for history class where we had to choose a movie based on an historical event, and analyse the film for factual accuracy. Being me, I chose From Hell, the 2001 film about the Jack the Ripper murders and the so-called “Royal Conspiracy” theory. (It’s based on a graphic novel of the same name by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell).

The very first sequence is a dreamy portrayal of Johnny Depp slumped in an opium den, pouring himself a glass of absinthe, adding a few drops of laudanum, placing a sugar cube on top, lighting the drink on fire, then dropping the sugar into the drink and stirring it until the flame goes out and he can drink it.

Here he is!

(As you’ll learn, this is totally and completely wrong on so many levels, but I didn’t know that at the time).

Later, in university, I had a phase of about six months where I was beyond obsessed with Vincent Van Gogh, and shortly thereafter, with the writings of Oscar Wilde. Both were absinthe drinkers, and their antics helped to fuel the drink’s association with insanity, danger, and seduction. I was in love with the idea of it, and I hadn’t even had a glass for myself yet.

I had my first taste of absinthe at some party in my hometown, in the form of a shot from a bottle of cheap “Green Fairy” that I know now could no more be called absinthe than Limp Bizkit could be called metal. Nevertheless, I wasn’t impressed. Where was the beautiful ritual? Where were the hallucinogenic effects my favourite writers and artists had waxed lyrical about?

I put the idea of absinthe on the shelf until a few years ago, when my husband asked what I wanted to my birthday and, on a whim, I said I wanted a bottle of absinthe, a traditional glass, and a spoon. We purchased some online, and I became instantly hooked.

Not only do I enjoy absinthe regularly, but so do many of the characters in my books. Aisling and Niall share a few glasses in Hollow, and Bianca drinks a lot of it in Inking the Wolf.

All about Absinthe

Absinthe is an alcoholic drink made from distilled herbs or herbal extracts. It’s named after the primary herb used to make it, called wormwood (Artemisia absinthium). The other important flavour in absinthe is green anise. Most absinthes will also include the herbs petite wormwood, hyssop, and fennel.

The drink originated in France, funnily enough, in the region near where wormwood was cultivated – near Pontarlier, in eastern France. Many historical absinthes also came from the nearby Val de Travers region of Switzerland.

I de Brevans in his 1908 La Fabrication des Liqueurs details the method of making absinthe:

The raw ingredients are placed into a steam-heated still, …with the desired quantity of alcohol and half the volume of water needed for distillation; the plants are allowed to macerate 12 to 24 hours or even longer; the rest of the water is added and distillation is started. …This operation is stopped

as soon as the first spurt of distillate marks 60% (alcohol): rectification is thereby avoided.

The first part of the tails is collected separately and used to make absinthes ordinaire; only the heart is used to prepare fine absinthes. The milky liquid which distills at the end is added to subsequent macerations.

Absinthe scented-spirit is colorless. To color it, a mixture of petite wormwood and hyssop is macerated; a colorator, a special apparatus heated by steam or hot water circulation, is useful for this purpose; the process takes 12 hours.

Absinthe is put into barrels for aging, then reduced to desired proof before delivering for consumption.

Different distilleries experiment with other herbs, such as dittany, marjoram, peppermint, or lemon balm. It is usually between 55-70% alcohol, with a traditiona French absinthe declared to be 68%.

The Absinthe “ritual”

Absinthe was the drink of 19th-century Paris, where artists, writers, intellectuals and other men-about-town would gather in the salons of the Belle Époque and quaff back pints of the stuff. The mysterious ritual of absinthe drinking and the exaggerations about its side-effects fueled the decadence and glamour of the era.

If someone tries to give you a shot of absinthe, you should refuse. Well, unless you’re too far gone to care, of course :)

As far as historians know, absinthe has never been consumed neat. In the French tradition, absinthe is consumed in a ritual manner. First, a perforated spoon is placed on top of the absinthe glass. Then, a measure of absinthe is poured into the glass. Next, you place a sugar cube on top of the spoon, (he wormwood makes absinthe bitter, hence the introduction of the sugar cube.) and slowly pour ice water over the sugar cube. The cube slowly melts and the water and sugar mix with the alcohol, creating la louche – where the green absinthe “louches” into a creamy white colour as the essential oils are drawn out.

This is how I drink my absinthe. Some people drink their absinthe without sugar, or by mixing it with white wine or cognac, but that’s definitely not the norm.

Here’s a video that shows the ritual with an absinthe fountain to dispense the water.

There’s another ritual that is performed today, the so-called Bohemian ritual. It’s pretty commonly known among European backpackers who get off their faces in Prague. Despite what you’re told while on your Contiki tour, it’s not an historical ritual, and was basically invented in the 80s to entice tourists with a unique and “ancient” sounding alcoholic tradition by Czech distillers who wanted to compete with flaming sambuca and other trends.

In “the Bohemian Ritual” (air quotes required), a shot of absinthe is poured, then a teaspoon of sugar is dipped in. You then set the alcohol-soaked sugar alight and burn it until it caramelises, then you dunk the spoon into the absinthe. This usually makes the drink light up itself. You then pour in some ice water to quell the flames, and down it goes.

The Green Fairy

Part of absinthe’s mystique goes back to its reputation for producing hallucinations and making its drinkers go slowly insane. It’s been known throughout history as “the green fairy” because it plays tricks on your mind.

This reputation was so prevalent that for a time, absinthe was banned in the US and many parts of Europe.

But how much of absinthe’s reputation is actually true?

First of all, absinthe has a strong alcohol content, so anyone drinking it is going to get way more fucked up, way faster than drinking anything else. Many of the so-called effects of absinthe can be chased back to the fact that the drinker was off his or her face.

The wormwood used to make absinthe contains an active ingredient called thujone. This active ingredient has been used for centuries by doctors as a stimulant, antiseptic, and remedy for fevers and cramps. You’ll actually find wormwood oil in Vick Vaporub. It’s this ingredient that is thought to give absinthe its hallucinogenic effects.

Too much thujone is dangerous. It’s caused seizures in lab rats at high levels (which is a bit disgusting, but that’s a whole different topic). However, what you get in absinthe is only a teeny tiny fraction of this, and the research suggests it shouldn’t even be enough to get any effect at all.

Some scientists now believe that the effects of absinthe actually don’t relate to thujone at all, but to the active ingredients in some of the other herbs.

When I drink absinthe, I feel very relaxed, and there’s perhaps a tiny amount of “numbness” or removal – the slight sensation of looking over one’s shoulder into the world. But it’s hard to say if that’s because of the green fairy or because I usually drink if after dinner when socialising with friends and feeling relaxed and warm.

There are a lot of absinthes on the market that boast high levels of thujone or promise a dizzying high. This is all marketing hype – what you’re buying is likely a poor-quality absinthe made from herbal essences instead of real herbs, and a bunch of marketing hype.

Green fairy aside, absinthe is delicious, and you should definitely try it!

Buying Absinthe

I get all my absinthe from an online store called Alandia. This is a German store, but even though the German’s don’t have a good reputation for absinthe (they tend to follow the Bohemian Ritual), trust me when I say these guys are legit.

They do their own branded absinthes made in the French tradition, as well as offering a pretty outstanding selection of absinthes from distilleries around the world.

My favourite is this Alandia Moulin Vert, which is distilled in France and has a really rich, complex herbal taste. Also, the label is so pretty! I recently got a bottle of the République Vintage, which is distilled based on a 19th century French recipe, and is more of a fresh, hearty flavour. And again, it has a super pretty label.

(Because I’m me, I tend to choose the absinthes I want to try based largely on how pretty the label is).

You can also get all the accessories you need to complete your absinthe ritual. All my glasses, spoons, and sugar cubes come from here. My next purchase will be a fountain to sit on the desk in my library. Alandia have awesome accessories sets.

In conclusion, absinthe is awesome, and you should give it a go. But make sure you do it right with a proper French louche before you decide whether you’re a fan or not. Come to my place, we’ll have a glass and shoot the breeze together.

(I tried to find a great metal song about absinthe, but this was the only one I knew. It’s the only CoF song I really liked).

More absinthe info

There’s an AWESOME absinthe FAQ on Absinthe Classics that has a great section all about the influence of absinthe on creatives like Van Gogh and Hemingway.

Everything You Know About Absinthe Is Wrong, from Salon.

A great article from the BBC on How Absinthe Became Literature’s Drink.

You can buy absinthe and accessories from Alandia.

When I’m not chasing the Green Fairy or forgetting to update my blog, I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Join my VIP Reader’s Group to stay up-to-date with all my series, and get FREE books.

Post-scriptum: filthy hobbitses, tales of handmaids, and the beauty of a good night’s sleep

Look where I went last weekend! This is my third visit to Hobbiton (the first was full of shenanigans, and you can read all about it), and I was lucky enough to be the officiant for a beautiful wedding for a couple of seriously cool people. My friend Jess was my chauffeur for the weekend, and we had an awesome road-trip filled with excellent food, Jeff Wayne’s Musical War of the Worlds, Southfarthing cider, and a gloriously blissful early night’s sleep on incredibly comfortable beds courtesy of our AirBNB hosts.

Hobbiton is a pretty magical place. Rarely do I watch a movie and feel as though it captures the vision of what I see in my head when I read. But the movie Hobbiton really does, and LoTR are so beloved to me that it feels very intimate and personal, even though it very obviously isn’t. I feel very … at home there. And the cider definitely helps.

Sometimes, I feel like my life is part of a fairy tale #blessed.

Enough of that. On with the things!

In my ears: I’ve been thrashing this playlist from the series Longmire. Omigod, so much good southern rock and blues and just damn good stuff. When I feel like metal, I pretty much haven’t turned off Opeth and Flreshgod Apocalypse all year, but I’ve been listening to a lot of hip hop recently alongside this playlist. (I know, I know, don’t shoot me).

Reading: I’m currently reading three books at the same time. (Why? I don’t know. My attention span is gnat-like at the moment). 1. The entire Bloodlines series by Richelle Mead – SO GOOD (the Slavic roots for her mythology made me pick up Vampire Academy a few months ago, and now I am ADDICTED. 2. October, China Meiville’s history of the Russian Revolution. EVEN BETTER. Mad, by Chloe Esposito, about an evil twin who … well, is horrifically evil. This book is so crazy and wacky and filled with despicable characters you can’t help but love.

Writing: I am currently finishing the final Wolves of Crookshollow book, Wedding the Wolf. I am enjoying it but at the same time, I just want it done, because the first book in a brand new vampire series is also nearly complete and it is calling to me. AND the final Wraith book. I need to finish that. So many projects, so little free time.

Watching: I’ve finished watching The Handmaid’s Tale, which I adore, for obvious reasons. May write more about it later. I’ve also recently finished Harlots (OMG, watch this, it’s so good), Annie with an E (cried from beginning to end), and The Defenders (only good because Jessica Jones and Luke Cage were in it). Oh, and this old British comedy called Yes Minister that is quite hilarious. I’ve been hiding from the world a bit lately and indulging in a lot of TV. Sometimes you just need it, you know?

On the farm: We are still painting the interior of the Great Hall. Well, CDH is painting, I am frantically doing freelance work to pay for the paint. We are going to be finished with nearly everything by Christmas, and then I will finally take some nice pictures and show you all what we’ve been doing.

I am currently designing some bookshelves for my office that I’m getting made next year. I cannot tell you how excited I am. My office/library is the first room I’m going to complete the interior design on. I have so many ideas. SO MANY.

My freeloading chickens have finally started laying eggs again. They stopped laying eggs for four months. Or they’ve been laying eggs where I can’t find them. Either way, they’re bastards. But now they’re behaving, so I’m not making chicken soup.

Loving: Thinking up crazy schemes and art projects and actually maybe making them happen \m/ applying for ALL THE THINGS \m/ Feeling as though I might be writing the book that will make my career \m/ perfecting my lemon meringue pie recipe \m/ having neighbours over for lunch \m/ planning for all the travelling I’m doing over the next six months (currently leaving the city seven times in total … yikes) \m/ going to Hobbiton \m/ checking my email every day in the hopes a publisher has contacted me \m/ Corner Burger in Mt. Eden \m/ Seeing all my cats snuggling in the same room (we even had all four of them sleeping on the bed last night for the first time ever. Hooray for progress). \m/ Seriously epic plans for next year \m/ Waiting 25 minutes to get a free burger … actually, I didn’t love that, as the burger was nice but not worth 25 minutes wait, BUT I did learn some very interesting things about what people do for hobbies (religiously follow their favourite restaurants on FB and memorise the menus and travel all over the country just to try their new menus) from people in the line. \m/ Jeff Wayn’s Musical War of the Worlds. I am addicted. \m/ volunteering at The Voice of Our Soul event on 19th October – if you’re in Auckland you should totally come along to support it. \m/ Going to a toga party next week! \m/

That’s my week. What about yours?

When I’m not going on Hobbity adventures and forgetting to update my blog, I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Join my VIP Reader’s Group to stay up-to-date with all my series, and get FREE books.

A Very Victorian Day Out: Investigating Victorian Homes in Auckland

While writing Inking the Wolf (which is now available on Kindle, Nook, iBooks and Google Play – Kobo coming soon!), I decided I needed to learn a little more about the layouts of Victorian homes. I wanted to make Bianca’s home – Primrose House – feel very real, and that meant ensuring I had all the period details correct.

I was trawling through books on Amazon, looking for a decent resource, when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t need a book – I could visit some homes in the flesh.

Here in Auckland, the Heritage NZ manages some historical buildings, among them two prime examples of fancy Victorian homes. Alberton House, built in 1863 as a farmhouse for Allen Kerr Taylor. As his fortunes grew, he enlarged the house to an 18-room mansion, with an Indian theme inspired by the home of his birth. He lived there with his second wife, Sophia, who was a suffragette, and their 10 children. Alberton was famous for grand balls and garden parties, and it staying in the family until 1972, when it was gifted to public. And Highwic House, a rambling mansion built in 1862 for the early colonial Alfred Buckland, who fathered 21 children. The house is built in the American Gothic Carpenter style.

With my awesome friends Amy and Iris in tow, we set off on a Very Victorian Day Out to tour the homes.

Our first stop was Alberton House. When we arrived, we were the only visitors, so we chatted with the docent about the home’s history and the family that had built it. All three of us had visited Alberton before, for a friend’s amazing gothic wedding a few years previously (the docent even remembered it) and Amy has also done photo shoots in the house for her bridal couture company, Northwic. Still, it was great to wander around again.

My amazing friends Tim & Tarah getting married (by me!) on the steps of Alberton House. 

I love standing in the ballroom and imagining what it must’ve been like to attend dances there. How much fun to swirl around the floor with your beloved? I used this room as inspiration for Bianca and Robbie’s wedding (both of them).

I want to go to a ball with these ladies. Alternative wedding dresses by my friend Amy of Northwic.

Amy has found herself a wee corner.

By far my favourite part of the house was the attic bedrooms where the maids and staff would sleep. These three tiny bedrooms . Anyone who’s read Inking the Wolf will recognise Hattie’s bedroom …

After Alberton, we made our way over to Highwic House, which is built in a later Carpenter Gothic style, borrowing heavily from American homes of the time. You can tell it’s later Victorian because the decor is a bit lighter and airier – not so many heavy patterns on the wall paper and carpet – and because of the gabled arches and Gothic detailing.

I learned that the layout of the dining room to the left of the entrance hall and the ladies’ drawing room to the right was typical of the period, so this is what you’ll see in Bianca’s house. I hate hallways in homes, so I often forget about them when I write, but Victorians just loved their big, grand hallways, so I made sure to add them in. Kitchens were toward the back of the house, and in the case of Highwic, even sort of “outside”, to separate the servants from the family and be near the cool stores where milk and meat would be kept.

Our guide at Highwic was a bit taken by my story of writing about Victorian homes, and of Amy’s love of Victorian costuming, so he gave us an impromptu behind-the-scenes tour. We got to enter some of the bedrooms, touch some of the beautiful clothing, and even see where the children had scratched their names into the glass windows!

 We finished our day with lunch at Sip Kitchen in Newmarket (and a sneaky lemon cake from Little and Friday in the car on the way home).

If you’re in Auckland, I definitely recommend a visit to both Alberton and Highwic houses. Try to go when they have special events on, like high teas or market days. And don’t forget to pick up your copy of Inking the Wolf! (which is now available on Kindle, Nook, iBooks and Google Play)

When I’m not exploring beautiful Victorian houses and forgetting to update my blog, I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Join my VIP Reader’s Group to stay up-to-date with all my series, and get FREE books.

Fleshgod Apocalypse came to NZ, and it was … wow

Fleshgod Apocalypse played in Auckland the other week. I went along, because I’ve been listening to these guys since Oracles came out and pretty much never thought I’d get to see them in my country. If you didn’t go, then – and I mean this in the nicest possible way – you are a Fool.

(See what I did there?)

Fleshgod Apocalypse’s breed of cacophonous death / black metal mixed with Wagner-esque opera have won them a dedicated fanbase over the years, especially following the release of their previous album, Labyrinth. Critics of the band’s studio releases point mainly to mediocre production on their records not allowing the music (and particularly, the orchestral elements) to shine. Despite this, I’ve never ever heard a bad word spoken about their live shows. Now I know why.

The lights go down. Smoke fills the stage. An ominious note strikes. A woman floats to the centre, wearing a long opera dress, a feathered mask, and carrying a tall staff upon which rests some kind of totem. She thumps the staff on the stage in time with the music, and soon, we’re all thrusting our fists in the air – a tribe called up into a frenzy. She takes the microphone, her voice filling the room.

It’s Veronica Bordacchini, and her voice rises into a crescendo – those melodious, classical notes tearing through the crowd, drawing us in.

The bass drums pound to life, pummelling through the concerto like machine gun fire. All hell breaks loose.

Tommaso Riccardi looms over the crowd, peering through tendrils of light-laced smoke as he growls and rasps and spits the lyrics. His passion and energy are evident in every movement, every harsh but perfect note.

They rip through the highlights of 2016’s King, including “The Fool”, “In Aeternum”, and “Cold As Perfection”. Between these newer tracks were a perfectly-chosen selection of favourites – “Labyrinth”, “Pathfinder”, “The Forsaking”, and “Violation” – which was my favourite from the evening.

During a rare moment when the band is quiet, instruments poised for the next movement, Riccardi muses, “Lately I’ve been thinking that t’s so important to live in the present, and I’m so happy to be here in NZ for the first time!” He leans back and lifts a half-empty pinot noir bottle to his painted lips and takes a deep sip.

All of it – the music, the visuals, the band, the crowd – came together into one beautiful, Romantic death metal performance. These guys know exactly what they’re trying to do with their music, and they bring it to life on stage in a way few other extreme acts are able to articulate. This is the other side of opera, the side that isn’t “high-brow” entertainment meant for only the rich and boeurgois. This is the opera of dark alleys and demonic possessions, of cruel love affairs and murderous intents.

While the band perform, Bordacchini interacts with them, creating a stylised operatic performance that further adds to the story being played out in the music. There’s both literal and figurative movement in their show, with the songs bleeding their majesty over the crowd.

You can tell most people in the room are drummers, here to see Francesco Paoli pound out those intense and intricate tracks. I’m not quite up with the drumming lingo, but let’s just say he didn’t disappoint.

Also, can I just make an aside to mention that Italian men with beautiful long hair should really wear frock coats when they play metal more often? #onbehalfofmetalwomeneverywhere #praisethegods

I also marvelled at how a large metal drunkit, three guitarists, a multi-instrumentallist, and an opera singer managed to all fit on the stage at the Kings Arms without knocking anything over or falling off the edge. No one did, so that was good.

During the encore, we played a game I’ve played at countless other extreme metal shows – the old “divide the room in half and make a wall of death” game. You know the one! Well, that happened, and it was rather fun. Then they played “In Honour of Reason”, and that was even more fun.

Basically, I consider this show to be one of the best extreme metal shows I’ve ever seen, ever. After seeing a show like this, I feel as though I’ve been part of something bigger than the sum of its parts, something that seems to encapsulate not just a band or a song, but an entire movement. I think many others who witnessed it would agree. Certainly, this guy does. At the end, when the band stood at the front to touch hands with the audience, the looks of delight on their faces certainly seemed to suggest it was as special to them as it was to us.

Please come back, beautiful Italian metal men. Mi manchi! Era bello!

When I’m not lusting after beautiful Italian men and head banging to Wagneresque death metal,  I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. My latest book, Writing the Wolf, second in the Wolves of Crookshollow series, is out now. Grab your copy from your favourite retailer, or join my mailing list to stay up-to-date with the series.

10 of the best female writers of the strange, funny, and fantastic

As a woman who also happens to be a writer, I’m aware of a lot of discussion that goes on around women in fiction and women who write fiction.

Despite the fact that females are the overwhelming consumers of fiction books (buying more than ⅔ of all fiction books sold), there’s still an “old boy’s club” attitude around much of fiction authorship. Women writers of equal merit have to fight twice as hard to have their books seen, promoted, reviewed, and awarded.

When people talk about a female writer, it’s often assumed they’re a romance writer, and even then – romance novels are derided as though they lack the literary merits of other, male-dominated genres.

And if you don’t happen to write romance? Writers who approach dark topics are often encouraged to adopt male pseudonyms, and it’s female writers more than males who are asked if they write their (smutty or murdery) stories from life experience. It’s as though it’s thought a woman lacks the ability to create worlds from her imagination.

And don’t even get me started on crap like the Sad Puppies.

Despite this ridiculous and pervasive bias, female writers continue to write and thrive. I want to continue to celebrate some of the awesome woman who have influenced me and chagned the way I thought about writing and reading and life.

In no particular order, here are some of my favourite female writers. I’ve probably missed some, but if I remember them, I’ll just do another list!

1. Margaret Atwood

Atwood is the queen of what’s commonly referred to a “magic realism”, books seeped in speculative tropes, but with a literary fiction bent. I first read The Handmaid’s Tale at high school (another class was studying it, and it sounded way more interesting than the book we were reding, so I read that instead), and was instantly hooked by the way she created a world that seemed so bleak and so utterly possible. I can’t wait to check out the new Hulu series when we eventually get it here in NZ.

Start with: The Handmaid’s Tale, Oryx and Crake.

2. VC Andrews

V.C. Andrews has been a bestselling phenomenon since the publication of her spellbinding classic Flowers in the Attic. Her books frequently deal with the subject of consensual incest, rags-to-riches, riches-to-rags, and other kinds of forbidden love. Sensual, creepy, and beautifully gothic, Andrews writes family sagas where tragedies and sins echo through generations. Despite the fact that she’s been dead since 1996, VC Andrews is still publishing books (using ghostwriters, obviously).

Start with: Flowers in the Attic, My Sweet Audrina.

3. Shirley Jackson

Jackson is a new love of mine. I devoured We Have Always Lived in the Castle in a single sitting a couple of months ago, and ever since I’ve been working through her entire catalogue. She’s one of the most respected writers of all time, cited as an influence on Neil Gaimen, Stephen King, Joanne Harris, and many others. When her short story, “The Lottery” was released in the New Yorker in 1948, the paper was flooded with more responses and letters than they’d ever received before. Her work has these sinister, unsettling overtones that make you doubt the sanity of every character. You never feel the same when you finish one of her books as when you started.

Start with: We Have Always Lived in the Castle, The Lottery and Other Stories.

4. Sophie Kinsella

Sophie Kinsella is one of the biggest authors of “chick-lit”, back when chick-lit was still a term publishing people used. The term is hokey but the books are anything but. Teaming with intelligence and hilarious, flawed, and wonderful characters, Kinsella’s books are probably some of the funniest I’ve ever read. EVER. They’re also brimming with wonderful English Englandisms. Hollywood made the first book in her Shopaholic series into a movie, but turned it all American and it was bad bad bad. These are perfect books for bus reading or holiday relaxing.

Start with: Confessions of a Shopaholic, My Not-So-Perfect Life.

5. Anne Rice

How could I, a teenage goth growing up in the nineties, not worship Rice, whose books practically defined the modern vampire tale. Rice taught me about the richness of language, that worlds are built not out of sweeping descriptions of huge, impressive things, but of a million tiny, important details scattered throughout a narrative. I really want to re-read Rice’s books, but they’re currently not available in ebook format as far as I can see, and my paperback copies are buried in boxes still. Anne, if you’re reading this, GET YOUR BOOKS ON KINDLE.

Start with: Interview with a Vampire, The Witching Hour.

6. Emma Bull

“Emma Bull is really good.” Neil Gaimen wrote that blurb on the cover of one of her books, and it’s totally true. Listen to Neil. If you haven’t read War for the Oaks, READ IT. OMG, seriously, just do it. This book was the first book I heard described as “urban fantasy” and it is the model by which I judge every book in the genre (and find most of them lacking). Emma’s rich language and exquisitely-broken main character will leave you addicted.

Start with: War for the Oaks, Bone Dance: A Fantasy for Technophiles.

7. Doreen Tovey

Dorreen Tovey was the first “grown up” author I ever read, back when I was seven or eight, I think. My mum showed me her book, Cats in the Belfry in the library, and I fell in love with all the Siamese cats frolicking over the cover. After reading through her whole series, I spent the next six years begging my parents for a Siamese cat for every birthday and Christmas (And I got my Toby when I was 13, because they’re awesome parents). Tovey tells these hilarious true tales of her life in a tiny English village with her husband Charles, their crazy cats, all the wacky village characters, and their donkey Annabel. You will fall in love.

Start with: Cats in the Belfry, Cats in May.

8. Liane Moriaty

Liane Moriaty is an Australian writer who creates what I would call, “Antipodean gothic.” Her stories feature these wonderful, sympathetic characters (mostly women) who you wish like hell were your close friends, who end up in the most impossibly awful situations. Each book features a deep, sordid mystery that tears these character’s lives apart, and you spend half your time hoping like hell it won’t turn out as bad as you know it will, and the rest of the time wondering how they’re going to put their lives back together. I binge-read all of her books on my South Island trip last year, and now I’m hanging on for the next one.

Start with: Big Little Lies, What Alice Forgot.

9. Kameron Hurley

I discovered Kameron through her book of essays, The Geek Feminist Revolution. And then I joined her Patreon and started reading through her short fiction, and got hooked. Kameron is really, REALLY good. She calls her genre New Weird, which is basically what I’m beginning to realise is actually what I write (the Engine Ward series fits here perfectly). Her books are profoundly dark and disturbing and feature casts of characters, many of whom don’t fit established genre tropes. Lots of strong women, gender-fluidity, and SENTIENT TREES.

Start with: The Stars are Legion, The Mirror Empire.

10. Olivia Cunning

Olivia writes sexy contemporary romances, including what’s probably my favourite romance series of all time – Sinners on Tour. These books follow the five members of a heavy metal band while they tour the country, break hearts, solve mysteries, and find true love. These books are super erotic, and the characters are so exquisitely drawn you kind of all in love with all of them. By the end of the series you just want to keep going on adventures with them forever.

Start with: Backstage Pass, Try Me.

There are so many other women writers I love – H Y Hanna, Darcy Coates, Mary Roach, Francesca Lia Block … the list could just go on forever. Who are your favourites?

When I’m not trying to read all the books in the universe and headbanging to Wagneresque death metal,  I write dark urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. My latest book, Writing the Wolf, second in the Wolves of Crookshollow series, is out now. Grab your copy from your favourite retailer, or join my mailing list to stay up-to-date with the series.