Tag: magic

The world needs stories

The world needs stories

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I never dreamed of writing the “Great Australian Novel” or selling enormous amounts of books. I just wanted to tell stories. The world needs them. It always has.

Photo from Pexels by Suzy Hazelwood

Stories reach people when all the arguments and debates don’t. There can be understanding and connection on an intuitive level. Points can be made without anyone feeling they’re being beaten over the head. And stories stay with us. We may not remember all the detail, but a story we’ve loved will stay in our heart. Who doesn’t hold on to the memory of a book they loved as a child? I can’t remember the details of many of the books I read as an adult. But my early adventures in reading stay with me, with amazing clarity.

Sometimes we revisit the tales that moved us. We know how they made us feel, the realisations they gave us, the way they sparked our imagination. A good story can reach out to people. Unlike other forms of writing that are located in a specific time and place, they can be, in a way, eternal. Enduring.

We are narrative beings.

Something about tales speaks to a spark that lies within all of us. Children who are denied stories are denied a chance for a garden to grown in their soul. Perhaps what we learn through books needs to become more nuanced as we grow to adulthood. The world is not divided into good and evil. But the tales we encounter early on give us a framework to start with.

In fact, we could understand the world better if we questioned the stories that underpin it. Every society has its own narratives. In Western society the enduring story is that everything must be done in service of the economy. We are told this so often we don’t even realise it’s just a story. Nobody questions whether there is another way to conceive the world. What would our society look like if the underpinning narrative, the story we all believed in, was that everything should be done in service of humanity? What if the cultural stories placed living beings at their heart?

Fiction writers use their imagination to create worlds that are underpinned by different stories. They show us other possibilities. We need that now, more than ever. To change the world, we need to see how it can be different.  And we need to care. We need our hearts and minds engaged. Stories can do all of that.

Dreams of story telling

This is why I chose at a young age to be a story teller. Not a ‘writer’. I didn’t have visions of sitting in a garret starving while I carved out some masterpiece from blood and suffering. I didn’t picture myself appearing at writers festivals, exchanging words of wisdom for book sales. No – I just wanted to tell stories, because they seemed magical.

I’ve been told I’m naiive for imagining writers can change the world. But all it takes is for one idea to light a spark that grows into a flame, and change can happen. I suppose that belief is why my central character in The Tales of Tarya, Mina, is a story teller who changes her world with her stories. Art and imagination are tools for doing magic in the world.

 

Sometimes an ending comes as a surprise

Sometimes an ending comes as a surprise

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Sometimes writers play games with their own minds. They set up little rules. They have superstitions. As I came close to writing the ending of Pierrot’s Song I made a decision. I would write everything but the epilogue. Then I would go back and read all three books again. Only then would I think about writing the epilogue. I wanted to do it justice, and to make sure I wrapped up everything properly.

Photo by ATUL MAURYA from Pexels

Clearly my mind had other ideas. I woke up this morning, far too early, and I could hear the voice of one of my characters in my head. The three books of the Tales of Tarya series are written in the third person. Only the prologue to each book is in the first person. Normally when my characters speak, it is in scenes and dialogue. But this was different. This character had something to say, and I had to get out of bed and write it down immediately.

Avoiding the ending

I’ve been reluctant to write the end of this series. Writing three books is a long journey to undertake. You immerse yourself in a world of your own creation for a long time. It starts to feel as familiar as the real world. My characters are as alive to me as my friends. I know them in that intuitive way where I understand how they will act, without having to think too hard about it.

So I didn’t want to leave them. Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things to do in this life. Especially when you know it is permanent. I remember the agony of farewelling a friend I had met while travelling, not knowing if I would ever see her again since we lived on opposite sides of the world. Of leaving my father’s hospital room for the last time to fly home and go back to work, knowing there wouldn’t be time to come back before he passed away.

I could see the end of my series, drawing closer and closer. And I didn’t want it to arrive.

The unexpected magic of writing

I’m definitely a plotter, not a pantser. Mina’s story is one where secrets are uncovered. There is a puzzle at the heart of Mina’s quest, and only when she solves that can she do what she must. To create a puzzle, you need to plan in advance, planting seeds throughout the books. To uncover secrets you need to hide them, sometimes in plain sight. So I have always known where my final book would end. But writing is not entirely a logical process. Sometimes, perhaps the best of times, the intuitive brain kicks in. You may know what needs to happen, but not the fine detail of how it will happen. I love it when this occurs. But not at 6am!

But there is a story within a story in my trilogy. This is the tale of muses – the inspiration for all creative types. So when the muse tapped me on the shoulder and told me to wake up, I couldn’t really say no.

Finding flow and finding the ending

Photo by Monica Silvestre from Pexels.

So I sat down with a notebook and pen. I didn’t even grab a coffee, because I wanted to capture the words before they dissolved in the morning light. And I wrote. The words ran across the page, paragraph after paragraph. It felt like magic. I knew what I needed to say. I didn’t have to give it any thought. And the ending of my series wrote itself. The voice in my head kept speaking until I had everything I needed written down. And then I was able to get up and start my day.

By doing this I broke my own rule. I still have two scenes left to write in the lead up to the epilogue. But maybe it’s better this way. Because if I had written these words after everything else was complete, I think I’d be feeling terribly bereft now. This is the end of the story after all. The curtain is about to close on the travelling players. But when your central character is a storyteller, I guess you learn some things about storytelling. And one of those things is that a story is a living thing. Sometimes it chooses how it should be told.

 

 

Of unicorns and moonstones: the tale of Winterhued

Of unicorns and moonstones: the tale of Winterhued

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Winterhued: A glorious first novel by E.H. Alger

I don’t normally post reviews on my blog, but occasionally a book crosses my path that I want to share with those who love fantasy as much as I do. Winterhued is one such book.

The path to discovering independent authors is difficult. Their books aren’t easily available in book stores. Online search results are weighted towards known books. Sometimes a little luck and a dash of magic are needed to uncover new and wonderful writing.

A dash of magic…

Since the publication of Harlequin’s Riddle I’ve attended various festivals, conferences and markets. Recently I attended Golden Owl Event’s Mythical Market, a magical day out in the Dandenong Ranges. Stallholders and market-goers alike wore costumes: there were fairies, unicorns and other mythical beings roaming everywhere.

One attendee wore an outstanding steampunk outfit. Being a costumer myself I couldn’t help but admire her costuming skill. The conversation soon turned to books, and how difficult it is to be noticed as an author when you aren’t published by one of the big publishers. We each talked about the stories we had written. Before I knew it, I was holding Winterhued in my hands.

First impressions

Winterhued is a stunning book. At 464 pages and trade paperback dimensions it feels solid, promising a substantial read. The cover is immediately intriguing. A tired looking knight seems to be returning from weary travels, and a looming dragon perches, almost camouflaged, above the broken window. Illuminated scrollwork decorates each chapter title. Section dividers depict various characters and items that appear in the book. And, like all good fantasy, there is a detailed map to orient the reader to the world.

Before turning to novel writing, E.H. Alger worked as an illustrator for many of the big publishing houses, and her eye for design is evident in the beauty of this book as a physical artifact.

The tale of Winterhued

Princess Winterhued lives with her father in Castle Lawhill. Though she is wise and just, loved by her people, her father is self-centred and bitter, clinging to the throne to the detriment of all. King Gers is a despot, unable to accept his waning faculties. Worse, his advisors are trying to turn him against his daughter. He is even considering taking a new wife in hopes of fathering a male heir.

When an unseen creature attacks the castle matters the conflict between Gers and his daughter worsens. Half the castle lies in ruins and many of its people are dead. Strong leadership is needed, but Winterhued’s father can think only of himself, and undermines any of his daughter’s efforts. It soon becomes apparent that the whispers are true. The castle was attacked by a dragon, and the beast is still in the area. Trapped within the broken castle, Winterhued seeks help from a lowly servant-boy. Her plan might be their only chance to escape alive.

Fantasy that takes its time

Writing, as with food and fashion and home decorating, has waves of fashion. What is being published now tends to be minimalist. Publishers tell aspiring authors to delete all adverbs, avoid long descriptions, and dive straight into the action. Stories move at a fast pace. Once upon a time fantasy wasn’t like this. It took its time. It lovingly built worlds and drew the reader deep into them. Reading fantasy such as that by Tolkien was like going on a boat journey. Part of the pleasure was in the travel. Now, we often fly by plane when we read, racing through the story at speed.

A moonstone pendant plays an important role in the story. Image by Stefan Schweihofer from Pixabay

Winterhued is a novel in the best tradition of Tolkien-esque fantasy. The world is lovingly, carefully wrought. A dazzling cast of characters people the land of Manydown. The reader has to pay careful attention to understand who is who and how they are connected. At first the tale moves around the castle, showing the experiences of those who have survived the dragon’s attack. Like a tapestry woven from many bright colours, the pattern is indiscernible at first. Patience is required as the field is prepared, then the picture starts to emerge, layer upon layer.

Questions arise as the elements of the story are laid down. What is the significance of the moonstone necklace? Who is the unnamed knight who is making his weary way towards Lawhill? What is the hidden grief in Winterhued’s heart? Finally, in the most satisfying way, the whole becomes clear.

A tale to cherish

Being used to more minimalist modern fantasy, it took me a few chapters to acclimatise to a book with a different pace. Initially I struggled with the use of medieval-style dialogue. But the beauty of the writing quickly drew me in and I found myself immersed more and more in the tale. I wasn’t reading to reach a destination, the denouement of the story or the solution to the mystery. I was reading because I cared deeply about Winterhued and Brenn, Ancaios and the unnamed knight. Because the land of Manydown had come alive in my mind. And because every word, every chapter was a joyous pleasure. And that, I think, is true magic.

The Magic of Creativity: Why the Tarya books are about all artists

The Magic of Creativity: Why the Tarya books are about all artists

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Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius, from Pexels

Tarya, the mystical otherworld of the Tales of Tarya series, is a place of magic and creativity. It is a place reached in those moments when we become absorbed in what we are creating, whether that is a novel, a painting or a song. When author Laura Goodin recently launched Columbine’s Tale, she talked about why creatives know Tarya and its magic so well. I was so thrilled with the way she had captured the central premise of the book that I asked if I could include her speech on my blog. Read on to understand what lies at the heart of the books Harlequin’s Riddle and Columbine’s Tale.

When creatives get together…

One night a few years ago, our apartment was filled with actors, musicians, and techies. They had just closed a successful run of The Merry Wives of Windsor (in which my husband had had a role).  As is the way of theatre people after closing night, they were boisterous, roisterous, and rowdy.  The windows were rattling; the light fixtures were swinging; people were bouncing off the walls.

Our daughter, also a theatre person, was in high school at the time.  She’d brought a friend over for the evening:  a quiet and pensive young woman who was by nature a scientist.  Our daughter, of course, was completely at her ease, but her friend sat stiffly, hands clenched together in her lap, shoulders drawn in, looking uneasily around the room.  My husband, himself an exuberant bear of a man, bounded over to the sofa where the two sat, flung out his arm in an expansive gesture to indicate the chaos around us, and cried jubilantly, “This is what we have instead of money!”

Tarya is magic

What was the “this” he was talking about? What had we chosen above security, above money, above society’s approval? It was Tarya:  the wonderful realm of magic and mastery and exhilaration that we artists enter when we create – if we’re lucky.  It’s not a sure thing.  But once you manage to find it, you spend the rest of your life trying to get back there.  When you’re in Tarya, you are aligned with something huge, irresistible, and utterly glorious, like a needle aligned with the massive magnetic forces of the earth.  You are doing what you were born to do, buzzing and ringing with the elemental power of the universe.  Who wouldn’t give anything for that?

Tarya can be dangerous

The characters in Columbine’s Tale have been to Tarya, and, yes, they’ll do anything – absolutely anything – to protect their access to it.  At the same time, Mina, herself no stranger to Tarya, knows what this access costs, and she’ll do absolutely anything to stop the other characters from wreaking yet more damage, ruining yet more lives.  And here is the kernel of this fabulous story:  the irresistible force meets the immovable object.  She must stop them, but she can’t stop them.  She must stop them.  Yet she can’t stop them.  These characters want what they want with a mighty wanting, which makes them vibrant, complex, and entirely alive.  They face terrible consequences whichever way the plot resolves, and they act within a complex and richly described world that imposes genuine constraints on their choices and actions, which makes the story both riveting and deeply emotional.

Tarya is a compulsion

This book is written not just with craft, but with heart.  The idea of Tarya is not just a clever plot device or facile metaphor for artistic creativity.  Instead, it’s a focus for yearning, for the compulsion to create, for the demands that art places on the artist – demands that we leap to fulfill, for we can do nothing else.  We have been there.  The question Columbine’s Tale asks is an uncomfortable one:  will we, too, do anything to get back?  Anything? Are we greater or lesser artists if we, like Mina, hesitate?

Brilliant darkness: An interview with Isobel Blackthorn

Brilliant darkness: An interview with Isobel Blackthorn

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Today I’m delving into the mind of author Isobel Blackthorn and I have to admit to being both excited and a little nervous. Isobel’s books are brilliant, and having a thrilling dark edginess. She holds a PhD in Western Esotericism and the occult features in most of her writing. So far Isobel has published five novels, The Legacy of Old Gran Parks, The Cabin Sessions, A Perfect Square, The Drago Tree and Asylum, and a short story collection, All Because of You. An avid writer, her current work includes two dark psychological thrillers and a biographical fiction of occultist, Alice Bailey. If this little taste leaves you wanting more, visit her website.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

I’ve always been an avid reader and it’s hard to single out any particular author. As a child Pastures of the Blue Crane by Hesba Fay Brinsmead left a deep and lasting impression. In my early twenties, I was captivated by Hermann Hesse and Franz Kafka, and then by Doris Lessing. I devoured her entire Children of Violence series, which is set in what was then Rhodesia, and much of her Canopus in Argos Archives, which is amazing science fiction. A little later I read Iain Banks’ The Wasp Factory, and I loved the novel so much I read everything by him I could lay my hands on and there was a stage when I didn’t read any other author. I wasn’t reading much during that phase of my life, it was a dark period, and Iain Banks kept me going. I’ve always felt a profound sense of belonging to the world of novelists, even before I was one, as though the authors whose books I loved were sitting beside me as friends.

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

Stories give shape to our lives. Stories help us make sense of the world. Stories open us to our own imaginations. Morality, empathy, compassion and understanding, all these qualities are enhanced by reading fiction. For many, stories are a form of escape from the burden of life, a way to unwind, or a form of entertainment. Even then, a story may invite us to ponder or question.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

What an interesting question! All storytellers are magicians. All creativity is a form of magic. We cast spells on the minds of our readers, viewers, listeners. We enchant. And we do so to manipulate the reader into seeing the world our way, or another way, if only for a while. We might be trying to transform the reader in some way. Even at the level of pure entertainment, a novel is enchantment, the reader is taken away from their ordinary reality and into their imaginations.

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

The Fool. I walk through life and into situations naively and largely unaware of the people around me and their hidden motives and agendas. I have a sort of natural blindness. I take people at face value and in good faith. I accept what they present to me as truth. I fail to see the shadow. Therefore, I have been tricked and deceived, abused and trampled on, or treated as though I am not worth more than as somewhere to wipe one’s feet.

Isobel Blackthorn writes across a range of genres

That said, I do not carry around a sense of victimhood and I am not bitter, I simply keep walking on, just as the Fool keeps walking. Although with age, I am a little wiser. We are all made wiser if we try to learn from situations and our mistakes. I have learned that people lie. I have learned that people run their own agendas. I have learned that the person who tells you to beware of someone stabbing you in the back, is in all likelihood holding the knife. On the up side, I have accumulated a treasure chest of experiences and every writer needs those!

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

The occult crops up in most of my writing as a theme, as do art and social justice. I have a passion for the Canary Islands (Spain), and set some of my stories there. Each novel I write is distinct. I write across genres and I like to explore a range of ideas. A Perfect Square is a good example of the themes I like to explore. On one level, it is a story about different approaches to creativity. It is also a dark mystery concerning two mothers and their daughters.
An Interview with Laura E. Goodin

An Interview with Laura E. Goodin

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Author, humorist and bellringer, Laura E. Goodin

Today on my blog I have an interview with writer, academic and bellringer Laura E. Goodin. Laura’s exciting adventure fantasies, Mud and Glass and After the Bloodwood Staff, are published by Odyssey Books. Laura’s madcap take on academia, Mud and Glass, has been compared to the writing of Jasper Fforde, and with good reason. As an escapee from the Academy myself, I laughed out loud many times at the hilarity and madcap craziness. But as you will see from Laura’s answers below, her unique, humorous take on the world is only one of her many talents – her answers are deeply moving and insightful.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

I learned to read unusually early, so I don’t really remember a particular revelatory moment in that regard.  My first reading obsession, though, was the Chronicles of Narnia.  From 50 years away I can see their flaws (racism, sexism, classism, theological approaches that create more problems than they solve), but at the time they were my gateway into a world where children were capable and strong, and magic and wonder were everywhere, and where I could imagine myself with the kind of daring and skills that I in no way had in real life.  I didn’t use the books for escape; quite the contrary:  I used them as a model for becoming someone better, more capable, more reliable, more courageous in the real world.  Granted, I wasn’t the happiest little misfit in the world, and stories of all kinds did provide a refuge for me.  But they also showed this little misfit the possibilities of the human spirit.  I saw ways my idiosyncrasies could be strengths, and I became determined to make the most of the person I was and am, rather than trying to be someone who always knows the right thing to wear to a party.  (I never really know the right thing to wear to a party.  Or anywhere else, for that matter.  It’s just my best guess.  So if I show up at your house dressed in completely the wrong manner for the occasion, you’ll know it’s because instead of studiously acquiring the rules for attire, I’ve spent my time learning karate and bellringing and fencing, riding horses, cooking elaborate meals, and teaching cool stuff to my students.)

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

There are as many reasons for that as there are people.  Me, I need stories for inspiration and refuge, entertainment and education.  I need them because they urge me to fling myself at the world in a great big exuberant embrace, to grapple with it and comfort it and challenge it and heal it.  Stories show me truths and help me see what to strive for.  They strengthen my soul and increase my capacity for joy and compassion.  They help me see the miracles and wonders that await around every corner.  They make me more, they make me better, they make me my truest self.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

Hm.  Do you mean, “What am I best at as a writer?”  That might be dialogue.  Mine seems to be very easy for the reader to hear as natural speech and get immersed in.  I pay a lot of attention to the sounds and rhythms of the words themselves, and I’m a maniac for cutting extraneous words and syllables out; that could have something to do with it.  Do you mean, “How do I most effectively capture the attention – indeed, the awareness – of my readers?”  I like to think it’s a combination of quirky yet plausible characters, situations of mayhem with always the possibility of a belly laugh somewhere along the way, and SCRUPULOUS – I repeat, SCRUPULOUS – attention to spelling, grammar, and punctuation.  This last may be the most important, because well-punctuated, well-spelled words arranged in brilliantly clear ways let the reader relax:  they say, “You’re in the hands of an expert, precious reader.  You won’t have to stop to cringe at a rookie grammar error or scowl as you try to figure out how to resolve an ambiguity.  So breathe, begin, and instantly forget you’re reading.”  When readers can lose themselves into a story like that, that’s magic.  The magic of grammar, my friends.  It gives you power over your readers’ very minds.  But you must use your powers for good, never for evil.  Promise me!

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

I’m finding this incredibly hard to answer.  I think the character I most identify with is Cat Chant from Diana Wynne Jones’s Charmed Life.  Like Cat, I tend to be hesitant about inconveniencing others, and I spent the early part of my life profoundly unaware, for the most part, of my own powers.  Like Cat, I got the shock of my life when I started to realise just how powerful I am.  That’s one thing middle age is absolutely great for:  you begin to get a sense that you can handle what gets thrown at you, because at some point you’ve already handled some pretty horrible stuff.  You become aware of your powers.  There’s a reason older women have historically been objects of fear and persecution:  we are becoming aware of our powers, and, even more terrifying, we’re using them on purpose!  It doesn’t seem to matter that most of us use them to help and heal and drive positive change.  We’re masterless and wild, and we might inflict some serious damage.  Maybe that’s the archetype I now identify with:  wild, raving woman of wisdom and vision and might.  (But whenever I reread Charmed Life, I’m back to being Cat.)

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

I keep seeing two main ideas in my writing (and that includes not only my novels, but my plays, poetry, libretti, and short fiction).  First, the world is vastly more than we can see in our daily lives:  there are hidden meanings and miraculous coincidences and flashes of mystery and power that we sense but cannot often see.  Second, in such a world, how can we be anything other than heroic?  How can we turn our backs on our own beautiful, mighty selves to be just ordinary, when the world cries out to us?  My characters tend to find that whole new layers of meaning and challenge lie behind what they thought was reality, and that this means they’re going to have to be something more than they thought they could ever become.  The world is full of wardrobes.  (A friend in America had a wardrobe; they’re rare there, because most American houses have closets.  “Wow,” I said when I saw it.  “Does that lead to Narnia?”  She said, “I wish it did.  I could use the room.”)
Flow as a Doorway to Magic

Flow as a Doorway to Magic

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Harlequin’s Riddle is not your typical fantasy. There’s actually not a droplet of magic in it. Mina, the central character, doesn’t learn magic. There is no speaking of spells, hand waving or use of wands anywhere in any of the books.  There are some fantastic books out there that use this sort of overt magic. But I went in a different direction. What interests me is thinking about what magic already exists in the world. We forget how incredible life is, taking for granted all the wondrous things that happen every day. This is especially true for people. Their minds are complex, their lives are fascinating and their achievements can be staggering.

I’m particularly interested in creativity, and how that shapes people. Or, as becomes evident in my book, how people use their creative abilities to shape the world. Art, in whatever form, can change the way we think about things. It can take us out of the moment, transporting us so completely that we forget who we are. It can help us to empathise and connect with others, or heal long-held hurts.

About Flow

In my explorations in creativity over the years I’ve noticed a recurring theme, which is that when people do their creative practice, whatever that might be, they go into a different state, or mindset. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a psychology professor, calls this state ‘flow’. In this state creators become completely absorbed in whatever they are doing. The requirements of the real world (food, ego etc.) fall away in place of a sense of fulfilment. This state can be very productive. Csiszentmihalyi also says the “whole being is involved”.

Flow and Writing

Many writers have had the experience of working on a piece, and having some sort of inexplicable or unusual experience, such as a character ‘coming to life’ and taking control of the story. Or writing about a place they’ve never been to, only to discover when they get there or see photos of it that they’ve described things with an uncanny accuracy. This is what fascinates me about flow – what if it is an opportunity to tap into a different mental state that links you in some way to something bigger than yourself? This was an idea I wanted to play with in my book.

Flow in Tarya

In Harlequin’s Riddle I take this idea of flow as a starting point to the fantastical elements of the story. Rather than a doorway to a different mental state, creativity becomes a literal doorway – to a place called Tarya. It is a place that sits beside the real world. There are spiritual aspects to Tarya, but it is not just a separate realm, like heaven. Events that happen in Tarya can have an effect on the real world. Mina, the central character of the book, discovers she is able to reach Tarya when she tells stories. But more importantly, she is able to bring aspects of her stories into being for her audience.

Writers are endlessly fascinated by the writing process. Sometimes it can definitely feel like it is magic. Having a heroine who can do interesting things with her stories is so much fun as a writer. I’d like to think there’s a little bit of me in Mina – or a little bit of Mina in me. But she may have other ideas…

If you’d like to learn more about Mina’s abilities, sign up to my email list (see the bottom of the page) and I’ll send you a free short story that tells you Mina’s back story.

 

 
An Interview with Sophie Masson

An Interview with Sophie Masson

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I’m very excited that today’s post is an interview with prolific award-winning author and publisher, Sophie Masson. I plan to do one interview a month with an author that I believe brings magic into the world with their writing. I can think of no better place to begin than with Sophie, who has a fascination with fairytales and myths and has written many truly magical books. Her stories have enchanted readers of all ages across a range of genres. She will be appearing at the Historical Novel Society of Australasia Conference this weekend, for which she is the conference patron. This will be an exciting weekend of workshops, talks and panels focused on historical fiction (I’ll do a wrap up of the conference next week.) Sophie’s generous endorsement of Harlequin’s Riddle has encouraged readers to pick up my book, for which I am enormously grateful.

You can find out more about Sophie in her own words on her website and blog or on Facebook or Twitter.

About Sophie

Born in Indonesia to French parents and brought up in Australia and France, Sophie Masson is the award-winning, internationally-published author of over 60 books, for children, young adults and adults. Her latest books include the YA historical thriller, Jack of Spades, two picture books, Two Rainbows, illustrated by Michael McMahon, and Once Upon An ABC, illustrated by Christopher Nielsen, and the adult paranormal thriller duology, Trinity: The Koldun Code and Trinity: The False Prince, set in modern Russia.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

Glad you asked for writers in the plural ? So many of these opened my eyes to storytelling magic when I was a child: the great tellers of fairy tales, for instance, Grimm, Perrault, Andersen, Madame Leprince de Beaumont(of Beauty and the Beast fame), the anonymous tellers of the Arabian nights…And then, writers ranging from CS Lewis to Tove Jannsson, Nicholas Stuart Gray to Jules Verne, Alexandre Dumas to the Countess de Segur, Herge(of Tintin fame!) and Goscinny and Uderzo(of Asterix fame!); Alan Garner, Paul Berna, Enid Blyton, Patricia Wrightson..and many many many more! On my blog I’ve written about five of my favourite childhood books—the list is huge but I just selected these five and wrote about why I loved them: in all of them, storytelling is a huge ingredient, as is magic and adventure.

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

Because otherwise they wither inside…I think it’s an essential factor in making us human. Without stories, not only is it hard to make sense of the world, but also of ourselves. It really annoys me when people say things like, ‘Oh, that’s just a story!’ There is no just a story. Of course not all stories are equal and some can be used to bad ends as well—but they are powerful things, never to be underestimated.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

Being able somehow to make creatures of paper and ink feel like creatures of flesh and blood: to make strong, vivid characters in a believable world, even when it’s fantasy…I feel so absolutely lucky that I was given this gift…so grateful I can do what I was born to do and help to weave my little corner of the world’s stories.

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

I am fascinated by shapeshifters… I am also really interested in ‘halflings’—changelings, people in between worlds, who sometimes don’t fit in and sometimes do—This fascination could have something to do with the fact that as a child growing up in two worlds—a French speaking one at home and an English speaking one at school—I felt a bit like a changeling or a shapeshifter I guess ?

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

Love, betrayal, courage, friendship, creativity…and dangerous choices. Always dangerous choices!

Bio

Rachel Nightingale is a writer, playwright, educator and actor. With a passion for story telling and the theatre, it was only natural that her first fantasy series would centre on both. She lives in regional Australia with her family, a very bossy cat and the cutest dog in the world. She is represented by Creative Net speakers.

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