Women in SF&F Month: A. G. Slatter
Apr
14
2025

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This week of Women in SF&F Month starts with an essay by A. G. Slatter! Her work includes The Bitterwood Bible and Other Recountings (winner of the World Fantasy Award for Best Collection), Of Sorrow and Such (winner of the Ditmar Award for Best Novella), and The Path of Thorns (winner of the Aurealis and Australian Shadows Awards for Best Fantasy Novel). Her most recent novel, the gothic fantasy The Crimson Road, is described as “a tale of vampires, assassins, ancient witches and broken promises” and is set in the same world as several of her other works, both short and long. I’m thrilled she’s here today to discuss how she approaches writing stories of differing lengths in “The Long and the Short of It.”

Cover of The Crimson Road by A. G. Slatter

About The Crimson Road:

Violet Zennor has had a peculiar upbringing. Training as a fighter in underground arenas, honing her skills against the worst scum, murderers and thieves her father could pit her against, she has learned to be ruthless. To kill.

Until the day Hedrek Zennor dies. Violet thinks she’s free — then she learns that her father planned to send her into the Darklands, where the Leech Lords reign. Where Violet’s still-born brother was taken years ago. Violet steadfastly refuses. Until one night two assassins attempt to slaughter her — and it becomes clear: she’s going to have to clean up the mess her father made.

By turns gripping and bewitching, sharp and audacious, this mesmerising story takes you on a journey into the dark heart of Slatter’s sinister and compelling fantasy world in a tale of vampires, assassins, ancient witches and broken promises.

The Long and the Short of It
By Angela Slatter

A question I find myself frequently asked is this: “How do you know whether an idea is a short story or a novel?”

The sad truth is that I don’t.

But I think that as a writer I’ve developed a habit of aiming an idea towards one form or the other — or the third, middling thing, a novella — and it’s a matter of discipline to keep things on track. My career now is less about scribbling a random short story that’s popped into my head and putting it in the “story bank” in the hope an editor will ask me for something or I’ll see a callout for just that very thing. Mostly it’s now a matter of an editor approaching me and asking, “Would you write a story for this anthology? Here’s the deadline.” Most editors who work with me nowadays have done so for a long while and are aware that when I say “Yes”, it means that while I’ll probably be two standard earth weeks late, I will have something for them. It’s definitely not an approach I’d recommend, especially if you’re just starting out, and make no mistake: I’m in a privileged position and I recognise and appreciate that. However, I’ve also been doing this for going on twenty years and if a few advantages had not accrued to me over that time then I’d definitely be biting a lot more people than I currently do.

Anyhoo: that story will generally be written from scratch because I simply don’t have the deposits in the story bank I used to when I was a carefree baby writer making notes on cocktail napkins and post-it notes. I do have some files on the laptop that are “story stubs”, i.e. fragments that have occurred as just seeds of what-ifs or character sketches, and I do go back sometimes to those when I’m looking for a spark. While I’d absolutely love to be able to sit down and tinker with constructing a new mosaic collection set in the Sourdough world, all newly written tales, it’s just not on the cards at the moment because mostly my time’s currently spent writing novels and novellas, which are very different beasts.

I suppose the thing that’s foremost in my mind when I get an idea I think might go the distance from points A to Z, is the structure and what it requires in each case, whether I’m writing a short story or a novel — or a novella.

For a short story, I can begin with a scrap of an idea, and by that I genuinely mean an anorexic noodle of a thought, and as long as I keep in mind that there should be three acts, what each act is meant to do in terms of function in the narrative, and keep each act roughly a similar length, I can use word count as a guide (even I can manage that math!). Mostly, the story will come in at around the right number of words. Although, having said that, I confess that I recently subbed a requested story that was meant to be 6,000 words but, errr, ended up almost 9,000 words. Fortunately for me the editor was okay with that — a rare and lucky occurrence — and, again, definitely not an approach I’d recommend.

Usually I’m in better control of the wordage because I’m mindful of not causing a blowout. That is, I’m disciplined about keeping these things in mind as I write:

  • not over describing the setting;
  • choosing descriptions that give the sharpest and simplest impression for the reader’s imagination;
  • using sensory or emotive descriptions that trigger a reader’s familiarity with an experience to engage their feelings quickly;
  • keeping dialogue direct but letting it do some of the foreshadowing and mood setting;
  • keeping the narrative wrapped tightly around the idea that a short story is about crisis, choice, and/or consequence;
  • and, above all, not introducing new characters every time I’ve got a new piece of information to bring in or a new action that needs to be done. Not to sound toxic, but it’s like calorie counting for the story.

I personally don’t find that approach restrictive, but rather the above are helpful guidelines for my first draft. It means I’m mostly colouring inside the lines, so to speak. I’ll start to embellish in the next draft, where I’m figuring out what’s important and what might have seemed like a great idea at 2 a.m. but now is just something that’s not very strong and can either be removed or repurposed. Maybe that line I threw in as padding for the setting or to layer a character, something I thought was a neat kind of throw-away? Well, on the redrafting that might show itself to be a really good idea, something to be developed and add genuine depth to the story. Always remember that your first draft is never your last draft (no matter how brilliant you might think it is in the minutes, hours, days and weeks after you’ve just written it).

When it comes to an idea for a novel, however, I think about it like walking across a whole world, not just taking a turn around a garden. There’s so much more for me to show the reader, not just about the characters and their lives, but also the place in which they live, how it’s affected and continues to affect them while the plot moves forward, and how they affect that environment in turn. Thinking about your character and wondering what in their past might break them or make them stronger. This is where you can pull out the backstory and give it a really good shake — not in the form of infodumps, obviously, but like you’re examining all the threads in the warp and weft of someone’s lifeline as it’s being woven by the Fates. It’s been observed by folk cleverer than I that a short story is a single facet examined in detail, a novel is the entire gem being held up. With a novel, I work with structure again, breaking it into four acts rather than three; again, each part has a specific function in the narrative in terms of what each reveals and how it moves the plot forward.

For a novella? In my practice, this is where the stuff listed above kind of intersects. You need more detail than you’ll give in a short story, but you also don’t want to include the same level of detail as a novel. The scope of your plot is going to be narrower in terms of the story you’re telling. I give fewer glimpses into the backstory and try to keep the plot relatively simple in terms of how many threads make it up — but note that doesn’t mean fewer plot twists because you’ve got to keep the reader engaged. So, again, structure is my guide, and I split the novella into four acts, same as with a novel, and assign a basic word count to each act. Personally, I really like the novella form for playing around with different ways of telling a story — The Bone Lantern (Absinthe Press) is three tales woven together, one of them is the frame tale for the other two; Fitcher’s Bird (which I’ve just finished writing for Titan) is a mix of different points of view around a single fairy tale. I find the shorter length is great for trying new things without it becoming so unwieldy that I lose track of the story.

Another consideration for deciding whether an idea becomes a short story, novella or novel is how I want the main character to come out at the end. How changed are they? Will the length of the piece convince the reader that the character will have undergone a particular degree of development in 3,000 words? Or will it require a greater length to bring them over to my way of thinking? In terms of the plot, what do I want to happen? Not just to the character but to the setting, the world in which everything occurs — can I convincingly tell a tale in which a world changes overnight in 4,000 words or less — or will that feel rushed? Am I giving too much setting detail? Am I using four pages to describe a marketplace when three paragraphs will do? Let me reiterate: short stories are about looking at a single facet of the tale in detail; the novel is about a whole bunch of facets — the entire gem is held up to the light and rotated so you can examine every part of it. And the novella? Somewhere in the middle — something you’d like fries with…

So, is there any way to know whether your idea is a short story, a novella or a novel? Or even if it’s going to go the distance to any of those forms — or just curl up for a dirt nap on the road to Writerville?

Not for me, no. I don’t ever know if an idea will lend itself to a novel or a short story, but I think I’ve developed an instinct for how to apply an idea to the shorter or longer form. Part of that is discipline, part of that is how I can “see” the story in my mind’s eye at its end. Keep in mind that I sometimes do go back and extend a short story to use as part of a novel — the short story “Brisneyland by Night” became part of the supernatural crime novel Vigil, and the short story “The Summer Husband” is part of the novel A Forest Darkly which I’m working on now. I’ve been able to do this because some shorts lend themselves to either being a standalone chapter in a larger work, or something that can be sliced up and dropped in at various points in the narrative as part of the greater plot because I could envisage it as part of something larger. Or because I had a feeling, even when I wrote “The End” that I wasn’t quite finished with the characters — because I wanted to know their next ending. Not every short story will lend itself to this! Do I know which ones will? Nope. Sorry!

So, for me, structure is my guardrail as I write — I try not to use it as a restriction, but just a control experiment. These techniques work for me. My caveat is this: my techniques won’t work for every writer — we’re all different, we have different habits to help us get our words down, and get our projects finished. So, this is in no way me laying down the law (or lore!) — this is just a “what works for me” essay on the long and the short of it (and the middling thing). My general writing advice is to try as many techniques as you can, see what works for you — but if it doesn’t adapt to your habits within 3 weeks, then give up that particular technique. I say this because writing is hard enough without adding an extra obstacle to your practice.

But if you ever work out the magic formula of which idea becomes a short, a medium or a long? Let me know!

Photo of Angela Slatter A.G. Slatter has won a Shirley Jackson Award, a World Fantasy Award, a British Fantasy Award, a Ditmar, three Australian Shadows Awards and eight Aurealis Awards. Most recently, All the Murmuring Bones was shortlisted for the 2021 Queensland Premier’s Literary Awards Book of the Year and the 2021 Shirley Jackson Award; The Path of Thorns won the 2022 Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy Novel and the 2022 Australian Shadows Award for Best Novel. She has an MA and a PhD in Creative Writing, is a graduate of Clarion South 2009 and the Tin House Summer Writers Workshop 2006. Angela’s short stories have appeared in many Best Of anthologies, and her work has been translated into many languages. She lives in Brisbane, Australia.
Women in SF&F Month: Week 3 Schedule & Week in Review
Apr
13
2025

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The fourteenth annual Women in SF&F Month continues tomorrow, with four new guest posts and a cover reveal/book giveaway coming up this week. Thank you so much to last week’s guests for their wonderful essays!

Before announcing the schedule, here are last week’s guest posts in case you missed any of them.

All guest posts from April 2025 can be found here, and last week’s guest posts were:

There is also currently a book giveaway for One Level Down by Mary G. Thompson, a science fiction novella with a simulated world. This is a US-only giveaway where two winners will each receive a trade paperback copy, and it ends on April 18.

And there is more this week, starting tomorrow! This week’s guests and feature are as follows:

Women in SF&F Month Schedule Graphic

April 14: A. G. Slatter (The Crimson Road, The Path of Thorns)
April 15: J.D. Evans (Mages of the Wheel)
April 16: Karin Lowachee (The Crowns of Ishia, The Warchild Mosaic)
April 17: Sara Hashem (The Jasad Heir, The Jasad Crown)
April 18: The Essential Patricia A. McKillip Cover Reveal and The Book of Atrix Wolfe Giveaway

Women in SF&F Month: Antonia Hodgson
Apr
10
2025

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Antonia Hodgson! She is the author of four historical crime novels and a soon-to-be released epic fantasy novel, The Raven Scholar. The first book in the Eternal Path trilogy, her upcoming novel is an excellent story with factions competing for a throne and a murder mystery that just opens up more and more new questions about the past. Her latest book will be out next week—on April 15 in the US and April 17 in the UK, including a special signed edition! I’m thrilled she’s here today to discuss a book with a female protagonist that was revolutionary when it was first published.

Cover of The Raven Scholar by Antonia Hodgson

About The Raven Scholar:

From an electrifying new voice in epic fantasy comes The Raven Scholar, a masterfully woven and playfully inventive tale of imperial intrigue, cutthroat competition, and one scholar’s quest to uncover the truth.

Let us fly now to the empire of Orrun, where after twenty-four years of peace, Bersun the Brusque must end his reign. In the dizzying heat of mid-summer, seven contenders compete to replace him. They are exceptional warriors, thinkers, strategists—the best of the best.

Then one of them is murdered.

It falls to Neema Kraa, the emperor’s brilliant, idiosyncratic High Scholar, to find the killer before the trials end. To do so, she must untangle a web of deadly secrets that stretches back generations, all while competing against six warriors with their own dark histories and fierce ambitions. Neema believes she is alone. But we are here to help; all she has to do is let us in.

If she succeeds, she will win the throne. If she fails, death awaits her. But we won’t let that happen.

We are the Raven, and we are magnificent.

The year, can you believe it, was 1999.

I was working in the editorial department of a London publishing house, newly promoted to one of those fiddly hybrid jobs with slashes in the title: Editorial Assistant/Assistant Editor/Dread Queen of the Photocopier.

‘You can commission a couple of titles a year,’ my boss’s boss told me. She was smoking at the time, because she smoked all the time. The rumour was, she smoked 100 cigarettes a day, which isn’t so much a habit as an occupation. Publisher/Smoker. This was the first time I’d been in her office, and before I could even sit down, she said: ‘Now, I don’t know anything about you. Tell me everything. Where do you see yourself in five years — no, wait, don’t answer that. Stupid question.’

‘You can commission a couple of titles a year,’ she said, which is where we came in. ‘If you can get them past The Meeting.’

The Meeting took place once a week in her office. A handful of senior editors would squeeze together around a table and discuss each other’s projects, under yet more clouds of smoke. The publisher had final say, but she encouraged Views.

This is the Fantasy Cafe, you are all presumably fantasy readers, so you will know what I’m describing here: an imperial court. Factions and feuds, favourites and not-so-favourites. A wry ambassador from the rights department. You may be amused to learn that the only editors exempt from The Meeting were the two SFF editors. Their genre was considered so bafflingly weird (and, crucially, so consistently profitable) they were pretty much left to their own devices.

Which inspired my own strategy. I needed to find my own commissioning territory — rich, fertile lands that I could love and nurture, but which were of no interest to more senior editors around that table. That way we could all stay friendly, or ‘collegiate’ as they say in publishing.

The first book I commissioned was a memoir by Bill Drummond, co-founder of the KLF. It’s a wonderful book, still in print twenty-five years later. The author — a committed psychogeographer — chose to work with me in part because one of his favourite bus routes had a stop right outside the office. As any contender fighting for the throne could tell you — in order to win you need to work hard, strategise and form alliances. But you also need a touch of luck.

The second book I commissioned was Bitten by Kelley Armstrong.

And at last — breathe a sigh of relief everyone — I have reached the actual point of this piece.

Cover of BITTEN by Kelley Armstrong

For those of you yet to read Bitten — it is the story of an investigative journalist called Elena Michaels, who is bitten (without consent) by her lover, transforming her into the only female werewolf in the world. After a painful and disorienting transition, Elena discovers she has supernatural strength, heightened senses and — this bit probably goes without saying — the ability to turn into a humungous and rather awesome wolf.

Wait a minute! I hear you say. This sounds like SFF!

Correct! It was also a thriller, set in contemporary Ontario. And there was sex! Sex scenes! In 1999! Hurray! ‘Mixed-genre’, publishing folk would have called Bitten back then, scratching their heads a little.

Wait another minute! I hear you say. Wasn’t Bitten published in 2001? What took you so long?

Correct again! (And impressive recall of the scheduling facts, dear reader.) It took me so long because — this is where I get to show off, forgive me — I bought Bitten on a partial manuscript; just a few sample chapters, maybe about twenty thousand words, if memory serves. This almost never happens. Least of all for a debut author, and a new editor — unheard of.

But I loved that partial. Loved it. I knew instantly that Bitten was special. Elena was special. We’d had Buffy on TV, Ripley and Sarah Connor in film. But on the page, she was so fresh — not least because she was narrating her own fascinating, dramatic story. Elena is bitten — an injury, an outrage is done to her. But she takes complete control of her situation. She holds her own against an entirely male society of werewolves — many of whom think she has no right to even exist. She takes them all on and she wins, on her own terms.

Maybe this sounds pretty familiar — expected, even — for a female protagonist in 2025. In 1999, I promise you, it was revolutionary. One thing I am still struck by, reading Bitten today — is how angry Elena is allowed to be. Openly, righteously furious. And I wonder — is that still pretty radical? Maybe not in fantasy novels, but here in the real world? The New York Times, reviewing Bitten at the time, said ‘[it] suggests that being a wolf may be more comfortable for a strong, smart woman than being human’.

Hmmm. So it does.

While working on this piece, I got in touch with Kelley. She remembers me acquiring Bitten in the autumn of ’99. In fact we’re both fairly sure I was the first person to secure the rights anywhere in the world — possibly before Kelley’s home country of Canada, and definitely before the US. I just leapt on it, like a werewolf leaping on its prey. Must have. Mine.

I was supported by my chain-smoking publisher. A female C.E.O — maybe it chimed with her, too. I know she liked my passion for it. And those SFF editors encouraged me too, because I was a genuine fan of the genre. (They knew this because I kept stealing books off their shelves. Which was easy to do because they’d removed the bright, fluorescent strip lights from their office and lived in a perpetual, noirish, anglepoised gloom. I am not making this up.)

Bitten sold nicely in its first edition and then took off in a big way in paperback, reprinting and reprinting. I ended up publishing all thirteen of the Women of the Otherworld novels, as the series came to be known. I even got to help name one — Waking the Witch — inspired by my love of Kate Bush. Kelley became a New York Times number one bestseller, Bitten became a TV show. Here in the UK, we sold hundreds of thousands of Kelley’s novels and short stories, and she’s still writing today of course.

What strikes me about this story, I suppose, is that I went looking for a niche and found a canyon. (Or a gorge, maybe? With a nice river running through? You get the idea.) By necessity, but also out of curiosity, I had to look outside the mainstream of the day. When I did, I discovered a book that spoke to literally millions of people around the world.

I’ve now written an epic fantasy of my own — The Raven Scholar. My female protagonist — Neema Kraa — may not have supernatural strength, but she has an inner determination, a certain grit, especially when she’s being underestimated, that I think Elena Michaels would recognise and approve of. And like Elena, she’s always up for solving a crime.

Unfortunately Neema also has a tendency to write interminable monographs that no one reads, with titles like Ancient Ketuan Cave Poems: Some New Insights into the Evolution of Chisel Techniques. I can only hope this essay of mine fares a little better, and that you have managed to read to the end. Don’t worry — we’ve almost made it!

Anyway, to finish on an upbeat note — I guess the moral of this story is that you don’t necessarily have to tread on toes, or steal other people’s territory, in order to succeed/win the throne/vanquish the dark forces of evil camped at your gate. There is another option. Stay open to opportunities, look in a few unexpected places, trust your own taste and judgement, and — most important of all — exist on the right bus route. Be lucky, in other words. May it find you when you need it most.

Photo of Antonia Hodgson by Rebecca Douglas
Photo by Rebecca Douglas		 Antonia Hodgson has written four acclaimed historical crime novels. She won the CWA Historical Dagger for The Devil in the Marshalsea, and her work has also been shortlisted for numerous awards including the Theakston Crime Novel of the Year.

Antonia’s first (unpublished) novel was a gothic fantasy and her dream has always been to write an epic series, given the chance. In 2020 she set to work on The Raven Scholar and is now busy finishing its sequel.
Women in SF&F Month: Lucia Damisa
Apr
09
2025

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Lucia Damisa! She is the coordinator of Path2pub (Path To Publication), a website where writers offer tips and advice while sharing about their journeys and experiences. Her first novel, A Desert of Bleeding Sand, was just released with Darkan Press at the end of March, and it will be joined by A Winter of White Ash, the second book in her five-book series, this summer. Inspired in part by Nigerian and other African mythology, her new novel blends historical and epic fantasy with romance and features a half-aziza who encounters a rival spy while on a mission to put an end to kidnappings at her academy. I’m thrilled she’s here today with “Yes, Nigerian Girls Read And Write Fiction. No, It’s Not A Waste Of Time.”

Cover of A Desert of Bleeding Sand by Lucia Damisa

Cover Artist: Olha Volkova

About A Desert of Bleeding Sand:

In a glittering Sahara Desert palace, many have come to die…

Zair, a reviled half-aziza with magical powers, is determined to stop the traitors attacking her academy and kidnapping its students—especially as her beloved sister is targeted. Sent to the palace during the king’s coronation, her mission is clear: unmask the culprits behind the disappearances. But when she crosses paths with Dathan, a rival spy from another academy, his hidden motives complicate everything.

As danger escalates and more students vanish, Zair and Dathan realize they must join forces to stop the looming threat. As they close in on the traitors, a shimmering attraction pulses between them, threatening to unravel their focus. In a palace where everyone covets power and night magic guards its halls, Zair must save her fellow students—and protect her heart from the one person she cannot afford to trust.

Yes, Nigerian Girls Read And Write Fiction. No, It’s Not A Waste Of Time.

A few months ago, I hitched a ride with an elderly neighbor and as he drove, he asked me what I did for work. I told him I’m a writer. He asked, “What kind of writer?” Refusing to fidget under his skeptical tone, I tilted my chin up a bit and said I wrote lifestyle articles for my clients, along with fiction books. He scoffed and told me to use my degree to go get a ‘real job’ at a news station.

Shocking? Well, it wasn’t to me. You could say I’ve had practice since that wasn’t the first time people have scoffed at the fact that I love to read and write. I have been asked, “What could a woman possibly be writing?” For many years, I feared I was the only Nigerian who enjoyed these activities.

In high school, we had a lot of readers since it was a boarding school and phones were not allowed. That was where I first discovered my love for reading with books like Purple Hibiscus and authors like Nora Roberts. Writing was also nurtured since my schoolmates and I quickly ran through the published novels we brought. I was the resident writer who was eager to entertain a lovely, enthusiastic audience.

But then I graduated, and people would stare at me like I had two heads when I chose to read rather than go to a party. They would even be more stupefied when I chose to write instead of chatter idly. It was quite isolating, but there were no stakes at the time, just like in high school. Instead, to stop getting those looks, my love for books and stories became a passion I kept to myself. Outwardly, I was the fashion- and photo-loving girl who did all the trendy things and got plenty of likes on Instagram. Indoors, I was the girl who wrote feverishly until 12:00am and then read a book until sleep claimed me. I used to think amusedly that I lived a double life and most people really didn’t know me at all.

Fast forward to 3-4 years later, I decided to pursue a career in writing and the stakes came. I put more effort and dedication into it. It meant something to me. The dismissive or doubtful comments began to sting. The isolated sense grew stifling until one day I went visiting and… I discovered that my cousin loved reading and writing! This is someone I see almost every year when my family visits theirs for big annual celebrations. But writing/reading were such uncommon subjects that we never spoke about it until that day. Shortly after, I realized my youngest brother was also a reader and writer. Somehow, without any prompting from me, he found his way to both—and also went through his phase as the odd Nigerian kid who loved books.

It grew from there. I had joined the Twitter (X) writing community and was shocked and amazed to find Nigerians with as much passion for storytelling as me. I opened a TikTok—very late—and found out that #Nigerianbooktok was a real thing. You cannot imagine my surprise! I was not odd or ‘too bookish’ for a Nigerian, as an acquaintance once said.

Saying that Nigerians don’t have the time to read or write actually perpetuates the notion that most Nigerians aren’t smart. It pushes the narrative that we’re only good with our hands, but don’t have intellectuals.

Writing and reading fiction is not a waste of time. Oh no, I have read books that literally changed my life, or reframed my way of thinking for the better. Many times when I speak on a range of subjects, people are surprised by the extent of my knowledge, but this is because of the fiction books I read. Romance, thrillers, historical fiction, and fantasy books. Not memoirs or self-help books or encyclopedias (although I do love my encyclopedias!).

I personally work through my beliefs, opinions, and experiences when I write. I aim to share uncommon facts/history/events with readers when I write. A DESERT OF BLEEDING SAND is magical and cinematic (as I’ve been told), but it was a book written first to give a voice to the Nigerian youths in a way that bad leaders cannot silence with social bans or harassment on the streets. It is me speaking up against the injustices that my generation faces. It’s me using my pen as a sword.

And even beyond that, books add joy to your day, whether you are reading or writing them. They transport you in a flash to different parts of the world, or to new and fascinating fantasy worlds! They enrich the imagination in the best ways, teach empathy, and more. All of these are important and make an author’s career as valid as that of any other profession.

So yes, there are Nigerians that like to read and write fiction. The books don’t fall from the sky into our laps in seconds. You wish! We writers spend months and years penning a thousand sentences, doing rigorous research, seeking inspiration, and editing/rewriting over and over again until our eyes cross. We fantasy writers are builders of worlds, entertainers, teachers, philosophers, marketers, and more.

It is hard work. And no, it is not a waste of time. :)

Photo of Lucia Damisa Lucia Damisa is a fantasy and romance writer who discovered a passion for writing at age 13 and has amassed stacks of notebooks filled with handwritten stories. After attending an Air Force boarding school and serving in the Navy, she graduated college with a BA in Mass Communication and has experience as a journalist and freelance writer for websites around the world. When she is not hanging out with her fictional friends and world building, she is reading or taking photographs of nature. She also runs the Path2pub website where she interviews publishing professionals to inform aspiring authors. You can find her on Instagram, TikTok, and X as @LuciaDamisa
Women in SF&F Month: T. Frohock
Apr
08
2025

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is T. Frohock! Her short fiction includes “Dark Places” (The NoSleep Podcast), “Every Hair Casts a Shadow” (Evil is a Matter of Perspective: An Anthology of Antagonists), “Love, Crystal, and Stone” (Neverland’s Library), and “La Santisima” (free on her website along with a couple others). She is also the author of Los Nefilim, a series of three historical fantasy novellas set in 1930s Spain, and Miserere: An Autumn Tale, an excellent character-driven dark fantasy novel that I appreciated for just how different it felt: from its take on the battle between heaven and hell to its main characters, who are a bit older than a lot of protagonists I’ve encountered in SFF. A fully revised version of her debut novel was released earlier this year, and I’m delighted she is here today to share about how she approached rewriting some of its characters in “The Women of Miserere.”

Cover of Miserere: An Autumn Tale by T. Frohock

About Miserere: An Autumn Tale:

Everything has a price, and those who deal with the devil pay dearly in this enthralling dark fantasy about redemption, sacrifice, and a Hell-bound battle between good and evil.

Exiled exorcist Lucian Negru made a choice that has haunted him for years. He abandoned his lover, Rachael, to Hell to save the damned soul of his sister, Catarina. But Catarina doesn’t want to be saved. Now a prisoner in his reviled sister’s home, Lucian is being used as a tool to help fulfill Catarina’s wicked dreams: unleash the demons of the underworld to wage a war above.

Lucian’s first step in thwarting Catarina’s plan is to make amends with the past. Escaping captivity, he is determined to find Rachael even if it means entering the gates of Hell itself. Only then does he cross paths with a young girl fleeing from her own terrors. With the frightened foundling in tow, Lucian embarks on a journey to right a terrible wrong, to protect the innocent, and to rescue the woman he loves.

But no one escapes Catarina’s wrath. She’s just as driven in her pursuit: to track down her brother wherever it leads. And when she finds him, and she will, she vows to turn his heart to glass, grind it to powder, and crush the souls of everyone he loves.

The Women of Miserere

When I decided to ask for a reversion of rights for my debut novel, Miserere: An Autumn Tale, I didn’t envision doing a complete rewrite. It was on my reread of the book that I saw issues with the characterization, especially with Rachael and Catarina, both of whom are mature women in their forties. In the first edition they acted more like women half their ages—Rachael came across as passive and resigned, Catarina was far too overt in her manipulations, and neither woman’s anger truly hit the page the way I wanted.

Rachael’s character required the most rewrites. She is a woman who refuses to be beaten by her circumstances, and rather than crawl into a hole to die, she is fighting the grave every step of the way. She refuses to abdicate her position at the Citadel, which is by no means a utopia of Christianity. Like any organization, there is political infighting, so she isn’t just struggling against the demon within her but also against those within the institution.

This was where I spotted another flaw. The novel was imbalanced in terms of gender, and Woerld’s women weren’t on the page prominently enough. I always envisioned them there, so I began looking for ways to change the genders of Citadel cardinals.

What a lot of people don’t realize is that Christianity had many women leaders in its early history. While the names of a lot of these women were either maligned, erased, or had their gender changed by scribes, many others are mentioned. Prior to the Orthodox takeover of the early Christian religion, women like Mary Magdalene, erroneously branded as the prostitute mentioned in Luke 7 in the fourth century C.E., was a prominent member of the early Christian movement. She was most likely a woman of independent means (Mark 15:40-41; Matthew 27:55-56; Luke 8:1-3; John 19:25) as were many of the other women who supported Jesus’s early ministry, such as Joanna and Susanna (Luke 8:1-3). The sisters Mary and Martha taught, took meals with the men, and participated in the lesson discussions. An unnamed Gentile woman taught Jesus that a ministry of God is not limited to certain faiths but to all who have faith (Mark 7:24-30; Matthew 15:21-28).

Nor did women stand down as the new religion spread. Women’s names appear in many early Christian documents: Mary Magdalene, Ammia of Philadelphia, Philumene, Perpetua, Maximilla, Priscilla (Prisca), and Quintilla. Prisca and Quintilla inspired a second century movement, Montanism, that lasted for at least four centuries. Montanist women were prophets, presbyters, and bishops. And let us not forget Thecla, who cut her hair, wore men’s clothing, and became a missionary apostle (Acts of Thecla).

Early Christian texts clearly stated that women were no strangers to the movement, and these are the women I envisioned when I wrote Rachael. In the revised edition of Miserere, I changed the gender of the leader of the Citadel armies from a man to woman. Gaya took a life of her own as I wrote her. She carries the strength Rachael so sorely needs at times. They are heart-sisters and best friends.

It was important to me to show the tight bonds women form with one another, because the stability of this friendship and found family is why Rachael hasn’t broken beneath the weight of her possession. But she is slipping away in spite of the people who support her. And she is angry—at herself, with Lucian, and for being played a fool. In the revision, Rachael’s anger shines much more brightly than it did in the first edition, most markedly in her early scenes with Lucian.

Which brings me to Catarina, whose anger in the first edition rivaled that of a Disney villain. In the revised edition, I wanted her to be the subtle manipulator, and I feel she comes across more like a classic abuser. She knows precisely what strings to pull to manipulate Lucian, who for the longest time was her chief enabler. Catarina has been successful until the opening of Miserere when Lucian finally makes his escape. But shifting gears is never a problem for people like her, and what others won’t give, she’ll find a way to take. To support her addiction to dominance, she is willing to part with the very emotions that make her human. More power is never enough until the thing she desires eats her alive.

So for those who loved the first edition of Miserere, I hope I was able to widen the scope somewhat, especially in terms of the women and their characterizations. The new edition feels true to my original ideas, and the narrative is a lot cleaner. It was worth the month I spent revising it and working through the edits.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Photo of T. Frohock T. Frohock has turned a love of history and dark fantasy into tales of deliciously creepy fiction. A real-life cyborg, T. has a cochlear implant, meaning she can turn you on or off with the flick of a switch. Make of that what you will. She is the author of Miserere: An Autumn Tale, Fully Revised and the Los Nefilim series: Los Nefilim, Where Oblivion Lives, Carved from Stone and Dream, and A Song with Teeth. She currently lives in North Carolina, where she has long been accused of telling stories, which is a southern colloquialism for lying.
Women in SF&F Month: Roanne Lau
Apr
07
2025

Women in SF&F Month Banner

Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Roanne Lau! Her epic fantasy debut novel, The Serpent Called Mercy, was just released in the US and the UK toward the end of March. Described as a book “where a debt-ridden slumdog joins an illegal monster-fighting arena for some fast coin, but quickly learns the most dangerous beasts are outside the ring,” her novel is also one that centers friendship. I’m thrilled she’s here today to share more about this aspect of her new book and why she thinks this platonic relationship resonates at this particular time in her essay “Crayon Trails: On Friendship, Grief, and an Unlikely Book Deal.”

Cover of The Serpent Called Mercy by Roanne Lau

About The Serpent Called Mercy:

The Witcher meets Squid Game in this Malaysian Chinese-inspired epic fantasy novel where a debt-ridden slumdog joins an illegal monster-fighting arena for some fast coin, but quickly learns the most dangerous beasts are outside the ring

Lythlet and her only friend Desil are shackled to a life of debt and poverty that she fears they will never escape. Desperate for money, they sign up as conquessors: arena combatants who fight sun-cursed beasts in the seedy underworld of the city.

Match-master Dothilos is initially enamored of Desil’s brawling reputation, but after seeing Lythlet lead the pair to triumph with her quick cunning, he takes her under his wing, scorning Desil. Ambition takes root in Lythlet’s heart as a life of fame and wealth unfolds in her imagination.

But Lythlet isn’t the only one out for coin and glory, and she soon finds herself playing an entirely different game—a game of politics and deception. As the cost of her ambition grows, she will have to decide if sacrificing her honor, and only friendship, is worth the chance to shape her own fortune.

A whirlwind of blood-pounding battles as characters grapple with their choices in the face of wealth and financial security, The Serpent Called Mercy‘s heart is the underlying, steadfast friendship between its protagonists.

Crayon Trails: On Friendship, Grief, and an Unlikely Book Deal

I have no idea how I got my book deal.

This isn’t an attempt at faux modesty where I go “aww shucks, how did little ol’ me get a book deal?”

I’m genuinely baffled at how, in the context of capitalism, I got my book deal now, of all times.

If you’re paying attention to publishing industry trends, you’ll know that romantasy is the subgenre du jour. Readers can’t get enough of it, and publishers are snapping up all the beautifully written romantasies they can, debuting some wonderfully talented writers ready to give readers what they want. Now is the era of hyphenated phrases like slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, and oh-my-god-there-was-only-one-bed.

Whenever these hyphen-heavy discussions happen, I find myself twiddling my thumbs awkwardly as I contemplate how my book The Serpent Called Mercy has literally none of these things. Hell, the only kiss my protagonist Lythlet gives is to a dog she adopts during the course of the story. She does get some consoling forehead smooches from her dearest friend Desil, though.

Romantic it might not be, but that friendship between Lythlet and Desil is the core relationship of The Serpent Called Mercy.

I started working on this book nearly a decade ago (I swear I’ll try not to take as long on my next book), and though it has changed dramatically over the years, one of the very few things that remained the same is this friendship. I wanted to craft a deeply intimate yet complicated connection between two individuals, a connection defined by loyalty, struggle, and choice.

I was happy to broaden the scope of the story to include familial bonds as well, another type of platonic connection that I love exploring—the notion of filial piety being something intrinsically rooted in my Chinese heritage. Yet romance was something I quite readily discarded for this book early on, with no desire to push Lythlet and Desil’s bond down that path.

Platonic bonds are the ones that build the foundation of who we are, after all. We enter this world, and our first connections are with our families. Then we get shipped out to daycare or preschool, and there, in our little bodies seated upon rainbow plastic chairs, we meet our next type of connection: a friend.

You’d glance at the kid next to you, and because society hasn’t had enough time to stamp any sense of shame or anxiety in you, you’d bark out your name, ask for theirs, and boom, new friend acquired. And if you discovered even one point of commonality (we both like crayons?!), then that was your best friend, the two of you leaving crayon doodles all over the place.

Those crayon trails could extend further into life, if you were careful about maintaining your bonds—and if fate let them continue. One of my closest friends now is someone I’ve known since I was eight, our friendship first taking root in Malaysia, before drifting apart for years as we shifted to different schools, only for us to miraculously bump into each other again over ten years later in Australia of all places, friendship rekindling and remaining strong to this day.

Yet fate hasn’t been as kind towards other crayon trails. Another childhood friend of mine, despite steadfast efforts to keep our friendship intact even when we lived in different countries, passed away in 2020 from a heart attack. A senseless, illogical death for a healthy young man. This was right before COVID hit us all, and the world shut down—so I wasn’t the only one with a grieving heart in those days.

Throughout the pandemic, I watched fate draw harsh ends to various crayon trails. (Oddly enough, never to COVID itself.) I lost my childhood friend to a heart attack. My beloved aunt, a cheerful travel companion and firm believer in Colin Firth’s supremacy as Mr. Darcy, to cancer. My grandmother, at long last, to a weary decade-long battle with Alzheimer’s.

I was working on one of my final revisions of The Serpent Called Mercy throughout this time, the pandemic and all these deaths looming in the backdrop of my thoughts. Looking back on it, I think it’s fairly evident that grief was weighing upon me as I replotted my book and tightened up my character arcs, striking as deep as I could into their psyches and focusing as much as I could on their interpersonal dynamics.

If my life were a stretched-out canvas, once an unblemished white when I was born, I can now see all the indelible marks others have made upon it, every individual grasping a crayon in their hand and leaving behind a waxy trail in their favourite colours, all the way through until they left my life—destiny taking us down different directions, or death coming to whisk them away to other worlds.

These crayon trails—some so painfully short, others blissfully long—reflect not just the fleeting nature of all these connections, but their capacity for transformation, the way they’ve re-rendered what was the once-blank canvas of my life into something more colourful.

Some deaths, I have come to peace with. Others remain difficult to contemplate beyond journal entries and private visits to crematoriums.

So, I return to my original quandary: how on earth did I, with my thoroughly unromantic book, get my book deal now of all times? Publishing is neither a charity nor a meritocracy—right now, romantasy is pulling in the big bucks, and the industry’s capitalising on it while it lasts.

With both hindsight and COVID bringing to mind the number 2020, the answer’s obvious to me now. I got my agent in 2022, as the world slowly crawled out of lockdown, and my book deal came a little later. After enduring a horrific, once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, we had all been forced to consider not just our mortality, but that of our loved ones. Agents, editors, readers—everyone who makes up the publishing industry, we all had the miserable experience of bonds being cut short by fate, colours choked out by a greying grief that remains to this day.

So maybe the reason why I got my book deal when I did was because somewhere in the cogs of the publishing industry, there was a recognition that we should celebrate every single bond while we still have it. Maybe the fact of the matter is that as beautiful as romantic love stories can be, there’s also a timeless quality to platonic love—to the family and friends who have made us who we are, who have added colour to our lives.

The Serpent Called Mercy celebrates all this. Lythlet and Desil’s earnest childhood friendship reflects the spirit of transformative love and loyalty that I’ve been lucky enough to experience in my life in various ways. Their individual struggles and desires, their shared hardships and victories, their choices to grow and change—they offer just a glimpse of the crayon trails etched into my personal canvas, drawn by every hand that’s ever touched my soul.

Photo of Roanne Lau by Caleb Lim Foong Kin
Photography by Caleb Lim Foong Kin		 Roanne Lau is the speculative fiction author of The Serpent Called Mercy. Her works are informed by her Chinese heritage and her experiences living in Malaysia, Australia, Taiwan, and Japan. She was selected for the Pitch Wars mentorship program in 2021—but the accomplishment she remains proudest of is being a finalist in a Lord of the Rings trivia competition when she was nine. Find her on social media (@roannelau) and subscribe to her newsletter at www.roannelau.com.