Jacqui Greaves Blog - JACQUI GREAVES

Villainous Authors

6/29/2025

I was scrolling, scrolling, scrolling through my socials one morning not long ago and a post popped up that recommended the Mists of Avalon by Marian Zimmer Bradley as a classic read. After muttering a few disgusted expletives, I had a quick flick through some of the comments. They varied between ‘great book and a must read’ to ‘fuck right off, the author is a monster’ along with a whole bunch of comments like ‘I loved this book, and it broke my heart when I discovered MZB was complicit with her husband’s child abuse.’

MZB isn’t the first author I’ve loved who turned out to be a fucking horrific human being and she’s certainly not the last. But reading the comments made me ask the question: What do you do when one of your favourite authors turns out to be a real-life villain?

When Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa was published, I was thrilled that my short story, Fires of Fate, sat cosied up next to a poem by Neil Gaiman. I was so excited that I even posted a video of me flicking between my story and his poem on my socials. Since then, there have been multiple accusations of sexual misconduct and assault against him, including more this year. Now, my story, in all its feminist rage, leans away from his poem, trying to distance itself from the space I was so proud to share. Being such a fan of Gaiman’s work, this betrayal of trust cuts extra deep.

I never read J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter series, although, I do confess to reading one of the books she wrote when she was pretending to be a man. I have numerous trans friends and acquaintances. So, why would I support someone who actively goes out of her way to incite hatred and denial of their right to exist, and uses the earnings from her books to support her crusade?

I’ve seen many arguments along the lines of ‘you can love the art but not the artist’, and, to an extent, that can be true, but where does the line between the two exist? In buying the art, you're supporting the artist. When you check the book out from the library, you're supporting the author. And, yes, streaming their movies / series is supporting the author. As much as I loved series 1 of The Sandman, I won't be watching series 2.

Do I think that J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman or the beneficiary of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s ongoing income give a shit about me not buying their books? Of course not, but the point is—it’s very important to me. I give a shit. And, if enough of us share that sentiment, then maybe they’ll notice.

There are so many talented and worthy authors out there writing amazing stories. Most of them aren’t problematic and, often, aren’t financially comfortable. So, why would I give my money and tacit support to those who are?

My answer is—I won’t.

Reclaiming the Crone

6/3/2025

Speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror etc) is all too often populated with strong, young characters. People and creatures breaking out of their adolescence and at the start of their adventures or approaching the prime of their lives. Where young women and girls and non-binary characters feature more often as main and secondary characters, the same can’t be said for older characters. It’s uncommon for the protagonist to be of advanced years, and rare if that character’s a woman.

Older characters are either cast in supporting roles, like the wise old wizard and the sweet grandmother, or as the evil antagonist, the barrier to youthful success. If the antagonist is a woman—the witch, the hag, the crone—she’s often portrayed as jealous and spiteful, corrupted by age and bitter with disappointment. The crone is frequently portrayed as trying to regain their youth at the expense of the victim (some princess who’s never the hero). Youth is the prize.

In fantasy, crones are depicted as deceitful and ugly old women who use their powers for malevolent purposes. Recall how the beauty of Snow White’s stepmother and Melisandre in Game of Thrones corrupts when their true natures are revealed. As always there are exceptions to generalised observations, examples include Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg from the Discworld series and General Leia Organa from Star Wars—these magnificent characters embrace and celebrate their age and don’t pretend to be anything but what they are—but they’re rare.

The crone, with some exceptions, is a woman to be feared.

In science fiction, crones as characters are often, non-existent or invisible. Check out the list of SciFi books featuring old women compiled by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley HERE.

It’s disappointing that our literary interpretations of alternate and future civilisations are, again and again, bereft of the aged. That there are so very few examples of older women cast as characters who captain spaceships or rule societies or play an active role in revolutions and rebellions. And yet, in terms of readership, women prevail. Read Nikky Lee’s summary of a 2018 James Cook University study HERE.

We need to do better. It’s bad enough having to live in a society that worships youth and strives to push back against the ravages of time through surgeries, fillers, pills and creams. We’re urged to disguise our age with makeup and hair dye, then accused of being deceptive. It’s an unwinnable battle.

I not only need my fiction to offer escape from reality, but I also crave to be represented in the books that I read. I’m not ashamed of my age—it’s hard won. My husband and my parents died younger than they should have—I celebrate every day that I’m gifted. But I’m very aware that I’m often no longer ‘seen’ or ‘heard’. We older women exist, we’ve seen and experienced a lot of shit, and we can’t be fucked putting up with it anymore.

When I set out to write the first novella in the Ghost Assassins of Bijou series, I did so with the conscious decision to portray the invisible crone. I went further than that—I weaponised her invisibility. Although it’s not always explicit, more and more of my recent stories feature older women as the main character. I’m reclaiming the crone as a feminist icon and whether they’re the hero or the villain depends on your point of view.

If you consider my characters to be evil, then I suggest that you should fear the crone!

Never Stop Learning

4/30/2025

I’ve been a life-long learner. Beyond my formal education at school, teachers’ college and university, I retained my hunger to grow and expand my knowledge. Over the years I've:

Taken night-classes in art.
Learned to drive a bus.
Become fluent in French.
Qualified (in French) as a marine 3rd engineer.
Attended marine science conferences on subjects beyond my field.
Gone to farming seminars.
Travelled.
Taken courses in photography.

Just over a decade ago, following a major sharp turn in my life, I decided to write my way back into sanity. For me, it was only natural that I take courses, read books, listen to podcasts, and attend workshops and conferences to learn about the craft and art of writing.

Part of learning is recognising the point at which you can start to give back. In science, that came early, as it’s expected of graduate students to present seminars to their peers, and to present their findings at the conclusion of their research. As such, I learned to put together an interesting presentation in logical order. I’m grateful for that skill—it’s served me well.

The very first writers’ workshop I was invited to present was on Writing Emotion. It wasn’t a subject I’d given any deep thought to, but it’s something that I do in my writing. Being me, I dived head-first into research. First, I combed the internet for tools and practices and methodologies that would complement my inherent skills and knowledge. Then, I critically analysed books and stories that caused me to have an emotional response.

I learned so that I, in turn, could teach.

The workshop was a success, and I received lovely feedback from the participants. Since then, I’ve presented on short stories, how to write good sex, speculative fiction, and the impacts of AI on writing to numerous writing organisations. I would never call myself an expert on any of these, but I am good at research and sharing what I learn along the way. This has given me the confidence to volunteer as a presenter or panellist at every subsequent writer’s conference that I’ve attended.

Being a panellist is a whole different ballgame, as it depends on a pre-agreed set of parameters that flex and change over the course of the discussion. The mediator can help or hinder the panel. I was once told by a mediator that if I didn’t critically assess movies as I watched them, then perhaps I shouldn’t have volunteered for the panel—it was a panel on writing. At the time I was embarrassed—now, I’m just annoyed that I didn’t tell him to fuck off (another learning moment!). That experience didn't put me off, but I'm now much better at ensuring I understand the scope of the panel in advance.

Anyway, all this to encourage you to stay open to learning. No matter how much of an expert you are in your field, there’s always something new or different out there that you can learn. And honestly, my university was right, one of the best ways to learn is to teach. Don’t be afraid to volunteer to present a subject to your local writing (or whatever) group. Become the expert! (Alternately, get in touch, maybe I can help!)

If nothing else, learning is great for your brain.

Finding a Character's Voice

4/1/2025

What makes each character in a story shine? In part, it’s their voice. Voice is how characters wield dialogue, and it should be supported by the narrative. When reading a character’s internal thoughts or dialogue, we should recognise them. Their voice should be distinct not only from the other characters, but also from the author’s voice.

When faced with someone playing their music too loud, one character says, “Would you mind turning that down a little please?” While a different character shouts, “If you don’t turn that shit down right now, I’ll fucking do it for you!” Straight away, we can differentiate the characters and not only surmise something about each of them but also about their relationship with the person playing the music. These characters employ their dialogue in very different ways — one polite, the other aggressive.

It's obvious that a cleaner on a generational spaceship woken from cryo-sleep to clean up after a bloody coup will speak in a very different way to a witch offering a potion to a lovelorn knight. The differences will exceed their locations, languages and accents. Almost everything will be different: the tone, urgency and rhythm of their speech; the vocabulary they use; the structure of their sentences. But what if it’s two cleaners woken from cryo-sleep? How can their voices be distinct?

The background of a character should be reflected in their voice. Their age, gender, culture, and education will influence their word choice. Think about the way older men often interrupt and speak over young women. The vocabulary of working-class people shouldn’t be simplified or dumbed down — but it should be used differently to upper management and company owners. In the same way, racist tropes should be avoided. It’s enough to say ‘She spoke with a French accent’, rather than…ow you say?…err…to write in ze way she en fait speaks…bah dis donc!

The temperament of a character influences not only the words they use, but the way they deliver those words. When they get angry do they shout and annunciate every single word? Perhaps they stutter when nervous or afraid? Much is revealed about a character by their tone of voice — are they arrogant or timid by nature? What happens when a character finds themselves outside their comfort zone? Do they talk more or go quiet? Are their sentences shorter or do their sentences trail off to silence? All of this tells us something about the character and sets them apart from the crowd.

Turns of phrase, tics, and slang are very effective in distinguishing characters, but they should be used judiciously and not over laboured. The same applies to habitually mispronouncing words. I once had a conversation with a woman who talked about visiting the ‘gully’ on an airplane, it took me a while to figure out she meant the ‘galley’. The same woman was someone who if a sentence only needed ten words, then she’d use thirty. If I was to write her as a character, the obvious foil to her verbosity would be to have a character who only spoke in clipped sentences, grunted or used gruff words.

Describing a character’s body language through narrative is another way of distinguishing their voice. Do their emotions play out on their face or are they unreadable? How a character walks and moves can tell us a lot about them and can differentiate them from other similar characters. Another physical attribute that distinguishes a character is their speaking voice. Is it low or high-pitched, raspy, booming or soft? The discordance of a character’s speaking voice being at odds with their physical appearance creates a unique and memorable character.

Every character, even minor ones, should have their own voice. One of the best ways to research character’s voices is to people watch. Sit in a café or a park or wherever people congregate and pay active attention to the conversations around you. Take notes.

Why Write Novellas?

3/2/2025

In the 11 years I’ve been writing fiction, I’ve only completed one full length novel. The two others I started sit stranded at around 30,000 words — the characters fated to remain frozen mid-action surrounded by the crumbling facades of my world-building. I just can’t muster the commitment needed to revitalise them. Yet, in those same 11 years, I’ve written a multitude of short stories, numerous poems and seven novellas.

When setting out to write the Ghost Assassins of Bijou series. I made the deliberate choice to write them as novellas. Each of the five stories are between 22-29K words in length, so roughly 100 pages in book form with a reading time of 2 - 4 hours. While each novella stands alone, as a series, they read as a layered and complex novel.

In a 2014 essay, Allan Gurganus said, “A novella, containing the best of poem and novel, gives us the whiplash of one and echoes of the other.” I find beauty in the stark brevity of novellas and prefer the sharp stab of emotion to the drawn-out torment of longer-form novels. Then again, I also rip off plasters and dive into freezing water…so my reading preferences reflect my life-style perversities.

When I consider my favourite reads from the last few years many of them are novellas:
To Be Taught if Fortunate by Becky Chambers
This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
All Systems Red by Martha Wells
Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

None of this is to say that I don’t like reading novels or even sagas, I do, but I prefer the shorter form. I’d rather read a series of short books set in the same world / universe, than a seemingly endless saga rolled into an enormous single offering. I’m easily bored and often skim-read large swathes of a saga to leap from one action scene to the next. Whereas, I'll cling to every nuance and word of a well-crafted and perfectly formed novella.

As a writer, the novella has given me the freedom to be innovative in how I use words to create emotions and responses. In the Ghost Assassins of Bijou novellas, I’ve made use of songs and haiku to invoke a sharper emotional response than could be achieved with even the most beautifully crafted paragraphs of prose and dialogue. I've also experimented with different points of view.

I don’t consciously follow formats such as the Hero’s Journey or the 3-Act Structure when I’m writing a novella. This doesn’t mean there isn’t a flow to the storyline or a lack of tension, it just means the points of high emotion, high tension and relief occur organically and often in ways that aren’t expected or anticipated. When read as a series, the high points hit differently.

Like Martha Wells’ Murderbot Diaries and Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti Trilogy, the Ghost Assassins of Bijou is a series of novellas. In this way the series offers the complexity of a novel — deep world-building enriched by multiple points of view and subplots weaving through an overarching storyline — with the artistry of a poem.

Novellas offer a deeper exploration than a short story, while being more focussed than a novel. Our minds are busy, and our senses overwhelmed. Every day we’re assailed by an avalanche of unfettered information that we must critically assess to determine what's true, what's important, and what's critical. When I read a book, I want to escape and be distracted from the horrors and mundanities of our increasingly dystopian world.

So, when I write a book, I write it for me. And this is why I write novellas.

A Year of Writing with a Critique Group

2/2/2025

Just over a year ago, I committed to writing an additional four novellas in the five book Ghost Assassins of Bijou collection by year’s end. That meant committing to writing a novella, of around 25,000 words, every three months. I’m an inherently lazy human being and a slow writer, so the task I’d set was daunting.

Then, by the delightfulness and serendipity that is fate, I was invited to join a critique group with two local speculative fiction authors – both of whom are vastly more experienced, lauded and awarded than I am. We meet for two hours every fortnight to critique and offer feedback on each other’s work. When we can’t meet in person, we meet online and once or twice we’ve relied on electronic feedback only.

Despite our early decision to limit our submissions to 4000 words, or a short story, that didn’t last past our first get together. I’ve routinely bombarded them with over 10,000 new or rewritten words each session. They never complain (well not to me anyway!) and at times were disappointed when I didn’t give them the next chapter.
It’s been amazing! I’ve learnt so much.

When I look back at their comments from the beginning of last year, the pages of my manuscripts are littered with corrections to grammar and sentence structure, and comments pointing out inconsistencies and problems with my plotting. The most recent feedback was much less grammatical, and more about tweaks to the storyline aimed at keeping the reader satisfied. I still can’t quite get my head around run-on sentences but I’m much better at comma placement.

My critique crones have gifted me ideas for literary devices to keep dry details out of the prose and others that weave poetry into the prose in ways that I never would have had the courage to attempt on my own. They’ve kept my characters’ voices true and the plot holes tiny. Best of all though, they’ve littered my pages with ticks and scrawled love-hearts in the margins when they find a phrase or section that they enjoy.

For the first few months I was terrified I was bringing very little to the group. I’m neither an expert in grammar nor spotting plot-holes and need time to chew over new ideas – but I have other skills. I’m good at world-building and character development, I possess a strong aversion to the overuse of -ly adverbs, and I know when a story needs more tension. I also do my best to be generous with ticks and love-hearts in the margins.

So – did I meet my goal of writing four novellas in a year?

Not quite.

With rewrites for consistency through the collection, it took an extra month. I’m now in the process of doing final edits and lay-out and writing the synopses for each novella and one for the collection.

Could I have done it without my critique crones?

Maybe.

But, without them, it would have been a set of pretty stones rather than a collection of polished jewels.

Storytelling as Resistance

12/1/2024

For many of us, there is much in the world to be afraid of as 2024 stumbles to a close.

War – genocide – mutating viruses – religious fundamentalism – fascism – rampant capitalism – misogyny – racism – trans & homophobia – exploitation – climate change.

Then there’s the environment…our air, oceans, rivers, land and biota are being polluted, exploited, destroyed and rendered extinct.

It’s a lot.

It’s too much and it’s understandable to feel paralysed and overwhelmed. I faltered and came close to crumbling a month ago. I’m just one person, after all, and I couldn’t see how anything I did could make a difference.

Then somewhere, I forget where, I read the three words that entitle this blog. Storytelling as resistance. Those three words sparked a realisation that in dark times, we need stories that challenge the darkness. I hunted for support to fuel my tiny spluttering spark, and I found it from two writers — both women of colour. This came as no surprise, as women of colour face additional layers of overt oppression, discrimination and violence.

A quote from Toni Morrison reminded me not to fall into the trap of doomscrolling and constantly following the news headlines. “I know the world is bruised and bleeding and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence.” I’m not always good at this, but I try to limit my exposure.

I don’t watch televised news broadcasts, except under exceptional circumstances. It reminds me too much of the Romans in their amphitheatres, revelling in the gore of gladiator against gladiator, animal slayings and human executions. I do not wish to revel in human misery and disaster presented to me in bite-sized packages by a media who seeks ratings at the cost of dignity and the truth.

Toni Morrison also offered a call to action. “There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.” Writing is something I can do.

The real inspiration for me to keep writing came from Edwidge Danticat, who added fuel to my flame. She reminded me that stories are powerful, and can change lives. She said, “Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously…knowing in part that no matter how trivial your words may seem, someday, somewhere, someone may risk his or her life to read them.” I love this.

We never know who will need the words we write. While I might write words as an act of rebellion, someone, somewhere, sometime might read those words to survive. Writing rebellious stories is a thing I can and must do — it’s my human obligation.

So, with renewed vigour and fire in my belly, I am writing. And, in the words of Margaret Atwood, “A word, after a word, after a word is power.” But I also want to say, this is me and my way of coping. We all have to find our own way forward, there is no right or wrong path. So, you do what you need to do.

When I wrote the first Ghost Assassins of Bijou novella in 2023, I wanted to write a commentary on the invisibility of older women in society. Through 2024, I’ve written a further four novellas in the intertwined collection and the themes have expanded.

Written from a very solid feminist perspective, the collection challenges the rise of fundamentalism, extremism and misogyny, it explores self-determination, otherness, PTSD in women and colonialism and addresses the impact of sexual and physical violation.

I believe that what I’ve written is more important now than when I started it. It's my sincere hope that in these dark times, readers will find hope within the pages of the Ghost Assassins of Bijou. Well, when the collection is published of course — but that’s a story for another day!

Monsters From the Deep

10/31/2024

In the antipodes, Halloween is out of season, it’s spring here and all about rebirth and hope. So rather than talk about spooky things, this month I’ve mixed my interests in monsters and marine critters to talk about monsters from the deep.

As I’ve been writing the initial five Ghost Assassins of Bijou novellas, I’ve leaned into my training and expertise as a marine biologist. Bijou is a marine planet, with an equatorial archipelago of extinct volcanic islands making up the minor terrestrial habitat. Much like we Earthlings, the human inhabitants of Bijou are limited to the land and the coastal fringes and surface of the ocean. As the stories have progressed, it’s become obvious that, also like us, the human residents of Bijou know next to nothing about most of their planet. Unlike us, however, they do have relationships with the sentient inhabitants of their ocean—especially with the belosa, a cuttlefish-like creature, some of whom choose to be living spaceships for the ghost assassins.

I could have created an entirely new creature to fill this role, but the shape and motion of cuttlefish lends them beautifully to being spaceships. They’re also intelligent, have distinct methods of communication and are well studied. This made it (relatively) easy to take an extant creature and develop it into one of science fiction. And there’s so much more life in the depths that we can use in this way.

The deep sea is Earth’s largest habitat, offering a massive 97% of the habitable space available to life on our planet. Which is remarkable, given how little we know of the lives and range of creatures that exist there. It’s estimated that we know less than 10% of the existing species of the deep sea. What monsters lurk beyond our reach and understanding?

Let’s set the scene in our search for monsters from the deep.
The deep sea is defined as beyond the reach of light, on average this happens at around 200m of depth. No plants live beyond this depth. The water is cold (~2°C), and the pressures are immense (an additional atmosphere of pressure for every 10m of depth). Around 70% of the sea floor is abyssal plains, but there are a multitude of other habitats including: seamounts, canyons, troughs, ridges, cold seeps, hydrothermal vents, polymetallic nodule fields, and asphalt fields or brine pools. Life in these habitats requires extreme (to us) adaptations.

Many animals at these depths have foregone the need to move. Why waste energy on locomotion when the food comes to you? Others have abandoned the sun as their source of energy and rely instead on the energy contained in inorganic chemicals that leach through Earth’s crust at vents and seeps. Oxygen isn’t always required, and life has found ways to exist in extremes that should kill. Creatures are diverse, often long-lived, and can be surprisingly large.

Onto the monsters!
Let’s start with Cnidarians (the C is silent)—jellyfish, corals, anemones and hydroids. These creatures have a mouth that also serves as their anus, they also have muscles, reproductive organs and tentacles. Already so much fun. But best of all, they kill with an explosion of tiny poison-tipped harpoons. Imagine visiting a strange planet, where simply brushing past a delicate feather-like shrub results in your body being swamped with a neurotoxin that stops your heart. The feathers wrap around you and the creature spends the next century feasting on your remains. Or your spaceship emerges from hyper-drive into the slow drifting tentacles of a massive space-jelly. There is no escape. Death is slow in the gut sac behind the creature’s dual-function mouth/arse—but it’s inevitable.

I’m not going to bother talking about marine worms, because…well…Dune. We all know what that looks like. All I’ll add is that the penis worm doesn’t hunt—it waits. To capture passing soldiers, the penis worm vomits out its toothed throat then retracts it, dragging the flailing prey with it. Death by penis worm—so noble.

Molluscs include a wide variety of life-forms including snails (gastropods); clams (bivalves); chitons; and squids (cephalopods). This group is rich pickings for premade monsters filled as it is with active predators armed with deadly toxins, camouflage and more terrifying tentacles. Probably the most frightening thing about molluscs is the weird feeding organ they all possess. It’s called a radula, a movable belt covered with teeth. The radula can scrape flesh from bones, drill holes in the hulls of space stations and inject toxins into unwary interplanetary explorers. Abandon all hope, weary travellers.

Crustaceans are equipped with many limbs. So many limbs. Delicate antennae that detect movement, taste, electrical currents to focus the hunt. Legs and more legs enable them to skitter over the barriers protecting a newly established colony. They swim through space and time using the oar-like appendages under their tails. Hidden beneath desert sands, they’ll spy on you with stalked eyes, then snap you up with claws and pincers that hold, slice and dice. Some of them move so fast they can teleport. You’ll never see the parasite before it steals your body for its own purposes—leaving you a more witless zombie than usual.

Next on our list of monsters from the deep are the armoured echinoderms—starfish, sea cucumbers, urchins, brittle stars, crinoids and the like—distinct in the animal world with their 5-sided symmetry. Ravenous and relentless they glide across the vast freeze-dried plains on hydrostatic tube feet. They’re impervious to your weapons. When they catch you—and they will catch you—they’ll hover over your trapped body and extrude their stomach out through their mouth. Once you’re digested, they draw their stomach inside and glide away. Behind them, the hollow husk of your once perfect body wafts in the currents of an alien breeze.

When you stare out at the night sky, filled with stars and mysteries, some of those stars aren’t what you think they are. Giant angler fish drift the universe on cosmic tides, their bodies invisible against the blackness of the void. Some of those distant stars are bioluminescent lures, hung out to draw in unsuspecting colonists searching for planets within the Goldilocks range. Once the unspeakably enormous maw closes its needled teeth around your interstellar generation-ship, the lights wink out—forever.

If, these macro monsters don’t offer you the perfect character for your next space horror…then what about the dangers of the micro monsters of the deep. Imagine bacteria that deplete the sulphur in your skin, leaving you with lesions that can’t heal and a compromised metabolism. Maybe the archaea in your gut are replaced by those that feed on, rather than produce, the methane you require for digestion? Deep sea viruses are more likely to be lysogenic, meaning they replace sections of your DNA with their own to reprogramme your metabolism for their own needs and they need to be cold…so very, very cold.

Honestly, I could write so much more but I think I’ve made my point. There’s no need to reinvent biology in the search for monsters. The way I imagine and extrapolate monsters from living creatures is, if it can swim it can probably also fly, if it can live in the dark expanse of the ocean, it’ll do just fine in space and if it’s small it can become very, very big.

Need more inspiration? Then, let your fingers lead you down a penis wormhole of online research. Or head to your local library and flick through any number of books about sea life (because it lives in my bookshelf, I referred to Peter Batson’s 2003 edition of, Deep New Zealand: Blue Water, Black Abyss, in my research for this blog). Finally, if you enjoy a field trip head to your nearest aquarium or marine research lab on an open day.

Memory, Self and Character Arcs

10/1/2024

One of my recent characters was the recipient of the memories of others. She had trouble distinguishing her own memories from those that weren’t her own. At times, she questioned who she was and struggled with her new identity.

So, to inform my writing, I spent some time reading and thinking about memory and the self. We rely heavily on our memories to tell us who we are, but there are some problems with that. Memories aren’t reliable and even if we think they are, they can only tell us who we were.

[Disclaimer: None of my musings consider the impact of brain injuries or disease on a person’s memory and sense of self. While both of those exist in my family, the following is based on my personal experience with my own memories and what they mean to my sense of self.]

I’ve got clear memories of events from my childhood that I just didn’t experience. What I actually have of those events are photographs and stories told over and over by my parents. So, I know that, for me, all it takes to construct a false memory is a visual cue and a good story.

At the other end of my memory spectrum, I’ve got massive gaps. I ran into a friend a while ago and they were recounting something we’d shared that had a profound impact on their life. I have zero recollection of whatever it was, even now after they reminded me…it’s a gigantic black hole. It was awful, and it hurt their feelings that I couldn’t remember.

I think because I’m a visual learner unless there’s a visual reminder, or a powerful emotional connection to the moment, event or activity, then it just doesn’t stick. So, if I’m the just sum of my memories then, at best, I’m a patchwork of half-truths and gaping holes. Surely, I’m more than that?

One thing I’m certain of is that I’ve occupied this body through everything. I know it well and can point to every scar and tell you where I was and what happened. This body hasn’t always served me well—my periods were debilitating, and the night-sweats of perimenopause made me question my will to live—but it’s mine. Isn’t it?

It turns out it’s not. By this point in my life, every cell I was born with has been replaced around eight times. This is not the same body that learned to swim in a tidal channel on the mudflats. It’s not the same body that lost its virginity on a picnic blanket under a grapefruit tree. It’s not even the same body that danced under a glacier in Antarctica. I don’t possess the same body I was born into, but the elements remain.

So, am I just a bunch of memories that can’t be trusted and a body that’s changed beyond recognition? Of course not. I’m so much more.

I’m also the product of an accident of birth. Born into a skin, culture, country and time that affords me advantages so many others don’t have. But I’m of a sex that came with hidden challenges. I’m driven by ever-changing goals, fuelled by unstable emotions, and a dynamic set of beliefs and values. I’m the forever-fluid shape of all of those things and more—a package consisting of constant change and potential.

Human beings, along with all living beings, are not static. Even rocks change over time!

How does this apply to writing?

The characters we write should change across the trajectory of even the shortest story. Their memories should be questionable and their bodies and minds messy with scars both literal and metaphorical.

Newton’s Third Law of Motion states that for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction. This principle is useful in developing characters. If a character experiences great pain, then they should become averse to painful situations. If a character finds unbridled joy, then they must also suffer the depths of despair. We need to write these reactions into the character to show how they evolve.

We must allow our characters to grow, or even diminish. Not everyone becomes a better person. Some people thrive in adversity, while others collapse. Our characters should question themselves. What they need from the world should change as the story progresses. The character in the first sentence, should not be the same as the character in the last sentence and we should understand why.

My character, the one who spawned this existential exploration of self, changed enormously over the arc of the story. She had to. Even though she struggles to manage the multitude of ‘other’ memories, she’s retained her sense of self. At the end of the story, she’s both physically and mentally altered and is still grappling with those changes. She's not a better person, nor is she worse but she's different. Despite the changes, she remains unique and distinct from the other characters, and most important, we still recognise her.

Advice for New Writers

8/31/2024

I know what it’s like. You have a book inside you. It’s burning to get out. So, you write it. Your family and your best friend love it. It’s the best story ever written. It’ll be a best-seller and made into a film. A famous actor will play the lead and become your new best friend. You’ll buy a mansion and travel first class. The world will be your oyster…

If only publishers and agents would stop ignoring your emails.
If only publishers and agents would stop rejecting your 185,000-word manuscript.
If only you could afford another $5,000, so the hybrid publisher, who approached you, can publicise it.
If only someone would buy your self-published book with the home-made cover.

Where did it all go wrong? You cry.

Probably at the very beginning!
Here’s some lessons I've learned during my writing practice - some the hard way, others through the generous advice of fellow authors.

Join an organisation dedicated to writers. It might be a regional or national group, like Writers Victoria in Australia or New Zealand’s Society of Authors (NZSA). Or maybe a specialised group like SpecFicNZ, for writers of speculative fiction, or HWA, for those who write horror. If that’s too much, see if you can find a local group of writers who meet in person. All of these will provide various levels of support, advice and training to assist you on your writing journey.
Take advantage of in-person and online workshops and seminars to learn about craft and the publishing world. These are also opportunities to make connections with like-minded authors.
Find a critique group. Friends and family don’t want to hurt your feelings or crush your dreams. Other writers will give you honest feedback on all aspects of your writing (grammar, plot, characters, voice etc). This should be a two-way exchange; you help them, they help you. Everyone learns and grows.
Pay for a professional editor. Unless you have mad editing skills, it’s almost impossible to pick up your own mistakes. If you can’t afford to pay, then at the very least, buy a great self-editing guide and work your way through it with rigour. My suggestions are: Mark My Words by Lee Murray and Angela Yuriko Smith, and; Self-Editing For Fiction Writers by Browne and King.
Do your research. This applies to every aspect of your writing life. Research your genre - understand the tropes, expected length, style of cover. Research your market - who’s your audience (age, sex), what makes your story stand out from the crowd. Research agents and publishers who might be interested in your work - read their requirements carefully and follow them to the letter.

If you can’t find answers or still have questions, then ask for help from the contacts you’ve made. But and this is important, be respectful of their time. If they say no, be gracious and move on. It’s hard when you don’t know what you don’t know, and we all make mistakes. The trick is to know when to take a pause, set your ego aside and learn.