Greetings! I write fantasy fiction of many shades (urban fantasy, high fantasy, historical fantasy) but have been known to dabble in other spec fic genres (science fiction, horror) and dip my toe in cross-genre work. The current novel-project is a high fantasy buddy cop story with blood-magic, memory-trading dragons, and serial killers. My short fiction tends to fluctuate, but lately, there’s been a lot of dead people—ghosts, zombies, vampires, and the like. I have a soft spot for dragons and immortals of any kind.
Current New Thing(s):
According to her employers, Threnody Winters carried hope in her hands.
To her, it just looked like a sample canister. And after four interstellar jumps, six local space transfers, countless station layovers, and lines—oh, so many lines—she was starting to wish she could put the damn thing down.
She heaved her side-satchel onto the duraplastic table. The customs officer—a middle-aged person with short-cropped hair, red-brown skin, and station coveralls—popped the magnetic seals on the bag and started passing their hand-scanner through Threnody’s luggage.
The bag had started out crammed, the seals strained to bursting. A change of clothes, toiletries, an insta-shower box complete with shampoo compatible with most station hygiene units, data chips with preloaded books and an immersive city builder simulator (Watch Your Utopia Grow in Real-Time!), petty cash chits in every mainstream denomination for the vending bots, an expanding pocket tent, and lightweight bedding—everything one might need for a layover in a station port.
Now? Now she could probably leave it in a shuttle kiosk station and wouldn’t miss it. At least she didn’t have the tent anymore; that had been confiscated by the hostel on Ophi Station. She’d figured she’d lose it, but not before the halfway point in her journey.
So close. So close to delivering her burden. So close to completing this job. One last local space tug and then…— “Oresa”Beyond the Stars: Infinite Expanse (August 2020)
Anilay’s thumb hovered over the green call icon. Come on, girl! Tap into your inner succubus and be confident! Be daring! Come on, just call already!
Sadly, her inner succubus seemed to be on vacation in Tahiti.
Anilay huffed. Fifteen minutes, she’d been sitting here. Fifteen minutes of the metal frame of the café chair digging into her rump, her iced coffee sweating in the heat, her panini chilled to lukewarm, and all she had to show for it was a number on the screen and acid churning in her gut.
She considered asking the demon sitting at the next table over to initiate the call for her but, no, she was supposed to be a professional now. Professionals made their own saints-blessed calls. She took a sip of her iced coffee and hit the button…Translunar Travelers Lounge, Issue 3 (August 2020)
The as of yet unnamed new book is being rather suspiciously cooperative. I’m mildly concerned. *side-eyes new book*
Dead God’s Bones, the high fantasy buddy-cop drama of the (still) monstrous word count, is fast approaching its initial foray into the query trenches. Aiming for June.
Retired from querying: In Blood, a very noir-ish urban fantasy set in Chicago with blood-drinking, marrow-eating immortal draugr, shapeshifting werewolf-esque people, secret societies, humans with sucky superpowers, assassination plots, and political backstabbery. Not quite sure what I’m going to do with this one ultimately, but right now it’s sipping margaritas on a beach, working on its tan.
- GenCon 2021 –tentative–