In the last eight years I’ve felt a need for fantasy, a genre I’ve always loved to read, but a new challenge for me as a writer. My last novel was contemporary, realistic (published in 2008). Since then life’s weather systems have felt unusually beyond-my-control. Parents with Alzheimers. Children turned adults. Health.
At my desk, fighting and resolving my hero’s battles in a world I create (and control) has been a source of immense satisfaction. And fun! But why fantasy instead of the other genres? Partly because the stakes are so big in the battle between good and evil. A troll’s foot hangs over her head and she must pick up the gauntlet or die.
Partly, too, because of personal taste, my fondness for languages and music. When the world-building is wonderful (Graceling, Girl of Fire and Thorns, Scorpio Races) I travel a strange road with the hero and return to ordinary life with a new companion. Her story is a melody I never forget. The language of fantasy, especially place names, evoke that melody. Something strange will happen in Bli-Bli. The gauntlet is thrown down in Mudjimba. And the only way to set things right is to go all the way to Maroochydore.