Category Archives: Sea Rose Red


I’ve been a bit quiet on the blog front.

I have 20 pages left on this round of revisions, so there’s why. Generally I find writing and revising all kinds of terrifying. There are just so many potential ways for me to fuck up, and I hate fucking up.

So instead of actually committing words to screen, no matter how shit they might be, I sit and gibber at a blank page and IMAGINE how shit they’re going to be.

This is all kinds of productive, I know.


I’ve been taking baby-steps, breaking the edits down into chunks, and just…working on one line at a time. it’s the only way I can deal with this sort of thing.

Now things are looking a bit more doable, and although it feels to me like all I’ve been doing is making up skipping-rope rhymes, I’m almost certain that I’ve done more than that. The book’s a slightly different shape now. *cocks head* yup. definitely has a changed look to it. I think it’s the hairpins.


War-singers, Saints and Readers

It’s an inspiration post. I used to do these a long time ago, and then I just stopped. Because I am lame.

But yeah, I’m back to trying to work out a way to bring all my reams of world-building into my novel without turning it into Oreyn: A History; or the birth of magic in a penal colony.

In the Hob-verse there are three accepted magics (there are loads of others, but being the prats they are, the ruling Lammers like to stick their fingers in their ears and go LALALALALA THERE IS ONLY US.)

Within the three groups there’s a hierarchy – castes among castes. Saints -seers – who are rare, and pretty much feared, worshipped, and secretly despised; War-Singers, who are powerful manipulators of the air, and who end up doing most of the defensive work (and ironically, mucking about with glass), and the poor little Readers, who come last and are tolerated only because they can read people’s auras, which makes them pretty useful in negotiation and spying.

In Sea Rose Red, my main character comes from a family of War-singers (well, most of them are War-singers, who cares about the rest, yanno?) and she was born with the power to manipulate the air.

and glass.

Although the glass never comes into it.

Because it has nothing to do with anything.

Except random world building.

But when I do picture the kind of glass I imagine in the city of Pelimburg, it’s pretty much this:

play your guitar like a martyr

Drafting a pitch/query thing for Sea Rose Red.

I can assure you that this is less fun than it sounds.

oh no wait…


(everyone please note how long my alcohol-free month lasted…)

Sea Rose Red

Beta feedback on SRR is starting to trickle in, and has been overwhelmingly positive.

This is scaring me a bit, because I don’t want to start convincing myself that agent M will love it and be able to sell it, when for all I know, the exact opposite could happen.

Instead I will tell myself that it is a book that I am proud of, and once I’ve made the changes that make it better, I shall send it off with the knowledge that whatever happens – I LIKE this damn book.

So there.


Pain looks great on other people. That’s what they’re for.

Yesterday I finally forced myself to rewrite chapter 10, so I guess this means I am over half-way through draft 2 of Sea Rose Red. Current word-count is standing at just over 66k, so I should hit at least 75 000.

In celebration(?), I give you this snippet:


We return from Lambs’ Island; baskets heavy, sand in our hair, vai on our breaths. Esta is excited, dancing along the causeway rocks with no care for the slippery seaweed, or the crunch of periwinkles under her bare feet.

I’ve never seen her so happy. For the first time, she looks her age and not like a dour little midget. Dash holds my hand the whole way back, and Lils and Nala help each other over the rocks, laughing as the wind whips their wet slips around their legs, snags at the finest tendrils of hair worked loose from their respective buns. The tickle of dream-miasma from the few loose coils is barely a feather-brush against my thoughts, lending the day a hallucinatory feeling, like I’ve been drinking ‘ink-laced via by the gallon.

“You best watch that hair, Lils, darling,” Dash yells at the two girls. “It’s drying.”

Lils pauses to twist the stray wisps into thin braids, and Nala helps her pin them tightly into her bun. They look like ghost girls on the rocks, with the sun low in the horizon. and the taint of the red death staining the waters behind them.

This book is bringing me down. Why can’t I just write something happy and fluffy for a change?


Watch me kill these goals.

So this morning Darling Reencakes set me a goal of 17.5 k on my WiP.

I am made of so much win.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter

17,551 / 50,000

There was drunken snogging of the heterosexual kind.

Next scene will be a party!

But not a tea party.