About Beaulah

Librarian and author, living in Christchurch.

Unorthodox – a Fantasy Short

Unorthodox was written in response to the Writing.com competition: Fantastical love – Love between two mythical creatures (non humanoid – Dragon Unicorn, etc) or love between a human and a mythical being (humanoid – Elf, dwarf, fairy etc).

I won first place =)

* * *

Unorthadox

by Beaulah Pragg

“You alright hun?” Mum rubs my arm. I shrug, staring at my untouched fish pie.

“Leave her be, Maggie,” Papa says.

I gaze past Mum to her prized strawberry plant, sitting by the open balcony door—the only part of our home that sees any sun. Sheets flutter on the line strung between our balcony and the Tors’ house across the road. The breeze brings a whiff of sewage. I crinkle my nose.

“Shut the door, would you?” Papa says, mirroring my expression.

“It’s far too hot,” Mum protests.

“I’ll do it.” I jump to my feet, seeing Adrek Tor watering his mother’s coriander on their balcony. My friends at school say he’s an outsider. They laugh at his black hair, sticking out like wires and the shadow of a beard that never stays gone. He shaves every morning and will sneak off at lunch to do it again. He can’t help it. He’s a dwarf.

“Genny’s in love,” my brother sings from the dinner table.

“Shut up, Billy,” I slam the door. It shakes the whole house.

“Genevieve,” Papa growls. His eyes hold back a tempest.

“Sorry, Papa.” I duck my head and sit down without another word. Sweat beads on my forehead. I wipe it away, wishing I could murder the fly buzzing around the kitchen. This fish pie looks less and less appetizing.

“Are you finished?” Mum asks.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll eat it.” Billy reaches forward.

“You’ve already had two portions.” Mum takes my plate over to the bench. She scrapes the food into a wooden bowl and covers it with a fresh cloth. “There are families downstairs who could use a little extra.”

“How come those greedy dwarves get to eat our leftovers when I’m still hungry?”

“Billy!” Mum stares at him, her mouth partially agape.

“It’s a valid question,” Papa mutters. “I might have felt sorry for them fifteen years ago when a dragon took their mountain hall. But they’ve overstayed their welcome. I’m not the only one who wishes they’d move on.”

“Surely not all dwarves—” I blurt.

“Got no time for their kind.” Papa scowls. “Turning our city into a disease-ridden slum.”

“What can you expect after the way we’ve treated them?” Mum shoots back.

“The way we’ve treated them?” Papa stands up. “They barely speak a word of our language. They don’t even try to learn our ways. They’re miserly with their gold, but expect us to be generous—”

“Have a heart, Angus,” Mum says. “They’ve lost everything. How would you feel if our positions were reversed?”

“I’d be a hell of a lot more grateful.” Papa walks out of the room.

“Yeah!” Billy wriggles out of his seat and stomps down the hall. I’d be laughing if I wasn’t on the verge of tears.

Mum sighs. “I’ll do the dishes, love. Why don’t you get started on your homework.”

My bedroom is opposite Billy’s on the street side. In winter I tie my shutters closed and stuff the gaps with rags, but right now I’d give anything to escape the heat. I throw them open and hold my breath against the stench.

We’re on the mid tier of Lochnell City’s north-eastern quarter. People surge along the street below, pushing past each other while vendors shout to be heard. A top-tier walkway bridges the street above my window. If I stand on the sill and stretch, I can touch the wrought iron underwork.

Knock, knock.

I grab the notebook from my bag and try to look like I’m working.

Mum pokes her head in. “You okay?”

I nod.

She sets a plate with one strawberry on my dresser. “Didn’t want you to miss out.”

I keep my eyes down.

“I’m sorry about your father.” She walks over and sits beside me. “That new town hall contract meant everything to him. We could have moved up a tier.”

“But a dwarf construction team won it.”

Mum rubs my shoulder. “There was no way your father could outbid them. Dwarves are better and cheaper. If things keep going the way they are, he’ll have to find a new job.”

“It isn’t fair.” I flop back and stare at the ceiling. “We won’t let them work in anything except construction and mining. They get just as frustrated as Papa.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s a difficult situation for everyone.”

“I wish people would talk to each other, instead of getting angry.”

“Life isn’t so simple.” Mum gives me a strained smile. “Don’t stay up too late. You’ve got school in the morning.”

Once she’s gone, I change into a black shift with brown woolen leggings and arrange a few blankets under my covers to make it look like I’m sleeping. The light outside has turned orange. I shove my notebook and pencils in my satchel and strap it over my shoulder, then perch on my window sill and wait.

Night brings a new surge of life to the street below. Men and women hawk their wares, or themselves. The lights go off in the Tor’s house. Time stretches on. A cat leaps onto the kebab seller’s awning, then onto Mrs. Potts’ window box. She paws at the shutters until the old woman lets her in.

“Psst.”

My gaze snaps up to the window opposite mine. Adrek waves me over. I take a deep breath, then climb out onto the wrought iron underwork. When I was younger, I used to love the thrill of sneaking out. Now I’m a lot heavier and the thought of falling turns my stomach.

“Nearly there,” Adrek whispers.

I dared him to visit me once, but he’s more scared of heights than I am. He also pointed out that Papa would kill him. Adrek assures me his parents wouldn’t go as ballistic. I still don’t want to find out.

I’m hanging from the underwork. My toes barely touch Adrek’s window sill. I push back, then let go as I swing forward. I fly through his window, feet first, and land in an unladylike sprawl.

Adrek’s seen this enough times to keep a straight face, but I know he’s laughing inside. I roll off my satchel and groan. “We’re insane.”

“Without a doubt.” He offers me his hand. I take it and spring to my feet.

Normally, he’d let go. We’d take our usual spots across from each other and get to work on our homework. I’d gaze dreamily at his chocolate brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones. He’d brush my fingers when offering me one of his mother’s homemade rock cakes. . .

This time, he keeps holding my hand. My heart thuds too loudly.

“Your parents were arguing again,” he murmurs.

My cheeks flush. “It’s not like them. Papa’s been stressed.”

“Because of the contract?”

“Mmm.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“It isn’t your fault.”

Adrek sighs and drops my hand. “We have to stop doing this.”

“What?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks over to the desk. I follow, swallowing the sudden ache in my throat. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

“It’s not that.” He still won’t look at me.

“Then what?”

He’s quiet for a long time. I reach out to touch his shoulder. He let’s out another heavy sigh. “My parents know you’ve been coming here at night.”

“How?”

He turns. “Blonde hair on the carpet. You molt like a cat.” His lip twitches—almost a smile—but then his shoulders slump again. “Your father will probably take us to court if he finds out. We’ll be thrown out of Lochnell. This city hates dwarves enough, without the scandal we’ll cause.”

“But we never. . . we’re only studying.”

“Don’t you ever wish it was more?” His expression changes. My stomach flip-flops. A familiar hunger gnaws at the edges of my self control. “You know I do.”

“I love you, Genevieve.” He takes my hands. “I want to be with you, but I don’t want to lie to my parents. I don’t want to lead this double life, pretending not to know you at school; cowering every time I see your father.”

My brow shoots up. “You want to walk out with me? In public?”

“Are you brave enough?” He searches my face, his eyes begging me to say yes.

Images of my father’s face fill my mind, expressions of anger, betrayal, hurt. I sit heavily on the edge of Adrek’s bed. “I’m scared.”

I stare at my hands. Could I really do it? Could I bear to see everyone I love turn their backs? Is what we have worth that sacrifice?

The bed sinks further as Adrek sits down beside me. “You don’t have to answer right now. I’ll wait, forever, if I have to. I won’t stop loving you, not until you beg me to. Maybe not even then.”

He’s never mentioned love before. He’s never talked this much in one go. Usually I’m the one who won’t shut up. Now I nod, trying to find the words in the whirling mess he’s made of my heart.

I slip my hand into his and squeeze it. “Later, then?”

“Later.”

The world is a blur. I barely remember climbing back, or changing into my nightgown, or hauling the spare blankets back to the cupboard. Soon, it’s morning and mum’s shaking me awake.

“You’ll be late for school!” She rummages around in my cupboard. My uniform flies through the air and lands on my face, followed closely by my shoes.

“Ooph,” I grunt.

“Why are all these blankets in your wardrobe?” she asks.

“I was nesting.” I roll out of bed with a groan.

Mum laughs. “Strange child. Now don’t dawdle. Breakfast is getting cold. Don’t forget to pack your homework.”

Homework.

Crap.

I meant to finish it with Adrek last night. Obviously that didn’t happen.

I gulp down a glass of milk and a cold fried egg. Billy’s already finished and waiting by the door.

“Hurry up,” he whines. “I hate being late.”

We race along the dim, winding corridor that runs the length of our building. There’s a bridge over to the library roof garden and from there, another to Westbridge, our second-tier school. We arrive just as the first bell chimes.

Adrek sits on his own during lunch. It’s always like that, but today I feel like crying. This school has hundreds of kids, but not one of them is brave enough to be his friend—not in public, anyway.

“I don’t get why he bothers.” Lily’s rebraiding her copper curls. “He’ll go work in mining or construction when he graduates, so what’s the point in all this study?”

“He wants to be a lawyer.” My eyes don’t leave him for a moment. He sits straight-backed, pretending he doesn’t hear what everyone’s saying about him.

“A lawyer?” She laughs. “That’s the stupidest thing—”

“Shut up, Lily.”

She’s thrown for a moment, then her shock turns to a sneer. “Anyone would think you were in love with him, the way you jump to his defense all the time.”

I don’t even think. Grabbing my tray, I stalk over to Adrek’s table, leaving her gaping in my wake.

“You decided then?” Adrek gives me a warm smile.

We’re surrounded by whispers. I know they’re all staring. I still have one chance to back out. I can say something cruel, pretend it was all a joke. I can walk away. I’ll break Adrek’s heart and hate myself for the rest of eternity, but I’ll be safe.

“We’re crazy,” I whisper, then kiss him.

There’s a moment of utter silence, as if time itself has stopped. All I can feel is the warmth of his lips; the scratch of his beard against my skin; the touch of his hand on my cheek. Then the room explodes into yells and whistles and excited chatter.

I feel dizzy.

No one will shut up. Our teachers try every trick in the book to control their classes. Adrek and I sit side by side, ignoring everyone. Fortunately, my history teacher is too distracted to check our homework.

After school, I drop Billy at home.

“Where are you going?” Mum calls.

“She kissed a dwarf at school,” Billy says.

“Gen?”

“I’m going over to the Tor’s,” I say. “I want to ask permission to date their son.”

“What? But. . . what about your father.”

“I’ll be home in an hour or two.”

It’s strange, knocking on Adrek’s front door. His mother opens it and invites me inside. She’s short, barely taller than my shoulder. I bow to her as dwarven custom dictates and she returns the gesture. I take my shoes off before following her into their living room.

Adrek’s already here, sitting cross-legged at the low table. I join him on the reed mat. He pours me tea while his mother fusses in the kitchen. Soon she returns with a few bread rolls and a bowl of berries. I gape at her, knowing how much these must have cost.

“This is too much, Mrs Tor. I don’t deserve. . .”

“You are a brave girl.” She pushes the bowl toward me. “Both brave, but you need more than courage. Won’t be easy. Here. Eat.”

I glance at Adrek. He nods.

I pick a blueberry and pop it with my tongue. The flavour rushes through my senses, every moment divine.

When Adrek’s father arrives home, I formally ask their blessing to begin this courtship. It’s a dwarven custom that dates back thousands of years. His parents are surprised that I know even this much of their language. I’m glad I don’t have to say more, because I’ve used up all my tricks.

Fortunately they both agree to support us in the trials ahead. All that’s left is for me to return home and face my father.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Adrek asks for a third time as I pull my shoes on at the door.

“This is one dragon I have to face on my own.”

Adrek winces.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “Bad choice of words.”

He gives me a kiss goodbye. My heart soars, for about a minute, before plummeting in a death spiral the closer I get to home. “Papa’s going to kill me.”

He and Mum are sitting at the table when I walk in. Billy’s nowhere to be seen. I guess they sent him to his room.

“Genevieve?” Papa says. “Sit down.”

I swallow and take the seat closest to Mum. Papa looks tired, and old. His skin is a sickly grey colour.

“Well?” he asks.

“I love him, Papa,” I whisper.

“You’re sixteen years old! How could you possibly know that?”

“You and Mum were eighteen when you married.” I keep my eyes down. He doesn’t say anything at all. He’s just shaking his head.

Mum puts her hand on mine. “We’re just a little puzzled, sweetheart. This is all so sudden.”

“Not for me. Adrek and I have been friends for years. We just. . . we hid it from everyone. We were scared.”

“How. . .” Papa begins.

Mum’s eyes widen. “The blankets. Your shutters. . . You’ve been sneaking out!”

“What’s this?” Papa growls.

“Nothing ever happened,” I say quickly. “We studied, and talked. Adrek’s a gentleman.”

“He’s a dwarf!”

“He’s my friend.” I stand up too. “He was a baby when his parents came to Lochnell. He’s grown up here his whole life. It’s his home too.”

Papa gapes at me, unaccustomed to me talking back. I hold his gaze, needing him to say it’s okay. I don’t know how I’ll survive if he turns away.

“Angus, honey,” Mum says. “Sit down.”

He slumps into his seat. “I need a drink.”

“I’m doing this, Papa,” I say quietly, “I’ll move out if I have to, but I hope you’ll give us a chance.”

He says nothing.

“Give him time, sweetheart,’ Mum says. “This is a lot to take in.”

Back in my room, I toss and turn. Papa’s blank expression plays on my mind. I’ve never done anything like this before. What if he hates me? Maybe he’ll throw me out. What if I’ve ruined my life?

There’s a soft knock. I sit up with a start. “Come in?”

It’s Mum.

“Can I sit?”

“Okay.” I pull my feet back.

She takes the spot at the end of my bed. “I’m worried about you, Gen. Do you know anything about their culture? What loving this boy will mean?”

“I know enough,” I say. “Adrek’s taught me some of their ways. We still have a lot to learn from each other. Dwarves aren’t going anywhere, Mum. Someone has to take the first step.”

“It’s not me you have to convince.”

I sigh. “Papa’s still mad?”

“It affects all of us, honey. He’s going to take a while to adjust.”

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

“In time.” She rubs my shoulder. “You’re his angel. I don’t think he could stay mad forever.”

My throat closes over.

“Just promise me something?” Mum says.

I nod.

“No more surprises.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I lean into mum’s embrace.

“We still love you, sweetheart. We’ll get through this, somehow.”

“Adrek’s worth it, Mum. He’s amazing. You’ll like him when you get to know him.”

Mum laughs. “I’m sure we will, but one thing at a time, okay?”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Mum kisses my hair, easing the door shut on her way out. I bury my head in my pillow. Tears come in torrents, a strange release after months of angst and uncertainty. In the end, I feel calm. I know the road will be long and I’ll get bruised along the way, but there’s a glimmer of hope on the horizon and a family at my back. Together, we can survive anything.

Love and Climate Change

My friend linked me to an article on capitalism, the environment and socialism and asked me for my opinion. I spent such a long time answering her that I thought I might as well make it a blog post.

Here’s my opinion, as it currently stands:

The article sets out clearly what has gone wrong in the world and how Cory believes it is a function of capitalism and class, but his suggestions of what to do about it seem a bit foggy. I get hints of revolution (like in Russia and China?) with heavy dependence on the working class as hope for the future. This relies on a transformation in consciousness for the working class, perhaps via a bolder stance by unions and greater networks between activist groups?

The thing that concerns me is the previous examples of socialism which seem to have resulted in oppression and misery of a different sort. Russia, China and other once-communist societies are not currently leading the world in environmental responsibility.
I guess this leads me to the question of what went wrong for them and how a society might avoid making the same mistakes?

The other problem I have with Cory’s argument is more fundamental. I don’t believe the working class is unenlightened or that the ‘ruling class’ is evil. I agree that the goal must be harmony with the environment. I’m concerned, however, that to pursue harmony inside a dialogue where anyone is discounted or vilified, could perpetuate cycles of misunderstanding, conflict and confusion.

People are primarily motivated by two emotions, fear and love. All the logic in the world won’t budge a fearful person to leap over a perceived ledge, unless you can prove that it’s safe, that something else is worse, or that it’s the only way to fulfill their need to be loved.

How does that relate? Well fear causes mental blindness. I strongly doubt the National Party, for example, is rubbing their hands with glee as they sign bills allowing further unsustainable power generation. They’re not envisioning the destruction of New Zealand and shrugging, saying, “Oh well, I’ll be rich now, screw my grandkids.” My best guess is that they’re looking at the financial crisis we’re in and saying ‘well shit, gotta do something about that. What are our options?’

The environmental aspects are too hard to solve, in their minds. They avoid thinking about things that are fear-inducing and, since most of New Zealand seems to be ignoring the problem and putting it in the too-hard basket too, they figure someone else can worry about it later when it gets to be a ‘real problem’.

Of course this is going to lead to destructive outcomes, but not because they’re evil. Because they feel helpless, confused, scared and totally unprepared to tackle what seems like an impossible problem. Maybe also because they’re pretty sure that prioritizing the environment at the cost of the entire capitalist model is something that won’t get them re-elected.

If you think about it, changing an entire model like that has rarely, if ever, been done without significant chaos, resistance and bloodshed.

I believe the only way to create lasting change, peacefully, is to demand it as a nation via the democratic process. It’s been done for things like gay marriage and our anti-nuclear stance, and it can be done for the environment – with the right dialogue and grassroots inclusive attitude. That means every group, from teens, through students, working people, families, investors, business people, the elderly etc, need to agree not only that change is important, but that it is achievable.

The achievable part is the most vital in my opinion. There’s been more than enough films, famous actors and UN conventions to convince most people that climate change and environmental stuff is ‘important’. What there hasn’t been nearly enough of is inspiring visions of what the alternatives could be.

When you imagine the future, what do you see? For many of us, it’s the ice covered cities in Day After Tomorrow, or the never ending oceans of Waterworld, or the jungle cities of most zombie post-apocalyptic films. This future seems inevitable. If doom is coming, why not practice? We write stories to reassure ourselves that despite the complete destruction of our planet and our civilization, some scrap of humanity remains and we might personally survive to see it.

For people who find this end-of-the-world image too terrifying to contemplate, the response seems to be simply closing your mind to the horror and telling yourself it’s not real… that life will go on exactly as it has all this time (hence the insistence that climate change is a conspiracy and there’s no proof). People don’t ‘choose’ to believe these things, they simply must, because otherwise they’d break.

This is the problem I have wrestled with in the last few months. There are no easy answers. I’m only starting to understand the problem, but one thing I know for sure. It’s a human problem. I think it’s the human problem. It’s not just about environment or oppression or war, but these are the symptoms.

I believe we are, each of us, the problem and the solution.

Cory is right when he speaks of the need for a leap in consciousness, but it is not only the working class who need to make this leap… it’s everyone. Every time we choose to put another person in a box; to assume we know them and their motivations; to class them as ‘evil’ and fight against them; we are being part of the problem. Every time we push our point of view without genuinely listening, we are sustaining the cycles that keep us isolated and powerless.

I’m not a Christian, but I think the advice “love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you” is pretty much the leap in consciousness we require if we want to find a solution.

When you can stand in a place where you believe everyone is genuinely doing their best with the resources and world view they have, you can begin to ask questions like, what would inspire these people to take action? What has inspired people in the past? How could we make it easy for them to choose a different path?

One part of the answer is awareness, another is having the courage to gather solutions and present them in stories that redefine what is possible for humanity. Make hope the prevailing energy of our conversations. Inspire people to take action because they believe it will make a difference. Let people at every level of society be welcome.

Love.

Harmony with the planet starts with the courage to love each other. It’s something we are all responsible for. Every time you choose to smile, to forgive, to extend a helping hand, to listen… you are being part of the solution.

Well, that’s what I believe.

What do you think?

Sometimes, I imagine…

I’m back.
It’s hard to describe the last seven months. There’s facts like getting married, spending four weeks in China, living away from my parents for the first time. Then there’s little things like ironing and dishes, learning to cook and sewing on buttons.
My mother used to say, “You don’t know what it’s like until you experience it for yourself.”
Funny, how in the tyranny of the urgent, you can lose your voice bit by bit until you realize you haven’t written a thing in months and your soul is aching for release. Funny, when the tears are streaking down your cheeks and all you want to do is write, that you discover all those little things are not so very important and maybe the thing you fear most is picking up a pen.
Maybe the question, whispered darkly in the silence, is, “What do I have to say?”
When the blank page stares back at you and nothing seems to fit, it’s enough to make a mark.
Sometimes, I imagine the whole world turning – each of us tiny in our self-imposed significance.
Sometimes I imagine God watches our scurrying with a bemused smile.
Sometimes I imagine the world is coming apart, but other times I see hope like a candle in the darkness, guiding me home.
Sometimes I imagine everyone I love standing on the pebbled beach watching the sunrise. I stand among them and I know we’ll be alright.

B

Pre-Valentine’s Flash Fiction

Challenge:

You are to write a piece of flash fiction (up to 250 words) which includes a ‘first kiss’ scene. Flash fiction is still a story, so needs a beginning, middle, and end.The story should stand on its own without needing to have read anything else before hand.

Here’s my attempt:

The room is noisy and full of teenagers. Kat’s over by the punchbowl, flirting with Lee. She brushes blue hair out of her eyes with a coy smile. He’s probably just complimented her TARDIS dress. His Darth Vader helmet is under one arm and his forehead is damp. Totally regretting that costume choice.

I’m snuggled between the couch and the lazyboy with a bowl of popcorn, feeling like a spectator. Mum will be here any second. She never lets me stay out past nine.

Raj vacates the lazyboy, looking for a drink. Lee pounces on the seat with a grin. “I’ve had my eye on this spot all night.”

“Comfy?”

“More interested in the company.”

My heart skips a beat. “Where’s Kat?”

He shrugs. “I fled when I guessed Raj was gonna vacate. . .”

“Oh.”

“Mia?” He lifts my chin so I’m looking at him. His stare is intense. “Remember when I said sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump?”

I nod breathlessly.

“I’m taking my own advice.”

I’m frozen. I close my eyes just as his lips brush mine. His kiss is warm and sure. My mind’s blank, but my heart’s doing acrobatics.

Someone whistles. My cheeks are a furnace.

“Mia Fitzgerald,” Lee whispers, “will you go out with me?”

I’m a stunned rabbit, but I manage to nod once.

“Mia,” someone yells from the hall. “Your mum’s here.”

I groan and Lee laughs.

“See you at school?” he asks.

“Yeah, see you.”

Word count: 249

Book two first draft – complete!

So excited I’m bouncing around the room right now. I’ve finally reached the last word of the full draft of book two. My super awesome beta readers are going through it now with a fine toothed comb. May still be a couple of months before the book is released (depending on the scale of the rewrites required), but it’s significantly closer than it was yesterday.

So happy!

Happy.

=D

– B

“Here’s SpecFicNZ-Christchurch” – a blog interview by Helen Lowe

Helen Lowe, the author of the “Wall of Night” series, Gemmell Morningstar and Sir Julius Vogel Award winner, is currently running a blog series featuring Christchurch based speculative fiction writers.

This week it’s my turn!

It’s such a privilege to be a part of this series that includes such awesome Christchurch authors as Liz Gatens, Cat Langford, Kevin Berry and AJ Fitzwater. Make sure you check Helen’s blog out on coming Wednesdays to discover more local talent =D

Thank you Helen for the exposure!

Teenagers are an Alien Species – Free Writing Competition

Do you know any young writers (year 9 to 13 / between the ages of 12 and 18 years old) who would like to win personalized feedback from published authors on their work? Perhaps young artists or designers who would like to win design coaching and have their artwork featured as the cover for the upcoming Write Offline 2013 Anthology?

I’m really excited to have been invited by Lee Murray to judge the cover design part of Tauranga Writers’ 2013 NZ Secondary School annual writing competition and coach the winner toward perfecting the final cover.

The rules are as follows:

* Create an original piece of writing (short story, essay or poem) using the following sentence as the theme, title or as a line anywhere in the piece of writing: ‘Teenagers are an Alien Species’. Your piece of writing must be no more than 1500 words for prose and 300 words for poetry.

* Create an original piece of cover art using the following sentence as its theme: ‘Teenagers are an Alien Species’.

* Entry is Free and you may enter as many times as you like but all entries must be received by 12am (midnight) on Friday 28th June 2013.

If you want to find out more, check out the official website here and download the entry requirements. Make sure you submit it in the exact font, size etc that they’ve requested!

Good luck.

Helen Lowe and SpecFicNZ

I’m excited and feel incredibly privileged to be part of Helen Lowe’s upcoming “Here’s SpecFicNZ – Christchurch” mini blog series. All things going ahead as planned, it will start next Wednesday (24th of April) and feature Christchurch Sci-Fi and Fantasy authors.

There is some fantastic talent here in Christchurch, so make sure to check this out and discover just how many local authors we have!