Finnian Burnett

5 Questions with Sara Power

Finnian Burnett

May 6, 2024

Welcome to the 5 Questions Series. Each week, I’ll ask five questions of some of my favorite authors, editors, publishers, and other industry professionals. This week, I’m talking with Sara Power.

I was so thrilled when I saw the announcement that your short story collection sold. Can you talk a little about that book, what it’s about and when we can expect to read it?

Art of Camouflage is on its way in May! It’s my first collection of short fiction, and it features the lives of girls and women who are connected to the military in some way. A number of stories include military kids who are figuring things out while growing up on military bases across northern Canada. I grew up in Goose Bay, Labrador, so how could I resist writing about teen hangouts like the old nuclear storage bunkers and abandoned US Air Force barracks? In one story, I give the kids superpowers of magnetism and chameleon superpowers, just because. A number of my stories are about young women in the early stages of their military careers. I like working with female characters who are new to the military because there is an element of discovery happening in the narrative. One of my characters is a first-year cadet at the Royal Military College in Kingston. Another is completing her initial army training at the Combat Training Centre in Gagetown. Both of these characters are closely connected to their past lives as non-combatants, as civilians, and they find themselves immersed in closed military environments, with all the doctrine, language, social codes, and gender dynamics of a military institution. I like to work with the changing qualities of naivety and ignorance when a character is placed in a strange new and rigid environment. I find it compelling to think about situations in stories when the option to thrive is not an option.

The other theme I explore in this collection is contemporary motherhood. Placing my mother characters in remote and transient military settings gives me the opportunity to think in a controlled and clinical way about contemporary parenting; I am able to isolate my subject and study it closely. I get to dive into these intimate spaces of power dynamics, and nurture, and gender roles, and fatigue of spirit. I study the sly creep of burnout, the manifestation of cruelty and abandonment and love and forgiveness and failure and guilt. I have three teenagers, yet mothering is a mystery to me on most days, which is probably why I find it satisfying to think and write about it.

On the publishing side, what was your process for finding an agent and what do you wish you had known about the whole process before you started?

I submitted my first short story to a literary magazine in 2016, on my 40th birthday. It was rejected, but the editor provided generous feedback. I kept writing stories, and sending them to literary magazines all over the place. I’ve always loved the short story form, and especially the masters: Lisa Moore, Alice Munro, Carol Shields, Grace Paley, Mavis Gallant, KD Miller, Annie Proulx, Edna O’Brien. The lit mags introduced me to new writers, new writing styles and forms, new writing ideas. Writers doing super interesting things on the page. I started listening to the New Yorker fiction podcast pretty much every day—and that cracked my world open altogether. I’m sure you remember during our MFA, how I recommended that podcast to anyone interested in writing short stories. On the podcast, they read a story, and then discuss it in depth. The exposure to different styles and forms of all these stories!!! and you can listen to them while you’re peeling an orange or driving to work. It’s heaven.

I met an author at the Ottawa Festival in 2018 who was was touring her first novel. She was also an incredible short story writer, and she shared some advice about her robust submission process to literary magazines. When a number of her stories were ready, she’d send them out to the different magazines that were open for submission, then she’d forget about them. In six to eight months, when they came back rejected, she’d send them out again to a new batch of literary magazines. After a piece got rejected three or four times, she’d revisit the story with fresh eyes, make revisions, and send it out again. The patience! I was so impressed with her dedication and her casual acceptance that rejection is a part of the process.

I started to send out my stories at the end of every month, and always felt pumped when I had three or four stories floating around out there, waiting to get plucked, or rejected. After many many many many rejections and rewrites, I gradually started to receive acceptances from literary magazines, which meant working with editors to prepare and finesse story for publication. Getting to work one-on-one with editors was a formative part of my experience as an emerging writer.

By the time I had enough stories for a collection, most of them had been published in literary magazines, and a few had won awards. I submit to a few agents who passed on my work, and then I crawled under my bed. I decided on a whim to submit my collection to my absolute top choice of Canadian literary agent. It was absolutely a long shot, but I think submitting consistently to literary magazines, and dealing with consistent rejection has provided me with a healthy relationship to rejection. I just went for it, and the stars aligned. So in the end, I didn’t spend a lot of time querying agents. Most of my querying labour and time happened when I was trying to get things published in literary magazines.

We’ve talked about misogyny in the military and how that informs your art. In general, do you view your writing as acts of healing and resistance?

I often think about different forms of misogyny in military settings. Whether or not the stories I write are acts of healing and resistance, I’m not sure, but I think both of these things might be possible through a ruthless interrogation of misogyny. The current study of misogyny within the Canadian military has opened floodgates for thinking and conversation about reform of military culture with respect to the status of women. My writing is a small piece of this larger conversation.

I have studied the reports and recommendations of Justice Louise Arbour. Her work has resonated broadly, creating revolutionary change in a culture with a vast history of normalized misogyny. The power of stories within this social movement is to present a crystalline experience of women in a military setting. As with many forms of normalized oppression, there is a widespread hunger to give language and shape to a particular kind of harm. This is story. This is what stories do.

The word misogyny can often feel vague to me. It’s an umbrella word that shelters a wide variety of experiences. A contempt of women and femininity that produces physical or psychological manipulation, usually over an extended period of time. It causes woman to question the validity of their own thoughts, their perception of reality, their potential for self determination. It leads to confusion and loss of confidence or self esteem, and debilitating self doubt. I know and have felt these things to be true about misogyny, but in story, I am able to better visualize these truths when they are attached to a person and a time and a place.

I think it was in one of Deborah Levy’s books where I first read about benevolent sexism. It’s a mode of misogyny that I wrestle with in my writing. This type of sexism functions below the radar of hostile sexism, and as such, has the potential to be even more invasive. It’s like a pretty weed, those patronizing attitudes that are seemingly positive, yet reinforce women’s subordinate status and power. Protective paternalism, for example, is a quintessential feature of military culture. An expectation that men provide safety for women and children. It seems harmless, chivalrous, yet this classic attitude can destabilize the equal footing of women in a professional military environment. Benevolent sexism quietly undermines institutions, work, hobbies, or habits associated with women, giving them a weaker and inferior status.

I think about the styles of leadership and command presence that are taught in military training. What does strength look like, and why? What does weakness look like, and why? What does confidence look like? Something as seemingly innocent as ascribing value to the stereotypical feminine attributes of nurturance and maternal nature is problematic within a military hierarchy. The assumption that women are more suited to roles of nurture and support and caregiving, while men are built for assertive leadership and command. Fictional narrative provide an infinite safe space to tackle and invert these stereotypes.

So, yes, maybe my writing is geared toward healing and resistance, although, I don’t think it’s my goal when I feel a story evolving. But maybe I don’t think about goals as a story is evolving. For example, just yesterday, my military husband was going through his collection of coins and badges and pins that he’s received over the years of collaborating with military members from different organizations and nationalities. He’s a Star Wars fan, so he keeps his collection in a metal can that’s shaped like the head of R2D2. My daughter, a devoted fan of Taylor Swift, asked him about his collection of colourful and shiny items. “So,” she said, “they’re like friendship bracelets. Like the friendship bracelets that Swifties exchange as a token of friendship and generosity.”

What a tangle of an idea! I wanted to drop everything and crack that idea wide open.

What are you working on now?

I’m in the messy first draft of my first novel which is based on my short story, The Circular Motion of a Professional Spit-Shiner, which takes place at the Royal Military College of Canada (RMC). It’s a braided narrative set in 2018 and 1998. Two ex-RMC cadets are women now, and they are living together on York Street (St. John’s) for the summer. Marlis is single-parenting two teen daughters while her husband is deployed overseas. Karley is a playwright, and is writing and rehearsing a play/puppet show about a group of first-year cadet girlfriends at RMC in 1998. The theatre company Karley is working with includes veteran soldiers who are now amateur actors. I’m working on a scene right now in which the veterans are building the female puppets based on the body specs provided. They will build the puppets, move their bodies, speak their voices, think their thoughts. I’m actually in love with where it’s going. I can’t even!

If you could give one piece of advice to emerging writers, what would it be?

Find a way to keep notes. On a phone, or in a notebook or whatever, so when you are out in the world, and sparkly ideas arrive, you can jot them down/record them. Oh, and the TNY podcast!

Bonus question: Have you ever taken a picture of a weird bird?

Hmmm. I didn’t take a picture, but when I was posted to Cornwall ON for two years, I walked on a trail that started to be taken over by geese. I had to swing a tree branch and walk very assertively, swinging the branch, making barking noises to get through the hoards of geese. It wasn’t my most graceful self, but it did become a story about the absurd escalation of violence, so all dignity was not lost.

New Workshop Announcement – Authentic Characters

Finnian Burnett

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May 2, 2024

What Makes Them Tick? Digging Deeper to Create Authentic Characters

When readers fall in love with a creative work, they aren’t falling in love with the plot. They’re falling in love with the characters. Creating a character that readers can love comes from a deeper understanding of your character’s inner workings through investigating traumas, triggers, and internal motivation. In this generative workshop, we’ll explore ways to create rich and authentic characters.

Participants can expect to take away character questions to help brainstorm ideas for stories, along with an investigative point of view change technique that gives deeper insight into each character. Find out more and sign up here!

5 Questions with Michele Wong

Finnian Burnett

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April 29, 2024

Your story, The Inevitable Recipe for Solace, won first place in Flash Fiction Magazine’s contest. (Ed. Note. I was the judge and I love this story.) There were also so many positive comments on the piece when it was published. What was your inspiration for writing that piece and how did it feel to know it touched so many people?

I recalled watching my mother make Lemon Meringue Pie and my grandmother teach my sister and I how to make barbecue pork buns. There weren’t enough of these moments which I regret as I see food as a way to bond not just in the eating but in the making of it. Also, I wanted to deal with a few factors. I’ve had two friends who have come out late in life and it’s been hard on both their ex-spouses. As a LGBT person, I’ve championed their honesty and courage, and have given them unwavering support, but at the same time, I feel very much as well for their straight partners who now have many questions regarding themselves and their former marriage. I also wanted to place the daughter’s own struggle with being abandoned side by side with the mother’s struggle. Despite how different the two women are and how tenuous a mother-daughter relationship can be, there are similarities and in the end, the daughter knows who will be there for her and her unborn child.

We’ve talked before about intuition and creativity. How integral is intuition to your writing process?

I actually see images first, some of which I try to pen down. Having studied as well as gone through CBT for anxiety, I once saw how it visits each part of our body which led me to write Anatomy of Arriving. I think the mind connects imagery to words rather subconsciously and quite often, our writerly mind unknowingly connects things we have seen to a story we are currently writing.

What happens when you hit those pesky places of creative blockage?

I so understand when other creatives bemoan feeling “dried up” and I’ve been in that state a fair bit. I sometimes feel and wonder why some pieces don’t quite hit the right note and this adds to the blockage. Reading anything from poets such as EE Cummings or writers like Murakami, Nicole Krauss and Marilynne Robinson helps in nudging one’s creative inclination. I also recently told myself to just write a few lines or edit one page even when not motivated, just to imbibe the understanding that writing is a calling and a craft rather than a whimsy.

There’s so much poetry in your words. (I just read “The electric-issness of life” and it is stunning. Do you find flash fiction specifically lends itself to a blurred border with poetry?

It means a lot to have you say that Finnian. I started out wanting to write poetry but always wanted to have a story written within that framework. Years ago, I sent a short story to the theatre director Kathleen Weiss who was teaching at UBC at that time. She called me up out of the blue and said she would mentor me for a year in playwriting. And for that whole year, she read my work aloud and emphasized how vital it is in hearing one’s words through someone else’s mouth. It was quite illuminating, and it highlighted the poetical and rhythmic quality of words. This was what drew me to flash fiction as it’s so flexible in form and function. Yet sometimes I think there’s strength in just using straight colloquial language. Right now for my first collection of short stories that I’m working on, the stories that are more realistic are more lyrical, while some stories that are surreal are written more in concrete phrasing as the topic is already a stretch of the imagination.

What advice would you give people on building a life of writing for themselves?

Start with any idea that feels authentic to you. Authenticity has long staying power and it will give you the momentum to continue writing. There will be days you don’t feel like writing likely due to your workload, just feel free to pen one sentence. Maybe from that one line, will grow another and another. Julia Cameron encourages artists to just do one simple sketch or art piece to allow that ‘flow’ to happen. Also read widely as much as you can to understand the basic concepts such as plot and point of view etc. I’ve benefited from reading a genre that is not my wheelhouse and love mysteries like Gone Girl!

Bonus question: Have you ever taken a picture of a weird bird?

Two years ago in Singapore: Saw a stealthy hornbill stalking innocent chicken. Luckily certain humans and their nosy cellphones scared it away.

5 Questions with José Pablo Iriarte

Finnian Burnett

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April 8, 2024

Okay, before we dive into writing, I’ve heard a rumor that you are a wild singing person. Is this true and can you tell me about it? What appeals to you about music and does it affect your writing at all?

Hah! I am a constant singer, pretty much if I’m awake and not teaching or writing, I’m singing. I’ll burst into spontaneous filk any time a random line reminds me of a song, which is constantly–I’ve even got one of my grown daughters doing it now! I’ll be honest with you, when my voice is there, nothing in life feels better to me than the physical sensation of singing.

I’ve sung in choruses and in community theater, but the place where this love of music gets its . . . socially sanctioned outlet is in karaoke. I generally go at least once a week and have a repertoire that’s a mile long. Pop, rock, country, showtunes, oldies, songs in Spanish, songs by men and songs by women. You name it, I’ll try to sing it!

I think a lifetime of singing other people’s words has given me an unconscious sense of rhythm and maybe how to wring emotions from language without dipping into bathos.

Singing has also, like reading, given me a space to explore my sexuality and gender by allowing me to explore identities that, as a young person, I didn’t feel empowered to express or explore in any other way.

I’ve also had story ideas that were basically inspired from . . . well, from the backstories I basically make up for the songs I love. Also, in my forthcoming book (dropping April 30!) I write about a kid who gets to experience playing the trumpet at far above his own skill level, due to ghostly assistance. I can’t play the trumpet myself, but I channeled how it feels to me when I sing, that weird bit of magic in how just making sounds somehow makes me happy.

You are traditionally published, and you also give workshops on finding agents and other aspects of publishing. Can you talk a little about why you went the route of traditional publishing and what the process has been like for you?

The most honest answer is that I defaulted to it, in that I’m older than my publication history would lead one to assume. When I was first trying to break into publishing, in the eighties and nineties, my role models were traditionally published, and it was hard to find anybody with a kind thing to say about self-publishing. So I internalized a lot of their lessons about how the industry works, and a lot of things that are no longer current.

If I had to do it over again, I might make the same choices, but for different reasons. I’m primarily known for short fiction, and this month I have a middle grade novel coming out. Both of those are, I would argue, spaces where it’s still easier to find your audience through traditional publishing.

The process? As I implied, more than anything, it has been long! I’ve written a lot of stories that never got out into the world, and I’ve experienced a lot of rejection. I do feel that I tell stories that are half a step off of the mainstream . . . stories that tend be rooted in emotions more than tangible goals and action.

I think breaking down the barriers and getting past the gatekeepers took me longer than it might have taken somebody with more conventional storytelling beats–but then, those of us who are marginalized in one way or another are typically going to be in that slightly non-conventional space. And that can be an argument in favor of stepping outside of an unfair system, and I certainly do respect that. But on the other hand, I feel like trying to force a system that maybe wasn’t receptive to the kind of stories I wanted to tell to publish me anyway required me to level up my work a lot more than I might have if I hadn’t needed to.

I notice that all of my favorite authors tend to be marginalized. They tend to be queer, or writers of color, or both. And I think it’s because marginalized writers have to be better to break through the system. I wouldn’t change the choices I’ve made because I like the stories I’m telling and the skills I’ve honed, and those choices led me to where I am now.

I get a lot of questions from students who aren’t even sure how to know what agents to approach. What advice would you give someone who wants to start looking for an agent and isn’t sure where to start?

I am hyper-thorough in this sort of thing, and maybe not the best example. I think over-planning helps me get past my own anxiety and brainweasels. That said, a pretty innocuous first step would be to use a resource like querytracker.net to compile a list. I made a list of agents who represented not just the book I was pitching, but also the other genres I could see myself in. For me at the time that was young adult, fantasy, and science fiction. I ranked those agents in terms of a variety of categories, like who represented authors I read and liked, whose name I saw making good deals in Publisher’s Lunch, who was located in or near New York (which I want to emphasize is not necessary in today’s market, but which I still saw as a plus). And then I started at the top. I also followed agents on social media and read their blogs to get a feel for them as human beings. Unfortunately, social media seems to me to be much more fragmented than it was back then, and maybe not as useful for getting to know people.

You also write short fiction. How does that inform your novel-writing?

I’m actually much better known for my short fiction. My stories have been finalists for all of spec-fic’s big awards and reprinted in year-end anthologies like Best American and Transcendent.

It may be that being a reader of short fiction has led me to prize the emotional punch above the intricate plot. I just love a story that can make me feel something in a short space.

As a writer . . . well, it’s important to not entrench the idea that short fiction is an apprenticeship for novel-writing, because plenty of novelists never wrote or sold short stories, and because short fiction writing is a beautiful and worthy art in its own right, not as a path to novel success. But, that said, each story has one beginning and one ending, and you have to learn to stick both of those things to sell your work. And in writing short stories I got to practice those skills many many more times that I would have if I only wrote novels. And of course short fiction forces you to learn economy of words, and it forces you to learn to hone and polish your prose. I do believe that writing short fiction honed my craft.

How important is writing community to you and how do you go about finding it?

My writing community has been massively important to me. I wrote in isolation for literally decades, with nothing but rejections to show for my trouble, but leveled up quickly when the internet came into my life, and when I found spaces like online forums. Later, when I was making those first sales, having a bunch of likeminded mutuals on social media led my work to be discovered by readers more widely than it otherwise might have been. Having an online community has also meant that on the occasions when I can afford to travel to conferences and such, I’ve got a bunch of people there who already know me, so my anxiety doesn’t have a chance to completely obliterate me.

All that said, those spaces are different now. That doesn’t mean I believe it’s impossible to find your community, I just think the process looks different and it may not be as useful to base advice on what worked for me a decade ago.

If I were an outsider in 2024 just looking to find my people–and not yet buried under writing deadlines!–I think there are two main things I would do. First, I would join the discord servers hosted by my favorite authors who have such servers. In particular, I would seek out the ones that are thriving online communities. Second, I would volunteer in the organizations devoted to promoting the kind of work I write. A significant percentage of my published work is sapphic, but for me that would really be SFWA and SCBWI, since all of my work is speculative and all of my novels are for younger readers. Seriously, find committees that need somebody to get stuff done. That’s where you will meet the best people, because you will be finding the people with actual commitment to building something.

And I would, if I were capable of it, travel to conventions and conferences, particularly those where I know my online friends will be present. But I can’t say that without acknowledging that any ability to travel is a massive, massive privilege, not just in terms of the financial challenge but, increasingly, the health challenges of traveling while Covid is not really quite under control.

Bonus question: Have you ever taken a picture of a weird bird?

I . . . have not, but now I’m starting to regret this.

But wait! Here’s a picture I took last week of a hawk on my neighbor’s mailbox. I mean, it could be weird. Maybe it plays D&D and listens to emo folk music when it’s not standing on top of mailboxes! Neither of us knows that it doesn’t.

José Pablo Iriarte’s latest release, Benny Ramírez and the Nearly Departed, can be purchased through Penguin Random House here.

5 Questions with Kathryn L. Pringle

Finnian Burnett

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March 25, 2024

First – sapphic horror. Talk to me about this genre. What appeals to you about it? What’s exciting about it?

Horror tells us more about society and what it means to be human than any other genre except perhaps poetry (Fight me!). But, seriously, both, at their best, require us (readers, writers) to explore our deepest fears and identify what we are most willing to fight for—to live for, love for, die for—you get the idea. It is also an expression of what any given culture is most afraid of or suspicious of at the time—ie all those corporations turning people into zombies the last few decades—so there’s this anthropological documentarian aspect to writing horror and poetry that appeals to me. And the sapphic part—I mean, there’s not enough. And, being homoromantic asexual, I read very few books that I can completely relate to myself. Very few. And I myself didn’t even realize I was asexual until I read Jae’s Perfect Rhythm and saw myself completely in Holly. I had no idea. I thought everyone else was weird or shallow for having sexual feelings for people on sight. I didn’t get it at all. So, having an ace lead in my novel was extremely important to me. There’s nowhere near enough representation in horror where we are the heroes and survivors, and not the bff or sidekick—or worse, villain.

You have a book release coming out. I’m so excited about it. Tell us about Cavendish House, what was your process for writing it and how did you know it was ready to go out into the world?

Cavendish House is a queer modern gothic ghost story with two timelines—now and 1877. It is a supernatural murder mystery featuring an ace protagonist who think she knows everything about the supernatural and love—but she’s very wrong, of course.

Well, it started with an auction. Ha! I won the bid on one of your flash fiction writing critiques/help/coaching sessions and that’s when the ghost of Eliza Cavendish first appeared. She had a different name then, but the basic scene from that failed flash attempt is still in the book. I had just found GCLS that year and learned about the writing academy and decided to apply the following year. The mechanics of prose vs poetry was a lot and I really wanted to learn in a class setting but didn’t want the expense of another MFA, so the writing academy was extremely appealing from a financial standpoint. But that was a year away, so I kept writing. I was supposed to revise the flash piece and resend it to you but it just kept getting longer and it was clear Eliza wanted a novel. Which, once you get to know her makes perfect sense. Anyway, I remember you reaching out to see how I was doing because it had been so long and I was like: This is turning into a novel!

It is a funny story because even as a poet I failed at brevity. Like, three of my books are booklength poems—why did I think I could do flash?

Anyway, the writing academy was a year + out so I kept working on the novel. I’m a pantser so I spent a lot of time figure out the story. I looked at Bywater’s recommended writing books and found Stephen Koch’s The Modern Library Writer’s Workshop: A Guide to the Craft of Fiction which became my teacher and therapist as I tried to get a draft together. So, by the time my Writing Academy class started I had been through the manuscript five times? Then, class started and I got my mentor, Elle E. Ire, and had more work to do.

And now I’m going through it again. Of course, everyone has their own process. I like layers. Each revision adds a new layer to the overall story. Most of my friends are plotters and I admire this skill greatly but cannot bring myself to do it. It isn’t how my brain works.

You recently acquired a publisher? Can you talk about that process?

I like how you phrased this question because usually we hear about publishers acquiring us, not the other way around. I like the agency of your phrasing. I did acquire a publisher, and I’m thrilled—in part because the process was pretty intense and I’m relieved to be done with it. I queried agents for more than a year with a decent response rate—several full requests, a lot of feedback when rejected—which is gold in sea of no responses. But early in the process, I participated in a live pitch event online and ended up pitching to Lauren Davila from Inked in Gray. There was a fairly large list of agents and acquiring editors to choose from for the event, but Lauren stood out for me because she is also a poet—and as you know, I am a poet. I figured if anything, we’d be able to talk well together based on that alone. I also really admired Inked in Gray because of their dedication to social justice which is important to me. So, I pitched to Lauren, and she said she wanted the full so I sent it and waited. Inked in Gray was the only live pitch I’d ever done (it was nerve wracking but Lauren was very kind about it) and they were the only publisher I queried. Months later, because that’s how it is—some agents didn’t get back to me for 8 months after querying—they sent an offer! Then, I went into research mode re: the contract, let the agents with fulls still out know about the offer, and talked to my GCLS mentor—Elle—and friends about the offer and contract to see what they thought. Ultimately, I decided it was an offer I couldn’t and didn’t want to refuse.

Inked in Gray is unique in that they encouraged me to continue in my agent search, and they just have great vibes. Plus, Lauren is my developmental editor and this is hugely appealing to me. Writing prose is such a different animal to poetry and it really felt fated for me to land where I did.

What are you working on now?

I’m focusing on some revisions for Cavendish House and also working on the prequel to it. I also have this cli-fi manuscript mess I’m trying to organize—is it a group of short stories or is it a novel? I’m not sure yet. But it is 45,000 words so I’d love to get it done.

I’m also working on this amazing, all-ace written project from SHEAUXTIME Collective, Inc. called Agent of Lust. It is a sci-fi/speculative mockumentary series featuring asexual characters that will be released with a book. Based on the seven deadly sins, the Agents are beings who facilitate the human experience throughout their life. I’m super excited to be on the core writing team for this project. We are aiming for release this winter.

How important is writing community to you and what advice would you give people looking to establish one?

Like with most things in life, it is hugely important to find your peoples. Since I’m in this liminal overlapping space of poetry-horror-queer writing it has been easiest for me to find my people via the GCLS Writing Academy. Does it mean I’m the only horror writer in my sprint pods? YES. It absolutely does, though I believe they could each write some damn fine horror. Does it mean that I translated the writing sex homework from Karelia Stetz-Waters into murdering a character? Yep. I did that, too. But I found my people. I do writing sprints and talk poetry with Milena McKay. I am critique partners with KC Laine, Claire Donniere, and Alicia Gael. KC and I survived the ups and downs of the querying process together and she is now agented and I have a publisher. And I have befriended some Critters who mean the world to me and who I wouldn’t have met if not for GCLS.

Would I have a novel coming out soon—or at all—without them? I don’t think so. This isn’t the first novel I’ve tried to write. I needed my people to finish one and get it into the world. I couldn’t have done it without them.

So, to generally answer the question—how do you establish one? Research the writing associations in your genre. I’m also a member of the HWA (Horror Writers Association) and they recently established a North Carolina chapter. I intend to go to their events and make some more friends soon. I think, though, GCLS Writing Academy is a really good place for us Sapphic writers to meet as it can be scary and difficult sometimes to find a writing group if you are also worried about your identity being accepted and welcomed.

Bonus question: Have you ever taken a picture of a weird bird?

So, I haven’t taken these photos but I can think of three weird birds from Denver GCLS Con who have very similar photos to my winged photo here…. And I mean weird in the best possible way!

You can learn more about Kathryn L. Pringle and this upcoming release on Inked in Gray’s website here.