I love reading "the stories behind the stories," so here are some background musings from the stories
in my new collection from Book View Cafe, Pearls of Fire, Dreams of Steel.
Introduction
Introduction
As I put together this collection of short fantasy fiction,
I realized it comprises a retrospective of my writing career. Although it does
not include my very first professional sale (“Imperatrix” in Sword & Sorceress), it spans the
decades from novice to seasoned writer. To my delight, I found many of those early
stories still spoke to me—delighted me—as much now as when I labored to create
them. Often the output of a young writer will be justifiably relegated to the
Trunk of Doom (hence the term “trunk stories”). When we’re learning new skills,
we need to practice, and not all of those early experiments succeed. More than
that, in order to grow as artists, we need to take risks, to “push the
envelope,” even if it means falling flat on our faces, so to speak. But it does
not follow that every early effort is best forgotten. Stories ignite within us,
waiting to take shape on paper. Once we have acquired a certain basic level of
craft, it no longer matters if this is our first sale or our fortieth. And one
of the gifts of new publishing technologies is the ability to revive those
stories, even from decades ago, so that new generations of readers can enjoy
them.
“Storm God,” “Fireweb,” and “Dragon-Amber” all come from
those early years, when I was trying out lots of new ideas. Astute readers will
recognize a touch of a well-known American folk tale in “Storm God.” “Fireweb”
was an early exploration of the “wounded healer” theme, and also taught me that
whatever I thought a story was “about” when I started writing it, I was sure to
be wrong; I developed the wisdom to let the “underneath” story tell itself.
When I wrote “Dragon-Amber,” it seemed as if everyone and their cousin was
writing stories based on Anne McCaffrey’s “Pern” series. True to my contrary
nature, I insisted on something different. No oversized fire-breathing flying
reptiles here, but a creature of magic nonetheless.
“Bread and Arrows” and “Nor Iron Bars A Cage” were written within a
couple of years of one another. Both stories arose from a turning point in my
life. When I wrote it, I had just moved from a large city to a redwood forest.
I’d started a full-time day job to support myself and my younger daughter. It’s
about new beginnings, and also making choices that close off other avenues.
“Bread and Arrows” echoes “Summoning the River” (Transfusion and Other Tales of Hope) in its journey into a dark
place, grappling with loss and mortality. I also wanted a different role for
the charismatic, sexually attractive stranger; Celine looks beneath the
handsome exterior to the suffering man, and draws compassion from her own
struggle. And the bakery salamander was irresistible!
