It is Halloween here in New Zealand. Tonight children of all ages will be dressing up in guises of hope and fear. Teenagers will be buying eggs and toilet paper, and telling their parents they'll be at each other's houses until late (which technically isn't lying if by "at their houses" they mean in the back yard vandalizing them). 

But it has been a long time since I've dressed up or egged someone, at least on the outside. My monsters have had time to mature, to become more complex and ingrown. When I dress up as the serial killer, the witch, or the apparition, I do it internally, in the inner, dark robes of my imagination. I am a writer, and so I do not dress up as my demons; I write them.

You might think that this is strange, or that somehow I am unique, but I think there are many writers who feel as I do. Bad things happen, scary things, monstrous things. They happen to us, and around us, or maybe we only hear about them or read about them in the news, but they stick, somewhere deep in our psyches. They lurk under our beds, they hide in our closets, or make scratching noises in the basement of our minds until we can't help but go down there.

Stephen King spends a lot of time visiting the basement of his mind. That seems obvious. But I don't think writing demons is unique to the horror writer. Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. King's demons come dressed as the things that scare him, but those aren't necessarily the same demons I wrestle. Nor do we engage them with the same plots, literary devices or words. The things in the basement can be as easily clothed in fantasy as horror. One can shroud them in science turning them to aliens, other worlds, or spaceships. As far as that goes, the wrangling of demons isn't even limited to fiction. Behold the monsters cower and bow when they are written up as sonnets or limericks or articles for women's magazines.

I write my demons, but please don't confuse that with any desire to destroy them. Demons, I believe, always serve a purpose of self-realization. They lead us somewhere we might never have gone without them. They take us into the dark, the marginalized, inner places that most people never visit. They make us who we are, the storytellers; the warriors who dare to face the dark and come back to the world of light and words with a better ending, a satisfying denouement, a hero's tale, rather than a victim's.  

That is the power of writing for me, that I can battle my monsters with swords, or flames of magic, or I can dress them all in tutus and have them dance the Nutcracker. My words empower me. My stories redefine what I fear, what you fear, what we all fear. 

And so this Halloween I challenge you- what demon has been scratching at your basement door, and when are you going to write it?

You can tell kids there are no such things as monsters. But you'd be lying. Let's be honest for a change, for the sake of Halloween and all that's hallow. There are monsters out there, and most of them are dressed up like humans. Jaycee Lee Dugard, the California girl who was kidnapped at age eleven and kept as a sex slave for 18 years in the back yard of a sex offender - she knows there are monsters. The boy who watches his father beat his mother bloody in a drunken rage- he knows there are monsters. The children molested regularly in their own beds by trusted family members- they know there are monsters, maybe not under the bed, but monsters grim and terrifying all the same. 

Even children kept safe and secure know there are things to fear, monsters in the ranks, and with this truth comes a sense of horrible vulnerability. If you are a child, smaller, and weaker, and denied the power that adult monsters wield, how can you keep yourself safe? You may do everything right, follow all the precautions, and still the monsters may get you. Children often feel powerless about the monsters in their lives, the big, strong, powerful things that control or hurt them. What defense do they have? 

And then in walks Halloween. Evil, pagan, satanic Halloween and it is the perfect gift of empowerment to children (and adults who still need to face their monsters). For three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, monsters wear human flesh and walk among us indiscernible. On one night a year, humans don monster flesh and take the night back, and most of them are children. Petite blond girls and shy bookish boys put on the veil of ghosts and ghouls, witches and serial killers. They carry swords and cleavers. They bathe themselves in fake blood and smile the wicked grin of the fanged. They take on claws. They look out of the too-large eyes of monsterhood and demand from adults that they be given treats. It is a threat, this Trick-or-Treat. It isn't meant to be polite or "thank you for the candy." It is a child's chance to become the monster for a change. It is Max sailing away to Where the Wild Things Are. It is childhood embracing the dark, becoming King of the Beasts, and coming home unscathed to dine in decadence. 

And so, if you're thinking of insisting that your child dress as a cowboy or a ballerina this year. Well, don't. If that is what they want to be, by all means, empower them. But if they want to be something gruesome or frightening, remember this; children know there are monsters out there. They have seen them on the news, in the paper, and possibly in their own neighborhoods or homes. But there is something about becoming the monster, about donning monster flesh, and monster bone, and the monster crown and yelling "Let the Wild Rumpus begin!" 

There is something about Halloween that actually dispels fear, if we let it. 

I've just received an e-mail that Traveling by Petroglyph, which recenlty appeared in Flash Me Magazine (July 2009), and originally appeared in Flash Fiction Online  (October 2008) has been nominated by the editors of Flash Me for this year's Micro Awards.

Thanks guys for nominating it.  And all you friends keep your fingers crossed.

He (is) was a great cat.  One of three kittens that I helped deliver, and he was a caulbearer, born with his amniotic sack completely intact and I had to poke it with my finger to release him so the mother could lick him clean.  Caulbearers are known to be able to see "beyond the veil" into the spirit world and they are also impervious to drowning, but sadly not to accidental abandonment.

I was thrilled to be interviewed about short story and flash writing over at The Book Bundle , which is mainly a book reveiw website. I would love if everyone would go check it out and leave comments on the site or come back and tell me what you think on my LJ.

We begin the move from our serene valley back to the buzzing and active city tomorrow, so if I'm scarce for a bit, that's why.
 

May the new internet connect quickly and without incident. 

Cheers,
Ripley

It isn't hard to find inspiration for Speculative Fiction in New Zealand, because frankly, New Zealand is pretty weird. I mean weird in the nicest way, of course. I am fascinated by weird things, and perhaps it is just weird to me because I'm a foreigner. Still, if that's the reason, it would be weird to the majority of the world, and so I thought I'd share some of its weirdness. Who knows? Something I mention might be spark and feed a story. Below, I've divided up my weirdness observations into various categories. There's a lot of weird, but at least it can be somewhat organized. Enjoy!

WEIRD FLORA: 

One of the first things I thought when I saw the New Zealand bush was that Doctor Seuss wasn't that creative, he'd just obviously visited New Zealand. I mean the cabbage tree is straight out of one of his books. They have tree ferns here. Yes, ferns as big as trees, and little ferns with rivets. They have lots of ferns. But one of the most fascinating things is that in normal countries an immature tree looks like a smaller version of its mature species. Same leaves, and bark, and limb formation, just smaller. Not in New Zealand. In New Zealand many of the tree species look totally different when they are young than they will look when mature. Imagine if baby humans looked like aardvarks, but then grew up to be pale, furless, bipods. Yeah, that's weird.

WEIRD FAUNA: 

New Zealand is kind of like Darwin's Galapagos Adventure, where you can see the effects of evolution on a pretty intimate scale. First, there have never been any significant natural predators in New Zealand (except for man). The only native land mammal is a bat, and it eats insects. So, with no predators, birds really didn't have any reason to fly away and many lost the ability all together. The Kiwi, the Weka, the Takahe, Kakapo, the Pukeko and the Moa are just a few. The Moa is now extinct but was like a cross between a dinosaur and an ostrich. It also happened to look like a large, tasty drumstick to the Maori who hunted it to extinction. The Takahe was presumed extinct in 1930 but was found to be holed up in the mountains in 1948, waiting patiently for man's demise. Again, almost every one of these birds could be a shoe-in for Doctor Seuss's star-bellied sneetches. They also have an alpine parrot here, the Kea, which can rip off your car bumper and has been known to eat people's tents and boots. The only defense against them is playing AC/DC on your car stereo, which they happen to love. Weka's are just as curious and are known to take off into the bush with people's car keys or a bag of groceries. Many of these birds are not only flightless, they are fearless.

One interesting thing I have learned is that in a closed environment, like an island, prey tend to grow larger than normal over time (like the Moa), and predators get smaller. So, if we're around long enough, maybe we'll actually get to see New Zealanders turn into hobbits.

WEIRD CHARACTERS:

Now all places have their unique characters but New Zealand has some pretty awesome ones.  Take the Wizard of New Zealand. This is a man, no a wizard, who speaks in Cathedral Square on a ladder in a robe and sandals with a pointy hat on. He has a long grey beard and is well seasoned in years, like all good wizards. He has been officially acknowledged by the government to be the nation's wizard and has also been categorized as a Living Work of Art by the local arts council. I listen to him quite often and he speaks on everything from history to religion to magic and being a post-feminist man. Oh, and he charges nothing. He isn't a street performer. He's a wizard.

Now, I really wish we could get an approved, national witch as well. 

WEIRD LANDSCAPE: 

Pancake rocks, volcanoes, mountains, avalanches, glaciers, hot springs, lava fields, limestone cliffs, turbulent oceans, placid lakes, swamps, plains, craggy hills, shady valleys, golden bays, peninsulas, islands, rain forests, misty fjord land, waterfalls, windswept sand spits, and more. New Zealand has it all. Some would argue that larger continents like the US have all these things as well, but not in such close proximity to one another. All these features exist on the South Island where I live, and I could drive to almost all of them in under 2 hours. 

Often, writers are given grief for making their landscapes change too quickly and unrealistically from one feature to another, but New Zealand proves, I think, that this is certainly within the realm of possibility. 

WEIRD WEATHER:

The clouds. The Maori name for New Zealand means Land of the Long White Cloud. If you have never seen New Zealand clouds climb over the hills like a monster made of quilt batting, you haven't seen clouds. The clouds here are a living entity, a personality of the sky and landscape. I have seen clouds descend into my valley like a behemoth. I have seen clouds fill a bay like cotton served up in a giant's bowl. New Zealand clouds have substance and presence. They aren't just in the sky, they come down to earth to visit. This clouded aspect of New Zealand inspired my recent short story, The Future of the Sky, which I am planning to enter in the Au Contraire short story contest once it has run through Critters.

The wind is a monster as well here- a character of air. Being an ocean island located midway between the equator and the South Pole, we have our maritime warm Nor'westers and our cold Southerlies. The wind sounds like a train or a beast coming down our valley, which acts as somewhat of a wind tunnel. The New Zealand Wind featured as a minor character in my story Sheep Women and Dog Boys. Wind brings change. It makes the cats bounce off the walls. It energizes some people, and makes other cranky and depressed. When you go outside it batters you. When you go inside, it seems to batter the house even harder. And the direction of the wind can change on a dime. One minute it is warm, the next it whips the other way and brings a chill all the way from the Antarctic. It can slam all the doors of your house at once, and take your laundry down the lane to the neighbor's farm. It definitely has a weird will all its own.   

Well, I find this weird post growing long. I don't think I've touched on all the wonderful weirdness of New Zealand, but I hope I've given you a taste, a glimpse, and maybe an idea for your next speculative fiction story.

On a regular basis I am asked what brought me to New Zealand. I get asked this by the American friends and family I left behind. I get asked this by almost every new person I meet here in New Zealand. Usually, I answer rather flippantly. I say my husband dragged me here, or I say they finally opened the US borders and we ran while we could. I answer this way because the real answer, the true answer, is long and complex and multi-faceted and people's eyes would roll back in their heads if I gave it. 

However, I think I can give a bit of it here and now, during New Zealand Spec Fic Blogging Week.

Traveling has always been like a bit of magic to me, and it has always been closely connected to writing. As a child, my family toured and camped the US and Canada many times over, and I wrote stories to while away the long hours in the car. Many of my published stories have been inspired by my travels. "The Derby" and "Traveling by Petroglyph" came after a five week tour of Alaska, mostly on the Inland Passage ferry system. Traveling takes you out of your familiar landscape, it jars your reality. It introduces you to characters you would never meet or know otherwise. Traveling is external motion. Storytelling is internal motion. They are two manifestations of the same thing. In all good stories, the protagonist travels. She might travel on foot, or on horse, or by spaceship, but she also travels through internal change. The two kinds of travel are entwined, one with the other.

And on really big quests in the really good stories, the protagonist doesn't just go visit somewhere close by and vaguely familiar. No, the best stories are when she is taken completely out of her element, to a foreign land, or a different planet where nothing is like what she is used to. There she learns that her homeland's customs are not the only customs, her language not the only way to express, her people not the most civilized, her landscape not the only beauty, her god not the only holy entity. In that new, strange place, she cannot run back to the comforts of home. She must stay and face her fears, her truths unraveled to new, more informed and complicated truths. She must be changed. 

That is what brought me to New Zealand- a hero's quest. I wanted to live in a different world than the one I had grown used to. I wanted that new place to inform my writing and my life. I wanted to be surprised by the landscape around the next corner, by a new history, and culture and politic.

I can say with all honesty, that I have not been disappointed. After three years, New Zealand is still unfolding her treasures before me. She is a land of mystery and great creative power. Since moving here my writing career has taken off in leaps and bounds.

I am a stranger in a strange land, and I am loving it. 

Thank you, Aotearoa

Stay tuned for tomorrow's post, in which I reveal the Weird Side of New Zealand.  And believe me, it can get pretty weird.

You know those sampler plates that restaurants have full of appetizers like onion rings, hot wings, chicken fingers or crispy, deep-fried jalapeño poppers. Well, I thought to offer you today, a sampler of New Zealand Spec Fic authors. I'm only going to give you a nibble, a bite, a little taste to share with your friends and whet your appetite. After that, it will be up to you to go out to your local library or book store and get the full meal deal.

Crunchy, Mouth-Watering and Good with Mayo:

Russell Kirkpatrick: Do you enjoy intricate, lovingly-detailed maps and high fantasy trilogies akin to Lewis or Tolkien? Then you should try more than a sample of author Russell Kirkpatrick who started life as a cartographer, once mapped fear itself, and has the physique of a very handsome hobbit. His book Across the Face of the World was the 2008 bestselling debut novel in the US according to Bookscan sales data. You can find more about Russell and his works at his website.

Helen Lowe:  Poet, YA writer, and fantasy author Helen Lowe recently burst onto the scene with her debut YA fantasy novel Thornspell, which received the Sir Julius Vogel Award 2009 for Best Novel in its category. Her first book of a four part series, The Wall of Night, is scheduled for release in September 2010 with Eos (HarperCollins USA). You can find out more about Helen and her writing at her website. 

Lyn McConchie: Want to meet the patron goddess of New Zealand Spec Fic writers? Let me present Lyn McConchie. Lyn is somewhat of a legend around these parts. She was a good friend and collaborator of Andre Norton's and has been publishing just about everything she writes in almost every genre and length since she started submitting work in 1991. You can find a great interview with her here . Lyn also write non-fiction about life on her small New Zealand farm under the name Elizabeth Underwood. Her website can be found here.

Hugh Cook:  Hugh Cook died in November of 2008, but he is not forgotten. His first novel Plague Summer was published in 1980 when he was 24. Along with his massive fantasy novel series, The Chronicles of an Age of Darkness, Hugh has an incredible list of short story publications. Many full samples of his short works can be found at his website here.

Philippa Ballatine: In 2006 Philippa Ballatine became the first New Zealand author to podcast a novel. That book, Chasing the Bard, follows William Shakespeare into the world of the fey, and has been followed by Digital Magic, both now available in print from Dragon Moon Press. Philippa has also just signed a two book deal with Ace books. More of her work can be accessed on Podiobooks.com and her Erotica a la Carte podcast is not to be missed. Links to come as right now the library internet system seems to think Philippa is just a little too spicy!