Review of To Shape a Dragon’s Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose
May
06
2026
To Shape a Dragon's Breath
by Moniquill Blackgoose
528pp (Trade Paperback)
My Rating: 8/10
LibraryThing Rating: 4.18/5
Goodreads Rating: 4.1/5
 

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To Shape a Dragon’s Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose, the first book in a trilogy set in an alternate historical version of our world with dragons, was one of my favorite books published in 2023. Since I wanted to refresh my memory before reading To Ride a Rising Storm, the second book in the Nampeshiweisit trilogy that was released earlier this year, I decided to reread it and write a lengthier review than my previous best-of-the-year summary before continuing the series.

Fortunately, I found To Shape a Dragon’s Breath every bit as delightful as it was the first time I read it. Once again, I was a bit puzzled by just how much I enjoyed it since I tend to gravitate toward books with complex, messy characters dealing with internal conflicts, and this novel’s protagonist is very much the opposite: someone with a strong sense of self who comes close to being a bit too neat and perfect at times, though I felt this fit her background and character since she doesn’t quite cross the line into unbelievably faultless. I suppose my love of academic settings, fantasy of manners, and characters who call out ridiculous social rules supersedes my love of deeply flawed protagonists when handled as well as Blackgoose did in her award-winning debut novel—and it actually ended up being refreshing to follow a self-assured character helping those who are still trying to figure out who they want to be in this case.

Though published through an adult speculative fiction imprint, To Shape a Dragon’s Breath has received recognition in both young adult and adult fiction award categories. It tells the story of a young Indigenous woman who attends a college-like academy for people bonded with dragons in an alternate 1840s North America (set in the New England region, namely versions of Rhode Island and Massachusetts). The novel opens with the protagonist, Anequs, becoming the first person from her island to see a dragon in ages, prompting her to discover an egg that was left behind. After this egg hatches, Anequs also becomes the only one of her people in living memory chosen to be a dragon’s companion. Since much of her people’s knowledge about dragons and their bonds with humans has been lost over time, Anequs ends up deciding it is her duty to go to a dragon academy run by the colonizers on the mainland after her dragon accidentally burns her younger sister when frightened.

Life at the academy is a challenge for Anequs, between navigating a different culture with different social rules and learning some unfamiliar subjects, particularly the chemistry-based system that allows someone to shape a dragon’s breath into various elements. Worst of all, many people do not want Anequs at the academy, and her studies are made more difficult by several people—ranging from her fellow students to her teachers to powerful politicians—who feel threatened by the idea of Indigenous people having dragons, particularly now that there are a grand total of two of them. But Anequs is determined to succeed: if she cannot prove she’s capable of shaping her dragon’s breath and preventing her from being a danger to others, the cost will be her dragon’s life.

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath has collected several awards and accolades since its 2023 publication—including winning the Andre Norton and Lodestar Awards and being nominated for the Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel—and it’s easy to see why. I found it riveting from start to finish, and I loved the world, the oral stories sprinkled throughout, and the school setting. Although I prefer stories with more richly developed characters, felt conflicts were often resolved too quickly and easily, and thought major events toward the end were not given the weight they deserved, I found this to be an engaging, delightful book that stood out more than most of those I read.

I can’t comment on the next book in the series yet, but this novel is somewhat small in scale, focusing on a localized region containing a couple of islands and the area on the mainland relatively close to the school. The stakes are not the fate of the world, and although a lot of it feels low stakes given the heavy focus on classes and social gatherings, the stakes certainly aren’t low for Anequs and her dragon. While dragons are sacred to Anequs and her people, she discovers that the Anglish people who came across the ocean kill dragons they consider feral and have even put them to death because they don’t like their choice of companion. These dragons are wild animals that can be a danger to people, and although they form a bond with a human, they aren’t the type who use language or communicate clearly. The dragon and their human companion can only sense what the other is feeling in the moment, such as when Anequs picks up on the fear that makes her dragon loose the breath that hurts her sister early in the novel—and it’s vital for these creatures’ safety and longevity that they learn to refrain from actions making them seem too prone to violence.

In this version of the world, there never was a Roman Empire. The people who colonized North America followed Scandinavian culture and traditions, and though the names have been slightly altered, many of their stories and holidays are steeped in Norse mythology. In addition to containing alternate history, there are also speculative elements in the form of steampunk/Gaslamp fantasy technology like automated horses, chairs with crab-like legs for those unable to walk, and various inventions powered by the dragon’s breath that can be broken down and shaped into different elements.

Despite these speculative and historical changes, the Anglish people in this setting did carry over the hierarchical views and social rules associated with the Victorian era. Part of what I found compelling about this book was being immersed in this society while getting the first-person perspective of an outsider who didn’t grow up with these rules and often challenges them. Anequs doesn’t see any reason she can’t befriend a maid or consider courting a woman (or a man and a woman at the same time), and it doesn’t make sense to her that some things are “for ladies” and others are “for gentlemen.” But as much as I enjoyed her character, I sometimes wondered if maybe she seemed a little too wise and together, given she always seemed to have all the answers and not one drop of uncertainty. Although I can’t think of many qualities she has that would be considered flaws, I feel like she’s just imperfect enough to be realistic. There are times she speaks her mind when it may not be advisable, even if she does tend to be in the right and being outspoken doesn’t get her into as much trouble as one might expect. Given that, the main factor that convinced me was a moment when she realized she’d previously been wrong to dismiss her roommate’s offer of help as not being useful after she’d gained a better understanding of Anglish society.

After putting some thought into it, I ended up deciding that being wise and together fit her character. Although she’s only fifteen years old at the start of the novel, she’s been an adult in her culture for two years at that point. As the older daughter in a family with four children, she’s also been raised to understand how to run a household with the expectation that she’ll take her mother’s place one day, and she’s helped look after her two younger siblings. Her reactions to life among the Anglish showed she was raised in a culture that valued respecting others and allowing them to be who they were so long as they weren’t hurting anyone else. Starting from this point earlier in life seems like it would make it easier to be self-assured and secure in oneself at a younger age, and she wouldn’t have to unpack all the social baggage so many accumulate and end up contending with when they leave home for the first time.

With these qualities, Anequs is the person in the friend group who is always giving good advice, trying to help, and supporting everyone else. The other students and young people around her have more internal conflicts and struggles with figuring out who they want to be and how they can exist in their society. Liberty, an indentured maid with a talent for sewing whom Anequs befriends and crushes on, has had to hide that she is only attracted to other women. Theod, the other Indigenous student (whom Anequs also crushes on), only knows what the Anglish have told him of his heritage, having been raised among them after his parents were executed when he was a child, and is frustrated by Anequs’s refusal to behave as expected and try to blend in. Sander, who becomes Anequs’s friend after he helps her in one of their classes, is often treated poorly and underestimated due to his autism. Marta, Anequs’s roommate as the only other young woman attending the academy, has a lot of the aforementioned social baggage but seems to have a good heart underneath it all—if only she can learn to follow it instead of pursuing status and propriety, which she feels is even more necessary given she’s going into a male-dominated field and is therefore a bit of an oddity.

I enjoyed all these characters and their dynamics with Anequs, and I also appreciated the variety of adults at the academy. Its headmistress is the type who has often been the protagonist in a fantasy novel: she disguised herself as a boy to gain access to the male field of dragoneering when she was young, eventually becoming the first woman in the field. Though she has some clashes with Anequs due to her overall Anglishness and insistence on “proper” behavior—in large part because she realizes there are many people looking for excuses to make her stop doing unusual things like teaching people who aren’t young white men—she’s also advised by the softhearted matron of the house who tends to be sympathetic to the students. The professors range from one who actively tries to sabotage Anequs’s education to one who supports her by showing that she knows a lot more about natural philosophy than she thinks she does when starting his class. Most of the others are between those two: it’s common for them to do things like show surprise at Anequs’s knowledge or make uncomfortable comments related to her people and culture, but they don’t seem to be trying to make her studies any more difficult than they’re supposed to be.

As much as I enjoyed the dragons and the scholastic setting, I found the alternate world and the mythological stories covering subjects like how one of Anequs’s people became the first to bond with a dragon stood out more (and as previously mentioned, I love fantasy of manners). Yet in the end, what I found most memorable was Anequs herself: like many characters in this novel, she was shaped by her background and circumstances, and she showed what formidable strength can come from growing up among those who value community and acceptance. I look forward to reading more about her and seeing where her story goes next in To Ride a Rising Storm.

My Rating: 8/10

Where I got my reading copy: Finished copy from the publisher.

Read/Listen to a Sample from To Shape a Dragon’s Breath

Read Moniquill Blackgoose’s 2023 Women in SF&F Month Essay

Women in SF&F Month 2026: Thank You and Links
Apr
29
2026

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Thank you so very much to all of this year’s guests for making April 2026 another incredible Women in SF&F Month! And thank you to everyone who shared guest posts and helped spread the word about this year’s series. It is always very much appreciated!

Now that all of this year’s essays are up, I wanted to make sure there was a way to find all guest posts from 2026. This was (somehow) the fifteenth annual Women in SF&F Month, which is dedicated to featuring some of the many women doing fantastic work in speculative fiction genres. Guest posts have included both discussions related to women in fantasy and/or science fiction and discussions related to an author’s work, experiences as a reader and/or writer, and creating stories, characters, and/or worlds.

You can browse through all the Women in SF&F Month 2026 guest posts here, or you can find a brief summary of each with its link below.

Women in SF&F Month 2026 Guest Posts

Veronica G. Henry — “The Birthplace of Consciousness”
The People’s Library author Veronica G. Henry wrote about one of the main themes from her latest novel and the importance of the number zero in shaping her concept.

Elaine Ho
Cry, Voidbringer author Elaine Ho discussed a question she explores in her dark political fantasy novel: “Why do post-colonial societies perpetuate the same crimes as their oppressors?”

Ai Jiang — “A Different Kind of Comfort”
Natural Engines author Ai Jiang wrote about how stories exploring identity and the self particularly resonate with her and shared about a few she found impactful.

Shay Kauwe — “The Kuleana of Being an Eldest Daughter”
The Killing Spell author Shay Kauwe shared about what being an eldest daughter means to her and making the protagonist in her urban fantasy novel an eldest child who goes on the Heroine’s Journey.

Isabel J. Kim — “Writing the Other”
Sublimation author Isabel J. Kim discussed a question she was asked regarding writing a different gender and her approach to writing characters outside her comfort zone with examples from her science fiction debut novel.

Samantha Mills — “Epic Worldbuilding in Short Fiction”
Rabbit Test and Other Stories author Samantha Mills shared what she learned about writing SFF short fiction when she went from creating novel-length works to short stories.

Cheryl S. Ntumy — “The Gods Made Me Do It: Spirituality and Autonomy in They Made Us Blood and Fury“
Chronicles of the Countless Clans author Cheryl S. Ntumy discussed gods and religion in her fantasy novel, as well as some of the questions she kept in mind when writing it.

E. J. Swift — “Reclaiming space in the great outdoors”
When There Are Wolves Again author E. J. Swift shared about her love of the natural world and how this relates to the ideas she explores in her two latest science fiction novels.

Sonia Tagliareni — “Does a Soft Female Lead Belong in SFF?”
Deathbringer author Sonia Tagliareni discussed the power of softer female characters and Viola, the lead from her dark academia/fantasy romance novel.

Tesia Tsai — “The Fate of the Eldest Daughter”
Deathly Fates author Tesia Tsai wrote about how being an eldest daughter impacts the women she writes and their growth.

Nghi Vo — “No Wrong Schedules”
Singing Hills Cycle author Nghi Vo shared about her experience with trying Ursula K. Le Guin’s writing routine and discovering it doesn’t matter where or when she writes as long as words get on the page.

Lorraine Wilson — “Finding hope — writing in hard times, the ‘punk’, and envisioning better futures”
The Salt Oracle author Lorraine Wilson discussed the difficulty of being creative with everything going on in the world and shared some methods that have helped her continue to write and find the light.

Women in SF&F Month: Ai Jiang
Apr
27
2026

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Ai Jiang! Her poetry and short stories include “We Smoke Pollution,” winner of the 2023 Ignyte Award for Best in Speculative Poetry, and “Give Me English,” a Nebula and Locus Award finalist for Best Short Story. She is also the author of the Bram Stoker and Nebula Award–winning horror novella Linghun and the science fantasy novel An Empire in the Clouds (coming in September). Her next book, A River From the Sky, comes out tomorrow and will complete the science fantasy duology Natural Engines that starts with A Palace Near the Wind. I’m thrilled she’s here today to share about the types of stories that resonate with her in “A Different Kind of Comfort.”

Cover of A River From the Sky by Ai Jiang

About A River From the Sky:

From the Nebula and Bram Stoker Award®-winning author comes the lyrical and moving science-fantasy follow-up to A Palace Near the Wind, as Lufeng and her sister Sangshu fight to protect their culture and their world. For readers of Nghi Vo, Amal El-Mohtar and Kritika H. Rao.

Fleeing from the Palace and crashing into the waters below its steep walls, Lufeng and her siblings reach Gear, with its huge deadly water wheels, where their sister Sangshu is waiting for them. In the chaos of the enormous waves, within moments they’re snatched away and taken into rebel territory, where they learn more of the deadly experiments Zinc has wreaked upon the people.

Loyal to Copper now, Sangshu herself is a victim of Zinc’s experiments. Desperate to find her family, she races through Gear to Engine, ruthless Zinc’s industrial heartland, where she burns with a desire to fix her own mistakes and those of others and find a way to save her world.

This powerful, beautifully told novella explores the bonds of family, the pain of leaving all you have known behind, and the terrible price of our industrial future.

A Different Kind of Comfort
By Ai Jiang

Lately, I have been reflecting much on the various media I consume and what has lingered with me over time, and something I noticed is that the works that resonate with me most are ones exploring identity and the self.

During university, the book that brought me most comfort, along with the writer who became such an inspiration to me, is A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. At the time, I was grappling with all the mistakes I had made in life up to that point, as a result of the arrogance of idealism, and the regret that followed. Within me, a darkness grew, and it was not one I knew how to cast light upon, because to recognize it meant accepting failure. Growing up, I had always believed that failure was unacceptable rather than something necessary. And it was through Ursula K. Le Guin’s novel that I was able to overcome regret, to reconcile with a part of myself that I believed had been shameful.

When I had first entered the short story space, about two years after graduating from the University of Toronto, one of the first stories I’d read while trying to work on my own writing craft was Isabel J. Kim’s “Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self”. Till this day, it remains one of my favorite short stories of all time, as it interweaves an element of folklore with speculative fiction set in a world that feels one step removed from our own. As I read this story, I felt a hollow ache within me slowly being mended. Kim had put into words the very dividedness of straddling two cultures I’ve felt my entire life, of the conflict between external society and at-home life and cultural community, the teachings that sometimes contradict one another, and the questions of “What if?” What if I had not left my birth country? What kind of person would I have become? Would it have been better? Worse?

This brings me to the 2022 movie Everything Everywhere All at Once that essentially encapsulates everything I have ever contemplated in my life, about myself, about my family and those around me. Evelyn and her multiverse reveal all the possibilities that we wish for and dream about as immigrants and members of the diaspora—these pockets of space hold not only our own hopes but also those of our parents’. It breaks down the confines and constrictions that society has placed on us and we have placed on ourselves. Evelyn’s experience helped me reflect on my own familial dynamics and struggles. Particularly my relationship with my mother.

Sometimes, I find myself at the dinner table, bowls and plates still littered across the surface not yet cleared, peering at the leftovers that remain in front of us, staring at what I have always felt was the comfort of home, and asking, ruefully, what my parents’ dreams were, and what they are now. And they always answer the former question with an incredulous chuckle, as if they were an impossibility. And then they answer the latter question, and it always involves their children, me and my sister, and sometimes I wish they would save those dreams for themselves—especially my mother, my grandmother, who I believe had their dreams taken from them before they could even think to have them.

So I suppose what fantasy and science fiction has become for me is a depiction of what could be and what could have been, what never was and never will be, and my hope is to continue writing about women who have suffered at the hands of the world and both those who are able to overcome, and those who wish that they had and couldn’t. I believe both types of stories, whether hopeful or bitter, may be able to provide different comforts—because I know they have for me.

Photo of Ai Jiang by Yizhi Zhang
Photography by Yizhi Zhang		 Ai Jiang is a Chinese-Canadian writer, winner of the Bram Stoker®, Nebula and Ignyte Awards, and Hugo, Astounding, Locus, and BSFA Award finalist, and an immigrant from Changle, Fujian currently residing in Toronto, Ontario. Her work can be found in F&SF, The Dark, Uncanny, The Masters Review, among others. She is the recipient of Odyssey Workshop’s 2022 Fresh Voices Scholarship and the author of Linghun and I AM AI. The first book of her novella duology, A Palace Near the Wind, is out now, with A River From the Sky coming in Spring 2026. Find her on most social media platforms and for more information go to aijiang.ca.
Women in SF&F Month: Final Week Schedule & Week in Review
Apr
26
2026

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The fifteenth annual Women in SF&F Month closes this week with one final guest post on Monday, which will be followed by a link list containing all this month’s articles on Wednesday. Thank you so much to last week’s guests for another excellent week of essays!

Before announcing the upcoming schedule, here are last week’s essays in case you missed any of them.

All guest posts from April 2026 can be found here, and last week’s guest posts were:

The giveaway for two copies of Rabbit Test and Other Stories by Samantha Mills ended last week. I have heard back from the winners of both the print copy and the ebook, so if you haven’t heard from me: Sorry, you didn’t win this time. (And if you did hear from me: Congratulations, hope you enjoy the book!)

The final guest post of the month will be going up tomorrow, and I’ll be posting all the links on Wednesday so you can find them in one place and catch up on any you missed. This week’s essay is by:

Women in SF&F Month Schedule Graphic

April 27: Ai Jiang (A Palace Near the Wind, A River From the Sky, An Empire in the Clouds)

Women in SF&F Month: Sonia Tagliareni
Apr
24
2026

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Sonia Tagliareni! Her novel Deathbringer, which is described as “a dark academia romantasy steeped in necromancy, forbidden love and a twisty murder mystery set within the perilous halls of a magical institute,” will be published on April 28 in the UK and May 19 in the US. I’m delighted she’s here today to discuss her main character—a death mage who despises her ability—in “Does a Soft Female Lead Belong in SFF?”

Deluxe Edition Cover of Deathbringer by Sonia Tagliareni

About Deathbringer:

Order the deluxe limited edition of Deathbringer now—a stunning, collectible hardcover edition featuring stenciled edges, endpapers, and a foil-stamped case—only available on the first printing while supplies last!

For fans of Naomi Novik and Kerri Maniscalco, “a slow-burn dark academia filled with delicious yearning, dripping with atmosphere, and a compelling mystery” (Ellis Hunter, author of Blood Bound) about a death mage who hates her magic and a poison mage who hates her that are forced to work together to stop a killer before one of them is next.

Everything about Sylas Archyr feels like a sin.

Born with the ability to speak with the dead, Viola’s magic killed her sister, Olivia, and if she doesn’t learn why, it will kill her too. Her only hope lies within the perilous walls of Gorhail Institute of Magic, where Olivia spent her final days.

There, Viola clashes with Sylas, a poison mage whose magic stems from three magical snakes. Immortal, tormented, and reckless, Sylas is tethered to a life he never asked for and haunted by guilt for his father’s death. His hatred for death mages runs deep, and he’s determined to keep Viola at a distance. But when an attack forces him to heal her, their fates become intertwined by a magical bond that threatens to upend his loyalties—and his common sense.

As more students start turning up dead, Viola and Sylas are drawn into an uneasy alliance that pulls them deeper into Gorhail’s treacherous passageways, where secrets fester beneath the stone and the dead do not rest. And as enemy lines begin to blur and their undeniable attraction grows, Viola and Sylas uncover a chilling conspiracy: someone is hunting mages for their magical relics, and if they can’t uncover the killer in time, Viola will be next.

Does a Soft Female Lead Belong in SFF?
Sonia Tagliareni

What makes a female character strong? Somewhere along the way, the definition of strength became muddled, wrapped in this patriarchal aesthetic of what it means to be a strong female lead in SFF. That strength is often highlighted by the physical capabilities the character brings to the table. Now this isn’t to say we don’t need our fearless master swordsmith on an insatiable quest for revenge or our gifted assassin with a sharp tongue. We have loved them for decades, and we will continue to love them, but where does that leave our soft, quiet female leads? Those who don’t know how to fight, those who are terrible at honing their magic, those who fail more than they win? Let me introduce you to Viola, my main character in Deathbringer.

Viola hates her magic. She has no desire to become Gorhail’s next great mage, and this remains unchanged for a while. When her sister dies, she needs to set aside that hatred and exist amongst people possessing the very magic she despises to solve her murder. Spoiler: it doesn’t go well. What I love about Viola is that despite not knowing how to practice magic, despite being terrified of this new world she’s thrown in, despite risking death as she undertakes this journey, she’s resilient. She knows she’s out of her depth, but she still tries. She trusts as easily as she forgives, she makes mistakes, and above all, she is painfully and wholly human.

Everyone around Viola is far more magically accomplished than her at Gorhail Institute. In theory, there’s zero reason for her to succeed in her quest there; it would be impossible (and frankly preposterous) for her to master decades of magic within a few days, and chasing after a murderer alone is a recipe for disaster. And yet, through her wit, her kindness and compassion, she manages to carve her place among the rest of the cast and proves to be an asset to them. Her strength lies in her empathy, in her readiness to help, her willingness to forgive not just others but herself.

Through her journey, I kept asking myself: how does she remain so soft when the world around her is constantly trying to sharpen her edges? I quickly understood that she wasn’t a character that needed sharpening to shine—she just needed permission to be human. And that was one of my non-negotiables about Viola (to be honest, she refused to be written any other way!)—I needed her to be exactly like all the other girls. That’s what made her so compelling to write.

Now…per the patriarchal definition of strength, Viola isn’t fit to lead a story. She has often been described as “too quiet” or “weak” or “boring because she’s too nice”. I like to joke that one of the tropes in Deathbringer is the “unchosen one” because Viola just does not want to be there; she fails a lot and needs quite a bit of help. Still, what’s fascinating about her is that she isn’t afraid to be vulnerable, and she will accept help when she really needs it. And I think that there is a formidable strength in vulnerability, in a character who can sit with their limitations, acknowledging them and working past them to achieve their goal. That’s why I wrote her. Soft girls deserve adventures too, and their ability to wield a weapon shouldn’t be the sole determination of whether they fit in a fantasy novel or not.

Photo of Sonia Tagliareni by AJ Tagliareni
Photography by AJ Tagliareni		 Sonia Tagliareni is a fantasy author who’s always looking for the next best cup of tea. The first story she wrote was a murder mystery for French class at thirteen, and rumor has it the murderer outsmarted her but also left her with a deep love of storytelling. Born and raised in Mauritius, she moved to the United States before deciding she prefers to hop around the world. If she’s not glued to her laptop, you can find her dragging her husband and son to high tea. Visit SoniaTagliareni.com for more information.
Women in SF&F Month: Nghi Vo
Apr
22
2026

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Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Nghi Vo! Her short stories and novelettes include the Hugo Award winner “Stitched to Skin like Family Is” and the Shirley Jackson Award winner “What the Dead Know.” She is also the author of the fantasy novels Siren Queen, which was a World Fantasy, Locus, and Ignyte Award finalist, and The City in Glass, which was a finalist for the Mythopoeic Fantasy and Locus Awards plus the Ursula K. Le Guin Prize. Her next book, A Long and Speaking Silence, will be released on May 5 and is the seventh installment in The Singing Hills Cycle, a series of novellas inspired by East Asian and Southeast Asian history and mythology that begins with the Hugo and Crawford Award–winning book The Empress of Salt and Fortune. I’m excited she’s here today to discuss what she’s discovered about writing routines in “No Wrong Schedules.”

Cover of A Long and Speaking Silence by Nghi Vo

About A Long and Speaking Silence:

A LONG AND SPEAKING SILENCE is a stand-alone story of refugees, roots, and finding one’s place in the world. It expands upon the beautifully imagined, immersive universe Vo introduced in The Empress of Salt and Fortune. This is a fantastic entry point into the series that has been shortlisted for the Lambda Literary Award, the Locus Award, and the Ignyte Award, and has won the Crawford Award and the Hugo Award.

On the banks of the Ya-lé River, the town of Luntien gathers to celebrate the start of the rainy season, but the celebration is marred by the arrival of refugees from the sea. Everyone has a story about the foreigners newly in their midst—lazy, violent, unwanted—while the refugees themselves grieve the loss of the home they loved. Cleric Chih, very recently still Novice Chih, is also a stranger in Luntien. With their hoopoe companion Almost Brilliant by their side, Chih must help the refugees while also unraveling a mystery that may have roots in their own faraway home in the abbey of Singing Hills.

No Wrong Schedules
by Nghi Vo

A while back, I was up for the Ursula K. Le Guin Prize for Fiction. Didn’t win, but I did get this fantastic framed piece of art: a cartoon self-portrait of Le Guin herself, back to the viewer at her desk and working away, a cat keeping her company. I loved it and hung it over my own desk, where my own cat often stares up at me angrily.

I don’t pretend to have a lot in common with the esteemed and much-missed Le Guin, but I do smile a little wistfully when I look at her workspace in that cartoon. It reminds me of her famous schedule that gets passed around in writing spaces so often, the one that starts with getting to work at 7:15AM and knocking off at noon for lunch. It describes a routine devoted to art and tolerable existence, firmly bordered and gorgeously orderly. Every time this beautiful thing comes my way, I’m fired with the urge to try something similar. You know, up with an alarm, a routine that can be contained by normal space and time, a cat that doesn’t have to worry about when I’ll be returning home from sea.

And every time I try it, it works for like a week at most, and soon enough, I’m up ‘til 4AM, eating quarter-cups of shredded cheese and calling it dinner, and on the phone with my best friend Carolyn saying something like “Oh yeah, no, I can totally come over, I’ll work after I get home.” At this point, I don’t know if it’s a lack of discipline, some weird brain chemistry or some small part of me that just hates order, but the regular schedule with its beautiful boundaries and predictable outcomes doesn’t seem to be for me.

I guess it makes a certain amount of sense. Before I was a novelist, I was a freelancer, writing mostly, but available for whatever other gigs might come along and make me some rent money. I was pretty used to working a catering gig for a week, transporting library books for a month, and settling in to write 20,000 words on vacuum cleaner parts for a while after that.

I dragged my laptop from place to place, and I set up wherever I could, including the lunchroom at my tech support job, the library where my then-partner went to college, and my friend’s living room on an old wooden TV tray. I had a desk, I always had a desk, and writing did happen there, but mostly it happened when I had been kicked out of the other places.

I like to think I’ve come along in my career since then (at least, there are no more vacuum cleaner parts in my immediate future), but some things haven’t changed.

I was working at my desk ’til dawn last Friday, and a few days before that I was typing away at one of the counters at O’Hare International Airport. I don’t have a great relationship with O’Hare, but I have gotten several thousand words of various things typed up in Terminal G. I do a good chunk of writing these days in the control room of a recording studio in Milwaukee, that’s a fun one, and in Carolyn’s guest room in northern Illinois. Right now, I’m at my local library, pleased to have found an outlet so I can stay a little longer. It’s a nice day, so in a bit, I’m probably going to go wander around for a while, and then head home and write some more at that desk I like so much.*

As I’ve started to do events and meet other writers, something that I’ve never really done much before, I’ve met a lot of people who are worried that they’re doing it wrong, writing wrong, researching wrong, existing wrong, maybe. Mostly what I tell them is that if words are getting on the page, there’s only so wrong it can go. Books begin and end with words on the page, and they really don’t care how they get there. You can write books on a beautiful schedule that’s the envy of most of speculative fiction publishing. You can also write books sitting cross-legged on the ground at Dulles International Airport during a winter storm. Did you get words on the page? Then you’re doing it right.

I’ll likely try something like Le Guin’s schedule again. It’s good to try things, and I’ll probably enjoy it while I’m on it. At the same time, I’m aware that a few weeks after that, I’ll be curled up on Carolyn’s couch, trying to keep her cat Bailey from headbutting my laptop to the floor, making wordcount at 3 in the morning.

Knowing me, I’ll probably enjoy that too.

 

*I do use it for work. It’s just also the best place for the sewing kit, the fountain pen repair supplies, the computer repair kit, the watercolors, the jewelry-making stuff, and the cat. There’s a lot going on in there!

Photo of Nghi Vo NGHI VO is the author of the novels Siren Queen and The Chosen and the Beautiful, as well as the acclaimed novellas of the Singing Hills Cycle, which began with The Empress of Salt and Fortune. The series entries have been finalists for the Nebula Award, the Locus Award, and the Lambda Literary Award, and have won the Crawford Award, the Ignyte Award, and the Hugo Award. Born in Illinois, she now lives on the shores of Lake Michigan. She believes in the ritual of lipstick, the power of stories, and the right to change your mind.