I’m writing this from the Royal Court Theatre in London where, as a Writers’ Card member, I have free use of their writing space. While I don’t have a garden/yard of my own, my downstairs neighbours said yes to my request to keep potted plants in the gravel-filled space out front, and I recently had a salad of fresh lettuce I grew.

This weekend, I watched Brighton’s Pride parade, brought my books to a DJed Pride event to sell, and went to a cat cafe, where a furry little rascal named Fifi tried to steal my creamy drink.

Writing wise, I’ve been busy. I took part in two podcasts with The Good Book Life: Protecting Pride, which discussed the growing trend of removing Pride and LGBTQI+ displays from UK libraries and the importance of representation in the face of censorship, and Reading by the Swamp: Alternative Summer Reads, where we recommended unconventional favourites for the season.

I have a new story published in Mythaxis. "Rooted" features workplace burnout, a garden/forest Workaway, and an uncanny hostess. Talk about "getting back to your roots!" You can read it here, or listen to an audio version.

I took part in Aggh! Zine’s zine-making workshop, where I made a playlist zine for my YA novel Chasing Harmony (themes: gifted kid burnout, bi angst, Canada in the 90s/00s, and lots and lots of music). You can see the zine below (so much fun to make!), and listen to the Spotify playlist for my book here.

But…

So often, there’s a “but.”

When Plans Change

Publishing is a changeable business, and it just so happens that my entire publication schedule has changed at once.

I had a book planned for release this year. My literary romance novella, the project that got me through lockdown, is now going to be out next year - fall 2027 - instead.

The anthology I’m editing has moved from a March 2027 release to a June 2027 release.

My other planned 2027 book will, most likely (hopefully), be a 2028 book.

I’m looking forward to launching these books on their revised timelines. And it feels like a big adjustment at a time when multiple changes have converged.

Other things that I was hoping for, planning for, this year didn’t end up happening at all. A theatre show didn’t happen. A festival didn’t happen. Some big personal plans, the type of thing I don’t write about in newsletters, also didn’t happen.

I’ve been sitting with my disappointment when plans fall through, and asking myself, “What can I do instead? What’s within my control?”

Often, we do our best, but outcomes are partly or wholly beyond our control.

We can’t necessarily turn a “no” into a “yes,” or a “later” into a “now.”

We can, however, to paraphrase a saying, look for a window when a door closes.

Collecting Rejections

Writers get a lot of rejections.

I first read about the idea of collecting these rejections in a Literary Hub article when it came out in 2016. Writer Kim Liao proposed the idea of collecting 100 rejections a year. If you aim to get rejected by that many magazines, fellowships, residencies, or whatever else, you’ll likely get a few acceptances along the way.

I didn’t end up actively counting rejections at the time, though I did start tracking my story submissions.

More recently, actor and content creator Gabriella Carr has gone viral for pursuing 1000 rejections. And Jia Jiang has written a book about rejection therapy (as he calls it), after challenging himself to face rejection for 100 days in a row by asking for unusual things. Beyond the literary world, rejection can be pursued as a confidence-building exercise or a way to increase personal resilience.

Since I started hearing more “nos” this year, I’ve created a spreadsheet. I list the things I’ve applied or asked for, when, and the result. Most of them are “nos.” But a few are “yeses.”

We can’t always control the answers we get, or the plans that change. But we can ask.

What have you asked for lately? What would you like to?

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Local Queer Events

Last week, I spent an evening reading and assisting with Queer Diary, an event where queer adults read from their teenage diaries and creative writing. We sold swag, ended with a dance featuring throwback tracks, and I joined the line-up to read from a novel I wrote at age 13 (to much laughter).

And this weekend, a local dance teacher organized a Queer Regency Revel, a themed dance where attendees dressed like Jane Austen characters and learned Regency-era dances, lining up and swapping partners to the sound of a live instrumental band. Drag performances and a costume contest completed the evening. There’s so much creativity in Brighton’s queer community. Long may it continue!

Sadly, The Queery, the local bookshop, cafe and community space where I held a book launch and workshops, has closed down. A lot of us will miss it.

On a brighter note, Aggh! Zine, “a safe space to discuss subjects that are considered taboo or not mainstream,” has been awarded funding to offer 5 free creative workshops for LGBTQIA+ residents on low income or experiencing financial hardship or social isolation during the cost-of-living crisis. Three of the workshops are forthcoming, and you can find tickets and details here.

Queer Things I Wrote

In case you missed it, my YA novel Chasing Harmony was on CLMP’s Pride Month reading list last year! It’s a coming-of-age story about a bisexual musical prodigy, set on Prince Edward Island.

A lot of my work has queer themes, including my poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move and my short story collection Dream Signs.

I used to write a book review column called Hidden Gems of Queer Lit for Autostraddle, a sapphic-focused online magazine (which now has a print magazine too!). You can find my old columns and articles for Autostraddle here - worth a look if you’re seeking something to read!

Speaking of books, a couple years ago, I wrote a review of Alice Oseman’s YA novel Loveless for Pride Month, and shared some thoughts about the importance of asexual representation. I also did a Substack review of The Phoenix Keeper, a cozy fantasy novel with a sapphic romance, a bi lead, and a magical zoo!

And I have a short story, “Forest Creatures,” featured on Lilith’s Lair, “a private space for sapphics to explore their own desire.” It’s a lovely collection of writing, much of it spicier than my little story.

Author Events and News

I have some events coming up!

I’ll be joining a discussion on The Good Book Life about Protecting Pride - fighting the removal of LGBTQI displays in libraries.

I had a poem accepted by BFS Horizons, the British Fantasy Society’s poetry and fiction publication.

And on July 25, I’ll be taking part in a British Fantasy Society reading on Power in SFFH. More details below and here. I can’t wait!

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May is a busy month in Brighton, with both the Fringe and Art Open Houses going on. I’ve been to some comedy and theatre performances at the Fringe, and every weekend I’ve walked around and popped in to a few of the open houses.

My favourite Fringe performance had to be Comedy for the Curious, with Robyn Perkins. Robyn explored the topic of motivation—what it is, and what causes it—along with a psychologist and a comedian who played off each other in entertaining ways. How so? Well, the comedian found out he had ADHD onstage! “Fun fact,” said the psychologist, “most Fringe performers have ADHD. They’re out-of-the-box thinkers.” A quiz, and revelations, ensued.

With warm weather, and a recent heat wave, the Fringe’s outdoor spaces have been great. Two of the parks turn into performance spaces, with decorations, free outdoor performances, and family activities to enjoy, including circus toys that I saw some kids playing with. An artsy, creative, communal spirit shines. I watched free aerial arts, listened to an outdoor DJ, and heard someone perform his great-grandfather’s poetry.

As for the art open houses? Sometimes, seeing the display spaces and homes is just as exciting as seeing the art. Look at those beautiful details!

Some of the open houses include gardens, shed studio spaces, and cake and tea you can buy and eat in those gardens. Did I have some? Do you even have to ask?

I saw such a variety of work, everything from fabric crafts to pottery to photography to paintings to sound art. As a creative, it’s encouraging to see that there’s room for such a range, and to appreciate this variety. Someday, I hope to have a little home art studio and make time to play in it. My own illustrations feature in my poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move, which came out last year. It’s a start!

My favourite work was Frances Doherty’s giant floral ceramic sculptures. Recently, she’s made some “chimaeras” combining different plants together in unlikely, yet visibly intriguing combinations.

Finally, I saw the “soft machines” sculptures along the Hove Promenade before they were taken down. A public art installation designed by Ivan Morison, with collaborator Heather Peak, “it explores the bodies that make a city, and the plurality of love, intimacy and desire between them.” There’s more information about this Brighton Festival commission here. The sculptures reminded me of fluffy monsters.

Here’s to sharing art with the world!

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Nice, France

In mid-March, I headed to a warm place: Nice, France. The day I arrived, rain poured down and clouds darkened the sunset. Standing on the windy, rainy pebble beach, looking at pastel buildings along the shoreline, I wondered if I’d left Brighton at all!

The next day’s brilliant sunlight made the Mediterranean Sea glow turquoise. Ah, there was the weather people go here for. I explored the Old Town’s rainbow buildings and cobblestones, the Cour Saleya flower market where I sampled local specialties (socca, a chickpea crepe, was my favourite), and climbed Castle Hill, exploring Parc de la Colline du Château with its ruins and views.

Another wonderful thing about Nice is how easy it is to take the train (a comfortable, convenient, double-decker train) back and forth to other parts of the French Riviera. So I went to Eze, a medieval village built on a cliff. The train took me to Nietzsche’s Path, which I climbed for an hour to reach the town. (Sadly, it didn’t offer any philosophical inspiration.) I also visited the gorgeous seaside town of Villefranche-sur-Mer and took a stroll around Monaco’s casino, gardens, and yacht-filled harbour.

Dublin, Ireland

My visit to Ireland began in Dublin with a stay in Clink i Lár hostel, a former jail. I was near many of the sights, including the Ha’Penny Bridge (named for its historic toll), Trinity College Dublin, where I saw the Book of Kells (an illuminated manuscript) and library, and the Temple Bar district, where I spent a fun night bar hopping and listening to live music in each venue.

I also ventured to Kildare County. Brigid has been a big inspiration for me, both the Celtic goddess and the saint who later shared her name. I visited St. Brigid’s Well in County Clare with its statue, St. Brigid’s Cathedral (former site of St. Brigid’s mixed-gender monastery and eternal flame) and Church in Kildare Town, and the smaller St. Brigid’s holy well in Kilcullen, along with a nearby fairy trail that featured folklore plaques and fairy houses.

Back in Dublin, I toured St. Patrick’s Cathedral, visited the Guinness Storehouse, and ate potato cakes.

Lake District, England

I spent Easter in the Lake District, contemplating a move that didn’t work out. I’m glad to have spent more time in this beautiful part of the world, though. I spent time in Windermere, Bowness-on-Windermere, and nearby Lancaster.

I’ve done a lot of the tourist things on previous visits, such as taking a cruise and seeing Wordsworth’s home and the Beatrix Potter museum. This time, I was visiting late enough in the season to see Beatrix Potter’s old Hill Top farmhouse and gardens, which took a ferry ride and a long climb. The writer was a real character, studying botany, writing in a secret code she invented, and farming and preserving much of the local landscape, including the Herdwick sheep breed.

P.E.I. and New Brunswick, Canada

Going from the UK to Canada, I left spring flowers for a bit of lingering snow.

First, my brother and I stayed with my mom on Prince Edward Island, where she was house- and dog-sitting. We stayed in a beautiful farmhouse with horses in the field and fit games of fetch in between our jobs. I caught up with old friends from my P.E.I. school days, some of whom I hadn’t seen in 20 years! Then I went with my mom to her home in New Brunswick, saw another old friend, visited beaches, sold books to a local libraries, and fed chickadees on a nature trail.

So, it’s been a busy time. Despite uncomfortable plane rides and jet lag, I find travel to be one of life’s most enlivening experiences. Every trip changes my perspective in some way. Now I’m back in my flat, and I’ve planted some pots of seeds from overseas. I look forward to seeing what grows.

It’s hard to believe that this time last year, I had recently launched a book (my poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move), was going back and forth from Boston to see my dad in the hospital, and was part of a team working frantically to bring Joan: the Musical onstage in the Brighton Fringe! It all feels a million miles away. I’m grateful that this year, I’ve been able to travel by choice, not circumstance.

For now, I’ve put away my suitcase and am focusing on the Climbing High speculative fiction anthology I’m editing. The public call for submissions has closed, and commissioned contributors have been sending in wonderful stories. It’s time for me to travel through words.

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First (I finally get to announce this), I’m editing an anthology for Flame Tree’s Beyond & Within series. Those are beautiful books with shiny covers and exciting new stories. You may remember me sharing some pictures of them earlier.

The call for submissions is here, and I’m also sharing it below.

Climbing High Short Stories

Women’s ambition is not always welcomed, let alone encouraged. Speculative fiction is a context that offers other possibilities (and worlds), where writers and readers imagine what could be. Climbing High: Speculative Stories of Female Ambition will feature stories exploring contexts where female ambition is treated differently, aspiration and achievement in the face of adversity, and ambitions that extend beyond what’s possible in our contemporary world. This anthology takes an empowering stance of embracing ambition while being unafraid to explore the costs and consequences that characters may face in doing so and the impacts of ambitions pursued or fulfilled.

Stories may engage with the question of navigating disparate values and commitments (the often-asked and often-sexist question of “How do you balance x and y?”), or they may abandon all that, with characters who prioritise their desires above all else. Whether characters are reshaping the world(s), themselves, or aiming to brew the best cup of tea, their drives are the driving force of their stories. Contributors may feel free to question assumptions or norms related to women or gender while they’re at it. Authors are encouraged to explore spaces between representation and aspiration and be as bold as they like in imagining what could be.

This will be a fascinating new anthology for our Beyond & Within series. We’re looking for around four stories to join the selection curated by Melanie Bell!

Melanie Bell is a Canadian writer living in the UK. Her books include a poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move; a YA novel, Chasing Harmony; a short story collection, Dream Signs; and a nonfiction book, The Modern Enneagram, co-authored with Kacie Berghoef. Her novella The Cliffman was included in the literary horror collection Hard for Hope to Flourish, and one of her stories is featured in the Whispers in the Earth illustrated anthology of world folklore.

Melanie and Hannah Doyle co-wrote Joan: The Musical which was performed in the Brighton Fringe in May 2025. Her short plays have appeared onstage at the Tower Theatre and Barons Court Theatre in London, on Morley College Radio, and in Liverpool’s 24 Hour Play Fest. She loves art, music, wondering and wandering.

Submissions to: anthologies@flametreepublishing.com

Terms:

• Multiple submissions are fine but must be in separate emails.

• Simultaneous submissions are fine but you must have the right to license your story in an anthology.

• Stories that used AI for planning, editing, modifying or generating text will not be accepted. Please declare in your submission email if you have used AI in any way.

• For accepted stories we pay Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) rates of 8 cents/6 pence per word for original stories.

• We will aim to read each story and confirm its status within 4 months of the submission deadline.

• Payment for the chosen stories will be made within 30 days of the final advertised publication date (see our website flametreepublishing.com for details), although some may be paid earlier than that.

• Submission does not imply the right to publication. Each story will be read and assessed by the selection panel.

• Please only submit unpublished/original/new stories for consideration. Reprints will not be accepted for consideration through this submissions route.

We’re always looking for better ways of working so we’ve tweaked our submission process to allow us to read more stories, and spend more time assessing the balance of our books.

• Submissions must use the dedicated email address.

• The subject line of the email must be the story title.

• The file with the story must be attached to the email (.docx, .doc or .rtf format).

• The name of the file must match the name in the subject line.

• If submitting more than one story, please submit one story per email.

Other useful tips for a more successful submission:

• The file name of the submission must be the story name only.

• Please just use spaces between words in the title (not _ or - ).

• If the story name starts with A or The, please use it at the beginning of the file name.

• Story length is most likely to be successful at 2000–4000 words, but we will still read stories slightly outside this range.

• If submitting a story that has recently been submitted to us for consideration to another anthology, please state this in the submission email.

• Deadline for submissions is 3rd May 2026.

Literary Tea Salon With Bird & Blend Tea Co.

Here’s another collab I’m excited for! Bird & Blend Tea Co. is my favourite local tea shop. Their products are high quality and delicious. If you’re based in the UK, their shops offer free tastings and are well worth a visit, and they sell online as well.

So, while sampling some tea at the shop, I suggested a literary event, and the Bird & Blend team was interested in hosting one this spring. Here are the details for our Literary Tea Salon on May 11:

Join local author Melanie Bell and Bird & Blend Tea Co. for writing exercises, an author reading, and a book-themed tea tasting.

Monday, May 11 from 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm

Literary Tea Salon

Join us for a cosy, bookish evening blending two good things - writing and tea!

Local author Melanie Bell will lead participants in some creative exercises, read from her work, and answer questions about the writing process, while the Bird & Blend team will offer a selection of their literary-themed teas to taste.

Location

Bird & Blend Tea Co.

41 Gardner Street
Brighton and Hove BN1 1UN

Hosted in Bird & Blend’s flagship Brighton store, come along alone, with a loved one or in a group…all are welcome!

The store is fully accessible to customers in wheelchairs with NCP parking nearby. Please note there is no customer toilet on site but there is a wheelchair accessible toilet available in a nearby venue. We can tailor our experience to most disabilities - just let us know when booking.

Tickets on Eventbrite here (£15 each)

I look forward to reading your stories and meeting some of you for tea next month!

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I’ve been on a couple of longer writing retreats previously, in France and Kenya. Were they an excuse to go cool places? Maybe…

This one was over a long weekend (four days total, including coming and going) and a bit closer to home. I really enjoy the BFS’s programs and was excited to be allocated a spot at the retreat this year. The organization is professional and participants are serious about their craft, while attendees at the other retreats I went to varied more in the focus of their writing endeavors.

We stayed at the Queen at Chester Hotel. Below are some photos of the staircase and garden.

Attendees had a conference room to write in. We sat around a big table, coming and going as our energy permitted, typing intently while drinking tea and coffee from the side table. Usually, we went for dinner as a group. One evening, we shared readings from completed writing or works in progress. The quality of the work was outstanding, and everyone’s stories were a joy to listen to.

There’s nothing like the synergy of working around others who are passionate about the same thing. I focused on plotting new book concepts, and came home with two outlines and a couple of chapters done.

Having a great setting to explore didn’t hurt either. We worked independently, with time to come and go as we liked. Chester has Roman walls, a Gothic cathedral, a city center full of black-and-white timber-framed revival buildings, canals, and a well-known zoo. I’d be remiss if I didn’t share some animal pictures (below). Can you spot the baby tree kangaroo?

Thanks to Shona, David, the organizers at the BFS, and all the participants for such a positive experience. I look forward to seeing you again!

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Growing up, my mother liked to tell me how much she’d wanted a daughter. How happy she was when I was born. However, there was more to this seemingly cheery statement than I first realized: I was my parents’ second daughter. Their first one had died.

I found out about her from a photo album kept on a dusty shelf. At first I thought the little blanket-swaddled bundle was me, but the cheeks were too small. As a baby, I’d earned the nickname “Ziggy” for my balloon-like facial features. This kid had to be someone else.

My mother explained the facts of Heather’s existence. Two years before my birth, my parents had another daughter who lived for six hours. There were complications with her brain. Everyone knew what was going to happen — not that it made things easier.

In the picture of my parents holding Heather, their faces are grave. A tuft of hair much darker than mine is stuck to the first page of Heather’s photo album, beside her pressed pink baby hat. There are ink prints of two tiny feet on her birth certificate.

Most of the album is taken up by cards commemorating her death and birth at once, full of purple flowers and sympathy wishes. A family friend wrote a beautiful poem for her memorial service, calling her a “laughing clog-dancer.” No one had ever called me a laughing clog-dancer. It seemed like a pretty fabulous title.

My family moved from New England to Canada when I was one, and Heather came along with them. A box in the cupboard held ashes from her cremation. My mother planned to bury them in the yard someday and plant a tree over them, but she never got around to doing it. The ashes stayed put.

I missed the older sibling I’d never had a chance to know. In the first grade family albums we had to draw, I filled the sister page with a drawing of a tree over ashes and wrote “My sister is dead.”

Every Christmas, I’d look through the Sears Wish Book for gift inspiration. My parents no doubt hoped for a list of toys and games. Instead, I pointed at every female catalog model in my age range. “I want a sister!”

My two younger brothers were great people to grow up with. I loved bossing them around in complex fantasy games, being the queen or the teacher. But I couldn’t trade clothes with my brothers, and they didn’t share my attention span. I imagined that somehow, a sister would understand me.

When I grow up, I’m going to build a ladder to Heaven and go get Heather and bring her down,” I vowed one day. Heather’s absence made her all the more appealing. She filled the void of my sister fantasies. My life would be full of flowers and magic and crime-solving motifs from my favorite books, if only I could get her back.

I’m sure she filled a similar void for my mother. She wrote children’s stories, ostensibly to publish someday, but partially to keep me entertained. The character based on me was a kid who read all the time. The character based on Heather was an angel who made a heavenly newcomer feel at home.

My mother said again and again that she was lucky to have a daughter. What type of daughter did I have to be to live up to that statement? I was uncoordinated and tantrum-prone and kept my room messy. How could I compare to a sibling who’d never made mistakes?

Death creates an ideal that’s impossible to live up to. I saw this in high school when two students were killed in car crashes. Suddenly everyone was talking about them, and students who didn’t know them well acted like they’d been best buddies. Deeds that would have been frowned upon in life were either glossed over or discussed with rapture.

Dead children take on a mythical quality. Their short lives become larger than life, their futures outrageously promising because they never had a chance to happen.

Dead children are uniformly wonderful. This can be hard on surviving siblings, whose grief is mixed with all the other feelings of a close relationship, such as anger or envy.

With someone like Heather, dead without having had much chance to live, the myth is different. Not only did Heather get the best name in the family (Heather Meadow), but she also got immunity from the blunders of living. No matter what I achieved, there was always a photo album on the shelf dedicated to a daughter who could have been anything.

I looked for people whose lives were shaped by similar loss and found many. My best friend at school had a dead sister, and like me, dreamed of finding her again. My aunt had a stillborn daughter.

People came out of the woodwork and revealed themselves as members of this secret club. Some grieved grandparents. Adoptees missed birth parents and rumored siblings. I kept a list diligently in my head and drew dark comfort from being one of many. It wasn’t so strange, after all, to grieve a family member you’ve never met.

I wanted to show Heather respect by grieving her properly. At around age 10, I kept a diary where I wrote about her a lot, scribbling poems and pictures. I even composed a mournful lullaby (which, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have shared with my mom).

Whenever I achieved something picture-in-the-paper worthy or did something interesting, I thought of Heather. “She should have been the one doing this. She could have done it better.” At the same time, I tried my best to live up to her blank-slate perfection, to fashion myself into a good prospective dead person.

As time went on, I got caught up in other things, but thoughts about Heather asserted themselves whenever I met some sort of goal. In high school, I took up the alto saxophone and loved it. The sound was resonant. It took up space. In the shower one morning, a Heather thought interrupted me. “She never got the chance to play the saxophone.”

Some part of me wondered if she would have made it to Carnegie Hall, while another part of me felt sad that she’d missed out.

The truth is that Heather couldn’t have done many of the things I took pride in, even if she’d lived. I still have Heather thoughts sometimes, but they’re tempered by gratitude at being the living daughter, the one with the good fortune to try a wide array of experiences.

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I also had a holiday story called “Forest Creatures” published online on Christmas Day. It’s not a spicy tale per se, but it shares a venue with several and I read it previously at a Kinky Storytelling event, so take that as you will when it comes to readership. “Join us for a Christmas walk through the forest in this enchanting sapphic winter tale by Melanie Bell.” Here it is!

And here’s my New Year story for you to enjoy.

New Year, New Ewe

It was New Year’s Eve. Tim wandered around Brighton alone. Through the Laines, around back alleys, walking blindly. By the time he realized that nothing around him looked familiar, he felt it was too late to get his bearings. The shops looked interesting. Might as well poke around.

Healthy Habits, read a sign over a bright blue door. A peek through the windows revealed the usual rows of vitamins and supplements, along with an odd mishmash of fitness equipment, food, and who knows what. A stupid, hopeful voice in his head piped up: Maybe something in here will help me be less of a failure. Half listening to it, he stepped inside.

An old-fashioned bell rang at his arrival. A shiny red bicycle greeted him. Maybe he’d get into cycling in the new year. Or maybe not. He eyed the dumbbells - he already had some at home, and used them intermittently. He shook his head at the green smoothies and fruit-and-nut energy balls in the fridge. He knew from experience that they tasted like grass. Kaley had loved those sorts of things. But Kaley had left him.

“New year, new you,” he mumbled under his breath. “As if anyone gets a ‘new you’.”

“What’s that, love?” An elderly woman approached him, wearing a name badge. She moved more spryly than he’d expect of someone her age - in fact, she practically floated. Adults can’t float, Tim reminded himself. Then he realized how stupid that thought was. Children couldn’t float either, even if he’d imagined he could while playing Superman.

“Nothing.” Tim’s cheeks colored. He hadn’t expected anyone to hear him.

“You wait right here,” said the grey-haired, round-cheeked woman, departing soundlessly. How? She must be into all sorts of crazy fitness things, if she ran this shop.

As Tim browsed a shelf of vitamins, undecided on whether he needed any, the woman reappeared, holding a leash attached to a large and fluffy…

Dog? That wasn’t a dog. It was round, wooly, and white mixed with dove grey. Its tail was short, its ears pointed. “Baaa,” it said.

“You have a pet sheep?!” exclaimed Tim in delight. “Or is it a shop sheep? I like the sound of that - shop sheep!”

“You said you wanted a new ewe,” the shopkeeper grinned, “and Eunice here is looking for a home.”

Or maybe it was Ewe-nice? She didn’t spell it out.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” said Tim as a chill crept down his spine. This situation was getting surreal.

“Do you have a garden?” the woman asked.

“Well… yes…” Tim had kept the house when Kaley left. He’d bought her half, leaving him with all the space and her with all the money. Now she was able to travel, like she’d always wanted. He saw her pictures on social media, of faraway cities and beaches, while he sat in the same old city by the same old beach.

“I married you because I was supposed to,” she’d told him at last. “Not because I ever wanted…”

“You never wanted to be here,” said Tim. She didn’t disagree.

“Then it’s all sorted,” the strange shopkeeper was saying in the present, and Tim had a terrifying feeling that he’d missed some important context while lost in his memories. “Here are her winter supplements.” He heaved a burlap bag at Tim, which he lifted tentatively, surprised to find it lighter than expected. Some sort of grain? He supposed she would also eat his…grass?

“And this is for her bedding.” She heaved a second sack his way.

This was madness. He didn’t want a sheep!

“Baaa,” said Eunice, her nose moving closer to the burlap bag. He pulled it out of the way.

“How much is she?” he asked.

“Forty-nine kilograms,” said the shopkeeper. “Very healthy.”

“No, I mean, how much does she cost?” That eerie feeling strengthened again. Tim’s skin was full of goosepimples. Had there been a person in front of him? Had they disappeared?

So Tim found himself walking home with two sacks over his shoulders and a sheep on a leash. Once outside the Healthy Habits shop, he recognized a nearby street and recovered his bearings. Eunice trotted obediently along after him. He supposed he would need to build her a fence so she didn’t run off. And did she need a barn or something? Well, he had some space in the garage…

As he strolled homeward, passersby approached to comment. “Is that your sheep?” “What’s her name?” “Can I pet her?” A pair of small children reached out to touch Eunice while their father watched nervously.

“So, Eunice,” said Tim once they arrived at his place, “I guess this is your new home. Why don’t I set up a place in the garage for you while I figure out if I need to build a fence in the yard or what.”

Kaley used to keep a work bench in the spot where Tim set down straw bedding. He put some grain in a bucket and filled a salad bowl with water. As Eunice ate and drank with the garage door safely closed behind her, Tim frantically searched online for information.

He called his friend Billy, who worked as a contractor, to put together the fence and shelter the internet said a sheep needed. “A shopkeeper gave you a what?” exclaimed Billy over the phone. He drove over as fast as he could. Eunice ran over to greet Billy as soon as he got out of the car, acting as if he had treats. He did.

“Hello, cutie.” Billy scratched behind Eunice’s ears. He looked up at Tim. “Are you sure you’re up for taking care of her?”

“I… suppose,” Tim grumbled.

“Well, new year, new ewe, innit?” Billy chuckled. He got to work on the fence.

Everybody loved Eunice. Tim was almost jealous.

On New Year’s Day, he did his usual video call with his parents. He thought of it as a duty, a depressing affair since Kaley’s departure without producing grandkids and his own persistent singleness, which bothered him more in the abstract sense - the feelings of failure, the hit to his status - than it did in the concrete, day-to-day sense of not having someone around.

This time, though, he had something to talk about. He turned his phone camera on the sheep.

“Isn’t she precious?” Tim’s parents explained. They were so distracted by her “fuzzy little ears” that they neglected to ask their usual probing questions.

Still, Tim let out a sigh of relief when the call was done. He turned to Eunice and patted her nose. For the first time in two years, he wasn’t alone for the new year.

That week, he had a date lined up with someone he’d matched with on an app. “I have great expectations for this one,” he proclaimed to Eunice as he filled her water bowl. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t.”

But when Fatima the accountant asked about his hobbies as they sat and sipped their coffee, Tim finally had something to say. He showed pictures of Eunice on his phone and got Fatima laughing when he shared the story of how she’d almost knocked him down as he brought her food. She even ordered a second coffee.

We may or may not be a fit, thought Tim at the end of the date, but she seemed happy to be there, in a way Kaley never did. Did I know how to recognize unhappiness when I saw it?

And there he was, thinking about his failure again. It had stayed out of focus for the whole date, when usually, when meeting women, that was all he could think about.

He rushed back home and checked on Eunice in her enclosure. That was his routine now, apart from work. Feed the sheep, water the sheep, check on the sheep. He had nightmares sometimes where something terrible happened to Eunice and it was his fault.

But now… had it?

She lay upside down on the grass, legs in the air. Tim hurried over. Her head was stretched out to the side. Maybe she was just sleeping? Did sheep sleep like that?

His phone told him a dire story: she may have rolled over, but sheep on their backs are stuck. They can’t get up by themselves; their stomach gets bloated, and they’ll die. How long had she been like this?

Tim had never rolled over a sheep before, nor imagined he’d have to. Nervously, he opened the fence and approached her. Eunice gave a pathetic bleat. Her belly looked puffy, her legs cartoonish.

Tim set his phone in the grass and tried to follow the diagram he’d found, placing his arms around Eunice’s shoulders and heaving her up. She was bulky and heavy. Sweat rolled down his back. But Eunice gave little resistance. After some awkward pulling and lugging, hands deep in her thick grey-white wool, he got the sheep right way up.

She wobbled at first, like a drunk. Her legs bowed. Tim worried there was something wrong with her, that he’d come home too late. But after a few staggering steps, she seemed back to normal.

Tim grabbed extra feed for her. “You could have died,” he said.

She was alright now. But what about tomorrow?

He checked on Eunice first thing in the morning and was relieved to see her standing upright. She ran toward him in greeting. “Baaa!”

“Baaa to you, too,” he said, scratching her chin. And wondering. And worrying. Had Billy been right? Was he not up to taking care of a sheep?

Did he even want to take care of a sheep?

There were so many steps he had to do that he hadn’t done yet. Registration. Veterinary care. Getting more food. Learning how to care for an animal from real live people, not his phone.

Eunice was loveable, but he hadn’t chosen her. He’d taken this sheep home in a sort of fever dream - perhaps because he was too polite to refuse.

Maybe that was how Kaley had felt about him.

But where else could Eunice go?

Every spare moment of that day, he looked for answers. He found a number of sanctuaries and rescues in the region, and began making phone calls. “I was given a sheep who needs a home,” he explained, “but I don’t think my garden is the right one for her.”

One sanctuary seemed especially welcoming and thorough. So Tim and Billy loaded Eunice in Billy’s truck and took a trip out to the countryside.

A black-and-white farmhouse sat surrounded by rolling green hills and tumbling fields where animals grazed. Horses nuzzled each other, cows chewed their cud, ducks milled about a pond, and a herd of sheep in many colors faced the road as their truck approached.

“Hello,” said a man in overalls and work boots as they approached. “I’m Michael, owner of the sanctuary.”

And he and Tim were shaking hands before Tim had realized he’d moved. Had he walked up, or had he floated?

“Let’s have a look at Eunice, shall we?”

Michael and Eunice took to each other right away, and the more Tim saw of the farm, the more he liked it. He knew the sheep would be safe and happy here, among a friendly herd.

Even if part of him would miss her.

“Do you take visitors?” he asked. “Or volunteers?”

So, to Billy’s amusement, Tim began spending every other Saturday at an animal sanctuary, tending to cows, chickens, and donkeys. He may not have had his own kids, but he looked after plenty - of the goat kind. He made new friends among the volunteers. And he always gave Eunice a fond scratch.

Then he drove home and rested, content in his own company.

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My year’s end posts are often celebratory. This one is bittersweet.

I made significant professional strides in 2025, both in my writing career and in my day job. Personally, a lot of things have gone well.

I also lost my dad this year, after traveling back and forth to the U.S. a few times to see him in the hospital. And my cousin died very recently; he wasn’t much older than I am.

A New Book

My poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move came out this year with Read Furiously’s One ‘n Done series. I had a lot of fun writing and illustrating this book that tells the story of my move to the UK, travels, and moments of daily life as an immigrant.

Mikey Belcher did a lovely interview with me on his Substack that goes into detail on the book’s themes, and I gave some workshops and readings in both the UK and Canada to celebrate the book’s launch.

A Musical

This May, Joan: The Musical, which Hannah Doyle and I co-wrote, was performed in the Brighton Fringe. It told a story of an older woman, left behind by both an ex-husband and the passing of time, who travels to another world Alice in Wonderland-style and undergoes challenges to get her confidence and power back. Our first two shows had a sold-out run, so we ended up doing an encore performance.

It was amazing to see such a big production onstage. I dreamed of writing a musical and having it performed as a kid, and now I’ve done it. The show had good reviews and was an exciting, intense experience that I learned a lot from. I’m grateful to our team - director Summer and actors Geraldine, Justin, Lauren, and Dean, along with the fantastic team at The Actors - for making this show shine!

Volunteering Endeavors

I took on two big volunteer tasks this year. I was on the committee to plan Mensa’s annual European gathering in Cardiff this year, which happened in August. I helped organize activities and also gave a writing workshop.

I also acted as a juror for the British Fantasy Awards’ Best Independent Press award. I ended up reading 20 books for this, which was both exhausting and rewarding. There are so many great independent SFF presses in the UK; this work left me optimistic that the genre is in good hands.

Other Things

The Whispers in the Earth anthology came out this year, featuring my Canadian ghost ship tale along with 19 other folklore-inspired stories from around the world and beautiful linocut illustrations.

I had a short story published in the NonBinary Review’s Solarpunk issue.

I also recently got promoted to Senior Editor at Mindtools and am excited to see where that role takes me.

I have more books planned, starting with a romance novella that will be launching next year!

I’ve done my best in 2025, and I intend to do the same in 2026. I think my dad would be proud.

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I spent the last four days at the World Fantasy Convention, which took place this year (most conveniently) in my current home city of Brighton. It combined two events in one - an international fantasy convention and a British one. That means it came with two award ceremonies, including the British Fantasy Awards, where I acted as a juror for one of the categories.

Shiny Things

If you like to collect things, I’d highly recommend attending a con. I brought home so many bookmarks, book art, zines, stickers, tote bags, sweets, and more. Just a few are shown above.

And the books! I brought home 11 free books, plus the 24 ebooks/magazines offered as free downloads to participants. One author handed me an entire trilogy. I also bought… let’s just say more than a few of the attending authors’ works. One advantage of living nearby was that I could bring books home in my bag every evening rather than having to fit them all in a suitcase.

The convention featured a display of beautiful fantasy art for sale, as well as a room full of booksellers, including some intriguing independent booksellers, authors, and small presses, and one night involved a massive author signing event.

Happy People

As much as a fantasy convention is a showcase of books and the worlds within them, above all, it’s a place to meet and connect with creators. It was great to see people I knew from Worldcon last year and to meet new people, too.

Events included panels, author readings, launches, guest of honor interviews, “meet the author” events, workshops, and social events such as karaoke and a funny role playing game. I found Ana Sun’s workshop on Writing a Community, Not a Lone Hero deeply engaging, and the panel on Feminism and Feminist Themes in Genre Fiction made me think about what kinds of representation I’d like to see more of.

I enjoyed attending several of the book launches and continuing to get to know the fantasy publishing landscape I’ve been exploring as an award judge. The Solaris launch stood out, with authors playing a game of choosing which one of their books best fit some fun questions (such as “Which book would you recommend to your best friend?” and “Which main character has the best fashion sense?”). I’m told that another launch involved a sing-along.

Speaking of sing-alongs, I had a fabulous time at the “Dungeons and Disorderly” role playing game, where a group of authors played characters and a scenario created by audience prompts written on slips of paper. It was like a big improv game. Some of us in the audience were called upon to act out opponents the characters encountered, so I, in my Halloween costume (I’d dressed up as Moiraine from the Wheel of Time series, which a lot of people interpreted as a princess costume - I got a lot of compliments on my dress that day), got to play a duck that sang a Disney song to activate a weapon. I sang a bit of “Let It Go” in front of everyone. It was all great fun.

The British Fantasy Awards took place on Saturday, and I was proud to watch the announcement for the Best Independent Press. I got a picture of Nick Wells, founder of the winning press, Flame Tree Publishing, giving his acceptance speech. I was the only juror in my category who could make it to the conference, so it felt special to be there.

I’ll say again, as I did last month, that all the submissions were excellent. It was an honor to play a part in recognizing their quality work, and I was very pleased to see some of the other presses and authors recognized elsewhere, including at the World Fantasy Awards the next day. A single panel of judges adjudicated that whole slate of awards, a task which took up much of the year. They gave an interesting talk on trends they noticed and the process they used. I appreciate the BFA approach of using different panels to judge each award, allowing for shared work and opportunities.

You can find the winners of the British Fantasy Awards here and the winners of the World Fantasy Awards here. Congratulations to all!

One of my own SFF stories - some hopeful science fiction involving climate change and a work exchange between planets - was recently published in the NonBinary Review’s Solarpunk issue. I also have a story forthcoming in Mythaxis Magazine.

And if you’ve read this far, here’s some flash fiction to thank you for your attention!

Pick a Door

Once you’re twelve you get to choose your door.

If it had been up to me, Liam and I would’ve gone through the same one, but there are rules, you know. One child per door. Keep the populations stable. If some doors get too crowded, the council swap them out for different ones.

So I put on my nice blue suit with a marigold in the buttonhole and Dad led me to the entrance, stooped but proud.

Liam ran up and hugged me quick. “Bye, Amir. I’m going to pick the blue one.”

“Bye.” Be a man. Don’t cry.

I spun in a circle. A hundred doors, hanging down from the sky. Some hinted at warm or woodsy origins. I recognized the door through which Mom had entered our world, old and chipped. She’d liked it well enough here before she left.

Maybe I’d like it there, too.

As I stepped forward, heard it creak open and its Mac truck rush of energy pulled me through, I hoped she’d gone back in there instead of running through another one.

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Binding the Cuckoo Review

Binding the Cuckoo is the first foray into independent publishing from Gabriela Houston, author of The Bone Roots and several other novels rooted in Slavic mythology. Well, perhaps it counts as the second, since I got to know Gabriela as the editor for the Kickstarter-backed, beautifully illustrated anthology Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined, to which I contributed a Canadian ghost ship story.

Gabriela kindly sent me a review copy of Binding the Cuckoo. As a fan of her previous work, I was excited to see what her historical fantasy romance had in store.

Here’s the blurb:

1899: A fay grifter seeks fortune and security.

Love was never the plan.

In the late Victorian era, a technological marvel allows scientists to open rifts into the realms of legend. Powerful creatures, weakened and stripped of their memories, are brought to serve the whims of the wealthy elite...

Hare, a young woman with a mythical secret finds herself trapped, facing an unenviable future.

When an equally desperate schoolmistress, Miss Anne Bonningham offers her a chance at freedom, they embark on a daring plan. Disguised as “Miss Edwina Walker,” Hare navigates the treacherous waters of London high society, solely focused on securing a marriage and escaping her past.

However, amidst the glittering balls and intricate social games, as hidden agendas surface and a vengeful figure from her past threatens to expose her true identity, Hare must make a choice: embrace a life of comfort and security or choose freedom and a love that could shatter the very foundation of her world.

If you like your fantasy light, but heavy on the sexual tension, this one’s for you. Hare is an outsider protagonist with few options, and I sympathized with her right away.

In the alternate history, “mythics” are otherworldly beings (mostly fairies) brought into our world, where their magic weakens and memories fade, to serve humans. Hare was betrayed by someone she trusted, and has little idea of who she was before. When offered freedom through an alliance with a somewhat unsavory character, there’s little else she can do.

So, we’re off to London, where Hare poses as Miss Anne Bonningham’s American relative seeking a match. If she can secure a good marriage, both she and her “matchmaker” will have their currently dire futures secured.

Cue the high-society socializing, the kind (if a bit silly and arrogant) duke who takes a shine to Hare, and his lawyer friend who clashes with her again and again, with sparks flying. You could call it a love triangle, but where one option represents security and the other a deeper connection, it’s pretty clear how things are going to turn out. The fun is in getting there.

Along the way, we encounter a variety of mythics who can’t pass as human like Hare can, and struggle to get work. Their interactions are nuanced, as they can magically recognize each other but humans can’t recognize them in the same way. I’d love to know more about them and their world, which is only lightly sketched out. Maybe in a future book?

Binding the Cuckoo is an easy, elegant read. It comes out on October 15, and you can pre-order it now.

Literary Judging: What’s It Really Like?

Any writer reading this is probably intimately familiar with the process of being judged. You sent a piece or pitch to a publication, or a manuscript to an editor or publisher, you wait, and most of the time, you get another rejection letter to add to your growing collection.

I’ve been on both sides of the desk. Along with writing, I used to edit and read submissions for literary magazines. Several years ago, I sat on a panel judging a magazine grant for a Canadian province I’ve never lived in. And this year, I was one of five judges for the British Fantasy Award for Best Independent Press.

The winners of this year’s British Fantasy Awards will be announced at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, which takes place from October 30-November 2. So I won’t be sharing any spoilers here, but I have some insights into the process of judging a literary award.

How do you judge something as subjective as the quality of written work? You start by assembling a panel of judges, who all bring different experiences and opinions. Our group had some degree of consensus around quality, strengths, and weaknesses after reading the material - and it was a lot of material. I read a sample of books from each press, for a total of (I think) 20, and there are more in a box if I want to dive into them later.

Some judging panels agree on criteria and give scores to the material. With others, it’s a more fluid discussion - more of an art than a science.

Both panels I’ve been on have been very respectful groups. I imagine the rest of the British Fantasy Awards were similar, with thoughtful, generous debates and discussions of each work’s respective merits. There were differences of opinion, but everyone had fair input. It came down to a nail-biter, and I got to be the deciding vote.

What I witnessed from award judging was just how many good books, publishers, and works might not win awards, but offer high quality, unique perspectives, and valuable contributions to their genres. That’s something I found when reading submissions for magazines, as well. There’s so much good stuff out there! There aren’t spaces or awards for all of it, and not being “chosen” doesn’t make a work any less worthy.

Someone else winning an award, or a rejection of your story, is not a rejection of you.

Some people like to imagine rivalries in the writing world. Maybe they exist, but that hasn’t been my experience. With speculative fiction especially, I see a bunch of geeks getting excited over each other’s books. With publishing more broadly, when one book does well, that can create space for others, and excited readers are more likely to read something else.

There are unkind people and poor behavior in every industry. But my experience judging an award was one of respect and collegiality. From what I’ve seen, the future of independent publishing in British SFF looks hopeful.

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Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of books in order to judge the Best Independent Press award for the British Fantasy Awards. There are a few of us judging each award, and next month, I’ll tell you more about what the experience of judging a literary award is like.

Once I finished that stack of books, I looked at my TBR and there it was, waiting for me - Better Living Through Alchemy, which Evan (who I met through a Clarion West writing group) had kindly given me a review copy for.

At 166 pages, this is a slim but satisfying read, a fast-paced page turner. It’s also not your typical detective novel.

Private investigator Kelly Munn uses her magical and psychic abilities to investigate cases in Seattle along with her cousin and assistant, Critter. One day a client comes in with an equally strange mystery for her to look into. A drug called bardo has appeared on the streets. It’s killing people and leaving their bodies mutated in bizarre ways. It’s a compelling case - and paycheck - that Kelly and Critter can’t refuse.

The characters are charming, with the banter between detectives and clients reading as entertaining and the caring bickering between the two cousins as believable. I enjoyed how the story low-key has a mostly queer cast. Kelly is bi or pan, and Critter is trans and some variety of queer as well.

While Critter and some of the other characters use magical techniques like tarot and dowsing to investigate the mystery, Kelly’s abilities are the most interesting aspect of the heroes’ magic. She has clairolfaction - she can smell feelings and images, which help her intuit leads for the cases she investigates. (Her ability doesn’t seem too far off from synesthesia, just a bit more magical.) Her third-person point of view is peppered with experiences like smelling lies, “green words,” and a mixture of “rightness and wrongness” that smells like “wood smoke and rain mingled.”

Like her colleagues, she supplements her natural abilities with an interesting sort of magical technology. She free-associates words to come up with insights and, at one point, uses something called a “Dreamachine” that once belonged to William Burroughs. I think I want one.

The plot drives the storytelling forward, with one thing leading to another. Resurrection! Demons! Tree-people! Lost gods! The appearance of the drug itself! The tension ramps up, backstories are revealed, twists and turns appear, and everything feels engrossing. By the end of the story, things are… mostly explained, and maybe some of them don’t need to be.

All I can say is, it took me too long to read this book. Don’t be like me - read it now.

Author Interview and UK “Speed Walk”

My friend Mikey Belcher is a fellow American-Canadian transplant to the UK. We went to grad school together, and now he has a fantastic Substack newsletter where he writes about art, architecture, and more. I was delighted to do an author interview with him recently.

He asked me thoughtful questions about my new poetry book, The Heart Decided to Move, we share our experiences of moving to the UK on ancestry visas, and the interview ends with a “speed walk” around some of my favorite places in the UK.

It was fun to be asked what building I’d most like to build out of Lego! Portmeirion, in Wales, of course (see below). Read the full interview here.

More Synesthesia Shenanigans

I’m taking part in a research study at the University of Sussex on synesthesia in families. My mom’s participating too. It’s looking at both synesthetes and their non-synesthetic first-degree relatives. They’re still looking for direct relatives of synesthetes to participate, so if this applies to you or someone you know, you can learn more below or click here to sign up. It’s a paid study that involves color matching and memory tests.

Now I have consistency tests confirming my synesthesia. It felt exciting to have evidence that this was real, that I wasn’t making it all up.

I’ve also signed up for a workshop with the documentary In My Mind’s Eye - Unlocking Synaesthesia. The co-hosts, who run the Let’s Talk Synaesthesia podcast, will be leading sessions on neurodivergent wellbeing, music, and art-making. It’s taking place on October 18 in London, and interested synesthetes can sign up on Eventbrite (space is limited).

This past weekend, I went to an art installation at the Barbican called Feel the Sound. I thought the “multi-sensory installations” sounded both interesting and synesthetic. The exhibit had a lot of cool concepts, such as instruments that use light or sense indirect touch, and AI-generated, light-up melodies that match participants’ descriptions of their experiences with music. There was a lot of AI use in this contemporary exhibit, and I’m not sure how I feel about the infusion of that bland AI-generated writing style in the art world.

As I expected, a lot of the exhibit mixed senses in interesting ways, and that stirred up my mixed senses. I suppose I should have expected that something called “Feel the Sound” would have a lot of what, to me, felt like “weird noises.” Some of them were red or green or shaped like triangles. It felt a bit chaotic in some of the rooms, and calmer in others where the sonic atmosphere was more closely controlled. The choir of trans voices in a room where listeners could rest on body pillows was a highlight, along with screens of visuals synced to music and platforms that vibrate along with sounds. Overall, the experience was a blend of hit and miss for me.

That’s how I’d probably describe my engagement with contemporary art in general, as well as my experiences with synesthesia. I recently tried closing my eyes by a busy highway and watching the colors and shapes that the car noises made in my mind’s eye. It was cool that I could do that… but I quickly lost interest in that little game. I’m the kind of curious person who smells all the roses in the rose garden. But some experiences, it turns out, can be both synesthetic and boring.

Onward, September!

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And I’m grappling with difficult feelings. It’s hard to lose a parent. And while I was traveling back and forth across continents to visit my father in the hospital, I didn’t have the bandwidth to process other emotions which I’m feeling now.

A lot of people have found themselves on neurodivergent journeys recently. Mine looks a little different from what you see on TikTok videos. I’ve shared a little about it elsewhere, and now I’ll share more about it here.

I used to be in a neurodiverse relationship. That’s how I got involved with a local autism support group, a decade or so before the neurodiversity-affirming movement really took off.

I’m not autistic. I also don’t have ADHD, the other type of neurodivergence that’s gained visibility recently. But years ago, I read about dyspraxia (sometimes called Developmental Coordination Disorder) and thought, “Oh.”

My skill set has always been wildly asymmetrical. I was that kid who couldn’t catch a ball but was reading (and understanding) my mom’s psychology books at age 9. My brain can struggle to process motion. Sense of direction? I’ve barely got one. Dyspraxia made sense - until I attended a dyspraxia conference, and realized I didn’t experience 70% of the challenges the speakers were talking about.

A few years ago, I contacted an expert and we looked at various forms of neurodivergence. I’d thought I had a disability - but I don’t, and my attempts to find accommodations for my challenges had only made me feel worse. I found out instead that I’d been struggling with anxiety symptoms, and had “some sensory things” (not a diagnosis) and a high IQ. I learned some anxiety management techniques, joined Mensa, and got on with things.

There was still a piece missing. And this year, I found it.

Synesthesia, aka the “Sensory Things”

It turns out my brain has another weird thing going on - synesthesia. This is when input to one sense results in an additional sensory experience. Think colors for letters, tastes for sounds, feeling touch when someone else is touched, visualizing sequences in space, etc. It’s a diverse spectrum of traits, and multiple forms often coexist in the same person.

I read about synesthesia as a teenager and found it relatable. It struck a chord, given my colored weekdays (the most common form of synesthesia found in a population study) and the poem I wrote as a child about the colors and personalities of certain numbers. But surely I didn’t really have synesthesia, since I wasn’t actually “seeing” anything.

There’s more information and research on it now. As it happens, most synesthetes are like me, with the extra sensory input experienced in the mind’s eye (associative synesthesia) rather than in the external world (projective synesthesia).

My main forms of synesthesia have to do with color related to physical sensations and music. I experience other forms, too, including some that happen occasionally. I’m still figuring out what things are “normal” for me that aren’t experienced by everyone. Yep, I was 37 years old when I learned that most people don’t ever visualize moving, colored shapes in their minds when music plays.

It’s common for synesthetes to have some of the challenges I do, such as a poor sense of direction, some challenges processing movement, and left-right confusion (which I used to have, but it went away after going on a bunch of hikes). My strengths in memory and creativity are also common with the profile.

Synesthesia has an interesting place in the neurodiversity conversation. It’s one of few “neurodivergent conditions” that’s not typically disabling. There’s less stigma around it at this time, though if you try to articulate your experiences, they sure can sound weird! Some people experience debilitating or distracting versions of synesthesia. Others embrace the “superpower” narrative, with versions of synesthesia that help with remembering information, spotting patterns, or creating spellbinding art of things they see that no one else can.

I’ve had frightening synesthetic moments and stunningly beautiful ones. On the whole, though, my synesthesia is like background noise that I’ve spent most of my life tuning out. I gave it other names - “my wild imagination,” “weird or spiritual experiences,” and “did this really happen or did I make it up?” No wonder I gravitate toward fantasy fiction, where some characters see things that most people can’t. I realize now there’s a synesthetic character in one of my short stories in Dream Signs, and while there’s no “seeing music” in my music-focused novel Chasing Harmony, it has some synesthetic moments too.

I don’t have to “do anything” about my synesthesia, really. But I’m curiously exploring how it works, and trying to figure out how I feel about it. I think this will take a while.

Magnetospheres and Demon Hunters

A movie just came out that struck a deep chord with me. Magnetosphere, directed by Nicola Rose, is a coming-of-age story about a girl with synesthesia set in Ontario during my own childhood. For me, it couldn’t have been released at a better time.

It was a delight to hear the Canadian accents and to be reminded of watching Comet Hale-Bopp and the girl power era. While my experiences aren't the same as the protagonist's, I do see sounds, hear colors, and see feelings on occasion, and like Maggie, I was and am creative and emotional. There were so many things I related to that I cried a few times during the movie, especially when Maggie was singing about being confused by her synesthetic experiences. I also loved her argument with her friend over the colour of Tuesday - some subtle synesthesia in someone else that wasn't singled out. That’s not to mention the queer subplot, and the comical one where Maggie’s dad is directing a theatrical production where everything goes wrong. Memories from Joan: The Musical were triggered!

I recommend Magnetosphere without reservation, especially if you’re curious to get a sense of what (some types of) synesthesia can be like. The Pharell Williams Lego movie, Piece by Piece, is another great watch for visualizing music-to-color synesthesia. And, like many people right now, I’ve gotten into Netflix’s animated musical KPop Demon Hunters. I’ve been binge listening to the songs. If you’ve seen it, you’ll know that demonic patterns figure heavily in the plot, so it’s interesting that the riff at the beginning and end of “Golden” evokes a compelling visual pattern for me.

I relate to the main character Rumi’s secrecy and shame. The movie struck a chord because I’ve drafted a novel with overlapping themes - music magic, demons, and secrets brought into the open. Oh, and a version of synesthesia, before I realized that’s what I was experiencing. Once I revise my current WIP, I’m going to get back to work on that one.

To quote the movie’s final song:

Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?
I should’ve let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what’s underneath
I’ll find your harmony
The song we couldn’t write
This is what it sounds like

Writing News

Next week, I’ll be in Cardiff for EMAG, Mensa’s European annual gathering. I’m on the organizing committee and will be leading a workshop on Creative Writing as part of the program.

Creative Writing

Saturday, 9 August, 9-10 am

Looking for a fun new way to express your thoughts, feelings, and ideas? Have you always wanted to write but not been sure how to get started? In this workshop, you'll explore a variety of facilitated creative writing exercises, with opportunities to share with the group and get feedback if you wish. Let's bring our imagination to the page!

—

I have two story publications forthcoming this year, and a future poetry event in the works with Custom House Bookshop in London.

I did an author interview recently with fellow writer Christina Consolino, who asked lovely, thoughtful questions.

I’m having fun contributing to the British Fantasy Society’s monthly blogs and judging for the British Fantasy Awards (Best Independent Press means reading a lot of books).

And my publisher Read Furiously’s summer book sale is ongoing, including my The Heart Decided to Move. and the rest of their One ‘n Done series.

Onward and upward! Embrace your colors!

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My father, Doug Bell, died on June 24. He had been in the hospital in Boston for quite some time (over 100 days in intensive care), and my brothers and I flew back and forth to visit him. We had the chance to share memories and love.

Here are some memories of him that I read at his Celebration of Life last week and would like to share with the world.

For Dad

You led the way for us in moving to Prince Edward Island. You wanted a place of your own to grow and sell plants, so we grew up there. Every March break, with our fingers in the soil, transplanting plugs from one pot to another. Oh, how we groaned, and oh, how we loved it.

You took us to water and taught us to fish, fried up our catches, and made our clams into chowder. You showed us the creatures that lived all around us. You helped us grow our own gardens. We tried to remember the names of those plants!

You were proud of your acres and always sought knowledge, turning the TV to the Discovery Channel – when it wasn’t on Star Trek. You loved the distant stars and the land beneath your feet. I’ll never forget the night you showed me the Northern Lights.

I had my first business at the greenhouses, “down below,” selling second-hand toys. You did all the work. I had one of my first jobs at the greenhouses, caring for plants, helping with the landscapes that made our community sparkle, and talking to customers, where I saw their appreciation for what you did.

You had a witty, punny sense of humor, and there were times I appreciated it less than others. Like when you made up a song about my goldfish: “I love Louise, she tastes real good with cheese, the best thing about having a fish is that they don’t get fleas!”

After separating from my mom, you travelled alone for a while, catching fish, rowing boats, enjoying the outdoors, using the practical skills that you knew. I’m glad you got to see new places and old ones you loved. Florida’s a lot warmer than PEI, not to mention it has key lime pie!

We were lucky to have time with you in the hospital this year, to say the things we wanted to say to each other. You said “I love you” almost as much as you asked for ice chips. We were lucky to have the life we did, and lucky to have you in it. You remembered everything. Now we’ll remember you.

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I’m honored to have my novel Chasing Harmony included on CLMP’s reading list for Pride Month 2025! It’s one of their more competitive reading lists, and fellow Read Furiously author Samantha Mann’s book Dyke Delusions is on the list as well.

I had a great time reading and signing books at The Flying Canoe bookstore in Campbellton, New Brunswick, Canada on June 6. Co-owner Nancy Power was a university classmate of mine, so it was great to catch up with her and to meet community members. She gifted me with a locally made birch bookmark and a copy of Emma Metallic’s book Nipugtug, written both in Mi’gmaw and English.

One ‘n Done Book Sale

My publisher Read Furiously is having a summer book sale to celebrate the One ‘n Done series, including my new poetry book The Heart Decided to Move!

• Get 17% off the retail price when you purchase any 5 books from our bestselling series. Save even more with each book you add, up to 30% when you purchase 12 or more books.

• A minimum purchase of 5 books is required. Free domestic (US) shipping is included with the purchase of every bundle. Please allow 2-3 days to process your order. Shipping is subjected to title availability; the bundles will ship out when all of the books are available. All orders will be shipped using USPS.

• For international orders, shipping costs will be calculated at checkout. Additional VAT or import fees may be applied to your order once in transit.

• Sale runs all summer.

Pick up your book bundle here, exclusively on Read Furiously’s website!

Upcoming Events

I’m excited to read at two queer events closer to home soon. Both of them are taking place at The Actors, home of Joan: The Musical.

Kinky Storytelling: Joy (Trans Pride fundraiser)

The Actors, 4 Prince’s St, Brighton
June 26, 7:30-11:30 pm
Join us for a unique experience of queer joy, artistic expression, and kink-positive storytelling. There will be a photo booth, zines, and icebreakers along with featured performances and an open mic.
Get your ticket here. All proceeds to go Trans Pride Brighton!

Queer Diary

The Actors, 4 Prince’s St, Brighton
July 11, 7:30-9:30 pm (doors open at 7)
Would you read your teenage diary aloud to a room full of people? A brave group of LGBTQIA+ folks are doing just that at Queer Diary! The night where queers share our teen angst (and joy, dreams, follies, and fabulousness).
I’ll be reading from the poetry books I self-published as a teenager. I read some very old poems at June’s Queer Diary event and can’t wait to share more!
Get your ticket here (pay what you can).

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It’s an exhilarating feeling, watching in the audience as actors embody characters you created, speak words you imagined, and belt out music you created.

But my co-writer Hannah Doyle and I weren’t the only ones getting chills during the opening weekend (May 3-4) of Joan: The Musical in the Brighton Fringe. Some of the audience members shared that it made them cry. Others left quoting the lines and humming the tunes.

I couldn’t have imagined a better weekend for Joan, where BOTH DAYS SOLD OUT!

Except for this - we were offered an opportunity to do a THIRD performance! It’s now happening on Monday, May 26, at 6 pm, once again at The Actors in Brighton.

Grab your ticket now for the May 26 performance of JOAN: https://www.brightonfringe.org/events/joan-the-musical/

Joan had some wonderful reviews.

From Brighton on the Inside:

It’s truly magical when the stars align and you end up seeing something that takes your breath away. Joan The Musical by Melanie Bell and Hannah Doyle is a triumphant tale about a woman’s dwindling confidence and her journey of self-discovery. A tale of despair and sadness, followed by joy and karma. With sequins, hot pink leggings, squats and box breathing. All set to an amazing original musical score.

From View from the Gods:

This is a sweet-toned musical about self-affirmation, new discovery and magical singing that works. Lyrics and songs are the kind you’d hear in a Southwark Playhouse musical: easy melodies, wittily syncopated around witty lyrics… They’ve clearly proved themselves as a writing team, and it’ll be fascinating to see where they go next.

Co-writer/producer Hannah Doyle and lead actress Geraldine Afifi spoke about the show on an episode The Brighton Babbler podcast, which also includes one of the songs! You can listen to it here.

We’re now looking for opportunities to develop the show beyond the Brighton Fringe. Feel free to be in touch if you know of any possible connections!

Book Events and News

The book launch for my new poetry collection The Heart Decided to Move went well, and I’m in the process of setting up more readings and events. For my next one, I’m coming to CANADA!

Poetry Reading at The Flying Canoe Bookstore

1-110 Roseberry Street, Campbellton, New Brunswick, Canada
June 6, 2-4 pm
Join me for a poetry reading, book signing, and snacks at a gem of a bookstore that offers “a space where anyone can feel safe and free to let their geek flag fly”!

My copies of the Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined anthology arrived and they’re so beautiful! The book features 20 folklore-inspired stories, including one of mine, and hand-printed linocut illustrations. There may still be a few copies available on The Broken Binding’s website, so check here if you’re interested in ordering a paperback or a hardback with sprayed edges!

My poem “In Which Much Has Changed” has been (re-)published in issue 49 of QWERTY magazine, the “No” issue, along with other innovative poems and stories. You can order one here if you like.

And in final book news, a recommendation! I had the honor of giving some preliminary input on the English edition of Monika Orski’s book about leading highly intelligent people - which can be trickier than it looks! And the book is out now.

The Art of Herding Cats

Part 1: Learning by Doing Leadership
By Monika Orski

Leading highly intelligent individuals can be both an immensely rewarding and challenging experience. When those individuals are also volunteers, the complexity of leadership increases even more.

In this thought-provoking book, a former national chair of Mensa Sweden shares valuable insights and practical lessons drawn from years of experience leading within one of the world's most intellectually gifted communities. With Mensa being a largely volunteer-driven organization, it offers a rare environment to explore leadership in its most nuanced and challenging form, also know as herding cats.

You will learn about leadership by sugar, explanations adapted for the fast thinkers, and how a character from a children's book can help. Plus some other things you might not yet know that you want to know. There are even some attempts at humour.

Ideal for leaders, managers, and anyone working with high-performing or highly autonomous teams of professionals or volunteers, The Art of Herding Cats guides you through doing the mostly impossible and how to enjoy it.

You can purchase a copy here.

Whew, that was a lot! I’ll catch you next time, when I’ve hopefully had time to catch my breath!

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“A poignant exploration of self-discovery, The Heart Decided to Move captures the author’s transformative journey as she takes the life-changing step of relocating to a new country. Through letters, poetry, and reflective prose, the work weaves together a tapestry of language, emotion, and identity. Each piece invites readers to explore the complexity of what it means to leave behind one’s homeland in search of a true sense of belonging. Follow Melanie Bell as she experiences moments of culture shock, surviving a pandemic in her new home, and joyful moments of worldly travel, all told in snapshots filled with humor and heart.”

You can order your copy here or wherever books are sold!

Or, if you’re in Brighton, come along to the book launch on April 19!

Poetry Book Launch: The Heart Decided to Move

April 19, 6-8 pm, The Queery

In 2017, Canadian author Melanie Bell moved to the UK on an ancestry visa. Her new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move, shares the story of that journey, from moments of culture shock and cross-cultural delight to surviving a pandemic in an unfamiliar place. The book incorporates illustrations, prose, and travel poems from far and wide.

Join us to celebrate the launch of this collection and pick up a signed copy!

Tickets here

In further news, the Whispers in the Earth: World Folklore Reimagined anthology is out, featuring my Prince Edward Island ghost ship story, among a collection of 20 tales inspired by myths and legends from around the world, and illustrated with beautiful linocut prints!

The editor, Gabriela Houston, is also a prolific fantasy author. Her latest novel, The Bone Roots, is a haunting, beautiful read featuring Slavic folklore, motherhood, fox thieves, and gods. I read an ARC and thought, “I wish I could have written that!” So, if you’re looking for something new to read, check it out!

Rehearsals for Joan: The Musical continue in preparation for performance in the Brighton Fringe on 3 and 4 May. My co-writer Hannah Doyle and lead actress Geraldine Afifi just did an interview about the show on The Brighton Babbler podcast which also includes a song from the show, “Little Bird.” You can listen to it here!

If you’re local, come join us and see it live next month!

72-year-old Joan has it all. A glittering past as a West End dancer, a chocolate-box maisonette in Seven Dials, and fantastic hair. There's one thing she doesn't have, though: the power of self-belief.

Bruised and scorned by her ex-husband's wayward ways, Joan tumbles down a rabbit hole that brings her face to face with her tattered confidence. Can Joan find her way back to the surface? Or is she destined to languish in the depths of self-care hell?

Joan: The Musical will take the stage at The Actors in Brighton on 3 and 4 May, at 1.30pm. You can get your tickets here!

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Coming April 8: my new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move!

And you can preorder it now! More information from my publisher below:

PREORDER - The Heart Decided to Move - One 'n Done 12 is currently available for preorder. Orders will ship 2025-04-08

A powerful portrait of self-discovery told in snapshots as the author makes the challenging decision to relocate. Letters, poetry, and language come together to create a journey of what it means to find your heart's true home.

Melanie Bell, author of Chasing Harmony, dazzles readers again with her follow-up project that once again asks us to find our authenticity through the choices we make.

Preorder your copy here!

I’m excited about this book. As the title suggests, a lot of heart went into it. I wrote the poetry over several years and, while it focuses on my experiences moving to the UK, I wrote across several places. The collection also incorporates some of my essays and illustrations.

I’m having a book launch in Brighton - details below, and more events to follow!

Poetry Book Launch: The Heart Decided to Move

April 19, 6-8 pm, The Queery

In 2017, Canadian author Melanie Bell moved to the UK on an ancestry visa. Her new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move, shares the story of that journey, from moments of culture shock and cross-cultural delight to surviving a pandemic in an unfamiliar place. The book incorporates illustrations, prose, and travel poems from far and wide.

Join us to celebrate the launch of this collection and pick up a signed copy!

Tickets here

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Upcoming Events

Writing Exercises

Come join me for Writing Exercises on Saturday, March 15, 6-8pm at The Queery (46 George St, Brighton)!

Join local author Melanie Bell for a series of writing exercises to get your creative juices flowing!

Following her last creative writing workshop and interest in more exercise-based work, Melanie will bring a range of writing prompts and activities for attendees to work with. Whether you're a curious beginner or an experienced wordsmith, come join us and get ready to explore!

Tickets here

The Queery is also hosting the launch of my poetry book in April!

Poetry Book Launch: The Heart Decided to Move

April 19, 6-8 pm, The Queery

In 2017, Canadian author Melanie Bell moved to the UK on an ancestry visa. Her new poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move, shares the story of that journey, from moments of culture shock and cross-cultural delight to surviving a pandemic in an unfamiliar place. The book incorporates illustrations, prose, and travel poems from far and wide.

Join us to celebrate the launch of this collection and pick up a signed copy!

Tickets here

Joan: The Musical Rehearsals

Joan: The Musical has a full cast and director, and yesterday, we all met for our first rehearsal! We’ll be working together intensely for the next couple months in preparation for our May 3-4 performances in the Brighton Fringe.

Everyone got along well, and it was great to see their talent and enthusiasm coming together!

Here are some of the action shots:

Joan: The Musical will take the stage at The Actors in Brighton on 3 and 4 May, at 1.30pm. You can get your tickets here!

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Announcing Joan: The Musical!

72-year-old Joan has it all. A glittering past as a West End dancer, a chocolate-box maisonette in Seven Dials, and fantastic hair. There's one thing she doesn't have, though: the power of self-belief.

Bruised and scorned by her ex-husband's wayward ways, Joan tumbles down a rabbit hole that brings her face to face with her tattered confidence. Can Joan find her way back to the surface? Or is she destined to languish in the depths of self-care hell?

Joan: The Musical will take the stage at The Actors in Brighton on 3 and 4 May, at 1.30pm. You can get your tickets here!

See you at the Fringe!

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