Hi y’all,

Do you ever say something or make something and then just sort of pause in horror as you wonder what it says about you? 

No, no, me either.

But if that ever did happen to me, it probably would have happened after I wrote “The Voice and Her Knife,” which is out now in Beneath Ceaseless Skies (including in podcast form).  I hope you will read it, and I hope that after you do so you will let me know what you think.

I really wasn’t sure what I was going to say about “The Voice and Her Knife” until I started the first draft of this newsletter.  I often write stories to examine personal problems or preoccupations from a safe distance; I mostly write sci-fi and fantasy because I like to add layers of abstraction between whatever the personal heart of the story is and the thing that I present to the world.  I know this about myself, about my process.  But that framework seems to break down with this story.

First things first: this is a story about war criminals.  It is a violent story.  It is a story in which the bad guys prevail and are kind of kinky about it.  It is a story my mother can never, EVER read.

So… what the hell was I processing, here?  What’s the gooey core of this story?  How did it come about?

Let’s compare it to our other May stories.  For me, “The Glass City” carries a straightforward history: intense feeling led to stark concept led to agonizing years of revision to make it work as a story.  So, too, “Stitching Time”: fun call for submissions plus stressful real life equals escapist romp with a bit more plot and less character than I’m used to.

I remember revising “The Voice and Her Knife.”  In fact, because this is a Beneath Ceaseless Skies story and Scott Andrews is the most ruthless and detailed editor I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with (genuinely—it’s an honor and a joy!), I revised it a lot.  But I don’t remember how it began. 

I wrote the first draft in my master’s program around 2024, which leads me to what I think is my answer: I was thinking about war crimes a lot.  War crimes, and war criminals.  What they say and how they might think about themselves.  The fact that they are also human beings, which I say not as an entreaty to understand their point of view but as a reminder that we cannot separate ourselves from them completely.

In “The Voice and Her Knife,” there is a character who makes speeches full of sentiments she does not hold.  She values power, mostly her own, and beauty, of a certain kind.  There were times she felt weak in the past; she believes she is past them now.  She has done terrible things and she’ll do more terrible things if you give her the chance.

I do not understand her.  I don’t know how I dreamed her up. 

She does compel me, though.  Thank god she’s confined to the page.

Short Story Log

Since A Breath of Time coming out this month, a lot of the stories I’ve read recently

have been from the anthology.  I wanted to emphasize two that I really liked.

“A Ballad for a Lady Love” by C.J. Larsen has both a beautiful love story at its core and a fun little twist at the end.  I really loved it.

I also really enjoyed “Paths, Littlings and Holy Things” by Somto Ihezue.  There’s desperation in it that really gripped me, and I liked the relationship at the center of it.

As always, thanks for reading!

Love,

AnaMaria