The Realm of Katherine Vick

In honour of the approaching Christmas season, I thought I'd break out a poem I wrote for a Christmas writing challenge a number of years ago. It was for the prompt "a walk through a house from the perspective of a child" because I wanted to write something with some rhythmic hurly burly to it as that’s the kind of poem I like best – something with a bit of gallop and a cadence – and that seemed to fit the bill, given that in my experience, small children do not so much walk through a house as push it out of their way as they pass. ;p.   A Christmas Tale    The day was barely dawning when I woke on Christmas morning, As excitement filled me up right to my core, I flung aside the blanket as I leapt from bed all frantic, Skipping, tripping, skidding, slipping to the door!   Christmas day was here now! The best day of the year! Wow! What glories waited down beneath that tree? Had Father Christmas called by, left the presents piled up knee-high, In all

 The below was written for a long ago writing challenge somewhere across the internet but in honour of yesterday being Halloween, it seemed appropriate to post today. ;) Toil and Trouble “What do you mean, you forgot the eye of newt?” “I mean it just slipped my mind! It was so busy at the Wicca market, there were so many stalls and the slug juggler was flirting with me…” “Well, you got to admit, dearie, he is a fine figure of a man….” “Shut up Ursula! Just keep stirring that cauldron!” “Fine by me, dearie, fine by me…” “I’m sorry, Medea. Do you want me to go back?” “Well, there isn’t time now, is there? We’ll have to make do. Did you get the fillet of fenny snake?” “Umm… they were out…” “Of for the love of Hecate… All right, the toe of frog?” “They were out of that too. There’s this recipe for wart growth in Circe’s latest compendium that’s proving very popular, you see…” “I don’t care what’s popular! We need those ingredients! Please tell me you at least got the wool

  World Building – The Perils of Exposition I think anyone who has tried to write a fantasy or science fiction story set in its own unique universe will understand me when I say – setting up a world is hard. Creating it isn’t, at least not for me. I love creating new worlds – drawing maps, thinking of cultures and rules and how things work – that’s as much fun as writing itself as far as I am concerned. In fact, in many ways, it’s more fun – it’s use of the imagination without the pressure of having to word it properly. I get to play with my favourite things - history and geography and magic - all at the same time. I love world building. But transmitting that information to poor, innocent readers – aye, there’s the rub. Because once a world is created, it’s important those reading it can get the hang of it for the story set within it to make sense. But exposition is dull. Many a writer has lost their readers with a big, fat factual overload dump early on. So how to introduce the

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 You know, I never used to pay that much attention to history. It seems odd to say it now sitting in my house crammed with history books and my medieval re-enactment kit piled up in crates just to my left. And the odd thing was – it wasn’t that I wasn’t interested. The problem, much as I hate to say it as an undisputed Hermione Grangeresque swot, was school. I’m not sure exactly how things stand in school these days, but I know that back in ancient times when I was being educated, the problem with history was that no one was interested in teaching you the interesting bits.   We rushed through Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome in primary school, cantered through the Dark Ages to the English Civil War before I even hit my teens and then, just as I was of an age to start appreciating history, what did we stick on? The Industrial Revolution. Oh God. We stayed there. For years, all through high school. We never even made it to the World Wars. And I can say hand on heart that there is no

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  The Name Game – The Sequel In honour of the release of The Merry Band , my sequel to The Disposable , I have been seized by the urge to write a sequel to my previous blog, where I discussed my naming strategies. And my premise is simply this – if you had to name yourself in the manner of my Realm, what name would you give yourself? Because on thinking about it for myself, it’s really not as simple as it sounds. Would you want to chose your own name or have it chosen for you? Would you want a name that genuinely reveals an aspect of your personality or would you prefer to keep your true self and any accompanying expectations privately behind a less accurate or less specific one? And what part of yourself would you chose to advertise if you did choose an accurate name – positive or negative, self-promotion or warning? A Realm name is like a badge. It tells a bit of your story to whoever hears it. But much like The Narrative, it depends on what side of the story you want to tell.

Announcing the arrival of the sequel to my debut fantasy satire novel The Disposable – The Merry Band ! The Taskmaster Strikes Back! Fodder successfully rebelled against The Narrative once, but now everything’s going completely and horribly wrong. It soon becomes apparent that his own companions are even more unstable than he realized, between Flirt’s suicidal rashness, Shoulders’ increasing desperation to keep his head attached to his body, Princess Pleasance’s unwillingness to speak, and Prince Dullard’s inability to shut up. Unfortunately, Fodder has bigger problems, because the Taskmaster is finally getting serious. That means it’s not just the Heroes hunting Fodder anymore; there’s an entire pantheon of gods after him. It’s too late to turn back, and Fodder wouldn’t even if he could. He’s determined to unveil the secret of the Quickening, even if it means saving the world while he's at it. UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Merry-Band-Katherine-Vick/dp/1951471083 US:

 Author Interview - The Merry Band For those who are curious, here is an interview I did with my publishers Thinklings about my upcoming The Disposable sequel. The Merry Band ! I hope you enjoy it. :)

  The Name Game I have a confession. I love names. I’m an avid collector of them. For example, there are some wonderful historical names my mother has uncovered in the course of her family history research – the winners so far being Valentine Pratt, Strange Peacock and brothers Wildsmith and Griffin Badger (the latter two being indeed a part of my genetic make-up!). As a child (sad as this makes me sound), I used to pause the credits of films on video and list any interesting names I found there. I have a number of name books, both conventional and slightly more unusual – my books of Cornish and Celtic names are an especially good source of fantasy names. And any time I come across a good name in normal life, I have a little notebook on hand to write it down. Strange to confess, I don’t do this purely to collect names for my writing. I do it because I like names. But, of course, it does come in handy in that regard. I’ve seen a number of discussions hither and thither on the inte

 I wrote this short story for a challenge long ago as a little poke at the fantasy/scifi idea of the sole hope for salvation and why it might not be a bad idea to have a backup...;) The Heart In Glass In ancient times, in ancient lands, there was a man. Admittedly, this was not unusual. But this man was faced with a terrible evil and he knew that what must be done could be done only with cold steel in the place of his heart. And so it was, he called upon the ancient light of power to pull all the love out of his soul and, sealing it with a glass container, he buried it high in the mountains, deep in the snow of year long winter, to be hidden from weak temptation by the roll of oncoming storms. But he feared, and he was right to fear, that with cold steel in place of his heart he would forget himself and so before he acted, he wrote what he had done and concealed that too within a beacon that would manifest should he fail to return for the love in his heart within ten thousand day

I'm a little short on original material today so I hope you'll forgive me if I simply take this opportunity to share a sneak peek of what is to come in my upcoming sequel to The Disposable. The Merry Band, coming to you on 2nd August 2021! :)

 I wrote this quickly off the top of my head a few weeks ago off the back of a conversation expressing the idea that certain names create certain… expectations in a character and can sometimes be used by an author as a shortcut to do some character developmental heavy lifting. The female name especially highlighted in this matter is the one I have used below. ;) What’s in a Name? “Freeze, demon spawn!” “Why, hello dear. Whatever is the matter?” “Oh, give it up, your sweet little old lady act is fooling no-one! We know it was you that released the hell hound into the football stadium!” “Hell hound? Oh no, dear, I’m much more of a cat person. See here, on the tea cosy? And my cushion covers? And the little knick-knacks on the mantlepiece, now that one on the left is my favourite, isn’t his face the sweetest thing?” “I don’t care about your… oh, it is quite sweet, look at that little smile, bless , what a…hey! Stop trying to distract me with cats!” “You seem very angry, dea

 A very silly dialogue only short piece written for a writing challenge to the prompt "No Brainer". I took my usual unconventional approach to this...;) The No-Brainer “Ummm…. Master?” “Now, now, now, yes! The body parts are all stitched together – lovely backstitch by the way, Igor…” “Thank you Master, but…” “The lightning rod is in place – yeeesss! And a perfect storm is bubbling away, hahahaha! This is going to be magnificent!” “Yes, Master but…”   “The equipment is ready, I’ve got my goggles and my white overalls – all the stains came out beautifully, Igor, do commend the cleaner…”   “Actually, I believe she’s the right buttock, Master. But…” “Everything is ready! Soon the power will surge into it and my creation will rise, rise, RISE!!!!! Hahahahahaha …” “But Master…” “What is it, Igor? Can’t you see I’m being melodramatic?” “Master, haven’t you… forgotten something?” “No, I don’t think so… Monster, storm, lightning rod, goggles, overall, evil ca

 Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to reveal to you the cover of my approaching sequel to The Disposable . Brace yourselves for The Merry Band, coming August 2nd 2021! :)

 Maybe it’s just me. It could be. A lot of things are. But does anyone else who writes out there sometimes find their feelings about a certain scene or story they’ve written can be unduly influenced by how they were feeling when they wrote it? Take Grim. Please. Yes, I know that sounds odd, to speak thus of one of the characters of my own work. But the trouble is – I associate him with trouble. I think I must have spent more time on that section of The Disposable , the scenes with Grim at his Fortress, than any other part of the book. Certainly, with only the possible exception of the opening of the second book of my trilogy (we’ll get to that some later day!), it’s the most rewritten and the most problematic scene I’ve ever written. Grim the Dark General has been through so many incarnations, so many different ways of responding and being that I honestly struggle to remember which one I ended up with. I’m still not even entirely sure to this day that it’s right. In my head, I’m not

  Ask the Author – April 2021 My second round of Ask the Authors questions is this month’s offering to blogdom – please find the questions and answers below, I hope they pass muster! From Jeannie Ingraham If you didn't write fantasy, what other genre do you think you'd try?  I suspect I would be writing either science fiction or historical fiction. I know some people bunch scifi and fantasy in together but to me they are both opposite ends of the imaginative spectrum – science at the base of one and magic at the base of the other – while sharing the same creative new world-building-and-exploring traits. And in many ways, historical fiction, setting characters in a different cultural society and seeing how things pan out, is of a similar ilk – they all involve playing about in a world not quite our own. As a lover of geography, history and imagination, I need to have that kind of playground. I couldn’t write stories set in our own, ordinary, modern world – I prefer to sp

I firmly believe there is a book out there for everyone. The problem is finding it. I have to be honest and say I find it really hard to understand why it is some people don’t like to read. But I’m also well aware that’s because I was brought in a home full of books by a family of heavy readers and therefore to me, that was just normal. Books were a part of life. Everyone in my immediate circle always had at least one book on the go, be it fact or fiction, and my home was awash with crammed bookshelves. Reading was for fun. But I know that many others aren’t so lucky. That, to many, reading was nothing but a chore associated with school or something that through no fault of their own, they found difficult and frustrating. When reading is an activity only done in association with something dull or even despised, it becomes a symbol of unhappiness and displeasure, with no association with enjoyment whatsoever. I’m aware in this time of lockdown learning, many children learning from

 https://www.thinklingsbooks.com/blog/new-books-are-springing-forth?fbclid=IwAR1osvidKI_9D_YB6TlGEChr3jNWDhSpGED14d5KSujY52eJpA1RMCU1xPY It is official - The sequel to The Disposable will be out later this year! Get ready for The Merry Band !

I actually wrote this as an office joke in honour of the previous census in 2011. To be fair, the tone of the 2021 census was slightly less militant than that one but I stand by being bewildered as to why the bloody hell they need to know my qualifications, means of getting to work, state of health and type of central flipping heating! In the olden days, they just wrote down who you were, where you lived, where you were born, what you did and if you were nuts and that just about covered it... This is your census speaking. You WILL complete every question. You will NOT skip anything. You will NOT make jokes. You will NOT say you're a bloody JEDI. You WILL read every line of every page and divulge every piece of information we ask of you or say goodbye to your house pet, sunshine. Answer and weep, suckers.... HOUSEHOLD QUESTIONS (Example selection) Can we see your house from here? Yes/No How many plug sockets do you have in your walls? How many are on average in use on the thir

 Ironically, I don't drink so have never experienced a hangover myself but I have been in the company of those who have and out of those observations arose the below. I wrote this short story for a writing group challenge years ago and for reasons I probably can't ever explain, I decided to write it in the form of epic prose. I'm like that...;) The Saga of the Hangover Once upon a time there was a man. This was not unusual. Nor was the fact that this man was holding a party, for twas his birthday and such things are often augmented by the copious consumption of alcohol. And lo, were a great variety of drinks clustered on his table together and lo, did he consume them and the world span greatly and he was glad and fell in a heap of joy. But upon the morn, the joy had departed from him. So, verily, had much self-respect, a copious volume of vomit and all of his brave companions of the night before. And lo, did he upon first waking and finding his eyelids glued to his eyeballs

I fell over earlier this week. Therefore this stream of consciousness ramble seemed an appropriate choice! To Fall What is falling? Is it the tumble, the lurch, the stagger, the stumble, the clumsy plunge earthwards with the mocking laughter of most witnesses ringing in your ears? Or the exhilaration of the dive, the rush of air past a body tumbling, with less control but more intent towards a death so certain but for a gathering of fabric released by a single yank on a cord? Is it the lurch in your stomach as only a quick grasp of a banister prevents a bruising bounce down a flight of stairs? Is it that bizarre sensation in the back of your mind as your gaze over a towering edge and just for an instant, you feel the urge to leap and fall forever? Is that falling? Or is it that scary/peaceful instant on the edge of sleep when you finally let go of consciousness and slip into your dreams? Is it the nod of your eyelids after a long day that steals great chunks of whatever unfortu

I don’t write poetry very often, I’m neither particularly profound or talented in this area. But occasionally the urge takes me and it seemed the best way to say what I wanted to express. The below is the result. Ode to the Distance I’ve never minded being home It is my chosen place to roam To read, to write, to settle down There’s just no urge to be in town I’m fine to potter all alone To chat by email or by phone So it doesn’t feel that wrong I’ve been at home so very long But sometimes I will take a pause Confess to miss the great outdoors The street is grey, the park is tame Somehow it isn’t quite the same As roaming in the beauty wide As being in big countryside I miss a taste of mountain air To see a hill-swept vista fair The splash of wave on rocky shore A tumbling stream on lonely moor The brush of breeze through forest trees A windswept beach with rolling seas Skies that boil with light and shade Rain-washed clouds that pulse and f

 I found this short story written for a long ago online challenge, the prompt being "catastrophic". It seemed oddly appropriate to current circumstances. Even in the worst of times, there's always one...;) Catastrophic It had always been Jim’s biggest problem. He had to try and make the best of things. The cave – for that was all the name one could really use for the remains of this deep Underground tunnel with its broken rails and walls shorn of random clusters of brick like a toothless old man’s maw - was shaking now, dust bursting from the roof in scattering spirals that glinted in the light of the last candle stub as the few remaining ragged survivors clustered there, their faces bloodied and their clothes in rags, clinging to each other in primal, vibrant fear. But for the roar above, a roar that whispered that the walls of this tunnel would not much longer shield them from swelling apocalypse above, there was silence.   Until…   “Still. It’s not all bad, is it

Brace yourselves. I need a small rant. When, oh when, did making money become more important than making something original and good? Yes, I know, it’s a stupid question that probably can’t be answered. But although it’s hard to precisely put one’s finger on the origin, there is no denying it is definitely the dominant way of things in this day and age. I do wonder, sometimes, if there is a finite amount of imagination out there in the world, people seem so afraid to use it. Or at least, to take a risk. I remember way back in the day, when I was hunting around for a literary agent, I came across the website for a pair of agents devoted exclusively to scifi and fantasy. Given the number out there that specifically state they don’t want scifi and fantasy submissions, this was a rare bonus. But as I read through their site, I came across a statement that stopped me in my tracks. They said, openly, in their submission requirements, that they didn’t want anything original . What they