Category: Publishing

Reading Fantasy and Science Fiction – Guest Post

I am pleased to have a fascinating guest post this week, written by a very supportive member of the writing community. Andrew McDowell writes fantasy fiction and contributes to short story collections. I loved his first novel, ‘Mystical Greenwood’ and enjoy his blog about writing.

Guest Post

Fantasy and science fiction take readers into worlds different from their own, offering supernatural and paranormal elements that are not found in everyday life. In fantasy, these elements often include magic and mythical creatures, whereas in science fiction there’s technology advanced to a new level (or taken/fallen to a terrible extreme, as in the case of dystopia).What is it about these fictional worlds that readers find so appealing?

Perhaps it is because they are so different that people are drawn to them. It is escapism. Reading, when done with pleasure, allows readers to be momentarily taken away from their own worlds. It makes sense, then, when life can sometimes feel too mundane. Having the possibility of magic or scientific advancement gives life flavor. Would people be inspired to learn more or imagine if all of life’s mysteries were solved? It was the need for such answers, to explain what could not be explained, from which sprouted mythologies and fairy tales all over the world.

But then again, we cannot totally escape from our own worlds. Perhaps, then, fantasy and science fiction, in offering us a form of escape, can be used to allow us to look at our reality and our life differently. Dystopian fiction is a fitting example—what would happen to humanity if science or the world itself went horribly wrong? One reviewer of my epic fantasy novel Mystical Greenwood described it not only as sword and sorcery, but also as an allegory of humans’ relationship with the natural world.

In conclusion, it is about seeking meaning. Mythology and modern religion have helped us find meaning in everyday life, and fantasy and science fiction take us a step further in finding meaning, and the best of these can not only do that, but also help us discover that meaning by shedding light on the present. Even to this day, there are unsolved mysteries and unexplained questions, and we’re still escaping into fantastical worlds. If we continue to have that, and if we desire something more, there will always be a need for fantasy.

Author Bio:

Andrew McDowell became interested in writing at age 11, inspired by childhood passions for stories and make-believe. By the time he was 13, he knew he wanted to be a writer. He studied at St. Mary’s College and the University of Maryland, College Park. He is a member of the Maryland Writers’ Association.


In addition to his fantasy novel Mystical Greenwood, Andrew has also written poetry, short stories, and creative nonfiction, and he is interested in writing drama and lyrics. He was diagnosed with Asperger syndrome, an autism spectrum disorder, when he was 14.

 

Links:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

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Goodreads

Amazon

 

Further Reading

1. Cowan, Cameron. Why Fantasy is a Necessary Ingredient for Living | Everyday Power.

2. Dewar, Gwen. The benefits of fantasy fiction and imaginative play (parentingscience.com).

3. Flanagan, Victoria. Children’s fantasy literature: why escaping reality is good for kids (theconversation.com).

4. Lafevers, R. L. Why Fantasy Matters | WIRED.

5. Webb, Beth. The real purpose of fantasy | Books | The Guardian.

Thank you so much for reading Andrew’s guest post. If you are a writer or blogger and would like to write a guest article I would love to include it, so long as it is mainstream.

Being Watched – My YA Book

As my new book is now a week old, I thought I would share another extract from it. This story is about two teenagers who are about to do their A-Levels when they come across a derelict country house. From that moment on their lives change for the worse as they cannot escape a feeling of constantly being watched.

Here is the snippet:

It was getting close to twilight when I called out to mum.

“I’m off to hang out with Max.”

“Alright, remember your key,” she yelled back as I undid the door that linked the garage to the kitchen.

 

I had picked up some crisps and other vital supplies on my way down and squeezed a bottle of lemonade into my rucksack before picking up my bike. I took a deep breath and was just about to leave when my phone started ringing. It was Max.

“Sorry man, I can’t make it,” he said with a frog in his throat. “You know how much I wanna be there. My throat has flared up and I have just been sick.”

“Oh man. That sucks,” I said shrugging my shoulders.

“Can we do it tomorrow instead?” he said with a genuine sound of someone who was not well.

“Don’t worry. We got this,” I said, putting the phone down and opening the garage up. I wheeled my bike out, clicked off the light and pulled the door down behind me. Taking a deep breath, I switched on my lights and took off.

 

My first stop would be the local shop. I needed to see if they had any garlic, just in case it was a vampire. Ok this was a long shot, but you have to be prepared for everything right? As I zoomed through the aisles, I soon set eyes on a clove of garlic and chucked it into my basket. Nearby they sold kitchen knives so I thought I may as well get one of those too. It would take the place of a stake just in case I needed to stick whatever was in there in its chest.

 

Maybe I was getting too carried away and this was starting to be me acting out my favourite movies a little, but I knew Siobhan would be pleased that I had taken precautions. To my surprise, when I got to the checkout, the cashier asked me for ID as she said I could only buy a knife if I had proof of age. Of course, that was one thing I had forgot to bring with me so I gave her the knife back and paid for the garlic. I also grabbed some cheap chocolate buttons to add to my supplies. I knew Siobhan had a soft spot for them and we might both need some instant energy during our mission. Especially if things got really scary.

 

I threw that idea to the back of my thoughts and got back on my bike. I didn’t want to be late and leave her waiting for me at the top of that hill. My feet ached a little as I had done some cricket practise earlier. Every time I turned the pedals they reminded me that I had fallen over trying to catch a long ball. Eventually I neared the top of the road and could see her stood next to her bike, earphones on, staring at her phone. She waved when she caught a glimpse of me.

“Hey, what took you so long?” she jested, knowing full well that we were both early.

“What you listening to?” I asked as I got off my bike and sidled up with her.

“Shawn Mendes. What else?” she replied, as if to say it was obvious.

“You know Max can’t make it? He came over sick.”

“That guy is sick. For sure,” she laughed, not really meaning it in a bad way, but equally not referring to him being cool either.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked, nervously.

Thank you for taking the time to read this short extract from my YA drama, Being Watched.

My Brand NEW Novel

I am so proud of this, my first full novel.

This week my first ever YA mystery novel comes out and I am so excited. Following on from the short novella, ‘The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost,’ which tested out my writing skills, I am delighted to see this passion project finally come to fruition.

Since writing this book I have established my little blog and so am shamelessly promoting my story here. Why ever not? I hope that you will check out the sample and consider pre-ordering my novel. If it is not your cup of tea, then perhaps I could ask you to drop a cheeky blog comment instead.

Here goes: An Extract From ‘Being Watched’.

“We’re off to Uni mate,” he said, breaking the silent reflection.

“I know. I need to double check the results as I still can’t believe I got an A in English.”

“Wonder how everyone else did.” Max continued.

“We will have to keep our eye on their statuses. I do hope Siobhan got what she had to get in order to make it to UCL.”

“I’ve just seen Martha’s status and she didn’t quite get what she wanted but is happy with her second choice of Uni,” said Max as he scrolled through timelines and checked a multitude of social media sites.

“I have texted Siobhan but she hasn’t got round to replying yet. She might even still be in bed,” I said, knowing that we had both been up later last night and she was well known for liking a good lay in.

Max changed the subject. He had become quite fixated on one of the pictures on the wall. It hung just above the bar area and I had never noticed it before. Perhaps it just hadn’t caught my eye up until now. But it sure as hell had caught Max’s.

“That picture is creepy. I mean it just looks so dark. All the other ones are bright and colourful but that one is murky and weird. What do you think?”

I turned around and tried to focus on it, but it took a while as it seemed misty and sort of out of focus itself. I gasped as I realised that the dark building surrounded by fields and trees had that familiar shape. Those strange pointed bits on the roof meant that I immediately recognised it. I quickly found myself walking over to it for closer examination. It was odd that it seemed to bend and muddle as I approached it. It was definitely a large house in the country, but had I misread it? I took a much closer look at the driveway and was taken aback to see that two people were standing there, with their bikes strewn nearby.

“That picture is of me and Siobhan. It’s that same messed up house. It is an aerial photo of us when we went round to pick up Siob’s scarf. Come and have a look!”

Max sped over and confirmed that it did look like it could be us. We were small in the photo but the bikes looked like ours and I was clearly wearing my blue coat while Siobhan had her red jacket and she was definitely picking up the bright blue scarf at the exact moment that the photo was taken.

I saw the owner, Lilly, coming past and called out to her.

“Hey, how long have you had this picture?” I asked politely.

“Oh. This old thing. Someone donated it recently when they saw that we had a hook with no picture on. It filled a gap, that’s for sure,” she replied with her usual lovely manner.

“Do you know what it is a picture of?” Max asked.

“No idea. Just think it looks interesting and unique.”

“Kind of creepy though, don’t you reckon?” I continued.

“We like quirky. The girl who brought it in was lovely but a little peculiar. I just felt it added to the character of the place. Quite a few people have commented on how mysterious it is.”

I decided I might as well ask more about the girl.

“You didn’t know the girl? Did she have a tattoo on the back of her hand?”

“Not sure really. I just remember she had jet black hair flowing behind her back. I remember wishing my hair looked that good.”

“Thanks anyway,” Max said, tugging at me to stop interrogating the busy lady any longer.

“You’re welcome. And I trust your exams went well, given the feisty meal you just ate.”

“Yes! Brilliant!” I said as I returned to the table and finished off the potatoes, thinking carefully about the significance of what just happened. Max looked at me with frustration.

“What does all this mean? I mean this is getting out of control.”

For another short story, published in Second Glance: Short Stories, have a read of Feeling Judged which is about the perception of discrimination during a work interview.