This story was in perfect alignment with that inclination of mine. All I knew when I began was one pivotal scene, and nothing else, not even an idea how to start the story so I’d eventually reach that point. Until I woke one night with the opening sentence in my head, scribbled it down in the dark, and hoped I’d be able to read my handwriting the next morning. (Luckily, I could!) And then I began writing as best as I was able the next, best sentence, over and over again. That’s how it is with most of my stories. But as to where this one differed—I had no idea whether anything I was doing would actually result in an eventual story.

I’d read an article a long time ago about bees that collected honey from flowers that produce psychotropic chemicals, and after that, I’d always wanted to write a story that touched on mad honey in some way. But on its own, the mad honey was just a detail; not enough to shape a story around. It wasn’t until this idea crashed headlong into a writing prompt asking for a story touching on wolves or werewolves that everything came together.

This story originated mid-morning in the Crown & Anchor parking lot, on a particularly potent cocktail of weed, shrooms, coffee, and booze. A friend had come through town to say goodbye before heading off to join the Navy, and he was talking to me about meth-head drywallers and ants being the earliest machine intelligence and how he hopes we eat the rich, and I was too high for it. I kept seeing flashes and texting them to myself so as not to forget.

Write what you love, and only if you love it, because this is a hard and often lonely business to be in. If you loved what you wrote, that’s already a win, whether or not it gets published. But if you are passionate about a particular story, your passion and your voice will shine through, and that’s what will make your story unique and stand out in a slush pile. The writing is all that’s in your hands. Focus on your craft. Get yourself a writing group or critique partners you can rely on. That makes the process less lonely—at least it did for me!

This was originally a short I’d intended to include in a climate change anthology that explored more tangible, localized impact rather than the distant/impossible macro-disaster approach that ends up being the focus of a lot of media. And then the world started catching up to the stories being written and it somehow felt less poignant and more “news at eleven.” So “12th St. Pirates” takes from existing examples of apartheid and classism and places them in a climate justice framework, positing that we are going to take our societal ills into a climate altered future. As our climate situation worsens, there are segments of society that will choose to see walls as a fix.

I’ve seen lots of Baba Yaga retellings and modernizations—and don’t get me wrong, the old witch is fascinating, deserving of every ounce of attention she gets. For this story, though, I wanted to cast one of the figures of Slavic folklore I don’t see revisited nearly as often: Poludnitsa (also known as the Noon Witch, or Lady Midday). Pulling from my own experiences, I threw in some teenage angst, some intergenerational dissonance, and a Burning Man–esque desert setting that’s going to be make or break for our modern Noon Witch.

I love time travel stories, and I always have. Not just time travel stories, but time-bending stories, time-jumping stories, any kind of time-futzing, I’m there for it. The novel I’m writing now is called Big Time. It’s a time-manipulation piece, and it had me doing a lot of research on theories and mechanisms of time travel. I think this story came from that work. So it’s a bit of a subsidiary to the novel I’m working on—although it’s a very, very different piece, both in plot and tone. In terms of inspiration, Back To The Future is an obvious one; anything where you’ve got a hero, especially a self-confident, clever kid, traveling through time, you’re in BTTF territory.

The germ of this story was a little flight of fancy I had one day, involving a young dragon that went into a cave and then grew so much that it couldn’t get out. Then I realized it fit into a series of stories I’ve been writing off and on for (eek) fifteen years now. This is the fourth to be published, after “Wizard’s Six,” “Dragon’s Teeth,” and “Chisel and Chime.” Several more are in progress. The twin guideposts for all of them are Earthsea and Viriconium.

In stories like this one, particularly when the central conflict is built around a pandemic or climate change, happy endings often come in the form of restoring the status quo—we win by overcoming the new threat and setting things back the way they were. In reality, this thinking doesn’t work for climate change because “the way things were” is what got us into this mess in the first place. The only way we win now is by embracing radical change: in ourselves, our behaviour and our society. I wanted to write a story that made the metaphor literal.

Here’s some advice for other writers but also advice for myself: don’t care so much about pleasing everyone with your writing. Know that some people are going to like what you write and some people are not going to like what you write and that’s okay. Remember a person’s opinion of a story or a book generally says more about their reading preferences than about the quality of the story or the book. Also leave positive reviews on Goodreads and Amazon for the books you love. And if you read something you love, drop the author a line and let them know.