The experience of refugees the world over is sadly the same: Fleeing from conflict and persecution, all they want is safety for themselves and their children—a chance at a normal life, such as you and I might take for granted. As of 2018, there were over sixty-eight million displaced people in the world. A “zero-tolerance” policy essentially means damning them and their dreams of a safe home, far from violence. So many people the world over lack the most basic necessities: clean water, adequate food, a roof over their heads that won’t get blown up during the night.

This was written for a gorgeous illustration by Julie Dillon, but the sea turtles paired with the second moon took a while to work themselves out in my head, so it took a few months of worldbuilding to discover the story I wanted to write: One about a lesbian relationship wherein, during a separation, both partners wonder whether it might be better for the other if they weren’t dating. As with so many ideas that become finished pieces, that initial idea got the writing started, but another aspect of the story eventually took center stage.It took a while for me to find it though.

When you’re in America, trying to write fantasy in English, you’re so often referred to The Hero with a Thousand Faces as the source of everything good and perfect. But while reading it I, as a woman, felt almost deliberately pushed out into the cold. I wanted to write something that would illustrate just how dismissive it is of anyone who isn’t a straight cis man . . . and decided that I could do it as a 1000-word flash to make my life easier during week three of Clarion West. Uncountable months, four drafts, and a 150% increase in length later, I hear the universe laughing at me.

I’ve always wanted to write some sort of homage to the many science fiction/fantasy authors and stories that have influenced me personally, especially as a kid. That notion kinda evolved into an exploration of the ebb and flow of “the sense of wonder” in various stages of life. Plus, my writing generally tends to be heavy and tough to read, so I reached a point where I just wanted to write something lighter and more fun for a change. All that merged into “Gundark Island.”

The only books featuring Indian culture, mythology, legends, and fantasy are highly Americanized or Disneyfied versions which are really more American than Indian, this is especially true of YA and middle grade fantasy by Indian-American authors. They’re wonderful authors and books, but they’re not representative of what Indians are reading back home, and in fact, many of these same Indian-American authors and books are not read at all for these same reasons. My goal is to write stories and books that remain true to my culture and country of origin without Americanizing or Disneyfying anything.

I spent one summer in college doing an archaeological dig at a colonial site in Virginia as part of my minor in Anthropology. The surface of the site was littered with artifacts from the present and recent past—beer bottles and assorted other debris. Scraping away the dirt revealed the foundation of a building long gone, bits of broken pottery and tiny glass beads. Archaeology, to me, has always felt a bit like digging backwards through time, and I’ve been wanting to write a story about it for a long time.

Adoption, in a strange way, is a kind of surrogate family-making. I am extremely fortunate to have two parents who love and support me, though this is a complex relationship and one that is far from the status quo. Especially now that I am approaching a societally accepted age for parenting, I am forced to reevaluate these complications with much more vigor than I did when I was younger.

I love writing stories that draw on Indian mythology yet turn the tale around in some unexpected way. In this story, it’s especially fun because I got to write a chase sequence and a battle both at once! So they’re literally chasing after Vrath and attacking him from behind as they try to catch him (or destroy him). That was really fun to write. Chariots and magic arrows and a demi-god who can’t be killed but can be wounded and hurt.

For a long time I have wanted to write a story about space exploration for the rest of us—that is, those of us who are not fighter pilots, crazy wealthy, or even physically fit. So far, space has been reserved for elites, and as long as we insist on sending wetware up there, it’s going to stay that way. But there are other ways! We don’t have to be passive observers of other peoples’ heroism, even in the short run.