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.

Well, it hadn’t occurred to me before, but this is definitely a spiritual sequel of sorts to a story I wrote when I was seventeen, the first line of which was, “Once we invented cars which ran on sadness, all our problems were solved.” There’s more I could explore about physical belongings as vessels for emotion and about how our feelings, even in this world, affect the world around us in complicated ways.

It’s also important to remember that there were plenty of historical women at the time who bucked tradition and told people to get stuffed, by traveling the world, practicing medicine, doing good science, and so on. I think it’s Harry’s position as a member of the royal family that restricts her even more than her identity as a woman. Still, the real Princess Maud of Wales was no wilting flower.

Jeel plays a very prominent role in Upon A Burning Throne and the rest of the Burnt Empire series. She is, in fact, the closest thing to a God Supreme in that particular world. (At least for now. Who among us mere mortals can truly know which other Gods may lie lurking in the celestial cosmos?) She has great power and influence, since she governs all water bodies in the world of Arthaloka.

I first wrote this story in January 2017 (it’s been a long and winding road). 2017 was Canada’s sesquicentennial, and this story was largely my way to work through some very, very conflicted feelings about “Canada 150.” At the time, I worked in heritage/tourism, and there was a lot of soul-searching involved in balancing the demand for “FUN HAPPY MAPLE SYRUP PARTY, EH?” and the reality that Canada’s colonial settler history and present are pretty terrible.

Just earlier this morning I was walking through the Ramble in Central Park, not thinking about anything in particular, when I was suddenly struck by a memory of a specific smell: the tart, pungent, synthetic scent of the pleather seats on the bus that I rode as a child. And a feeling of nostalgia immediately overwhelmed me. The memory hadn’t been triggered by some similar smell in the air around me. The memory had come to me completely randomly.

I’ve been thinking about the pendulum of history a lot lately; that process of revolution, backlash, correction, and overcorrection, and the way you can see it within a family as much as you can within a nation. This story began to develop for me when I was thinking about the relationship between science and magic, and how folks like to pretend they’re separate things.

The story was very much inspired by me turning fifty and the realization that I was (at least in some ways) at the midpoint of my life. When I conceived the story, it had a far more downbeat ending, but stories are created in the writing, not in the planning. The ending came as a pleasant surprise to me, even more so given my personal circumstances at the time . . .

Vrath is inspired by a famous character from the Indian epic Mahabharata, which was the starting point and inspiration for a part of Upon a Burning Throne. I was going to write him pretty much as he appears in the novel, which is as a strong supporting character. But I wanted to know more about him than I found in the Mahabharata or any other source.

It will come as no surprise that beginning as a child, I loved wolves. I had a couple of picture books about wolves and I also got Very Upset when they were cast as the bad guys in so many things. Some early influential reads were The Changeling Prince by Vivian Vande Velde; Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George; I read White Fang at way too young an age.