“It Holds Her . . .” is an awesome SF story, and I was so happy to have read it! To me, it’s about our relationships to our peers and mentors, and our relationships to nature itself. What was the inspiration behind it? What was your writing process like?

Writing “It Holds Her . . .” was a little different from my normal process. This is one of my “creature stories,” so the gastor came first. I just kept wondering what an animal would look like if it had evolved to live in space. I honestly just had fun coming up with new physiological adaptations, and I even consulted my sister, who studies atmospheric science, for some help.

Of course, once I started worldbuilding, I stumbled on other interesting questions as well. For example, I decided to make the gastor exceptionally long-lived. There are real animals that live for hundreds of years, jellyfish who can even cycle between juvenile and adult forms. It’s humbling to think about what these animals may have witnessed and what their inner worlds could possibly look like. I was able to explore that with the gastor, as well.

There’s still a bunch of biology that ultimately didn’t make it into the story—which always happens when I write about my creatures—but I feel that having a complete understanding of the gastor informed how I wrote about them, even if some details were not explicitly exposited.

The story itself was designed around the gastor—how could I showcase this cool creature in an equally compelling story? How does this animal navigate relationships with humans? Creating this antagonistic relationship between the human characters and the gastor was more interesting to me than giving them a mutualistic relationship. Discovering the sapience of an animal companion is often written as a happy story, a sort of reunion between two friends who have discovered a new way to deepen their relationship. I wanted to explore a different side of that narrative.

What was it like writing the human/gastor relationship? The way the gastor communicate is such an interesting way that humanity can use to interact with them. I think we often forget that scents have a place in communication as well.

I’m glad you thought it was interesting! When I write from the point-of-view of non-human characters, I try to make that POV distinctly non-human, which often means challenging deeply ingrained norms, such as prioritizing oral communication and visual stimuli. Communication and physiology go hand-in-hand. Humans have uniquely expressive faces, great eyesight, and complex vocal control. Different animals sense the world differently, so they need different ways to talk to one another; we can already see this with our own pets if we’re observant enough. The smell of another cat is far more profound to my cat Louis than it is to me, and he may have an emotionally intense reaction to this stimulus that I can’t even sense.

The relationship between Sun and the bird was fascinating to write because of how much it differs from my personal relationships with my animals. I feel that most human/animal relationships are (at least somewhat) one-sided, because most animals do not have the cognitive capability to return the same emotional devotion that we feel for them. But these are mutually beneficial relationships despite that; pets, athletic partners, and animal colleagues hold trust and love for their human companions, and that love is invaluable even if it isn’t human love.

I can’t say it’s impossible, but it’s definitely unusual to experience this kind of relationship with an animal sapient enough to return those feelings of love—but cannot due to its circumstances. Sun and the bird have a relationship characterized by codependence, betrayal, and hatred. The bird knows what was stolen from it, and it will not forgive those responsible for its imprisonment. Following the events of the story, I don’t know if Sun can love the bird the same way she used to love it; before, she willingly and ecstatically accepted that her livelihood depended entirely on the bird because of her love for it, and if anything, that codependency made her feel closer to the bird. Now she still owes the bird everything, and she’s haunted by it.

I really liked the student-mentor relationship between Sun and Dossa. At times, they share a friendly comradery; at others, a rivalry. What do you think Dossa feels his role is in Sun’s life, now that they work close together? She seems like an idealistic sort while he sometimes feels like a jaded vet who’s seen everything.

Dossa feels that his role is to protect Sun. He and Sun are very similar people, so he often perceives Sun as a younger version of himself. He makes assumptions about her based on how he thinks he should have been mentored when he was in her position, and while this is often infuriating for Sun, he’s usually correct. Most of all, he knows that she never would have believed him if he was forthright about the bird’s sapience, and that she will have to work through the bird’s machinations on her own.

Dossa very much represents maintaining the status quo, so he is primarily driven by fear. He doesn’t know what his life would look like if he weren’t a pilot, and he doesn’t want to find out. He refuses to conceive of the possibility that Sun would go through what he has gone through—see what he has seen, learn what he has learned—and come away with a different worldview than his own. But that possibility is always there, lurking over him throughout the story—what if Sun truly communicates with the bird and decides she wants to unravel everything they have worked for?

What’s next for you? Do you have any projects coming out that we can look forward to?

I have two upcoming flash pieces that explore nonhuman perspectives in alien societies. The first features insectoid aliens involved in a surgeon cult and will also be published in Lightspeed. The second is part of a secret Neon Hemlock zine.

There are also two longer pieces in the works. I recently finished editing a novella, and it’s finally become exactly what it’s supposed to be: a tragic love story haunted by ancient creatures. My other project is a grimdark fantasy novel that has eaten up most of my free time. This story is dedicated to my love of villains and monsters, so naturally the main character is part of a species of apex predators born out of a flesh pit. Yes, they eat people, but sadly, it’s not technically cannibalism.