Guest Post: Under-explored areas of writing: Speculative Fiction "“ Dystopian by Erin Carrougher

“But ser,” broke in one of the deckpaws. “The greatest jewel in the world is said to be guarded by the fearsome kraken, as tall as the queen’s castle with tentacles longer than ten vessels nose to tail!”

“Which is why, m’dear, we not be partakin’ of the flesh of the inkton,” Cinrak explained. “Kraken’s cousins have proven intelligent and good friends of Rodentkind. Friends not be eatin’ friends. The mer archives tell us, yes, once beasts of Kraken’s size did exist. It be not our place to tempt The Depth’s wrath.”

The entire crew undulated two digits in a v shape of warding.

– “Search for the Heart of the Ocean”

In Thor: Ragnarok, a motley collection of hunters challenges a confused Thor with, “Are you friend, or are you food?” It’s a play on the hail “friend or foe,” building a dangerous world reveling in its violence and cannibalism in one swift sentence.

Cinrak’s rodent pirate world is one of fun, love, silliness, and respect. I wanted to create a through line about balance in community, nature, body, and spirit. What if pirates oversaw the equal distribution of resources? What if trans people had easy and equitable access to the health care they deserve? What if the monarchy answered to the people? What would keeping balance in the oceans look like?

As the quote above suggests, respect for the sapience of ocean creatures is baked (see: puns most definitely intended in this book) into the myths, legends, and superstitions of Rodentdom. The great kraken, the protector of sea creatures, has not been seen for hundreds of years. Rather than take this as carte blanche to chow down on the crumbed calamari with chili sauce, the rodents ask what so upset the balance of life that an entire species would suddenly disappear.

In early drafts, I made strong points about climate change and over-fishing disturbing not just the way of life, but magic. This too upset balance; the sweetness and respect for letting the world building bleed in from the edges and the unspoken had been compromised. Opting for a softer approach, I let the silent Agnes””the enormous kraken of myth””speak for herself. She forms a bond with one of Cinrak’s crew, shows them the wonders of the ocean, and becomes a mascot to the Impolite Fortune. Playful as a puppy, and knowing her worth, Agnes unapologetically takes up space. She just wants to hug… the whole ship.

Agnes becomes the herald in “The Hirsute Pursuit.” Her link to the ocean grapevine (seawood tangle?) allows her to be first with the news that a once in a generation harvest is ready. This story introduces another significant piece of Rodentdom’s ecosystem: a food source with properties that acts like hormone replacement for trans people. The only magic in this microcosm is how it has been guarded to ensure equal distribution of resources. Are the fairies rodent-flesh eaters? Their biology and behavior suggest something to that effect in their distant past. Or they could have found a solution to defending their land against colonial invasion. Either way, when left alone they understand and undertake balance, sharing their bounty with the rodents.

The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper is full of women who enjoy their food. Not for the spectacle of observers, but for pleasure and the nourishment of their bodies. As a pirate captain, Cinrak understands keeping her crew full, fit, and happy is a tool for community bonding and efficient livelihood. The food is in the detail. No one goes without a good cup of tea, or breakfast.

Including Agnes. Who cronches that shark with relish (pun alert!). Because she knows who is friend and who is food.

BIO: AJ Fitzwater lives between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. Their work focuses on feminist and queer themes, and has appeared in venues of repute such as Clarkesworld, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Shimmer, Giganotosaurus, GlitterShip, and in various anthologies. They are the author of rodent pirate escapades in The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper and the WW2 land girls shapeshifter novella No Man’s Land. With a background in radio, AJ lends their voice to podcast narrations, including for the Escape Artists universe. They enjoy maintaining a collection of bow ties. A unicorn disguised in a snappy blazer, they tweet @AJFitzwater. Their website is pickledthink.blogspot.com.

Purchase The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper from your preferred retailer or directly from Queen of Swords Press.

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I sat at a desk that I shared with two other people as a piece of paper was handed to me from my boss. I was nineteen years old, my boss was my dad, and the paper was an estimate for repairs for one of our clients. I don’t recall for what repairs exactly or even the cost, except that this client was going to be pissed at whoever was unfortunate enough to deliver the expensive news.

“You need to call them,” I was told. And that was that.

My father had started his pool company from scratch one year before I was born. I had worked a few jobs before joining the family ranks, but eventually landed there out of convenience and a false notion that it would be a simple job””answering phones, taking messages and the like. Perhaps even a little filing. Having just dropped out of university that year, just having any job at all was my only career ambition at that moment.

So, the estimate in hand, I called the client with zero idea just how to properly approach the topic of “I know money is tight for you, but here’s an estimate for lots of money and, oh, your pool won’t work until it’s fixed”. It did not go well. I said something stupid. Then I spent the next hour or so apologizing to both the client and my boss/dad. And right there in that moment of customer service hell, I also began to understand the cunning power of words.

I continued to learn through multiple failures, out of self-preservation to not get yelled at. I learned about words through phone calls and faxes and emails, through hirings and firings, through employee reviews and business acquisitions. I learned by drafting proposals and contracts. I learned while attending conventions and conferences and pool industry galas (yes folks, this is absolutely a thing).

Being the poster child for introversion and working in one the most customer facing industries on the planet, I taught myself how to articulate properly in order to get people out of my personal space bubble as quickly and efficiently as possible. This meant knowing how to talk to them, knowing how to manipulate the situation, how to arm myself with just the right word at just the right moment to mitigate shit blowing up in my face.

At nineteen I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a “real” writer yet. I was still in the mapping-out-battle-scenes-in-my-journal stage of writing. I hadn’t even the faintest idea of how to structure a basic scene, let alone a novel. Yet there I was, getting a crash course of the versatility of words, whether I wanted it or not.

At a speaking event I attended recently, author Kim Stanley Robinson touched on the benefits of day jobs for writers. It was a refreshing take, considering the engagement was hosted by Arizona State University and attended in bulk by students, of which I was not. Nothing makes you feel more like a flame out loser than surrounding yourself with a room full of MFA candidates, and as I was shrinking into my seat, feeling woefully outclassed as a full time pool lady, part time writer, Mr. Robinson began to speak about yet a second creative benefit to day jobs””mining the work place for inspiration.

I immediately perked up, piecing together all the ways I was already doing just that. How I used the eccentricities and flare and dynamism of the people I work with, incorporated so many of their quirks, their smiles and their hair styles, to turn my characters paper skin to flesh””The grandfather that kept a dedicated drawer in his work desk for Hillshire Farms meat, the coworker that interrupted a work meeting to announce the name of his car (Trixie), the mother (me) whose kid brushed his teeth with a highlighter one day when brought to work with her.

Authors sometimes see a day job as a hindrance to their writing life. The goal is to eliminate it, but in actuality it can be fuel. It’s life, it’s robust and strange and frustrating and chaotic. The characters are literally kicking down the doors, smashing their faces against the windows, and begging us to buy some girl scout cookies from their kid.

I always joke that the second I could make a living wage off of my writing all you’d see is a me-shaped cloud of dust in my office where I used to sit. And maybe I would dial it back a bit, work part time, but I’m finding more and more that to ditch the day job entirely is not part of my ideal future. It’s far too lucrative.

Or perhaps I’m just saying that to convince myself that it’s totally cool that I haven’t sold a book yet. Time will tell.

Author bio for Tiffany Meurat: Tiffany is a writer and desert dweller from Phoenix, Arizona. Her work can be found or is forthcoming with Four Chambers Press, Eunoia Review, Collective Unrest, Martian, and others. She is most often found wasting time on Twitter as @TMeuretBooks

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