I love history and every since I read Clan of the Cave Bear a dozen or so years ago, I’ve wanted to write something ancient. I’m very interested in the roots of things: it’s why I do so many word etymology studies and start most of my conversations with a question. Echoes of a Wild Girl’s Drum was published this month: it is set in Papua New Guinea. Before that, Whisperroot was set in Poland, Remember the Nightingale lived in Rwanda. For The Way of Water , I’ve moved to Northern Ireland in what is today Derry County but what is, in my story, Corcu Móinraige (of the seed). The time? Two thousand years ago.

I have much of the research completed (but still reading two very tedious books on marriage and customs), and the story mapping has begun. I am very excited about this story, about the historical research it is seeped in, and about Bréaca, my new character. Since I’ll inhabit her world for nearly a year, I wanted you to join me.

I’ve created new sections to the website – you can find them, and what to expect on each, below:

The Way of Water : Here you can find a development timeline that allows you to track the river from now to publication. It also has an overview of the story, links to sample chapters, and a 12 minute trailer of the Prologue. The Prologue introduces the collective voice of “We” that will become very significant. This page also gives factual information about the Ballymacomb More Woman’s remains and what forensics are known.

The World That Held Me : This showcases a map of Bréaca’s world along with sketches of significant places.

The Price of a Face : This is Bréaca explaining Brehon law and historical data I’ve learned from two definitive sources on early Irish history and how it relates to this story.

The Names We Carry : This offers you a way to learn more about the “branches” – the actual level pronunciation and surface meanings of the primary characters’ names.

Seeds We Sow : This story is about a woman who someone tried to erase… but whose body the bog held. One thing she loved was bog cotton. The seeds for this cotton become deeply meaningful for her. The real remains were found with plant woven fibers gathered at her knees; I imagine that to be a pouch where she collects her seeds. On this page ,I invite you to remember someone you loved or someone you feel the world forgot. Every time we speak forth a memory, we create a “field of bogs”, a place of remembrance and care.

Each story I write holds pieces of me. I cannot wait to see what you think of this one!