Gail Carriger
I don't want my writing to be work to read. My main goal is completely shameless entertainment. I want people to smile and giggle and enjoy the book. I'm not trying to save the world through literature.Collection: Smile
Smoke machines are the best!
I like certain subgenres within science fiction and fantasy, and one of those is urban fantasy, and another is steampunk.
I consider science fiction and fantasy my genre. And I've noticed over the years that there doesn't tend to be a lot of lighthearted, comedic stuff.
To me, steampunk and urban fantasy are naturally hinged together. And I think that's because I love the early gothic Victorian literature, and both things spring from that movement.
At least half my writing time is spent researching. So for every hour I'm actually clicking on the keyboard, I'm spending another hour trying to figure out some tiny detail I need answered.
Most people in archeology find their specialties in strange and unique ways. I always wanted to do archaeology, and then the time came for me to actually be in the field, and it was excruciatingly boring. Excavation is really, really boring.
As a field archeologist, one usually has to specialize in a particular part of the world or specific culture, whereas if one is a materials specialist, one can jump around to different areas. So I've had experience on excavations all over the place.
I do hold very strongly that tea is better in England. There's something in the milk. They must have special cows.
I get really flowery and verbose in my adult books, but I don't think I dumb down my Y.A. It's just cleaner and more snappy. And the adult books have multiple points-of-view. In my Y.A., it's always third person from the main character's perspective.
Laughter is healing and helpful and fun, and I see my role as an entertainer, and I want readers to leave my books smiling.
I pretty much will do anything for a laugh.
I love the Victorian era, and I always have, but I had a leg up on the writing because I was familiar with a lot of the science from the Victorian era. And that led to a massive interest in the science of this time of history.
Most of the names in my books have secondary meaning. Sometimes they foreshadow; sometimes they tell you about the character's origin or back story.
My absolute favorite food of all time is alpaca.
I'm a Reuben kinda girl, but I'll take a BLT with avocado in a red hot minute if it comes on ciabatta.
When all else fails, dress beautifully and throw your food.
Occasionally, if I am very confident in the establishment, I'll risk an egg salad on Dutch crunch, but I must be very confident indeed.
To the best of my knowledge, my youngest reader is 10 and the oldest is 95.
As for genre, my adult books are usually filed under science fiction / fantasy, although some stores put them into romance, and few have stuck them into horror. I consider all my books a mix of steampunk and urban fantasy.
I like to spoof the original Gothic classics, so there is also good dose of comedy in the 'Parasol Protectorate' - giggling readers are good.
I like powerful women, and I gravitate to any point in history when a female has significant power. I can spend hours researching any such amazing lady, from Ching Shih to Hatshepsut to Boudica to Zenobia.
I love stand-up comics, particularly those who have embraced podcasting.
It seems to me that Halloween is the perfect time to get all over steampunk.
It's no good choosing your first husband from a school for evil geniuses. Much too difficult to kill.Collection: Husband
How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.Collection: Thinking
Ivy waved her wet handkerchief, as much as to say 'words cannot possibly articulate my profound distress'. Then, because Ivy never settled for meaningful gestures when verbal embellishments could compound the effect, she said, "Words cannot possibly articulate my profound distress.Collection: Meaningful
One should do what one is best at on as large a scale as possible.Collection: Should
Who doesn’t want an exploding wicker chicken?Collection: Want
What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? I forbid you to be ill, wife.Collection: Wife
She was no closer to determining who might want her dead. There were just too many possibilities.Collection: Want
Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.Collection: Fashion
Classic author moment, "Oh dear, did I kill that character or not?Collection: Character
[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.Collection: Lost
Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as she was in a dreadful hurry. Given her previous familiarity with near-death experiences and their comparative frequency with regards to her good self, Alexia should probably have allowed extra time for such a predictable happenstance.Collection: Self
It was a constant source of amazement to Alexia that the only thing she had ever done in her entire life that pleased her mama was marry a werewolf.Collection: Done
She boasted the general battle-ax demeanor of an especially strict governess. This was the kind of woman who took her tea black, smoked cigars after midnight, played a mean game of cribbage, and kept a bevy of repulsive little dogs. Alexia liked her immediately.Collection: Dog
What if all those strange and unexplainable bends in history were the result of supernatural interference? At which point I asked myself, what's the weirdest most eccentric historical phenomenon of them all? Answer:the Great British Empire. Clearly, one tiny little island could only conquer half the known world with supernatural aid. Those absurd Victorian manners and ridiculous fashions were obviously dictated by vampires. And, without a doubt, the British army regimental system functions on werewolf pack dynamics.Collection: Fashion
I suspect it may be like the difference between a drinker and an alcoholic; the one merely reads books, the other needs books to make it through the day.Collection: Book
Scotsmen, she had occasion to observe, often did have nice knees. Perhaps that was why they insisted upon kilts.Collection: Nice
Past persons of Scottishness in contact with mastermind of supernatural persuasion in London, aka Agent Doom.’ Floote moved on to the third bit of paper. “ ‘Lady K says Agent Doom assisted depraved Plan of Action. May have all been his idea.’ Moving on to the last one, he read out, "Summer permits Scots to expose more knee than lady of refinement should have to withstand. Hairmuffs much admired. Yours etc., Puff Bonnet.Collection: Summer
She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.Collection: House
I am rather fond of ladybugs. They are so delightfully hemispherical.Collection: Ladybugs
Acknowledgements With grateful thanks to the three least-appreciated and hardest-working proselytizers of the written word: independent bookstores, librarians, and teachers.Collection: Teacher
There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.Collection: Doe
She moved with such purpose it was as though she walked with exclamation marks.Collection: Exclamation Marks
She poked him in the center of his chest with two fingers to punctuate her words. “You are an unfeeling”—poke —“traitorous”—poke—“mistrusting”—poke—“rude”—poke —“booby!” Every poke turned him mortal, but Lord Maccon didn’t seem to mind it in the least. Instead he grabbed the hand that poked him and brought it to his lips. “You put it very well, my love.Collection: Hands
Poetry can cause irreparable harm when misappliedCollection: Irreparable Harm
Which was why, some six hours later, Alexia Maccon's daughter was born inside the head of an octomaton in the presence of her husband, a comatose werewolf dandy, and a French inventor.Collection: Daughter
I kissed her," he explained, aggrieved. "Mmm, yes, I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing that, ah-hem, overly public occurrence." Lyall sharpened his pen nib, using a small copper blade that ejected from the end of his glassicals. "Well! Why hasn't she done anything about it?" the Alpha wanted to know. "You mean like whack you upside the noggin with that deadly parasol of hers? I would be cautious in that area if I were you.Collection: Mean