I grew up in the heart of Africa among a rich storytelling tradition. This is where my love for Fantasy was born. My brother, cousins, and I used to sit around the fire whilst my grandparents and the elders told stories of fantastical creatures, mythical beings, and faraway worlds. The storytelling invoked the most powerful emotions that I try to emulate in my writing. It ranged from normal speech to susurrus whispers, singing to chanting, and back to normal speech. I was enthralled.
These were folktales that had been passed down from generation to generation, and yes, as is the case with most oral lore, the tales were so exaggerated they oozed finesse at each retelling. By the time, they reached my ears, they brimmed with richness and depth. I would listen avidly and imagine wandering through these amazing worlds, unveiling all the mythical mysteries, and discovering gleaming gems in the mud. These were mere appetizers for my imagination. True gratification came from putting my own spin on the tales.
One story was told repeatedly, a magical tale of a breathtaking world underneath the waters. Instead of imagining rivers and lakes, I envisioned the roaring ocean as a stimulating alternative. At that time, I had never seen the ocean in real life before. All I could do was envisage its staggering beauty and the mysterious world below, a realm as enthralling as it is treacherous, a kingdom of moonbows and myths. There was no surprise my debut book would be set in this realm.
Some may need spears, swords, bones and sticks to define their destinies, but you are a flower that dances in the breeze. You have a mind of a conqueror and the heart of a goddess. You will conquer the world with no arms but your mind.Raldarinda (SeQuence Entangled)