#scottish author

[burlap-bows]

I discovered this wonderful sapphic novel called Mrs. S,” written by K Patrick. I love the writing style; there are no quotation marks, and it's very stream-of-consciousness, which I find makes the story more immersive. There's not much in the way of plot, mainly just vibes. It's set in a boarding school, and it follows the relationship between the butch matron and femme headmistress. This book is so good that it's actually homophobic that I didn't find it during Pride Month! Anyway, if you haven't read it already, go give it a read!

[susantbraithwaite]

Well, Hello There!

Hi, I’m Susan 👋 It’s been a while since I introduced myself! Let me take a minute to say hi to the new faces around here. 🤗 I’m a Scottish romantic suspense author. I love writing about Scottish spy heroes and the strong women they fall for. My stories are filled with intrigue, passion, and a bit of Scottish charm… we do have a flair for inventive swearing (that’s charm, isn’t it?)🕵️‍♂️❤️ When…

[theaskew]

Filth, a novel by Irvine Welsh, 1998. (Jonathan Cape, UK.; W. W. Norton & Company, US)

[authorrmbrown]

But it wasn’t frivolous at all, Cait thought. To her, it was earth-shaking, and history-making, yet as fragile as a folktale.

Song of the Stag, a sapphic fantasy inspired by Scottish independence and folklore ✨

Available on Ringwood Publishing and other major book sellers.

[scotianostra]

On February 16th 1954 the writer Iain Banks was born in Dunfermline, Fife

Banks was a son of a professional ice skater and an Admiralty officer. He spent his early years in North Queensferry and later moved to Gourock because of his father’s work requirement. He received his early education from Gourock and Greenock High Schools and at the young age of eleven, he decided to pursue a career in writing. He penned his first novel, titled The Hungarian Lift-Jet, in his adolescence. He was then enrolled at the University of Stirling where he studied English, philosophy and psychology. During his freshman year, he wrote his second novel, TTR.

Subsequent to attaining his bachelor degree, Banks worked a succession of jobs that allowed him some free time to write. The assortment of employments supported him financially throughout his twenties. He even managed to travel through Europe, North America and Scandinavia during which he was employed as an analyzer for IBM, a technician and a costing clerk in a London law firm. At the age of thirty he finally had his big break as he published his debut novel, The Wasp Factory, in 1984, henceforth he embraced full-time writing. It is considered to be one of the most inspiring teenage novels. The instant success of the book restored his confidence as a writer and that’s when he took up science fiction writing.

In 1987, he published his first sci-fi novel, Consider Phlebas which is a space opera. The title is inspired by one of the lines in T.S Eliot’s classic poem, The Waste Land. The novel is set in a fictional interstellar anarchist-socialist utopian society, named the Culture. The focus of the book is the ongoing war between Culture and Idiran Empire which the author manifests through the microcosm conflicts. The protagonist, Bora Horza Gobuchul, unlike other stereotypical heroes is portrayed as a morally ambiguous individual, who appeals to the readers. Additionally, the grand scenery and use of variety of literary devices add up to the extremely well reception of the book. Its sequel, The Player of Games, came out the very next year which paved way for other seven volumes in The Culture series.

Besides the Culture series, Banks wrote several stand-alone novels. Some of them were adapted for television, radio and theatre. BBC television adapted his novel, The Crow Road (1992), and BBC Radio 4 broadcasted Espedair Street. The literary influences on his works include Isaac Asimov, Dan Simmons, Arthur C. Clarke, and M. John Harrison. He was featured in a television documentary, The Strange Worlds of Iain Banks South Bank Show, which discussed his literary writings. In 2003, he published a non-fiction book, Raw Spirit, which is a travelogue of Scotland. Banks last novel, titled The Quarry, appeared posthumously. He also penned a collection of poetry but could not publish it in his lifetime. It is expected to be released in 2015. He was awarded multitude of titles and accolades in honour of his contribution to literature. Some of these accolades include British Science Fiction Association Award, Arthur C. Clarke Award, Locus Poll Award, Prometheus Award and Hugo Award.

Iain Banks was diagnosed with terminal cancer of the gallbladder and died at the age of 59 in the summer of 2013.

[gemmahale]

Y’know what? If I’m going to be writing Scottish family members and such for Righteous Fury, I should have someone Scot-pick it. (This is a play on @pfhwrittes’ Brit-picking he helps me out with.)

I know I want to include Scots, because it’s a language that deserves more exposure, and it makes sense for the MacTavishes to speak it, I think. (We canonically know Soap slips terms into conversation, so he’s not unfamiliar.)

I’m drawing a blank on who might be able and willing to help me with this. I’m more than happy to negotiate a price, because expertise deserves compensation.

I don’t know that knowledge about the CoD characters is necessary. Probably gives an advantage though.

Help an author out, friends?

I want this to be done right, not by the seat of my pants.

[mimilllion]

sure man ill post this here too why not. dana hiss charme buck nyailde and desmond kittysene

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Our Lady Of Mysterious Ailments & The Mystery at Dunvegan Castle

books 2 & 3 in the Edinburgh Nights series

paranormal mystery set in a climate-ravaged future Scotland, plagued by ghosts and magic

follows a 15yo Black girl who’s finally gotten an in to learn scientific magic properly - but it turns out to be an unpaid internship, so she has to take more jobs delivering ghost messages and investigating mysteries to take care of her gran and little sister

in book 2 she’s investigating a strange illness centred on a magic school for boys

and in book 3 she’s attending a global magician conference held in a creepy castle - when someone’s murdered, and they’re locked in until she figures out the culprit

Zimbabwean magic, friendship, disabled characters, no romance (so far)

[adventuresofalgy]

The wonderful and distinctive aroma of bog myrtle is only released into the air on warm, sunny days, which, as many of Algy's friends will know from his adventures, occur only rarely in the wild West Highlands of Scotland…

But it brings to those few balmy days a quality which all who experience it never forget, for the combination of that unique fragrance with the other scents peculiar to the peat bogs (and indeed to "the hills of the North") creates a lasting memory of an environment "far from the madding crowd" where - providing the weather is kind - it is still possible to find comfort and peace.

So Algy hopped down from his view point and nestled deep into one of the many ragged bushes which were scattered across the hillside. Taking a big, deep breath he inhaled the scent of the aromatic leaves, rejoicing not only in the delightfully invigorating effect, but also in the knowledge that the infamous Scottish midges so little appreciate the benefits of this particular herb that their vast hordes would keep well away from him so long as he stayed close to the protective bog myrtle. 😀

Let them boast of Arabia, oppressed By the odour of myrrh on the breeze; In the isles of the East and the West That are sweet with the cinnamon trees Let the sandal-wood perfume the seas; Give the roses to Rhodes and to Crete, We are more than content, if you please, With the smell of bog-myrtle and peat! Though Dan Virgil enjoyed himself best With the scent of the limes, when the bees Hummed low 'round the doves in their nest, While the vintagers lay at their ease, Had he sung in our northern degrees, He'd have sought a securer retreat, He'd have dwelt, where the heart of us flees, With the smell of bog-myrtle and peat! Oh, the broom has a chivalrous crest And the daffodil's fair on the leas, And the soul of the Southron might rest, And be perfectly happy with these; But WE, that were nursed on the knees Of the hills of the North, we would fleet Where our hearts might their longing appease With the smell of bog-myrtle and peat!

[Algy is quoting the poem To C H Arkcoll by the 19th century Scottish author and collector of folk and fairy tales, Andrew Lang.]

For those interested: bog myrtle (Myrica gale) has long been used in traditional herbal medicine, as it has many useful properties. The Herbal Resource has further information.

[deancaspinefest]

all out to sea

Author: s7jacket | Artist: golby moon

Posting on Wednesday April 10

Growing up on a tiny Scottish island, Dean has heard the legends before—legends of creatures that swim in one form and walk on land another. He’s very sure they’re supposed to be fictional, too, but when he comes across the injured guy sprawled across the rocks clutching a dirty old trenchcoat, he has to wonder, as he takes him home, whether selkies truly are creatures of myth.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

The hum of the engine pulls him back from his distant thoughts. The boat is sailing his familiar route—straight towards the horizon and left towards the trees on the other side of the bay. His little town wraps around the horseshoe curve of the island shore, with huge, thick-trunked pine trees creeping their way up the hills. Dean’s cottage, small and squat, sits closest to the water in all its unimposing, white-washed glory, and just beyond that, the homes and businesses are dotted haphazardly around, deferring to the natural landscape rather than the other way around. Birds fly overhead and roost in the roof of the pub, with the generational knowledge that dropped chips will be abundant there; parents send their children out on the agreement to be back by tea time, and those children become responsibility of the island, briefly, returned to their wild ways. The air is sharp and wet with sea spray. The wind nips in quick around unprotected ears and noses. Nothing changes but the seasons.

Dean turns off the engine and lets the bob of the tide pull them forwards. “Whoah, baby,” he soothes, patting the wheel the way one might gentle a skittish horse into submission. Dean, long used to the choppy waves, isn’t sickened by the gentle rocking; sometimes, it feels strange walking on the still, solid set of dry land. When the boat has found a rhythm, he dons the hat he never wears in front of Sam and steps to the side of the boat where the nets sit rolled up and ready.

“Okay, baby, you got this,” he says, and throws the nets overboard. He doesn’t expect a huge haul, nor does he need one—he only feeds the people on the island, and even then, some of them wait for the fancy stuff from the once-a-week supply ferry. They’re the kind of people who want their fish to come pre-battered, anyway, so he’s not losing out on too much business. While the nets sit in the murky waters below, Dean preps the ice buckets to throw the fish in.

He’s just about to haul the first net in when he sees—no, he doesn’t, and he puts his hands on the net again—but actually, yes, it is, sprawled across the the rocky outcropping on the starboard side of the boat. A guy, dark haired, broad shouldered and—yep, naked as the day he was born. There’s a flush creeping over Dean’s face that he tells himself is from the sun, as he leans out to look at the prone figure, as he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey, you over there!” over the sea-soaked wind.

The guy doesn’t stir. If Dean was a betting man, he might wager he was dead (Dean is a betting man, but the only person to gamble with is himself, and he doesn’t trust himself not to cheat). A minute later, he shouts again, to no avail. There’s nothing for it. He’ll have to go over.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday April 10)

[blaithnne]

Can we as a fandom collectively move on from writing Scrooge’s accent out in dialogue? Like the “ye” thing? Please. Please. Please. Please Please Please PLEASE—

[kazz-brekker]

apparently ava reid is going on tour in the uk for lady macbeth and i am. very curious. how the good people of scotland are going to react to a book that so badly stereotyped all scottish people as evil brutes and the country as barren and ugly that i was genuinely shocked and uncomfortable reading it

[thesudrianchronicles]

Got a new book, got inspired by @mean-scarlet-deceiver doing this with the G&SWR books.

The Author thinks about L&NW exiles on the Sou' West:

"Curiously enough, it was of the L&NW that I thought in our extermity. The L&NW - hardly a railway publication could you open without accounts of the prowess of their engines - George the Fifths, Prince of Wales, Claughtons. And they had hunderds of them! Surely they could spare a few to run our trains more efficiently. I pictured a Claughton on the Pullman, a George the Fifth on the 5.10p. Glasgow to Ayr, a Prince of Wales on the Stranraer Road. A wilder flight of fancy glimpsed a Claughton tearing down fron Dalnaspidal with a 2-4-0 Jumbo as pilot. I did not know, or had forgotten that such locomotives would require a somewhat severe haircut and shave before they could have gone under some of our Scottish bridges."

- Legends of the Glasgow & South Western Railway in LMS days by David L. Smith

[authorrmbrown]

👋

Hi! I'm Rebecca, a 27-year-old fantasy writer from Scotland living the absolute dream because my debut novel came out on 27th June!!

Published by Ringwood Publishing, Song of the Stag is a love letter to Scotland's historic and folkloric past. From ancient kings and black-hearted patriots to bonnie princes and Jacobite songs, this book celebrates a complex, beautiful, and all too often tragic, land.

It also acts as an allegory for Scottish Independence, a subject I've been passionate about since 2014. The story is about the power of autonomy, be that of a person or a nation. Our main character, Cait, is a sheltered girl with an idyllic, conservative, rural upbringing, and her journey to personal freedom mirrors that of her nation.

I'm so excited to be able to share Cait's story with others! The novel can be purchased from Ringwood Publishing, Amazon (incl. Kindle format), or the Waterstones website. (For quickest delivery, order from Ringwood directly).

It's also on GoodReads, so please add to your want to read list, and leave a review if you read it!

[scotianostra]

Aye.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Then, of course, the telephone’s such a convenient thing; it just sits there and demands you call someone who doesn’t want to be called.

- Ray Bradbury, The Golden Apples of the Sun

It’s what we Scots call an ‘aye Phone’.

Photo: A remote telephone box in the Scottish Highlands, near Kintar.