Rebecca Among the Stars

As I have stepped away from the next volume of Whakataukī Among the Stars for a little while, I thought I’d spend some time talking about the writing itself. Not the polished bit. Not the tidy version where everything sounds planned, sensible, and faintly impressive. The real bit. The messy, magical, occasionally coffee-fueled process behind the stories. An ideas rarely arrive politely. They do not knock on the door, wipe their feet, and say, “Good morning, I am the plot for your next story.” That would be helpful, so naturally they refuse to do it. More often, they creep up while I am doing something else. Making coffee. Washing dishes. Trying to sleep. Walking. Especially walking. For me, long walks are not just exercise, though I suppose they do technically involve moving the legs and therefore count. They are where the mind loosens its stays. Thoughts that have been sitting stiffly in rows begin to wander about, bump into each other, start arguments, and occasional...

I’m going to pause the introductions to the next volume of Whakataukī Among the Stars for a little while and talk instead about my writing process. How do I find the ideas? What keeps me awake at night? Why do certain stories grab me by the collar and refuse to let go until I’ve written them down? I started writing seriously when my job came to an end while I was in my sixties. There. I said it. Not thirty-three, when people expect you to be reinventing yourself with frightening enthusiasm and a suspicious amount of coffee. Not twenty-three, when you’re meant to be full of grand plans and questionable shoes. In my sixties. Old enough to know better, young enough to ignore that fact entirely. When my working life stopped, the first feeling was not freedom, exactly. People talk about retirement or job endings as if someone hands you a sunhat, a deckchair, and a permanent sense of peace. In reality, it can feel more like being dropped into the middle of a very quiet room and re...

Before I step properly into the next stretch of stars, I wanted to pause and look back at Volume III. This book surprised me. I thought I knew what I was writing when I began it, but stories are awkward little creatures. They have a habit of turning round halfway through and telling you what they are really about. Volume III did that to me more than once. It has a steadier pulse than I expected. It is tender, hopeful, sometimes funny, and more pointed than it first appears. It does not charge at the reader waving plot in the air like a warning flag. It sits down properly, puts the kettle on, and then asks uncomfortable questions with very calm eyes. I rather love it for that. This volume made me think a lot about accountability, consequence, community, memory, and the stubborn work of staying human. Not the grand, shiny, heroic version of being human either. The ordinary version. The difficult version. The one that has to choose kindness when tired, courage when frightened, and ...

This is the last Story Spotlight from Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III , which feels fitting for a story so deeply concerned with what survives when so much else has been broken. If you’ve enjoyed these glimpses into the world of the book and would like to read the full stories — or sink into the others waiting between the covers — you can find Whakataukī Among the Stars on my Amazon page . Buy on Amazon Every story in Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III begins with an old truth and then asks what happens when human beings, being human beings, meet it under pressure. “The House That Refused Applause” begins inside a storm-rated shelter while the sky prepares its next act of violence. Set in the ruins of a future Aotearoa where storms have become something closer to a planetary will than mere weather, the story follows a former orbital salvager keeping watch while his family sleeps through the long night of a brutal superstorm. Inside the shelter called Kōhatu-...

Let me introduce you to another story from the book Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III.  Every story in Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III begins with an old truth and then asks what happens when human beings, being human beings, meet it under pressure. “Dust Never Forgets Who Was Invited” begins on an orbital marae gone thin with neglect, where the dust has had far too much time to settle and far too many reasons to stay. Set aboard Te Whāriki o Rangi, a once-vital meeting place in orbit above an ocean world, the story follows Hine Aoraki and Kaito Rangi, two exhausted caretakers trying to keep alive a station built for welcome. When an alien vessel arrives seeking shelter, knowledge, and the right to offer gifts, the station is forced to confront what it has become — and what it still might be. Some places do not die when they are abandoned. They wait to see whether anyone remembers how to open the door. That is the heart of this story: not orbital politic...

Let me introduce you to the first story in my next book  Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III: Treasure Has Tiny Feet. Every story in Whakataukī Among the Stars, Volume III begins with an old truth and then asks what happens when human beings, being human beings, meet it under pressure. “ Treasure Has Tiny Feet ” begins in a frontier colony where a child slips beyond the perimeter and into first contact. Set in a young off-world settlement tucked into a valley of basalt pillars, salt flats, glass-forests, and wary alien life, the story follows four-year-old Niko, who wanders outside the colony, befriends a glowdog, and stumbles upon an ancient alien structure that responds not to force, authority, or expertise, but to gentleness. Sometimes the first person to understand a new world is the one everyone else is trying to protect from it. That is the heart of this story: not alien mystery or colonial peril, but the preciousness of life, the moral seriousness of care, and the star...