Ask the Author: Iwan Ross
Answered Questions (8)
Iwan Ross
My latest book is One for Sorrow, and one of its starting points was the old superstition surrounding magpies—particularly the rhyme that begins, “One for sorrow...”
I loved the idea of taking that familiar little piece of folklore and asking what a solitary magpie might mean in the Haunted Highlands.
From there came Daisy, an old secret at Serpent's Manor, a grandfather clock counting towards something nobody quite understands, and events reaching back to the Second World War.
The story grew into something about secrets within families and what happens when the truth has been buried for far too long.
And, naturally, Coby McTavish gets caught in the middle of it all.
I loved the idea of taking that familiar little piece of folklore and asking what a solitary magpie might mean in the Haunted Highlands.
From there came Daisy, an old secret at Serpent's Manor, a grandfather clock counting towards something nobody quite understands, and events reaching back to the Second World War.
The story grew into something about secrets within families and what happens when the truth has been buried for far too long.
And, naturally, Coby McTavish gets caught in the middle of it all.
Iwan Ross
Usually by asking, “What if?”
A place, an old building, a piece of history, an odd fact or even a single image can start it. Then I begin wondering what might have happened there—or what could have happened there if the world were just slightly stranger than we think it is.
I rarely know the entire story when I begin. Part of the pleasure of writing for me is discovering it along the way.
Sometimes my characters have rather different plans from mine, which is inconvenient considering whose name eventually goes on the cover.
A place, an old building, a piece of history, an odd fact or even a single image can start it. Then I begin wondering what might have happened there—or what could have happened there if the world were just slightly stranger than we think it is.
I rarely know the entire story when I begin. Part of the pleasure of writing for me is discovering it along the way.
Sometimes my characters have rather different plans from mine, which is inconvenient considering whose name eventually goes on the cover.
Iwan Ross
I'm currently writing The Silent Choir, the next story connected to The Highlands University of Ghostology.
I'm about 32,000 words into it at the moment, and Coby McTavish has once again found himself surrounded by ghosts, secrets and people who appear to know considerably more than they're willing to tell him.
There is also a rather peculiar riddle involving forty voices that has been keeping both Coby and his author occupied.
I'm having tremendous fun with it.
I'm about 32,000 words into it at the moment, and Coby McTavish has once again found himself surrounded by ghosts, secrets and people who appear to know considerably more than they're willing to tell him.
There is also a rather peculiar riddle involving forty voices that has been keeping both Coby and his author occupied.
I'm having tremendous fun with it.
Iwan Ross
Finish the book.
It's very easy to spend years worrying about whether an idea is good enough, whether your writing is good enough, what publishers might think, what readers might think, or whether anyone will ever buy it.
Finish it first.
Then make it better.
And remember that almost every writer occasionally wonders whether they know what they're doing. You don't have to eliminate that uncertainty before you continue. You just have to keep writing.
It's very easy to spend years worrying about whether an idea is good enough, whether your writing is good enough, what publishers might think, what readers might think, or whether anyone will ever buy it.
Finish it first.
Then make it better.
And remember that almost every writer occasionally wonders whether they know what they're doing. You don't have to eliminate that uncertainty before you continue. You just have to keep writing.
Iwan Ross
Meeting people who have lived inside a world that previously existed only in my head.
There is something quite extraordinary about a reader mentioning Coby, Daisy or another character as though they're people we both know. Suddenly this strange little world I created isn't entirely mine anymore.
I've been fortunate enough to receive messages from readers around the world, and some of them have stayed with me for a very long time.
That connection is probably the best part of all.
There is something quite extraordinary about a reader mentioning Coby, Daisy or another character as though they're people we both know. Suddenly this strange little world I created isn't entirely mine anymore.
I've been fortunate enough to receive messages from readers around the world, and some of them have stayed with me for a very long time.
That connection is probably the best part of all.
Iwan Ross
I usually keep writing.
I've learned that waiting for inspiration can be a dangerous business. Sometimes the words come easily and sometimes every sentence feels as though it has to be dragged onto the page by its ankles.
On those days, I give myself permission to write badly. A bad paragraph can be rewritten. An empty page can't.
Very often, somewhere in the process of simply carrying on, the story starts talking to me again.
I've learned that waiting for inspiration can be a dangerous business. Sometimes the words come easily and sometimes every sentence feels as though it has to be dragged onto the page by its ankles.
On those days, I give myself permission to write badly. A bad paragraph can be rewritten. An empty page can't.
Very often, somewhere in the process of simply carrying on, the story starts talking to me again.
Iwan Ross
Immersed in a world of infinite possibilities, my mind dances with the notion of venturing into a realm where imagination knows no bounds. Amongst the enchanting tapestry of fictional book worlds, one realm beckons to me with its irresistible allure - the land of Neverland. As I step foot onto its shores, the salty breeze carries whispers of adventure, filling my heart with an insatiable yearning for exploration.
In Neverland, I would soar through the cerulean skies alongside Peter Pan and his mischievous band of Lost Boys, my feet barely grazing the clouds. Together, we would embark on daring escapades, navigating the tangled foliage of the Neverland forest and discovering hidden treasures beneath the shimmering surface of Mermaid Lagoon.
I would partake in swashbuckling duels with Captain Hook, his villainous laughter echoing across the Jolly Roger. With a flick of my wrist, I would wield a sword in defense of the innocent, channeling the bravery and audacity that only a world untouched by time can inspire.
In the evenings, as the sun kisses the horizon, I would gather around a crackling fire with the enchanting inhabitants of Neverland. Listening to the mesmerizing tales spun by Tinker Bell and the wise old tree spirits, I would learn the secrets of the universe and the power of belief.
But above all, amidst the whimsy and enchantment, I would discover the true magic of Neverland lies not in the fantastical landscapes or extraordinary creatures, but in the unyielding bonds of friendship and the eternal flame of youth that burns within our hearts. For in this realm of endless dreams, I would find a place where I am forever young, forever free, and forever captivated by the wonders of an extraordinary world brought to life through the pages of a book.
In Neverland, I would soar through the cerulean skies alongside Peter Pan and his mischievous band of Lost Boys, my feet barely grazing the clouds. Together, we would embark on daring escapades, navigating the tangled foliage of the Neverland forest and discovering hidden treasures beneath the shimmering surface of Mermaid Lagoon.
I would partake in swashbuckling duels with Captain Hook, his villainous laughter echoing across the Jolly Roger. With a flick of my wrist, I would wield a sword in defense of the innocent, channeling the bravery and audacity that only a world untouched by time can inspire.
In the evenings, as the sun kisses the horizon, I would gather around a crackling fire with the enchanting inhabitants of Neverland. Listening to the mesmerizing tales spun by Tinker Bell and the wise old tree spirits, I would learn the secrets of the universe and the power of belief.
But above all, amidst the whimsy and enchantment, I would discover the true magic of Neverland lies not in the fantastical landscapes or extraordinary creatures, but in the unyielding bonds of friendship and the eternal flame of youth that burns within our hearts. For in this realm of endless dreams, I would find a place where I am forever young, forever free, and forever captivated by the wonders of an extraordinary world brought to life through the pages of a book.
Iwan Ross
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the dilapidated mansion that had haunted my dreams for years. Its crumbling facade whispered secrets, and I couldn't resist the pull any longer. Determined to uncover the truth, I stepped through the wrought-iron gates, my heart pounding in anticipation.
Inside, the air hung heavy with a sense of history. As I wandered through the decaying corridors, I stumbled upon a dusty library, its shelves sagging under the weight of forgotten knowledge. My fingers trailed along the spines until they landed on a weathered leather-bound journal.
Curiosity compelled me to delve into its pages, and what I discovered left me breathless. The journal belonged to a long-lost ancestor, a renowned explorer who had vanished under mysterious circumstances. His entries spoke of an expedition to a remote island, shrouded in myths and legends.
Driven by a mix of fascination and trepidation, I embarked on a journey to retrace his steps. The island, hidden in the heart of the Pacific, held untold wonders and dangers. As I delved deeper into its secrets, I unearthed a conspiracy that spanned centuries, threatening to reshape the world as we knew it.
With each step, I unraveled the web of intrigue, encountering ancient artifacts, enigmatic clues, and a clandestine society hell-bent on keeping the island's secrets buried forever. The line between reality and myth blurred, as I raced against time to piece together the puzzle before it consumed me.
But the island had its own agenda, and it wasn't willing to surrender its mysteries easily. In its darkest depths, I confronted my own fears and discovered the true extent of my ancestor's sacrifice. The island had chosen me, not just to uncover its secrets, but to become a guardian of its untold knowledge.
As the final pages of my own journal filled with ink, I realized that the mystery of my own life had become the plot for a book, an extraordinary tale of adventure, discovery, and the power of the human spirit. And as the world marveled at the enigma I had unraveled, I knew that the greatest mystery was still out there, waiting to be explored.
Inside, the air hung heavy with a sense of history. As I wandered through the decaying corridors, I stumbled upon a dusty library, its shelves sagging under the weight of forgotten knowledge. My fingers trailed along the spines until they landed on a weathered leather-bound journal.
Curiosity compelled me to delve into its pages, and what I discovered left me breathless. The journal belonged to a long-lost ancestor, a renowned explorer who had vanished under mysterious circumstances. His entries spoke of an expedition to a remote island, shrouded in myths and legends.
Driven by a mix of fascination and trepidation, I embarked on a journey to retrace his steps. The island, hidden in the heart of the Pacific, held untold wonders and dangers. As I delved deeper into its secrets, I unearthed a conspiracy that spanned centuries, threatening to reshape the world as we knew it.
With each step, I unraveled the web of intrigue, encountering ancient artifacts, enigmatic clues, and a clandestine society hell-bent on keeping the island's secrets buried forever. The line between reality and myth blurred, as I raced against time to piece together the puzzle before it consumed me.
But the island had its own agenda, and it wasn't willing to surrender its mysteries easily. In its darkest depths, I confronted my own fears and discovered the true extent of my ancestor's sacrifice. The island had chosen me, not just to uncover its secrets, but to become a guardian of its untold knowledge.
As the final pages of my own journal filled with ink, I realized that the mystery of my own life had become the plot for a book, an extraordinary tale of adventure, discovery, and the power of the human spirit. And as the world marveled at the enigma I had unraveled, I knew that the greatest mystery was still out there, waiting to be explored.
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