Why, of all things, does one start writing sci-fi? There are probably fewer answers to this question than authors—some just enjoy doing it. In my case, after a lifelong fascination with science, sci-fi, historical fiction, spy, fantasy and vampire novels, one day the creatures of my imagination took a life of their own. It all started with the drawing of a tree on a cereal box and glimpses of unconventional, edgy stories, populated by mavericks that lived dangerous, unconventional lives.

However, even for mavericks, there are ‘rules’. Though a warrior might have moments of tenderness, he or she must chop some heads off, win some battles, rescue someone or something, and lead commandos or armies somewhere to victory against all odds, often reluctantly. Let a warrior, instead, be too fragile for too long, or too forgiving, or too analytic, and the traditional model roof often caves in. Spies break hearts, and vaults, and jawbones. They shoot everyone, wear tuxedos or gala dresses, and drive luxury sport cars on sidewalks as if they were in an F1-circuit, never running over prams or pigeons. Vampires live in castles or mansions, neatly tucked in coffins, run away from garlic, and crosses, and holy water, require an R.S.V.P. to enter homes—and, once invited, stick their fangs in as many necks or breasts or arms as they can.

The stereotypical muscular hero is a man who falls in love with the smart belle and saves her from the evil soulless beast. And so on.

Reverse some roles there, and eyebrows are raised and lowered so fast the eyes below them seem ready to take flight.

What happens if, instead, vampires that travel through space-time can become spies and make croissants? Or, if a soldier repeatedly decorated for his bravery, can be badass but also fall in love with another decorated soldier? What happens when the bad are really good—not just good at being bad—if one bothers to observe them through a wider lens or in a broader context? What happens when a new type of hybrid, intersectional, genre is born and the writer, who went exploring that Terra Incognita, now relishes this voyage of discovery, crafting along the way vessels where those unusual creatures should dwell, and evolve, and build, and thrive—or struggle, and decay, and die; vessels that, for better or worse, should survive the writer—and, hopefully, provide those who follow their woven meanders, and entanglements, and knots, with much solace, and controversy, and laughter, and tears, and hopefully, inspiration, evasion and wonder?

If such adventuresome universe appeals to you, please allow me to warmly welcome you into my world, so we can answer that question together!