What might a post-collapse world look like?

My upcoming book, Until We Met Again, is a time travel love story set against the backdrop of a post-collapse society. I was knee-deep in learning about climate change when I wrote it, hoping to understand this thing we call the Anthropocene and what parameters we could be working with as time rolls on.

It wasn’t the most uplifting subject of study, but it did help with figuring out how to build a ‘post-collapse’ world, a society of people getting by while waiting for their time travel mission to succeed. This nerdy topic is utterly fascinating to me, since it combines the disciplines of innovation and maintenance to secure human survival and well-being – contrast this with today where, often to our own detriment, innovation tends to overshadow maintenance and care.

Anyway, I wanted to share some facets of my fictional futuristic universe, in case you find this topic interesting too 💜

Small camps that grow enough food to sustain their population

According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, cities “cover only 2-3% of land, [but] account for 75% of natural resource consumption, up to 80% of energy consumption, 70% of greenhouse gas emissions, and 50% of waste production.” In light of this, a futuristic city didn’t feel quite right for a post-collapse society.

The place my protagonist calls home is instead a village-sized camp, one large enough to shelter the descendants of disaster survivors, and small enough to sustain itself on what it can gather and produce in the safer areas of surrounding terrain – most of which is underground, protected from any bad air and harsh weather that blows their way 🌬️

Unlike the beautiful long-ago deserts of the hinterlands, this one palliatively sustains what life remains on it, below it. Our small subterranean populations—dispersed, desperate and dwindling—barely eke out survival on this dying world. The wind comes from the west this evening, and the crackle of home is a soft, sparse patter. For now, the air is safe to breathe.

Contact parties: people sharing resources

Scattered across the country, these camps need a way to stay in touch and share resources. Though not completely technologically challenged, the survivor society considers it too expensive to stay constantly connected the way we are today.

The main technology for staying in touch over distance is good old-fashioned foot travel, bearing heartfelt messages along with extra supplies and manpower 👣

We first met at the bar on the other side of the refectory. You arrived with a contact party from one of the protein supply camps along the southwest coast. You brought a letter from my sister. You asked for me by name.

Oh yes, they travel back in time

My protagonist is gloomy about her life at camp. To the point where I’m almost sorry to subject you to her despondence, despite all the hope around her. But of course, I’m looking at this from a real-world point of view, where people like you and me can’t just go back in time to change stuff.

But she can. In this fictional world, where people weave furnishings from mushroom bark and human hair, volunteers willingly go back in time to make tiny changes, enacting big and hopefully positive impacts.

I’m not convinced we’d actually do something like this if we had the technology for it. We’d lose a lot by returning to the past too often. I imagine we’d get stuck, become culturally stunted, with future generations deprived of the chance to dream their own dreams.

Then again, maybe we’ve already lived out a disastrous future, and the present we’re experiencing now is a result of someone having gone back to save us from living the worst possible version of our lives.

Until We Met Again: A Time Travel Novelette by JL Peridot

A time traveller absconds to the past in search of her lost love.

One word: my name. A call from Origin through the neural lace grafted to my brain and nerves, connecting me to another place in another time. A reminder of what I’m here to do.

I clutch a bottle cap; its sharp metal edges ground me in the present. It’s funny, don’t you think, to consider this moment the present, as if the past and future I came from aren’t supposed to exist? If you were here, I’d ask. You’d smile and kiss my forehead and say you love my nonsense questions.

But you’re not here. They want me to forget you ever were.

💖 Preorders open until 27th October 💖

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JL Peridot writes love letters to the future on devices from the past. Visit jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work or subscribe to Dot Club for a collection of her tiny stories.

The cancelled anthology

My time travel novelette is finally launching in 6 weeks after being on the back burner for over a year! This little novelette has been on quite the journey, now launching as a standalone, even though it wasn’t originally written this way.

The earliest complete version was crafted to sit at the end of specific romance pieces in an anthology, a time travel novelette that (with the consent of the other authors) would incorporate elements from the stories that come before. I’d never seen this done in multi-author anthologies, and thought it would be an interesting exploration of craft.

The actual writing had to be done in three parts. First, I had to write my story up to around the halfway/two-thirds mark to establish the concept and premise. Then I had to wait until all the other stories were written before I could work their elements into my draft and figure out how to get to the end. Finally, I had to provide my fellow anthology-mates with elements from my story to incorporate into the background of theirs to support the time travel concept of my protagonist visiting their settings in the past.

We made it all the way to collating the anthology, hiring an editor, and designing the cover. And then we discovered why you don’t see this kind of thing done in multi-author anthologies.

Days before we were due to prep for go, we encountered a situation where the only way forward for us was to cancel the anthology. It was oddly fitting for Until We Met Again, since the story itself deals with things that suddenly disappear from your life.

This is an abridged version of a post that first appeared on jlperidot.com. You can find the full article on my blog.

Until We Met Again – a time travel novelette

A time traveller absconds to the past in search of her lost love.

One word: my name. A call from Origin through the neural lace grafted to my brain and nerves, connecting me to another place in another time. A reminder of what I’m here to do.

I clutch a bottle cap; its sharp metal edges ground me in the present. It’s funny, don’t you think, to consider this moment the present, as if the past and future I came from aren’t supposed to exist? If you were here, I’d ask. You’d smile and kiss my forehead and say you love my nonsense questions.

But you’re not here. They want me to forget you ever were.

✨ Preorder now ✨

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JL Peridot writes love letters to the future on devices from the past. Visit jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work or subscribe to Dot Club for a collection of her tiny stories.

A sneak peek at my upcoming time travel novelette

Connecting me to Origin, the Lace works like any other organ—unthinkingly, like lungs breathing and the heart beating. It’s a sense tuned to an imperative beyond the five. At baseline, it’s a hum so deep inside my body, I barely catch it. It’s an ache in the feet I’ve gotten used to, grit in the nose that goes unnoticed until it triggers a sneeze. It’s the constant love for another person, even when attention diverts elsewhere.

At peak, the Lace is fire from within, lightning inside a tree. It consumes, overwhelms, contained within my brain and body. And for that brief moment, there is only Origin.

Back in the Annex, I climb into the tank while it fills with gel. Albert optimises the temperature and buoyancy for my body this morning. Slightly cool, a blessing on a day so warm we feel it even in this underground cavern. It’s already too hot to travel overland.

Waiting in the tepid gel, I search for Tarkan through the Lace. But all I get back is the flimsy sense of his fingers around my hips, and his mouth on a mole that might not have always been there. Origin yields some data at last, there but not there, not really pressed against my body, sucking at my skin. It hums through the Lace, vague and disconnected. It could be someone else’s gasp I hear, someone else’s fullness in my mouth, someone else’s tongue darting into tight spaces.

Qing.

Origin’s call delivers the countdown. Fifteen seconds to traversal, and details of the task ahead.

Until We Met Again – a time travel novelette

A time traveller absconds to the past in search of her lost love.

One word: my name. A call from Origin through the neural lace grafted to my brain and nerves, connecting me to another place in another time. A reminder of what I’m here to do.

I clutch a bottle cap; its sharp metal edges ground me in the present. It’s funny, don’t you think, to consider this moment the present, as if the past and future I came from aren’t supposed to exist? If you were here, I’d ask. You’d smile and kiss my forehead and say you love my nonsense questions.

But you’re not here. They want me to forget you ever were.

✨ Preorder now ✨

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JL Peridot writes love letters to the future on devices from the past. Visit jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work or subscribe to Dot Club for a collection of her tiny stories.

Summer time!

 

 

 

I don't know how you feel about longer days and warmer temperatures - I'm one who can't stay indoors. The warmer it gets, the more I'm outside enjoying time with my horse (even more!) and working in my garden. Right now the plants seem to be bursting with life. The poppies are blooming and attracting big bees, the aquilegia is standing tall in pink and dark purple, and the lavender has sprouted so many leaves that I can't wait for the wonderful scent it will soon give off. The first strawberries are ripe, and the blackberries and raspberries will be next. The whole garden welcomes me every day with new things to discover.

Spending so much time outdoors makes me less interested in writing. Partly because I'm not at home, and partly because when I get home I'm too tired to write. I jot down notes for scenes and ideas and hope for a rainy day when I can fit them into the story.

It's a rhythm I follow every year. Most of my books were written in the fall and winter to be published the following year. I'm not so sure about next year, but we'll see.

So let's take a look at one of my earlier books, written in 2012, The Prophecy Reincarnated.

Description

Worshipped, seduced, hunted—will the Prophecy find some peace again?

Ted’s life after the crash landing on Leroya turns out to be a fast rollercoaster ride with men and women lusting after his body, a ruler out for war, and an empress with different goals of her own. Will Ted find a way out and escape…if he still wants to?

Excerpt

Ted thought about the Empresses’s special abilities while dropping his clothes to wash himself. He didn’t turn when he heard someone enter and was surprised by the touch of warm hands on his hips and butt. “I didn’t know you were that eager.”
“I didn’t know that you were already waiting for me.”
Startled, Ted swiveled around. Nephren faced him with a smut grin.
“You! What are you doing here?”
Nephren gave a graceful shrug. “Share the hut with you.”
Ted wanted to stay angry, to throw Nephren out, but the touch of Nephren’s hands on his bare skin was pleasant, no, exciting, and it stopped all words. He felt warm and comfortable, touched in places deep inside him he hadn’t known existed. His breathing and heartbeat accelerated while Nephren’s palms explored Ted’s chest and inched lower, never losing eye contact. The knots of the chastity device opened like touched by magic and the leather fell away. Ted took a step backward and another. Nephren followed and held Ted by his hips, bowing forward. His tongue moved in sensuous circles across Ted’s chest and nipples.
Ted’s mouth was dry, his eyes closed. He wanted to get away and his mind knew he should, but his body enjoyed the arousal too much to oblige. For a moment, he felt ripped apart, as if his conscience had decided to leave his body to the greedy hands of a would-be lover, unable to control the flesh. The tingling sensation increased until his hair stood on end. He put his hands on Nephren’s upper arms.
The sudden rush of power felt as if finely crushed ice poured over his lower body. Gasping, he jerked away, but Nephren followed, keeping the link by holding fast to his hips. Ted shuddered, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. His mind knew he had fallen into the hands of a great seducer and his body enjoyed it immensely.
Nephren smiled, glancing at Ted’s expecting cock.
“Let it flow, Ted,” he whispered. “Give yourself to me.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before.” Even to him his voice sounded breathy and afraid. The longing in his loins rose to a new high. He craved to be touched.
Nephren’s smile was like a spark that would soon blossom to flame. “That’s what I wanted to tell you all the time.” His left hand massaged Ted’s cock and stopped his attempt to move away. “We are much more powerful than the Haldru. In so many ways. His reign will end. Nobody will stand against us. No one. The Haldru will dwindle and fall by the snap of our fingers.”
Ted frowned and bowed backward, fighting for control like a swimmer trying to climb out a slippery pool. “That doesn’t give you shit when it comes to reigning this country.”
“Oh, but it does. If you stay at my side, not his.”
Ted fought his body’s growing desire, but it felt like nailing fog to a wall. Breathing seemed hard work, taking a step even harder. In his mind, he already took Nephren down on the soft covers and loved him with his heart’s desire. It cost him a great effort to form words. “I’m not even interested in staying on this planet. Damn you, Nephren, why should I help you rebel against your ruler?”
The drowning emerald eyes gave their best to be persuasive. “Because he won’t let you go. I know that. But if you help me, I promise you that you’ll leave this planet as soon as my reign is established and strong enough to hold without you.”
“That’s a very uncertain measure of time.”
Nephren pressed his body against his, lowering his hands to caress Ted’s accessories with experienced movements. His arguments were very convincing and Ted struggled for a coherent thought. He wanted to close his eyes and give himself to the younger man, right now, without holding back. It would be so easy, so wonderful, so satisfying. It would be unlike anything else he had experienced and he longed for it with all parts of his body.
Nephren’s voice didn’t help. His words trickled into Ted’s mind, clouding it more and more. “You’re much better off with me than with the Haldru. I know he won’t let you go. I heard him tell his new confidant. He’s too afraid you might fall into the hands of his enemies. And that, my dear Ted, would be really bad.”
“You try to frighten me.”
“No, not frighten, Ted.” Nephren rubbed the other man’s cock with more vigor. “Just open your mind to other suggestions and you’ll explore whole new lands.”

***

Find all my books at annraina.com

Finding Names for Characters

 

Friends and readers ask me how I find names for the many characters in my books. There are several sources that are easily accessible. I look up favorite male names or favorite baby names on the Internet. Or I search the International Movie Database for appropriate names from different countries, sometimes mixing first and last names. The names have to have a sound to me, and - I admit - when I write them, they have to be easy to type on the keyboard (okay, joke...).

When I write science fiction stories, I try to invent new forms of names that do not follow the pattern of first and last names, or I create new combinations and meanings. For example, I had a character named Antoniasis Nivellanor Ekris because on his home planet the first name was for him, the second was derived from the house he belonged to, and the third was added by the family branch. When he flew to another world to participate in a race, the immigration guard looked him up and down and claimed that having so many letters in a name was vanity. He immediately told him that he couldn't run around using so many letters just for one person. So he shortened the name to Anek and ordered him to use the short form wherever he went in the city and not to brag about his origins. Anek then found out that all the inhabitants used abbreviations in their daily lives, for food, clothing, even for activities. This caused some problems for the proud heir of a great house, but he managed to understand the people. He never participated in the race, but he certainly learned a lesson for life.

In science fiction and fantasy novels, it is satisfying to find a group of similar names associated with a people. So the reader identifies that kind of name with the people. This means that other races have different types of names. For example, all male names end in "ac", while all female names end in "au". This makes for a good distinction and identification of who they belong to.

As I write this, I'm thinking about going back to science fiction stories, which used to be very satisfying to write because they offered so many possibilities. It felt like writing without limits. Maybe that's what I need right now...

 

I add an excerpt from my 2012 novel Living for the Act, which took a long time in the making and is, so far, the longest novel I’ve written.

What the book is about

On the verge of extinction after a long war, the women of Raskayen take the only chance to enlarge their population–they capture men from other worlds to use them in closed facilities. Restricted by rules, men are only for mating, not for love and the clan chiefs watch their groups of fertile males closely. But when it comes to love, not even leaders can predict the outcome for their society. And there are men who want more than spending their lives as objects of lust.

 

Excerpt

The room, lavishly furnished had a large, broad bed made of carved wood, lushly covered with light brown blankets. It was cool to his careful touch. There were couches, chairs, a small table, a cupboard, and even an oversized bathtub. A pleasant smell rose from the different small bowls filled with dried flowers. The light was dim, almost like sunset, and his eyes still saw every detail clearly.

Ferris smiled bashfully. The scientist had quite a taste.

Mysan entered, closed the door behind her, and exhaled with pure bliss. She smiled, so satisfied to have come here that she did not know what to say.

All thoughts, including his mind, reason, and twenty-five years of experience as a man, vanished from Ferris's brain. He almost forgot to breathe and could not help but gape at Mysan. He had judged her a beauty upon first sight, but in a nice nothing of underwear, all lace and black and half transparent like a thin cloud, she took his breath away and made his knees buckle.

“You look…surprised.” Her husky voice was too much.

Ferris took a quavering breath and slowly shook his head.

“You mean you're appalled at my ugliness.”

“Oh, but no, I…”

“Just kidding.” She got closer. She had looked forward to that moment and chosen her outfit deliberately to stun him. How wonderfully it worked! Mysan put her hands on his shoulders and stole a kiss from his still parted lips. He felt so warm and smooth under her fingers it was amazing.

“Am I allowed to touch you?” The number of hormones outmatched that of his red blood cells at the moment, and his bashed brains spun with images of having sex in thousand varieties. “They told us that we—”

“I know. However, allowed is what we want. And I allow you to touch me where you want.”

Given so much freedom suddenly, Ferris got the impression of walking a whole moon whereas they had allowed him only a small island before. Shivering with expectation, he ran his fingers along her shoulders and arms, her flat belly and ribcage. He looked in her eyes, as she got closer for another, more intimate kiss. He put his hands on her buttocks and kneaded her. It was an overwhelming stimulation. He panted. “I never thought it to be like this.”

“Me, too.” Mysan devoured him with her kisses, then slowly, deliberately, let her hands travel down his neck and spine. “Hum, just like I thought it would be.” She nipped his lower lip, smiling impishly. “You're so good to touch, Ferris.”

“I don't even know your real name.”

“You know all you need to know.” Mysan gave his balls a soft squeeze that left him gasping. “On the bed, man from Ryk.” She directed him backward until he sat.

“Why did you put these—”

“Sshh.” Mysan gently urged him to lie down, kissing, and fondling him. She pushed his arms up on the covers. A soft humming emerged from under the covers, and suddenly Ferris's arms and legs were drawn and the metal bracelets clanked. Ferris tried to pull his arms down, but could not.

“No! Don't tie me up! No!”

“Be calm, Ferris.” Mysan caressed his face with her hands. “I will do you no harm. Just relax.”

“But…why?”

“It's just a game.” She cut off his rebuke by placing a finger on his lips. “You'll love it.”

* * * *

4.5 out of 5 stars. Reviewer Top Pick!

“The author of “Living For The Act Part 1” has presented an elaborately depicted alternative society ruled by women which I found to be extremely compelling and enjoyable.”

 

The complete review can be found here:

http://nightowlreviews.com/nightowlromance/reviews/Review.aspx?daoid=5297