Welcome to my weekly Author Spotlight. I’ve asked a bunch of my author friends to answer a set of interview questions, and to share their latest work.
Today: Martha Gouws – “Where fantasy begins with a costume, a spell, and a drop of spit.”
Since childhood, I’ve had one foot in the world of fantasy. I dressed in costumes no one could recognize me in, danced with scarves late into the night, and climbed hills in search of strange fruit that might just be magical.
On quiet Sundays, while my parents napped, I sat beneath the mulberry tree and tried to lure tiny moles from their tunnels with a small stick—my own kind of secret spell.
Later, I studied theatre and opera makeup, where I learned how to disappear into characters. My specialty? Becoming an unrecognizable witch, complete with a hooked nose and wart, conjured from imagination and stage glue.
Fantasy has always been my true home. For me, storytelling isn’t just about writing. It’s about stepping through a doorway into another world and living there, if only for a while.
Thanks so much, Martha, for joining me!
J. Scott Coatsworth: If you could sit down with one other writer, living or dead, who would you choose, and what would you ask them?
Martha Gouws: George R. R. Martin. I would love to sit down with him and ask what went through his mind when he first began writing A Game of Thrones. Did he ever imagine that the story he was creating would become so enormous and so successful?
JSC: What do you do when you get writer’s block?
MG: I am a Virgo, so I stay with it until it disappears. I keep writing, staring and rewriting; sometimes what I produce is terrible at first. Eventually, something clicks, and the words start to flow again.
JSC: What do you do if you get a brilliant idea at a bad time?
MG: I write the keywords down on anything I can find—even if I have to use lipstick on a parking ticket!
JSC: Why did you choose to write in your particular field or genre? If you write more than one, how do you balance them?
MG: Fantasy, because to me, there really is another world out there if you know how to look for it. I used to live against a mountain range, and sometimes, when I sat staring at it, I could swear I saw an eye in the rock. That image stayed with me, and it became the inspiration for the second book, where the hero must travel through the “Valley of Worn-out Dragons.”
I guess I see fantasy everywhere in nature. Sometimes you just have to look a little longer.
JSC: What was the most valuable piece of advice you’ve had from an editor?
MG: Show … Don’t tell
JSC: What’s your writer cave like? Photos?
MG: My “writer cave” is rather simple. I have A4 pages stuck to the wall with Prestik, with feathers tucked between my pencils—feathers I pick up wherever I go. I like to believe they come from my muse, reminding me to keep going.
No fancy writer’s cave. Just paper, pencils, feathers, and a little bit of magic.
JSC: What book is currently on your bedside table?
MG: Children of Anguish and Anarchy
What fantasy realm would you choose to live in and why?
MG: One day, The Devil Wears Prada—and the next, Out of Africa. I suppose I’d like a little glamour and a little wild adventure. Why choose just one?
JSC: Would you rather be in a room full of snakes or a room full of spiders?
MG: Snakes—but only mole snakes, and only if I can hang from the roof!
JSC: What are you working on now, and what’s coming out next? Tell us about it!
MG: I’m working on Book 2, The Kwan People. It takes Egorh and his companions on a very strange and dangerous journey.
Zinnia’s orb strikes Egorh’s beloved. To save her, they must travel to the end of the world, where the wind begins to blow from Earth through an opening into the realm of the Kwan people.
The Kwans are a race of mixed elven and dwarven blood, and what happens when that enormous pressure reaches their world is something I had great fun imagining. Blood begins to seep from the stone, and somehow a heart forms.
But Egorh cannot simply take it. He has to prove to the Kwans that he is worthy of it as the son of Darkarh.
Of course, getting there is another matter entirely. They have to cross some very treacherous territories to reach the Kwans, and there are plenty of dangers waiting for them along the way.
I’m having a lot of fun with this book. The world gets stranger, the journey gets darker, and Egorh is discovering that being the Keeper is not going to be as simple as he might have hoped.
And now for Martha’s latest book: The Keeper’s Blood:
They called him chosen. They always do.
Egorh Bronbeck was never meant to wield the Orinium.
The ancient metal was forced into his blood after his brothers betrayed him, murdered him, and buried the truth beside his body.
But Egorh did not stay dead.
Now he walks between fractured worlds, hunted by powers older than kingdoms. The Orinium still lives inside him—unstable, dangerous, and tied to the secrets behind his fall.
Once, he was a prince. A rider. A Keeper of ancient power.
Now he wants answers.
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Excerpt
“Young Egorh, you are more than you seem. Today is only the first step down a path that will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine.”
“What are you saying?” Egorh hesitated, suddenly afraid he would sound childish and scared. Does his father know more than he ever admitted?
“Do you remember the story I shared—about the day you were born?”
Egorh crossed his legs as a flicker of memory surfaced. The room’s dim light stretched long, twisting shadows across the walls, and for a heartbeat, he felt as if the past itself leaned over his shoulder, watching.
“The old man?”
“Yes, a priest. He gave me that amulet and stressed how important it was that you must always wear it. Can I still trust you, son, to honor your promise never to remove it? It’s crucial—not just for you, but for all of us. Do you understand?”
Egorh rubbed his knuckle, aware of the anxiety nibbling deep down inside.
“I do. I will,” he said, although he didn’t understand—not all of it.
Egorh pulled out the chain with the strange oval disk from beneath his shirt and peered at it. His thumb brushed over the chiseled black stone—an eye with a vertical slit pupil. The iris shifted colors, sometimes purple, sometimes blood-red.
He couldn’t make sense of the symbols and numbers along the edge… or the whispers he thought he heard now and then.
“It’s difficult,” Egorh admitted.
Sir Matthew’s tone softened. “I never claimed it would be easy.”
Egorh slipped the amulet beneath his tunic and glanced away.
He had no idea that the promise he had just made would one day change everything.