Susan Murray
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pulpthorn.bsky.social
Susan Murray
@pulpthorn.bsky.social
1.2K followers 640 following 13K posts
Writer of Fantasy & SF. Northerner. Girly swot. She/her. Ooh, squirrel...
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pulpthorn.bsky.social
And things are stirring in the garden. Cat formerly known as next door’s helped me check out the snowdrops.
Closeup of witch hazel in full flower. Clump of snowdrops partially occluded by chonky ginger cat. Catkins on corkscrew hazel. Closeup of red tinted unfurling leaves on an old rose that really ought to know better.
January 28, 2026 at 4:52 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Been out for healthy stomp, because the day has been like this.
Blue sky with half moon visible above some light clouds over rough upland grazing, band of trees in middle distance, Pennines with melting snow on skyline. View past a clump of trees over moorland towards eastern Lakeland fells, blue sky above with gathering white clouds. Tumbledown stone cairn set in moorland in foreground, distorted pyramidal shape echoed by twisted clouds in blue sky.
January 28, 2026 at 4:42 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Off to former parental abode via the scenic route. Sky is moody as.
View over farmland towards Howgillls, with bright sunlight escaping between many clouds.
January 24, 2026 at 12:11 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Today's #BookQW word is EARTH.

In this snippet from The Waterborne Blade, Marten's convinced exiled Queen Alwenna that the freemerchant elders can help her.
“How will we find them?” How did freemerchants find one another? They could be anywhere across the Peninsula. “At Scarrow’s Deep.” “Where’s that?” “It’s the place we freemerchants call home, sister.” “But you’re not allowed to hold land.” “You’ll not find Scarrow’s Deep on any map of the Peninsular Kingdoms.” With a tight smile, Marten picked up the bundle containing the dagger and stowed it inside his tunic. Alwenna fought the urge to snatch it from him. “And we don’t hold Scarrow’s Deep by any royal decree. We scratched it from the bowels of the earth with our bare hands, in a remote corner where no king holds sway.” Cover of The Waterborne Blade by Susan Murray. A woman clad in an ornate gown is moving past the viewer, a long dagger held in her blood-spattered right hand. Cover art by Paul Young.
January 21, 2026 at 3:24 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Totally normal communication from parish council…

(To be fair, the village is in a flood plain.)
Part of leaflet delivered by parish council: Household Emergency Plan Preparing for Emergencies - Are You Ready? Parish Council no longer have a Community Emergency Plan; it was not fit for purpose due to the age and number of current Parish Councillors. Families and households can better cope with emergencies by preparing in advance and working together as a team. This leaflet covers three basic steps to being prepared for emergencies: HAVE A PLAN HAVE A GRAB BAG STAY INFORMED Have a Plan Make a plan with all members of your household & review annually. Getting prepared - Checklist • Find out what local risks may affect you (e.g. flooding). Register for alerts and fit protective measures, if available. • Know where and how to safely turn off utilities:
January 21, 2026 at 11:12 AM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Ripley has offered to share her Hula Hoop, if it will help. x
Floofy black cat sitting in a cosy cat bed and looking a bit nonplussed to find a single Hula Hoop balanced on the edge.
January 19, 2026 at 10:07 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
*SNORT*

(also the 2002 date is wrong - should be 2008...)
The comments pane of a word processor packed with duplicate green comment bubble with lines all running together as they lead to the same piece of text, like some demented Spyrograph pattern.
January 16, 2026 at 2:15 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
And how it's going:

In this extract from Waterborne 3 (split to fit alt text) , Alwenna's off on her travels again, but this time she's choosing the destination. Just as soon as she figures out where that is.

Mild spoiler for previous books. Work in progress, so usual caveats apply.

#Bookqw ROOM
Alwenna had done this thing all wrong. She was certain of it. She'd accomplish nothing by plodding over the desert on horseback. She could turn back now and be back at Scarrow's Deep before the close of the next day. She could explain the dread that had driven her from her warm bed. By daylight, that dread seemed so unsubstantial. Last night it had seemed to be closing in around her, circling the room where she lay next to Weaver, lingering over the cot where her baby slept. She should have woken Weaver. Told him. He'd have said it was nothing but a bad dream. And she wouldn't be out here in the middle of nowhere without the first idea of what she hoped to— Her horse planted its feet and raised its head. Startled, she scanned the surrounding area. Nothing moved. Ahead were a few scrubby plants and a cluster of boulders over to the left of the faint track they followed. Not enough cover to hide a predator. Unless the predator was a very small one. Her horse snorted and took a step towards the boulders, scenting the air. Then another step. Water. Had to be. That was why there were scrubby plants there. She slid down from the saddle and paused, listening to the ground beneath her feet. Not listening as such, but that was the closest word she had for what her senses were doing. Yes. _There_. She drew her reins over her horse's head and led it towards the boulders. The desert grass spiked and snagged against her leggings. Her horse paused to snatch mouthfuls. It was poor enough fare for the animal. She should have left it behind at Scarrow's Deep, but it was company, if a bit opinionated at times. This was a fool's errand, heading into the mountains so late in the year. The horse pulled ahead as they neared the boulders. She halted it and ordered it to stand. It obeyed, but eyed the ground ahead eagerly. The spring emerged from a crevice between the boulders, forming a small pool containing perhaps half a bucketful of water. A shallow depression in the ground showed where the spring had overflowed recently. Alwenna crouched down and cupped the water in her hands, raising it to her lips. It was sharp and cold, and spoke of the first snow on mountain peaks. The cold bit into the bones of her fingers, like a knife blade across her knuckles.
January 14, 2026 at 2:58 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Today's #BookQW word is ROOM.

How it started:

In this extract from The Waterborne Blade, the King's Man has returned from an important scouting mission and Alwenna's been called to hear his news.
The odour of damp wool mingled with horse sweat hit Alwenna the moment she stepped into the king’s chamber. A sodden travelling cloak had been thrown onto the settle, water dripping onto the flagstones beneath it. It was a commoner’s garment, yet its owner stood at the king’s side. The pair of them stooped over the table, engrossed in discussion of a map. None of Tresilian’s appointed advisors were present. Alwenna stepped further into the room and the servant withdrew, closing the door with a clatter. The newcomer turned her way and bowed. “My lady.” The King’s Man, Weaver. She’d have recognised him the sooner if he’d been wearing the king’s livery as normal. His hair was wet and tangled while his face was unshaven. At least he’d paused long enough to leave his horse outside, if not the smell of it. “My lord husband. Weaver. Good evening.” Goddess forfend a lady should speak what was on her mind. Tresilian raised his head then, with no hint of his usual smile. “There is bad news?” As if there could be any other reason Weaver had trailed mud into the king’s presence.
January 14, 2026 at 2:58 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Today’s healthy stomp was more of a squelch, but the winter beck’s flowing again. And someone’s been setting up new footpath markers.
Small back, winding its way over upland landscape, under a mostly clear sky. Two waymarkers at the side of a track over upland. One old and weathered with two discs bearing red and blue arrows, marked ‘Yorkshire Dales’ and ‘Public Bridleway’. The red disc is marked ‘1’, the blue disc ‘aw’ - presumably a reference to an Alfred Wainwright walking route, and not a term of endearment. The other is brand new with a pointy top, also marked with ‘aw’ plus a stylised acorn, and has a shallow routered circle which looks ready for a disc with an arrow to be inserted.
January 13, 2026 at 4:43 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
More garden. Like Tiny Tim, the heuchera that vanished last year IS NOT DEAD. The periwinkle, flowering non-stop since last autumn, no longer recognises the laws of God or Man. The firethorn is keeping its powder dry. The delicate pointy conifer is quietly pleased that it wore the Christmas lights.
Cluster of reddish-purplish blush and green heuchera leaves emerging from moss. Pale violet periwinkle with variegated leaves, looking remarkably perky against a mossy wall. Firethorn with healthy green leaves but no sign of berries in a north facing corner between two stone walls. Lush green, conical conifer with soft needles (pinea something or other - no idea really) seen against drystone walls and an overcast sky.
January 13, 2026 at 12:11 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Today, the witch hazel is go. The winter jasmine has been going since before Christmas and is, frankly, ready for some R&R. The snowdrops are READY. The sage has, through no fault of its own, Seen Some Shit.
Closeup of slender, vivid yellow flowers on witch hazel. Green stems of flowering jasmine hanging over the front of a galvanised metal trough, bearing bedraggled yellow flowers. Bunch of snowdrops growing through moss, in full bud. Droopy sage, plentiful evergreen leaves a bit chewed and mottled.
January 13, 2026 at 11:44 AM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Aurora app lured me outside. Can report that the night is dark and full of trees.

(Also cold and cloudy.)
Overcast sky, sycamore tree(s) silhouetted on skyline against lighter area. Night sky seen between several skeletal trees, hint of light beneath the cloud cover. The trees look alert, as if they’re hanging about waiting for… something. Cloudy night sky with yellowish light beneath clouds on eastern horizon. Twigs of spiky old ash tree on right edge of image. Clumps of more trees along the near horizon, with a raggedly old oak silhouetted just off-centre.
January 10, 2026 at 10:41 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Spot the plane.
Twisted bands of grey clouds against a blue sky at the foot of the image, with thinner white clouds with an open weave effect overhead. Somewhere in there is a tiny blurry thing that is a light aircraft.
January 10, 2026 at 4:33 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Anyone getting Eye of Horus vibes from these clouds?
Upland landscape with s track leading towards the horizon, sun to the right visible between two curved bands of cloud. Same scene with sun just off centre between two curved bands of cloud, looking like a huge eye in the sky.
January 10, 2026 at 4:23 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Heh. Turned it round, because…
Shutters with the cardboard box the other way round, with the apparent words KITCHEN - ASS WORKTOP PROTECTOR visible.
January 8, 2026 at 10:11 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
For a long time the shutters on the living room have been missing the centre panel, so we’ve been using a handsome cardboard box in its place. Spousal unit has fabricated a centre panel which, hinges willing, might still fit the gap when I’ve finished painting it…
A pair of old shutters that don’t meet in the middle over a mullioned window with original spade-end hinges, the gap filled by a cardboard box. Centre panel after first coat of paint, wedged in place with a door stop, an old laundry basket handle, and some pipe insulation. The careful observer will note that none of the notionally horizontal parts are, in fact, horizontal, in keeping with most of the rest of the house.
January 8, 2026 at 9:25 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Need a word for when you’ve carefully filled and sanded a knothole on the back of a piece of softwood, and turn it over to find the knot protruding on the other, (good) side.
Closeup of a dark knot protruding from the surface of a piece of pine.
January 8, 2026 at 4:59 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Ice. Fragile.
Closeup of thin ice in a frozen puddle on a grassy track. There is a dark hole in the ice, showing how fragile it is.
January 8, 2026 at 4:06 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Went for a healthy stomp, touched grass (it was mostly frozen). Skies still big, but grey.
View over moorland to banks of white clouds masking Lakeland summits. Light grey sky above.
January 8, 2026 at 4:02 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Would like to live in less 'interesting' times, thks.
Screenshot of trending topics: US Military Strategy, Greenland Policy (both terms dressing up recent provocations as something less aggressive as if they were socially acceptable stances), RHOSLC, Ukraine Support, Music Challenge, John Harbaugh.
January 7, 2026 at 3:22 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
First two ebooks available here: angryrobotbooks.com/books/the-wa...
and here: angryrobotbooks.com/books/waterb...

Or from Kobo: www.kobo.com/gb/en/series...

Still reluctant to tempt fate, but aiming to bring out the third book under my own steam in 2026.
Cover of The Waterborne Blade by Susan Murray. A woman clad in an ornate gown is moving past the viewer, a long dagger held in her blood-spattered right hand. Cover art by Paul Young. Cover of Waterborne Exile by Susan Murray. A woman dressed in a blood-spattered white gown moves past the viewer, holding a bowl of blood before her in both hands. A bloodstained dagger is tucked in her belt. Cover art by Paul Young.
January 7, 2026 at 2:37 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Today's #BookQW word is 'happen'. Here's a quickie from Waterborne 3.

The outcast Col finally seems ready to share what he knows about the dagger in Alwenna's possession. And she might be ready to take ownership of certain events in her past...

WIP, so usual caveats apply.
'Are you telling me the smith who fashioned this had evil intent?' 'Probably not, my lady. But a misguided confidence in the work he was carrying out. And perhaps he wrought spells for his own protection, should his masters ever turn against him. It is impossible to say what drives a man who resorts to the darkest magic. Perhaps the power he wielded was enough to corrupt him over time, so he was a little less himself with every blade he crafted.' 'And if this was his final masterpiece…' A life for every blade. Half a dozen lives taken to serve a questionable end. 'Take the blade in your hand.' She looked up at Col sharply. He already knew what would happen. 'Satisfy my curiosity, he said. 'Perhaps I will understand better what we are dealing with.' 'We? Do you finally align yourself with me and mine?' 'With or against, my lady. I will know better when I see the power of the blade at work.' 'You might go to Highkell and see it there in the ruins.'
January 7, 2026 at 2:37 PM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Dragged my sorry self out of bed to discover our middle distance has developed a fault overnight.
View over a drystone wall of trees at the far side of the field partially hidden by low cloud/fog. In the foreground there is heavy frost along the edge of the field kept in shadow by the wall.
January 6, 2026 at 11:54 AM
pulpthorn.bsky.social
Made deal with myself this year: if there’s nothing grim falling from the sky I’ll get out for a healthy stomp.
Single low-flying jet promptly charged overhead but there was no falling. Slender black-looking thing – assuming it was one of ours.

It continues sunny but snowless in the frozen north.
Moorland in lower half of pic - grazing livestock levels reduced, so lots of tussocky grass - vivid blue sky in upper half, tiny blurry dot that is a rapidly receding jet, highlighted by a red arrow (no, not the capitalised kind). Moorland landscape with limestone pavement in foreground, a band of trees round enclosed farmland, Pennines on the horizon with a band of white clouds above and then a fuckton of blue sky above that.
January 5, 2026 at 3:44 PM