I am a dominant woman.

I don’t play at it, I don’t simply fantasise about it. I just simply am.

I was the vampyre queene while the other little girls were playing at being faerie princesses. Though I could perform the many arias of Briar Rose to perfection, it was Maleficent’s litany to Prince Phillip on the hopelessness of ‘true love conquering all’ and the delivery of her own power-play that captured my heart. Needless to say, I was always a little bit dark. The many personae in my head as a child, (which led me to believe I was mad before I realised I was actually just a writer) ranged from powerful, dominant women to the seasoned villainness and the experienced seductress. No ingenues, naive faire maidens, or delicate flowers for me. The only princess whom I admired was Leia; I often found myself fantasising about being the one seductress mastermind capable of making even Bond succumb and surrender. (Ridiculously hot kinky sex to follow — and of course, he’d live to fight another day. But his body, his heart, his soul — those would be mine.) But Fleming never made my fantasy come true. Naturally, I never quite gave it up. I kept on writing, kept on dreaming, kept on creating tales of mystery, espionage, suspense, murder, even science-fiction and fantasy — with daring, empowered women and the strong, devoted men who were helplessly under their spell, though powerful in their own right. (more…)