marcherwitch: online home of writer Holly March

My mam has always said that turning 40 was her hardest milestone, and I am 38 this year. I’m struggling again, friends, and I was trying not to spill it all over bluesky when I remembered…

When you’re living with Chronic Clinical Depression, everytime you talk about it, you normalise it. You make selfish people realise “just get on with it!” isn’t actually helpful advice – insert shocked cat dot gif – and fellow sufferers know they’re not alone, not failures.

Confession.

I DO care what people think of my writing. And more, how their perception reflects onto my indie publisher LoveAfricaPress . Who wants to buy a book written by a white woman about Black people, brown-skinned people, indigenous or Colonial Arabic. Now, LAP signed me with the understanding that I was a stopgap to encourage more historical fiction, that an #OwnVoices author would take over.

They have gone over and beyond, giving me these beautiful covers, promoting the books…

And if I stop here, the planned arc that was to take place, showing the paradigms of the city, how much evil privileged people would ignore through to how many sacrifices the downtrodden would make to try and change the status quo… I had six books ready to go, starting with civil servant Sabbah and ending with Chukwunwue, the antagonist in the first story, freedom fighter and gang leader…

If I stop here… that arc never happens. The parabola is incomplete.

And I just have the first two stories, the ones exemplifying the similarities with today’s society, showing the similarities which exist between bonded slavery in medieval Arabic colonised North Afica and being working class today in any cou try without nationalised healthcare. That was the point.

It is a point of pride with me that my good reviews almost all came from Black people and people with African names. My bad reviews as far as mental health has allowed me to look, tended to be from White americans.

Which is why, hand on heart, Malik’s cover in HER GOLDEN TOUCH, the way he hid rescuing and relocating mistreated and abused slaves…

Was that he was a slave trader.

That pettiness is on me. I dialled it up to 11.

But that’s historical fiction.

It’s what has stopped me writing regency to this point. You cannot ignore the paradigm of your characters. People have wilfully ignored any people but white anglicans in regency books. That is changing. Finally.

To write 6thC Hj Morocco without slavery would be like writing a regency book about an Earl who doesn’t have any servants or staff. Like a Chaebol romance where the heir does all the secretarial work, works in the factory etc etc

It might be nice to write just the uber rich. Heck, I have a proviso for all HEAs!

If after the last line of the book the washing machine broke down, would it push the couple into debt and thus arguing and bitter silence and possible break up?

I get it. Life is hard, romances are escapism. That’s why regency authors fill London with strangely not military or royal dukes! For a fantasy of never having to work again. For security both in the bank and in the bedroom. Trust and stability.

I’m prostelatising… is that the word?

Preaching.

Anyway my point…

I think, unless the sales suddenly skyrocket, I will stop writing my HEART OF GOLD series. I am costing my publisher and I do not have the confidence to keep having a book released amid a new wave of the world getting worse. It is destroying what little self-esteem I have.

So for now I will play with my Fairytail Romance series. After Cinderella retelling ASHWOLF I am continuing with SNOWBEAR

It is a retelling of the Snow Queen and the first lore drop about mirrors being evil, begins with a deliberate killing, and is a love letter to fanfiction and stories I told as a child.

In addition, I want to hammer out my erotica through history stories that I started last year and get those on literotica so I can get some sodding feedback.

And I have two regency era ideas. The first is partially started (romances centring characters who survived the Terror living in London as repatriated brits and emigré(e)s, except… they’re too violent and too sexy to do very well on the querying front), and a paranormal investigators thing that… gods, it’s just so generic…

Apparently I come in two flavours: unsellable and Basic.

If you made it this far, I’m astounded. I can barely stand to be in the same room as me at the moment, so sticking around to read all this? Probably not, eh?

Anyway. I am trying to go forwards, despite the urge to retreat!

Anyway, if you do want more Morocco stories, you’ll need to comment in droves here and get your friends to buy the books. You can get both on the hellsite for a fiver!