Books like The Ecstasy of Cornelia Day

Monsters intrigue me. I’ve always enjoyed the weird and obscure – the creatures who are recognizably not human. Being a queer, autistic person, I’ve often felt as if I didn’t understand the world…or the world didn’t understand me. Reading and writing about monsters sheds a new light on the parts of myself that I was taught are undesirable. By conventional standards, the monsters in these stories are horrifying, yet they find people who love them and their monstrosity. Monsters get their happy endings – and I can get mine, too.

Monsters intrigue me. I’ve always enjoyed the weird and obscure – the creatures who are recognizably not human. Being a queer, autistic person, I’ve often felt as if I didn’t understand the world…or the world didn’t understand me. Reading and writing about monsters sheds a new light on the parts of myself that I was taught are undesirable. By conventional standards, the monsters in these stories are horrifying, yet they find people who love them and their monstrosity. Monsters get their happy endings – and I can get mine, too.

Monsters intrigue me. I’ve always enjoyed the weird and obscure – the creatures who are recognizably not human. Being a queer, autistic person, I’ve often felt as if I didn’t understand the world…or the world didn’t understand me. Reading and writing about monsters sheds a new light on the parts of myself that I was taught are undesirable. By conventional standards, the monsters in these stories are horrifying, yet they find people who love them and their monstrosity. Monsters get their happy endings – and I can get mine, too.

Monsters intrigue me. I’ve always enjoyed the weird and obscure – the creatures who are recognizably not human. Being a queer, autistic person, I’ve often felt as if I didn’t understand the world…or the world didn’t understand me. Reading and writing about monsters sheds a new light on the parts of myself that I was taught are undesirable. By conventional standards, the monsters in these stories are horrifying, yet they find people who love them and their monstrosity. Monsters get their happy endings – and I can get mine, too.

Thomas Perry is a 74 year old writer who is working on his 30th novel. His books have won a number of honors and awards, including the Edgar from the Mystery Writers of America for The Butcher's Boy, the Gumshoe for Pursuit, the Barry for The Informant, and again for Eddie's Boy. Metzger's Dog was voted by NPR's listeners one of "100 Killer Thrillers--Best Thrillers Ever." He has always believed that a writer's most important job is learning to be a better writer.

UK-born CY Croc started her career in the health industry, but later changed professions after obtaining a postgraduate degree in teaching. It was while teaching she discovered her dream profession. An author was invited to the school to showcase her latest book. Inspired, CY wrote over 30 books in the next 3 years in contemporary, sci-fi, and paranormal romance. She loves to include positive subliminal messages in her stories about body image, prejudice, and love from a higher realm and always practices inclusion in her writing. Her main characters practice autonomy and come from all races. CY believes everyone should experience love, and that's why some of her protagonists are not of this world.

Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.

Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.

I got on the trail of awakening, without knowing it, at the age of 14, when I started reading the early Zen poets of 8th century China. They inspired me to start sleeping rough in the countryside where I grew up, around Oxford, UK, and to write scraps of poetry myself, which I traded with an aspiring poet friend. Then, despite a savage skin condition that dogged me from infancy, I had a spontaneous awakening at the age of 19, followed soon after by a minor but miserable nervous breakdown, which led to a slow path of healing through meditation and therapy while gradually developing a career as a poet and author.

Music has been a passion ever since I joined my mother’s hippie jam sessions as a toddler. During my 17 years as a professional cellist-in-training, I tried Yo-Yo Ma’s Stradivarius and played Pachelbel’s Canon at a gazillion weddings. I even made it to Carnegie Hall, performing in a university orchestra on the gilded stage. But injuries, both physical and psychological, put an end to my classical music career. Trying to forget my cello years, I entered journalism, eventually becoming a staff health reporter at Canada’s national newspaper, The Globe and Mail. Later, when a percussion workshop triggered a dramatic shift in my perspective, I answered the call to explore music in a more expansive way.