This is the home page of Aliette de Bodard, writer of fantasy and science fiction (and the very occasional horror piece). Aliette has won a Nebula Award, a Locus Award, a BSFA Award, as well as Writers of the Future. She has also been nominated for the Hugo, Sturgeon, and Campbell Awards.
She lives in Paris, France, in a flat with more computers than she really needs, and uses her spare time to indulge in her love of mythology and history–as well as her love of cooking (the recipe page can be found here).
As a Franco-Vietnamese, Aliette has a strong interest in Ancient Vietnam and Ancient China, and will gladly use any excuse to shoehorn those into her short or long fiction.
Here is a random excerpt from Aliette’s free online fiction (click on quote to refresh):
Nanpeng watched her student Khean practise for the Great Dance in the courtyard, her lithe body swaying to the rhythm of the xylophones. Each of Khean's hand gestures naturally flowed into the next; her body bent smoothly, without visible stress. Khean's face under the golden headdress was, as proper for a dancer, expressionless, but no tiredness appeared either in her eyes or in her gestures.
Khean was good. Extraordinarily good, and fearless as well. That mattered very much for a dancer, especially one about to enter the Great Dance, the dance that would bring the monsoon rain but leave the dancer utterly paralysed. Nanpeng was proud of her student.
Serey, the High Priest of the Destroyer, stood to Nanpeng's side, his eyes watching every gesture Khean made.
"Only two days left before the Great Dance," he said. His almond eyes turned, briefly, to Nanpeng.
"Yes," Nanpeng said. "You sound worried."
Serey kept watching the courtyard, where the musicians played under the eyes of the numerous statues of the gods. No, Nanpeng realised with a pang of fear. Serey was watching Khean.
from "Dancing for the Monsoon", Abyss & Apex
In case you had any doubt, not much writing is happening–snakelet is a bit of a full time job… Desultorily planning my novel (I know how to fix my plot problem, I just don’t have the time to tackle the chapter–each time I sit down too write there’s a scream from the bedroom…).
Original Picture Credits
Portrait: Ines de Bodard