Jo Zebedee writes science fiction and fantasy, sometimes in a Space Opera world, sometimes on the streets of Belfast.
Her debut novel, Abendau’s Heir, the first of a trilogy, is available from Tickety Boo Press and Amazon. A dark space opera, it follows the chosen one’s quest and asks what it would demand to be that person.
“Zebedee can stand toe-to-toe with the pros.”
“Doesn’t just have peaks and troughs but mountains and canyons.”
“A writer to watch.”
When not writing she grows things, and runs after not-so-small-children.
* Winner of the 2014 Story of the Year Award for A Crime of Intelligence *
Website : www.jozebedee.com
Another step and I’d have walked by without seeing it, but a quick stumble drew my eyes to the ground and, there, lodged in gravel, was a half-hidden penny. That day I needed luck to get a job before I lost the damn house, so I overcame my concern about … Continue reading
I don’t have magic. And I don’t smell either. Well, not smell in the sense of pee, or BO. In fact, if Mum didn’t insist all her phoney potions need a drop of jasmine or sandalwood, I wouldn’t smell of anything other than lavender shower gel. I’m reminding myself, so … Continue reading
At night, it’s almost silent. Just the rustling of the leaves, and the odd yip of a fox. The bats fly low, close to the water, mopping up moths, skimming the air. In the day, it’s different. Still quiet, still peaceful, but there are women in the pool of water. … Continue reading
Waddling. That’s one of the things no one told me. I bet they were lying about everything else, too – that it wouldn’t hurt and an epidural is a piece of cake. I followed Ken down the mall, and tried my damnedest not to look like a duck. And the … Continue reading
* Winner of the 2014 Story of the Year Award * Prosecutor General Eve Marshall – the meanest cross-examiner in the courts of New Scotland. Eyes that glint when she goes for the kill, a mouth that tightens at every lie, a manner that pulls jurors in and makes them … Continue reading
Shen-Kw’aim crouched in front of Jeta and Shan, and took a moment to embed their faces in his memory. He reached out to Jeta, brushing his daughter’s hair back from her eyes, and then put his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing just a little. “Remember,” he said, “this body … Continue reading