The Woman Who Brought Love to Death – Kathryn Yelinek

 Gudrun plunked herself down in the grass, her back against the side of the sod house. The guests were feasting, and the funeral ale was flowing, so she could indulge her grief a moment. Almighty gods, had Ketill been dead a week already? In the distance, the last of the smoke from his funeral pyre drifted over the horse fields. Beyond that, clear on the horizon, lay the green hill of Graenheth. Souls went …

An additional question for Kathryn Yelinek

Q: If your writing style were a bird, what type of bird would it be and why?

A: Good grief, you realize you’re asking this question of a total bird nerd, right? I mean, some of my writing friends say that a story isn’t one of my mine unless it has a bird in it. I share my house with parakeets, I feed the outside birds, and I have been a lifelong birdwatcher. So birds means a lot to me.

Let me think carefully about this. I write slowly, so my writing style would not be a fast hummingbird or falcon. It also wouldn’t be something like a bluebird, which can have multiple broods per year. I also don’t think I have a terribly flashy style, so it wouldn’t be a peacock or bird of paradise. I also don’t write well in crowds or coffee shops or anything like that. I’m definitely a loner writer. So my writing style wouldn’t be anything that congregates in huge flocks—no flamingos or starlings or budgerigars. I also write best at home, in familiar settings, so no birds that fly long distances like terns or albatrosses.

After all of this, I think my writing style is a kakapo. What is a kakapo, you ask? A rare flightless parrot from New Zealand. They breed very slowly, with the parrots taking several years to reach maturity, and some years they don’t breed at all. They have muted green feathers and aren’t flashy, but have a fluffy cuteness that I find absolutely endearing. They are also loners and don’t congregate in flocks like many other parrots. Because they don’t fly, they stick close to home. All of these things resonate for my writing style. In addition, because they are so rare, they have a dedicated team of extraordinary scientists and volunteers who do tremendous conservation work to save the species. While I don’t need conservationists for my writing, I am lucky enough to have family and writing friends who support my work, and I am very grateful to them. [On a side note, if you are so moved to learn more about kakapos, visit the Kakapo Conservation page:]

Kathryn Yelinek’s story “The Woman Who Brought Love to Death
in Metaphorosis Friday, 19 June 2020.
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Further about Kathryn Yelinek

Kathryn Yelinek works as a librarian in Pennsylvania. In addition to the required hobbies of reading and writing, she enjoys bird watching, star-gazing, gardening, and going to see Broadway musicals. She and her husband share their home with two adorable parakeets, whom they are actively striving to make into the most spoiled birds in the Western Hemisphere. The birds don’t seem to mind. Her works have appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Deep Magic, Metaphorosis, Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies.

Kathryn Yelinek’s story “The Woman Who Brought Love to Death
in Metaphorosis Friday, 19 June 2020.
Subscribe now for e-mail updates!

June 2020

June 2020

Beautifully written speculative fiction from Metaphorosis magazine.

All the stories from the month, plus author biographies, interviews, and story origins.

Table of Contents

  • The Record Collector — Nathaniel Williams
  • Zsezzyn, Who Is Not a God — Jennifer Shelby
  • The Woman Who Brought Love to Death — Kathryn Yelinek
  • Time and Grace — Joseph Halden

Cover art by Max Pitchkites.

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It came from Kathryn Yelinek (yet again)

Kathryn Yelinek’s story “Cinders and Snow” was published in Metaphorosis on Friday, 28 December 2018. “Cinders and Snow” was inspired by events in the life of someone I know, but the details are not mine to share. Suffice it to say I’ve known several people who would never describe themselves as princes (of any gender), but who are the gentlest, most caring people I know–certainly princes (of any gender) in all the right ways. These …

Cinders and Snow – Kathryn Yelinek

The prince was old before his time. Candlelight from ballroom chandeliers softened the gray in his hair. He whirled yet another eligible young lady through a minuet, his movements practiced and sure, but he limped, round-shouldered. He was not yet twenty-five. “The hall looks so elegant,” the lady simpered between steps. “Like a winter wonderland.” “My mother’s idea.” Roderick smiled because he should. “She knew a ball would melt the midwinter cold.” The queen mother …