Riv Rains, Steampunk YA writer's signature

Meet the Author

Steampunk | YA | Dark Fantasy | Poet

Close up of a stack of pretty writing journals, lit by stray sunlight.The clockwork heart behind Steampunk and Young Adult author Riv Rains, is many conflicting things.

Heya, I’m an Australian mumma, mechanic, wife, lover, and creator—but in the cracks—I’m an author growing her craft! Embrace the cliché!

I began this glorious mess a long time ago. (I’m not that old!) I wrote because I ran out of material to read on a remote family property in the far North of South Australia. There’s only so many books a library will let you have, no matter how cunning your tactics.

It’s my parent’s fault.

Mum started it, sitting on the floor between our beds, letting dancing minds such as Edith Blyton introduce us to everything beyond our real and perceived boundaries. Dad handed me my penchant for Steampunk when he taught me how to repair and create out of almost anything.

Life was pulling windmill bores, straining fences, and welding chassis. All of this has filtered down into a love of rust and dust.

It was lonely at times, a great way to learn how to be quiet and still, yet made me hungry for people’s stories, none of which I would find living there. We were geographically isolated to the degree that my sister and I were home schooled for the primary years, then thankfully catapulted into the capital for the seniors years. We landed in a cloud of chaos at a boarding college, hours and hours from home. Talk about coming of age stories!

Black and White school year book photo of author Riv RainsI write many genres now, but YA (Young Adult Literature) will always be a passion. The path to that began early. See, there’s a strange, independent heart ache that comes from being sent from home at twelve. It certainly isn’t negative primarily—quite the opposite—responsibility level-up! However it shapes you along the way. You don’t fight with parents when you stay up late, you get caught by your geography teacher, slam a door in her face, get grounded, then sulk in her class the next day. Your parents? They get the tearful phone call, commiserating over the heartless gargoyle who did this to you. “I know dear, I know!”

Teenagers are passionate creatures, pulsing, quivering dreams on legs—although that whimsical description is hindsight talking.

When an establishment is filled to bursting with teenagers all trying to elbow their way to adulthood, you see some things! At the time, it’s a challenge to live with, day in, day out. Options include becoming a strange proxy councellor, listening to all of their growing pains rub together like flint on steel, or hiding rum in your dorm room roof cavity to thwart authority. I opted for both. Just don’t tell my house mother.

Stories and incidents from those years still filter through to my world and words.

It shapes you. It sticks around as empathy, and conflict resolution over thermostat controls. It’s the way a character curls over her knees and sobs when her heart breaks, what it feels like to walk in on self harm, or how you teach your own kids how to treat stains at age eight, because dammit, that’s easier started early! It isn’t the worst, nor best, but it certainly leaves shapes.

Riv Rains' fingers holding her daughter's baby fingers. Photo by Riv Rains

For me, those shapes fit writing fantasy escapism, with real relationships and heartache at its core.

I thrive on taking relatable fledgling lives and journeying with them, characters emerging charred, blackened and full of light. I wish I knew where they ghosted before they came to me, but like all teens, there’s no time for pointless questions, they just catch my hand and run. I anchor them if I can, turn them about and try, desperately try, to find the hearts they need. Your heart, your little sister’s heart, your neighbor’s, your dad’s! YA reaches hands across the world. Which is perfect, because that’s where these guys want to go.

I’ll be here, loving on my family, carving my little piece of rural river life into the shape of a writer’s, and working like mad so that one day you all get to see my crazy made up worlds and meet them. My writer’s wish for you is to love, or sometimes hate them like I do. That they become a part of your family too. What better validation than your hand upon theirs?

River Murray purple and orange sunset. Silhouette of trees and boat prow. Photo by Riv Rains

If nothing else, simply enjoy.

What else can an author ask? ♡

Riv Rains, Steampunk YA author's signature
 
The clockwork heart behind Steampunk, Young Adult writer Riv Rains, is many conflicting things.

Heya, I’m an Australian mumma, mechanic, wife, lover, and creator—but in the cracks—I’m a writer growing  her craft! Embrace the cliché!

I began this glorious mess a long time ago. (I’m not that old!) I wrote because I ran out of material to read on a remote family property in the far North of South Australia. There’s only so many books a library will let you have, no matter how cunning your tactics.

It’s my parent’s fault.

Mum started it, sitting on the floor between our beds, letting dancing minds such as Edith Blyton introduce us to everything beyond our real and perceived boundaries. Dad handed me my penchant for Steampunk when he taught me how to repair and create out of almost anything.

Life was pulling windmill bores, straining fences, and welding chassis. All of this has filtered down into a love of rust and dust.

It was lonely at times, a great way to learn how to be quiet and still, yet made me hungry for people’s stories, none of which I would find living there. We were geographically isolated to the degree that my sister and I were home schooled for the primary years, then thankfully catapulted into the capital for the seniors years. We landed in a cloud of chaos at a boarding college hours and hours from home. Talk about coming of age stories!

Black and White school year book photo of author Riv Rains

I write many genres now, but YA (Young Adult Literature) will always be a passion. The path to that began early. See, there’s a strange, independent heart ache that comes from being sent from home at twelve. It certainly isn’t negative primarily—quite the opposite—responsibility level-up! However it shapes you along the way. You don’t fight with parents when you stay up late, you get caught by your geography teacher, slam a door in her face, get grounded, then sulk in her class the next day. Your parents? They get the tearful phone call, commiserating over the heartless gargoyle who did this to you. “I know dear, I know!”

Teenagers are passionate creatures, pulsing, quivering dreams on legs—although that whimsical description is hindsight talking.

When an establishment is filled to bursting with teenagers all trying to elbow their way to adulthood, you see some things! At the time, it’s a challenge to live with, day in, day out. Options include becoming a strange proxy councellor, listening to all of their growing pains rub together like flint on steel, or hiding rum in your dorm room roof cavity to thwart authority. I opted for both. Just don’t tell my house mother.

Stories and incidents from those years still filter through to my world and words.

It shapes you. It sticks around as empathy, and conflict resolution over thermostat controls. It’s the way a character curls over her knees and sobs when her heart breaks, what it feels like to walk in on self harm, or how you teach your own kids how to treat stains at age eight, because dammit, that’s easier started early! It isn’t the worst, nor best, but it certainly leaves shapes.

Riv Rains' fingers holding her daughter's baby fingers. Photo by Riv Rains

For me, those shapes fit writing fantasy escapism, with real relationships and heartache at its core.

I thrive on taking relatable fledgling lives and journeying with them, characters emerging charred, blackened and full of light. I wish I knew where they ghosted before they came to me, but like all teens, there’s no time for pointless questions, they just catch my hand and run. I anchor them if I can, turn them about and try, desperately try, to find the hearts they need. Your heart, your little sister’s heart, your neighbor’s, your dad’s! YA reaches hands across the world. Which is perfect, because that’s where these guys want to go.

I’ll be here, loving on my family, carving my little piece of rural river life into the shape of a writer’s, and working like mad so that one day you all get to see my crazy made up worlds and meet them. My writer’s wish for you is to love, or sometimes hate them like I do. That they become a part of your family too. What better validation than your hand upon theirs?

River Murray purple and orange sunset. Silhouette of trees and boat prow. Photo by Riv Rains

If nothing else, simply enjoy.

What else can a writer ask? ♡

Riv Rains, Steampunk YA author's signature