Meghan Coley
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my novel

“Don’t let them die,” I said to Muireach, eyes still fixed on Christos.
The god grabbed my arm faster than lightning. 
“No promises,” he hissed.
My stomach sank to my toes as he sent us hurtling into the sea.

The details of the fantasy novel described on this page are updated to reflect a completed project I am currently querying to agents and publishers. It's been a long process, but worthwhile in so many ways. Here's a brief little backstory and pitch for you:

The Song of The Sirens is a full-length fantasy novel targeted for the ‘New Adult’ genre audience. This is the project I created for the younger, eager version of myself who told anyone who would listen that she’d be a writer someday. And it’s the project I created for that still small voice inside of me that will never be satisfied with a life void of writing and literature. My fourth draft currently exists as 128k words, 451 pages. I’ve always been fascinated with the lore and structure of ancient myths and legends, namely Greek and Roman mythology. Studying ancient stories, specifically the ways in which their characters function, think, feel, and love, intrigues me to no end. It all really started with one fleeting thought that made me pause and muse, That could be a good idea for a short story. I was thinking about Sirens – Homer’s viciously beautiful creatures of song and death meant to lure Odysseus and his crew to slaughter. Some depictions of these creatures are birdlike, others the equivalent of present day mermaids. All include their insatiable desire to sing and kill men. These beings were at the forefront of my mind when I thought: What if someone was able to survive these creatures and live to tell the tale? A human being capable of besting some of the gods’ most-feared creations? That was a tale of irony and intrigue I wanted to tell. So I did.
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I wrote the piece as a short story told from the perspective of a young Siren singing for the first time, only to find that one man seems immune to her charms. I submitted the story to my university’s creative arts journal, saw it win third place in its category, experienced the rush of seeing my name in print, and then realized I wasn’t done telling this story. Or, more like there was more of this story that the encouragement of peers and professors allowed me to lean into, discover, and create. I’ve since written The Song of The Sirens, developed over a period of roughly two years. The novel stems from the original narrative of that short story that still remains the basis for the book’s first chapter. I’ve added more characters to join my originals. There’s a gruff merchant, older brother to my Siren survivor. There’s a young woman unable to remember who she is or where she came from after washing up on the shore of an unfamiliar fishing town. And there’s a significant narrative I’ve discovered hinged upon the concept of what it means to figure out who you are while also falling in love. I wrote most of the novel's first three drafts in my small, southern Californian hometown as well as a smaller apartment in the bustling city of Florence, Italy. Having the ocean just outside my window in San Diego has immensely added to the intriguing process that is writing about the sea. This novel is many things, but certainly an ode to the sea, the sublime, the noble quest for identity and love, and the power and life of the ocean.

This novel was my senior project as well as Honors project at Point Loma Nazarene University. I have my professors and fellow book-writing peers to thank for the completed existence of my manuscript. I had the chance to present this project in a condensed display at the annual Honors Scholars Conference on April 15, 2023. Though currently in the trenches of rewriting, querying, and searching for a literary agent, this book is becoming everything I've wanted it to be. I'm thoroughly excited to post updates here on this page.

The sound of it was the wind in my hair. The salt in the water reaching for my toes and legs. The deepest parts of the beautiful sea that I called home. It was all of these things and none of these things, both ancient and brand new. It grabbed every scrap of my attention, blew a soft breath of bliss across my neck, and consumed the air.

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