Welcome to My Imagination

Rebecca Lang

Please kick off your shoes and make yourself at home. I'll have the dragon heat you up a kettle of tea and the pixies bring you a plate of cookies.

I am a fantasy writer, a high school substitute, a student, a Californian, an infrequent speaker of Japanese, and a lover of fairy tales. I hope we'll get better acquainted as you explore my website.

The Changelings is now available on Amazon

On This Site

My website contains information about me and my novel, The Changelings, an epic fantasy that follows five fantasy-creatures-turned-humans as they follow a mysterious prophecy to the origin of their birth.

Click on "The Changelings" button on the heading for a summary, buying information, and an author interview. The bar underneath "The Changelings" contains samples of the prologue and the first three chapters, as well as maps from the book.

On "Free to Read," you'll find my short stories, published or unpublished, and links to my fanfiction account and blogs I wrote in Japan. For updates on my current life, click on the "Blog" button.

"Writing Tips" contains advice and lessons distilled from my 10-plus years writing experience. Please enjoy. I hope you find something to entertain, inspire, and inform you.

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Recent News

"Captured in Color" was recently published on Daily Science Fiction. You can read it for free in its archives.

My final draft of Three Floating Coffins has been submitted to Beta readers. I'm currently shopping it for agents. If you're interested in reading it, let me know.

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Writing Excuses
a poem by
Rebecca Lang

The faeries hid my pens away
And so I cannot write today.

Pixies all my pencils stole,
Hoarded them like they were gold.

And if, by chance, I found a spare
It'd do me little good I fear.

The only sharpener I own
Was smashed by dwarves upon a stone.

Should I then my finger cut
And write this poem in my own blood?

But it were useless, too, I think.
My notebook's eaten by a Sphinx,

Who left me but the metal wire.
And all the elf-lads did conspire

To tear my loose leaf, one by one,
Until their wretched work was done.

And while I flapped around the room
To save my paper from its doom,

The shine of my computer screen
Attracted the hobgoblins' greed.

They took it, plus my best keyboard.
They dragged my mouse out by its chord.

Harpies in my printer nest.
A dragon has burned down my desk.

Burdened with these pests and blights
How can an author hope to write?

Brownies stomp upon my head.
I think I'll read a book instead.