Deadmedia shares monthly peeks behind the scenes, writing updates, and creativity thoughts from SF/F author Samantha Garner. Learn more here.

Hi everyone,

I’ve had sod/turf roofs on the brain for a few years. It’s funny the things that pique your interest when doing novel research. When writing this newsletter, a tweaked They Might Be Giants song lyric popped into my head and it felt fitting for the title/subject line. FAR better than any of the sod-related puns I was going to make instead, wouldn’t you agree?

Fantasy novel inspo: medieval Nordic houses

On our way to Keflavik Airport for the journey home from Iceland last month, Jason and I stopped at Viking World. I wrote about it a little in the last Deadmedia, but what I didn’t write about was the little “Settlement Zoo” area outside. In the summer months small animals like lambs and kids (the goat kind; I’m not being a jerk to human kids) live there. But this time it was empty, and anyway I was there for the cluster of buildings with turf roofs.

I’m not sure what these buildings—and the one in the header image—are actually for. Shelter for the animals? Replicas of houses? Restored houses like Stekkjarkot, the fisherman’s cottage nearby? Whatever their purpose, I was drawn to them.

Twist the Branch and its sequel Corrode the Song are historically-inspired fantasy novels, with part of their culture based on Finland between the years ~850-1000. When creating the novels’ houses I researched traditional Finnish houses in that period: made of wood, no chimney, no glass in the windows. In that time Finnish houses typically used birch bark as the waterproof roof membrane, with logs or turf on top.

In my research I found photos of reconstructed houses from Finland (here’s an example), and I was charmed by their grassy roofs. But I’ve gotta be honest—the Icelandic turf houses, peeking out from snug coverings of earth, have a bit of an ethereally hobbity quality about them. I found myself envisioning the Icelandic versions of these houses while writing, even though the Finnish kind are what my characters live in. Don’t tell my ancestors, but I wish I could have used the Icelandic version. Unfortunately I don’t think an surveillance-happy occupying nation like the novels’ Leitir Empire would let their citizens build cozy turf blankets around their houses, eh?

While the houses at Viking World were far too modern for the vague time period my novels are inspired by (and there are arguably “better” representations around Iceland), I’m still happy I got to see their cheerful roofs in person. And maybe a trip to L’Anse aux Meadows (below) is in my future? It’ll be cheaper than going all the way to Iceland, after all.

PS, I made a zine:

For my spring Undone Rituals Mixtape on Patreon, I made a zine! That sentence got an exclamation mark because I haven’t made a zine since I was 24. That’s over 20 years ago! It was really interesting making a zine in 2025 in two main ways: 1) No longer having an office job where I could sneak photocopier time in before everyone else arrived; and 2) Resisting the urge to lay everything out in InDesign and simply print it. There’s nothing, like, morally wrong with printing out a digitally-laid-out zine of course, but I craved the muscle memory of assembling master flats, of cutting and pasting and not worrying about everything looking perfect.

It was a smaller zine than I usually make and relearning the specific quirks of photocopying was … let’s say an experience, not helped by brilliantly deciding to do it at the library while it was packed with boisterous students. I got so overwhelmed at one point that I set my folder of zine flats on what I didn’t realize was a feeder tray and almost jammed the machine entirely. I’m happy I did it though - the zine, not almost breaking the copier. It was nice to simply observe and record without having to worry about the way I might be perceived by online strangers. It’s a wholly internal sort of creation that I found I missed.

It was also a lot of fun to create the flats. I ignored the perfectionism that tried to assert itself. I recalled the punk ethos at the heart of zinemaking: Just fucking paste it down, worry about it later. It felt life-affirming to get back to my roots in this way. I might make another one, who knows?

I want to hear from you!

Thanks for reading Deadmedia today. I’d love to hear what you thought—leave me a comment or hit reply to send me an email!

Talk soon,
-Sg.

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