Year of Fire Dragons: An American Woman's Story of Coming of Age in Hong Kong by Shannon Young

Title: Year of Fire Dragons: An American Woman's Story of Coming of Age in Hong Kong
Author: Shannon Young
Publication: Blacksmith Books (15 Jun. 2015)  
Summary: In 2010, bookish 22-year-old Shannon follows her Eurasian boyfriend to Hong Kong, eager to forge a new love story in his hometown. But when work sends him to London a month later, Shannon embarks on a wide-eyed newcomer's journey through Hong Kong – alone.

She teaches in a local school as the only foreigner, explores Asia with other young expats and discovers family history in Hong Kong, all while trying to hold on to her thwarted romance. The city enchants her, forcing her to question her plans. Soon, she must make a choice between her new life and the love that first brought her to Asia.

What I Think

Living in Hong Kong I have a particular interest in reading books set in this little pocket of Asia and it's an extra special treat to read a book that reminds me what a vibrant and exciting city this is. Hong Kong is multifaceted and each morning Shannon Young leaves "behind one world and enter[s] an entirely different, more Chinese one." 

"The time was right for an international long distance relationship," writes Young about her relationship with Ben, managing to stay in daily contact via Skype, phone, email and instant messaging. This is in stark contrast to the annual letters Young's grandmother sent back to the U.S. She had also moved abroad to teach, met her husband, got married and started a family. In the 1950s they were stationed in Hong Kong. Including fragments of these letters evokes not only the feeling of a different world, but draws comparisons with the physical changes in Hong Kong. 

Living abroad isn't always easy. "Friendship is fast, cheap, and interchangeable in the expat world." Young's writing is full of such insights as she delves further into the Chinese culture, language, her teaching position as the only Native English Teacher and whether she wants to stay in Hong Kong without Ben, or move to yet another foreign place to be with him.  

Shannon Young's writing is as full of life as this city and I would highly recommend this to anyone interested in travel, living abroad, teaching or a good old-fashioned love story. 

About the Author

Shannon Young is an American writer currently living in Hong Kong. She is the author of a coming of age travel memoir called Year of Fire Dragons (Blacksmith Books) and a Kindle Single on student debt. She has edited an anthology of creative non-fiction by expat women in Asia and written e-books including a mini travel memoir, The Olympics Beat, and a novella, The Art of Escalator Jumping.

A graduate of Colgate University in New York, Shannon's writing has appeared in the Hong Kong Women in Publishing Society's anthology, on numerous websites, and on an iPhone travel app. She writes a blog called A Kindle in Hong Kong and likes to spy on other people's books on the train.


You can follow Shannon's work and join her email list at the following sites:

Website: shannonyoungwriter.com
Blog: akindleinhongkong.blogspot.com
Twitter: @ShannonYoungHK

Friday Flash Fiction - Turning Tables

Turning Tables

‘Boy, how the tables have turned,’ Bas said, and took a long draught from his dark ale.
Martijn stubbed out his cigarette in an already overflowing ashtray on the worn oak table between them. 
Bas put his glass down with a clunk. ‘It’s almost funny.’ 
‘It’s certainly not funny,’ Martijn said, raising his voice a little above normal.  
‘I said almost.’ 
‘Whatever.’ 
‘In the beginning she couldn’t get enough of you, sent you ten messages a day and you had to rein her in, afraid your wife would find out.’ 
Martijn lit another cigarette. 
‘Now, six months later you’re crying into your beer because she won’t see you anymore.’ 
‘I love her.’ 
‘Pff! Love! You don’t love her. You’re obsessed with her. With her youth, her beauty, her charisma. All the things you don’t have any more with your wife of fifteen years. You’re infatuated. You can’t maintain that level of involvement.’ 
Martijn blew out smoke through his nose. ‘It was never like this with Marie.’ 
‘Of course not. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But that could be a lie. You want to justify this somehow, but you can’t.’
‘You don’t know anything.’ 
I know she’ll never come back to you and even if she does, she won’t stay with you.’ 
‘Thanks for pointing that out again.’ 
‘I did say it from the beginning. No young, attractive, intelligent woman in her early twenties stays with a guy over forty for very long. Unless he’s filthy rich, and you’re not.’ 
‘What am I going to do?’ Martijn put his head in his hands. ‘I’ve lost everything now. Marie has kicked me out, won’t let me see the kids-’
‘Well, she can’t do that. You’ll have to get a lawyer.’ 
‘I know, I know. How did this happen?’
‘You couldn’t keep your dick in your trousers.’  


©2014 Laura Besley

Flash Fiction Diary  

Snippets is now available!  
Amazon UK/Amazon US

Many thanks to those of you who have already downloaded and read my collection of flash fiction. Also my thanks go out to those of you who have helped me to promote it by posting on facebook, twitter, sending emails or word of mouth. It's all much appreciated! 

I've had two 5star reviews, which have obviously made me extremely happy. 

"This is a wonderful collection of flash fiction and short prose. What I liked most was the variance of the storylines and their tone because I think they really complimented each other well. Some were humourous, others romantic, some dark and some topical (and relevant)."  Michael Diack

"If you like flash fiction, you're going to love Laura Besley's collection of stories in Snippets. If you don't like flash fiction or if you haven't tried it before, read Laura's book. She just may convert you." - Clint Morey

Friday Flash Fiction - Giraffes Can't Mate with Zebras

Giraffes Can’t Mate with Zebras

He’ll have to go. There’s nothing wrong with him per se, it’s just.

At primary school my group of friends and I gave each other animal nicknames. Mine
was the easy choice: giraffe, because I’m so tall. Always have been and although 
puberty gave the others a chance to catch up, no-­one ever did. 

Recently I’ve started dating someone shorter than me. He doesn’t seem to mind, but 
I think I do. I walk in the gutter when he’s on the pavement; stand on the lower step 
of the escalator, to be harshly reminded of the difference when we get to the bottom.
There’s the age ­old “there’s no height difference when you’re lying down” (nudge, 
nudge, wink, wink), but unlike ancient Romans who spent the majority of their time 
lazing on divans, I’m not sure that’s enough.  

‘Colin, we need to talk.’ 

Laura Besley

Flash Fiction Diary  

This piece is semi-autobiographical. I am very tall, one of my nicknames at school was giraffe and I did one try dating a man shorter than me. It didn't work out, but not for those reasons! 

I've decided to take part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) again this year. The aim is to write 50,000 words towards a novel, or in my case towards a collection of short stories, within the month of November. That'll be kicking off next Friday. Hopefully I'll still have time to also keep the blog going, but I'm not sure I should make any promises...

Friday Flash Fiction - week 42

Words

He wasn’t tall, only a little taller than me, with short grey hair. His eyes were as blue as the Indian Ocean. I hadn’t seen that colour since I left Bangalore to go to boarding school when I was eight. 

“Morning Ma’am,” he said, in a heavy Texan accent. 
“Morning.” 
“I’ve moved in next door,” he said, pointing at the three-bedroom house to the left of ours, “so I thought I’d come and say hello.” He stuck out his hand. “Frank.” 
“Nice to meet you Frank,” I said, shaking his hand. “Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bee.” 
“If you don’t mind, Ma’am, I’ll stick with Beatrice as it’s such a beautiful name.” 

And that was it. 

As a self-employed fiction writer Frank was at home a lot and we met most mornings for coffee. We talked about travelling the world, modern art and living outside of your country of birth; all the things my husband knew nothing about and had no interest in. 

***

Two years after meeting Frank, almost to the day, I saw removal men entering his house. There was a knock on the back door and he came in just like it was any other day. “Just thought I’d drop by,” he said. “Before heading off.” 
“But I’ve made coffee.” 
He took two steps towards me. “Beatrice.” 
I stepped back towards the counter. It was as if something was clawing at the back of my throat. “Where are you going?” I asked. But I already knew the answer. 
“Back to the U.S.” 
“Why…why didn’t you tell me before?” 
He reached out to touch my arm. “I couldn’t.” 
“Will you be back?” I looked up and met his eye. 
He held my gaze. “No.” 
A gentle wave of seasickness rose up inside and threatened to capsize me. “I think you should go now.” 
“Beatrice?” 
“Please go. Have a safe journey.” 
“Beatrice?” 
“Go! Get out!” 

He left, closing the back door gently behind him and I was left fighting the rocking of the waves. A sea of tears welled up and spilled out.  

Hours later I got up off the kitchen floor, made a fresh pot of coffee and splashed cold water onto my face. I noticed a gift-wrapped package next to the sink and tore off the silver and pink paper. 

“His book. Of course,” I muttered. There was a photo of him on the back of the book. I supposed it would be the only one I would ever have of him. I opened the book and my heart stopped. 

I dedicate this book to Beatrice, a woman too beautiful – inside and out – to be known      merely as Bee. With all my love, Frank. 

I ran from the kitchen to his house, but it was locked and empty.   

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This is an older piece, from 14th September 2012 to be precise, and to be honest I can't any longer remember what inspired me to write it. Currently I'm watching Jewel in the Crown and the mention of the Indian Ocean seems a good reason to feature this story this week. 

Flash Fortnightly #11 is based on a true, yet tragic, story. Click here for My Wedding Day. 

Of Gods and Mobsters is the latest anthology from the Hong Kong Writers Circle, edited by SCC Overton. 
Classical gods and heroes. Men and women of myth, legend and folklore. Characters from the greatest 19th and 20th century novels. All of them relocated, reimagined and retold in this collection of short stories and poetry. 
I have a story in here and wrote a modern day version of Aladdin. 

imprint 12 (the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society) was launched on Friday 15th March and as mentioned before, I was asked to read my piece of flash fiction, Fractious Heat. I was incredibly nervous, but as I had practised a few times with my lovely husband, I think it went well. I got a good reaction from the crowd, which was a real boost! 
As always, it's an absolute thrill to see my work in print. As well as the piece of flash fiction, I also submitted a piece of non-fiction, Aspects of Home.  





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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 41

A Modern Arrangement

“When Lance announced he had a mistress and she was pregnant, I was faced with two choices,” Vivian said. “Leave or stay. It really was as simple as that.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, I stayed. We came to an arrangement. He lived with me Monday to Friday, to keep up the pretence, and at the weekends he went to her and the baby.” 
Sylvia quietly stirred half a spoonful of Demerara sugar into her skinny cappuccino.   
“I know, I know. You’re thinking: how could I do it.” 
“To be honest, yes.” 
“Well, it’s not like I really loved him much in the first place.” 
“No?”
“No, not really. We rarely had sex. Never laughed much together. In all honesty, I think I was in love with the idea of being in love, without actually having a clue what it was all about.” 
Sylvia nodded. “I’ve heard that before.” 
“Lance and I started dating at Harvard and when we graduated it was more or less expected that we’d marry. So we did.”
Sylvia replaced the coffee cup into its saucer. “Gosh.” 
“I suppose he fell in love with her. In a way I can’t blame him. She was beautiful.” 
“Really?”
“Oh yes, no denying it. I kept my head in the sand for quite a while, but found a picture of her once.”  
“Have you ever met her?” 
Vivian shook her head. “God, no! We didn’t discuss her. Ever. Or the baby. That is, until recently, when he told me he was leaving me.” 
“Oh Vivian.” Sylvia reached out and took her hand. 
“And not for her, but for another Asian woman. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This conversation is based on a true story, with a lot of imaginary details thrown in. 

Flash Fortnightly #11 is a piece about love, but a different kind of love. Click here for Dreams. 

imprint 12 (the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society) was launched on Friday 15th March and as mentioned before, I was asked to read my piece of flash fiction, Fractious Heat. I was incredibly nervous, but as I had practised a few times with my lovely husband, I think it went well. I got a good reaction from the crowd, which was a real boost! 
As always, it's an absolute thrill to see my work in print. As well as the piece of flash fiction, I also submitted a piece of non-fiction, Aspects of Home.  





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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 40

A Life of Solitude in the Garden Shed

“Bernie!”

Bernard. He winced and put the light hammer down onto the pine workbench in the shed.

“Bernie!” she yelled again, across the garden. “Five minutes until tea!”

Allowing Mozart’s soft notes to sooth his mood, he waited for the Piano Concerto No. 21 to finish and then turned off the CD player which had been a gift from his eldest son for his sixtieth birthday. At the time he hadn’t imagined using it, but finding all his old opera and classical favourites on CD had become a weekend hobby over the last couple of years.

He wiped his feet and slid his ‘garden shoes’ into the rack just inside the backdoor. There was some loud, banging pop music blaring from the kitchen radio and Bernard felt the hairs of his neck rise on end. His father’s words sprang to mind, ‘she’s too young for you, my boy, mark my words!’

Jennifer put a plate of steaming vegetables, boiled potatoes and lightly grilled salmon in front of him. At least she can cook well, he thought. 

“Delicious, Jennifer. Thank you.”

“Ta!”

Bernard closed his eyes and counted to three.  

“Do you know who I saw in town today?” she asked. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Susan and she said…”

Bernard thought of his latest piece of wood that he would be able to resume working on after he had finished his dinner. It would be light until nine o’clock and after that he could listen to more Mozart until bed-time at ten. 

“Bernie!” 

Bernard. 

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, of course, dear.”   

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This piece was written a while ago as an experiment with inner voice. 

Flash Fortnightly #10 is a piece about love, letters, love letters, and regret. Click here for Letters from the Past. 

imprint 12 (the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society) was launched on Friday 15th March and as mentioned before, I was asked to read my piece of flash fiction, Fractious Heat. I was incredibly nervous, but as I had practised a few times with my lovely husband, I think it went well. I got a good reaction from the crowd, which was a real boost! 
As always, it's an absolute thrill to see my work in print. As well as the piece of flash fiction, I also submitted a piece of non-fiction, Aspects of Home.  





_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 33

 Dreams of a Faraway Place

“I had a dream last night about my father. I dreamt we were walking around the old estate, talking. He was telling me about the plants and the birds. Something he used to do all the time when I was younger. Every morning he and I used to walk around for about an hour. It was my favourite time of the day. He always carried a notebook with him and used to write down problems that needed addressing or notes about animals or plants that we hadn’t seen before.  

“We had a large house then with several acres of land around it. We had a maid, a cook and a gardener. The cook and the gardener were married and had three children. Two of them were older than me, but Ah San was only six months younger than me and he was my best friend. Every morning Mother would make me sit in the front room, or if it was really hot out on the porch, and we would read or do arithmetic. I was always really jealous of Ah San who could run around and play as his two older brothers helped his parents with their work. In the afternoons he showed me what he had been doing and then we would play together until sundown. 

“One day, on one of our morning walks, my father told me that I was going to England to go to school. I didn’t understand at first. I thought I would be coming back. As it turned out, I never saw my childhood home again. Or Ah San. Or my father.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Angry. I hated boarding school. I hated England. It was cold and drab. So very drab. I wondered where all the colours had gone. Everything was either navy, grey or black. Where were the reds, oranges, yellows and greens? I missed my old life, my real life.”

“What happened to your father?” 

“He caught a tropical disease and died. Apparently from one of the local girls he’d been seeing. My mother told me this with a hint of delight in her voice. I hated her too; for her honesty, for surviving, for not being able to keep him from straying.”

“Have you been able to tell her this?”

“Yes, I told her alright. We haven’t spoken, well not properly, in years.” 

“And have you ever been back?”   

“No. Only in my dreams.” 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

Some mornings I go for a walk in my neighbourhood. I enjoy being out at that time of day. There are always plenty of people about and one day I saw a young boy, dressed in a school uniform walking with his father. They both looked very solemn. That was the inspiration for this story, although many of the details have been altered. 

Has anyone ever had a good or bad experience with a fortune teller or tarot card reader? Personally I've only had good experiences, but this week's Flash Fortnightly was based on a story that a friend told me. Click here to see how it all ends for Carly and Hilary in Tarot Reading.


It's always wonderful when someone reads your work. Something that's also wondeful is when someone says that they've been inspired by your work. That happened to me this week when my former colleague and friend, Beth Mckinnon-Szabo, said she'd written a piece of flash fiction for her blog. Check it out on her blog: The Gallimaufry Approach to Life.

A couple of weeks ago I set up a facebook author page and I've already had loads of 'likes'. If you haven't yet, I'd be very grateful if you could 'like' the page! Click here for Laura Besley Writer. 

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 22!

A Thousand Memories

And there he was. After fifteen years he was different, of course; more grey than not, beard gone, eyes bordered by wrinkles, but the man I’d had a child with all those years ago was essentially the same. 

It seemed completely wrong to be watching him through the large windows of an Oxford tearoom. Reading the paper, he drank every few seconds from a flowered cup on a matching saucer. A plate with crumbs and a crumpled white napkin was in front of him. Why was he here? Were we supposed to meet? 

As I pulled away, he looked up and our eyes met. It can only have been seconds, but it seemed as if a thousand memories flashed before my eyes; of Sophia, of him, and of David, the man who took me a my daughter on and gave us a home and a life together. 

I ran. Down the crowded street, pushing and shoving people with my bags. I ran until the cold air had reached the bottom of my lungs and left me breathless. I ducked into an alcove and waited. For minutes I waited to see if he'd followed me and a wave of sadness washed over me when I realised he hadn't. Of course not. He didn't care now, as he didn't care then.  

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This is part three of the mini series involving David, Karen and Sophia. Each has been written from a different person's perspective and tells a different part of their story. Each piece should be a standalone piece, but if you're interested in the previous pieces click here for Confessions (week 1) and here for Numb (week 2). 

Took part in the CAKE.shortandsweet Wednesday Write-In again this week. Prompts: paperback, bounce, crushing, liquor, root. First draft quite different from final. Click here to read Darkness.

Had my first book reviews published in TIME OUT HONG KONG this week. Very excited to be a part of that team! Unfortunately you can't see them online, you'll just have to buy a copy (if you're in Hong Kong, that is)!  

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.