... Yi-jung Chen on the Formosan Blue Magpie, her stories and AI
... Yi-jung Chen on the Formosan Blue Magpie, her stories and AI
Hello Bettina, and hello to all the readers of Zauberspiegel! Thank you so much for having me. I am Yi-jung Chen, a writer, educator, and storyteller from Taiwan. I spent many years surrounded by nature and local folklore, which deeply shape my perspective. In my creative work, I focus on weaving natural imagery—especially tropical flora and native fauna—with magical realism, sensory emotions, and cultural memory.
I work as a primary school special education teacher in a resource room, specializing in Mandarin language arts. My work focuses on supporting children with diverse learning needs, helping them find their unique voices through stories and sensory expression. What I love most about working with these children is their unfiltered sense of wonder and extraordinary imagination. They often perceive the world from unexpected angles—unburdened by strict boundaries between reality and fantasy. To them, a rustling tree might carry a whispered message, and a bird might guard an ancient secret. Observing their distinct ways of interacting with the world constantly inspires me to stay curious and view nature through an imaginative, compassionate lens.
I began writing out of a deep desire to preserve fleeting sensations—the sound of summer cicadas, the scent of crushed leaves, or the quiet melancholia of local traditions. For me, writing is a form of emotional alchemy. It allows me to bridge my inner emotional world with the physical landscape of Taiwan. It is both a sanctuary where I process life and a bridge to connect with readers across different cultures.
I am drawn to flash fiction, eco-fiction, and magical realism. My stories often center on botanical themes, animal symbolism, and Taiwanese cultural heritage (such as traditional seasonal lore or nostalgic childhood soundscapes). I love exploring the subtle boundaries between the human heart and the wild nature—how a plant's growth can reflect desire, or how a local bird can embody ancestral memories.
I would describe my work as Magical Realism blended with Dark Eco-Fiction and Satirical Allegory. Rather than treating local folklore, natural ecology, or maritime symbols as mere backdrops or traditional myths, I like to weave them directly into modern human struggles, social hierarchies, and environmental grief. It's a space where local creatures, legends, and raw human emotions collide—sometimes surreal, sometimes razor-sharp, but always grounded in the lived landscape of Taiwan.
Yes! My writings—ranging from speculative prose, localized allegories, and eco-centric poetry to cultural essays—have been published across various digital literary platforms, independent literary zines, and creative journals, both locally in Taiwan and internationally. I frequently publish serialized fiction and experimental poetry online, exploring the intersection of human trauma, environmental memory, and folklore.
I came across Zauberspiegel while searching for international literary platforms that appreciate speculative fiction, magical realism, and mythic storytelling. I was impressed by your dedicated readership and passion for imaginative literature. I wanted to share a slice of Taiwanese natural magic with German readers, believing that stories rooted in regional ecology can still resonate universally.
The story draws deep inspiration from the Taiwanese-language literary works of Chen Lei (陳雷, the pen name of Wu Ching-yü 吳景裕), whose writing profoundly honors Taiwanese land, native fauna, and local identity. The Taiwan Blue Magpie (Urocissa caerulea) is an endemic species in Taiwan, known for its striking royal-blue plumage, long tail, and remarkably fierce, protective nature toward its family. They are bold, communal, and deeply bound to the island's mountain forests. Channeling the spirit of Chen Lei's Taiwanese literature, I was inspired by the magpie's intense presence—how they glide like vivid blue ribbons through the green canopy while fiercely guarding their nests. To me, the magpie represents both fiery passion and protective grace, making it a perfect symbol for a story about territory, memory, and wild affection.
The Taiwan Blue Magpie (Urocissa caerulea) is an endemic species in Taiwan, known for its striking appearance, fierce territorial instincts, and uniquely cooperative breeding behavior—where family members help raise the young together. To me, this bird embodies the resilient spirit of Taiwan itself. In the story, exploring issues like coastal erosion, historical displacement, industrial exploitation, and intergenerational grief was vital. Taiwan's history is marked by rapid transformation, land subsidence, and communities forced to adapt to environmental sacrifice zones. The Blue Magpie acts as a wild, unblinking witness to these scars. By using its perspective, I wanted to show that our social hardships and land traumas are not isolated; they are deeply watched and shared by the non-human living world around us.
I view AI not as a ghostwriter, but as a collaborative sounding board and a translation bridge. The core emotional truth, original concepts, metaphoric imagery, and cultural roots always originate entirely from my own human experiences and Taiwanese poetry.
When creating the Taiwan Blue Magpie story, I first wrote the core narrative grounded in my personal observations of the bird and local foliage. I then used AI as an interactive partner to explore linguistic nuances— testing how poetic Chinese metaphors (like the bird's striking blue feathers or seasonal sensory details) could best be translated into English while retaining their sensory resonance and rhythmic tension. AI helps me refine sentence cadence, brainstorm stylistic variations, and navigate cross-cultural phrasing. The spark and soul belong entirely to human creation; AI simply acts as the modern loom that helps weave my native story into an international language.
I completely understand and respect these concerns—the fear of art losing its human soul is valid. However, I view AI not as a ghostwriter or a replacement for lived human experience, but as a dynamic sounding board, a conceptual lens, and a creative multiplier. An AI has never felt the sting of salt air in Yunlin, smelled a muddy clam, or grieved a lost relationship. The core vision, emotional pain, cultural nuances, and moral truths MUST come from the human writer. When used ethically, AI acts like a high-tech loom: it helps the writer stretch ideas, test absurd metaphors, or refine narrative pacing, but the thread and the design remain undeniably human. True originality lies in what you choose to say and why you care to say it.
I am currently working on a collection of satirical eco-allegories and dark speculative short stories centered around Taiwan's changing coastal landscapes. One piece I'm particularly excited about weaves together maritime folklore ("The Sea General's Crest"), aquaponic labor satire, and local aquaculture struggles into a dark, absurd tale of human delusion and environmental vengeance. As for my future journey, I hope to continue bridging Taiwanese folklore and environmental realities with global readers, proving that localized stories of soil, sea, and survival speak a universal language.
P.S. On Literary Influence & Homage: I would also like to briefly share a deep source of inspiration for my work. In weaving together Taiwan's local landscapes, cultural memory, and narrative voice, I am profoundly influenced by the literary legacy of Dr. Wu Ching-yu (pen name Chen Lei), a pioneering Taiwanese literature writer and physician. My exploration of Taiwanese roots borrows and echoes some of his iconic vocabulary, tragic sensibilities, and philosophical concepts regarding land and human suffering. To me, incorporating these literary echoes is a way of engaging in a generational dialogue with his work, honoring how his legacy continues to shape the soul of contemporary Taiwanese eco-fiction and storytelling.
