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I wanted to let you all know about a new middle grade novel that's just hit the shelves: Paladin: Pawn by Michael D. Young.
One of my favorite things to ask authors is what inspired them to write their books. What about the story reached out and grabbed them. Author Michael Young is here to answer what inspired him to write Paladin: Pawn.
Believe it or not, in the days before the advent of the smartphone, we had to make our own fun. On long, Summer days growing up, it was up to me, the oldest, to entertain my younger brothers and sisters. Luckily, I had an active imagination, and loved telling stories. My siblings and I would make up elaborate stories, of dragons, knights, hideous monsters, and plots within plots. Often, we’d act out our exploits on the trampoline in the backyard, or on our bikes as we rode around the neighborhood. Bikes double pretty well for a noble steed when you are ten. I especially loved making up stories about knights. I’d even draw illustrations of their elaborate armor, labeling them with lavish, heroic names. I believe that this story was an outgrowth of the stories of my youth. It is a story that I wrote years ago, wondering what it would be like if a kid the age I was when I used to make up those stories really were a knight. The central point of a good knight to me was always their noble aspect, the fact that they did the right things for the right reasons, which is why I wrote the knights in this story like I did. They gain strength as they do the right thing, and lose power when they make selfish decisions. As for the chess connection, I grew up playing that as well, though often it was a version called “Nightmare Chess” where you each had different cards that allowed you to all sorts of crazy things. That’s more the kind of chess this is. In any case, I hope that readers will enjoy Rich’s trip from normal boy to knight just as much as my siblings did on those long Summer days making up stories.
A little bit about Paladin: Pawn to whet your appetite: :D
When nerdy Rich Witz unwittingly becomes a Paladin, a white knight, in training, he is thrust into a world where flunking a test can change the course of history and a mysterious bully is playing for keeps with his life. Rich’s grandmother leaves him with one thing before disappearing for good: a white chess pawn with his initials engraved on it. The pawn marks him as the next in an ancient line of white knights. He must prove himself in a life or death contest against his Nemesis, a dark knight in training, all while dealing with math homework and English projects. With the ghost of an ancestor for his guide, he has seven days to complete four tasks of valor before his Nemesis does, or join his guide in the realm of the dead. As Rich rushes to complete the tasks, he realizes the chilling truth: his Nemesis is masquerading as someone at school and will stop at nothing to make him fail. As the tasks grow ever harder, the other knights reveal to him that his failure will break a centuries-old chain and bring the Paladin order to ruin. If he fails, the dark knights win the right to control the fate of the world, a world without hope or the possibility of a new dawn. So this is one exam Rich has to ace, with no curve and no extra credit.
Michael D. Young is the author of the novels THE CANTICLE KINGDOM, THE CANTICLE PRELUDE and THE
LAST ARCHANGEL. He is also the author of the inspirational pamphlet PORTRAIT OF A MOTHER, a contributor to the anthologies PARABLES FOR TODAY and DARK STARS, the co-author of VOICES IN YOUR BLOOD and the author of several web serials through BigWorldNetwork.com. His most recent works are SING WE NOW OF CHRISTMAS, and CAROL OF THE TALES, two anthologies of short stories with the proceeds going to charity. He has also had work featured in various online and print magazines such as Bards and Sages Quarterly, Mindflights, Meridian, The New Era, Allegory, and Ensign.
I can't believe 2014 is almost over. I was just starting to revel in the fall--the crisp tattered lace fallen from the trees, that moment when the trees put off their prim greenery and are a blaze of color, the scent of apples heavy in the air, that time when the world has neither foot in summer nor winter but some magically wonderful place in between.
And now it's December and my thoughts are filled with gingerbread and the soothing scent of pine, with brightly colored lights and that snuggly warm feeling that means home.
Christmas, I'm looking at you. :)
Naturally, my reading tastes tend toward whatever I'm feeling, which means I'm on the lookout for some Christmas reading.
And what did I spy with my tiny reindeer? But a collection of Christmas stories written by a dear friend and a very able wordsmith: Angie Lofthouse, writer of inspirational science fiction for everyone in the family. :)
Spirits Bright: A Christmas Collection by Angie Lofthouse
A different kind of Christmas on a far-away planet. A starship lost on the wrong side of the galaxy. A woman disconnected from everyone she knows. Combining family, traditions, and faith with the wonder and excitement of science fiction, this collection is sure to delight and inspire you this holiday season. Christmas. In space. How awesome is that? I snapped up my copy and can't wait to dig in! Places you can find Angie: Amazon | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Website | Blog | Newsletter What about you guys? Any favorite stories you like to read around Christmas time?
0 Comments on Spirits Bright! It's December! as of 12/1/2014 10:18:00 AM
Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Giveaway, hosted by urban fantasy & paranormal romance author Ash Krafton…
Just like last year, more than FIFTY AUTHORS of fantasy and paranormal books are giving away books and swag. Hope you’re ready to start clicking and start winning because the Rafflecopters await!
In order to ensure you get a book you will love, we have divided our prizes into two groups—adult books and YA books. Feel free to enter either giveaway or both. ☺
Giveaway runs until October 31st...plenty of time to get all your entries in...
The authors:
Tricia Schneider, Nicole Zoltack, Marsha A. Moore, Mimi Sebastian, Terri Rochenski, Kiru Taye, Julie Reece, Lori J. Fitzgerald, Debbie Christiana, Georgia Lyn Hunter, M. Pax, Sharon Saracino, Shah Wharton, H. L. Burke, Angela Myron, Jocelyn Adams, James Garcia Jr, Tina Moss, Danielle DeVor, Sharon Buchbinder, April Aasheim, CL Bledsoe, Mara Valderran, Angela Yseult, Kallysten, Juli D. Revezzo, Aldrea Alien, Loralie Hall, Allyson Lindt, Sotia Lazu, Angela Castillo, Valerie Twombly, R.M. James, Shanyn Hosier,
Ronesa Aveela, Sofia Grey, Konstanz Silverbow, Melissa McPhail, Jamie Marchant, Brandy L Rivers, JC Andrijeski, Stacey Nash, Nancy Corrigan, Scarlett Dawn, Jami Gray, Erica Crouch, Janna Jennings, Tonya Macalino, Christine E. Schulze, Selah Janel, and Ash Krafton.
Happy Wednesday! I wanted to let you know about a new fairy tale retelling that's just about to hit
the shelves: The Dwarf and the Twins by Katharina Gerlach. Finding new retellings makes me very happy indeed, but even better is that this is the first book in a new series! I also love the idea of including the original fairy tale. The other awesome thing is that if you're into learning foreign languages, Katharina is also releasing a German version:
(I've got to admit, I love the way the German title trills off the tongue. The books officially release on October 4th, but you can preorder here.)
And now, without further ado, a word from the author:
As a German (born and raised but with a “spare” family in Scotland), it is no wonder I have a soft spot for fairy tales. What's surprising is that it took me so long to write another one... two... three... ;-) When I began writing, the first story I considered publishable but probably wasn't was a fairy tale, but every publisher I sent it to told me fairy tales don't sell. I think that might be the reason why I stopped writing them. Then, I took a course a little while back about series writing (I'm working on a Middle Grade time travel series), and my Muse (that's my creative side) insisted on writing “The Dwarf and the Twin”. It is a retelling of “Snow White and Rose Red” by the Brothers Grimm. In the original tale, two innocent maidens help a talking bear through the winter. They also help a vicious dwarf despite his bouts of anger. It was one of my favorites as a kid. So when my Muse insisted, I jumped at the chance. I got a story with a traditional fairy tale flavor – with magic, a real fairy and all. However, that was not the end. Next, my Muse insisted on a retelling of “Beauty and the Beast” (scheduled for release in early January) and surprised me by setting that tale firmly into the Steampunk genre. Me: “There's no way these tales are from the same series.” Muse: “But they are, and I can prove it to you.” Me: “Why don't you come here and we'll go through the suggested planning?” Muse: “Your course is fine for the other series but this one's different.” Me: “But I like planning.” Muse: “You like surprises. Now, sit down and write.” And thus, the third tale was born, still rough and uneven. It is a retelling of “Little Brother, Little Sister” from the point of view of the stepmother who's not as evil as the original makes out. And it is the tale that brings together magic and steam engine technology in a logical and absolutely interesting way. I'm awed. My Muse is the best. But now, I'm off to revise tale #3 and write tale #4, a retelling of “The House in the Wood” (Grimm again) because my Muse won't let me off so easily. I wish a day had more time. Meanwhile, get a copy of “The Dwarf and the Twins” and leave a review when you're done reading. Thanks a ton.
"I was born in Germany in 1968. Me and my three younger brothers grew up in the middle of a forest in the heart of the Luneburgian Heather. After romping through the forest with imagination as my guide, tomboy-me learned to read and disappeared into magical adventures, past times or eerie fairytale woods.
I didn’t stop at reading. During my training as a landscape gardener, I wrote my first novel, a manuscript full of a beginner’s mistakes. Fortunately, I found books on Creative Writing and soon my stories improved. For a while, reality interfered with my writing but after finishing a degree in forestry and a PhD in Science, I returned to my vocation. I like to write Fantasy, Science Fiction and Historical Novels for all age groups.
At present, I am writing at my next project in a small house near Hildesheim, Germany, where I live with my husband, my three children and my dog. I've had various short stories published in Germany as well as a non-fiction e-book in US-Fantasy author Holly Lisle’s “The 33 Worst Mistakes Writers Make About …” series."
I'm happy to say that Saltwater Curiosities is up and available if you're a subscriber to my mailing list. I'll be uploading it to Amazon, B&N, and Kobo within a day or so.
Which brings me to the next Curiosity: Curiosities of the Enchanted Forest. It was meant to be the Curiosity for September. However, plans have changed a little. About a month ago, I was dealing with a stomach virus and all the lovely things attendant upon stomach bugs. And one of the fun things with having Chronic Fatigue/Adrenal Fatigue is that it takes me a lot longer to get all the way better. I'm still working on recovering--my energy, my stomach's been good for a long while--and haven't hit 100% yet.
So I lost about a month's worth of work, time wise. Which means, I could push and stuff words into this Curiosity so I can Maintain My Deadlines, or I can do the smart thing and let you guys know this one is going to be a little late.
I'm opting for smart this time around. :D Telling good stories is, in my opinion, more important than hitting every single deadline no matter what. And while I could, possibly, maybe have this one out on time, I need to finish THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC first. I only need another week or so before it's ready for edits, so that's where I'll be throwing my energy and storytelling.
So. Curiosities of the Enchanted Forest is coming, I just won't be maintaining my previous posting schedule. In fact, there's a pretty good chance I won't be posting any of it online this month. The actual Curiosity itself shouldn't be available more than a day or two later than originally planned. And, if you're a subscriber, you'll still be getting your copy somewhere thereabouts. :)
As for the second, I'll still be posting here occasionally, but will mostly be over on link to my tumblr.
Over at Trapped in Ink, I'll be posting whatever takes my fancy. Pretty stuff, thoughtful stuff, quotes from stuff I'm reading, quotes from stuff I'm writing, quilling stuff, spinning/knitting/crocheting stuff. Pretty much, stuff. :D I've figured out how to add comments to my tumblr feed, so *crossing fingers it works* feel free to stop by, pull up a comfy chair, and say hi. :)
So have a great week. I'm off to Bettony's and my first ball. Wish us luck!
If you'd like to receive info about upcoming books as well as receive the Subscriber's Special Complimentary Curiosities, enter your email below to subscribe to my mailing list.
*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my mailing list*
0 Comments on Two Items of Business as of 9/3/2014 12:30:00 AM
Happy Monday! August is nearly over, which means the selection of short stories and the current episode from Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae is all up for this Curiosity. Here are the links if you'd like to read them before they disappear on the last day of the month: Bottomless Mira Morgastein Episode Two, Part 1 Mira Morgastein Episode Two, Part 2 The Merrow's Cap All the links will take you to my website. If you would like your complimentary copy of Saltwater Curiosities, make sure you've subscribed to my mailing list before August 31st. Note: the above stories do not make up the Saltwater Curiosities in its entirety. They're just an extended sample of everything that will be included. The first two parts of this series are already available:
The Curious Leaf is a short story that kicks off the Curiosities. This is the story of how a little flower, barely three seasons old, and a faerie of unknown (for now!) origin team up to explore, to discover, and to become. This is the prelude to the other serial running through each Curiosity and details Kya (the flower, now somewhat faerie) and Hearthorne's (the faerie, now somewhat flower) adventures that determine the theme for each Curiosity. Available on Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo
The second adventure is Curiosities of the Moon. Kya had always wanted to see the moon while she stood in her pot on the windowsill dreaming, so it's no surprise that this is the first stop of The Curious Leaf--a walnut ship with maple leaves for sails. What they discover there kicks off a new set of adventures that will ripple through a number of Curiosities to come. Available on Amazon|Barnes and Noble|Kobo
Speaking of future Curiosities, I'm excited to announce the third in series: Curiosities of the Enchanted Forest. The short stories have been a blast to write and include the further adventures of Kya and Hearthorne, a princess who is cursed to do everything backwards, and a short story involving Faryn, Lily, and Terrik from Slippers of Pearl. The first short story will be available on my website the first Monday of September. :)
As for other books news, THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC, the long awaited sequel to The Trouble With Toads, is on schedule and--barring illness or (super)natural disasters--will be available very soon. I'd be more specific, but I've found the second I make future release dates public, various gremlins, goblins, and dragons appear suddenly demanding sprockets, tolls, and riddles. All of which invariably delay things. So I'll be sending out the news once I'm ready to upload. And guys! While I am very sorry it's taken *coughcoughayearcough* longer to release than I'd originally anticipated--what with 2013 being the Year of the Harpies and the nearly finished draft that was all wrong. I'm so glad I threw the original draft out and started over from scratch. THIS is the story as it was meant to be told, and I couldn't be happier with how things are going. I hope you guys love and enjoy it as much as I do once it's out in the wild.
If you'd like to receive info about upcoming books as well as receive the Subscriber's Special Complimentary Curiosities, enter your email below to subscribe to my mailing list.
*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my mailing list*
0 Comments on A Taste of the Saltwater Curiosities as of 8/25/2014 7:03:00 AM
I'm really enjoying Mira's story and all that's coming, and I can't wait to share it with you! :)
The first part of this story (comprising parts 1 and 2 I posted last month) are available in Curiosities of the Moon.
This installment (episode two) is all about both the wonder and horror of being a queen of Faerie and how Mira confronts that.
My favorite part about both Mira Morganstein as a whole, as well as writing this particular installment, was researching the nearly dead fae from various cultures and countries.
Click here to read. I hope you enjoy! (For clarification, the link will take you to where it's posted on my website. :))
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*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my mailing list*
0 Comments on Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae: Episode Two, Part 1 as of 8/11/2014 8:16:00 AM
This week's short story is from the Tales of the Snow Queen world and explains how the bottomless sea came to be.
The story took me by surprise--but it was a pleasant one and has become my very most favorite of all the short stories I've ever written. I attribute this to Lyralind--an unlikely thief that ends up turning much of the world upside down. :)
Elliara was teasing Robin’s egg out of its nest when the king died.
She froze as the feeling of his passing tore through her like lightning, the egg and her previous mischief all but forgotten.
She had never seen the king, nor had she ever traveled to his silver city beneath the Mound.
So why did his passing tug at her so? And why was she aware in the first place? He might have been King of the Folk, but that meant nothing to her.
Why was a grief too heavy for tears welling up and soaking her insides?
Elliara shook her head, hoping to shake theses strange feelings loose, but she might as well have been trying to peel spider silk from off her fingers for all the good it did her. And trying to rid herself of them only revealed to her how deep they ran.
Her chest tightened with the realization, and for a single breath, her wings stopped fluttering.
Death was a cairn with rubies and other gems to keep your bones company if you were a king. The bright sparklies kept folk from noticing the more important things like a rusted sword or a tarnished ring or any number of enchanted objects that were too powerful to leave lying about where those foolish enough to use them could find them.
But it wasn’t this . . . this enormous weight. This vast quantity of night that obscured something bigger and deeper below.
For a moment, the darkness expanded until she felt as though one of the top worlders had stepped on her. Then it receded, taking with it a bit of the world.
This week's selection is a serial that will be running through each Curiosity along with the short stories. Mira Morganstein is *not* a serialized novel--that is, a novel chopped into pieces. It is a serial--think of comic books or T.V. shows. Each "episode" comes complete with a beginning, a middle, and an end for the particular story arc in that episode, but there will not be a story resolution at the end like a novel. Because of how long each episode is, I've divided the serial into two parts. Part 2 is posted today, while part 1 was posted last Monday. In the Curiosity itself, Episode One of Mira Morganstein will be complete and comprised of parts 1 and 2. I hope you enjoy!
Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae, Episode One, Part 2
Official Proclamation
The one known as Mira Morganstein of the Mortal Realm has been found. As of yet, she poses no direct threat to our Realm, but that is likely to change before the next moon fall. Every citizen is required by Queen Ravenna’s word to report any sightings, rumors, supposings, or information they may have gathered, found, or overheard dealing with or pertaining to Mira Morganstein. Failure to do so will result in being banished to the Mortal Realm for the duration of seven moon falls. Remember: no matter how horrible death may be, there are far worse fates reserved for those whose loyalties lie with elsewhere.
LONG MAY THE QUEEN WIELD HER SCEPTER AND STAFF!
Chapter Five: The Eleventy Year
The meeting was worse than Mira could have imagined.
Rather than one pair of bright, inquisitive eyes studying her inside and out, she had twelve of them to contend with. Her mother didn’t count, mostly because of the worry line etched between her brows and the way her eyes jumped from one person to the next without ever seeming to find exactly what they were looking for.
If her mother was worried, well, that said something.
Happy Tuesday! I'm excited to help spread the word about my good friend Ash Krafton's newest release: Wolf's Bane, the third book in her Demimonde series. If you enjoy urban fantasy, you'll love this series. (Bleeding Hearts is the first book and on sale for $1.99.) And while WOLF'S BANE is the third and concluding book for this particular story, there are plenty of other stories in the Demimonde world just waiting to be told!
Wolf's Bane by Ash Krafton
When life gives you lemons, all you can do is try to avoid paper cuts.
Since becoming oracle to the demivampire two years ago, advice columnist Sophie has battled werewolves and survived a vampire attack (or two).
However, not only was she powerless to save her lover Marek when he slipped to the brink of evolution, she also witnessed his transformation into a falcon, the symbol of Horus United.
Sophie’s quest to save Marek is further complicated when rock star Dierk Adeluf – who also happens to be the king of the Werekind – invites her backstage after a concert. Just when it seems she will find respite from heartache, Sophie is bitten by a werewolf and Dierk decides she is destined to be his queen.
Sophie is caught between the demivamps she loves and the Were who commands her to love him. Throw in his jealous wanna-be girlfriend and an ambush by witches, and there you have the big mess that Sophie calls her life. And, hello? Her soul mate is still a bird.
She’s supposed to be the girl with all the answers, but Sophie needs more than a little advice--she needs divine intervention.
The man sitting across from me absolutely hated himself.
I didn’t need to unzip my barriers to make that assessment. The way his shoulders crept up his neck, the curve of his back that left his face parallel to his thighs, the way he avoided looking at me or anyone else—body language said it all. And when he did finally raise his too-heavy head to look at me, his eyes were stony and hollow, too dead to even care what anyone saw in them.
He wore his self-loathing the way I wished I wore Jimmy Choos—right out there for the whole world to see. Difference was, he didn’t care who looked.
I glanced at the demivamp who hovered behind him like a first-year teacher. She toyed with the end of her braid and looked ready to throw herself onto him if need be. Maybe he was a flight risk. Maybe he was a danger to himself.
Maybe he was a danger to me. In that case, the other DV wasn’t necessary. I didn’t worry so much about myself anymore. I’d learned a thing or two about staying alive.
Not to mention, I had an entire courtroom full of DV that perched on the semi-circles of benches, elbow to elbow, each waiting their turn with the Sophia. I knew full well every single one of them would fling themselves between me and whatever peril might arise here.
I was well-guarded. Perks of being a national treasure.
I flicked my gaze up to the DV who stood behind my client, dismissing her. Once she took her place in the audience, I sank into my Sophia sight. Finding my center and called up my barriers, peeling away the outermost layer and expanding it until it encompassed us both in an invisible but completely sound-proof bubble.
A nifty little trick I’d learned since Dorcas removed the last remaining obstacles between me and my power. She hadn’t been much of a dresser and had a weird thing for vampires, not to mention acting like the scariest damned thing I’d ever seen, but I had to hand it to her. She’d done me a solid.
When the barrier went up around us, there was a little ear-pop of sensation. He seemed to notice me then. His eyes took up a pale light, gleaming like the teeth he hid behind the disdainful curl of his lips. His power seethed out like the odor of a hot dumpster—the feel of it decayed and ugly and absolutely desperate.
I smiled, grim and hard. This guy might be the farthest gone DV I’d ever met. He was going to be a challenge.
Good.
I decided to start the same way I always did, knowing this one might not end the same way. “What’s your name?”
He stared me down for several moments. “You want my current name or the one that’s waiting for me?”
Obviously, he was referring to the name change that happened when a DV Fell. Vampires never kept their DV names. All part of the whole born-again (dead-again?) persona of a newly-minted vamp.
“You have one name,” I said, my voice like tungsten. “And you’re going to keep it.”
“Like you can stop me.”
I smiled again, glad I had chosen to wear lip gloss because my mouth was so dry, my lips would have split without it. “I can. And I will.”
“Look, lady.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The pale light in his dark eyes looked like an early hard frost on a green lawn. Untimely end of a sweet season. “I know who you are, and I know what you do. Sometimes, you just gotta let nature take its course.”
“This isn’t nature. This is self-punishment.”
He smiled, open-mouthed to show all his teeth. Sharp, elongated, a mouth full of knives. A vamp’s mouth. “And I earned every single minute of it.”
Okay. Tough guy. Proud of the shitty things he’s done. That was part of the thrill of being so close to Falling. Kind of like passing over the event horizon into a black hole, when one part of you accelerates faster than the rest. His soul was a ragged plastic bag caught on a tree branch, waiting for the last big wind to come along.
His heart had already flown loose. In his heart, he was a vampire.
Well, his body was still here, and his soul was still here, and I was still here. He was in for a surprise.
I surveyed his power, using Sophia-sight to visualize it. It was dark, like cooling lava, black and cracked and sullen red showing through the seams. The black crust was his resignation. He’d stopped fighting. Well, maybe he just needed the right sparring partner.
How did you get rid of hard, black cooling lava? Why, you heat it up, of course. Nothing got a man hotter than his temper.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There were other things, but that wasn’t my brand of therapy.
I pushed through his brittle ugly shell into the lava beneath, then through the lava to his inner core. It was tiny, but it was cool, and green, and still had the essence of who he used to be. His feelings were still packed away inside and I latched onto it, expanded it, examined it. Family. He had kids. A job. He’d been a lawyer, and a good one. He was proud of what he’d done—in the beginning.
Ah. That’s where it started to turn. I sifted along the line of those memories and found the point when he started fighting for the bad guys.
“A dirty lawyer?” I snorted and rolled my eyes. “There’s a shock. Your parents must be so proud.”
He growled and dug his fingers into his thighs. “Shut up.”
“No wonder you turned into this.” I waved my fingers at him as if I were calling out a Coach bag knock-off at a street vendor. “I thought you were going to say you ate babies or something but a corrupt lawyer? That’s sick.”
Rage filled him like a burning warehouse, the fury consuming his power. If it weren’t for my personal shields, I’d have been incinerated. The fire of his anger melted the hard shell of his former apathy and he’d become a miniature sun of murderous intent.
He wanted to end me, wanted nothing more than to get his hands on me.
I beat him to it.
Like the flick of a mental finger, I opened the door in my mind where all the bad stuff went. It was like a vacuum in there and once it was open, it just sucked at his power, the ugly, the hate and the agony he’d surrounded himself with and I pulled.
It hurt. It hurt me, it was like sandpaper on the eyes and it hurt him. He howled as I ripped away all the fury of his self-loathing and hate.
Normally, I did this in steps, gently, kind of a leeching away. Not this guy. I had to over-power him because at this stage, he could just grow it all back. Vampires were infinite wells of hate and evil and this guy was so damned close.
His howl became a roar and he made a lunge for me. I slid a ramrod of my shields at him and held him at a mental arm’s length. He struggled to reach me, his clawed hands inches from my eyes and if he got to me, if he reached me, he’d tear my throat out.
No, he wouldn’t. I was stronger than that. I bit down on my lips and tasted the tang of blood and continued to strip his agony away.
This little man wasn’t big enough to break me. I continued to pull away the damage of his soul, and sent a simultaneous stream of the Sophia into him, a cool mist against the acrid hate. His soul had been dried and withered and it soaked up the Sophia’s healing rain, swelling and anchoring itself once more.
The fight was going out of him. He dropped his hands, fighting to breathe. Part of my brain screamed to stop, this was too much, too fast. But a part of my heart was intent on pushing the limits, almost wishing to break because maybe then—just maybe—I’d break past whatever unknown obstacle had been holding me back. Desperation drove me just as surely as it had driven him.
So I was relentless. I continued the pull and the push and I found myself standing over his slumped body. He’d slid down in his chair, head dropped against the back of the cushion, his eyes darkening into a deep green, like spring grass. And I didn’t stop.
I didn’t stop until he’d fallen to his knees before me, forehead pressed to my feet, crying and repeating words I couldn’t hear because the Sophia was too much in control. My ears didn’t work right when she was filling my head. I kind of got used to it.
When it was all gone, all the damage and the negativity and the self-hate, the Sophia pulled itself back, sealing the drain. Sound returned, and I could hear his labored breathing, his murmured chanting. My insides still felt raw. That would take a day or two to settle down.
I was aware the outer barrier was still up and I dispelled it. Another ear-pop and we were both submerged in a cacophony of applause and happy shouting. Several people rushed forward to embrace him, hugs for him, awkward hugs for me. I backed away from the jostling and let his family and friends bear him back to the seats. He beamed at me, incredulous joy and gratitude on his face.
And it didn’t touch me at all.
I only had two thoughts. The first was: I had just gotten inside him, battled his demons, saved his soul, but I never learned his name. Maybe it was better that way. There were so many DV. I couldn’t remember all their names and keep my sanity.
The second was: it hadn’t been enough. He was, by far, the worst I’d encountered and it still wasn’t enough. There had been no revelation, clue, no hint how to fix the one problem I needed to fix.
I’d come no closer to solving Marek’s problem.
A terrible panic tried to grip me but I squashed it down. I swallowed hard and pinched myself and turned to the crowd. The entire group fell silent, hanging on my words.
“Another,” I called. “Please. I need another.”
And I continued to heal, and I continued to need, and I continued to fight the growing fear that in the end, I might save a million DV and still stand to lose the one I truly loved.
Another stepped forward, and after him another, and it was pushing dawn before I realized none of it had given me what I needed to save Marek.
I stared bleakly at the sea of hopeful faces. So many saves, so many solutions, all of it dwarfed in the shadow of my heart’s crushing failure. All my exhaustion, all my despair, all of the raw edges inside me, seething with the scalds of so much negative energy, and all I could think was that I had to do this all again for the next envoy in three days’ time.
Einstein’s Definition of Insanity Sophie, that’s me.
Ash Krafton is a writer of all things spec fic. She believes spectacular endings make the best beginnings... Why not? One billion black holes can't be wrong.
Her urban fantasy series The Books of the Demimonde is available through Pink Narcissus Press. It includes the titles BLEEDING HEARTS, BLOOD RUSH, and the upcoming WOLF'S BANE, expected June 2014.
Her urban fantasy novelette STRANGER AT THE HELL GATE is with the Black Rose line of The Wild Rose Press. WORDS THAT BIND is her first full-length paranormal romance and will be available through TWRP Faery Rose line.
In addition to novel-length fiction, Ash enjoys writing poetry and short fiction, some of which earned awards and distinction in several national competitions. One of her poems was selected as a Pushcart prize nominee. She's a member of Pennwriters, RWA, Pikes Peak Writers, SFPA, and the Maryland Writers Association. She also contributes to Query Tracker's blog at http://querytracker.blogspot.com.
Ash resides with her family in a rural town in the heart of the Pennsylvania anthracite coal region. She'll never leave, either, because coal is just another example of a spectacular ending waiting for a brilliant beginning. (It's kinda fitting.)
And because, like a black hole, once you're in... ...you can never get out.
This week's selection is a serial that will be running through each Curiosity along with the short stories. Mira Morganstein is *not* a serialized novel--that is, a novel chopped into pieces. It is a serial--think of comic books or T.V. shows. Each "episode" comes complete with a beginning, a middle, and an end for the particular story arc in that episode, but there will not be a story resolution at the end like a novel. Because of how long each episode is, I've divided the serial into two parts. Part 1 is posted today, while part 2 will be posted next Monday. In the Curiosity itself, Episode One of Mira Morganstein will be complete and comprised of parts 1 and 2. I hope you enjoy!
Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae, Episode One, PART 1
Preliminary Report by Bodkins A Hatpin to Her Majesty of the Realm Subject: Mira Morganstein a.k.a Our New Queen In Potentia Topic: The Subject’s Fascination with the Number Three, Glitter, and Fancy Dresses.
Your Majesty, As per your request, I have studied the girl in question. While the magic is in her blood, I am still not settled as to whether or not her personality is compatible with her future duties. My findings are below.
Mira Morganstein has always wanted to be a princess.
If it is pink, frilly, or sparkles, she wants one. Two is better, and three, perfect.
Mira always does things by threes if she can help it—which will be both a strength and a hinderance.
So far as we have been able to ascertain, she believes three is a special number that is, at its heart, the direct opposite of what it says it is. An odd number, yet it is made of two half circles stacked one on top of the other. It has three points aimed at the left, but always looks forward. It is an unfinished letter “B”, and its number of points odd and its curves even.
She is the sort of person who finds comfort in a number that is more like a metaphor than a simple symbol used to denote the space between two and four. Her math teacher, Ms. Simmons, a mortal fraught with reality, despairs of ever getting Mira to write a three without flourishing it somewhere.
According to Mira: “Three says a thousand things in a single blink.”
When she isn’t flourishing her threes in math, Mira dreams of the dresses she’d wear if she were a princess. Fluffy, airy concoctions that are spring and a sweet shop all rolled up in one. Long skirts that swish against her legs while they “uncurl behind her in a frothy train.” Sometimes she “glitters with thousands of tiny rhinestones sewn into the bodice,” while other times she “glimmers thanks to the efforts of a million sequins.”
Due to her fascination with shiny objects, her flair for daydreaming, and the faerie gold she’s hoarding beneath her bed, it is clear that she is nearly ready to take up her scepter and crown. Whether or not she is able to keep it is another thing entirely. Hypothesis: If someone told her she would one day be a faerie princess, she would be thrilled. In her mind, what could be more perfect than beautiful gowns, jewel encrusted tiaras, and wings? Of Note: Unbeknownst to her, but not to the Folk in the Higher Accounting and Naming, Mira does happen to be a faerie princess. And as such, with the regrettable news that her predecessor * has moved on,** it is time to see if the princess *** has what it takes to fill the shoes of a queen. Recommendation: Send Toadwort to break the news to her. He is the most expendable and least likely to be missed should he suffer from an unfortunate incident.****
Bodkin A. Hatpin
Bodkin A. Hatpin Chair of the Folk in Higher Accounting and Naming
*Her [late] Majesty, Queen Raelenna Silverhew **Due to being flattened when she got on the wrong side of a giant’s foot. ***Or, more accurately, the Queen in Potentia. ****I should hope that I do not have to remind anyone of the Lengle fiasco a couple of queens ago.
The world had been dark before her coming, or so the Sky said.
Mortals lived in darkness, eased only by hungry fire that devoured everything it touched and was never satisfied no matter how much it consumed.
Then the sun came, and for half the day, mortals could blink up at the light and see things clearly for the first time. But the world wasn’t complete until she came to light the night with her presence and a scattering of stars.
The sun walked in truth, but she spoke in stories and traveled by wisdom’s path.
So why was she stalking a witch—three witches to be exact?
The moon very rarely involved herself in the affairs of mortals, not that the witches were mortal by any means. But still.
Tales of the Babas Yaga had reached even her ears, and the tales she’d heard hadn’t been pretty. Of course, the tales had been little more than a jumbled mess of chicken feet, bottomless hunger, and flying mortars, so that might have accounted for some of the confusion. Although once a story made it to the stars, it was usually more distilled from the usual oddities.
Mortals were, if nothing else, inventive.
To be honest, the moon found herself more and more curious as each wisp of a tale made its way to her ears.
Curiosity was such an odd feeling. The mortals whose stories were painted across her sky were consumed with curiosity—a personal defect she’d always shaken her head at, but had never experienced.
Sorry about missing last Monday. Multi-day migraine + adrenal fatigue flare-up = flailing about the river that is Time and the current completely. If only life came with arm floaties. :)
This Monday will be a little different in that I'll only be posting the first half of the short story. The reason is this is basically an opening of sorts for the actual Curiosities that will contain 3-5 short stories along with other assorted goodies. On a regular Monday, I'll be posting a full short story from the Curiosity of the month. The full version of the Curiosities are only available to the people who have signed up for my newsletter, so if you're interested in what will amount to a free novel every month or two, (each Curiosity, save the first, will clock in at about 50,000 words--approx. 200 pages) click here to sign up.
*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my newsletter in accordance with COPPA laws*
Now, on to the story!
Once upon a time there was a flower who wanted to do more than stare out the window and stand reliably in her comfortable pot.
She wanted to fly.
Oh! To have wings she could stretch and unfurl! Wings that could take her wherever she wanted to go.
She would finally be able to see what waited beyond the path that curved round the hill. With wings she could explore the forest that loomed quietly to the west or talk to the fish that swam in lazy circles in the pond to the east.
As a wingéd flower, she would have a chance to find her fortune rather than waiting passively for the seasons to change, her stem to grow brittle, and her petals to fall one by one until all that was left of her was a few withered leaves and a crumpled face that had once been bright yellow.
Some flowers, you see, are remarkable creatures that die every few seasons, only to be born anew once more. Bigger. Stronger. Budding life on their previous lives and accumulating a sort of verdure venerability.
But our flower is a young flower who has only lived a total of two seasons. Three, if you are inclined to generosity and count the current season. Still, the drumbeat of the autumn pulsed up through her roots, into her stem, and rattled against each of her petals. Our flower knew, as all greenlife knows, that one’s own life was subject to the capricious whims of mortals, the ravenous appetites of birds, the occasional cat whose curiosity outweighs its good sense, and the rather flighty nature of the wind.
Just because one might live and die and live again, doesn’t mean one will.
More and more the little flower’s heart turned to the sky that hung prettily as the northern frame for the world.
“Wings,” she sighed. “All the world to find, if only I had a pair of wings!”
“Don’t be silly,” the bees buzzed as they flew past her window in yellow-streaked clouds of black. “Flowers aren’t born with wings. If they were, they wouldn’t be flowers—they’d be bees.”
The flower wrinkled her face. She didn’t want to be a bee, although she admired their bright little rapiers they belted round their middles. Bees, for all their glorious golden stripes and inky black spaces in between, were notoriously short-tempered and too busy working to dream.
And wings without dreams was drudgery.
Still . . .
“I should like very much to brush up against the sky, gently, so as not to wrinkle it, of course,” the flower murmured. Though she was an orphan, as many flowers are, she had an eternity of knowing stored—first in her seed, and then in her roots—and impeccable manners.
“Silly,” the squirrels chattered as they gathered up acorns from the oak tree growing just beyond her reach. “What would you want to touch the sky for? Better to stay down here where up is up and down is down, and you don’t sink from one to the other on accident. Besides, there are no nuts in the sky.”
“Still,” the little flower shrugged her leaves closer to the sunlight, “I should like to discuss the merits of water with the fish, say hello to my distant cousins in the forest, and see if the garden path is nearly as rocky as it looks.”
Of course the flower had tried to do all these things, wings or no wings. Birds are excellent gossips if one can keep their attention long enough. They were gracious messengers that carried conversations between the young flower and the school of minnows currently residing in the pond. But long-distance correspondence is an uncertain thing and wearying to a soul who would rather be speaking face to face than through bird.
“Be content in what you are,” the bluebirds advised as they sought out food for their young. “You may be stuck in one spot, but that spot is your own, and you don’t have to worry about another flower coming along and pushing you out of it.”
Our flower nodded and tucked away each piece of advice into a corner of her heart, but the urge to reach out and touch the sky would not be quieted, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
“You are of earth,” the oak tree murmured. “Dig your roots deep into the soil and find joy in the sunlight that warms your leaves, in the rain that strengthens your stem, and in the wind that ruffles through your petals.”
Chagrined, the flower bowed her head so the mighty oak would not see her blush. “I try,” she whispered. “And I am grateful. Truly, I am.”
And she was.
Her keeper kept her warm and comfortable, watered her, talked to her, and smiled at her sometimes for no reason the flower could ever discern.
But the luster of safe and the familiar tarnished a little more each day, until the flower’s head and leaves drooped beneath the weight of a single wish that quickly fractured from one into four:
To fly. To explore. To discover. To become.
Being a young flower, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to become yet, only that the need to do it burned like frozen sap in her veins. In this, our flower is not like many of the others. For they are content to rest in their places, so long as they have sunlight, soil, and water enough.
Perhaps the mortality of her keeper was contagious, infecting her as all mortals were with the need for more, no matter how much they already have. Mortals, you might already know, are an unsatisfied lot. It is the virtue and price for their mortality, and one that few other creatures shared.
But whatever the cause, the weight of the flower’s dream bent her back and dulled her petals.
The insects and animals continued to chide her on one hand and encourage her on the other. Her keeper said nothing, but a worry line etched itself on her brow whenever she glanced over at the small flower struggling to bloom on her windowsill.
This might have gone on until the flower’s petals withered to scraps of forgotten color and her leaves dried to wisps of bone, had not a faerie passed by the flower’s window one late autumn night.
The flower lifted her head to wonder at the crystalline wings arching away from the faerie’s shoulder blades. The wings caught the moonlight and fractured it into fragments of rainbow.
With a sigh, the flower dropped her head again.
What was the use? The birds and bees and squirrels and trees were right. She had no wings, and never would. It ought to have been in her nature to cling to the earth and feast on buttered sunshine, not to soar up against the sun and moon and stars.
“What ails you?” the faerie asked, her voice piping against the night. She hovered near the window, tiny hands grasping the sill as she peered inside. “All is well and good within.”
The flower’s cheeks went pink with shame. The faerie was right—all was good and well within. When the wind tugged too harshly, her keeper closed the shutters. When the frost came and a chill shivered through the air, her keeper would move her from the window to a comfortable spot near the hearth. When she grew thirsty, her keeper watered her. When bits and pieces of her grew brown and ragged, her keeper gently snipped them away.
Yet . . .
“Every day I stare out into the world,” the little flower said. Her wish trembled inside her heart, growing bigger and stronger from being spoken aloud. “I watch the clouds scuttle across the sky, watch the rains dance down upon the earth, and wonder what secrets the stars twinkle at each other every night.”
“You have a home, yet you are homesick,” the faerie said, wrinkling her brow.
The flower considered this.
“Yes.”
“My kind are free to wander the earth,” the faerie said, kneeling next to the simple clay pot that cradled the flower’s roots. “Yet, the more we linger, the more we fade. Our essence is not made for this place, and every moment reminds us that our true home is calling.”
“Why do you come here, then?” the little flower asked. She ducked her head, hoping she hadn’t offended the faerie with her question. Curiosity was not a trait much encouraged in plants.
The faerie stared out into the night, her wings glimmering with moonlight. “Because this place calls too.”
The flower stood a little taller, never before realizing how nice it felt to have someone understand. It wasn’t a comfortable place, this Between and Betwixt, but it was the only place she knew.
“I want to fly,” the flower said, hardly daring to feel the hope pulsing in a quiet shadow of her heart. “I want to explore. Discover. Become.”
“Ah,” the faerie said, turning her dark eyes bright with moonshine to the flower. “Wishes are dangerous things. They nibble at you, gently at first, until all you can feel is their hunger.”
The flower turned her gaze to the stars in silent rebellion. It didn’t matter if wishes had sharp edges and prickly corners. Didn’t matter if they started with warm smiles until they became all teeth. They were what they were, and once they’d lodged themselves in her heart, she had become part of the wish too.
To lose her wish would be to lose herself.
“I’ve a mind to grant your wish,” the faerie said, and her dark eyes flashed with a wish of her own. She placed a hand against the pot. “It must be nice being tucked in the earth and feasting on wind and rain and sunlight. Having someone care if you grow rough and ragged around the edges, and gathering you in against the chill of the frost and the burning of the sun.”
That had all been true before the flower had turned her eyes skyward and the wish had fallen into her heart.
“What will it cost?” the flower whispered.
The faerie frowned before answering. “Everything.”
“Will it—will it stop the ache?” Each day the wish cut a little deeper into her heart, deepening the pang until it followed her even into her dreams.
“No, but it will ease it.”
“Oh.” The flower’s petals drooped.
The faerie laughed, a tiny sound that cut to the flower’s center. “One form or another, it doesn’t matter to a wish. Each comes with its own set of joys and heartaches, but it is the only path to becoming. You cannot have one without the other.”
“Become what?” the flower asked, glad to have found an answer to this question at last.
The faerie slitted her eyes and glanced away. “That is entirely up to you.”
Well did the faerie know that becoming was a personal thing. For becoming is shaped by our wishes, the wants and dreams we tuck deep within our hearts and wrap in scraps of longing. Some we cradle and rock, while others we forget and neglect. But a wish, once wished, cannot be unwished. It finds purchase in our hearts and waits, remembering even when we forget.
The flower remained silent, but a thousand possibilities danced through her mind, each a bittersweet note to the famed piper’s song.
“Would you make the trade?” The faerie waved am arm, managing to include the cherrie-bright glow in the hearth, the windowsill, the world.
“How does it work?”
The faerie stood, fiery energy snapping through her, waiting to spring forth. “You have to want it more than everything else. More than comfort. More than fear. More than what is, for what could be.”
“All—all right.” Now that the moment had come, a feather of fear brushed against the little flower’s heart. But hope, burning glorious and bright, swept the fear back into the shadows.
“You will need a name,” the faerie said, folding her hands in her lap. “A name seals the bargain.”
The flower narrowed her eyes. Plants rarely indulged in the mortal practice of choosing a name. A name was a dangerous thing to a person who lived and died and lived again. A name was power. Power enough to destroy whole worlds when it wasn’t saving them.
She glanced at the sky again, a vast ocean she longed to fall into. “Kya.”
The faerie gave a brisk nod. “And mine is . . . Hearthorne.”
“Hearthorne,” the flower—now Kya—murmured. The name twisted oddly on her lips as though it was used to being more than a single thing, and wasn’t quite comfortable conforming. Yet, at the same time, the name rang true. Whatever else the faerie might have been called before, she was Hearthorne now, and it was now that mattered.
“And you must promise, a promise that binds you to both life and this realm.”
“What promise?” the Kya-flower asked. She could almost taste the dewey contours of the sky that dangled closer to her than they ever had before.
“Take me with you,” Hearthorne said. “When all is said and done, it is a selfish thing, but it is mine to ask and a condition of your wish.”
Kya closed her eyes, letting the possibility sink down to her longest, oldest roots.
“I will.”
Hearthorne took a deep breath, and a smile trembled on her lips. “Good. Then reach down to the deepest part of the soil and see what you find there.” Her voice echoed with the force of a magic that turned the Impossible into the Real.
The Dream into the Now.
As if to punctuate her meaning, a gust of wind rushed over them, tugging at the faerie’s hair until it had tangled in the flower’s petals. The leafy boughs of the trees shook against the wind’s breath, and a single leaf tumbled off a branch and into the faerie’s waiting hand as though it had been waiting all this time to do just that.
Meanwhile, Kya strained against the normally soft earth of her pot, seeking for whatever Hearthorne had left for her to find. Her roots stretched out until they brushed against something wrinkled and hard that held a thousand possibilities and more than a few more stories. Kya’s roots closed over it like fingers, tugging it up through the soil and into the night air.
“A walnut seed,” she said, surprised.
“Now crack it open,” Hearthorne directed.
“Crack it open?” Life beat within the shell, life that would be extinguished if she succeeded in opening the walnut. Hearthorne had said that she must be willing to give up everything, but surely—
Hearthorne gave her an enigmatic grin. “It’s not an ordinary seed. To grow, the plant must be willing to risk losing its protective covering. It’s safe place. The one place it knows.”
Kya thought back to the days when her seed had cradled her, looked after her, and eventually got to be too small for her. It had been, on the outside, a rather dull thing, but it had been magnificent—if cramped—on the inside.
“Cracking open the shell will hurt the greenlife inside. If it isn’t strong enough, it will die. It is the breaking through that gives the seed the strength to grow. To break the seed open before it is ready is not a kindness, and I am not cruel.”
Hearthorne’s eyes darkened until they matched the night sky. The faerie rested her hand lightly on one of the Kya-flower’s leaves.
“Then get ready.”
Hearthorne took a deep breath and blew something that shivered through Kya the way she imagined lightning must feel.
Then Hearthorne, the window, the stars, the world—it all vanished.
Panic beat through Kya’s heart, drops of rain pounding out the shape of her fears. She was bent in half in utter darkness, and something she couldn’t see pressed against her from all sides. She poked tentatively at her prison with her roots, feeling the hard shape of the darkness. As a picture began to emerge, fear folded into amazement.
It couldn’t be!
And yet our flower found herself moving gently along with the sudden quietness of a song that was all at once foreign, and yet heartbreakingly familiar.
Though Hearthorne had simply repeated the words Kya herself had spoken earlier, something within the words had changed from hungry longing to a direct order.
“Where are we?” Kya asked as she considered whether or not to follow Hearthorne’s order. Her dream was a far bigger place than she’d ever imagined, and she wanted to be sure.
“You know where we are.”
That she did, though it had been a long time since she’d pushed aside her own seed in favor of sunlight and room to grow.
Fear, however, did not want to give in so easily. It twisted itself around her, stroked her leaves, and reminded her of all that was.
“I am not of Walnut,” Kya tried again, pressing against the sides of the seed tentatively with her head. “The seed will not open for me.”
Hearthorne shifted beside her. “Here, in this place, you can be whatever you need to be. You just have to want to be badly enough.”
“I-I can’t be a tree,” Kya whispered as her fears tightened their hold. “I’ve always been a flower. That is what I am at my center. I can’t change that.”
Though they were both cocooned in darkness, Kya felt Hearthorne smile beside her, an unsettling smile that was all sharp teeth.
“You don’t have to change,” Hearthorne said lightly. “You can remain the same, so long as you are content to have traded the taste of freedom you had before with the safety this seed provides. The binding has been cast, the seal has been made, the promise given. What is done is done, and there can be no going back.”
First up: four awesome authors that are up next (today) on the #MyWritingProcess blog hop. I've read each of them, and adore them all. :)
Katharina Gerlach Award winning author Katharina Gerlach writes speculative fiction for the middle grade and young adult audience in two languages, English and German. When she's not busy writing or promoting, she organizes the crazy life of a family with three t(w)eens, a dog and a husband (for obvious reasons, the best is mentioned last).
Angie Lofthouse went to college with every intention of becoming a particle physicist, but through a series of misadventures, found herself studying Shakespeare instead. After college she combined her love of science and her love of words into a science fiction writing career. Her short stories have appeared in numerous online and print magazines and anthologies. Her sci-fi adventure novel, Defenders of the Covenant, was released in 2012, and the sequel, The Ransomed Returning, in 2014. She lives in a little canyon in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains with her family of writers, artists, singers, composers, illustrators and musicians.
Dave Butler Dave is a novelist living in the Rocky Mountain west. His training is in law, and he worked as a securities lawyer at a major international firm and inhouse at two multinational semiconductor manufacturers before setting up in solo practice. Now he makes his living primarily as a corporate trainer, teaching business acumen to employees of large corporate clients. Dave is a lover of language and languages, a guitarist and self-recorder, and a serious reader. He has been writing fiction since 2010. He writes speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, space opera, steampunk, cyberpunk, superhero, alternate history, dystopian fiction, horror and related genres) for all audiences. He has a forthcoming steampunk fantasy series for middle grade readers (Knopf, Spring 2016) and in the meantime has several self-published projects. His steampunk novel City of the Saints was a finalist for the Whitney Award in speculative fiction in 2012.
Brisbane author Charmaine Clancy loves to create characters for mystery, fantasy and adventure. All her stories are fictional, except maybe MY ZOMBIE DOG (some say to this day you can hear her dog softly moan the plea ‘braaaains’). Charmaine was born the year man walked on the moon, and if more aware of the event, she probably would have thought it was a great setting for a murder. She grew up in the big city of Sydney. Her early school reports advised disapprovingly that she was always ‘daydreaming’. Obviously her teachers did not recognise and value the art of plotting. Despite this feedback, Charmaine loved studying and would later go on to University to gain her BA in Professional and Creative Writing. When not explaining the dangers of underestimating a fairy or the best spots to hide a body, Charmaine runs creative writing courses for kids and is now hosting online workshops. Her books include My Zombie Dog, Dognapped? A Dog Show Detective Mystery and soon to be released, Undead Kev. She loves all things Agatha Christie and is often watching those around her with suspicious eyes; on the off chance they ever do commit a cleverly devised crime.
I would normally be posting a short story today (more about that in a moment), but today I'm participating in a blog hop. I'd like to thank my friend and mentor/sage of storytelling David Farland/Wolverton for inviting me. He posted about his process last week. Dave's official bio is pretty awesome. He is an award-winning, NYT bestselling author who has written close to 50 SFF books for both children and adults. (The Runelords series are among some of his most well known books.) He also teaches classes on writing and editing which is where I met him. He is a gifted teacher and I heartily recommend taking his courses if you can or read his craft books if you can't. He also has a "Kick in the Pants" newsletter he sends out that is full of writing/editing gold. I'm really enjoying the series he's doing right now dissecting less than stellar openings and how to make them better.
“We writers share these things, but informally during workshops and at conferences (and, for a handful of established writers, in printed interviews), but not so much through our open-forum blogs. With the hashtag #MyWritingProcess, you can learn how writers all over the world answer the same four questions. How long it takes one to write a novel, why romance is a fitting genre for another, how one’s playlist grows as the draft grows, why one’s poems are often sparked by distress over news headlines or oddball facts learned on Facebook… “
What am I working on? This hop came around at a perfect time, because I'm finally ready to announce something I've been working on over the last couple of months: The Curious Leaf.
What is The Curious Leaf exactly?
It's a monthly collection of short stories and other fun stuff related to my novels. At least that's how it started. It was going to be simple at first. Pick a fairy tale/theme. Retell the fairy tale and add in two or three short stories that follow the theme of the fairy tale. And yay!
But as I thought on it, I wanted to add more so it was more like a magazine. So I figured out how to incorporate features from characters and series in the novels I've already written, as well as adding in a serial I'll be putting out on a monthly basis. The Curious Leaf would be a ship that had a hull made of half a walnut shell and sails made of bright red maple leaves. It would be captained by a girl who later became Kya. I thought I'd just have a page or so at the beginning of the magazine, sort of like an editor's note only written by the slightly fictitious Kya as she explored new realms and lands.
I had almost finished the first volume (releasing next month) when I realized Kya needed more than just a short intro. So I wrote an extra short story The Curious Leaf: An Adventure in Wishing that delves into who Kya is and how she came in possession of a faerie ship. (Releasing this in a week.) It was about here that Kya informed me in no uncertain terms that she would be having an adventure every issue, so I'd need to add a Curious Leaf feature to the magazine.
This is what I get for meeting my deadlines. :/
So I added her feature--she'd sweetened the deal by giving me the last line of The Curious Leaf :An Adventure in Wishing first--and ended up with the very first curiosity: CURIOSITIES OF THE MOON. It ended up looking like this:
Kya's first adventure, which was naturally a trip to the moon.
The main fairy tale is a quirky little story called The Buried Moon that I've retold.
So You Want to be a Faerie? is a short comic featuring Thorn and Cherrie from my novel BITTEN.
Moonflower is a short story introducing a character whose story I've already written and is awaiting edits.
A Character Interview with the moon from my TALES OF THE SNOW QUEEN.
Moon Bait, a short story featuring the moon from my TALES OF THE SNOW QUEEN.
Ask Nerissa is a fairy tale advice column.
Moonbright is a short story from the time during which Nerissa was a wicked faerie in APPLESPELL.
The Highly Secret, Very Important Musings of a Fairy Stepsister is a journal kept by none other than Bettony from THE TROUBLE WITH TOADS. (I'm hard at work on the sequel that explains how she went from magical mishap to championing stepsisters as a sort of fairy godmother. This post explains why it's taken so long for me to put it out.
Mira Morganstein: Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae, Tale 1 is my serial featuring the girl who one day becomes queen over all the nearly dead fae in the realm. (Not as zombieish as this sounds. They aren't quite dead. Just mostly.)
From the Files of Bodkins is a file that features creatures introduced during the current installment of Mira Morganstein:Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae.
And last, but not least, a sneak peek into whatever I'm working on. In this case, it's THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC. (Sequel to The Trouble With Toads.)
I wanted to find a way to thank my newsletter subscribers and this is it. Each month, I'll be sending out a link so you can claim a free copy of the Curiosity of the month in PDF form. The free version will be slightly different than the copy I'll be uploading to Amazon et al. in that the new software I'm using to format ebooks doesn't allow for images yet, so the published copies won't have any illustrations I do, nor will they contain the So You Want to be a Faerie? comic. I'll also be posting 3-4 short stories from the curiosity a month on my blog. (Mondays.)
There you have it. The Curiosities of the Moon is going through edits at the moment, and will be released on the last day of each month. (Or two.) I'm also working on THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC and am hard at work on the second Curiosity: Salt Water Curiosities.
How does my work differ from others of its genre? One of my favorite things about writing for children is that it's my job to remember how to see the world through a child's eyes. There is a whole galaxy of worlds out there just waiting to be discovered. Worlds that run parallel to ours, while others are all topsy turvy. And that's what is at the heart of everything I write: different worlds, wonder, enchantment, and people. I haven't yet been able to write solemn fiction, so there is plenty of humor in most everything that I write. I also try to tell stories that appeal to any age so long as you've got your wonder intact. :D
Why do I write what I do? This is a lot like asking why I breathe or why I still can't remember which way is left or right. These stories are as much a part of who I am as my hands, my heart, or my social awkwardness. At the center of each story is a seed of truth or a question that beats in the chest of each of my characters. Stories were what kept me alive as a child in a very literal way, so it's only natural that I've got a lot of them bouncing around my bicuspid valve, ventricles, and coursing through my veins.
How does my writing process work? In my brain, there are two rooms: my conscious and my subconscious. They are separated by a wall I haven't ever managed to breach. Shadowy figures slip under the crack of the door and seep in through the vents in my subconscious room. I have no idea what they do in there or what it looks like, but in time, a fully formed person steps out of my subconscious and knocks politely on the door leading to my conscious room where I sit with a donut in one hand and the fingers of my other hand resting on a dusty typewriter. (Actually, few ever knock politely. Mostly they crash through the door making all sorts of outlandish demands and waving a Story in my face. A choice few saunter over to me, snatch my donut, and smirk at me as they slip back into my subconscious.)
As a storyteller, I can't resist. So I drop my donut and start typing. While I'm doing that, the character stands very still so I can slip under their skin and into their shoes. So long as I do this, the Story hums along merrily. If I ever forget myself and try to impose my own ideas, I find myself smacking into the floor where I rub the goose egg on my head and glare balefully up at Story who regards me with crossed arms and a look that would rust iron.
In my writing process there are Boundaries and I do my best to keep within them so I can keep listening to that lovely song of Story unfurling from my typewriter in the most interesting colors.
This, of course, is seen only by me. If you were to observe me at work, you would find me with glazed eyes typing away at my laptop as fast as my fingers can fly. Every so often a Story point will need clarification, so I pause the narrative and fire up Google. Unless I'm seeping into a new culture, I generally do my research as need arises. There are also times when you might see me, fingers still, gaze perplexed, muttering at my screen. It is usually at such times that I have crossed a Boundary and have to backtrack to where I stopped listening to my source. Mostly, though, I type. Stop and listen. Type some more. Repeat. Often, I have to prioritize, so the loudest stories are the ones that get told first.
So there you have it. You're in for a treat next week. I haven't heard back yet from all the authors I've contacted, but once I do, I'll update this page as well as write a new post detailing the who's and where you can find them. :)
*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my mailing list*
0 Comments on #MyWritingProcess as of 6/9/2014 6:43:00 PM
*surreptitiously wipes dust off corners of this blog* *sneezes*
I'm happy to say that I'm pretty sure I'm going to be back to blogging regularly. Last year is a post in and of itself, but the good news is I've figured out how to manage my health issues, discovered what they were, and am recovering. :)
I'm really excited for this year, even though it's just about halfway over. O.O
But first, a few items of business:
I've planned and mapped out the bonus newsletter subscriber content and will be rolling out the first of many within a week. Just finalizing the edits before the final proofing pass and then I'll have it out to you. There will be more information about this on Monday, but there's still time to subscribe and get the first free short story. A few days after I send it to my subscribers, I'll be publishing it to Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and the iBookstore for $0.99. Click here to subscribe.*
Whatever happened to the sequel to THE TROUBLE WITH TOADS? It was nearly finished last year, and only needed a few thousand more words. But. I realized that just as I was about to cross the finish line, I'd written down the wrong story. *facepalm* The story I'd written is a good story, it's just not the *right* story for my STEPSISTER series. So I scrapped it and started over, keeping my finger on the pulse of the story that is meant to be THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC. I could have published the story as it was and kept true to the dates I'd announced, but you (my readers) deserve absolutely the best I can give you. And the story I'd written wasn't it. I apologize for the delay, and will be posting chapters of the new story once a week or so. Depending on if I'm able to finish the chapter that week to my satisfaction.
I'm discontinuing my Request a Review Copy program, and will instead make ARCs available free of charge to my newsletter subscribers. Too many irons in the fire right now, so I'm working to streamline and simplify.
I have a number of books in the pipeline, but will be holding off on announcing release dates until they're about ready to be released. As last year proved to me, it's all too easy for life to go off the rails when you least expect it, so it's better to remain mum until I've 100% positive I can deliver.
New blogging stuff: I'll be cross posting to this blog for a while, but am going to be phasing this blog out in favor of blogging directly on my website once I get my website blog up and running. On that note, I'll also be transitioning the blog content away from writing and focusing on books, fairy tales, releasing short stories, and anything else that catches my whimsy. In short, it will be more of an author-type blog than writing or publishing.
And now, on to the actual post. :D
What are you all reading?
I'm juggling about 70 books right now, but the one I'm focusing on right now is Catherynne Valente's THE GIRL WHO SOARED OVER FAIRY LAND AND CUT THE MOON IN TWO. This is the third book in the Fairy Land series, and I'm really enjoying it even though I think the second book is my very favorite. I held off reading this one for a while, because unlike the first two, this book is not a contained adventure and ends on a bit of a cliffhanger. Not a horrible cliffhanger, in my opinion, but the ending is very open. (Yes, I try to know how a book ends before I begin reading it. :p)
While the series is MG, it definitely has an all-age appeal if you like wonder and magic and a wry sense of humor. :D
So what about you? Any good reads you're enjoying?
*You must be 13 or older to sign up for my newsletter to remain in accordance with COPPA laws. I will not spam you. If I don't have anything to announce, I won't send out any emails. In general, I send no more than one email a month.
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This year, more than FIFTY AUTHORS of fantasy and paranormal books are giving away books and swag. Hope you’re ready to start clicking and start winning because the Rafflecopter awaits!
Giveaway runs until October 31st...plenty of time to get all your entries in...
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. . . because some Celtic stories won’t be contained in myth. A little magic has always run in sixteen-year-old McKayla McCleery's family—at least that’s what she’s been told. McKayla’s eccentric Aunt Avril travels the world as a psychic for the FBI, and her mother can make amazing delicacies out of the most basic of ingredients. But McKayla doesn't think for a second that the magic is real—it’s just good storytelling. Besides, McKayla doesn’t need magic. She recently moved to beautiful Star Valley, Wyoming, and already she has a best friend, a solo in her upcoming ballet recital—and the gorgeous guy in her physics class keeps looking her way.
When an unexpected fascination with Irish dance leads McKayla to seek instruction from the mute, crippled janitor at her high school, she learns that her family is not the only one with unexplained abilities. After Aunt Avril comes to Star Valley in pursuit of a supernatural killer, people begin disappearing, and the lives of those McKayla holds most dear are threatened.
When the janitor reveals that an ancient curse, known as a geis, has awakened deadly powers that defy explanation, McKayla is forced to come to terms with what is real and what is fantasy. A thrilling debut novel based in Celtic mythology, Awakening is a gripping young adult fantasy rife with magic, romance, and mystery.
Praise for Awakening
"AWAKENING is a wonder and a delight. Christy Dorrity is a talent to watch." ~David Farland, New York Times bestselling author of Nightingale
"I thoroughly enjoyed AWAKENING, a captivating and unique debut novel that creatively integrates Irish dance." ~ CHRIS NAISH, Riverdance member and Creative Director of Fusion Fighters Irish dancers.
About the Author Christy Dorrity lives in the mountains with her husband, five children, and a cocker spaniel. She grew up on a trout ranch in Star Valley, Wyoming, and is the author of The Geis series for young adults, and The Book Blogger’s Cookbooks. Christy is a champion Irish dancer and when she’s not reading or writing, she’s probably trying out a new recipe in the kitchen.
Purchase Awakening by Christy Dorrity:
0 Comments on Awakening Blog Tour Featuring Christy Dorrity as of 1/1/1900
I'd like to thank Mikey Brooks for inviting me to take part in the Children's Writers Blog Hop. You can find his post here as well as links to four other awesome authors that are part of this round of the hop.
Now, onto the questions:
1. What are you working on right now?
Right now I'm working on the sequel to my MG fairy tale fantasy THE TROUBLE WITH TOADS that is tentatively titled as THE TROUBLE WITH (fill-in-the-blank). TOADS began the story of Bettony, an ugly stepsister who wasn't about to sit back and accept the fate common to all ugly/wicked stepsisters. Namely: a quick and sudden demise or a long life filled with drudgery and unhappiness. For Bettony, the solution is magic. Unfortunately, magic is also the problem.
In the sequel, Bettony not only has to wrangle with her magic, which has a distressing tendency to have a mind of its own, but she also has to navigate Society with its Rules of Propriety, formal balls, and coming to terms with who she truly is inside--magic, warts, and all.
I'm also dabbling with the sequel to OF WIND AND WINTER. OF FIREBIRDS AND FROST picks up right where WINTER left off with Aneira--the future Snow Queen--trying to find her place in a world when she is neither completely mortal nor quite immortal.
2. How does it differ from other works in its genre?
My books--in general, and this series specifically--are a mix of old and new. Same and different. All of them, so far, have fairy tale elements and tropes woven through. A few are re-tellings with a twist (The Fairy Godmother Dilemma series; the third book in the Tales of the Snow Queen series), but the rest are original tales with threads of fairy tales woven through.
My Secret Stepsister Society series (THE TROUBLE WITH TOADS, THE TROUBLE WITH (fill-in-the-blank)) is different in that it's from the ugly stepsister's point of view. Not only that, but the ugly stepsister is the heroine and the premise of the series is that even ugly/wicked stepsisters ought to have at least a shot at having a Happily Every After. Because, really, what does it say about society if only the obedient and beautiful are deserving of happiness? (Not to mention that *technically* even Cinderella was a stepsister.)
3. Why do you write what you do?
Writing what I do, to me, is the purest form of being myself. I write the stories busily spinning themselves in my self-conscience. I write at an MG level because that is the age range I most love. Kids are bright and intelligent, inquisitive, and open to the possibilities of What Could Be (No Matter How Unlikely).
The stories that make it into the world are stories that grabbed hold of me and didn't let go. They're different parts of me thinking through questions I might have, experimenting with ideas, and in general Things I'm Trying to Figure Out.
4. How does your writing process work?
For me, a story always begins with either the premise or the character. More often, it begins with a character. I'll get a faint wisp of the character--an expression, their voice, a bit of back story, or a thread of what's going on in their lives right now--that grabs hold of me and won't let go.
Literally.
My sub-conscious mind is where all the story making happens. Plots are woven, characters fleshed out, and ideas created. My conscious brain is only there is so far as it keeps me upright and my fingers moving. My brain rarely allows me the courtesy of peering behind the curtain into my sub-conscious, so I generally have no idea what I'm going to write even as I'm writing it. :)
I've learned early on that if I try to interfere with the Story (i.e. sit down and plot or write what I think ought to happen), I end up with writer's block. So I sit down as often as I can--during nap time and after the chipmunks are tucked snug in their beds--and just allow myself to write.
Me again. Because I evidently slipped on the Time-Space Continuum, I don't yet have the links to the authors I'll be tagging. >.< I will have the links posted next Monday on my blog. And because I always love finding new kidlit authors, if you're one or know of some awesome kidlit authors, let me know in the comments below. :)
PS: If you have sent an email and/or book request, I probably got it. Due to a Real Life Avalanche I'm still dealing with, on top of expecting another chipmunk, I'm massively behind on my general behindedness. I apologize for the inconvenience, and will be getting through the emails/requests as quickly as I can. Thanks for your patience!
3 Comments on Children's Writers Blog Hop, last added: 9/12/2013
Before I get to the details of the ebook sales, I wanted to say thank you first.
Over the last two days, my husband threw me a surprise book bomb for The Trouble With Toads. I'd been (and still am) dealing with some health issues related to adrenal fatigue and morning sickness (if by morning sickness you mean all day, every day, until the baby is born), so when he asked for permission to throw the book bomb, I said sure. My expectations were low, because my online activities only get whatever energy I have left after taking care of my kidlets, and I really haven't had much of any to spare for a number of months. I also tend to write a book, get it put together, publish it, and forget about it. And since I'm working on TOADS 2, TOADS 1 was already a distant memory. :D
Imagine my surprise when I checked my book page periodically and found the ranking going down, down, down, and down some more. We topped out at #7,752 in the paid Kindle Store overall last night.
I say we, because I couldn't have done this on my own. So I wanted to publicly thank everyone for their support, whether it was to purchase TOADS, to help spread the word, or whatever other wonderful things you've been doing. I truly appreciate each and every one of you and have treasured your support, words of encouragement, and friendship.
Thank you. :)
As for the book sale, even though I raised TOADS back up to $2.99, Amazon has decided to keep it on sale (67% off) at $0.99. This is a win-win for everyone. Thank you for helping to make that happen!
Now, onto the book sale stuff. Beyond the 30 awesome Tween reads that are on sale for $0.99 through Friday, a couple of my other books are on sale, as well as some Kindle deals for some other awesome books:
I am part of a 99 cent eBook sale taking place this week, Monday-Friday (June17-21). Check out these great books that will ALL BE JUST $.99 EACH!! Reads for Tweens:
I've been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to change my newsletter (the regular one--not the one that's for new book releases only) so that it offers more value to you. Because that's where I want the focus of my newsletter to be.
I'm going to be doing some experimenting here and there, but no worries. I don't plan on sending out the newsletter any more often than I do now. (Currently, this is generally 0-1 times a month.)
What I'm going to be doing is changing up content and that sort of thing. Looking at what seems to be working (I'll be judging this by the number of clicks and/or other stats. Or, if you're so inclined, you can let me know through email. :)) and what isn't, and modify from there.
My first official experiment is offering subscribers (to the regular newsletter, not the one for new releases) weekly sneak peaks at what I'm working on. A.K.A. The Next Release.
How This Works Part 1 When I send out the newsletter, I'll include a password that will allow only my subscribers to access the content. I'll also include the link. This is what it will look like: (click here). All you have to do is copy and paste the password into the box. The only time I'll change the password is when I change books, so you won't have to worry about keeping track of whatever fiendish combinations I come up with. >:)
I'll post a new chapter weekly, replacing the old one with a new one. I'll do this until I'm ready to send the files to my editor. At that point, I'll remove the last chapter I posted. This will not necessarily be the last chapter in the novel. In fact, there's a good chance it won't be. *knock on wood*
Once I've sent the file to my editor, I'll then compile e-ARCs that will only be available to my subscribers, and only available to those subscribers who request one. By this point, you should have a good idea of whether or not you'd like to read more. Also, you'll need to know how to side load the files to whichever e-reader you have if you want to read it. I don't know how to side load most e-readers, so I won't be able to be any help to you there.
And then rinse and repeat. :)
How This Works Part 2: A Word About ARCs The nature of an ARC is to act as a pre-promotional tool. I will be looking at providing the e-ARCs to those who are interested and who would also be willing to post a review when the book officially launches.
The review doesn't have to be long, written a certain way, or positive. All I ask is that it's honest and posted within that time frame. (You'll have a 1-2 month window.) (Also, I realize life happens sometimes. So if it does, don't stress about the review.) (Also, also, I've made a habit of *not* reading my reviews, because the reviews really aren't for me. They're for other readers to use when determining whether or not they're likely to enjoy the book. So no worries there. :))
Why This Particular Experiment? Mostly because this will dovetail perfectly with another experiment I'll be announcing in a special newsletter I'll be sending out tomorrow. O:) Any and all experiments of this nature will only be mentioned in my newsletters and nowhere else. Not even this blog. I may come up with blog related experiments later on, but for now I'm going to focus on Subscriber Experiments.
So.
I'm officially announcing the First Official Experiment now*. The chapters that will be available (on a chapter-by-chapter basis) will be the sequel to The Trouble With Toads. I don't have a cover for it yet, but this is what the first one looks like:
So if this is something you might be interested in, the subscribe button is down below this. The reason why I'm bringing this up now is because I'll be posting the first chapter tomorrow and only sending out the one newsletter on Saturday. This way, those who are interested won't miss the first couple of chapters as they would if they sign up after tomorrow. :) (I'll post new chapter alerts on my FB author page, through twitter, and on this blog, but I won't clog your inbox by sending alerts via email.)
* The First Official Experiment Part 2 will likely involve your help coming up with the title for the sequel. There will likely be a papery sort of reward if I choose your title. O:)
I do not sell or share your email addresses, and I send this newsletter out about once a month. Due to COPPA laws, by signing up, you are signifying that you're either 18 years or older or that your parent/guardian--who is 18 or older--is signing up for you.
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To celebrate the recent release of The Trouble With Toads as well as to prepare for the upcoming blog tour, stop by for your chance to win a $50 Amazon Gift Card or PayPal Cash!
The giveaway is hosted by I Am A Reader, Not A Writer. Click here to be taken to the giveaway.
Best of luck!
Once upon a time a young girl wanted revenge. But first, she wanted to be beautiful. Twelve-year-old Bettony has read enough stories that begin with once upon a time to know what happens to the ugly stepsisters at the end, and she’s determined to escape that fate by any means necessary—even by magic. Unfortunately, when it comes to magic, there is no place for regret, refunds, or exchanges. Even if you accidentally turn your older sister into a toad. If Bettony wants her happily ever after to end well, she’s going to have to find a way to turn her sister back into a person before their mother finds out she’s been dabbling with magic and grounds her for life. And if she wants to do that, she’s going to need more magic. Tracking down the family magic turns out to be surprisingly easy. Now, if only it came with instructions . . .
PS: Apologies to any of you who purchase Nook books. I am in the process of transitioning over to NookPress and the transition is taking a lot longer than I anticipated. So while The Trouble With Toads isn't yet available on Barnes and Noble, I'm hoping to have it up within a week. *crosses fingers* Once that happens, I'll be able to upload my other books as well. :) PPS: Apologies also to any who read through iBooks. I hope to have all my books available in the iBookstore by the end of this year or the beginning of next.
0 Comments on $50 Book Blast Giveaway - The Trouble With Toads as of 1/1/1900
I'm excited to announce that Of Wind and Winter (Tale 1 of the Snow Queen) is now available on Amazon. (I'm experimenting, and put it in the Kindle Select program. What this means: for the next 90 days, it will only be available digitally on Amazon. After that, it will be available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and iTunes.)
Of Wind and Winter is the first out of four in the Tales of the Snow Queen series. Tales two and three will be released this year, with the fourth coming out in early 2014.
Of Wind and Winter
When Aneira awakens to find she has been sprited away into the night by none other than the dread witch Baba Yaga, she is faced with a choice: help Baba Yaga find her sisters' magical skins and Aneira can go home to her family or refuse to help and lose her mother and sisters forever.
The task is simple. She just has to steal the Lord of Winter’s heart by lulling him to sleep with the Harp of the Seven Winds. Once she has it, all Aneira has to do is lock it in a magic jar Baba Yaga gives her. After that, she’s free to go home.
The only way to obtain the harp, however, is to succeed at the three tasks set forth by the winds themselves—winds that are bent on protecting the harp from mortal hands at all costs.
But stealing the Lord of Winter’s heart turns out to be more complicated than Aneira realized, and she must decide whether returning to her family is worth the price of the world losing Winter forever. If you would like to be notified of this, and other new releases, please consider signing up for my newsletter.
0 Comments on New Book Release: Of Wind and Winter (Tale 1 of the Snow Queen) as of 1/1/1900
Oh wow I write the same as you! Subconscious is where the story comes from. I just try to keep up and get the words down.
You're so dang attractive, Danyelle, you may even get MOI to believe in fairies, @ least for awhile.
Stay on groovin' safari,
Tor
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