Yup, that’s 30k you see there.

I did take some time this past week and got out of my office (!!!) and saw people (!!!!). I am very lucky to have gotten to reconnect with a very dear friend of mine that I hadn’t gotten to see in more years than I want to put a number to- and while chatting about how the book was going, I realized that this is something new to me. While I’ve always had an outline of which direction the wind was ablowin’, it was never something I could articulate with the level of detail that I can here. I’m typically good at beginning, middle, end, and end up wandering around a bit to let the characters tell me how they are going to get there.

Because the basis of this book is so different, and I get to write in so many voices, it’s a completely different experience. In the past 18 days, I’ve been a faerie queen, trapped in the body of a horse, a pair of wise guys, a cranky old Russian woman, and a few others that we’ll talk about later.

So far, while I’ve done more research for this book than any other I’ve written, I’m also having an absolute blast writing it.

And the folks that have gotten snippets of this or that have been wonderfully complimentary- for which I am deeply thankful, sometimes to the point of tears.

Writing is lonely. If you think about it a certain way, it’s a long conversation I’m having with the people that live in my head. To know that other people want to hear from them, too, is incredibly validating… like I’m not wasting all of this time and energy and imagination to no purpose- that the story will be heard.

Thank you to everyone who’s been listening lately. I love you all and couldn’t do what I’m doing without your support.

 

Sorry so quiet, I’ve been a busy girl indeed.

 

How we began-

 

In the beginning, or at least, when we began, there was already light. We were of it, bathed by it, made flesh or fancy as the whim took us.

 

And She who spawned us from the void was pleased with us, and gave us her blessing. “Go and bring wonder onto that which He creates.”

 

It was then that we realized there was a He, who very much had his own agenda. He had forgotten his help meet, the one that had labored with him to bring forth his world the moment that world came to exist.

 

Of mischief, His children have said we were born, and who is to say they are entirely wrong? For how could we be otherwise, we who have our Mother’s blessings still echoing in our ears? And their fear and fury when they found we could not be banished, that Her light is always upon His world one way or another- by sun, by moon, by starlight, any of it and all of it is enough to sustain our people. But I am getting ahead of the story, for His children came long and long after we had already lain eyes and feet and souls down upon the wonder of the world.

 

So first after we were born and began roaming the earth, it came to pass that some of us embraced the warmth and bright of the sun, and became the Court of Day. Others were enchanted by the dim shadows and cool of the evening and played by the light of the moon and stars, and became the Court of Night.

 

And so it was that with every touch of our feet to the earth, we felt anew the blessing of the Mother, and created wonders without thought or care, blithely as children. In time, we brought forth children of our own, though rarely in vast numbers, so we learned to cherish the few that appeared.

 

In time, we began to encounter the Father’s Children, who regarded us at first with fear, then sometimes with awe or envy. Some of our kind chose to go among them as equals, other played at divinity or deviltry as it suited their mood. Magic, they called our gifts, and some were wise enough to nurture friendships where they could.

 

Try as we might, the one thing we couldn’t seem to do is leave one another alone- even fae that preferred the solitary life couldn’t help themselves when the opportunity to interact with humans came along.

 

Of course, the best part of history, of anything at all, are the tales. And when you combine faekind with human kind, there are always tales.

 

I have spent more time than I care to figure up chasing these tales- I’ve performed great labors, been tricked into servitude, embarked on grand quests and adventures, suffered the loss of dear friends and loves, righted grievous wrongs, and I did it all with only one goal in mind.

 

Being able to tell the stories, to make my poor attempt at fitting them into the frame to form a vast, sweeping picture.

 

Will I ever tell my tales? Well, that remains to be seen.

 

So there we were, two very dissimilar species, poised in the relationship that continues to define us- Fae as the older sibling, Man as the younger child seeking to understand and enforce their will upon us by making us fit into their concept of rules.

 

It was that very penchant that gave rise to one of the neverending sources of entertainment for faekind- making deals. Once honor came around to being a general concept, fae were entranced with (in true older brother I will do everything the best manner) keeping their word. Folded, spindled, and mutilated at times, but always to the perfect letter, if not spirit, of the agreement. We’ll see that as a recurrent theme as we go along here.

 

I want to point out that some of the tales I’m about to tell may sound familiar, courtesy of those dastards Grimm and Disney. You may want to argue with me about truthiness or whatever it is you folk call it these days.

 

To that, I would remind you that the heart of every tale has three if not five sides. The only angle that I have is to understand my own people and the wondrous, astounding scope of history of this world.

 

In short, carp if you like, I’ll be over here on the high road. You paid for it, so keep reading or don’t, it’s all the same to me.

 

Getting on with it- this is one of the earliest tales I was able to procure, through great personal peril.

 

Be you fae or man, the sparks of life within some burn brighter than others. And for all the gifts we’ve been given to create, enchant, bemuse, for foresight… only with very painful lessons do we learn to temper the fires of passion with the knowledge of regret.

 

To help you understand, let us turn to the tale of the Lady in the Tower.

I want to make it clear- I am only telling this story because I lost a bet with the most annoying little man you have ever laid eyes on. And he nagged and nagged and nagged and then, if you can believe it, he threatened to hex me! The nerve, I tell you.

 

Always I have kept to myself, and I think there is no crime in it. If someone trespasses upon my doorstep, especially if that someone isn’t one of our kind, I see no harm in using them for my entertainment. Or maybe my dinner. What’s it to you? Not like it was your child, for I am sure anyone that reads this would teach their children better than to go bothering the old hermit woman what lives in a hut standing on chicken legs.

 

What? It was what I had in plenty and usually people are smart enough to be a little off put and then we all come out a little more fortunate for the day.

 

Once, centuries ago, there was a girl who was not taught her manners and had little in the way of common sense. So it was to my door she came begging, for a flame, because boo hoo hoo, her mean stepmother had left them only a single candle and that candle went out and left them all in the dark.

 

I ask you, who doesn’t see through those kinds of shenanigans?

 

It happened that I had some chores that wanted doing, and I am sometimes more curious than I ought to be. Maybe, I think, if this pretty little girl is not smart enough to avoid my home, maybe it is because she is strong or brave.

 

So I set her to the tasks, and wait to see how she copes. If she is smart, maybe I keep her, like a pet. I am no queen that is needing of a court, but having a mortal about can be useful from time to time.

 

Many tasks I set her to, and for days and days she does them, almost like she has a magic of her own. Maybe she is not so smart, but someone is doing her thinking for her, and I began to think that it is that someone I would like to know. I think, too, maybe it is another one of my kind trying to drive me out of my comfortable place and claim it for themselves, so I am being especially cautious to hide my secrets.

 

In the meantime, all of the things that would take me time are getting done, and I am able to go further into my woods, where the deeper magics lie. I cast the bones of foresight, and see that this stupid little pretty girl will someday be a queen of her own kind.

 

Well! That started the wheels turning in my head, mostly about how blind men are. Then I used the bones to look backward and the whole story came clear. The girl’s father was a fool chasing after a fortune to satisfy a bottomless pit of a woman who drove his child out of his home. But all to no good, for the girl, she had a powerful protection. That piece of the puzzle took some time to figure out- it was her mother, half a fae herself, stuck in a wooden stick in her daughter’s pocket that was trying to save her child.

 

Now, the charitable thing to do would have been to spirit the stick away from the girl and set the mother free into a new body. The wise thing to do would have been to take the stick and use the mother as a slave.

 

Over and over I went back and forth, thinking one way and then another. And why would I rush, anyway? The chores were getting done, I was getting good work done, no need to be hasty. Almost in spite of myself, I started to grow fond of the girl, and to admire the mother that never considered her work done as long as her child was in danger.

 

Yes, I can be a little sentimental from time to time, try not to be so surprised.

 

So, in time, when I had reached a good stopping point in my greater work, I gave the mother back the form of flame. It’s so close to spirit anyway that it didn’t take much anyway, and a good thing, too. While not quite as stupid as her daughter, she came very close. When I bade the girl to take the flame and begone, the stupid girl went home again! And her stupid mother burned up the bad stepmother and stepsisters, which don’t get me wrong, was a very good start.

 

Then stricken with horror at her actions, she told her daughter to bury her in the ground, so she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

 

Stupid woman.

 

Just as I had foreseen, the girl went onto a city, caught the eye of the right man, and became queen. She lived as close to happily ever after as anyone can, mostly, I think, because she stayed just as stupid til her dying day. Did you ever notice that? It makes me wonder why I spend so much time chasing knowledge, since ignorance seems truly to be bliss.

 

The world is a strange place, and that’s coming from an old hermit fae who lives in a hut made of bones. Think about that a second.

 

Her mother though? I dug her right back up again after she left and told her exactly what kind of a fool she was. Oh, how she wept and wailed and begged me to let her go and watch over her poor little child. Never a word of gratitude for not simply eating her, nor for giving her such a useful form. So I stole away her voice, and brought her back to my home where she could pay back all the work that I put into her new form.

 

Right now, she’s in my fire, warming my little hut. I keep telling her someday I may give her something closer to flesh, that she may be reunited with her Vasilisa.

 

Too bad I can’t give her wisdom with it.

 

As for me, Queen Vasilisa managed to spread enough stories about the mean old woman living on the edge of the gloomiest forest in all the lands that most people go out of their way to avoid me. If they should happen to find my little home, the turn pale and flee. Some have seen me at my labors and taken it ill, or let their imaginations run wild. The tales, they grow and grow until I am a legend.

 

Best of all, I am left in peace, mostly.

 

Every once in a while, some idiot wanders into my domain and does something truly offensive. Sometimes, they run quickly enough.

 

And sometimes, I have dinner.

Tick tock, tick tock, this is a clock ticking it’s way to November

When normal meals, showers, and sanity are just luxuries to remember

Today was the day I began the first and most vital steps

Merrily embarking upon the ritual known as NaNoWriMo prep.

 

 

/cough In other words, today I started the outline and wrote the first passage of the new book. It even has a working title- The Way of the Fae.  (Though I still don’t know how they would order a steak, though I’d really like it to be the way that Woody Harrelson’s character ordered his in The Cowboy Way.)

I know where they came from, why they are around, why they don’t truck with us mortals a whole lot, why there are wayfaestations (hyuk), and oh so much more. And while, yes, the book is set in Nessa’s/our world, I really want to say again that it won’t have anything to do with Nessa herself- her story has been told, and it’s really only polite to leave her in peace, with Star Wars movie marathons and Pizza Rolls in her cabin in the Jimez. I think of her often and fondly, especially now that Pizza Rolls are a strict no no.

I’ve got a pile more research to do, and a new completely unrelated book series to finish before time runs out. (I have a strict rule about not reading anything new during NaNoWriMo, I don’t want an author’s tone to sneak across into my work.)

But we’ve got a start!

National Novel Writing Month begins November 1, and yes, I’m going to do my best again this year to see what I can do to get another book wrapped up. I’m currently 3 for 3 and feeling pretty good.

Rick got me a super comfy purple Stitch sitting on the Iron Throne hoodie. I’ve got a new one handed keyboard/mouse combo that looks like a geek’s version of brass knuckles. My desk is mostly cleared off of all the chainmail supplies it normally holds. My notebooks are ready. And I’ve had two book ideas percolating, and I finally settled on one.

One of the things I found most disappointing about Nessa’s story is that there wasn’t the opportunity to go into the history of the Fae in more detail- well, buckle in, cause that’s where we’re headed next. Part history, part adventure, part ‘where do faerie tales come from’, I really want to take some time to flesh out the ideas in my head, connecting back to what the heck would it be like to be a modern faerie?

It’ll only have a tangential connection to Nessa’s world, so don’t go in expecting a sequel of some kind, you’ll be hugely disappointed.

And yes, there will be Cliche.

What you can expect are fewer thoughtful blog postings, more random conversation repeats, and maybe some golden oldies coming back… I’ll see what I can do. Figure I’m working a 8-10 hour day job, then hammering out my word count every night… plus Rick likes to get to talk to me every now and then. So yeah.

For now, I’m outlining away, super excited, and belting in for another NaNoWriMo November.

Ideas for the new book are starting to tap me on the shoulder and remind me what time of year it is. Or, I guess more importantly, what time of year it is getting to be. There’s going to have to be some research done on this one, and no, I’m not going back to any previous stamping grounds. This’ll be a standalone, set here in Albuquerque. I don’t really know how to describe what kind of book I have in mind- kind of a picture of the who the city is to me, a little bit of a love letter to this unique place I’ve found myself where anything can (and does) happen.

So, onto the question.. if you’ve ever worked customer service and helped out someone who is mute, how did that go? Did getting a slip of paper make things awkward, or simpler?

Thanks in advance for anyone that’s able to help out- I can write from one perspective just fine, but in the time I worked retail it’s a situation I just never encountered.

 

“Who are you?”

Whatever else is going on in my life, I can never say I haven’t been blessed with an overabundance of interesting.

To answer your question… I’m the daughter of a witch and a werewolf. No, I don’t know how they met, though I kind of want to assume it was either a Beltane ritual or some kind of paranormal Match.com. It’s always been a story they’ll tell me ‘when I’m old enough’.

I wonder if, along with your driver’s license, right to vote, and ability to drink, if there’s some age in between that a government official shows up at the doorstep and says, “Congratulations, you’ve reached the Age of Enlightenment. You’re officially old enough to hear all the dirty jokes, all the bad words, and all the stories no one would tell you!” Then he’d shake your hand, give you a laminated card with the limerick about the man from Nantucket (you know, so you can prove you’re finally really truly old enough), and be gone.

Sometimes my mind wanders- deal with it. You’re the one who wanted to walk inside my head, I didn’t invite you.

Mom and I lived in Edgewood, New Mexico, where she worked as a librarian. Apparently however lucrative witchery is, it doesn’t pay the bills when you have a kid to take care of. It’s not that Dad wasn’t around- he was, when he could be. But he was based out of Oregon, and, well, it’s a long drive.

He never missed the holy days. Every summer, he took me to his place, were we ran together in the forest. I wear a splinter of his own bone carved into a protective fetish on a leather cord around my neck. I am his only child.

Such are the gifts my father has given me.

Fall, winter, and springtime I belonged to my mother and school and society, in that order. With my mother, I learned to respect life and to love words. One place she never applied ‘when you’re old enough’ was the bookshelf… I read Stephen King along with Jane Austen… and when I stop to think about it, that’s a scary metaphor for my parent’s relationship. Stephen King meets Jane Austen, huh. Funny how these insights spring up.

I still don’t think writing this all down is a good idea, though. Don’t get smug.

Before I go on to tell you why I hate school and society so much, I’m going to derail for a moment and talk about that other world.

Witches and werewolves (and fae and vampires and chupacabra for all I know) usually pass some level of talent or ability on to their offspring. Yes, witches and werewolves have had children before, usually male, usually with some kind of gift. It’s true that sometimes it doesn’t come out until the teenage years, so I still have a few more to go before we know for sure.

Cause right now, it looks like I’m a dud.

Now understand, neither of my parents have ever been anything but wonderful to me, it’s not like there’s this sense of disappointment hanging over me from them. Neither one of them are kid people though (note my one and only status on both sides, though they are not bound to each other in that way), and I think I know my mother well enough to say that she wouldn’t have had a child if the portents hadn’t been favorable.

So, understand, when I look around at other people, especially kids my age, that think they know what the world is and who they are in it with such absolute disgusting certainty… well, I kind of hate them. I hate them for their blindness- I mean, mom wasn’t exactly cooking up potions in the break room at the library, but she did hand out an awful lot of amazingly helpful teabags. I envy them for what they consider problems… losing a smartphone, failing a test, getting a zit on date night… when compared to wondering what the hell you were born for, it sure looks like small potatoes, right?

And they don’t worry about the dangers out there that they can’t admit exist.

Like any of the hundreds of things that may have my mother.

She’s been gone for 198 days now, and no one knows what else to do.

I am Nessa. I’m 17 and still barely tall enough to ride the really good roller coasters. I have dark hair like my father’s and my mother’s dark eyes. I’m the girl in the back of the room that does her best to never be noticed by anyone by keeping her nose in a book. I have my father’s grace in the woods, but nowhere else. I have my mother’s knowledge in the garden and the kitchen, but know nothing of her potions or spells.

Even if I never see her again, in my heart I will always be the witch’s daughter.

 

 

Hope you enjoyed Chapter 1, and if you’re tempted to read a little further, well, the whole book is available on Amazon. If you click on My Books at the top, it’ll helpfully take you straight there.

Cheers!