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Saturday, March 28, 2015

THE KING'S DAUGHTER


Once upon a time there was a poet.  She was a poet because she had no time to write.  When you have a husband, five kids, a full-time job and you like to raise horses, you have NO time.  That was my drill for years, and since penning a sonnet took considerably less time than knocking out 90,000 words, I wrote poetry.  I did well at it.  Still, there was always a little voice in the back of my mind whispering, “But I wanna write a book!”  That voice was so persistent that I finally realized it was a muse and named her The Wench because she was totally annoying.

Then my fairly happy if somewhat madcap life began to fall apart.  The kids grew up, my husband died after a 4 ½ year battle with leukemia and my job was history because I had left it to care for him.  I could no longer afford horses.  My muse was peeking at me around corners, trying to get in, but I was so annoyed I renamed her Persephone.  You know…the Queen of Hell.  Eventually I decided I was going to blow my entire small fortune on a plane ticket to Ireland, with no plan to return any time soon.  Despite the pleas of family and friends who thought I was out of my mind, I did.  What I didn’t realize was that Persephone was in the cargo hold.

She finally announced herself in a sheep pasture on the west coast of Ireland where I was sitting sort of like J.K. Rowling with one of those ubiquitous yellow legal pads, since I couldn’t afford a laptop.  I had a fantastic view of the Atlantic Ocean pounding green surf against 300-foot cliffs, but even above the noise of the waters I heard Persephone whining at me like some sort of literary mosquito.  What if you were a princess, sitting at your castle window, watching that surf?” Seph whispered.  What if your father was a king?  What if you had the power to foretell events with a scrying bowl, had telepathy with animals, could summon holy fire for your defense and worshipped a triumvirate goddess with all your heart but still couldn’t stop your father from using you as a pawn?  In a time of war, what would you surrender in the name of love?”

“STOP!” I screamed.  “I’m writing a poem!” 

But Seph just smiled.  “Not any more.”

* * *

I was the King’s daughter once, so many years ago that sometimes now it is hard to remember.   Before the tide of time carried away so many things, so many people, it was worth something to be the daughter of a King.

            Our little island nation of Alcinia was not rich, except for tin mines honeycombing the south.  It wasn’t even hospitable.  Summer was a brief affair and fall was only a short time of muted colors on the northernmost coast where my father sat his throne at the ancient Keep of Landsfel.  Winter was the killing time and spring was hardly better, with frosts that could last into Fifth-Month.  But from the south, where men cut thatch in a pattern like the bones of fish, to the north where rock roses spilled down cliffs to the sea, it was my own.

            One thinks such things will never change, yet all things do.
* * *
That was “The King’s Daughter,” Book I of The Chronicles of Alcinia.  Book II, “Heart of the Earth,” I wrote a little later--in a pub in Killarney.  But that’s a story for another day.


One lucky reader who comments on my blog will be randomly selected to win a print or eARC copy of The King’s Daughter. Good luck!

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Do You Love Books?

I love books--reading them, writing them, holding them in my hands or scrolling at my leisure through an ebook.  And sure I would love to talk to you about my books.  I have written a bunch of them, but tell me about yours.  We're not rated erotic on this blog, so I'd appreciate you keeping it below that level.  But romance, fantasy, science fiction, historical, poetry, whatever tickles your fancy...let's hear about it.  If you're selling, promote.  If you're buying, let us know what you're looking for.  If something you read is so good it knocked you into outer space--yeah, we're definitely into that.   

Have a cup of tea, or something stronger.  Tell your friends.  We're here to listen.  Just use the Comment section at the end of this post, leave an email if you'd like a reply, and let's talk about books.