characters, children, favorites, heroines, world-building

Names and Naming

I realized, a few years back, that every single story I was writing had a main-ish character with some version of the name Katherine. Every one. The funny thing is, that name was never even on my list of favorite names, certainly not one I considered for either Joy or Grace (although if I had a third daughter …), and yet it kept cropping up in every one of my stories, until I had to consciously edit it out. Magic Most Deadly’s Julia was a Kate first, for example. As were the main protagonists in the two other stories I was writing/plotting at the same time as that. I kept one as was, changed MMD’s Kate to Julia, and abandoned the other story entirely, at least for a time.

Other names, or name-sounds, crop up with frequency, too. I adore Lloyd Alexander’s Princess Eilonwy (I think the E and the I look ugly next to each other, especially with that W showing up so soon after (W is just an ugly-looking letter anyway), which is one reason why I never considered Eilonwy as a name for Joy or Grace, but the sound of the name – Aye-LON-Wee – is pure music). I love JRR Tolkien’s Eowyn as well (though the E-O-W is even uglier to look at than E-I…W), and have found myself using very similar names in many of my stories. I have an Eilwen in one, her daughter Eirlys in another (plotted but not written). I’ve used Owen, Will, Gwen, in several of my non-fantasy stories. And I have yet to write this character, but I love the name Telyn and am eagerly waiting for the right story to put her in.

I sat down and analyzed Wings of Song the other day and realized it pretty much needed to be torn apart and begun again. Part of that tearing apart meant changing my main protagonist’s name. So much of her character was bound up in her name. If she needed a different personality, she needed a different name. I wanted this new heroine to be a combination of two previously-written protags: one named Meggie, one Gwen. At first I thought I wanted a name that preserved that middle “eh” sound, but in the end (and it was surprisingly difficult), I went with something entirely different.

And it’s working.

Poor Carl – I used to scare him half to death when we’d be driving along in the car, talking of something completely different, and I’d suddenly fire off: “What do you think of ___ for a name?” “Are you pregnant?” he’d howl.

He’s since learned to just roll with it. He married a person with an endless fascination for names, how they look, how they sound, what sort of associations they conjure up in people’s minds, all that. When I did get pregnant, and we finally did start talking names for real, I couldn’t settle down to think about anything in the pregnancy seriously until we had decided on names. (Joy and Grace, for newer readers, are not their real names. I decided when Joy was a baby that I could use photos OR real names, but not both, and at that point I went with photos. As they’re getting older and their faces are getting more recognizable, I’m starting to rethink even that policy. We’ll see.) And even though we didn’t use the boy name we had chosen for Joy, I couldn’t consider that name (Evan, by the way) for Grace. That was Joy’s-boy-name. Grace (of course, at the time we were discussing names, we didn’t know she was a girl) needed her own unique boy-name (she would have been Tristan, if you’re curious).

What about you? Are names something that fascinate you, or are they just convenient handles for keeping people and characters from getting confused? Do you find yourself drawn to similar-sounding names without even realizing it, or re-using one name across many different stories? And which is more important to you, a name that looks beautiful written, or sounds beautiful spoken?

Books, favorites, fiction, influences

In Memorium

I have come to a conclusion that is important to me. I no longer believe that the momentum of a life headed in a worthwhile direction ends when that life does.

Jesmin Ackbar shot down five enemies, all of whom served evil men. Had she not done so, their actions would have led to further evil, but her actions take their place instead, broadening like a firebreak into the future theirs would have occupied.

Jesmin Ackbar saved hundreds of lives at Folor. Had she not done so, a bow wave of suffering would have rippled out from Folor, scarring survivors, leaving behind nothing but loss.

… I will never know how much good surrounding me is a legacy of Jesmin’s life. Her future will be invisible to me. But invisible is not the same as nonexistent.

-Aaron Allston, Wraith Squadron

Aaron Allston, author of the above words (and many more), died last week. The news hit me hard, especially coming as it did on the heels of a more personal, but equally unexpected, loss.

I loved Allston’s Star Wars X-Wing novels. I still love them. I sold the majority of my Star Wars novels several years ago, but I kept the ones by Allston, Michael Stackpole, and Timothy Zahn. Not only were they happy reminders of my younger days and my first genuine fandom, they were just really excellent books, Star Wars or no.

I had recently started following Allston on Twitter. He proved to be just as warm, funny, and engaging on social media as he appeared through his books, with pithy insights delivered as a rapier strike of wit, not a bludgeon of dogma.

I had so much respect for him, as a man and as an author, and his books did and do mean so much to me. I have been mourning him deeply, but today, reading his own words in Wraith Squadron, the pain eases slightly.

The good that he did is not finished. His life is ended but not over. His legacy continues in the countless lives he and his writing touched and will continue to touch. Because of that, he will never really be gone.

Wraith Squadron, Iron Fist, Solo Command, and my favorite of all, Starfighters of Adumar
Wraith Squadron, Iron Fist, Solo Command, and my favorite of all, Starfighters of Adumar
1920s, Books, characters, favorites, fiction, heroes, heroines, influences, publishing, research, world-building, writing

Truth

I recently read Emma Thompson’s charge against the current generation of film stars, how they don’t seem to believe enough in their work to promote it, and that if one loves what one does enough, one should be willing to shout it from the rooftops.

It hit home. Because I have been doing a terrible job of promoting Magic Most Deadly. Granted, it’s not because I don’t believe in it, but it’s fear of being found annoying or arrogant or pompous. Or who knows? Maybe it is a lack of self-confidence – not it the book, but in me. I’m not going to try to psycho-analyze myself too deeply here. I just know that, to do justice to my book, I need to be bold about it.

So, truth:

Magic Most Deadly is the best damn thing I’ve ever written. It’s not highbrow literature. It’s not everybody’s cup of tea. But it is a fun story, with characters who became very real and individual people to me throughout the writing, and with a twisty and entertaining plot. It’s my tribute to Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie and Lloyd Alexander and Brian Jacques and all those writers I’ve mentioned in every one of my “Influences” posts.

I loved writing it. I even enjoyed editing and polishing it. I researched the heck out of that thing, and even enjoyed that part. I grew as a writer (and a person, really) throughout its creation process.

It’s a great little book. And I hope everyone who likes mystery and fantasy and humor and English country houses and strong-minded heroines and a hero who respects that and a fussy, stubborn mentor in the background will pick up a copy and give it a read.

Not because I want to be rich and famous and everybody loves meeeeee and thinks I’m wonderful! But because I really, I honestly do, think you’ll enjoy it.

Magic Most Deadly. Get your tickets today.

(Did I do okay, Ms Thompson?)

favorites, Life Talk, philosophy, seasons

Autumn Glories

I love this season. When I was younger, I loved winter (skating, sledding, skiing, hot cocoa and cozy sweaters) and summer (swimming, berry-picking, berry-eating, sunny day dreaming) the best. The older I get, the more I appreciate the moderate seasons. I’m not even going to try to psycho-analyze that – it doesn’t take a genius!

I do find myself craving spring after just a little bit of winter now, and craving autumn a short way into summer. I miss the light more than anything in winter, but I don’t handle the extreme heat of summer well. AT ALL.

This autumn has been a little bit warmer than my ideal. BUT it’s still been glorious.

Outside the local library
Outside the local library

20131019_095425 20131019_101724

Enjoying a weekend hike to finish up Carl's Reading Week
Enjoying a weekend hike to finish up Carl’s Reading Week
I wish I could have captured the sun-reflecting-on-water-reflecting-off-leaves in this picture.
I wish I could have captured the sun-reflecting-on-water-reflecting-off-leaves in this picture.

See?

Glorious.

What’s your favorite season?

Books, favorites, fiction, publishing, writing

Summer Sale!

Right now, all my publications are on sale.

(“All.” Doesn’t that sound grand? So much more impressive than “one short story on its own and two shorts bundled together.” Language is a beautiful thing.)

Justice’s Mask,” a historical fiction short story published under the penname of Louise Ayers, is on sale through Amazon for $0.99.

If This Be Magic & The Traitor and the Spy,” two historical fantasy shorts published in one volume, on sale through Amazon for $1.99 on Kindle, and $3.99 paperback.

This is the start of my summer promotions for Magic Most Deadly, which currently does NOT have a release date, but most definitely should be out by fall. I also have some lovely giveaways planned, and some picture teasers for the book itself.

At some point, there will be a COVER REVEAL, and I’m still trying to figure out if it’s worth doing a blog tour for that – if you’d be interested in signing up to join in the cover reveal, let me know!

But first, the sale! What better way to kick off promoting a forthcoming novel?

(And hey – if you happen to buy either of the above books, and you want to leave a review on Amazon? That would be AWESOME. Even if it’s a negative review. I promise, I won’t even read it, I just want to know it’s there!)

(And if leaving a review is way too much of a pain for you, that’s cool, I get it. Sometimes I have a hard time doing reviews even when I want to, too. I’ll still think you’re awesome just for buying and reading.)

(Actually, I’ll probably still think you’re a fantastic human being even if you don’t even buy and read.)

And hey! Happy Canada Day, north-of-the-border friends!

Books, characters, favorites, God, heroines

My Name, My Friend … Emily

Here’s a tidbit about me many of you might not know – my first name is Emily.

I quite like my first name. I disliked it for a time when I was young, when it seemed like every second person I met was named Emily and I desperately wanted to be unique – but I like it well enough now. I don’t use it, of course. I mean, many of the members of my family still call me Emily (except my grandfather – when I was twelve years old and starting asking to be called Louise, he promptly switched and has only ever called me Louise or Emmy Lou (old family pet name which nobody outside said family is allowed to use, so nobody get any cute ideas) since), and I have some stubborn friends who still can’t make the switch, but I only ever refer to myself as Louise.

And it’s not because I don’t like the name Emily, but because I am a Louise. I can’t even think of myself as Emily – and the fact that my name never really sat quite comfortable on my shoulders, while Louise was just right was the main reason why I switched as an almost-teenager, not just because I was a snob who wanted a name that wasn’t shared with dozens of other girls.

(The other reason was to honor my great-grandmother, who was Pauline Louise, and who was one of the most wonderful human beings I’ve ever had the privilege to know.)

But (and now I’m finally getting to the main point of this post), I still like the name Emily. It’s not as common now as it was when I was young. It’s old-fashioned but not completely dated. It’s sweet and yet still simple and strong. It goes well with most middle names and last names. Even when it was popular it was never trendy. And, most importantly, it’s the name of one of my favorite book characters of all time.

No, not Emily Starr. Not Emma Woodhouse. Not even Emily Pollifax.

 

 

It’s none other than Emily Webster, star of Maud Hart Lovelace’s Emily of Deep Valley.

Unlike Betsy, Tacy, and Tib, alongside whom I grew up, reading about their escapades usually around the same time I was their age for each book (nice planning there, Mom), I didn’t meet Emily until I was an adult. A very young, very lonely newlywed, as a matter of fact, living in a strange city in a strange state, knowing nobody there outside my husband (who was working long hours and only wanted to crash at home when he was done), not working myself at the time, without a car, feeling very adrift as I was away from my family for the first time in my life (the one danger in going to a local university, I suppose).

There was a bookstore within walking distance of my apartment, however. True, I had to clamber through a hole in a fence, pick my way down a steep hill, sprint across a restaurant’s parking lot, cross a very busy road, and then dart through another parking lot to get there, but I could do it.

And it was there, one day as I had fled from the incessant noise of the neighbor below us, that I met Emily. If I did not believe in God, I would call it a fluke. Why would a large, mainstream bookstore that barely carried any of the Betsy-Tacy books have this, the least well-known out of all Lovelace’s books? Since I do believe in God, I prefer to think of it as him sending me just what I needed at just the right time.

I sat down in an armchair right there in the store and starting reading it. After a couple of chapters, I felt my throat close up. Rather than burst into tears in public, I got up, paid for the book, made my perilous way back to my apartment, curled up in bed, and kept reading.

And for a few hours, the noise from the downstairs neighbor that filled the entire block of apartments ceased to bother me. My loneliness went away for a time, for I had found a new friend.

Emily, you see, found herself all alone at the start of the book. All her friends went off to college, and while she desperately wanted to go as well, she couldn’t leave her elderly grandfather, who had raised her and who didn’t understand the concept of higher education for women. Despite her best efforts, depression settles in.

But she doesn’t let it stay! Inspired by Shakespeare to “muster her wits,” Emily sets out to live a full, worthwhile life no matter where she is. She lets go of her nostalgic longing for the life she had in high school (the chapter where she changes hairstyles is sheer genius) and looks for ways to learn and grow and help others right where she is. Before long, her life is so full and rich that she’s almost forgotten her longings for college!

There’s romance in the book as well, but even that is shown as part of Emily’s self-growth. It’s never the main focus.

It’s no coincidence that after meeting Emily, I started a blog of my own, and tentatively joined the fanfiction community, starting to find a circle of friends online that are still with me today. She gave me the courage to push through the terrible ennui that threatened me in those early years and find ways to fill my life with purpose and joy. She helped me behave like an adult even when I felt like a little kid at the first church we attended and wanted to hide from all the perfectly-polished other young married women there, all of whom seemed so much more sophisticated and comfortable in their own skin than I was. She helped me understand that it doesn’t matter so much where you are as who you are, and that using your wits is something that will never go out of style.

So yes, Emily became and is still one of my dearest friends. And even though I don’t think of us as having the same name exactly, is it any wonder the name Emily holds such a special place in my heart?

favorites, influences

Happy Birthday, Bard of Prydain (and beyond)

Today is Lloyd Alexander’s 89th birthday. Of course I had to write a tribute.

There aren’t enough words, especially in a blog post, to give the proper idea of the influence this man has had on me. My writing, for one, but in my life as well. His characters, his stories, and more important, the ideas behind his stories, the hidden and subtle threads that wove their way through every tale he told, have all conspired together to shape my world view and my personality.

His own character as well has been an inspiration to me. Everything I read about him indicates he was a kind man, with great humility and a marvelous sense of humor, someone who never lost his sense of wonder at the magic that exists in the world all around us, for those with eyes to see it.

He is one of those giants upon whose shoulders I attempt to stand. I am ever thankful for him.

I wrote, a few years back, a little story set in a post The High King Prydain. I skipped the entire dilemma of “how did Taran and Eilonwy put the kingdom back together?” by focusing on their children, in a settled kingdom that had accepted the departure of the Sons of Don long ago (cheating! I know!). It’s not the most perfect story I’ve ever written, but I am fond of it for the message it conveys. It is, in a small way, part of my tribute to the lessons I’ve learned from Lloyd. If such thing interest you, feel free to read it!

Thank you, Lloyd, for the gifts you scattered on the earth during your lifetime. May your legacy grow ever greater as the years pass.

favorites, goals, Life Talk, writing

Year’s End

I always enjoy reading year’s-end posts from others. So I decided to put one together on the chance that others enjoy reading them, too! Without further ado, here are some of my favorite posts from this blog in 2012.

This post on rituals, from February, is still one of my favorites from the year. I like its quiet thoughtfulness.

My April post on destiny still resonates with me. I need the reminder, still, to not get bogged down in fatalistic negativity.

I wrote a tribute to Lloyd Alexander in May. It’s mostly quotes from his writings, so you know it’s good.

This post on why I write, done in July, is honestly probably one of my favorite things that I’ve ever written. Honest truth, and a reminder to myself to keep aiming high. The comments still uplift me every time I re-read them, too.

I had fun with using scrambled eggs as a metaphor for writing styles in August. Includes some highly amusing pictures of bread loaves that didn’t work.

This post on being French, from September, remains one of my most popular EVER.

I wrote a tribute to my grandmother on the one-year anniversary of her death in October. My hope is that it gives comfort to others who have lost beloveds to Alzheimer’s or other forms of dementia.

In December, life got heavy. So I wrote about choosing joy, light, and love.

2012 was a good year for this family. It was a year of rest and healing (emotional and spiritual), a year of preparing for some big changes coming up in 2013. Carl has been accepted to his grad school of choice, which means that we will be moving sometime in the next six months, and starting a new adventure – taking the first steps on a new path that is still mostly in shadow. Exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.

As for me, I turned thirty, started taking ice dance lessons after twelve years off the ice, began homeschooling the kids, and published my first stories.

It was a good year.

2013 promises to be even better.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.  -J.R.R. Tolkien


Books, favorites

Autumn Favorites

What are your favorite autumn reads?

There’s something about this time of year that just makes me want to curl up with a blanket, cup of tea, and a classic. This is my time of year to tackle a new Dickens (new to me, obviously – it’s not like he’s coming out with a new serial every year anymore), or delve back into Anna Karenina for the fifth time (maybe THIS time I’ll actually finish it), or revisit some old favorites such as Austen or Gaskell.

Fantasy tends to take a back shelf in autumn. Even “newer” classics – the LM Montgomery books, the Betsy-Tacy series, those sort – don’t hold quite as much appeal at this time of year.

Certain mysteries are still a good choice for me, though: anything atmospheric. Charles Todd’s Inspector Rutledge books, for example, or anything by Josephine Tey.

I’m currently reading through a couple fantasy books that my uncle brought me this weekend, books that were his all-time favorites when he was younger that he’s wanted to share with me for ages. After that …?

Well, I still have my non-fiction research books I’m working through. To be perfectly honest, though, I am SO SLOW when it comes to nonfiction; I’ll probably be working through those books for the next two months or more. So, my fiction reads when it comes time to take a break from learning about the history of the CIA?

Emma or Persuasion (or both), definitely. North and South, absolutely (MR THORNTON > MR DARCY). Take another whack at Anna Karenina, or give War and Peace a try. Maybe pull A Tale of Two Cities off my shelves. Who knows?

Do you all have any recommendations for me? What’s your favorite fall read?

favorites, influences, reading list

Going Back

With finishing my short stories (all spy- or detective-related), I decided to take a break from all the mysteries I’ve been reading lately and go back to my roots. This was partially inspired by the fact that I’m getting to loathe all fictional private detectives (except Sherlock Holmes, DUH), and partially because, to my surprise, some of my critique partners rattled off a few different writers whose style they could see had influenced me –

And not one of them was Lloyd Alexander.

Which quite frankly flabbergasted me, because for many years my writing style read like a composite of Lloyd Alexander and Brian Jacques, and Jacques only because he was so prolific that he infused my writing without me ever realizing it.

If there is one author I would aspire to write like, it’s Lloyd. So I’m picking up some of his books again and reminding myself of just what it is in his writing that I love so well, and make sure that I haven’t lost that in my own writing – not that I want to write in his voice entirely, of course, but that the same spirit breathes in my writing that lives in his.

I’m reading Westmark right now, which is the start of one of his less-popular series, but one that I love dearly. Then I’ll probably go on to the Vesper Holly books, for their sheer outrageous fun (oh how I love Brinnie; as a kid I wanted to identify most with Vesper, as an adult I have utter sympathy for Brinnie), and then we’ll see from there.

He breaks so many of the “rules” of writing, and yet his genius is such that it works. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go about breaking rules willy-nilly, but it does help me remember to hold them loosely, and if I have to choose between the story and the rules, GO WITH THE STORY.

It feels like visiting old friends, going back to Westmark and thinking about Vesper &co. I’m actually glad for an excuse to go back there, preferably with a cup of tea by my side.

Mmm … anyone else remember when the weather was cool enough to want wrist warmers? Yeah, me neither.

(Mind, I’m not complaining about any of the writers that were mentioned as being obvious influences on my writing; they are all brilliant writers and have influences me in one way or another, but since Lloyd is the BIGGEST influence on me, I was just surprised that he didn’t make the list.)