Musings of a Messenger

Oh my gosh, I’ve been trying for over a year to figure out how to fix a short story I started ages ago. I absolutely loved the premise, but after doing a lot of worldbuilding and work on the novels, the story broke. Horribly. As in I had no idea how to salvage any of it. But I loved the idea of a character crossing into an alternate reality- it’s something I’ve always wanted to write and with this character’s magic, it’s possible!

Now I’m staring at the most obvious solution in the world and not understanding why this didn’t occur to me months ago. I could have had this thing done by now! Ah well. I have three days before the “52 short stores in 52 weeks", so I can either start the rewrite now or wait until I reach a theme that fits this. I have a feeling this is going to be a longish short story rather than the ficlets I plan for the challenge, so it might be better to start it now and continue it as I work on other stuff. Maybe I’ll set a goal to have it finished by one of my wildcard weeks or something?

So yeah, just some rambling, but I’m super excited that I just might be able to pull this story off! I'll try to keep this blog updated with what I'm working on and share my finished ficlets. I haven't done any "Dear Character" or "Dear Writer" posts in over a year, either, so maybe I should do some of those. I'm determined to get back into writing after a pretty awful and distracting two months. Short stories are the perfect solution to feeling like I'm actually being productive!

~Meri

I realized something about my writing: if you’re a male between the ages of 17-30 and see a protagonist heading your way, RUN. Don’t look back, just get out of there! The gender of the protagonist doesn't matter- you're doomed.

A 93% chance of dating said protagonist isn’t bad, but… there’s only a 25% chance of an eventual happily ever after, a 100% chance of something horrible happening to you (but hey, only a 34% chance of actual death, so there’s that), and an 85% chance of becoming an antagonist of some kind. There is a 76% chance of having a story told from your POV, so at least you can possibly redeem yourself?

Long story short: boyfriends are expendable and I think I found a repeating theme. I'd be amused if not for the large group of young male characters glaring at me. Sorry, guys?

~Meri

I was originally using this post to keep track of a "52 short stories in 52 weeks" challenge, but I fell super behind. Instead I'm going to use it to keep track of short stories in general, as well as prompts and ideas.

Finished stories set in the Unexpected Inspiration series along with the prompts I used:

1. Describe your character’s keys. ("Three Keys")
2. Dialogue prompt:"I will never entirely be sure who picked whom." ("Who Picked Whom")
3. A story entitled “A New Beginning”. ("A New Beginning")
4. A story about rising to a challenge. ("Rising to a Challenge")
5. A retelling of a fairytale. (Well, it's kind of a myth? "Mile Long Cow")
6. A Soulmate AU ("Soul-Marks")
7. A story about finding something that has been lost. ("Lost and Found")
8. A story about characters moving in together. ("Roommates")
9. A story about a magic spell. ("Of Parties and Potions")
10. Prompt: Your character wakes up to find their entire town empty. When they return home, they find a note. ("Sheltered")
11. Prompt: You have broken into someone’s house, and discover a shrine dedicated to you. ("The Shrine")
12. Prompts: "4 people are shown where the made the biggest decision of their lives and what would happen if they had chosen differently" and "Your OC has the chance to go back in time and change something in their past. Do they take it?" ("Change of Choice")
13. Dialogue prompt: “I’ll shoot. I mean, you thought I actually loved you?” ("All Washed Up")
14. Prompt: A young girl discovers that she isn't alone. ("Secret Shadow")
15. Prompt: The boy hadn’t spoken since his twin had gone. ("Spirits by the Campfire")

Here are some more prompts from the "52 Short Stories in 52 Weeks" post that gave me this idea. I may do these or I might do other ones instead.

1. A story about three siblings.
2. A story about a journey.
3. A story set during a war.
4. A creepy story.
5. A story featuring a countdown.
6. A story set at a full moon.
7. A story about a contest or competition.
8. A story that takes place entirely inside a vehicle. 
9. A story from a villain’s perspective.
10. A story set at a concert or festival.
11. A story that begins with a gunshot. (Wildcard week or would need a different noise.)
12. A story about a historical figure. (This can work- I'll pick one for the culture.)
13. A story set in a theatre.
14. A story written in 2nd person narrative.
15. A story set on another planet. (More likely I'll set it on a different elemental plane.)
16. A story written from the perspective of someone dead/undead.
17. A story about a birthday.
18. A story that ends on a cliffhanger.
19. A story set at the summer solstice.
20. A story about nostalgia.
21. A story that features a song or poem.
22. A story that ends at sunrise.
23. A story opening with the words “F*** you!”
24. A story about a magical object.
25. A story set at sea.
26. A story about a curse.
27. A story set 100 years in the future.
28. A story about loneliness.
29. A story written from an animal’s perspective.
30. A story about a scientific discovery.
31. A story with only one character.
32. A story about a secret.
33. A romance that ends in tragedy.
34. A tragedy that ends in romance.
35. A story about a near-death experience.
36. A story about anger.
37. A story set in a strange small town.
38. A story about justice being done.
39. A creation myth.
40. A story set at Christmas. (Or whatever the winter holiday is.)
41. A story entitled “The End”.

To keep myself organized, here are some of the miscellaneous prompts I've been collecting:

• "I don’t care about what people think of me; I just care about cake."
• "Trusting me was your first mistake."
• "I’m not afraid to be protected, you know? It doesn’t annoy me… I just hope, someday, to be able to protect the people I love as well."
• "I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you- which is actually pretty far… but that’s besides the point."
• "This, what we used to have, it’s been over for a while now. You need to move on from this, from us… From me."
• "Don't let the lizards get you down."
• “You know what I’ve noticed about you? You don’t answer to anybody.”
  “Oh, well thanks, I-”
  “Oh no, I mean you LITERALLY don’t answer to anyone. We have to call your name, like, four or five times just to get your f***ing attention, and frankly, it’s getting on my nerves.”
• “Well, people do stupid things when they’re in love.”
  “What are you talking about? I’m not in love, I just don’t think things through before I do them.”
• “We’re bad for each other, don’t you see? We don’t work!”
• “Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered. The sand was still draining from the hourglass.
• “Would it be so terrible? To not hate ending up with me?”
• “I don’t even want to know why you’re looking at me like that.” 
• "I'm just as human as you are."
• “Run. I need you to run, as fast as you can. Run, and don’t stop. Don’t look back.” Honestly, as I think back on my father telling me this. I realize I probably should’ve ran faster.
• “You’re lucky I’m tired because if I was fully awake I would have already shoved you off this roof.”
• "Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
  “Uh, in all honesty? No. No, I don’t. And you’re kinda freaking me out with the tone you just used.”
• “Huh, I thought for sure that would get him.”
  “You mean that was intentional?”
• “Do you really think I’d get shot for you if I didn’t like you?” 
• “Why is there a summoning circle in the pie crust?”
• “I know what I want, but I think it’s time to admit that that doesn’t matter anymore.”
• “Every time I think I’ve found something that makes me happy, it gets taken away from me.”
• I walked up to my porch, breathing hard after a long run. A cat with white feet nuzzled up to me and I muttered, “I’m not your owner, but you’re really soft.” I stroked the cat until it dozed off in my lap. 
• “I’m worried, what if this doesn’t go right? What if-”
  “You talk too much.”
• “What are you two doing? I mean, I know what you’re doing. Just stop doing it!”
  “[—-], this is not what it looks like…”
  “This is the definition of something looking like what it looks like. Just go, [—-].”
• "I had just had another fight with my father and now he was unable to look me in the eye."
• “One day, I’m going to get famous. Just watch.”
• “That’s okay, you can be my sidekick.”
• “Going anywhere with you just brings me trouble.”
• “You aren’t gonna like what I have to say.”
  “Can you just not say it then? Can that be a new rule?”
• “I’ve been pronouncing that word wrong this entire time. Why didn’t you correct me? I’m so embarrassed.”
• “I know I said it’s a cool sword and that I wanted it, but not like this.“ 
• “We’re more alike than you want to believe.”
• “Lie to the world if you must, we all do.” They took a step closer. “But don’t you dare ever presume to lie to me as if I’m one of them.”
• “Could you just listen to me for two seconds?”
  “No, because frankly, I don’t give a damn about what you have to say.”
• “Do you know what this is?”
  “No idea.”
  “Me neither. You have not one implement in these drawers an honest man could call a kitchen utensil.”
• “I’m just scared you’re going to get tired of me.”
  “Why?”
  “Because everyone gets tired of me.”
• It wasn’t exactly the welcome they’d been expecting.
• “Let them be. There’s nothing you can do to make it worse.”
• “What if I forget? What if I let myself forget?”
• “I did it for you.”
  “No, you didn’t. The worst part is that you didn’t do it for you either. It was for him.”
• “I can’t imagine my life without you, anymore. I’m not leaving.”
• Writing prompt: “Write a diary entry, dated 10 years in the future.”
• Write a piece in which absolutely nothing goes the way it should.
• Write a piece in which someone has promised to be in two places at once
• Write a story in which a magical being must face the choice of giving up their magic.
• The characters from one of your abandoned stories have found out that you’ve given up on them.
• The narrator really really hates the protagonist but everyone else believes in him.
• A story where the protagonist is stuck with an indecisive author who keeps changing things.
• Her features were smudged with grease and she smelled of metal.
• You joke about pigs flying with a prophetic voice, and your friends laugh. Then, you all find out it came true not a minute after—in the middle of the city. Turns out you can manipulate reality, but only through sarcastic humor.
• As a child you noticed that by making a ring by touching your index and thumb you could look through and see another dimension. Later in life you realise that this works by touching any ring so you pick up your daughter’s hula hoop and step through.
• Today, a magic trick plays an important role.
• You are part of an old and ancient race that speaks the old tongue, the language of magic. The only problem? You and your people can’t stop doing accidental magic when you speak.
• A person visiting another dimension returns home to find it doesn’t exist anymore. They need to go through all the others to find the one that is closest to their previous life.
• Who does your character hate most in the world? Why? Would they ever forgive this person?
• You are a Dreamweaver, a being who creates dreams and nightmares to influence or inspire someone. You’ve inspired many people from rulers to inventors since the start of mankind. Now humans have found your existence, and are now trying to actually communicate with you.
• You run a paranormal investigation show- the most famous, widely known, and consistently watched in the world. Every week, you and your crew successfully find a paranormal creature hiding in the midst of society, or from it. There’s been talk lately, though- no source other than yourself has been able to confirm your education or enlightenment about the paranormal. You have never had other professionals in the field on the show. You haven’t made any statement on the matter, and with good reason… You yourself are a demon, and the human body you live in isn’t yours to control.
• You have a special backpack that supplies you with everything you may need for the day. One morning, while preparing for your day, you take a peek in the backpack and think, “Huh, well this should be an interesting day.”
• Your character is a ghost. They live in a quiet world full of ghosts. But one day, they see a very “lively” person walking around town. No one else seems to notice.  
• You’re a demon, who got bored and disguised yourself as a human for the fun of it. A person gets a crush on you, and takes you on a date. After two dates he summons your demon form to impress you.
• Imagine tiny and aggressive Person A getting into an argument with someone. When the person they’re arguing with asks ‘Are you looking down on me?!’, the much-taller Person B chimes in to say ‘I don’t think they can look down on anyone.’
• A party crasher who crashes the wrong party.
• A group of teens find a chest full of bizarre masks, and discover that each mask gives the wearer a different ability.  Like amazing rhyming skills, or sick dance moves.
• Throughout the whole story, you never identify the age, sex/gender, name or characteristics of the narrator/protagonist. They don’t have an identity. You can only describe actions, thoughts, or feelings that they have. 
• Write about a con artist who convinces people he/she is some sort of supernatural creature: a fairy, a ghost, etc. Try to go into specifics about how they achieve their “magic.” Or, alternately, write about a supernatural creature who uses his/her magic to be a successful “mundane” entertainer: an escape artist, a magician, etc. Talk about where they perform and how/if they explain their impossible feats. Bonus if the two end up meeting somehow.
• Which OC would spend valentine’s day sabotaging other people’s dates?
• Relationships: friends with benefits, soulmate AUs, seeing color AU, domestic triad, fantasy setting AUs, childhood best friends, 
• Ghosts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 
• (And all of these ridiculous ones or these ridiculous ones, this jerky job description, these dialogue ones are funny, some good dialogue ones here, along with these silly disastrous date ones are giving me plot bunnies. These angsty ones have some potential, too, as does this bingo card, these dream prompts, bodyswapping, asexual stories, unique fiction ideas, childhood backstory, artwork as portals, wizard tattoos, magic drawings, and this list of experimental writing styles.)

I've been wanting to do little writing exercises/ficlets/vignettes because it's a good way to keep myself in the habit of writing without worrying about the stress of working on my novels during crazier weeks. Plus is a fun distraction when I get bogged down with rewriting novels!

I don't know how many I'll do, but it'll be neat to have a collection! I'm curious how I can turn the more depressing-sounding prompts into my usual flavor of humor. I'm really excited about all this!

~Meri

~Meri

I received Joy of Witchcraft by Mindy Klasky from LibraryThing as part of the Early Reviewers program.

If book 1 would ever settle into the correct order of events, that would be wonderful. Made a mini outline so I could easily see what’s going on, but geez, this story has shifted at least a dozen times. Who knows if this outline is going to hold up longer than a day? My dorks keep changing things.

Somehow a few more chapters got added since my last outline post. It looks like Adair and Firedrake both have 12 while Blythe still has 8. I'm a little worried about that, but it's probably okay. Adair's the main-main character so it makes sense for him to have the most. Firedrake's chapters are generally pretty short so in terms of word count it's probably even with Blythe who gets longer chapters. (Generally plot happens in Firedrake's chapters, then the fallout/result happens in Adair or Blythe's.)

~Meri

So for those people out there who think asexual characters can't fall in love: I'd like to direct you to two of my main characters. I've written this part of book 1 something like three or four times and they keep insisting on closeness WAY too quickly. The one is supposed to be unemotional (well, he comes off that way to people because of his culture's mannerisms and some social anxiety- he's definitely not) and the other is supposed to be concentrating on getting back a stolen piece of his magic because it keeps hurting him. Every draft I say "I'll make their friendship develop over time! That would be great! And in book 2 they can develop it further!"

Hahahaha. They're definitely in love by the end of book 1 and they can't seem to stay away from each other from pretty much the time they meet. Guys! Stop it! This scene is your first conversation! Etri was supposed to walk away after a line of dialogue and now Adair's somehow gotten him to stay through the cunning use of tea and puppy eyes and I have no idea how to wrap up this scene because it's devolved into a conversation when Etri isn't supposed to be freely conversing this early in the story! *pulls hair out*

I guess I'll keep writing it like I am. I've learned that fighting my characters is usually a waste of time. If these two dorks want to hit it off earlier than I'd planned this many drafts in, then I guess that's how it needs to be. :-p

~Meri

Blurry picture with bonus cat toes. XD

Ya know, maybe my current draft of book 1 isn’t as much of a mess as I thought it was. The three thirds of the story are all even in terms of chapters- the first part has 10 to the middle and ending’s 9, but that’s really close. Plus I think after this draft I may end up condensing a bit more at the beginning anyway. Considering my first draft was something like 38 chapters and I’m down to 28, that’s a start, lol.

Even my characters are balanced. My main-main character (Adair) has 10 POV chapters, as does Firedrake, while Blythe has 8. Firedrake isn’t more important than Blythe, but Dray’s storyline does frequently affect Adair’s while Blythe is frequently in scenes with Adair or Dray.

I still feel that after this rewrite I’m going to need one more rewrite before I get to where I can plain edit, but this is a lot of progress since the beginning. I’m not entirely sure how some of the chapters play out in this draft, but they seem to be happening in the right order. Finally. Er… until I go back and try to condense the beginning again. Or realize the middle is still as messy as I’d feared.

I am loving the idea of ending the book on a Firedrake chapter instead of an Adair one, like in the previous drafts. Technically this is Adair’s book, but book 2 is more Dray’s, so (fingers crossed) it’ll leave me with a kind of hook to bring the readers into the next one.

Now that I have this sorted out pretty well, it’s time to dive back into the rewrite. I always need a good outline before I start any draft, but my characters often like to change things up on me without warning. An outline at least corrals them slightly. ;) … crud, and looking at this I just realized that I didn’t resolve one of my storylines. *headdesk* Guess I’ll stick that somewhere near the end in one of the last index cards.

~Meri

I'm rethinking writing book 3 this month. NaNo isn't working for me, not the way it has in the past. With my work schedule the way it is (it's been a week since I was able to write), I just can't approach it full speed with a new project. I'm sitting here with the laptop and finally a chance to write and I'm at a loss of what to do with this book. Partly it's because I had next to no time last month to outline so my usual solution of getting unstuck- jumping ahead and writing a more interesting scene- isn't working because I don't know what the heck the other scenes are. Add in the fact that I didn't have a chance to sort out book 2 after I figured out why that plot wasn't working last month... I'm struggling to figure out what goes into book 3 without having a firm basis of book 2. (I thought I'd be okay just diving into 3 since it's a new adventure for the characters, but I keep hitting walls caused by not knowing what happened in 2.) After days of not writing I find myself floundering. Where was I? What the heck was I going to write next? What were my characters thinking and feeling when I left off?

Yeah, I can't just do this NaNo the way I did in the previous years. Those times I had a decent outline and plenty of time to write. I could build each day on what I'd written the day before, so even where my outline had a gap, I could still blunder my way ahead because it was fresh in my mind. I already know I'm going to end up a NaNo rebel this month because I lowered my personal target word count. I may as well embrace being a rebel fully. I think what I might do is go back to my rewrite of book 1. With that one I have a full idea of the plot and a pretty complete outline. I'm hoping that I'll be able to stay focused even with days away from it because I'm familiar with the story. And if I get inspiration to write scenes from books 2 or 3? I'll write those scenes. Anything to get words out because right now I'm not getting any words.

Right now any words I gain this month are more important than trying to play by NaNo's rules. Any kind of progress is ideal and I think I'd make the most progress writing something I'm more familiar with. Or maybe I'll change my mind and write another short story about the world/characters. As long as I'm writing something, I don't really care what it is!

Long post is long, but I think I feel a lot better now. Just because I "lose" at NaNo doesn't make me less of a writer. I write year-round. I have a series in the works. I'm an author. If that means going at my own speed this year, so be it. :)

 ~Meri

Today I made progress on my outline. Lots of new ideas that actually made sense! Then I looked closer at my notes...

Me: If one culture sees Chiaroscuro (an elemental) as a mythological being and the other culture sees it as a god-like one, that means when it shared the mind/body of the twins' mother...

Etri: Do not say it.

Me: Now it makes sense how you register as "human" to healers, but have other abilities!

Etri: Please do not say it.

Me: You and your brother are demigods! Or something like it, anyway.

Etri: Book 3 is too late to acquire a job with another writer, yes? Perhaps a resumé-

Adair: *barrels into the conversation* My husband's a demigod? That's SO COOL! Wait, Chiaroscuro? I have a tiny statue of him that I hang my paintbrushes on to dry. Oh my gosh, I've been using your parent as an art supply! Do you think I can get their autograph?

Etri: *facepalm*

Please tell me I'm not the only writer who has these kinds of conversations with their characters. ;)

~Meri

Aha! I think I figured out why I was having so much trouble with book 2! I tried for a year to get this to be something that worked, but no matter how many changes or what characters I added, it still was a mess. The plot never really goes anywhere and no one really does much. It was boring me so much that I kept getting burned out.

The reason is now obvious: I'm trying to base a story/plot around a character who is by nature and circumstance a sidekick. I mean, in book 1 he's important, but always secondary to two of the more main (POV) characters. (He even ends up supporting the 3rd POV character who had been apart from some of the main storyline.) That's his role. He's the bodyguard. The one who looks after the other two. He's the brains and the logic that get them through tough situations. He's the support they can always rely on because no matter what, he's there. He's trustworthy and loyal to the point where it becomes a flaw and compromises his logical judgement.

But he isn't a hero. He isn't a protagonist in his own right, which is what I was trying to make him into for the second book. No wonder he wasn't seeking out plot on his own; he's perfectly content to stand behind the other two while they find the plot. Forcing him into doing it himself just wasn't working. (This is a problem with the character, not the sidekick role. One of the two POV characters shares the position of bodyguard with him, but while being a bodyguard could make her a sidekick, she doesn't have the personality to be secondary. She finds plot easily and has a tendency of doing her own thing, not that that's always a good idea.)

So I think I have a way of fixing book 2; I have to shift the story so it’s directly affecting other characters. Too bad NaNo starts in a week and I haven’t had time to outline that one yet, so I have to put my focus on book 3 without really knowing what book 2 is going to become. This could be a disaster or it could mean that book 3 gives me my answers for book 2.

~Meri

The three of us function best when we are together. Apart we are incomplete. Jointly our hearts beat as one. 

(A writing prompt blog had a challenge with the line of dialogue "I will never entirely be sure who picked whom." Considering that my main characters end up accidentally bound and with the Mindlink Mates trope, the three of them never purposely picked the other two. It just kind of happened. And it's hilarious writing these books because the three of them have such clashing personalities: the spacy, affectionate artist; the rather snarky healer; and the socially awkward not-quite-human. I don't do much first person writing, so it was kind of fun getting inside their heads instead of using my usual 3rd person style.)


I'll never really be sure who picked who because it wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Not with them. I wouldn't trade Etri or Blythe for anyone else in the world and I love them more than anything, but I'll admit that they probably shouldn't have become my muses.

An artist is supposed to spend years with their chosen pair, which are almost always another artist and a Protectorate. There are exceptions, like my first would-be-sentinel was Artisan born and later trained as a Protectorate, but... well, that worked out oh so beautifully after we broke up and he tried to sabotage my link. Maybe there's something to it, why the usual choice is another artist and a Protectorate? That combination has worked since forever. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right. Time spent with this pair, if they're the right pair, leads to devotion, loyalty, and love. This way, when the artists reach the level of creativity and altruism needed to pass their criterion, everything is lined up. If it is, the test they're given elevates the artists to the rank of master and grants the triad their binding link. This is something all artists want and it's something all eventually get. Without our muses-- our bondmates-- an artist would be unbalanced. We'd lack our focus and we'd lose sight of who we are. The link keeps us whole and our muses keep our feet on the ground.

This all sounds so bookish and vague and distant and maybe that's why I wasn't paying close enough attention to notice when it went screwy. Me and my original pair had broken it off and I figured I had years before I would be ready to be a master. I wasn't even a novice yet! Fate or the Creators or something had other ideas. My art got stolen and with it my weaving. My power still connected the unfinished map to me, so I had to go after it. If someone gets their hands on another's active weaving… I found out the hard way when a thief stole mine why a sentinel is so important. Or, rather, why a lack of a sentinel was a total disaster.

The thief twisted my weaving, melding it with ones stolen from other Weavers. It hurt. I couldn't catch the thief on my own, not through the pain. Without my would-be-bodyguard, I had next to no chance of getting it back even if I could find it again. I was helpless, scared, and alone.

Until I wasn't alone. Two of the most unlikely people possible stepped in to fill the missing places at my side. Both were carnival performers, one a healer and an inactive Protectorate, the other a foreigner with weird weaving. Neither had any obligation to help me. Neither knew what they were getting themselves into by giving me harmless enough things: protection, support, and friendship. For that matter, I didn't realize until it was too late. All I knew was that those things felt right coming from them and I gladly gave the same in return. Well, maybe not so much the protection part. I made up for that by giving them food because an Artisan always feeds the people they care about. I know Blythe and Etri find this weird, yet they never complained.

Right, I was talking about who picked who, not food. Sorry! Protection, support, and friendship gradually slid into devotion, loyalty, and love. Without any of us realizing what happened, my latent link sparked. No official test was needed, no officials were around to decide that I was ready. It was my own heart and my own weaving that entwined the pair who had given me so much and bound them to me as well as to each other. My heart recognized who I needed long before my brain caught up and by then it was too late to retract what had formed.

Other than a few tiny problems getting there (okay, that sabotage I mentioned was probably a little bigger than “tiny”), Blythe and Etri both accepted what happened. More than accepted! Both wanted to be my muse and sentinel. They're not conventional-- two sentinels are rare and two carny-sentinels are a first-- but that doesn't matter. They're mine and I'm theirs. Our hearts beat as one, always and forever.

~Adair


-------------------------------

I will never entirely be sure who picked whom because I wasn't supposed to be an Artisan. For the longest time I had no intention of picking anyone and at the top of the list of “people I'm not interested in” were Artisans, followed right behind by carnies. Or possibly carnies before Artisans. Carnies are flighty, ridiculous, and frankly impossible to deal with for longer than a few minutes at a time. From what I'd heard and seen of them, Artisans were even worse. Yes, I know I'm a carny. Technically. After I ran away from my aunt, who “graciously” took me in after my father died, the carnival troupe was my way back home. The knives and swords I loved served as an act and with the troupe I was finally taught how to use the healing ability my aunt tried her hardest to repress.

When the troupe returned to Concordia and I had the choice to go back to the Protectorates or stay with the carnies, I picked the performers. I often wonder if this was a mistake, but I felt like I owed them for taking me in and giving me training. Plus those numbskulls needed all the healers they could get. As much as they annoyed me, they had become my family. There was one other reason I stayed with the troupe, though, and it's a secret I don't tell anyone. I always feared I'd become a sentinel. Ever since my father passed his father's knife on to me, that feeling nagged at me like a sore tooth. The knife is a symbol all sentinels carry and once a Protectorate becomes a sentinel, inevitably one of their children follow. My father dodged this when he fell in love with a Protectorate; despite being Artisan-born, he gave up all plans to become a sentinel and married her instead. When he broke tradition, he essentially cut all ties to his family and, by association, the Artisans he came from. I tried to do the same by staying with the carnies. If I went back to the Protectorates, there would be a chance I'd come into contact with artists since Protectorates protect art, albeit less directly than sentinels.

So I was caught between two lives, not really a carny and not really a Protectorate anymore. I knew, though, that these must be better than becoming a sentinel. When Etri joined the troupe I found a kindred spirit, as cheesy as it sounds. His silence and stoicism were a welcome change from the annoyingly boisterous troupe. I recognized that he felt as out of place as I did, although he never said as much. Etri never says much.

Then my worst fear happened. An Artisan bumbled his way into our camp. He needed help and we were the only ones who could give it. Etri latched onto him immediately, which was something I didn't think was possible. As much as I tried to stay distant from Adair, I couldn't. He wasn't at all like I expected from an Artisan. Yeah, he could be flighty, but he had such a strong sense of honor and charismatic warmth that it was impossible to not accept the friendship he offered. It would have been like kicking a puppy. I found myself drawn to him just as strongly as Etri was-- and just as strongly as I was drawn to Etri. I wanted to help Adair and protect him. More than that, it made me recognize how I'd given Etri protection and support since we met.

I sensed our link before Adair did, but I was too afraid to admit it was there. Admitting it would concede that I was a sentinel, because what else could I be if I was bound to an artist? It took me too long to grasp that while I was bound to Adair and Etri, I wasn't bound to anything else. I wasn't tied down to an Artisan's place in society because Adair wasn't a typical Artisan, which was something I knew from the beginning. Adair is a cartographer. A traveler. He has no steady home or a place he's required to be. Nothing would take me away from being a healer to those I want to help or prevent me from holding whatever career I want. Okay, as their sentinel I need to watch over them. That's something I've always done. It's something I'll always do.

Protecting the ones I love is where I belong. Adair says “our hearts beat as one” and I can tell this is true, even if it does creep me out a little. I was their healer before I was their muse so I know this wasn't always the case. At one point our heartbeats were different and our bodies were our own. Now our health is linked together just as much as our emotions. Ugh, emotions. Do you realize how hard it is to be linked to someone as mercurial as Adair? We'll figure it out, though. We always do. If I have to be linked forever to people, they're the only ones I'd want. Even if they do both drive me nuts. I leave them alone for five minutes and Etri's possessing Adair because he thought it was a good idea at the time. (Is “possessing” the right word? “Haunting”? “Inhabiting”? I don't know, it's some weird shadow thing he can do.) Or Adair's managed to turn himself orange. Or eat something poisoned. Or fall out a window. They're so freaking hopeless... it's no wonder sentinels always seem slightly exasperated.

~Blythe




I am unsure of who selected whom because there was never a choice. That is to say, the choice was both simultaneous and nonexistent; we are a trio because that is what we were from the onset. We picked each other: Adair, Blythe, and myself.

I am still amazed by this development because I always assumed I would remain unwanted. I am in no way desirable as a mate and I considered myself fortunate when Blythe wanted me as a friend. I have had so few of those. I am uncomfortable in this culture despite residing here for several years; everyone is exceedingly friendly, overly emotional, and too physical, which only exacerbates my dislike of social situations. I possess weaving vastly different from the standard artist variety and, while I choose to hide this as much as I can, it leaves my body temperature noticeably frigid. While normal in Montglace, this disturbs those overly friendly people of Concordia, and, excepting my brother, I look nothing like anyone in this country. This, too, adds to my discomfort around others.

Yet I am not as detached as people think. While I have always lacked attraction and find acts of specific affection off-putting if not disgusting, I still yearned for a connection with someone who could accept me. But always I was left wondering how. I failed to realize that, in her own way, Blythe already did. It was not until Adair entered our lives that this became clear.

Adair brought with him acceptance, understanding, and unquestionable loyalty. There was nothing about Blythe or myself that bothered him, not even when she tried to brush him off with her usual cynicism. After learning that my weaving shifts me into an incorporeal shadow, Adair showed only curiosity. My own brother never was so able to accept this. Adair gave me space until I felt safe enough to speak freely with him, then never pushed me for more than I was comfortable, in speaking or in touch. I discovered, however, that I enjoyed his genuine affection just as I enjoyed his company. He gave to me something only Blythe had done: a feeling of being home in a place where nothing feels like home. And when he gave this to me, he gave it to her, as well.

The three of us function best when we are together. Apart we are incomplete. Jointly our hearts beat as one. Quite literally. I am unsure of how this works physiologically when my form is not always as this and does not always possess a heart. Yet always when I shift back, my heartbeat is aligned with that of Blythe and Adair. I have finally found acceptance and the place I belong.

~Etri

The copper [key] with a stylized moon and sun wrought into the bow grip was for the lock on his wagon. The long one with a protective rune etched into the shaft opened the main entrance of the caravanserai in Silveridge, his previous home with the carnies in the capital city. Now Blythe had given him a third key, deceptively plain for the importance it carried. Three keys for the three places he felt safe.

(Oddly enough the challenge/prompt “Describe or draw your character’s keys” corresponded with a little scene/ficlet I was working on this week. It isn’t polished, but here’s some insight into two of my protagonists. This takes place shortly before book 1 of my "Unexpected Inspiration" trilogy.)

Blythe blinked up at the indiscernible ceiling of her bunk as her sleepy mind tried to figure out what could have awoken her in the middle of the night. Then she heard it again. Soft knocks on the door, as though whoever it was didn't want to wake her, but needed her attention. It couldn't be someone who was ill. Wysta lived in the carnival troupe's healing wagon, so that would be where someone in need of a healer would go. She was just the assistant. She rubbed her eyes and swung herself down to the floor without using the ladder built into the cabinet beneath the bed. The wagon was small and she knew it well, so she reached the lamp sitting next to the sink by feel alone. Once she had this lit, she padded over to the door. She felt the cold air blowing through the bottom of the door as she neared and she shivered when the draft reached her bare toes.

She turned the lock to unbolt the door and pulled it open a crack, not wanting to let more of the cold air in. At first she didn't see anything out there and she wondered if the sound of the knocking had been the wind. Surely none of the younger carnies would be out causing mischief this late and in this weather by waking someone up and then running away.

A pale face ghosted into view. It was half hidden in the shadow cast by the lantern hanging from the wagon across the way.

She pulled the door open far enough for her abnormally tall visitor to fit through, then gestured at him to come in. “Etch, what's wrong? Are you sick?”

She was already halfway across the wagon to where she kept her healing kit in her makeshift work space when he answered. “No. That is not... why I am here.”

With his accented words came a pause while he shivered. Etri became cold so easily. What could possibly be his reason for being out in weather this unseasonably chilly? Changing her plans, but not her destination as her work space was also her kitchen, she set the kettle on the top of the stove and added a few more lumps of coal to the banking flames. When she turned back around to talk to him again, she jumped when she saw him standing behind her. His footsteps were so soft that this happened more frequently than she would like to admit. Trying to pretend as though he hadn't startled her, she grabbed her stool from under the counter and placed it in front of the fire. “Sit. What's wrong that you're out in this lousy weather so late?”

Etri lowered himself down onto the stool as best he could with his long legs in the way and held his hands up to the heat of the stove. Despite always being cold, he never wore gloves. He said that the sleeves of his coat kept them warm, but for someone as practical as Etri, this seemed suspiciously like stupid reasoning.

Once his teeth were no longer chattering, he replied in a voice that was almost too low for her to hear. “I can stay with you tonight, yes? I did not wish to ask...”

This time his pause was him trailing off the sentence. His question would have sounded like an imposing statement from anyone else, but that was simply how Etri worded questions. Although fluent in Concordian, he hadn't yet grasped the idioms and structure behind the language. She also knew that he didn't mean anything behind the question; asked by any other carny, it would likely be an insinuation for company. With Etri, what he said was what he meant, usually in too few words to make himself clear.

Blythe was more familiar with him than most people were. This meant that, by association, she was also familiar with his brother. “Sol has someone over, doesn't he?”

Etri simply nodded. That nod, however, portrayed more than a simple agreement. Etri valued his space. He needed somewhere safe to retreat when he felt overwhelmed. Now someone new was in that space. Blythe set about getting out a mug so that she wouldn't do something stupid like charge across the camp and chew Sol out for being inconsiderate. He knew this about Etri as well as she did. “What did he say when you told him you didn't like that idea?”

Etri looked down at his hands. With his fingertips he brushed the stars tattooed on the inside of his left wrist. “I did not wish to inconvenience him. When he does this, I spend the night outside.”

Blythe found herself gripping the tin of tea leaves so tightly that the metal indented. She carefully set this down on the counter before speaking. “That isn't right.”

“I enjoy night, Blade. I find somewhere quiet and vacant. Tonight it is too cold.”

Blythe sighed as she wrapped the thick cloth over her hand to take the kettle from the stove. She knew how Etri felt about confrontation. He thought it was better to be uncomfortable than to say something that might upset his twin. “You can stay in Firedrake's old bed. I just wish you'd speak up for yourself sometimes.”

“That gains me naught. He finds a boyfriend and eventually brings the boyfriend home. It is not reasonable to deny him companionship. He does warn me ahead of time.”

Blythe had to admit that he had a point. With other roommates or siblings in the troupe, the one being imposed upon would usually just stay with their significant other. She had never had to worry about this because her sibling was as likely as she was to date someone, which was to say not at all. Etri was in the same situation, but not for the same reasons. Firedrake had walls built so thick around their heart that Blythe imagined it as a kind of castle. Blythe had simply never found anyone worthwhile. Performers were too frivolous for her and she could rarely spend time with many other Protectorates while living as a carny. Etri, though, seemed incapable of any kind of attraction. This Blythe couldn't understand, but she could certainly respect. Solitude was preferable.

She thought about this as she poured the tea and handed it to Etri. It wouldn't be steeped for several minutes, but in the meantime it would serve to keep his hands warm. She wasn't sure what to say to Etri to help his situation and he wasn't inclined to talk, so she busied herself by digging through her linen chest to find the blankets for the other bunk. “They're a little cedar smelly, but they're clean. Will you be okay?”

Etri gave her a small smile. He didn't smile often or in front of many people, so this always made Blythe feel a little special. “Thank you. I am sorry I woke you. You wish to return to sleep, yes?”

Blythe grinned sheepishly as she pulled her hand from her mouth where it had unsuccessfully been hiding a yawn. “Make sure you sleep. I know you're a night owl, but we have a performance tomorrow.”

When she was dozing off again she heard him say just above a whisper, “I will sleep. I am safe here.”

The aroma of something cooking wafted up to Etri's nose. His brother never cooked anything, although this was more a request from Etri than a choice on Sol's part. Sol could burn water, which wasn't much of an accomplishment when he was a fire Weaver. Not burning something would be an act of wonder without the magic. When these thoughts made their way through his groggy mind, Etri's eyes shot open and he pulled himself up on his elbows. If he wasn't home, where was he? His heart began to pound until his ears caught the sound of low humming. He sunk back into the pillow and took some deep breaths. He recognized that humming. Blythe always hummed while she was at work. This wasn't his bed, but here he was just as secure.

When his breathing had returned to normal, he pushed the brightly dyed bed curtain aside. The tiny bells sewn to the red fabric jingled merrily and Etri winced. Blythe looked up from the pattern she was sketching in her notebook and grinned at him when she noticed his reaction. “Sorry. I keep forgetting to cut those off. Every time I have the windows open they decide to play a song. I don't know what Firedrake was thinking.”

Etri looked over at Blythe's bunk. In comparison, the curtain that hid her bed was a neutral brown with a subtle plant design running along the bottom. Far more practical, just like Blythe herself. Practical, reserved- excepting the humming- and reliable. Those were the traits that had turned Blythe into his closest friend only a few weeks after meeting her. A few months later and he trusted her as much as he did his brother, except in one necessary way. He couldn't tell her about his magic.

He slid down from his bunk and as soon as his feet were on the floor, he reached back up to fold up the blankets. Blythe's voice stopped him before he could start. “Don't worry about that. Breakfast is on the stove.”

Etri turned around with a disbelieving look on his face. Blythe was as likely to cook as Sol was. She chuckled and amended, “I scooped it out of the pot at the cooking fire this morning. I had work to do for Wysta and figured you wouldn't want to go there. No one was even around to notice.”

How Blythe could voluntarily wake up so early was the one thing he didn't understand about her. No matter how late she went to bed, she was always awake before dawn. He wasn't about to complain, though. He didn't want to go home yet and he had even less of a desire to go to the cooking fire. That was the central meeting place for the troupe and this time of morning it would be swarming with chatty carnies. He liked this troupe well enough, but the thought of many of them in one place made him eternally grateful for Blythe's foresight.

After he tugged his boots back onto his feet, he walked over and picked up the empty bowl sitting next to the sink. When it rattled, he realized it wasn't as empty as he had thought. He looked down at the object in the bowl, then up at Blythe in confusion.

He held the key out to her. “You dropped this, yes?”

Blythe shook her head and begun to trim the leaves on the plant in front of her. It gave off a musky yet not unpleasant smell and he guessed this was one of the herbs she used for her healing pastes. Etri still considered Wysta almost a stranger, just like most of this troupe, and relied on Blythe whenever he came down with a cold. He was growing used to the smells of the tools she used since this happened frequently.

A head shake was still not an answer, however. “Blade?”

He saw her bite her lip, something she only did when she was particularly uncomfortable. “Look, I'm no good at saying stuff like this. Take the key. It was Firedrake's. Anytime you need to use it, you can.”

Etri stared down at the key in his hand. Its silver color contrasted sharply with the dark blue crescent moon tattooed on his palm. “I am to keep this, yes?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blythe put down the plant trimmings and turn her body so that she faced him. When he looked up at her face, he saw that she had a dirt smudge on her cheek. What he noticed most, though, was the serious look in her dark brown eyes. “Yes, Etch. Keep it. I want to give you a safe place you can go anytime you need it.”

These words made Etri's face break into a smile. She understood. Despite being as much a loner as he, she still offered this. Etri hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders. She remained stiffly still long enough for Etri to worry that this had been the wrong action. Then, to his relief, she hugged him back briefly.

After she let go, she picked up her tiny shears again. As she trimmed a few more leaves, she told him, “Now go eat before it gets all dried out.”

Etri planned on doing just that. First, though, he pulled the loop of cord from his pocket and unknotted it to slide the key next to the other two. The copper one with a stylized moon and sun wrought into the bow grip was for the lock on his wagon. The long one with a protective rune etched into the shaft opened the main entrance of the caravanserai in Silveridge, his previous home with the carnies in the capital city. Now Blythe had given him a third key, deceptively plain for the importance it carried. Three keys for the three places he felt safe.

I received The Occasional Diamond Thief by J A McLachlan from LibraryThing as part of the Early Reviews program.


Here's the summary from Amazon:
On his deathbed, Kia's father discloses a secret to her alone: a magnificent and unique diamond he has been hiding for years. Fearing he stole it, she too keeps it secret. She learns it comes from the distant colonized planet of Malem, where her father caught the illness that eventually killed him. Now she is even more convinced he stole it, as it is illegal for any off-worlder to possess a Malemese diamond. When 16-yr-old Kia is training to be a translator, she is co-opted by a series of events into travelling as a translator to Malem. Using her skill in languages and another skill she picked up after her father's death, the skill of picking locks - she unravels the secret of the mysterious gem and learns what she must do to set things right: return the diamond to its original owner. But how will she find out who that is when no one can know that she, an off-worlder, has a Malemese diamond? And how can she bear to part with this last link to her father? Kia is quirky, with an ironic sense of humour and a loner. Her sidekick, Agatha, is hopeless in languages and naive to the point of idiocy in Kia's opinion, but possesses the wisdom and compassion Kia needs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I first started reading this book, I was figuring that I wasn't going to like it much. Not because of the description, but because it's written in first person present tense. I tend to avoid first person books in general because I have a hard time connecting to those characters. Not many writers can pull it off and have a character who doesn't come off as perfect or self-centered or just plain annoying, and adding present tense into the mix? It has the potential to be a disaster.

Well, I was wrong. Incredibly wrong. McLachlan pulls off this writing style with grace and skill and I immediately found myself entranced by the story. Kia is a well-rounded and developed character. Yes, she has moments where she acts a little "know it all", but it was entirely accurate for the character: she's sixteen. Kia acts like a teenager, but more than that, she acts like a real person. Another thing I notice in first person books is that the non-main characters tend to not get a lot of development. McLachlan avoided this, too! This story had a few secondary and tertiary type characters who aren't around long enough to get the depth of the main character, but they didn't feel flat. The other main character, Agatha, was just as developed as the POV character. I loved how she didn't fit quite in with the other Selects (priest/esses, essentially) and that even though her personality clashed with Kia's, they were able to work together in a way that was believable and interesting.

I was so afraid when the author introduced not one, but two fairly jerk-ish boy characters that this book was going to turn into one of those YA books where the female protagonist inevitably falls for the obnoxious male character who never seems to have any redeeming qualities. Well, I wasn't disappointed there, either! Two thumbs up for McLachlan and how she approached the character in the "love interest" role.

And the world building! I love a book with lots of world building and this one had that! Not one but three cultures were mentioned with a fair amount of depth and I found myself itching to know more about the planets and cultures. The information about the cultures was never dropped in obtrusively and blended well into the narrative. I loved that the plot went beyond the personal experiences of the main character to involve the politics of the different planets. I'm not even a huge fan of sci-fi (I prefer fantasy) and I loved this. Then again, it wasn't an excessive amount of science fiction. What was there peppered the culture Kia comes from with detail to pull you into the world. Later in the book she was on a planet with very little technology, so it read more like something modern than futuristic. Even the beginning of the book, though, is the kind of sci-fi I like: enough to give you some bearing as to the character's surroundings and the technology, but not so heavy that you're bogged down with techno-babble. Writing out this review, I'm realizing that McLachlan truly does have a good balance of everything in this book.

As an aside, I got a kick out of the bit at the end written by Kia. "Occasional" indeed.

This was a book I didn't want to put down. It had everything I could want in a book: developed characters, thought-out world building, enough action to keep things interesting without hurting the dialogue and character development... Five stars and two thumbs up from me, along with a "would recommend" and "will read the rest of the series". (Please tell me there will be more books!)

I’m so intensely proud of these maps/blueprints! This Artisans’ Guild is a really interesting building where a bunch of my fantasy series takes place. It’s been powered and shaped and adjusted by magic for so many centuries that it almost has a life of its own. (In this country magic works through art.) With every season, the building is a little different. In the warm months it shimmers like a rainbow when the sun shines off it. In these months it seems to grow larger and wake up. It’s a completely different experience for my characters in book 1 (winter) than it is in book 2 (spring).

The most obvious thing is that this building is huge. That round grotto in the center? It’s about the size of my local park. Adair and Etri’s room is only slightly smaller than my entire apartment and that’s just one of the small rooms on the second floor (there’s a star marking it), if that helps with scale! Being this large and atop a hill in the center of the capital city, it’s the city’s defining feature; it’s how Silveridge got its name. (Ridge for the hill, silver for the color of the building.)

The coolest feature is that the building rotates. Every two hours or so, it rotates so that the next door faces the street/driveway leading up to the building. (On the first floor you can see 12 doors in the position of numbers on a clock.) This is so that the art studios always face the sun for the best light; by the next day, the building has done a full rotation. The building has a tall tower sticking up from one part and as this turns with the building, it functions as a clock for the city around it. (The culture has clocks and watches now, but originally this was a good way of keeping track of the time.) There’s stained glass everywhere- and those windows turn into doors when the building rotates to the front.

The first floor is the main one. It contains the art studios, the offices of the Grand Masters (there’s one for each branch of art- the highest ranking artist in that branch), the kitchen and dining room, the library/records room, etc. The key part is the grotto. This is the most arcane part because it’s where the ghosts of the founders (the Creators- they’re like gods) have the most influence. Strange things happen in the grotto and you can only get in if the Creators want you there. ;)

The second floor is the living area of the visiting artists (artists don’t live at the guild) and the docents (the equivalent of priest/esses) who do live here. The inset is what one of the artist rooms looks like. One thing of note: the lavatories aren’t separated by gender. There’s no reason to be when there are stalls for the tubs and toilets. This culture has had complete gender equality from the start and no one is more comfortable around their own gender verses another. (Plus this is a culture that accepts that there are more than two genders.) A lot of the hangups, hatreds, biases, etc the real world has are missing here. I love this!

The third floor only has three very large rooms: the ball room (where parties and celebrations are held), the art gallery, and the base of the “clock” tower. The top of the tower has a parapet around the front; I visualize this as looking a little like the walkway on my favorite lighthouse.

The last picture is underground. Here you have the really mundane stuff like storage, laundry, and the mechanics that make the building rotate directly under the first floor. (Magic may shape the technology, but a waterwheel does most of the work.) There’s also parts down here, lower than the mundane rooms, that only the docents and the Grand Masters know about. One is the crypt where the founders/Creators have their tombs. This is below the grotto, so no wonder they have the most power there! The “artisan record wall room” is what it sounds like. This is where there’s a memorial of all the members of the Artisan class, listed by death date. When these people die, they turn into ash (their magic burns the shell of their body), so this is their memorial rather than using a cemetery. This room becomes a plot point when a character stumbles into it and sees her name carved into the wall- when she’s very much alive.

This is so long and probably sounds so boring, but it’s really not! I promise! I’m having a lot of fun building a society of magical artists. :D

~Meri

Maps! Okay, these are technically blueprints or layouts, but I’ll share actual maps at some point soon. :) My characters are part of a carnival troupe, so they live in what I call carnival wagons until I can think of a better term. They’re something like a cross between a gypsy wagon and a motorhome.

While I've worked out that they have stoves and running water (pumped from a tank), I've been toying with the notion that instead of being pulled by horses or some kind of animal, they're pedal-powered. Magic can't grant propulsion, but this is a country where the magic users are the artists and inventors and magic supplements a lot of the technology. There's no reason why the wagons, large as they are, can't be driven like bicycles. Or maybe they hover off the ground slightly instead of using wheels and the pedaling powers a blower, kind of like a hovercraft? These ideas would work fine in the main country where magic is common and the land is flat with well-made roads. I'm not so sure how well it would work when the characters head into the mountains of the very cold north in book 3. I know I want to do something fantastical with these, though.

Anyway, back to the wagons. I think they uploaded to scale with each other. These are pretty plain sketches, but I'm happy with them because they give me a good idea of the layouts. The top one (Blythe's) is where a bunch of book 1 takes place since she shares it with another main character. (Adair is afraid of heights, so he can't stand the bunks. He sleeps on the floor instead.) The second wagon shows up almost as much since that's where the MCs' best friends live. The Healer wagon belongs to Blythe's mentor, so she's in there a few times during the course of the series.

I'm not set on the layout of the last wagon since that belongs with book 3 and I haven't started writing that one yet. All I can see in my head is Blythe grumbling over the fact that after having her own space for several years, she’s now stuck living with two people and they’re always in her way!

Oh, and it's kind of a joke that I put Adair's cat into each of my maps at least once. She'll show up again later. It's like a game of Where's Waldo. ;)

~Meri

“Hey! Ducky! Stay right there.”

Adair almost dropped the small sack when he heard that familiar voice call out in its authoritative tone. He did as he was instructed and waited until she stalked over to him. To his relief, she no longer held the nasty looking knife, but her presence itself was enough to make him want to run back to the inn and forget he'd ever had this stupid idea. While she wore a heavy coat now, her stage costume had revealed muscles in her arms and shoulders. With her lips pressed into a tight frown, she was more than a little intimidating.

He held the sack up in front of his chest, although whether as the intended offering or as a shield, he couldn't be sure. He gave a weak smile and hoped that an innocent expression would help. He had nothing else going for him at the moment besides a bag full of bribery pie.

She looked down at the sack then back up at Adair's face from under a fringe of dark bangs. Then back down at the sack. Then up at Adair again with narrowed eyes. Finally, after a long moment that made Adair wish he'd thought this through better, she asked, “Why are you handing me a bag?”

Perplexing her was at least start. Maybe keeping her confused was the way to go. “Peace offering?”

She took the sack somewhat reluctantly and peered inside, keeping it away from her face. Even from that distance the aroma wafted upwards and she wrinkled her nose. Adair's mouth began to water as the scent reached him. He really should have bought another one for himself.

She was eyeing him again, looking noticeably unimpressed. Everyone liked dessert! How could Adair have found the one person who didn't like sweets? “You brought me a pastry? What did you do to it?”

Adair was taken aback, unsure of what she meant. That wasn't the comment of hating chocolate that he expected. “All I did was carry it from the restaurant to here. I didn't eat it or something, if that's what you mean.”

She continued to stare. Adair fought the urge to fidget. Finally she seemed to reach a conclusion. “You really wouldn't think about tainting food, would you?”

Oh, so that was what she had meant! “Why... why would I do that?”

“Simple. Because you're trying to get where you don't belong.”

Adair gaped at her. That kind of reasoning was so foreign to his way of thinking that he couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around damaging food. “No! I just thought you'd be nicer and not wave your knife around at me if I did something nice for you first.”
- From the current draft of Unexpected Inspiration: Colorweaver (book 1)

More character art! I commissioned this one from ilovezombiesxxx on DeviantArt. If you’re looking for custom art, check her out! I love Ty’s drawing style! It’s a little cartoony while being somewhat realistic, which is fun, and it was her use of colors that drew me to contact her. I love how fluid and vibrant the colors are in her art!

Anyway, this art is of three of my main characters in the “Unexpected Inspiration” trilogy: Blythe, Adair, and Etri. The blurb is from the day Adair met Blythe and ... well, he’s really big on pies and desserts, so it went well with the art. I love how Blythe has this expression on her face like “Where the heck did you manage to find another pie??” Adair’s obsession with food is actually what earns him Blythe and Etri’s friendships; he tends to use food to get on peoples’ good sides and it usually works. ;)

Here's a short summary about the characters. Blythe is trained as a warrior and serves as their carnival troupe’s assistant healer, blade dancer, and part-time guard. (She has her favorite knife on her belt and the flowers in her hair represent that she loves plants and gardening.) Adair is one of the few non-carnies in the series (although by book 2 he's part of the troupe with the others) and is a cartographer/painter with illusion magic; he got his tattoo-like skin discoloration thanks to a magical mishap. (He has his paintbrush behind his ear and the sling across his chest holds his painting supplies.) Etri is the carnival troupe’s fire eater and knife performer, as well as working as a sort-of thief on the side. (He’s incredibly foreign, so he’s much taller and paler than anyone else in the series.) These three end up in a relationship by the end of Book 1 (Colorweaver). Part of the plot of book 2 (Sentinel) involves them discovering that they accidentally ended up with a psychic/empathetic link. This link is normal for Adair's subculture and is essentially the artists’ form of marriage- which the three wander into pretty blindly. Hilarity, some drama, and more pies ensue.


~Meri