Price of Admission

(From the story universe of Hellion House)

To prospective students at the University of Londria:

Thank you so much for expressing interest in attending our institution. We are more than delighted to escort you on a guided tour of the campus on Tuesday next.

Please note: since the fall of the Citadel and withdrawal of protection by the Conclave, there are changes in campus policy and practice. The tour will begin at three o’clock sharp. Please be punctual so that the tour, which is expected to take two hours, may commence and therefore conclude well before sunset. Those more than ten minutes late will be dropped from the guest list.

All college gates are closed and locked at dusk for security. Visitors are advised to clear the grounds before that time. Furthermore, visitors are encouraged to plan for emergencies, specifically defense against the Unseen. The University of Londria is not responsible for incidents of a predatory nature, so please arm accordingly.

This tour will be conducted on foot. Ladies are encouraged to dress in footwear suitable for running.

Yours most sincerely,

Bertram Miles, Esq.

Assistant Dean of Admissions

The Univeristy

The existence of Londria’s university arose organically out of the earliest books. As soon as Olivia Fletcher existed, so did her academic aspirations and therefore an institution where she could realize them.

This is a departure from the typical Victorian milieu, where the female of the species exists to cast a warm, fuzzy glow at the heart of the home and occasionally die of consumption (artistically, of course). Londria is under siege by monsters, and therefore women share in the work of survival, regardless of class.

That said, there is still pressure, in the uppermost income bracket, to devote oneself to the role of society wife. This may include promoting familial advancement through marriage, arranging salons, and designing witty canapes, which does constitute a full-time occupation even without the demands of social media. Nevertheless, everyone starts out with an education aimed toward a paid occupation. An individual with sufficient means and intelligence would attend university. For those without means but with outstanding brains, scholarships are available.

As humans rely on technology (and magic) to keep the Unseen from devouring all and sundry, the study of science and engineering receives the most attention. After all, someone has to design all those clever ray guns. Yes, there are faculties of literature and fine art, although they enjoy less emphasis. Humanity differentiates itself by the stories it tells itself and the beauty it creates, but not getting eaten is still top of the to-do list.

Campus

The university’s original buildings are old, built before the Great Disaster that occurred in late Tudor times. Clever observers recorded that was the moment everything went dreadfully awry, mostly due to dragons and other hungry monsters, and building programs were diverted to making a great big wall. Civic buildings took a back seat. Ergo, the core of the campus is medieval, much like Oxford or Cambridge, but smaller.

As Londria is a walled city, real estate is at a premium and the university aims to support itself with kitchen and rooftop gardens wherever they can be accommodated. There are limited open lawns and playing fields, and what exists is multi-purpose and carefully scheduled to maximize access. However, the span of the river safely within the city walls is popular for boating, and there is a very popular rowing club dedicated to mayhem and occasional water sports.

Buildings adjacent to the university were absorbed as the student population expanded, but with resources at a premium very little was torn down and rebuilt. One exception is purpose-built residences on site for students. In addition, faculty might reside in town or have rooms on campus. Olivia’s professors reside in Starling Hall, with their personal quarters attached to the study where they tutor students.

There is, of course, a main library as well as faculty-specific collections. However, given the cost of producing and shipping books in general, the libraries do not lend out their treasures freely. Most required reading happens on-site.

Student Life

University is (in general) the time for many young people to find mentors, lovers, and their first defining pratfalls and victories. For Olivia, the highly competitive Faculty of Mathematics offers her the environment she likes best – structured, rational, and with clear markers of achievement and hierarchy. She knows where she fits in. For the first time, she has a serious suitor and a set of friends that is uniquely her own. She exists beyond her siblings and her home.

Sadly, in Queen’s Tide, that precious structure is shattered and her inner resources are tested because, well, the plot requires blood. Authors are horrible. Readers are ravening beasts demanding trial and tribulation in the name of entertainment.

There will be a fictional characters’ union meeting shortly after the university tour, assuming anyone survives.

Megastore of the Monsters

Buffy the Vampire Slayer alleged that the Hellmouth was beneath the school gym. This makes sense if you’re Buffy’s age, but that Hellmouth is for beginners. The real, adult version lurks somewhere in the junk food section of the local big box store.

Necromancy was in the air this weekend as I strolled from the parking lot to the land of discount everything. Or maybe I was catching the scent of French fries and unfocussed rage as 10,000 overtired adults crammed shopping carts into a single lane aisle. Being an author, it made me daydream of monsters. Not just zombies (that metaphor for consumerism has been done and done again), but the rest of the fright night crew.

What would one find at a discount warehouse for paranormal creatures? For mummies, perhaps a crate load of moisturizer and bougie laundry detergent made for Egyptian cotton. For vampires, bulk eyeliner and flats of juice boxes of blood with wee bendy straws (kept far from the garlic display). In the book department, why not have towers of that latest bestseller beach read, The Golden Crypts of Summer? Each volume comes with a bonus gift of complimentary sunscreen, SPF 1000.

Werewolves came to mind a lot, especially when I encountered piles of huge, fluffy dog beds. Heck, I wanted to curl up in them as a quivering heap and dissociate from the chaos. But offerings for our trusty shifters wouldn’t end there. Perhaps there would also be flea collars disguised as neckties, or spiky goth collars with tracking devices for those moonlit nights when events get out of hand.

Not to mention all the tasty treats at the fast-food concession. Entrails with mustard! Bun optional! I mean, that’s kinda what hot dogs are, anyway, right?

Come Halloween, the little ones would have endless choice of pre-packaged, horrifying costumes. Parents would have to deal with whines of “Puleeez can I go as a tax accountant, Daddy?” as they paw at the bagged pinstriped jacket and comb-over wig hanging on the peg board. But what if mom says no? Does the overwhelmed little pup melt down for a howl in the manner of all toddlers of every species?

But that pup is pack. I imagine all the adults in the store howling back to comfort that tiny, bruised heart. I like to think this monsterized version of the big box is a less scary place than the human one I left with my shopping cart of hard-fought plunder.

Useless (or not) to a Degree

Debate abounds around careers and jobs and the correct educational path to achieve success. This isn’t new, nor is philosophizing about what success actually looks like. I’m a writer. In my case, success is gathering enough minutes into uninterrupted hours to actually get some work done, and there’s no certificate that can make that happen.

On that note, I am occasionally asked what degree one should take to be a writer. Honestly, that depends a lot on one’s tastes and the options available. A degree is a fabulous achievement and a worthy end in itself, but is not to be confused with a career destination. Put another way, what it says on the box isn’t always what it will mean for your ambitions. This is especially relevant when it comes to the ambiguous domain of the arts.For instance, when I attended university, the Creative Writing department was having a good existential wallow. Anything with a linear plot and clear resolution was shaken from the soles of their Birkenstocks with scorn. They published a well-regarded literary magazine that left me bored and confused. For me, who wanted to write classic adventure stories, it wasn’t a good fit.

I took myself to the English Literature department and signed on for four years spent reading books, which is what I did everyday anyway. It was bliss. Plus, it taught me things I wanted to know. We studied plot structure, literary technique, the use of language for effect, and how great works both reflected and changed societal attitudes. We studied comedy and drama and how plots with a bit of each weaved together to keep the audience’s appetite engaged. And, we studied characterization, from Homer to Shakespeare to Dickens and Austen. The material ran the gamut from antiquity to living authors to romantic poets and Victorian gothic fiction. Nothing was off the table, and it was up to me to decide where to focus. What a banquet!

Not every new author would be as besotted as I was, but I loved learning how to break down a work of literature and analyze what made it tick. More than that, I loved the autonomy to like what I liked without apology. I spent my time between semesters workshopping a series of totally unpublishable novels using what I’d studied. Those books will never see daylight, but they formed me as an author. When I graduated, I still had lots to learn about specific genres, but I came away with a voice and a respectable toolkit of techniques.
Today, universities have more options. There are degree programs in popular fiction. There are also tons of on-line workshops and conferences, which is infinitely more doable for most than signing on for four years steeped in literary criticism. I recognize that I was extremely lucky to have scholarships, indulgent parents, and the kind of time that only exists when you’re nineteen.

What I realize in retrospect is that I was operating on a very old method of teaching, which was copywork. Art students used to learn their brushwork by reproducing the masters. I was learning by studying and replicating as well. This method doesn’t need a degree, just good observational skills and a wide appetite. I personally recommend learning a bit of literary analysis, but I’m biased.

The point is, think about what you read and don’t stick to the familiar. Look at poetry, drama, and essays as well as fiction. The real value of my degree was examining a huge variety of material. However you choose to study—formally, casually, with a specialization or ad hoc—it’s about stockpiling your brain with ideas and the skills to make them work. Future you on book 40 will be thankful, because you won’t be repeating yourself.

A certificate in a frame is nice, but its real value is whether or not it contributes to your artistic survival skills. That’s up to you. Keep bringing new content to the table. Don’t get stuck in a genre echo chamber. Keep readers engaged by offering them something fresh. In the end, serving your audience is what matters.

A Witch’s Garden

This is one of those topics that comes with caveats because, I am sure, a witch’s garden is whatever the witch wants it to be. Gardens are reflective of their caretaker’s personalities and therefore as unique as each individual and purpose. And, as with a witch’s cat, a witch’s garden (any garden, really) will have its own agenda.

The Basics

That said, there will be guiding principles. In traditional folklore, witches lived in an agrarian setting, either as part of a community or adjacent to it. It stands to reason that, whatever else the witch was up to, they most likely planted a kitchen garden: herbs, vegetables and, if they were fortunate, a few fruit trees. There were likely some pretty flowers to attract pollinators and ensure a fruitful harvest.

Does that sound disappointingly mundane? It shouldn’t. Just because plants are well-known to us, don’t assume they are without enchantment. Apples have long association with myth and magic—from Snow White to Avalon, they are the go-to item in the fairy tale produce aisle. Helen of Troy might have been the face that launched a thousand ships, but it was the prize of a golden apple that started it all.

Sadly, I’m short of heroic legends featuring kale.

Medicinal Gardens

It’s fairly well-established that historically witches tended to be older single women with opinions and, more notably, land and fortunes the male elders felt would be better off in other hands. Say, their hands. As part of the property transfer process, these troublesome females were accused of concocting poisons, curses, and spells. Noxious herbs were prominently featured.

A knowledge of healing herbs was part of any housewife’s toolkit. They would be grown or gathered in season and preserved for future uses. What those herbs were varied depending on local practice, but a few are easily identified. Eyebright, for instance, is easy to use for making an eyewash effective for seasonal allergies. Heart’s ease, also known as wild pansy, has been used since the Middle Ages for cardiovascular and autoimmune issues. These plants were used so widely they were named for their healing properties.

Danger Gardens

What can cure, can kill. Plants are at the front of this line. An easy example is digitalis, or foxglove. While it’s the basis of an effective medication, it features in dozens of mystery novels as the heart-attack-inducing herbal slipped into a victim’s tea. Similarly, the right kind of eucalyptus infused in honey is a great cough syrup. The wrong kind is only good for koala bears. Even common culinary herbs, like thyme, can have adverse health effects in the wrong doses.

This is the territory of the Hollywood witch’s garden. Or, in more of a real-life setting, the Alnwick Poison Garden. On the surface, it might look fairly ordinary—mandrake is highly poisonous, but is just another bushy green thing to the untrained eye. Whether a curse or a cure, who needs magic when botany can do the heavy lifting?

To understand how to prepare and deploy the garden residents is the practitioner’s true power. A well-tended plant is very willing to show just how capable it can be. It’s only sensible to be cautious and very, very polite to whatever witches, fairies, or other garden keepers are about.

Magic Gardens

While gardens can feed, cure, or kill us, is there room for a magical element that would set a witch’s garden apart? Yes, I’m sure there is. I’ve been to gardens that felt special in a way that’s impossible to describe. I was taught as a child to leave a corner of the garden wild for the nature spirits, so maybe that makes the difference. The best words I have for those gardens with a little extra is harmony. They’re functioning as an energetic whole instead of a collection of manicured parts.

The witches in my books don’t always have gardens like the Carvers in the Dark Forgotten series do—some do live in apartments—but they do have an understanding of the energies that guide the botanical world. Healing is about restoring nature’s design. Evil is disrupting it. Vampires are in some ways outside nature—they have stepped beyond the norm into a kind of suspended state.

What kind of gardens would vampires have?  I found this post from the National Garden Bureau on goth gardens. I’m enchanted by the blenderized concoction of yogurt and moss that can be painted onto objects to encourage insta-mossy hardscaping.

Moody, Broody, and Tropey

The title does not refer to yet another remake of Snow White. I’m pondering the genre referred to as Dark Academia. I’ll say off the bat that I’ve found more references to clothing and décor than literature, and that some of it looks a bit like All Creatures Great and Small had a love child with The Munsters. All the same, I get (and adore) the overall preponderance of antiques, leather-bound books, mugs of tea, autumn rain, and resplendent classic fashion. Add a little string quartet music in the background and one is ready to think deep thoughts and get all moody and Byronic.

But, material trappings aside, what tropes define the literature? This isn’t the “high school for vampires” academy stories. This skews older and generally unhappier. Romance may or may not be the central theme. My favorite entry in the genre has so far been Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House series, which has paranormal elements, but many Dark Academia books do not.

So what’s common to most of the genre? To start with the obvious, a school. Preferably an old one with appropriate brick-and-ivy trappings. It should have a Classics department or an arts focus, definitely a lot of quotable literature about the place. Astronomy would be acceptable, but modern technology—y’know collider thingies or genetic whatsits—would require special handling. Mad botanists is one thing, but leather elbow patches just look odd on lab coats.

The characters are important. There’s usually a mentor figure—the resident Dumbledore—and close-knit friends. The protagonist is often an outsider, whether a newcomer to an elite group, or a super-brilliant person in an elite group, or an elite person with deep dark secrets in an elite group or—did I mention that there is an element of elitism here? Probably because those are the only social strata who can afford tuition at one of those old schools.

And secrets. Always secrets, and the unveiling of guilt, and squishy emo everywhere. Sometimes that means murder, corruption, and the explosion of the friend group. The protagonist—typically a young adult—learns that the world is a cruel place and their innocent little heart just got stomped. But fashionably, and with excellent black coffee, and while quoting Jacobean poetry.

I love this stuff. It’s aspirational and ridiculous in equal measure. Best of all, it slides into my steampunk world with ease. Olivia attends the University of Londria, so creating a Dark Academia adventure for her—complete with murder mystery—was a perfect fit in Queen’s Tide. I’m having a ball. Watch out for the sea monsters.

Mysterious Mysteries

The newbie author is told to a) write to market and b) develop a unique brand and c) pray that these two directives do not collide in a shower of exploding adverbs. How is it possible to be unique and replicate a niche trend at the same time?

I’ve pondered this for a while. As a rule, I write a mashup of paranormal romance, steampunk, fantasy, and a pinch of horror. It’s all the niches at once and definitely not written to market. However, after the first 20+ books, my writing style doesn’t change much from book to book. My voice is solid, even if my marketing sense is on a bender.

That said, every so often I get a bright idea to try something new. Most recently, I thought I’d try writing a classic mystery. Properly. Following an outline, and all that. It was time to learn new chops.

Hunting down a cheat sheet with the requisite outline made sense. Writerly how-to can be gold or complete twaddle, but a basic series of plot beats was easy to adapt to the characters and setting I had in mind. In fact, the structure felt comforting while I was trying something new.

What I wasn’t prepared for is the amount of up-front detail a mystery requires. Not only did I have to know exactly how the murder happened and who did it, but also the suspects and their means, motive, and opportunities. On top of that, I have to keep a running record of what’s been revealed and to whom. All writing has its difficulties, but mysteries require monumental attention to detail. So far, I’m loving it.

What’s the same is all the things that make my writing my own: character development, setting, theme, and the quirky madness that lurks within my mental landscape. I think that’s the answer to the paradox of niche and brand—know your own writing so well, so intrinsically, that you can pour it into varying containers without changing its essential nature. And if the container feels wrong, discard it. The writing comes first, every time.

Trying different tropes and genres can be tricky for new writers. It’s easy to be a chameleon at that stage. I used to sound like the author I’d just read and had to avoid certain voices lest they creep onto my pages. Even now, I avoid Dickens unless I’m writing a period piece.

So, to go back to the writing advice at the top of this piece:

1. Know what piece of the marketplace you’re aiming for. Know the tropes, expectations, and structure of the genre.
2. Know who you are as a writer and think about how well that niche will work for you. Remember that you can adore something without having to write it, but the reverse is hard to pull off.
3. Try it and see how it works. Make magic. If it’s not for you, there are a million other genres and sub-genres to check out. Smash a few together and make something new.

That’s as close to advice as I’m qualified to give. Oh, and watch out for exploding adverbs.

Dragon portraits

Many cover designers begin their work with stock photography. This presents a distinct problem when your cover requires, say, a dragon. They’re notoriously hard to photograph.

Now, I know it’s getting easier to ask software to generate an image, but I went another route when I recently recovered the Dragon Lords series. A wonderful designer who had helped me in the past (doing the original designs for this website and its predecessor) came back into my orbit at just the right time. I knew Rowan, the artist behind Windloft Workshop, to be an exceptional dragon portraitist, and put in my request tout de suite. These are rendered by hand, although done with digital tools.

For those curious about the process underlying this kind of illustration, I asked about the process. Here is Rowan’s answer:

Next comes the blending and modelling of the various shapes and forms of the beast to make them look 3D, usually using a soft tool to make nice smooth gradients. Hard edges are left in or reapplied as necessary to create sharper transitions, texture, etc. I generally take it very close to completion at this stage, adding airbrushed shadows and highlights overtop where needed, and adjusting contrast to push the values further if I went too conservatively with them.

Once Upon a Time is Now

It’s not often that I can pinpoint a specific inspiration for a story. Usually, it just lurches from the swamp of my brain and lands on the page with a muddy splat. But the spark of the Camelot Reborn series had a very clear beginning, even if it sat dormant for a very long time.

I remember standing in Salisbury Cathedral when I was about twelve, staring down at the stone face of a knight. Although it was August, the medieval building was cold, the only light filtering through towering windows of stained glass. The vaulted ceiling created echoes that went on for days, and my imagination went into overdrive.

The statue was life-sized and in full armor, an effigy stretched in eternal sleep upon his tomb. He grasped a sword against his chest, and a lion curled protectively at his feet—a symbol of courage.

Who was he? Could I wake him with a kiss, Sleeping-Beauty style? Would he sit up and look around at the new modern world? Of course, he would be devoted to twelve-year-old me, infinitely grateful to be revived. And, naturally, there would be an equally interesting villain just waiting in the wings. What fabulous adventures would follow!

I’ll pause to add that I knew very little about knights when I was twelve. If Sir Whatever had awakened in good health and sound mind, I doubt he would have been happy to learn his estates were now a warehouse grocery emporium. Furthermore, no, he could not use the longsword to emphasize his opinion on the matter. And even further furthermore, I doubt he’d understand a word anyone said. The English language has changed dramatically since the Crusades.

But I digress. My tender tween heart was an innocent thing.

When I began the Camelot Reborn series, I remembered my knight in his lonely sleep. What if the Knights of the Round Table—enchanted into sleeping stone—had been scattered to museums and private collections? If they had to be awakened one by one to reunite with their brothers and defeat a threatening enemy? What if Sir Gawain, a hot-tempered, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome knight, was roaming about town, eager to fight or carouse or sweep my heroine off her feet?

Apparently, I liked that notion and stuck with it. My heroine is a thoroughly modern historian named Tamsin Greene. She’s the key to finding the other knights, but she’s also a powerful witch—and if there’s one thing that Gawain refuses to trust, it’s sorcery. But he’s not going to get the maid without her magic, and little does Tamsin know that Gawain holds the key to an ancient secret that changes everything she believes about her own past.

Not even Merlin can prevent these fireworks and, yes, he gets a few of his own.

Want to learn more? Check out Enchanted Warrior here.

Bees With Attitude

Writing engages both emotions and intellect, but it’s primarily a mental exercise. Sometimes I need to get out of my head and back into the physical world. For that, there is nothing as satisfying as dirt. Dogs roll in it. Children make mud pies. Adults are just as entranced, but they call it gardening.

My fondness for grubbing in the yard intersects nicely with character research into herbalism and the healing arts. Many of my stories involve magic, witches, herbwives, or even just medicines from a period when people brewed their own tinctures and syrups. Sensory information—the touch/taste/scent of plants—is excellent detail sure to pull readers right into a scene.  Plus, I can use the results in the kitchen. It’s a win/win all around, especially since I’m all about creating an oasis from the concrete and chaos of the urban environment.

It’s impossible to garden without forming an acquaintance with pollinators, especially bees. We tend to think of honeybees as the main event, but they aren’t native to North America and in fact have pushed out some of their native cousins. A few years ago, I began hatching mason bees, which are small critters local to my area, and got a bumper crop of apples as a thank-you. It’s March, and I’m still eating last year’s produce—a significant savings at the grocery till.

Mason bees build their nests with mud walls between each egg (hence the name). They’re also called orchard bees. They’re active from around April to June and do most of the fruit tree pollination. Their range is only a few city lots, so it makes sense to put up a bee house to guarantee their services.

Where I have trouble is encouraging them to nest—I put out the cocoons and they hatch just fine, but they never stick around to lay their eggs. The sense of failure is real. It’s like getting one-star reviews from your spa visitors. This year, I’ve put up a house built by a local expert who has far more experience in bee accommodations.

The other thing I’ve considered is the menu. While dandelions are plentiful, they aren’t native and don’t have enough nutrition. Good-for-bees flowers will vary widely depending on geography, so I went to an indigenous plant nursery. This was fun—the place had very little I was familiar with, even though the seedlings on offer actually belong to this part of the world.

I came out with Sea Blush (Plectritis congesta). It’s a pretty purple flower from the Valerian family that grows wild in the Pacific Northwest, and it will feed the young mason bees when they hatch. Hopefully it’s a crowd-pleaser!

Yes, that’s a lot of random information about bees, but gardens need them. It’s estimated that one out of every three bites of food we eat depends on bee pollination.

Another cool fact about mason bees? Every female is a queen.

I love the attitude.

Medieval to Modern

I love a good historical romance/adventure/fantasy. I love the swords and the sorcery, the tournaments, the gowns, and the oh-so-buff knightly knights. But I love them in my imagination, where I can omit the mud, disease, and bad dentistry. My standard response to those who chirp, “Oh, wouldn’t you just love to go back in time?” is a hard nope.

I have similar discussions with a good friend who loves camping and periodically tries to tempt me into the great outdoors. Yes, I adore nature, as seen from the patio of a quaint wine bar with a view of rolling vineyards. But that’s another rant …

Back to the hazards of time travel. It took me a while to shake off an inexplicable sense of guilt because, as a writer and lover of history, I SHOULD want to embrace the authentic past, chilly toes and all. But I don’t.

I have slept in an actual castle, and let me say cold and damp clings to ancient stone like a spectral lover. Should Guinevere encounter central heat and hot water, she would have mounted a crusade of a whole other kind to get it installed at good old Camelot.

Maybe it was this brutal truth that inspired me to set my Arthurian romances in the present day. There are occasional romps in the past with Ye Olde Authentick Mudde, but for the most part the Knights of the Round Table get to shower and order take-out. They also have jobs in a medieval theme park, because their skill sets are pretty specific. It’s a fun-to-write combination, where my imagination gets to play in two worlds at the same time. Enchanted Warrior, the first Camelot Reborn novel features Gawain, the hot-head of the bunch. He’s courageous and studly and, well, has a few things to learn about modern women. Fortunately, he’s one fish-out-of-water that’s worth the catch.

What’s not to love, when one can have all the swashbuckling drama and modern comfort both? That’s a fantasy I can get behind—and if there’s an occasional misplaced wizard, oh well. Merlin always was the outlier, whatever time period he was in. That gives his particular story a very special twist.