1. Wandering around the rock of Cashel, I find myself attracted, not to the ruined, soaring vaults of the chapel and the cathedral, but to the tiny, grotesque faces in the corner. See, most of the consecrated sites we’ve been visiting have been interesting as history or architecture or research for the book, but as sacred sites, they’ve left me cold.  

There is one exception- the well of St. Declan.  The ruined abbey in which the saint reportedly spend the last years of his life had that absolutely safe feeling I usually get in holy places.  “Close your eyes.” Our guide said.  “See with your senses.”  I did, and I swear, I felt something.  Like someone standing next to me.  It was probably Dr. C, my mentor- it felt fatherly, which, if it was a sacred encounter, is odd for me- I feel so much more affinity for G-d as a Mother.  Still, there was something there.  So, when our guide invited us to drink from the holy well, I did. 

Looking at the faces carved under arches and around doorways, I am reminded of the possibility that they come from an earlier religion.  They, too might be outsiders here.  We understand each other, I feel.  They don’t fit the imposing structure; they’ve carried their histories here, to the present, in beautiful, ungainly ways.  They are strangers in a strange land.

I was talking with my other professor here, in another cathedral, weeks ago.  “I feel like I’m tracking mud into someone’s home.” I joke.  Inside, I wince.  When did I internalize the idea that I’m somehow unclean? I think about all the times my people have been called dirty, unholy, and all the rest.  For all the anti-Semitism I’ve experienced, no one’s ever said those words to me.  So why am I carrying them?
Later, we go to an abandoned abbey.  I pick flowers, I climb.  Gradually, I fall into a reverie.  Later, talking to a friend, I say “Most of the churches we’ve visited haven’t been my house, but the abandoned ones feel more like home- we all have to share the earth.” She nods.  
“The Earth’s the Lord’s and everything in it.”  She says.  It’s not exactly what I mean, but I don’t argue.

    Wandering around the rock of Cashel, I find myself attracted, not to the ruined, soaring vaults of the chapel and the cathedral, but to the tiny, grotesque faces in the corner. See, most of the consecrated sites we’ve been visiting have been interesting as history or architecture or research for the book, but as sacred sites, they’ve left me cold. 

    There is one exception- the well of St. Declan.  The ruined abbey in which the saint reportedly spend the last years of his life had that absolutely safe feeling I usually get in holy places.  “Close your eyes.” Our guide said.  “See with your senses.”  I did, and I swear, I felt something.  Like someone standing next to me.  It was probably Dr. C, my mentor- it felt fatherly, which, if it was a sacred encounter, is odd for me- I feel so much more affinity for G-d as a Mother.  Still, there was something there.  So, when our guide invited us to drink from the holy well, I did. 

    Looking at the faces carved under arches and around doorways, I am reminded of the possibility that they come from an earlier religion.  They, too might be outsiders here.  We understand each other, I feel.  They don’t fit the imposing structure; they’ve carried their histories here, to the present, in beautiful, ungainly ways.  They are strangers in a strange land.

    I was talking with my other professor here, in another cathedral, weeks ago.  “I feel like I’m tracking mud into someone’s home.” I joke.  Inside, I wince.  When did I internalize the idea that I’m somehow unclean? I think about all the times my people have been called dirty, unholy, and all the rest.  For all the anti-Semitism I’ve experienced, no one’s ever said those words to me.  So why am I carrying them?

    Later, we go to an abandoned abbey.  I pick flowers, I climb.  Gradually, I fall into a reverie.  Later, talking to a friend, I say “Most of the churches we’ve visited haven’t been my house, but the abandoned ones feel more like home- we all have to share the earth.” She nods. 

    “The Earth’s the Lord’s and everything in it.”  She says.  It’s not exactly what I mean, but I don’t argue.

  2. flotsamandwhatnot:

thequietrabbit:

rachel wolchin

Beautiful might not be good at emotions. Not now. Not yet.
But their acquaintances (friends?) are. Heart-on-the-sleeve types.
And if they understand nothing else, they under stand a mission. They understand revenge.

A shared world done with a few friends of mine,  Hey, Beautiful- Moon says thanks. 

    flotsamandwhatnot:

    thequietrabbit:

    rachel wolchin

    Beautiful might not be good at emotions. Not now. Not yet.

    But their acquaintances (friends?) are. Heart-on-the-sleeve types.

    And if they understand nothing else, they under stand a mission. They understand revenge.

    A shared world done with a few friends of mine,  Hey, Beautiful- Moon says thanks. 

    Reblogged from: flotsamandwhatnot
  3. Neverland AU ♔ Red-Handed Jill (100 Years Ago)
    "I was told you ran away from home."
    "I… I had never thought of it that way. I suppose I did."
    "How wonderful!"
    Reblogged from: okayophelia
  4. There are worse things, it occurred to Phoenix, than making a new friend on a guided tour of London.  And while there may be better things than finding said friend in the company of one of one’s favorite professors, Dr. Mara Alighieri was probably an fairly good travel companion, and if Phoenix had to pick one of her professors to be standing in the police station, having a heated discussion with the district chief, trying to get her and her new friend released, it would almost definitely be Dr. A. 
None of which lessened the sinking feeling in her stomach as Mara stood at the door to the holding tank, looking unimpressed.  She gave Phoenix a withering look.
“I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She said, rolling her eyes.  She turned to look at the figure next to her.  “Lady Iris.”
“Yes?” she said.  She looked, for all the world, like a young twentysomething with long red hair and a secretive smile.  Mara rolled her eyes.
“I promised I wouldn’t you get arrested.” Mara said.  Iris grinned “In Ireland.  You swore you’d not let me get in trouble back there.  We are in Britain this weekend and I’m free!” She said, laughing.  “And have I not found a wonderful companion, who I simply must introduce.  Phoenix-”
“Actually, I know her from back home.” Phoenix said, looking sheepish.  “She’s a professor, at Haven-”
“Oh right, I remember!” she said.  “My dear lightbringer told me about that.” She grinned.  “Well, then perhaps we’d all best be on our way- I saw this wonderful looking pub.”
“Not so fast.” Mara said.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you both are in?  You enchanted King’s Cross station, stole a child and climbed to the top of St. James’ cathedral with him, made flower crowns out of the churchyard flowers, threw tomatoes at the Globe, and finally somehow wound up wandering the throne room in Buckingham Palace, shouting bits of Monty Python’s Holy Grail at the top of both of your lungs! And you, ambassador, had several knives.”
Iris rolled her eyes.  “First of all,” she said “I was under the impression that King’s Cross station was supposed to be a planter portal.  Second, the child wanted to go to the top, and if I had not helped him up he may well have gotten stuck.  Anyway, I met my companion in mischief there, so I do not regret it all and child was unharmed.  As to the flower crowns, what is nature for, if not enjoying to its fullest? Surely, your human gods understand this. Third, I was under the impression that was how one still conducted oneself at the theater on Earth, when I went there last it was perfectly acceptable.  Mind you, I haven’t been back to the Globe since it burned, so I suppose a misunderstanding was inevitable.  Finally, I was simply calling on the local authorities in an informal way. Weapons are an important part of my cultural heritage, and as such asking me to go unarmed is reprehensible.”
Mar rolled her eyes.  “You’re lucky you have diplomatic immunity.” She growled.  Then she gave Phoenix an unamused look.
“You, however, don’t.  Do you know hard I had to argue to get you released?  What were you even doing on the roof of St. James’ anyway?”
Phoenix looked away, mumbling.  Mara crossed her arms.  “I can’t hear you.” She said.

“Taking selfies with the statues.” She said.  

    There are worse things, it occurred to Phoenix, than making a new friend on a guided tour of London.  And while there may be better things than finding said friend in the company of one of one’s favorite professors, Dr. Mara Alighieri was probably an fairly good travel companion, and if Phoenix had to pick one of her professors to be standing in the police station, having a heated discussion with the district chief, trying to get her and her new friend released, it would almost definitely be Dr. A. 

    None of which lessened the sinking feeling in her stomach as Mara stood at the door to the holding tank, looking unimpressed.  She gave Phoenix a withering look.

    “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” She said, rolling her eyes.  She turned to look at the figure next to her.  “Lady Iris.”

    “Yes?” she said.  She looked, for all the world, like a young twentysomething with long red hair and a secretive smile.  Mara rolled her eyes.

    “I promised I wouldn’t you get arrested.” Mara said.  Iris grinned “In Ireland.  You swore you’d not let me get in trouble back there.  We are in Britain this weekend and I’m free!” She said, laughing.  “And have I not found a wonderful companion, who I simply must introduce.  Phoenix-”

    “Actually, I know her from back home.” Phoenix said, looking sheepish.  “She’s a professor, at Haven-”

    “Oh right, I remember!” she said.  “My dear lightbringer told me about that.” She grinned.  “Well, then perhaps we’d all best be on our way- I saw this wonderful looking pub.”

    “Not so fast.” Mara said.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you both are in?  You enchanted King’s Cross station, stole a child and climbed to the top of St. James’ cathedral with him, made flower crowns out of the churchyard flowers, threw tomatoes at the Globe, and finally somehow wound up wandering the throne room in Buckingham Palace, shouting bits of Monty Python’s Holy Grail at the top of both of your lungs! And you, ambassador, had several knives.”

    Iris rolled her eyes.  “First of all,” she said “I was under the impression that King’s Cross station was supposed to be a planter portal.  Second, the child wanted to go to the top, and if I had not helped him up he may well have gotten stuck.  Anyway, I met my companion in mischief there, so I do not regret it all and child was unharmed.  As to the flower crowns, what is nature for, if not enjoying to its fullest? Surely, your human gods understand this. Third, I was under the impression that was how one still conducted oneself at the theater on Earth, when I went there last it was perfectly acceptable.  Mind you, I haven’t been back to the Globe since it burned, so I suppose a misunderstanding was inevitable.  Finally, I was simply calling on the local authorities in an informal way. Weapons are an important part of my cultural heritage, and as such asking me to go unarmed is reprehensible.”

    Mar rolled her eyes.  “You’re lucky you have diplomatic immunity.” She growled.  Then she gave Phoenix an unamused look.

    “You, however, don’t.  Do you know hard I had to argue to get you released?  What were you even doing on the roof of St. James’ anyway?”

    Phoenix looked away, mumbling.  Mara crossed her arms.  “I can’t hear you.” She said.

    “Taking selfies with the statues.” She said.  

  5. “Honestly, it’s the museums that are the worst.” Mara said, into her computer, looking pained.  “The background holiness just feels like a head cold with this.” She gestured to the sliver of horn hanging from a leather cord around her neck.  To the trained eye, it radiated a stark aura of demonic power, but to a normal human it would have appeared quiet and mundane.  Mara cupped it in her hand, protectively.
Half a world away, Ahavah sighed.  “I’m just glad you’re safe.  Why the museums?” Mara rolled her eyes.
“They’re more or less armoires against Demons, and Fey.  Still, that’s not really the problem.  It’s just- in Ireland, they’ve got this take on mythological time. I don’t understand it very well yet.  Do you know what they call the myth cycle that deals with their ancient understandings of history?”  Ahavah shook her head.  “They call it the Book of Invasions.” Mara said.  “But I think the invading forces were as much worlds as people.  The new reality would grow up, through the old, until you’ve got different realities, different histories, the same way Virgil, you know, Lucifer’s roommate, talks about it, all spiraled around and through each other.” Mara shook her head.  “This land has seen so many different versions of itself.” She sighed. 
“It reminds me of how young I really am.” Mara continued.  “Back in the states, most humans would tell you five hundred is old.  Older than the US as a nation.  But for a demon, I’m still young.  Which doesn’t usually bug me.  I can still pull off an air of authority with most of the students, since they all identify closer to teenagers, and mostly look younger. Not here, though.  Here, if I tried to present myself as an ancient creature of the night, I’d get laughed at. In Ireland, five hundred years is recent history. Well,” she looked thoughtful. “Not exactly.  Time still goes fast.  The past is still, in some ways, a different world, but in others it’s extremely present.  Events have layers and contexts that stretch back thousands of years, yet the past remains alive and present in a way that human history usually doesn’t.” She shook her head. “They keep time like immortals here.”
Ahavah nodded. “I know.” She smiled at Mara. “Time is never linear, least of all there.  Beings like us understand that the past has layers, but we forget that the shorter lifespan humans have doesn’t mean that they can’t dip into that same great sea.” She sighed.  “I wish I could be there with you, while you have intimations of mortality among the ruins, my love.  We’ll make a Romantic of you yet.”
Mara rolled her eyes.  “Spare me.” She said. “I’m here representing Hell.  You’d just get in trouble if you went with me, angel.” Ahavah looked wry. 
“Fine, but I’ll still need at least a week with you to myself for you to regale me with your stories when you get home.  I miss my wife!”  She said.  Mara smiled fondly.  “Anyway, how’s the ambassador?” Ahavah asked.  Mara smiled.
“She doesn’t need a bodyguard, but when she’s here, Ireland does.” She shook her head.  “She’s… intense.  Wants to see everything.  I can see how she and Lucifer would get along, she’s both incredibly haughty and just… vital.  She’s so committed to life.  So, of course we have to go running through every set of formal gardens, manor house, and museum from Waterford to Belfast.” Ahavah smiled. 
“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Ahavah said.
“Speaking of, how is Phoenix?  Wasn’t she taking summer classes?” Mara asked.  Ahavah shook her head.
“No, she and her family were traveling abroad, and now that I think about it-”
“You don’t mean.”
“Oh my, yes they were going to Ireland, now that I think about it.  Do you think you’ll run into each other?”
“With my luck?  She’ll probably challenge Lady Iris to a drinking contest.” Mara said, rolling her eyes.  “This might get interesting.” 
Ahavah smiled sympathetically.

    “Honestly, it’s the museums that are the worst.” Mara said, into her computer, looking pained.  “The background holiness just feels like a head cold with this.” She gestured to the sliver of horn hanging from a leather cord around her neck.  To the trained eye, it radiated a stark aura of demonic power, but to a normal human it would have appeared quiet and mundane.  Mara cupped it in her hand, protectively.

    Half a world away, Ahavah sighed.  “I’m just glad you’re safe.  Why the museums?” Mara rolled her eyes.

    “They’re more or less armoires against Demons, and Fey.  Still, that’s not really the problem.  It’s just- in Ireland, they’ve got this take on mythological time. I don’t understand it very well yet.  Do you know what they call the myth cycle that deals with their ancient understandings of history?”  Ahavah shook her head.  “They call it the Book of Invasions.” Mara said.  “But I think the invading forces were as much worlds as people.  The new reality would grow up, through the old, until you’ve got different realities, different histories, the same way Virgil, you know, Lucifer’s roommate, talks about it, all spiraled around and through each other.” Mara shook her head.  “This land has seen so many different versions of itself.” She sighed. 

    “It reminds me of how young I really am.” Mara continued.  “Back in the states, most humans would tell you five hundred is old.  Older than the US as a nation.  But for a demon, I’m still young.  Which doesn’t usually bug me.  I can still pull off an air of authority with most of the students, since they all identify closer to teenagers, and mostly look younger. Not here, though.  Here, if I tried to present myself as an ancient creature of the night, I’d get laughed at. In Ireland, five hundred years is recent history. Well,” she looked thoughtful. “Not exactly.  Time still goes fast.  The past is still, in some ways, a different world, but in others it’s extremely present.  Events have layers and contexts that stretch back thousands of years, yet the past remains alive and present in a way that human history usually doesn’t.” She shook her head. “They keep time like immortals here.”

    Ahavah nodded. “I know.” She smiled at Mara. “Time is never linear, least of all there.  Beings like us understand that the past has layers, but we forget that the shorter lifespan humans have doesn’t mean that they can’t dip into that same great sea.” She sighed.  “I wish I could be there with you, while you have intimations of mortality among the ruins, my love.  We’ll make a Romantic of you yet.”

    Mara rolled her eyes.  “Spare me.” She said. “I’m here representing Hell.  You’d just get in trouble if you went with me, angel.” Ahavah looked wry. 

    “Fine, but I’ll still need at least a week with you to myself for you to regale me with your stories when you get home.  I miss my wife!”  She said.  Mara smiled fondly.  “Anyway, how’s the ambassador?” Ahavah asked.  Mara smiled.

    “She doesn’t need a bodyguard, but when she’s here, Ireland does.” She shook her head.  “She’s… intense.  Wants to see everything.  I can see how she and Lucifer would get along, she’s both incredibly haughty and just… vital.  She’s so committed to life.  So, of course we have to go running through every set of formal gardens, manor house, and museum from Waterford to Belfast.” Ahavah smiled. 

    “Reminds me of someone else I know.” Ahavah said.

    “Speaking of, how is Phoenix?  Wasn’t she taking summer classes?” Mara asked.  Ahavah shook her head.

    “No, she and her family were traveling abroad, and now that I think about it-”

    “You don’t mean.”

    “Oh my, yes they were going to Ireland, now that I think about it.  Do you think you’ll run into each other?”

    “With my luck?  She’ll probably challenge Lady Iris to a drinking contest.” Mara said, rolling her eyes.  “This might get interesting.” 

    Ahavah smiled sympathetically.

  6. “The problem isn’t the wards.”  Lucifer said, pacing around Mara’s Living room.  “I can give you enough power to break them.”  He gesticulated wildly, clearly frustrated.  “The problem is that the whole country- the whole thing- is inherently sacred.”  Mara made a face.
                “So why exactly is the Unseelie Court sending their ambassador there?”  She said.  Lucifer shrugged theatrically. 
                “It’s a goodwill gesture.”  He said.  “A hundred years ago the humans closed the faery rings by force, leaving many fey to be trapped here and hunted down with iron.  Some survived, a lot didn’t.  Normally, when the humans do something like that, they bury it, but Ireland has such thin borders, that it would be politically stupid to not acknowledge the atrocities they committed.  They’ve been making amends, and not doing too badly, so each court is sending an ambassador to attend Midsummer festivities in Dublin, and to take a five-week tour afterward.  The Unseelie Court is sending Lady Iris.”  He paused, looking genuinely nervous.  Mara blinked.
                “Doesn’t she usually represent their interests in Hell?”  She said.  Lucifer sighed.
                “Yes, and I suppose that’s why they’ve chosen her.”  He said, pacing.  “She’s tough.  She’ll survive anything…unexpected.”  He stopped, and looked away.  Mara smiled.
                “And you love her.” She said.  He glared at her.  She shrugged. “I remember the feeling.” She said sympathetically.  He ran a hand through his hair. 
                “Yes.” He muttered.  Mara smiled.  “Which is why I’m sending you.”
                “Sir, with all due respect, my wife will kill me.” She said.  “I can barely costs the threshold of the campus chapel.”                 “You’ll have power.” He said.  “As much as you need.  Loca religiousa isn’t the problem.  Loca sacra is.”
“Which is exactly why Hell shouldn’t be supplying the ambassador with a bodyguard.” Mara said.  “Even from Pride.  We may be the best, but we’re not equipped to handle this kind of assignment-”
                “Neither are they.” Lucifer growled.  “And I am damn well not going to let Lady Iris run the risk of running into any trouble without the best protection I know how to find.”
                “Then why don’t you go?” Mara asked.  “We can sneak you past the feds, and have you teleported somewhere neutral to meet her by morning.” Lucifer shook his head.
                “I can’t leave. The feds are after me, remember? They’d run me to ground anywhere else.  And besides, if I left the country, I’d probably count as an international incident.” He looked frustrated.  “So, I’m sending you.  Because you understand the delicate nature of this matter.” He sighed.  Mara sighed and nodded. 

                “Alright.”  She nodded.  “What are my orders?”

    “The problem isn’t the wards.”  Lucifer said, pacing around Mara’s Living room.  “I can give you enough power to break them.”  He gesticulated wildly, clearly frustrated.  “The problem is that the whole country- the whole thing- is inherently sacred.”  Mara made a face.

                    “So why exactly is the Unseelie Court sending their ambassador there?”  She said.  Lucifer shrugged theatrically. 

                    “It’s a goodwill gesture.”  He said.  “A hundred years ago the humans closed the faery rings by force, leaving many fey to be trapped here and hunted down with iron.  Some survived, a lot didn’t.  Normally, when the humans do something like that, they bury it, but Ireland has such thin borders, that it would be politically stupid to not acknowledge the atrocities they committed.  They’ve been making amends, and not doing too badly, so each court is sending an ambassador to attend Midsummer festivities in Dublin, and to take a five-week tour afterward.  The Unseelie Court is sending Lady Iris.”  He paused, looking genuinely nervous.  Mara blinked.

                    “Doesn’t she usually represent their interests in Hell?”  She said.  Lucifer sighed.

                    “Yes, and I suppose that’s why they’ve chosen her.”  He said, pacing.  “She’s tough.  She’ll survive anything…unexpected.”  He stopped, and looked away.  Mara smiled.

                    “And you love her.” She said.  He glared at her.  She shrugged. “I remember the feeling.” She said sympathetically.  He ran a hand through his hair. 

                    “Yes.” He muttered.  Mara smiled.  “Which is why I’m sending you.”

                    “Sir, with all due respect, my wife will kill me.” She said.  “I can barely costs the threshold of the campus chapel.”
                    “You’ll have power.” He said.  “As much as you need.  Loca religiousa isn’t the problem.  Loca sacra is.”

    “Which is exactly why Hell shouldn’t be supplying the ambassador with a bodyguard.” Mara said.  “Even from Pride.  We may be the best, but we’re not equipped to handle this kind of assignment-”

                    “Neither are they.” Lucifer growled.  “And I am damn well not going to let Lady Iris run the risk of running into any trouble without the best protection I know how to find.”

                    “Then why don’t you go?” Mara asked.  “We can sneak you past the feds, and have you teleported somewhere neutral to meet her by morning.” Lucifer shook his head.

                    “I can’t leave. The feds are after me, remember? They’d run me to ground anywhere else.  And besides, if I left the country, I’d probably count as an international incident.” He looked frustrated.  “So, I’m sending you.  Because you understand the delicate nature of this matter.” He sighed.  Mara sighed and nodded. 

                    “Alright.”  She nodded.  “What are my orders?”

  7. I am writing this in a pub, watching some study abroad students from Brazil watch the world cup.  On the one hand, I have no idea what’s going on.  I don’t know much about football (just enough to know not to call it soccer).  I know nothing about alcohol (not enough not to try to order something with rum in it and to be informed by the bar tender that they don’t have it during the summer).  Still, it’s nice to see people happy.  Well, sometimes theatrically unhappy, but still… they’re passionate.  And that’s beautiful.

    I could have stayed in my room tonight.  Gotten ahead on my homework, written a little more of the Exiles.  But I need to know more about life, I think.  I’m a social, but proper intellectual, and I spend most of my time with other smart, straight-laced people.  We spend a lot of time thinking and judging people.  And sometimes that’s exactly what I need.  I usually can’t stand when people only talk about normal things and don’t seem to want anything that doesn’t fit the mold.  But I think there is more than one way to be different.  And, as a writer and an artist, I need to open myself to more than my usual experience. 

    So, while my friends are a home for which I thank G-d every night, I am also coming to except that to grow, I need to feel free to wander, too.

      

  8. I’ve been thinking about history.  Each place has a distinct story, stretching back further than any of us can remember.  Ireland has seen the rise and fall of history, and so has Georgia (though we talk about less of it).  And as a person, I’ve been here for practically none of it, but here I am, going from one place to another.  I know that there’s nothing inexplicable about travel, but it is still, in its own way, a kind of magic.  Place is immutable; Ireland has an identity completely separate from Georgia, but today, my experience will contain them both. 

    I am aware of both how normal and how exquisitely precious this is.  On the one hand, people fly all the time.  Yet my family has had to work so hard to make this trip happen for me.  The fact that I am here is itself an honor.  I can also appreciate how much easier it is to travel now then it was in the days when people could only go across the sea by boat. I am the recipient of so much privilege, and this itself scares me.  I hope I will be able to get the most out of this trip, and I worry that the desire to fully experience it will itself cloud my experience.  Still, there is one way around this: I will enjoy this trip, not for anyone else, but for itself, and for me.

    Today I am a link between two worlds: Ireland and. Georgia, and more broadly, the past and the future.  Even though, as an author, I am used to bridging the gap between universes, this journey is to places I don’t control and into situations I cannot anticipate.  I am ready.  Let the adventure begin!

  9. Hello,

    Here is a quick rundown of how I’ve decided this works.  It’ll likely change, but as things stand, this is how things are now.

    SQ: Personal is writing about me and my life.  Expect names to be omitted, and places to be fuzzy.  Most of what you’ll find here will be semi-philosophical rambling.  Be warned.

    Everything else is writing.  One-shots, poems, and snippets+rebolgs from my longer works.  Expect a few things from the Havenverse that don’t fit over on the other blog.

    Here is the current list of the usual subjects by tag-

    Projects

    The Exiles + Havenverse- my current project.  Novel.  Currently being written by me and my coauthor.  Magical-realism/urben fantasy/mythpunk.  Set in a college.

    The Land of Nod- Drafted.  A play.  Nursery rhymes, music, and the power of joy.

    We Share the Future- My obligatory attempt to fix high fantasy.  Currently on hold until I can find the plot.

    Archetypes Universe- My other obligatory attempt to fix high fantasy. Considering a merger with WStF.  On hold until I can find characters and a plot.

    Anise- An escaped disney princess tries to find her writer and avoid her fate.  Or something like that.

    Ash- Cinderella, but not.  You’ll see.

    Vampires (yes, really)- my attempt to fix vampires.  Considering a merger with the Havenverse.

    Personal

    Among the Hills so Green- my trip to Ireland

    Finding the How- college stuff

    My Friends Will Save the World- being happy about my friends, although truth be told, some days they would rather destroy it. 

    My Center- my family.

    Happy reading!  

    Love,

    Saberquill

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