It’s incredible to me that after six years of writing, I’ve finally finished the Children of Annwn series. What started out as a cathartic outpouring of my own journey wrapped up in a tender romantic fantasy evolved into something so much more, but one that continued to mirror my own challenges in life and writing. I know as a writer that I’m not alone is using life experiences as a basis for the characters we create, but I didn't realize or plan it that way.
The series is a voyage of self-discovery for Mia Leronde who transforms from this insecure high-school student into a determined and powerful caster that is driven by her love of her family, friends, and Ryder. The series is about the power of love, the meaning of family, overcoming the challenges in life, and learning to accept who we are despite our insecurities and fears.
In six years, a lot has changed as I have gone from being signed with a small publishing company to being self-published like over-night. It wasn't a complete shock but a HUGE learning curve. I'm taking each experience in my stride, not losing sight of what I want which is to write. I will weigh up all the pro's and con's to help me decide where my future lies.
However, the writing is my focus all the rest is icing on the cake and I still approach publishers and agents with caution as I like not feeling as if I'm having a heart attack as I approach the finish rushing to get to the deadline even though I impose my own. I like having control over the price and as for promoting well I have to do it anyway!
After six years, I still LOVE writing and ideas are always bouncing around for further stories, even if bit by bit I'm becoming more of a recluse. Does anyone else feel like this?
After six years, I still LOVE writing and ideas are always bouncing around for further stories, even if bit by bit I'm becoming more of a recluse. Does anyone else feel like this?
I am my biggest cheerleader even when the tides of negativity threaten to drown me.I believe I can write stories that are entertaining and that readers will enjoy and therefore, I keep marching along to my own band!
I get highly anxious when I’m not writing almost as if I will forget how to write. Like guilt driven panic attacks, anyone else??
The promoting and marketing side is another issue, and I have to embrace this and push harder to get the stories out. I think this will definitely be a goal for 2016 because I NEED help!!!!
Anyway for now, I’m delighted to wallow in the glory of the fact that I have finished the trilogy as often I felt an incredible impatience to get it down on paper before I lost my focus.
Writing is not easy, don't let anyone tell you that. It's very personal. The reader gets to see how your brain ticks, and what is in our heart and soul. It makes us very vulnerable. However, just like cooking a fantastic dinner, there is nothing better than sharing that meal with friends and having a good laugh. I want to share my stories with you, and make you laugh and cry. I hope I manage that.
Snippet from the Power of the Gilgamesh release date Friday 16th October 2015.
Snippet from the Power of the Gilgamesh release date Friday 16th October 2015.
“There was a soft voice singing ever so quietly, more like a whisper, I guess, but I could hear every word. It was as if the girl or woman—I don’t know how old she is—was guiding me somewhere. This place is special, don’t you feel it?” Mia studied each one in turn before resting her stare on Malachi.
“Why do we always end up in damp bloody forests freezing our nuts off,” Tristan said. Ryder and Malachi laughed.
“This isn’t funny. None of this is funny. Brianna has disappeared, and you let her go, Tristan. I guess, I’m to blame as well because after Tyler left I have been pre-occupied with everything, which left Brianna grieving alone.”
“That’s not true. She wasn’t alone. I just couldn’t reach her,” Tristan spoke into the light breeze that was rustling through the trees and leaves.
“Back to the voice, because it doesn’t matter how or why we’re here, but here we are. What was the song about?” Malachi raised his eyebrow, staring at Mia with his hands joined together as if praying with his thumbs resting on his chin. Mia breathed out, trying to focus and recall the words of the song. She closed her eyes.
“If ever there were fairies surely this is where their tiny feet would tread in a woodland full of bluebells where the air smells so sweet…”
“Stop, does this have a point because I hate to say it, but I agree with Tristan, my feet are cold and damp,” said Lucas.
“Shut up Lucas, Mia’s right, this place is special and the magic around us is very powerful, powerful enough to call out to her, so we must be on our guard. Now go on, but if you can skip anything that isn’t relevant that would be good,” Malachi smirked at Mia and placed his hands around his back. As Mia sucked a deep breath in, she stared at Lucas, Ryder, Tristan, Dr. Mathews and Malachi, who started pacing back and forth. Skip anything that may be irrelevant. How was she supposed to know? Again, she closed her eyes and focused on the song and the words, letting the sweet melody roll over her brain until she could see it clearly written like a poem in her mind, and she read the words picking and choosing what she thought was important.
“If there was a doorway to another world, this is where it would be hidden, among the wild bluebells and sacred leafy trees. I think the portal is here somewhere, but the last line or two is a warning,” she said, staring over at Ryder. “Time passes and yet forever the bluebells return, spreading like wildfire swaying with the breeze, carrying their delicate perfume, captivating all but beware those who dare to enter Fairyland. For once there, you may never want to leave...” she said slowly with a haunting voice that left everyone silent for a moment. Malachi scratched his head, staring at Lucas, and then he rubbed his mouth with his hand.
“Okay, so there is a portal near. I think we should keep walking. How far do these woods go on for?” Malachi asked, staring at Dr. Mathews. Until now, Dr. Mathews had been silent, simply plodding along with the group, but he pushed himself in front with his hands in the pockets of his dark-blue jeans and stared at Ryder whilst he fumbled with his MET device.