A Sinner’s Origins

In order to write Theobalt’s redemption in “Illumine Hades,” I had to know a lot more about the mortal man than ever made it onto the story page.

I’ll admit that I’m a Theobalt fan. I like his brashness, his good cheer, and his feckless good intentions. I sympathize with his vulnerabilities. I figure the readers of “Illumine Hades” likely include other Theobalt fans like myself. This post is for you!

I’m going to share my brainstorming process (which I did in my journal), because it presents Theobalt’s history as I learned it. It will have the side effect of drawing back the curtain to reveal some of my writerly methods, so if you prefer not to see the sausage being made… Read no farther! 😀

Here we go!

I need to know more about Theobalt. The heart of his issue is that he felt all through his life that he could never measure up. His response to the sense of inadequacy was that he just wouldn’t try. Why try when failure is inevitable?

I think his mother expected too much of him? Why? Was she a widow? No. Theobalt’s father arranged Theobalt’s marriage. I think Theobalt’s father was a lot like Theobalt himself. He was professionally successful, but relationally unsuccessful. Theobalt’s mother didn’t get what she wanted from Theobalt’s father. When she saw many of the same characteristics in her son, she raged at him.

Theobalt’s father was involved with olive oil. Not wine, because Theobalt is ignorant regarding wine and its qualities. Question: was the family a producer of olive oil or did they ship it? If they were in shipping, they would likely not specialize. So…they both grow olives and buy olives from other, smaller farms. They press the olives and sell the oil to folk in the city and to merchants in more distant cities. Ah! The reason Theobalt’s father was away from home so much was because he would meet with these faraway merchants to make deals. While abroad he would seek new prospects to expand his business.

The more unpleasant Theobalt’s mother became, the more Theobalt’s father would find reason to attend to business. The more neglected Theobalt’s mother felt, the more unpleasant she would grow. Vicious cycle.

That’s the family situation. What about Theobalt himself?

He was a happy-go-lucky lad who loved to run and play with his friends. He hated lessons, hated sitting still, wanted to be on-the-go all the time. If his mother had thought to co-opt him as an errand boy, things would have gone very much better. Instead she insisted on lessons, in-home chores, and keeping her company. It was a disaster.

When Theobalt grew old enough to accompany his father, he did, and his mother was outraged that both her menfolk were gone.

When Theobalt married, he took over managing the olive farm and the dealings with farmers supplying additional olives. His mother grew even angrier, since her husband was away all the time. She blamed Theobalt for enabling this state of affairs.

Theobalt himself didn’t find sea voyages necessary for maintaining sufficient distance from his own wife. He spent days in his office and evenings visiting friends. However, the marriage did not start out on such a bad footing.

I need to understand what Theobalt’s wife brought to the mix. She had been her father’s pet. She expected that kind of attention from Theobalt. She didn’t initially whine and demand such attention. That came later. At first she tried giving more to Theobalt. She cooked delicacies that were his favorites. She dressed up for him. She greeted him at the door when he returned home. She visited him at the office. And Theobalt was appalled. He was accustomed to emotional distance in the home. He started sneaking in and out so that his wife could neither greet him nor bid him farewell. He instructed his secretary to tell her he was out when she arrived at the office. He began to cage invitations from friends to spend evenings at their homes.

What did his wife try next? She asked him what was wrong, and he answered that nothing was wrong.

She tried harder. When that did not work, she tried leaving him alone. But leaving him alone meant they just led parallel lives. Then she started to fuss. And that is when Theobalt started to retaliate.

Okay!

Now I need to lay out the therapeutic process for Theobalt. What would get through to him? He is pretty resistant. Which actually makes him ideal for Dìs, since Theobalt absolutely does not want to recognize the truth about himself, and Dìs needs to learn that confronting the truth is what salvation is all about.

So what is Theobalt’s attitude? That women are just too demanding, it is impossible to please them, and one shouldn’t bother to try.

Dìs will ask: What did your wife want that was so impossible?

Theobalt will start on a long list of trivialities.

Dìs: No, those were what she demanded when you refused her what she really wanted.

Theobalt: What did she really want?

Dìs: Your loving presence and attention.

Theobalt: But I was afraid.

Dìs: Why were you afraid?

Theobalt: My mother had always insisted on more from me and found me supremely lacking.

Dìs: What did your mother want?

Theobalt: Me to sit still, keep her company, and do well at my lessons.

Dìs: That was not what your mother wanted.

Theobalt: What did she want then?

Dìs: Your father’s loving presence and attention.

Theobalt: !! Surely not!

Dìs: Yes.

Theobalt: So when she did not get that, and saw how like I was to him, she hated me.

Dìs: Yes.

Theobalt: But I think she was right to hate me.

That is the process—in outline—of how Theobalt might come to understand how he came to be who he is. But how would he regain—or gain—confidence that he is enough as himself? Because he is afraid of sitting still within being. Be here now. What do you hear? What do you touch. What do you smell? What do you taste? What do you see?

Theobalt will strongly resist that. But the only way to be able to give that kind of attention to someone else is to be able to give it to one’s own experience. And Dìs is in a position to hold Theobalt still enough that Theobalt can discover the ability to be present.

Now I need to think about Dìs’ own experience of all this. How does he start out? Where does he go wrong?

In The Goblin Emperor, Maia’s confusion, headache, and impatience with aggrandizing disputants are presented first. Then his realization that since he cannot please everyone, he need please no one. Next we learn that with the need to please removed, Maia sees clearly. We are shown what he sees and we hear his spoken discussion. Then we witness his assertion of his confident authority, and the scene ends.

That is a really important scene in the story, because Maia is an abused adolescent who is afraid of conflict. He has used placation as a means of survival. We need to see his thought process in his moment of growth.

I suspect my scene with Dìs and Theobalt is equally important in my story. The difference is that we’ve already been shown that Dìs is starting to change his autocratic thought process. Ah! And this is not the scene that is the crux of the matter. And it is not a scene in which he is learning a new skill, even though superficially it might seem that way.

The important thing in this scene is that Dìs discovers that his method of penetrating to the truth for the purpose of judgment can be wielded for a different purpose as well. We need not see him making the mistake of being overly sympathetic. In fact, that should be part of his own realization: Oh! he’d always thought Persephone must lean on sympathy and forgiveness, but—no—she leans on truth.

The mistake Dìs would make is that of moving from to truth to judgment, when he should be moving from his own realization of the truth to Theobalt’s realization of the truth.

Yes, that’s perfect.

I need to figure out where Dìs would start. He’s already been thinking about Theobalt and what he knows of him. He doesn’t need to refresh his memory, because one of the attributes of the gods is that when they want to remember something, they simply do so, accurately. Dìs, when he decides to seek Theobalt, can simply begin where they left off, if he wishes, although he will chose a different beginning.

Where would I start with Theobalt, if I were working with him? I suspect I would have a hard time with him, because I would be too soft. Dìs won’t have that problem. He needs to get him talking, maybe complaining.

What are the complaints Dìs (and we) have heard so far? Away all the time. Bringing unruly friends home. Eyeing the physical charms of other women. Being harsh with their son. Betting on horse races and losing. Dirty habits, uncouth language.

Dìs doesn’t want to hear all this again, and neither do we. What we want is a question that will surprise Theobalt into answering with his deepest fear: she wants me prim and proper and sitting still like a statue on a pedestal.

Dìs: That is not what she really wanted.

Theobalt: It’s what all women want! Even me mana mou wanted that!

Dìs: From you?

Theobalt: Yah, from me! Who else?

Dìs: Indeed. Who else?

Theobalt: Oh. (small voice) Me páppa.

Dìs: And was that her heart’s desire?

Theobalt: She said it was.

Okay, I’m ready to write the scene!

Dìs sipped his wine, reflecting that Theobalt knew nothing of wine, if he called this one merely good. It was superb.

But the wine was merely a means. Dìs must not allow its excellence to distract him. He must win the shade’s confidence—admittedly not hard—and then lead him along a path at which he would naturally balk…

* * *

And there you have it, my brainstorming from start to finish. I often find that writing out my own questions and the answers they inspire clarifies my thinking such that I am ready to begin writing immediately at the close of a brainstorming session.

For more about the lore and process behind The Hades Cycle, see:
Heroines in Hell
Hades’ Many Names
A Hero in Hell
The Reputation of Dís

 

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Cover Reveal: Queen’s Cusp

Queen’s Cusp will release February 7, 2023!

Initially it will be available on Amazon for purchase and in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited subscription service for free download.

Queen’s Cusp is the sixth of seven tales in The Hades Cycle.

Some months after the seventh tale is released, Queen’s Cusp will leave the KU subscription service and be available for purchase on all major e-tailers, including Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Amazon, and more.

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Heroines in Hell

The Hades Cycle has gone though some real growing pains in its creation. In the blog post “A Hero in Hell,” I told you how the series might never have existed at all without inspiration from writer-editor extraordinaire Alex Butcher. And I recounted the near miss averted by my first reader when she determined that an early draft of “Tale 3” was in fact a chimera of Tale 3 and Tale 4 unfortunately smashed together.

But even with those hazards safely navigated The Hades Cycle encountered two more challenges.

The first of these was its timely completion. You see, after I wrote Tales 3 and 4, I had the vague idea that it might be nice to tell Persephone’s story at some point. And then exploring events from Dís’ vantage would surely be worthwhile. But these were some day and eventually ideas. It could easily have taken me a another year or two before I got around to these stories.

But when my second reader finished reviewing my revised Tale 4, her concluding remarks to her feedback were that she absolutely was longing to get Persephone’s point of view. Her enthusiasm ensured that I tackled Persephone’s story immediately.

And, in fact, I discovered that Persephone’s situation was sufficiently complex that it required two tales to do it justice.

Once Persephone’s tales were complete, Dís himself had acquired such gravity that I could no more have delayed telling his story than I could have delayed breathing. And with Dís’ story complete, The Hades Cycle was complete. But it was not past all hazard.

The next danger was posed by the proper ordering of Tales 3 and 4.

Because the chronologies of Tales 3, 4, and 5 overlap.

They each follow a different heroine. A nameless shade (it would be a serious spoiler to tell you more about her) spearheads the action in Tale 3. Tale 4 showcases Eurydice. And Persephone carries Tale 5.

But Tale 5 starts first. Partway through Tale 5, the beginnings of Tale 3 and then Tale 4 occur. All three tales run concurrently for an interval. Tale 4 ends first. Tale 3 ends at about the midpoint of Tale 5. And finally Tale 5 ends.

Confusing, no?

Check out the graphic below. I think it makes things clearer.

Now you might think that Tale 5 should have mixed itself into my series-order confusion, but it didn’t. I was always crystal clear that Tale 5 should be Tale 5.

It was Tales 3 and 4 that muddled me. Because Tale 4 (Truth) ended before Tale 3 (Hell), I thought it should come first. So much did I think this that I actually published Eurydice in Truth as Tale 3. Yikes!

It was only when I wrote the synopsis for Take from Hell, getting ready to publish it, that revelation swept though me. It was the beginnings of Hell and Truth that needed to control their series order, not their endings.

All of this was happening in the middle of November 2022.

There I was with Tale 1, Tale 2, and what should be Tale 4 up for buying and reading! But no Tale 3.

You’d best believe that I completed the publishing work on Take from Hell in record time. I’d intended to release it in January. Instead I released it the instant it was ready, on Thanksgiving!

Then I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

I believe at least one reader purchased a paperback copy of Eurydice in Truth with “Tale 3” appearing in print on the front cover and the title page. They have my profuse apologies. My only consolation is that at least they have a true collectible in their possession. It is the only copy in print like that!

But I profoundly hope that The Hades Cycle has come to the end of its bumps in the road!

May all be smooth sailing from now through the publishing of Tales 5, 6 and 7. And may my readers enjoy all seven of the stories!

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For more about The Hades Cycle, see:
Hades’ Many Names
A Hero in Hell
The Reputation of Dís

 

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Cover Reveal: Persephone Errant

Persephone Errant will release January 7, 2023!

Initially it will be available on Amazon for purchase and in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited subscription service for free download.

Persephone Errant is the fifth of seven tales in The Hades Cycle.

Some months after the seventh tale is released, Persephone Errant will leave the KU subscription service and be available for purchase on all major e-tailers, including Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Amazon, and more.

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Hades’ Many Names

As I wrote the stories in my Hades Cycle, I found myself researching quite a few of the details. I knew the basics, having read and re-read the myths of the ancient Greeks from childhood on.

(I remember being particularly intrigued in my young adulthood by some modern explorations of the mythology: Goddesses in Everywoman by Jean Shinoda Bolen, Amor and Psyche by Erich Neumann, and Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis.)

But I have a poor memory for details (and some details were unknown to me), so I went digging.

Most of the Greek gods had multiple names, and some even a multitude. Many of them derived from the unique cultural references found in different geopolitical regions, such as Aricina, a name for Artemis from the town of Aricia in Latium.

But Hades, the god of the underworld, seemed to possess more names than any of his cohorts. Since Hades is the hub around which the entirety of my Hades Cycle revolves, his names pulled in a considerable portion of my attention. It was interesting stuff, so I’m going to share some of it with you.

Two sources seem to provide the majority of Hades’ names:
1The change of language and culture through time, and
2The creation of oblique epithets by people reluctant to pronounce Hades’ proper name.

I’ll explore both.

Hades through Time

The earliest form of the name was the proto-Greek Awides or Aides, dating from the late Neolithic period, 7000 BCE to 4500 BCE. Some later poetic variations may derive from that early form: Aidoneus, Áïdos, Áïda, and Áïs. The later Etruscan variant bears a superficial resemblance as well: Aita.

By classical times (510—323 BCE), the god’s name had settled to Háides, and thus it remained in Greece. This is the basis of our own anglicized Hades.

But while the Greeks recognized Háides as the god’s proper name, they spoke of him as Plouton or Ploutos (“wealthy”), and it was Plouton who was adopted by the ancient Romans as the god who both ruled the underworld and who distributed the riches from below ground. Variants on Plouton included Ploutodótes and Ploutodóter, “giver of wealth.”

Interestingly, Hades as Ploutos was given a priestess in Greece. He’d not received religious observance before, being deliberately ignored because of his connection with death.

But, moving on through time . . . we come to Orcus and Dís Pater.

Orcus was an Etruscan god, ruler of the underworld (like Hades) and punisher of broken oaths, who propagated into ancient Roman beliefs.

Dís Pater (“father of wealth”) was a Roman god presiding over fertile agricultural land and mineral wealth from below the soil. He was also called Rex Infernus (“king below”).

Just as happened in Greek culture, the Romans eventually conflated the two—Orcus and Dís Pater—but then blended them into the Greek Plouton to yield Pluto.

In both Greek and Roman culture, the underworld took its name from its ruler rather than the other way round, giving us Hades in Greece and Dís in Rome.

Just to gather them all in one place, here’s a list of all these historical names:

Awides
Aides
Aidoneus
Áïdos
Áïda
Áïs
Aita
Háides
Plouton
Ploutos
Ploutodótes
Ploutodóter
Orcus
Dís Pater
Rex Infernus
Pluto

Epithets for Hades

The ancient Greeks, disliking death, avoided speaking Hades’ name. Even though he was not Death personified—that was Thanatos—his role as ruler of the dead in the underworld was too close for comfort. Therefore they devised innumerable alternates.

I’m not going to opine on all I discovered. Instead, I’ll give you a list (which is likely only partial, since the ancients were inventive, and not every variant was recorded):

Adesius, from Latium, meaning “grace”
Agelastus, from his melancholy countenance
Agesilaus, expressive of his attracting all people to his empire
Agetes or Hegetes (“one who conducts”)
Agesander
Agesilaos
Hegesilaus (“the god who carries away all”)
Aidoneos, from confounding Hades with King Aidoneos of the Molossi—Theseus and Pirithous attempted to abduct the king’s daughter, named Persephone
Axiocersus, the shorn god, from the mysteries of the Cabiri
Clymenos (“notorious”)
Polydegmon (“who receives many”)
Eubuleus (“good counsel” or “well intentioned”)
Hesperos Theos (“god of death and darkness”)
Iao, Hades’ name in Clares, a town of Ionia
Moiragetes, guide of the Fates
Ophieus, the blind god of the Messenians; derived from the Messenian practice of dedicating certain blinded augurs to him
Zeus Eubouleus
Zeus Katathonios (“Zeus of the underworld”)
Zeus Meilichios (“easy to be entreated,” a euphemism for Maimaktes, “the raging one, thirsty for blood”)

In Latin or Etruscan:
Altor, from alo (“to nourish”)
Februus, from februa, signifying the sacrifices and purifications of funeral rites
Feralis Deus, the cruel god
Lactum, from Sarmatia
Larthy Tytiral, from Etruria (“sovereign of Tartarus”)
Mantus or Manus, diminutive of Summanus, Etruscan
Niger Deus, black god
Opertus (“the concealed”)
Profundus Jupiter (“deep Jove”)
Quietalis, from quies (“rest”)
Rusor
Salutaris Divus, when Pluto restored the dead to life with drops of nectar from his urn
Saturnius, from his father Saturn
Soranus, his name among the Sabines
Stygius, from the river Styx
Summanus, from summus manium (“prince of the dead”)
Tellumo, derived from the treasures which Pluto possesses in the recesses of the earth
Uragus
Urgus, from urgeo (“to impel”)

In Egypt:
Amenthes, from the doctrines of the metempsychosis, signifying the “place which gives and receives,” from the belief that some vast gulf served as a reservoir of souls who arrived there upon death and in time departed to animate the newly born

That is one long list, isn’t it!

In my Hades Cycle, I chose always to refer to the underworld as Hades and to the god as Dís. Although, when I reached a story featuring mortals, I felt that Dís was too culturally wrong and branched out to Dís Plouton. 😉

If you’d like more about the lore and background of The Hades Cycle, see:
The Reputation of Dís
A Hero in Hell

 

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A Hero in Hell

My friend Alex Butcher was virtually singlehandedly responsible for so many of my stories and novels being present in book bundles. Indeed, we became friends through the process of working on all those bundles together over the course of 4 years. But, make no mistake, she was the driving force behind the bundles, not me! I’m still impressed with her willingness to do all that work to publish writers other than herself.

But Alex also played an important role in the creation of my Hades Cycle. Without Alex, I suspect I would have stopped after the first two stories of what became the series, without in fact ever creating the series at all.

The defining moment for The Hades Cycle was its fourth tale, “Eurydice in Truth.” And that defining moment occurred solely because of Alex.

Devoted as she has been to the satisfaction found in creating bundles, she’s never limited herself to bundles. Before bundles were a thing (and now after their day has passed), Alex created/creates and participates in anthologies. Naturally, she’s invited me to join in the fun at times.

The anthology pertinent to The Hades Cycle was titled Heroes in Hell. At the time Alex spoke with me, Heroes in Hell was a done deal, already complete and en route to publication. But the publisher was planning another anthology with a fresh theme, and Alex thought I might wish to write a story to contribute.

My muse being a wayward creature, she immediately delivered up inspiration for a story fitting the outgoing anthology rather than the upcoming one, and I fell headlong into “Eurydice in Truth.”

When Alex described Heroes in Hell, she’d given examples of historical heroes who might have landed in hell after their deaths, such as Alexander the Great or Cleopatra. But mythical figures tend to catch my writerly imagination more than historical ones, and—thus far—pagan myths generate story ideas for me, while Christian theology has not.

So, at Alex’s words, my mind turned to the ancient Greeks, and then to Orpheus. He was definitively a Greek hero in the mythological Greek hell. Following this trail of musing, I found myself in Eurydice’s sandals, feeling her disturbed confusion and her terror. I had to tell her story!

But “Eurydice in Truth” had one more twist in store for me as I wrote it, and I didn’t realize this until after my first reader gave me her feedback. Without intending to, I’d written the first half of “Eurydice in Truth,” but grafted it onto the second half of what would become “Take from Hell.”

That didn’t work at all!

Discussing the draft with my first reader, I was able to sort out the problem. I separated the mismatched halves, wrote the second half that belonged to “Eurydice in Truth,” and then wrote the proper first half that belonged to “Take from Hell.”

There were two further developments in the series that I’ll tell you in another post, but with “Eurydice in Truth” and “Take from Hell” on record, The Hades Cycle was firmly established as an entity and I went on to complete it. As I draft this history of the series, the rest of the stories have been in existence for many months, and I’ve been racing to catch up on the publishing front. It’s an unusual feeling for me, since I’ve never had a backlog of finished, but unpublished work before.

Here’s looking at 2023! 😀

For more about The Hades Cycle, see:
The Reputation of Dìs

 

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The Reputation of Dìs

When I embarked upon writing the tales that would comprise my Hades Cycle, I did quite a bit of re-reading of Greek mythology. Since I’ve always been fascinated by the stories of the ancient world, this was a pleasure and a treat.

Naturally, with the underworld serving as the lynchpin of the series, I needed to review the deeds of its ruler Dìs (also known by many other names and epithets). I’d not realized in my first reading encounters with him that his abduction of Persephone was not a one-off. The fellow had practice!

Theophile, a mortal girl who boasted that she was more beautiful than Persephone when the maiden goddess remained yet under Demeter’s aegis, caught Dìs’ attention with her claims. There must have been some substance to the girl’s words, because Dìs was captivated.

He stole Theophile away to Hades, where she lived out her mortal span of years as Dìs’ companion and lover. When she died, Dìs turned her into a white poplar tree growing in the Elysian Fields, a paradise where virtuous mortals dwell after death.

The white poplar has special significance, because of the stature it holds as the victory wreath donned by the hero Heracles in celebration of his return from the underworld after completing his twelfth labor there. The distinctive leaf of the white poplar—dark on its upper surface and pale on the underside—symbolizes the duality of the full tally of Heracles’ labors, most in the daylit world under the sun, but the final one in the dark of the underworld. A hero must prevail not only in waking deeds, but also in the murkiest depths of his own psyche.

The white poplar possesses an alternate symbolism (acquired from Dìs’ hands before the advent of either Heracles or Theophile), but I’ll discuss that anon. For now, let’s return to Dìs’ love life. 😉

Minthe, a later mistress of Dìs, was a river nymph. No mention is made of how she came to dwell in Hades at the god’s side, but she came to no good end. Dìs was said to have put her aside when he married Persephone, and the nymph refused to go quietly. Like Theophile, she boasted that she was more beautiful than Persephone, and she claimed that Dìs would soon take her back and place her on Persephone’s throne as his queen.

Demeter, jealous of her daughter’s rights, turned Minthe into garden mint! (In another version of the myth, Persephone becomes enraged and tramples the nymph, turning her into mint in the process or else simply killing her, with the result that Dìs turns Minthe into mint to preserve her.)

Leuce, perhaps the first mistress taken by Dìs, was an ocean nymph and reputed to be the most beautiful of all the nature spirits gracing the ancient world. Like Theophile and later Persephone, she too was abducted by the god. Despite that inauspicious beginning, Dìs loved her with a love that would not be rivaled until he married Persephone. When Leuce eventually died, Dìs was inconsolable.

After an interval during which he could only mourn and weep, he decided to create a memorial of his love for Leuce and of her love for him. In the Elysian Fields, he brought into being the first and archetypal white poplar tree. As a memorial, it stood for memory, memory of a love that would never fade, never grow old, a love so strong that it could be regenerative.

The white poplar was sacred to Persephone, and the name Leuce became one of Persephone’s epithets, almost implying that the nymph was resurrected in the goddess. In the first tale of The Hades Cycle, “Eurydice Otherwise,” my heroine makes essential use of the white poplar in her efforts to save herself. And I, as the author, make use of Dìs’ reputation to posit that the three abductions on his record might not have been the only abductions he attempted.

For more about the gods and goddesses of the ancient world, see:
Lugh and the Lunasad
The Norns of Fate’s Door
Mother Holle

 

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Cover Reveal: Take from Hell

Take from Hell will release in just a day or two!

Initially it will be available on Amazon for purchase and in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited subscription service for free download.

Take from Hell is the third of seven tales in The Hades Cycle.

Some months after the seventh tale is released, Take from Hell will leave the KU subscription service and be available for purchase on all major e-tailers, including Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Amazon, and more.

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Away to Fairyland

My short story “Faerie Tithe” was inspired by L.M. Montgomery’s novel The Story Girl.

The Story Girl is an idyll of childhood, featuring children who are loved, protected, and supported, but who still encounter the typical challenges of growing up.

I suspect Lucy Maud Montgomery may have been reflecting on her own childhood while she wrote The Story Girl and realizing that in spite of the tragedy and darkness present in her young years (she was raised by her aunt and uncle, because both her parents died), there were many wonderful and special moments, too.

So, how did a golden idyll of childhood inspire a story visiting the darker side of Faerie?

In two ways.

Firstly, all Montgomery’s books include lyrical descriptions of the Canadian countryside that evoke a sense of wonder and awe. The forests, lakes, and meadows of Montgomery’s Canada might be fairyland.

And secondly, the character from whom the novel gets its name is a storyteller. Many of her stories recount the humorous doings of local people in the community or stirring events from history. But a few visit Faerie.

In chapter sixteen, “The Ghostly Bell,” is the merest sketch of the tale that inspired “Faerie Tithe.”

Accordingly, after tea we all set off, armed with jugs and cups. Felicity, thoughtful creature, also took a small basketful of jelly cookies along with her. We had to go back through the maple woods to the extreme end of Uncle Roger’s farm—a pretty walk, through a world of green, whispering boughs and spice-sweet ferns, and shifting patches of sunlight. The raspberries were plentiful, and we were not long in filling our receptacles. Then we foregathered around a tiny wood spring, cold and pellucid under its young maples, and ate the jelly cookies; and the Story Girl told us a tale of a haunted spring in a mountain glen where a fair white lady dwelt, who pledged all comers in a golden cup with jewels bright.

“And if you drank of the cup with her,” said the Story Girl, her eyes glowing through the emerald dusk about us, “you were never seen in the world again; you were whisked straightway to fairyland, and lived there with a fairy bride. And you never WANTED to come back to earth, because when you drank of the magic cup you forgot all your past life, except for one day in every year when you were allowed to remember it.”

“I wish there was such a place as fairyland—and a way to get to it,” said Cecily.

“I think there IS such a place—in spite of Uncle Edward,” said the Story Girl dreamily, “and I think there is a way of getting there too, if we could only find it.”

Well, the Story Girl was right. There is such a place as fairyland—but only children can find the way to it. And they do not know that it is fairyland until they have grown so old that they forget the way. One bitter day, when they seek it and cannot find it, they realize what they have lost; and that is the tragedy of life. On that day the gates of Eden are shut behind them and the age of gold is over. Henceforth they must dwell in the common light of common day. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again; and blessed are they above mortals. They, and only they, can bring us tidings from that dear country where we once sojourned and from which we must evermore be exiles. The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland.

It’s that last paragraph that makes me think Montgomery was appreciating her own childhood afresh.

But it’s the first and second paragraphs that formed my own inspiration. I wanted the full story on the fair lady with the golden cup and the mortal man she ensnared, which meant that I needed to write it myself.

Thus “Faerie Tithe” was born.

* * *

For a related post—on how a mortal healer enchants a faie knight—see:
A Song of Peace

 

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