UPDATED: "Beast Charming" now in audiobook format!

I’m a big believer in books being available in every possible format, whether that be print, e-book, or even audio (I’d add skywriting, but I’ve found that makes a book awkward to read). Given the number of requests I've received over the last year, I'm guessing I'm not alone in that belief.

On that note, I’m happy to announce that “Beast Charming” is finally available as an audiobook! I hand-picked the narrator, Morgan Ganahl, because listening to her is the closest you can get to having me read it to you without forcing you to listen to the number of times I say “um” or “like” when speaking out loud.”

It’s available through Audible.com, iTunes and Amazon.

Happy listening!

More important than being “tough”

As far as I can tell, it’s not easy being a guy.

Yeah, I know they have it better in a lot of ways, but they’re really not very good at taking care of themselves. Society tells men that they’re supposed to be tough to the point of being invulnerable, and any hit of weakness or needing help should be avoided at all costs. They’re told never to acknowledge that they’re slower than they used to be, or they have a worrying cough, and heaven help the man who dares to wonder if they might be depressed.

Men, I’m here to tell you that society is straight-up lying to you.

Trust me – society lies to women all the time, so we know what we’re talking about. Living your life in order to satisfy the expectations of the media, complete strangers, or even casual acquaintances, leads to nothing but frustration, disappointment, and potentially a heart attack. None of these people have enough investment in you personally to be worth listening to, and won’t even notice if you are listening to them.

Besides, have any of them given you proof that they know what they’re talking about? The media, for example, thinks that the Kardashians are worth obsessing over, which isn’t the best sign of either their intelligence or their good judgment.

On the other side of the equation, there’s this little thing called science. Science’s opinion on the matter is that men are human beings just like women are, subject to every infirmity, illness and medical condition. Having something wrong with you doesn’t mean you’ve failed; it means that biology is holding all the trump cards. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from getting sick.

What you can do, however, is focus on getting better again. If your car breaks, do you drive around on it until it collapses or lights on fire somehow? No, you figure out what’s wrong and fix it (or you take it to someone who does). Your body is a lot more valuable than your car, and there are a whole bunch of experts who can help you get it running smoothly again.

Mental health issues are a trickier situation, but in some ways that just makes them more important. Having depression is just the same as having any other illness, including cancer, and if left untreated it can mess up your life just as much. Being depressed doesn’t mean you’re weak – it means the chemicals in your head went out of whack. Talking to a professional, and maybe getting medication if you need it, can absolutely change your life for the better.

I know it can be tough to admit you need help, no matter what the problem is. But the people who love you don’t need you to be Superman, no matter how much you wish you could be that for them. What they need is for you to be there, for birthdays and weddings and graduations and everything else that will happen for the rest of their lives. They need you to be healthy a lot more than they need you to be “tough.”

So go to the doctor for regular checkups. Get some help if you need it. Because it might be scary to admit you can’t do it all on your own, but doing something scary for the people you love is pretty much the definition of being a superhero.

Ask them. They’ll back me up on this. 

Book Corner: "Once Upon Two Kingdoms"

“Once Upon Two Kingdoms” by Ana del C. Dye

Synopsis: 
An arrangement made when Elizabeth was just a babe ties her to someone she has never met, never spoken to, never loved. Now she desires freedom—a way to choose her own path—her own husband. The moment Elizabeth meets Patrick she knows he is her soul mate. But when you are bound to a crown how is any choice your own?

As a longtime fan of Hallmark Channel original programming, there’s a part of me that’s an absolute sucker for all of the classical romantic tropes. The accidental meeting, an arranged marriage that leads to a love match, a healthy amount of swooning and pining … it’s like the best kind of literary comfort food.

Reading “Once Upon Two Kingdoms,” the latest book by award-winning author Ana del C. Dye, is like enjoying a heaping plate of some of my oldest favorites. If you like your good guys great, your bad guys satisfyingly evil, and a happily-ever-after as sweet as honey, this is the book for you.

Elizabeth, the story’s heroine, falls more into the traditional “princess” gender role but still shows off plenty of spunk. Patrick is courtly in all the ways we want princes to be, and the duo’s romance hits all the right notes. I particularly like when the two first lay eyes on each other – I’m a sucker for meet-cutes that involve weaponry, however briefly – and a nicely dramatic moment near the end. (I’d tell you more, but the last thing I want to do is spoil the book for you.)

Though the setting is general medieval – princesses, etc. – Dye never lets herself get bogged down in period details. She has a good, simple style, where everything that’s going on is easy to understand and the emotions of the characters are clear at all times. The story offers a smooth, easy read from beginning to end, just the right kind of book to devour in a single afternoon.

“Once Upon Two Kingdoms” is available through Dye’s website, www.anadelc.com. 

Don't just dream, write!

Writing is hard. There are millions of books, essays, blog posts, letters, diary entries and online rants going into detail about how hard it is. We’re creating worlds here, taking little squiggles of ink and pixels and making them into entire living, breathing worlds, and it takes all of our blood, sweat and tears to make it happen. We’ve got to wrestle with characterization, dialogue, plotting, timing, interpersonal relationships, symbolism and any number of things that Literature teachers spend years talking about.

            

The biggest challenge, though, is getting started in the first place.

           

I’m a journalist by trade, and if you talk to any one of us long enough you’ll find out that most of us have a novel we’ve always meant to write. The same is true of Tumblr and online message boards, where fans come up with a whole host of fanfiction plots that they swear they’ll write or keep hoping someone will write for them.  Each and every one of them can always tell you the plot of their unwritten novel or story in exquisite detail, having spent hours, days or even years of their free time working it all out in their heads. They’re outlines even the most planning-obsessed writer would kill for.

            

And the tragedy of it all is that most of these stories will never be able to be read, because none of these people ever seem to write them down.

           

Getting that first sentence out of your head and onto the paper can be unspeakably terrifying. You’ve dragged your fantasy out into reality, and every insecurity and doubt you’ve ever had comes right along with it. The sentence sits there, lifeless, completely without the crackle and sparkle the story has in your dreams, and you want nothing more than to delete it immediately.

            

But don’t. Go on to the second sentence instead, then the third, fourth and even the fifth. Rip the scene out of you word by word and lay it down on the page. Let the characters you’ve come to know so well laugh and scream and trip all over the page. It doesn’t matter if it’s the first scene of your story. It doesn’t even matter if it’s any good. What matters is that it’s there, it’s real and you can touch it.

           

If you do this for long enough, you might get lucky and the words will start pouring out of you on their own. If that happens let it all pour out of you, not worrying if you’ve gotten a description wrong or part of the dialogue is terrible or you don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few minutes. All that matters right now is getting the words out of you and on to that page.

            

Later, you can go back and slap it all into shape. Even the most experienced writers rewrite and edit their work dozens of times, throwing away whole scenes and changing characters and redoing the ending when the first one didn’t work.

In the novel I just finished writing, I literally stumbled my way through an entire third act plot twist because I knew I needed to get from point A to point B but I had no clue how to get there. Later, when it was done and I could see the entire story arc laid out in front of me, I went back and rewrote that whole section exactly the way it should have been.

The truth is, no one’s first draft is very good. But if you never write that first draft, you’ll never get to the second (and the third, fourth, fifth, etc.). And, more importantly, you’ll never get to that moment when someone reads your story and tells you how grateful they are that it was out in the world for them to find. 

Black Friday Deals at Fairy Godmothers, Inc.!!!

Black Friday Deals

Complete Packages

Swan Lake Package - Usually $180, today only $139.95!

Is there someone in your life who isn't quite graceful enough to attract a spouse? Have them transformed into a swan and watch the romantic opportunities flock to his or her side! Our Swan Lake Package includes a swan transformation, accommodations in an appropriately picturesque lake, and a Fairy Godmother to play the role of evil enchantress. As always, specific spousal requests cost extra.

                                                        

12 Dancing Princesses Package - Usually $200, today only 119.95 a person!

Great for those families with multiple grandsons/granddaughters who aren't doing well socially! The 12 Dancing Princesses Package (can be modified for princes with an additional $20 per person fee) gives young people the chance to attend regular balls with mysterious, attractive strangers who may or may not be human. Note: This package is only open to those clients who can fill all 12 slots. Multiple clients may combine their purchase in order to meet package requirements.

Extras

Enchanted Thorns

Do you have a paramour who doesn't appreciate you enough? A sweetheart who won't take you seriously? Get them to prove their love by forcing him to chop through a wall of enchanted thorns! Enchanted Thorns kit includes starter seeds, instructions, and magic EZ GROW potion to ensure that the thorns reach maturity in 6-7 days. Disclaimer: Fairy Godmothers, Inc. will not be held responsible for any deaths or maimings that result from incorrect use of either the Enchanted Thorns or the EZ GROW potion.

To complete your order or learn more about Fairy Godmothers, Inc., visit either one of our fine retail portals. For more information, send us an e-mail at fairygincorporated@gmail.com.

Cinderella style: “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” alternate ending

This is the original ending for “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” I don’t like it quite as well as the one that made it into book – I wasn’t quite as good at juggling multiple people in the same scene when I wrote this, so certain characters were kind of shuffled off to the side – but it’s an interesting look at the different ways you can take a scene. The beginning and ending of the chapter will be very familiar to those who have read the book, but the middle plays out quite differently.

Chapter 26: Heroes and Fairy Godmothers

            Even though she’d known it was coming, Kate couldn’t help but tense at the word “arrest.” The hand that wasn’t holding John’s reached into her pocket, fingers curling around the vial that she’d slid in there at the last minute. She trusted John absolutely, but he of all people would approve of having an emergency backup plan.

The queen, however, was having none of it. She’d shot up out of her throne, face blazing with royal fury. “How dare you speak that way of a princess-to-be?” John had teased her about hiding under the stairs when his mother had come by earlier, but Kate had known that it would be a lot easier for the queen to defend her son’s sweetheart if she hadn’t actually met her yet. “You’re the one who should be arrested!”

            Bubbles swung her gaze back to the queen, suddenly dipping into a low bow as her instincts for dealing with upper management finally started to take over. “You don’t want this woman as a daughter-in-law, Your Majesty. She’s an employee of Fairy Godmothers, Inc. who has stolen valuable company property.” Her gaze slid back over to Kate for a second, rage flickering in the depths of her eyes. “Let me take care of the problem for you.”

            The queen’s brow lowered as she looked at her son. “I’m not particularly concerned with this ridiculous stealing business, Jonathan, but I warned you about marrying a Fairy Godmother.” She looked over at Kate, looking oddly regretful. “I’m sorry, my dear, but a princess can’t very well be employed by the people she’ll outrank.”

            Hesitantly, Kate raised her hand. “Actually, I quit, which means that I’m technically not a Fairy Godmother anymore.” She pushed the cloak off her shoulders, stretching her wings out briefly in sheer relief. “I’m just a fairy.”

            John grinned over at her. “And after she marries me, she’ll be a fairy princess.”

            The queen’s face cleared instantly. “Oh how fabulous. I’ve never had the chance to accessorize wings before.” Before Kate had a chance to get nervous over that last thought, the queen was glaring at Bubbles again. “I’m still upset with you, peasant.”

            Bubbles glared right back. “She broke the law, Your Majesty,” she said through clenched teeth. “You don’t want that kind of embarrassment.”

            “What’s to be embarrassed about?” John’s voice was easy, but pitched just right to catch the entire crowd’s attention. When they turned to him, he stepped forward and gently tugged Kate with him. “Her true love was being tormented by the effects of a wicked spell, and she stole the item needed to set me free. It’s a nearly textbook definition of a quest, and as such everything Kate did in the last 48 hours is covered by questing law.” He smiled, and Kate tried to look as relaxed and confident as he was. “The fact that the shoe fit merely confirms that she is, indeed, my true love.”

            Both the king and queen were now staring at John with lowered brows. “Why didn’t you tell me you were under a wicked spell?” the queen asked, warning in her voice. She turned to her husband. “Did he tell *you* he was under a wicked spell?”

            “There. Was. No. Wicked. Spell,” Bubbles insisted, glaring at John’s parents as if she could make them agree with her by sheer force of will. “It was merely a misunder—“

            The queen’s gaze snapped away from her husband, the righteous indignation rising again in her expression as she glared right back at Bubbles. “I should think my son can be trusted to know whether or not he was under a wicked spell!”

            Bubbles grit her teeth, a muscle visibly working in her jaw by the time she turned back to John. “So you’re going to continue with this ridiculous claim? That a simple business tool was some sort of terrible villainy you had to be freed from?”

            “Your ‘business tool’ held my mind hostage.” The room fell silent at the quiet intensity in John’s voice. “It kept trying to steal my free will and turn me into your little puppet.” Kate could hear the tension building with each word, and she squeezed his hand in an attempt to offer comfort. He glanced over at her, expression softening briefly as he gave her a return squeeze. “It tried to make me betray the people I care about most.”

            Bubbles’ glare only deepened, and Kate suddenly knew for certain that management had known exactly what happened to the people who didn’t accept the True Love.

            John smiled slowly at Bubbles, the expression remarkably similar to what Kate imagined a dragon would look like just before it decided to swallow the knight. “Which means that you, and by extension Fairy Godmothers, Inc., have a decision to make. You can walk out of here right now, cancel any and all contracts you might have on anyone in this room, and do your best to forget that Kate or any of the rest of us even exist. Or you can explain to all of those royal families whose sons and daughters married people they didn’t really approve of that you drugged them into thinking they’d fallen in love.”

            Bubbles eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t—” Her mouth instantly snapped closed, as if she’d realized how ridiculous the words were.

John’s smile merely widened. “I wonder what percentage of Fairy Godmother-created marriages would suddenly explode in messy, scandalous divorces. And the lawsuits …. The company’s reputation would be destroyed in a matter of what, days?”

            Bubbles stared at him, unable to speak for a moment, but the situation had collapsed too fast and she was beyond horror. Kate understood exactly what that felt like, which was why she wasn’t at all surprised when her former boss simply redirected her glare towards Kate. “It’s utterly beyond me how these people could be interested in anyone as irrelevant as you are, but for the good of the company it seems as though you’ll temporarily escape the consequences of your actions. Undoubtedly the royal family will come to regret making such a powerful enemy in the long run—”

            “No.” It took Kate a second to realize that she’d actually said the word out loud, but her voice was sure and steady as she slid her hand out of John’s hold and headed down the stairs towards Bubbles. “No more last-minute bluster. I may have started this mess, but I refuse to let anyone I care about have to keep worrying about you.”

            Kate stopped only a few inches away from her former boss, close enough that the older woman was forced to look up slightly to glare at her properly. “What do you think you’re going to do?” Bubbles sneered. “The only part in this entire escapade you haven’t managed to fail at completely is theft.”

            “True Love, however, never fails.” Kate pulled out her company issued bottle, undoing the spray top and holding it up directly in front of Bubbles’ eyes. “Maybe we should see what your romantic destiny is.”

            Bubbles actually paled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

            “Oh, but I’m pretty sure I would.” Kate smiled, feeling more than a little like a dragon herself. “You did it to John, after all. And I want to make sure that you’re really persuasive when you explain everything he just told you to management.”

            Bubbles’ eyes narrowed. “I won’t pursue the contract, but I am not going to tell—”

            Kate shook the bottle slightly. “I wouldn’t want to bespell any of the poor men behind you.” The four security guards that had followed Bubbles in immediately backed away in unison. “But I’m sure one of the palace guards would be happy to lose a boot to the greater good. Or maybe we should keep things simple and have you fall in love with the company uniform you’re wearing. I’m sure the two of you would be very happy together.”

            Bubbles teeth clenched. “How dare you think you get to be the hero in all this!” she hissed.

            “Actually, he’s the hero,” Kate said softly, tilting her head back towards John. She put the spray cap back on the True Love, dropping it into her pocket as she took a step back. “I’m just the Fairy Godmother.”

            There was a heartbeat of total silence, then the room broke into wild applause. At a gesture from John the guards dragged Bubbles and the men she’d arrived with out of the building, and everyone immediately swarmed together with cheers and congratulations.

Kate just watched it all for a minute, still reeling from the realization that everything had actually worked out like they’d hoped it would, until Rellie appeared and threw her arms around her. “That was so cool!” she laughed, squeezing tight until Kate had the good sense to hug her back. “You and John totally have to start that company so I can be a Fairy Godmother just like you are!”

Then Ned was there, and Rellie immediately launched herself into his arms. Over her shoulder, Ned grinned at Kate. “You did good, Boss.”

Kate grinned back. “So did you.” The shock had given way to sheer relief, and when Lawton’s hand touched her shoulder she impulsively hugged him as well. “Sorry you didn’t get any of the good lines, Lawton.”

He chuckled as they pulled away. “As long as my sacrifice is duly noted.”

A moment later she felt a hand, warm and gentle, on the small of her back. “Doesn’t the hero get a hug?” Without a word she turned and threw herself into John’s arms, pressing her face against his neck and holding onto her happy ending for all she was worth.

She didn’t let go even when she saw John’s mother approach, still looking royal despite the chaos that surrounded her. The queen gave both of them a long, carefully evaluating look, then sighed. “As much as I appreciate the way you and Jonathan verbally decimated that peasant, I do ask that you remember to use the term fairy princess instead of Fairy Godmother. When can we start your fitting for the wedding gown?”

“Actually, we’re planning on an extended engagement,” John said quickly, and Kate decided that it was close enough to the truth not to argue. “You’ll still be seeing her around the palace, but I’ll be giving her some kind of managerial title until she’s officially a princess.” Ned would be hired on as her assistant, they’d decided, and Kate would do what she could to distract Rellie (and John, probably) from the idea of a brand-new Fairy Godmother company.

The queen looked appalled. “You can’t hire your future bride! It’s just not done!”

“Okay.” John shrugged, then grinned at Kate. “You have to help me run the kingdom and keep my sanity out of the goodness of your heart, but you get free run of the treasury.”

Kate nearly had a heart attack at the words “free run of the treasury,” but it was very hard not to be okay when John had his arms around her. “Sounds fair.”

The queen opened her mouth again, clearly not feeling similarly settled about the matter, when a little girl suddenly appeared from between two people and dove beneath the edge of her skirt. The queen jumped, frantically trying to lift the layers of fabric hiding the child from view. “Jonathan, I’m certain I didn’t approve my gown being used as play equipment!”

Kate and John grinned at each other, then she pulled out of his arms to crouch down in front of the queen. “If I may, Your Majesty?” She lifted several layers of skirt just far enough to reveal the curly-haired child, who giggled at being discovered.

John leaned forward. “Hide and seek, I presume?”

Just as the girl nodded, a much taller figure burst through the crowd. “Lucy, I told you you’re not supposed to go ….” The voice trailed off, and the little girl dashed off again as everyone else looked up at the suddenly frozen Rupert.

He stared at his mother. “Um … hi?”

The queen’s eyes widened with delight. “You’re back from questing! Oh darling, this is wonderful! I have so much to talk to you about ….”

Panicked, Rupert glanced over at John, then sketched a quick bow to his mother before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

The queen’s eyes narrowed again as she whirled on her youngest son. “Jonathan, explain.”

John sighed, and Kate smothered a laugh as she put a consoling arm around his shoulders. “It’s a long story.”

Words

I love words. Each line and curve, each sound shaped by a human mouth, contains infinities. 

            

At some point I began to see words lining the world like bricks, every line and curve of reality bracketed on all sides by the description of it that unspools in my head. Every person that I know is a symphony of words, the memory of a thousand conversations mixing with a hundred silent realizations and that thing (or two) I keep meaning to tell them but never do. Words run through the marrow of my bones, skim over the surface of me like a second skin. My face is an accident of genetics, familiar but not particularly evocative of my identity. But read my words, and you’ll truly get a taste of who I am.

            

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t see the world this way – memories are mostly words, the only thing left when the hazy pictures have faded away. My childhood was filled with stories: smiling out at me from brightly colored books, scribbled across construction paper by my own hands, or spinning in the air as my family passed old memories back and forth like a ball tossed in the summer sunshine. Every story contains its own little world, each word holding a crash of lightning or the sound of someone’s laughter, and I had a thousand to choose from at any one moment. 

             

When I was younger I built them up like little castles, putting together simple stacks of word-bricks like other kids did with their super-sized Legos. The word-castles grew as I grew, developing turrets that spun upward into the heavens and moats that stretched fathoms deep. I learned how to build everything I wanted to see, shaping the words so they would radiate with the sound of someone’s laughter and follow the curve I could see so clearly in my mind. I pulled the words out of my heart, out of the hearts of those I loved, and used them to fashion blood and breath and bones.

When I die, all that will be left of me is words. The stories I’ve left behind will sit on shelves or in some forgotten corner of the Internet, and memories of me will be passed from mouth to ear among those who knew and loved me. I will live on as the thing I love the most.

Special Client

Special Client
by Jenniffer Wardell

"What the hell is this?"

"It's a script."

"I know it's a script, Frank, but what do I need a script for?" My improvisation not doing a good enough job for you?"

"No, Harry ..."

"Harriet!"

"Sorry. Of course not, Harriet. You're the sexiest voiced cross-dresser we have on staff, and I love the job you're doing. But this is for a special client."

"A phone-sex line has a special client?"

"Weird, I know. but this comes straight from the higher-ups."

"A phone-sex line has higher-ups?"

"Harriet..."

"Okay, okay. But still, why do i need a script? I'm creative -- I can treat this guy right."

"I'm sure that you can, but this one has ... special needs."

"Any more special than the guy that got turned on by egg yolks? He hung up satisfied."

A pause. "Well ... yes. Have you read the script, Harriet?"

"Not yet. But even when I do, how do i know what guy to use it for? We take names and credit card numbers, but the script doesn't include either."

"You'll know. Besides, he always calls at the same time."

"And when would that be?"

"I don't remember." A pause. "Do you know what the time difference is between here and Eastern Europe?"

"Eastern Europe?!"

"Just read the script, Harriet."

"Fine." A pause. "Night ... a huge bed ... balcony window ... black cape ... a fantasy scenario? That shouldn't be too hard."

"Keep reading."

"Nightgown -- ok ... heaving breasts -- like that's original ... a lot of neck descriptions -- unusual, but not a problem ... biting ... hey, wait a minute. Frank ..."

"Don't worry about it, Harriet. I'm sure you'll do great. Remember to compliment him on his huge, throbbing teeth. He loves that. Bye."


Click. 

Fairy Tale Material

If you haven't already experienced the genius that is A Softer World, go do so now.

Fairy tales are tricky things.

            

We tell ourselves that they’re just for young people, and that the rest of us have grown up enough to stop believing in them some time ago. But then years later, we dig into our secret hearts and find ourselves hoping that a man will ride in on his white horse and save us. Or we’ll finally find the secret makeover that will let us turn into a beautiful swan and enchant some handsome prince. Because that’s the way happily-ever-after is supposed to go.

            

Personally, I’m not what you’d call fairy-tale material. I’m short, painfully average-looking, not skinny, embarrassingly uncoordinated and only mildly clever. My courage and determination tends to come and go in fits and spurts. If I was very lucky, I might be hired as a Fairy Godmother (and probably fired for insubordination a few weeks later). More likely, I would be Serving Girl #3 during one of the random scenes in a tavern.

            

Because my brain lives to annoy me, I've known all of this for a long time. Even as I devoured stacks and stacks of fairy tale books, I knew my story wasn't in any of them. People like me didn't become heroes, and they certainly didn't become love interests. Brave, beautiful and clever people got those spots, and unless someone gave me a full brain/body transplant I wasn't going to be able to pull that off. Clearly, happily-ever-after wasn't meant for people like me. All I could hope for was a lifetime of scrubbing tables and hoping that a tragic inn fire wasn't going to be a major part of the real heroine’s plot.

          

But… what if there was a story for the rest of us? What if there were a thousand stories? Do gorgeous, talented people really deserve all the fairy tales? Aren't their perfect teeth enough of a consolation?

            

So I wrote. I took all my dreams, hopes, doubts and terrible sense of humor and I spun the kind of fairy tale I wished I could have heard as a teenager. And then I spun another one, because it would be the height of arrogance to think my happily-ever-after would suit someone else. And then another. And another.

You’re not supposed to think this hard about fairy tales. They’re not supposed to mean anything. But fairy tales are tricky things, and they worm their way into your brain and deep down into your soul until you believe them without meaning to. Until you find yourself imagining that office workers, interns, and even Serving Girl #3 deserve their own happily ever after, and they don’t have to make themselves any more beautiful or clever to do it. They’re fine just the way they are, and they’re perfectly capable of saving themselves. 

The Kindness of Strangers

In honor of the book blast. Get it?

You know those old nightmares you had when you were sitting down in a classroom for a test, and it’s only when you get the paper you realize that you’ve never taken this class before in your life? And all the questions are written in a special alien language that everyone else in the nightmare understands but you?

                

I had that EXACT feeling when the publisher’s PR guy e-mailed me a few weeks ago and said we were doing a book blast for “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” Since he couldn’t see me staring blankly at the computer screen, I asked him some carefully phrased questions that translated to “Help! I have no idea what I’m doing!” However, not wanting to look like an idiot, I was too subtle about it, and all I got back was basically “You’ll be fine.”

                

This was not comforting. Though I love winging it in my writing, I absolutely hate it in any area where I’m clueless. I have no doubt I will wing myself right off a cliff, and various people to whom I owe things will come stand at the edge of the cliff and look down at me disapprovingly.

                

So, after flailing around a bit on Google, I immediately resorted to begging. I had found Inspired Kathy’s blog in the magical land of the Internet, and essentially tried to beg her to take me in and save me from my problems. Though she was incredibly busy with her own life, she was kind enough not to call the online police and have them drag away her crazy new stalker. If I could figure out what I was doing, she would contribute a post to my book blast.

                

But I still had no idea what I was doing, so I threw myself on the mercy of the wonderful Berk Washburn, a fellow writer at Jolly Fish (“Pitch Green” is out – go buy it!). I threw myself on his mercy, and he saved my life by producing the magical detailed list of instructions I’d been yearning for. Bless you, sir, you are my super hero.

                

Of course that was only the beginning. I had to then throw myself on EVERYONE’S mercy, which is a complicated process involving lots of hopping. I posted desperate, imprecise pleas with various Facebook groups and message boards, and if all of you had entirely ignored me it would have been only fair.

                

But you didn’t. Ella Medler, from Writers on the Storm, kindly took me aside and helped make my blog post package presentable. Other writers from the same Facebook group offered to contribute their Tweets the day of the event. Jolly Fish writers, including my very own super hero Berk, did the same thing. R.K. Grow, one of my most faithful Facebook followers, put up a post. So did Kayla S. and Jesse Kimmel-Freeman, two amazing authors who were still willing to speak to me after my “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” blog tour. And that’s not including all the people I’d never spoken to before, who still took a moment to Tweet, reTweet, or post about my dear little book yesterday.

                

I’m not one of those people to depend on the kindness of strangers, or even Internet friends/casual acquaintances/ stalking targets. But this time I had to, and you came together in your immense generosity and helped save a new writer in her time of need. There will never be enough words to thank you all. The world seems like a slightly brighter place this morning, now that I know all of you are in it.

I know racked up an immense amount of karmic debt yesterday. I’m super poor, so I can’t actually shower you all with money like you deserve, but if you’re ever in need e-mail me and I swear I’ll do what I can to help. I love you all, even those of you I've never met before, and I won't forget this. 

Fairy Godmothers, Inc. fiction: Squirrel Lessons

Photo by Jenniffer Wardell

Squirrel Lessons

By Jenniffer Wardell

It was supposed to be a simple job.

The client was the soon-to-be Viscount of Thornby, a young man who had spent the last six months as an enchanted squirrel. He’d annoyed whoever cursed him enough that they’d also taken away his ability to talk like a human, but Kate had found a squirrel translation charm that solved that problem.

The curse could only be broken by a kiss from a maid who was genuinely pure in heart, which was a slightly more complicated problem. Still, careful research and some legal wrangling over the definition of “pure” had turned up a perfectly nice young woman named Leslie who seemed to fit the bill. A rumor about a unicorn sighting had gotten her into the clearing, she had found the artfully displayed translation charm that someone had just “happened” to leave behind, and everything was ready to go.
 

Hiding behind a tree, Kate turned to the enchanted squirrel perched on her shoulder. “That’s your cue,” she whispered.

The squirrel nodded, then leapt down off her shoulder and headed into the clearing. He’d stop in front of Leslie and begin the speech they’d prepared, and Kate would add a little sparkle just to help get the point across. She lifted her wand, ready to nudge things along….

Only to have Thornby head straight through the clearing and disappear into the trees on the opposite side.

Shock had Kate frozen for a split second, then she hurried through the clearing after him. Leslie looked up, the hope on her face disappearing as soon as she saw who it was. “You’re not a unicorn.”

Kate hadn’t planned on dignifying that with a response, but she realized she was missing something. Doubling back, she plucked the charm out of the woman’s hand. “I need that.”

It took her 15 minutes to find Thornby, who was high on a branch cuddled up to another squirrel. She yanked him down by the tail, causing a horrified squeak from the other squirrel, and held him upside down in front of her. “I should make you into a hat, you little sneak. What do you think you’re doing, running off with a poor innocent real squirrel? Does she even know what you really are?”

They both started chattering at her at once. Apparently, the translation charm worked for all squirrels.

“Okay, fine. But if you were so honest with her, why didn’t you have the guts to tell me what your little plan was?”

More chatter.

“I understand wanting to be free of your mother. But you can’t really want to spend the rest of your life as a squirrel, do you?” Kate didn’t add that she wouldn’t get paid if she didn’t produce a human Thornby.

More chatter.

“Yes, I know she’s a squirrel. But you’re going to miss food that isn’t seeds. And surely you have friends somewhere.”

More chatter.

“How can you be so sure you won’t regret this? And if you do, nobody’s going to be standing around with a convenient squirrel translation charm.”

At this, the female squirrel jumped off the tree and knocked against Kate’s hand long enough to make her drop Thornby. Kate swore, ready to start chasing them again, but then the female squirrel touched her nose to Thornby’s.
 

There was a swirl of magic, and a second later a very human man was standing in front of her. It took Kate a second to realize what had happened. “Mental note,” she murmured to herself. “Wild animals count as ‘pure in heart.’”

Thornby, however, wasn’t listening. He dropped to his knees in front of the squirrel, his face a picture of despair. “Reetcheet, what did you do?”

The squirrel started chattering, and Thornby looked even more despairing. Kate, taking pity on him, held out the translation charm. “This might help.”

He gripped it tight in his hands while the female squirrel kept talking. Kate could no longer understand what she was saying, but a moment later his expression cleared. “If you’re sure, then I’m absolutely thrilled. I’ll find a witch right away.”

The squirrel leapt onto his shoulder, and they both stood. “She wants to become human,” he said, looking absolutely delighted.

Kate smiled. She hadn’t quite gotten over being annoyed yet, but Thornby’s pleasure was infectious. “Great. Just let me handle explaining this to your mother.” It was, technically, everything the woman had contracted with Fairy Godmothers Inc. to provide.
 

She just hadn’t bothered to specify a daughter-in-law who didn’t speak squirrel.

Fairy Godmothers, Inc. Flash Fiction: Icebreaker

Icebreaker

By Jenniffer Wardell

The dance hadn’t worked.

Kate and the client, a shy but perfectly nice young lady named Bonnie, were currently hiding out in the castle corridor trying to figure out what had gone wrong. At the moment, the “figuring” mostly consisted of Bonnie crying and Kate thinking evil thoughts about the young Count Duboir.

“He hates me,” Bonnie whimpered, trying to keep her sobs quiet. “When we started dancing I thought he liked me for a minute, but then he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Kate soothed, rubbing a hand along the girl’s back. She’d actually been dumb enough to like the painfully young count for about five minutes. He’d looked incredibly uncomfortable at the party, but when he’d seen Bonnie step out onto the dance floor his whole face had lit up. She didn’t understand why he’d bolted the minute the song ended, which made the whole thing that much more infuriating. “I’ll figure out something.”

“It won’t work.” Bonnie shook her head, her voice wet. “You did everything just right.” She sniffed, sounding absolutely miserable. “It’s all my fault. I should have giggled more or something. But all I could do was stare at him.” That started the tears up again. “He was just so wonderful….”

Oh, the poor girl. “Listen, you’re the wonderful—“ Kate stopped, practically able to feel the pieces clicking into place. “You didn’t talk to him very much, did you? When you were dancing, you didn’t have to, but afterward you’re expected to stare at each other and say all kinds of romantic nonsense.”

“I was hoping he wouldn’t notice when I didn’t say much.” Wiping at her wet cheeks, Bonnie watched Kate stand up with a confused look. “Is that what I did wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong,” Kate said firmly, helping Bonnie to her feet. “The count is just as shy as you are, and after the dance was over he panicked.”

Bonnie just stared at her. “How do you know?”

“I don’t, but any other explanation means I have to kill him.” Kate dragged Bonnie back toward the ballroom, stopping just outside the doors. “Is there any chance at all you might be willing to start a conversation with the man?”

Bonnie looked panicked. “What would I say? I don’t know enough to sound interesting!”

Kate sighed. “Okay, option two.” She watched the pages run back and forth between the kitchen and ballroom, then snagged a dish of custard off of one of the trays. Watching the crowd until the count came into view again, she dumped the custard over Bonnie’s head.

The girl looked like she was about to cry again. “I really liked this dress.”

“Yes, but now the count has a reason to talk to you,” Kate said, pushing Bonnie through the door. The girl just stood there a moment, looking miserable, but when the count saw her a look of instant dismay crossed his face.

Immediately, he pushed his way to her side. “Are you all right?” he asked Bonnie, taking her hands in his. When the girl just shook her head, still sniffling, the count led her out the door. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Hiding safely around a different corner, Kate grinned

The Next Big Thing: Beast Charming

Thanks, Wikipedia!

The Next Big Thing: Beast Charming

So, The Next Big Thing has come around to me again! Since “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” has already had its time in this particular sun, I thought I’d give you guys a peek at “Beast Charming,” my book coming out in 2014.

Where did the idea for the book come from?

I love “Beauty and the Beast,” except for one little problem. I wanted it to be about seeing the beauty within people, but most versions I ran across seemed to say that love meant you had to change yourself. Besides, arguing is a lot more fun than listening to songbirds.

What genre does your book fall under?

Like “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” “Beast Charming” is humor/fantasy/romance. Technically, the two are even set in the same world.

What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Kat Dennings from “Two Broke Girls” and “Thor” as Beauty (she’s too attractive, but what can you do?) As for Beast … wow. I honestly have no idea (though CGI would need to co-star, I’m sure.)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Beauty finally finds a fairy tale she can believe in, but she has to fight her father, magic, and her own self-doubts to keep it.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It depends on what you count as the first draft of the manuscript…. Let’s say two years. Of course, I also say I’m 5’6’’ instead of 5’5’’ and a half, so I’m probably not the most scrupulously precise person.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

“Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” for starters. Beyond that, fans of Terry Pratchett and Patricia Wrede’s “Enchanted Forest Chronicles” will definitely want to give me a try.

What inspired you to write the book?

This is the version of “Beauty and the Beast” I always wanted to read. Since no one else wrote it, I had to.

What else about your book might pique a reader’s interest?

Well, a full summary might help:
http://jollyfishpress.com/press%20release/102412_Beast_Charming_by_Jenniffer_Wardell.html

Thanks and a huge shout-out to the Berk and Andy Washburn, who invited me into this round of “The Next Big Thing.” Check out their blog post about their upcoming book, “Pitch Green!”

http://thebrotherswashburn.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-next-big-thing.html

So You Want to Rule the World: The Aiming Question, pt. 1

Does this look like a happy villain?
I don't think so.

The Aiming Question, pt. 1

It is a tragic but well known prejudice against villainry that they will never be allowed to shoot the hero. No matter how many times supervillains, average guys or people doing the grunt work for supervillains try and aim at the hero (especially during a shoot-out) they will always miss.

The hero, of course, will hit your men with disabling or lethal shots at least half the time, and more so if they are slightly more intelligent than a rock. Since few heroes fall into this category, however, it’s safe to assume that approximately 50 percent of your recently hired minions will survive a run in with an average hero.

Sadly, there is no way to get around this, no matter how good a marksman a supervillain is. Writers may give villains all the witty dialogue – heroes can never deliver it properly – but they also refuse to let a hero be killed in all but a very narrow window of circumstances. The reading/viewing public has an appallingly narrow definition of a happy ending, and that generally involves truth or justice and other such nonsense. Especially in a recession, no one wants to see an enormous castle of bones or 20-foot robots capable of kicking down buildings.

One of the few exceptions to this rule are horror movies, particularly if you have a particular resentment against attractive but stupid college girls. The problem with this is that the antagonists in horror movies are pigeonholed into constant killing and menacing, which is only a small slice of the duties and rewards a supervillain is generally responsible for. If this is your niche then more power to you, but there will be no ostentatious thrones or floating castles in your future.

The second exception is mob movies, which will occasionally let an enterprising young soul parlay drugs, guns and menacing into a life of parties and attractive women. Unfortunately, these are generally booby-trapped with pernicious moral lessons, and any villain who finds himself in this situation is likely to die in a hail of bullets.

Thankfully, there’s hope. While fatally shooting the hero might not be in your immediate future, there are plenty of other ways to disable the hero while you make off with the loot. We’ll discuss some of these options in part two.

Spammily Ever After

Fairy Godmothers, Inc. holiday short story: Lost

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Lost

By Jenniffer Wardell

It was always best to stomp your snow boots clean before breaking into a client’s house for the big reveal. Kate was sure management wouldn’t approve of Fairy Godmothers wearing snow boots at all, but they weren’t the ones having to trudge through foot-high snow drifts. What they didn’t know would keep Kate’s feet warm.

She’d already figured out where the kitchen was, so her next step was to transport herself inside. Once the glow from the magic disappeared, Kate scanned the room for her client. It was the usual wicked stepmother fostering situation, so odds were the girl would be curled up by the fireplace….

There was no girl. Instead, there was an older man in a red, fur-trimmed outfit that was about a century or so out of fashion. He had a bulging bag slung over his shoulder, a hat with a puffball on the end, and he looked desperately lost.

Which was good, because he had definitely not been mentioned in the file. “Sir?” she said carefully, trying to figure out if he had a weapon on him anywhere. Sure, he looked harmless, but there were plenty of people who used that as camouflage. “I’m sorry, but you really don’t look like you’re where you want to be.”

“I don’t think I am.” The man’s voice was so warm and friendly that Kate immediately suspected he was a sorcerer of some kind. No one sounded like that naturally. “I’ve been to five houses now, and there hasn’t been a single Christmas tree, set of wooden shoes, menorah, or any other signs people use to celebrate the season.”

Kate’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’ve never heard of Christmas trees or menorahs, and the only people I’ve ever heard of who wear wooden shoes are a few of the older fairies.”

“Fairies?” Now the man looked alarmed. “Those wings aren’t just a costume, are they?”

“Nooo.” Maybe he was getting senile. His family or assistants should really be keeping better track of him – magic could be dangerous even in full possession of their faculties – but it wasn’t his fault. Maybe she could help him get home after she’d finished with the initial client meeting. “Why don’t you sit down for a little while. I need to talk to someone who lives here, but then after that I can help get you where you’re supposed to be.”

“That’s a kind thought, but I have far too many things to do tonight.” Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out what appeared to be a crystal ball swirling with snow. He held it up to the moonlight to peer inside it, flicking a finger against the side. Immediately, it turned the deep black of the night sky, strange lights swirling inside.

After a moment of studying it, he sighed. “I knew I should have taken a left turn at the Andromeda Galaxy.”

Yep, definitely senile. She couldn’t let this man go out wandering on his own, for his sake if nothing else. “Sir, I understand about being busy, but maybe I can help you with that, too.” Kate stepped towards him. “If you could just wait a few minutes….”

“No need, my dear. It was so much simpler with the sleigh, but I’ll get the hang of this yet.” Putting the crystal back in his pocket, he slung the bag around so he could reach inside. “Now, I may be in the wrong universe, but you are definitely on the nice list. And I can’t leave anyone on the nice list empty handed.”

“That’s very sweet, but I really don’t need anything.” Sorcerers, especially crazy ones, tended to have a … strange view of appropriate presents. “Let’s just….”

“Ah, here it is.” With a satisfied expression, the man pulled a small, wrapped present out of the bag. The paper appeared to be covered in pine trees with little stars on top, and when she looked closely her name was on the gift tag.

Surprised, she looked up at him. Most sorcerers couldn’t read minds, and she’d taken over Daisy’s client when the other woman had gone home sick with the Giant Flu. No one was supposed to know she was here. “How do you know my name?”

The man’s eyes twinkled. “Christmas magic, my dear.” Then he laid a finger against the side of his nose, winked at her, and promptly disappeared.

Kate stayed where she was for a moment, staring at the space he’d been. She still didn’t know what this “Christmas” thing was he kept talking about, but she was definitely going to check news reports for the next few days.

The Next Big Thing: Fairy Godmothers, Inc.

My new book, “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” is being published in late April 2013 by Jolly Fish Press. http://www.amazon.com/Jenniffer-Wardell/e/B005RREFUM The wonderful people at Jolly Fish are putting together an official site for the book now, but the members of The Next Big Thing blog hop are giving me a chance to give you guys an early introduction to the book.

The Next Big Thing: Fairy Godmothers, Inc.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

I’ve always wondered why fairy godmothers go around sneaking poor girls into fancy dress balls. The only answer that made any sense was that they must be paid for it.

What genre does your book fall under?

Fantasy/humor/romance. Yes, I know there’s no section in bookstores for that, but why limit yourself?

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

My publisher, Christopher Loke, mentioned Emma Stone for Kate. Kate was flattered by the comparison, naturally, but is sure she’s nowhere near as pretty as Emma.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Kate, an employee of Fairy Godmothers, Inc., falls in love and saves the day in the middle of her most complicated assignment yet.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

The first draft was so long ago I genuinely don’t remember. Let’s just say that Kate and I have known each other for a very long time and leave it at that.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

All fantasy humorists dream of one day being compared to Terry Pratchett. People who have read early drafts have also compared to Mercedes Lackey’s 500 Kingdoms books and Patricia C. Wrede’s Enchanted Forest Chronicles.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

I love fairy tales, but the heroines were always so good and beautiful that I kind of wanted to smack them with something. What about the witty, sarcastic girls? What about the girls who no one notices? What about the girls who have never really fit in anywhere? I wanted THOSE fairy tales.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

“Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” is what happens when fairy tales and reality collide.

Thanks everyone! You can also check out other blogs in the blog hop, including our useful, interesting and funny home base, Slow Stir: http://shaundawenger.blogspot.com/ Jolly Fish can be found at http://jollyfishpress.com/

Proving my worth

The kanji for worth (with thanks to about.com)

I forget things.

Sometimes, this is where on earth I just put the cordless phone I was holding five seconds ago. Other times, it’s the fact that, when I was in jr. high, I was so terrified about getting a good grade in a class I already had an A+ in that I seriously tried to steal my mother’s books to get extra credit. It’s survived now as a funny story, but at the time I was so desperate to get an A that the fact I already *had* an A didn’t console me in the slightest.

Looking back from the peaceful vantage point of relative well-adjustment, I can see that I was so desperate to be the smartest because I was absolutely desperate to prove my worth to the people around me. I couldn’t fit in with the other kids, and felt that the fact I didn’t even really want to – I was lonely, but they were stupid – was another flaw in me somehow. But I was smart. I was smarter than any of them. And if I could keep stacking up those As, I could show the world just how wrong they were to dismiss me.

Now, I’m not nearly so desperate anymore. I’ve found people who can see my worth without me having to prove it to them – not many, true, but as many as I need. More importantly, I can see my own worth clearly enough that I don’t doubt it anymore. And I wish more than anything that I could reach back in time and convince my teenage self of that very thing. Maybe even hug her.

She’d deserve it.

The pleasure and sorrow of tragic fiction

In some ways, sadness is terribly entertaining to read about. There’s something about picturing the glistening of a character’s eyes as they bravely hold back tears, or feeling the ache of a poetic, heartbreaking grief that you can set down just as you close the book behind you, that makes life feel wonderfully theatrical. Only dramatic people could be caught up in such great, sweeping dramatic emotions, and when we read about those people we can borrow some of that drama even if the most significant element in our day is where we go to eat on our lunch hour.

After too long, however, I feel guilty. When we read we bring the characters to life, if only for a little while, and when I read tragic books I’m dancing them through the worst days, weeks and even years of their lives purely for my own amusement. Angst can only be truly appreciated if it gets better, if you can dramatically suffer through those lows just long enough to come out on the other side with a sigh of relief and a safe place to lay your head. As the characters rest, so can we, and the world feels like a slightly better place all the way around.

Of course, I would never say any of this to an English Lit teacher. They might take away my union card.

What are your thoughts on happy or sad fiction?