how it begins

by Rain Trueax

If you are wanting to become an author, the first thing you will hear is write to the market. It makes sense. See what is out there and find your own version of it. There is nothing wrong with that for painters or writers. It's not though how I've done it and hence-- here's how it works for me, the process I use, which varies with the book, of course.

Often, I start with location, a situation, and then who might be involved in it. Once in a while, the situation and the who might be reversed. Most of the time though location is the initial inspiration.

Fairy Tales for Grown Ups

by Rain Trueax

Recently during a good conversation about many things, a friend told me she was unwilling ever to read my paranormals. She has been supportive of my romances, but a world with demons and monsters was a bridge too far. My mind is much on these books since I finished the rough draft of my seventh in a series called Mystic Shadows.

I didn't ask her specifically about what she feared from them because that's her business. If she's uncomfortable with something, then that's enough reason. I can think of possible reasons she might have concerns, which led to this blog.

dreams and Uranus

by Rain Trueax

central Arizona photo

Astrologers say the planet Uranus went retrograde (whatever that means), and from between the 11^th and 12^th   of August until January 2020 it will be a time of intensity (like the world needs more of that...) and a time to look for omens and synchronicities. 

So dreams fit under that category, right? The night of the 12^th, I had two dreams that were kind of linked and kind of not. That I remembered both when I woke up is a little unusual for me. I generally just hold onto one, the last one. 

Spring and the Crow Moon

by Rain Trueax
 

We spent this week still waiting on the carport permit. This is so frustrating as it's about length of nails, amongst other things, a not understanding all the rules before getting into the game, and a city that doesn't appear to have enough employees to cover those needing permits getting them in a timely manner. If we were in the county, as we had been when we bought this place, the contractor would already have the carport built. As it is, process puts him and us on hold and not a thing we can do about it as any rushing the gun and starting to build without a permit and inspections would lead to a $500 fine and maybe having to undo what had been done. The power is in the hands of those who have no reason to worry about our schedule. 

Enough whining on that. We had two things interesting-- to us-- happen this week. One happened to everybody. The other was just for us.

writing what comes

by Rain Trueax

Some of you, if you have been with this blog long enough, know about my newest exploration of the 'other' side, the Hemstreet Witches based in Arizona. Those books have been exploring what might be for powers, as well as what is unseen by most of us. They are as much metaphysical as they are paranormal. Is it possible that some are born with insights and power to see beyond the physical reality? I write these stories because I think life is not that firm for "What Is". 

a monster or more

by Rain Trueax

In 1992, I wrote my first paranormal, Sky Daughter, where the heroine returned to her grandfather's Idaho mountain after a series of losses. Once there, she learns things about her family that she hadn't expected when she finds her grandmother's Book of shadows-- a witch's compilation of her spells, potions, and experiences. Going against the rules as this book is only to be given to witches, Maggie's grandmother had left it for her with a note inside.

For the first time, Maggie understands why her mother had kept her away from her grandmother. This is only the first of what Maggie is about to discover in a world that isn't at all what she had believed. Something bigger, something unseen is out there. What is it? She has known many emotions, but fear is new to her. As I wrote, I contemplated an important point to the plot-- was what she felt real or her imagination coming from her losses? I reached the point where I had to decide. 

mystery

by Rain Trueax 

The reason why I write paranormals, despite not having a clear genre where my work fits, is my curiosity as to what might be, a belief that we don't know all we think we do, and my own experiences-- along with the challenge of exploring mystery with characters where it's imaginary ...or is it? 

Mythologies, the stories through which each culture determines the meaning of life and often rules for behavior, don't necessarily have to be imaginary. They could be a remembered history and are part of human life on this planet. In human cultures, some mythologies are more accepted than others; but if it isn't in history or happening now, it is mythology and fits into the world of the paranormal-- that which (despite arguments to the contrary) we cannot test and prove by something currently out there. It is a fascinating realm for those open to wonder and open to going where questions take them.

why the paranormal

by Rain Trueax

It's St. Patrick's Day, about which I thought of writing, since it's important to a lot of people-- even those not Irish. I am though really not much for saints of any sort even if they drove all the snakes out of somewhere, which I personally doubt. Instead, I'm interested in why some supernatural myths appeal to us and others frighten us.

It is ironic to me, is it to you? If you pray to an angel, it's okay but if you consult a spirit guide, it's not. Opening a Bible randomly to give wisdom for the day is fine but Tarot cards not so much. A miracle is accepted if it came from some sources but not from others. The Virgin Mary on a piece of toast is inspirational but a ghost telling someone how to invest in the stock market, not okay. On it goes.

I think these kinds of questions began my interest in the supernatural world which can nicely dovetail with the scientific.  Don't believe me? Check out quantum physics sometime for what we know and don't know about what we consider the reality of life. You think you are solid, think again and it's not just about atoms or time. Life is full of what we think isn't actually what is.

When I wrote my first paranormal, I didn't decide early on whether it'd have a real supernatural being in it. I tiptoed into the water of the other side gingerly with Sky Daughter. 

More than a few years later came When Fates Conspire. If you are interested in its beginning (out of a 2013 dream), I wrote more about it [here]. It was the first novella of what became three paranormals, which eventually ended up in one book, Diablo Canyon. (I still find that one of the more confusing things I've done as a writer because when I try to list how many books I've written, those three are slightly different without the spice but the same story. Still, I made it that way so that I could open the novel's door on the sexual relationships of the couples). The stories fit together into one book because they involve humans (some with extra powers) coming to eventually fight monsters, of the Native American sort, who have gathered on a canyon south of Billings, Montana. I used a mix of science and magic for the challenges.

The next time I was tempted into the paranormal was driving through downtown Tucson and Barrio Viejo. It was there that I saw the possibility of young, professional couples with a difference-- the women being natural born witches, dedicated to protecting the street. The first of those came out in 2016 and the most recent this year. 

To date, my paranormals have met with very limited interest from most of my readers who love historicals. The question then being-- why continue to write a series that few will ever see or give a try? Well, there is a reason. They excite my interest of what might be. It's fun to create a gnome as a secondary character or have a grandmother, who is Navajo, and lives a very physical life with her sheep and weaving but has protected her land in ways that have come naturally to her. That's the nature of the paranormal, where each writer makes their own rules.

In a paranormal, if I want to have a heroine, who can look into someone's memories (The Shaman's Daughter) or is convinced if people just understood more of the supernatural world, they'd see good guys there (To Speak of Things Unseen) or to be a witch and not want the gifts until they suddenly mean life or death (A Price to be Paid), or my latest where the heroine has to open herself to her human side with more trust (Something Waits), those are the fun parts of writing paranormals. 

In my case, I also see there being a responsible side when I create these fantasy elements in ways that are positive and show how to deal with what is not. Take away the powers and these books are like all my others for their values and what the story has for important elements. 

What they don't have are many readers and finding that kind of reader, open to mystery of life, is what I am looking to do. Turning away from what has been popular writing is not necessarily lucrative in a physical sense, but I don't know any other way to write and stay true to the Muse. ;)

What's around us

by Rain Trueax

It is hard to believe it's already March, and, we've been in Tucson two months. Where did the time go? The lambing and calving are going as usual in Oregon-- except, there are others taking care of them and feeding out the hay. As cold as it's been, there has been a need for more hay. We've had some losses, but that' happens whether we are there or not. One of the men who has always looked after the place has been sick; so lucky we had two backups (one is our son).

a character from Something Waits

Down here, after I finished the rough draft for 'Something Waits,' it went off to editor, beta readers and then back to me for final corrections. I took out a subscription in Dreamscope to do work on its trailer. On the editing, I am going slow with it for assorted reasons. Having done about 1/3 of it using Speech Recognition, there are some odd mistakes, places where the computer doubled up on what I had just written. It's taking a lot to find all the places that speech recognition used a different word or spelling than I intended.

Wherever I am, I always take a few minutes when I first wake to remember any dreams from the night. Sometimes that helps with a book element. Sometimes, it's mundane and filled with daily frustrations or ordinary events. Dreams are important to me though and I pay attention to them. Once in a while, there will be a symbol that isn't part of anything I can connect to me and then I go to an online site i like for dream interpretation.

Whether in Oregon or Arizona, we are up before first light. The cats get fed (3 black and one orange). I read the papers, hope nothing bad happened, write, eat breakfast (which my husband cooks). With the essential repairs to the house out of the way, we are concentrating on figuring out what exactly we can get done, before we have to leave, on what had hoped to be an addition. That may not happen. 

We had an odd happening involving the house where we got a letter to someone else but at our address. By the time, Ranch Boss traced it down, it turned out the title company had goofed two owners back. So far, it looks like more of a nuisance than major problem *fingers crossed*. It involves a lot-line adjustment that let that owner build a

swimming pool. It appears the title company has responsibility to get it right. The assessors office said it's common in this area of older homes and irregular lots. It's not all settled yet but very good we were here to get that letter.

One thing about this house is it's more nature oriented than our Oregon home, which is more ranch oriented. In Oregon, there are fences around the immediate house that allow the sheep and cattle to be down around the house and still have flowers and keep the cats from roaming. Here, every window looks out at desert with the potential to also see the bobcats, coyotes, hawks, bunnies, quail, and a myriad of birds. Sometimes I see nothing, the next time a roadrunner might pass by. A fence again keeps the cats safe from what lurks beyond.

The book I am hoping to have out early next week has shamans and witches as the primary characters-- good and bad. I realized as I looked around the house that Casa Espiritu looks like the home of a shaman. Some of what is in it has long been owned by us. Some was acquired by us for this home. It has touches of various spiritual traditions without one dominating the other.

I write paranormals, even when they have not been particularly successful for me. If I was writing what has sold the best, it'd be historical romances. I like them but right now my heart is into the mysteries of life. What is really around us? Do we see what we expect to see or what is? Once upon a time, I thought I knew. Now I don't but I write books that let me explore  mystery. Maybe someday those books will be wanted by others. A writer though has to write what comes to them or it becomes craft. There is a place for craft, of course. :)

Samhain

by Rain Trueax

Most know that Halloween is October 31st, a holiday that some consider All Hallow's Eve, but it has Celtic and pagan roots where it is known as Samhain. Pagan holidays like Imbolc, Beltane, Lammas, and Samhain follow a yearly tradition of seasons with spiritual connotations. 

Samhain is the day when the 'other' side is closer to human life than usual, where some put up altars to their relatives who have departed because they feel the veil is most easily pierced. It's not surprising why costumes like ghosts or witches have been popular for the parties or trick-or-treating.

In my books, I've sometimes used these celebrations. Samhain is in one of my Oregon historicals, [Love Waits], and I plan it will be (with more of its spiritual meaning) in the work in progress. 

In the historical, it was for fun and showed the family's growing strength where marriages happened and children began to grow up. Jed (hero from Going Home) wanted to share with his Oregon family the Scottish and Southern traditions with which he'd grown up.

Here's a bit from the fourth in the Oregon series-- a teaser for the family as well as readers for what might be coming. 

from Love Waits:

Belle headed back down the hall and looked in on Rand before she went to the children’s rooms. The girls were already whispering and so she opened the door without knocking. Jessica seemed enamored of whatever Laura was telling her. She looked up at Belle. “Samhain,” she said. “That’s what it is next week. Did you know that?”

“No, I did not. What does it mean?”

“It’s when we play games and bob for apples, and something Uncle Jed called Puicini. It’s kind of fortune telling. Do you think that’s bad?”

Belle smiled. “Not at all. How do you play it?”

“You are blindfolded and then there are four saucers in front of you. They are moved around. The one you choose is what your next year will be full of.”

“And the saucers are each?

“Earth, water, beans, and money. I guess we all want money as not sure what the others would mean.” Laura grinned. “Uncle Jed said they do this from where he came. It’s a nighttime game. He said sometimes even with fireworks. I haven’t yet gotten to do it but they said we will tomorrow night.”

“It sounds like great fun especially the bobbing for apples.”

“It might be pagan.” Laura’s face took on a worried expression.

“It doesn’t sound like that,” Belle said as she helped Jessica out of her nightgown and into a dress. “It sounds like it is nature oriented. Working the earth and it yielding all you wanted, would be like a garden. The water would be maybe a trip.” She smiled as she considered other options. “Or enough rain to keep the land good. “Beans would be food, and of course, we know what money is, don’t we.”

“He said they sometimes decorate for it too. It’s also about the ones who... went before us. Kind of, I think.”

“Then even better.”

“Except, he said sometimes there are ghost stories,” Laura said. “That might be scary.”

Now Elizabeth and Jessica looked worried. “What’s a ghost?” Jessica asked.

Laura looked at Belle for help.

“Well ghost stories are just for fun. They are supposed to scare us but in a way that we know it’s not real. So you get tingles up your spine.” She reached over and tickled up Elizabeth’s back. “And they can be about mysteries where nobody knows what really happened, and they tell stories to try and figure it out. Does your Uncle Jed have some ghost stories that he shares?” she asked trying to turn this back to Laura. She hoped she had said nothing to interfere with what Amy had been teaching.

“Uncle Jed said he would tell us one. One he had been told when he was a little boy. It has to be in the dark though. He said anyone could tell a ghost

story if they wanted. Do you know any?”

Belle smiled remembering how she had admired her older sisters and wanted them to show interest in her. Now she had a niece. She had not thought how important a responsibility that was.

“Well, if I think of one, I’ll definitely share it.”

Laura, Elizabeth and Jessica smiled broadly.

“And I forgot,” Belle said, “head to the kitchen. Breakfast is ready.”

All images from Stencil

 

he's a bear-shifter-- who knew!

My writing has been broken up by life-- which has a way of happening. I am trying to get back into it as the characters take on more flesh. I learn things about them that I might've felt but did not know in the beginning-- which has a way of happening. In the case of my hero for Something Waits, I did not originally know he was a bear-shifter. It came to me as I recognized the conflicts he faced coming from two ethnicities-- adding to it the family secrets which must not be spoken.

Below is a snippet of one aspect of his life that has impacted who he is in ways most of us will never experience or believe because we know what the 'real' world is... Because this is part of a raw first draft, it might be different in the book-- editing has a way of doing that.

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Marsh ground his teeth. He felt the kind of anger that never led to good. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said to Jericho, leaving the room and managing to not slam the door. 

His hotel sat on the edge of the Catalinas with desert around it. Perfect for what he needed. Soon, he’d gone far enough from the buildings to strip out of his clothing and let it happen. The cells in his body transformed their energy and within moments, the process was complete—he no longer appeared as a human but had taken on the form of a large bear. He lunged forward, not needing moonlight to see his way now that he had a bear's vision and senses. The width of the trail was perfect for him to gallop up the trail—his speed increasing the higher he got. Dark as it was, he didn't expect to run into humans on the trail. If he did, he'd know enough ahead to go off trail and wait out their passing.

Taking on an animal's form had given him no comfort the first time it’d happened. He’d been ready to graduate from high school, angry at something that he no longer even recalled. That day, with no warning, he'd felt his body morph into that of an animal. He had been fortunate he’d been up on Mt. Lemmon when it happened, hiking, thinking, and trying to work out his future. Being a bear had not been part of it. In confusion and panic, he’d stayed where he was and waited for whatever had happened to go away. Finally, it had. His clothing had been torn, but he’d put on what he could and driven back down the mountain to try and understand.

Being half Navajo, Marsh had heard the stories of skinwalkers, humans who turned animals. Some of them had become bears. Skinwalkers were always evil, seeking power from unholy sources. He had not sought power—other than having allowed his anger build to an unhealthy level.

The years since found him researching other ways such transformations could happen. Except in the Navajo world, it was always an inborn quality—inherited mostly. Who in his family had been a bear-shifter? He was unwilling to ask, to trust anyone enough to reveal his own secret. He could only try and control it.

It had taken years for him to recognize he could use it. It was empowering in a strange sort of way to leave the world of humans and become one with nature, where the scents and sights were so different. Now he used it when he needed to let off energy, when he couldn’t think through what was happening in his human world.

He ran for what might’ve been hours. He had to leave time to get back before light. He wanted to be on the mountain. When he reached the first pines, he sat under them and let their energy flow into him. A rabbit approached and then hopped away when it saw him. He could have killed and eaten it, but he’d never developed a taste for raw meat—even as a bear. 

Bats flew overhead, in the distance he heard an owl. Night creatures, as was he at least for the moment. Was he also evil as his mother’s people would claim? He couldn’t ask his mother. She’d died when he was only thirteen. He knew  Grandmother Ali having spent summers helping her with her sheep, learning Navajo ways.

During the school year, he’d lived with his father’s mother in Tucson—where he’d met the love of his life. Something he had eventually run from until he no longer could run and had to return.

He hadn’t expected her to greet him with open arms. She didn’t understand what had motivated him to leave. He had been unable to tell her then or maybe ever. How could she understand what he didn't.

In 1993, we had made our third trip to Montana. In a gallery, I saw this painting, met the artist, Larry Knutson, and photographed a couple of his paintings. I'd have loved to have afforded the work, but the budget wasn't stretching that far.

When I knew I was going to have a bear-shifter in my next book, I tried to find where I had the photograph. At that point, I didn't even remember the year. I went through many albums and finally there it was. I believe it says something about this idea of shifting into another shape-- even if in a fantasy way. 

In looking online to see what he might be doing, this is the only site that had his work-- Art at the Park. There was a quote by him that I liked.

"we all have an animal spirit that we associate with in some way... It should not be kept outside of ourselves."