I wrote something

The Princess’s fury crackled in the air, her magic surging like a living storm. Shadows twisted unnaturally along the stone walls, bending to her will. He saw the power gathering at her fingertips, wild and untamed, a force that could unmake the world if she lost control.

Airianna’s fist shot toward his face, a blow driven by rage and resentment, but he was faster. He caught her wrist, his grip firm, unwavering. "Do not test me, Princess," he warned, voice low, dangerous.

"Test you?" she spat, eyes ablaze. "You think you understand my burden? My power? You know nothing!"

"I know more than you want to admit," he countered, tightening his hold just enough to make her feel the strength in his fingers. "I know the prophecy. I know what you are meant to become. And I know you are afraid."

She snarled, twisting against him, but he didn’t release her. "And what do you know of fear, Kallen? You, who have only ever taken? Who have only ever controlled? You will not control me!"

The wind howled through the tower, the storm outside raging in harmony with the tempest within her. Lightning flashed, illuminating her face—flushed, furious, defiant.

His jaw tightened. "Fear? I know the fear of standing before something greater than myself. I know the fear of holding power that could shatter me. And I know the fear of being the one chosen to break you… or to save you."

He reached into his pocket, pulling free the carved phoenix and pressing it into her trembling hand. "This is what I know. Destruction and rebirth. You must learn to rise from your own ashes, or you will burn yourself alive."

Her breath hitched, fingers closing around the carving. A flicker of hesitation crossed her features, but it was swallowed by fresh anger. "You think you can save me?"

"No." His voice was softer now, almost regretful. "Only you can do that. But I can make sure you don’t destroy yourself before you have the chance."

She exhaled sharply, her rage twisting into something raw, something darker. "You are insufferable. A brute. And if the prophecy binds me to you, then perhaps it is my undoing."

He stepped closer, their bodies nearly flush. "Or your salvation."

Her nails dug into his arm, and for a single, breathless moment, he saw the war in her eyes—the fear, the longing, the fury. Then she surged forward, and he met her halfway.

The kiss was forceful, commanding, his lips crushing against hers, but she didn’t yield. She fought him, nails raking against his chest, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling and pushing all at once. He growled into her mouth, reaching up and gripping a fistful of her long midnight hair, wrenching her head back to expose the pale column of her throat. Her pulse thundered against his grip, the frantic beat betraying her.

His lips grazed her skin, his teeth ghosting along her throat as she trembled. "You think I want to control you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "I want to consume you. I want you to feel what it’s like to have no choice but to burn with me."

Her magic lashed at him, licking his skin like a storm-charged wind, but he countered with sheer force, slamming her back against the cold stone wall. His fingers made quick work of the laces of her gown, yanking at the stubborn corset. The fabric resisted, just as she did, her hands shoving at his chest, fighting against the inevitable.

"Damn this dress," he snarled, frustrated as he struggled with the intricate ties. She smirked, breathless, her fingers curling into his waistband in retaliation, making him stiffen as her palm grazed his hardened length.

His control snapped.

With a growl, he grasped the corset strings and ripped, fabric tearing as her curves spilled free. He barely gave her a moment to gasp before his hands were on her, palming her breasts, thumbs sweeping over hardened peaks. Her breath hitched, her own hands shaking as she finally freed him from his own clothing. When her fingers wrapped around him, testing, exploring, he shuddered, head falling against her shoulder.

"You’re playing with fire," he rasped, voice thick with restraint.

"Then burn me," she whispered, and that was all it took.

His hands slid beneath the remnants of her gown, gripping her thighs as he lifted her effortlessly. She locked her legs around his waist, the heat of her bare skin branding him as he pressed into her, a slow, unrelenting thrust that had her gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

The storm outside reached a crescendo, rain hammering against the tower, thunder shaking the stones beneath them as their bodies moved in a fevered, desperate rhythm. Her magic surged with every thrust, an untamed force that clashed against his strength. He could feel it, crackling against his skin, struggling for dominance even as he held her captive against the wall.

Her body clenched around him, a gasp turning into a cry as he drove deeper, faster, the raw intensity of their collision sparking an almost unbearable friction. He buried his face against her neck, breathing in her scent, feeling her pulse racing beneath his lips.

"Kallen," she moaned, his name slipping from her lips like a plea and a curse all at once.

He drove into her harder, determined to break her, to make her feel nothing but him. The storm outside howled, wind screaming through the broken tower, mirroring the rising chaos between them. And then, as her body tightened, as his own control shattered, the tempest reached its peak. Lightning split the sky, and she cried out, her magic colliding with his very being as they unraveled together.

He held her through it, through the shuddering aftershocks, through the silence that followed the storm. His forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling, their bodies still intertwined.

"Annihilation?" he asked, voice hoarse. "Or creation?"

Airianna stared at him, her mind a whirlwind. The prophecy said he would be my ruin. That his strength would break me. But what if breaking is what I need? What if destruction is the path to rebirth?

He was her opposite, her equal. Her captor, her protector. Her greatest threat… and perhaps her only salvation.

Her fingers curled into his hair, her lips brushing against his once more. "Both."

Outside, the storm finally began to wane, but the tempest within them had only just begun. 

Kallen didn’t hesitate. The delicate fabric of Airianna’s dress shredded beneath his hands, torn apart as if it had never existed. His grip was unforgiving, his strength raw and unrestrained as he pressed her forward, forcing her to brace against the cold stone.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he took her, his body claiming hers with a deliberate, punishing slowness. His fingers tangled in her midnight hair, yanking her head back so she could feel the heat of his breath at her ear.

“Release your power,” he commanded, his voice edged with dark authority. “Let it mingle with mine, and I will protect you forever, fairy princess.”

Electricity crackled through the air as she let go, surrendering to the storm of their magic, letting it coil around them in an intoxicating fusion of light and shadow. He groaned as it surged through him, his body tightening with the force of it, yet his control never wavered. He held her there, helpless beneath him, his grip on her hair unrelenting as he drove into her, deeper, harder.

She gasped, her fingers clawing at the stone as the overwhelming sensation blurred the line between pleasure and power. He was relentless, merciless in the way he took her, his dominance absolute.

Moments later, when their breath evened, she turned, her fingers teasing over his taut abdomen before wrapping around him once more. He half-cursed, half-growled as she stroked him back to life, her touch wicked in its intent.

With a savage motion, he spun her around, pressing her front against the stone once more. His grip tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as his teeth grazed, then bit down on the sensitive curve of her neck.

“You may have the power of the gods,” he murmured darkly against her skin, each word laced with possessive hunger. “But I control you now.”

And as the storm raged outside, it was clear—she might wield magic capable of tearing kingdoms apart, but here, in his grasp, her body belonged to him.

All or nothing at all

There was a time when I thought I wasn't capable of loving again... Or at all... Even for a moment more.

Every time I would sit down to write a love story it turned into the death of a soul... A beautiful, elegant soul.
I felt sorry for the character because all she or he would ever know was that they lost their sweet innocence because of me.  They lost their wonder because I didn't have wonder to give them.  That they lost their joy because I had lost mine.

Then I fell in love again... I believed him.  I believed that this love story was the one that wouldn't end in sadness, carnage, a breaking that was unrecoverable... And, even though he broke me and to be fair, I broke him as well.  For the first time: the remnants of that real true love have followed me.  It has guided me in a way that my characters without souls will find them... Or even in some cases the deeper part of how one can lose the ability to feel love again quickly... With the the loss.

One must understand that some people: they can continue to feel the ability to love even when shattered. And some, like me, they will continue to glue the shattered pieces together hoping that if they are very careful they won't crush the peice they are holding into dust. Praying to a God they dont believe in that they can pull parts of the lost heart from deep down and share it with another... However, more often then not, we come off cold, lost, broken, and unable to communicate the real parts of their souls because the fear is so strong that love is a distant memory. 

For my characters I am sorry.  This time... If I fail at the ability to love properly... I hope you can forgive me and my ability to write a truly heartbreaking tale of love and how it fails you in the most beautiful and real way possible.

Clinically Anxious - Anxious mind of Jacque Maire

So, I have always struggled with my anxiety.  I was diagnosed as "clinically anxious" at the ripe old age of twelve. It was one of the things in my life I've just had to live with... just part of my personality and either I was going to be loved or hated by people.  I was okay with that because I live in a "black and white" world, shades of grey really kind of confuse me.  Not in the: "I don't comprehend how people do what they do" rather the: "I don't get WHY they do what they do and how they can justify their actions without even blinking an eyelash."  I'm all or nothing and an underlying level of uncertainty has always been my anxious twitch. 

To be clinically anxious doesn't mean I am any of the following: crazy,  emotionless, incapable of understanding emotions of any kind, lack of voice of reason due to an overwhelming fear, or over rationalization.  It simply means that my mind goes a million miles a minute, I have about 16 plans for any situation, I like and need my patterns like we need water to drink or food to live.  It means that my way of doing things is what makes sense to me and everything else makes me weary... however, it doesn't mean that I am against trying something new... I just do it with my feet ready to take flight at anytime.  It means that surprises are frightening to me and I don't like them... they aren't part of a plan that I have formed and therefore I don't know how to deal with the first initial moment.  It means that to make changes of any kind in the way I think, live, or function will more than likely cause an internal panic attack that I don't know how to voice and cause me to shrink back into my hermit shell and watch the world go by from the wall.  I have lived my life this way for a very long time and it's word for the most part is a law to me.
 

Mainly my anxiety is under control. I can live and function like everyone else... I am just very uncertain of the world around me.  I am very unsure of people and their actions, even more so their words.  I am almost always left behind because people don't know how do deal with my inability to empathize, moreover understand which feeling is which.  I am unsure of everyone... everything.  I haven't ever really had someone tell me that they were going to stay in my life and mean it.  They thought they meant it at the time... they thought they loved me, all of me... every anxious, OCD, critical hair on my head.  But, whenever things got tough... or Jacque had her up days where; she felt like she could conquer the world, followed immediately by her down days where; she couldn't trust anyone... not even herself.  These are the times when people really decide if they are going to stick in someone with my mental strife's life.  They started questioning everything they thought they knew they loved. They leave. 

I am always upfront with who I am.  I don't hide these things about me... they are part of what makes me fundamentally Jacque.  I call them the Jacque days... These are times when they are challenged by my constant need to be going, talking, understanding, planning... they are pushed to breaking points with me because they don't comprehend how I can go from thought to thought, action to action, place to place and keep track of it all.  They are challenged and they are quick to judge rather than see that this is a constant song playing in my head.  Sometimes I cry and I don't know why... it can be number of things for me but mainly, it's that I have become so inside my head that I have unwittingly alienated myself from the world and then realize that even I need human interaction from time to time.   However; by the time I have realized this I have become starved and needy.  With all of these things said... I still have been known to put my whole self out for a certain select few people and I have been let down over and over again.  I have to say that it is very hard for me to do this without the fear of being left behind yet again.  That is way I keep my circle of people very small... the people I have in my life are very important to me because outside of my family they have never left me.

I would like to point out a few things about my condition. 
1) To have anxiety does not mean in anyway parenthood can't be achieved.  There are methods and ways that you can learn to keep your anxiety under control.  It's not impossible.
2) Friendships are more often than not short lived and not without consequences that leave an anxious person in their heads searching for ways they can remedy the loss.  THIS is where I find myself.  I have lost so much in my life, relationships even acquaintances that could have been really great friends if they had just taken the time to see past my infinite circle of worry, uncertainty, and realization that there is only person capable of seeing your flaws for actual beauty ... you.
3) Anxiousness actually helps with my writing.  It makes me see the stories about people they don't know they have.

As I sit and analyze my anxiety I noticed that things that people don't understand about me... are what make me like my short stories, poems, essays, even my novel.  My whole life I have always loved books... I pretty much always had my nose stuck in one and when it wasn't, I sure as hell wanted it to be. My books gave me perspective on the world at a very young age... the perspective was this: No one was without several short stories that make up their lives, some of them they knew and some of they had no idea were being made.  I loved looking at people from my corner and watch.  It made me feel safe to know that while I was quiet as a mouse no one saw me and I could see them... the stories started at a young age.

So suffice to say after all of that...
I don't feel my anxiety of the world is a burden for me... it's a story... you are all stories in my head, my eyes, and my heart.

Why am I so afraid?

There is something strangely humbling about knowing satisfying your urges sometimes just aren't possible all of time.  That could be any urge; the need for chocolate, to write an epic novel that will make you millions, sex, a career you can be proud of.  With me, it seems to be that lately writing is touch and go.  It's an urge I just can't seem to fulfill.  It's that insatiable itch I can't scratch.  A lot of times I sit down to write and there I am.... Pen poised to paper and.... Nothing.  Witch is beyond frustrating when you had verbiage not more than twenty minutes beforehand.  Or, here is one.  When your world is perfect so nothing comes out.   I can sit and make a thousand more excuses but, the truth of the matter is this:  I've lost it.  

I wish I wasn't so capable of just stopping the things I start. Well, with my passions at least.  If it's the normal everyday, life as I know it.  I can keep going.  I want to say that I am a workaholic and it's true I am.  Also, James is right, I am afraid of success.  I'm downright fearful that this book will be great and I'll see a wonderful turn out and then find... The next one will be terrible.  

I love to write.  It's like music.  I need it to function.... Yet, here I am sitting here blogging about my fear while the characters are just wondering around in my head begging to come to life even more than they already have.  

When I am not writing, not only am I letting myself down, I am letting my characters down as well.  Without me they will never know what it's like to be seen from the eyes of another.  Their world will never be fantasized about.  Their stories will never be told.  

I am being selfish with this fear.  What do I have to lose by writing a novel? Oh nothing but the last of my dignity of i fail.  What do I have to gain?  A better life for my family.  A family that I worship and completely adore.  

I wish I could say,  I'll sit down and write everyday.  Maybe I will.  What I can say is, I think it's time for me to stop being afraid and start doing my job.  

The Last Time I Was Here

The last time I was here I was telling you that my friends in my head were talking to me again.  It's true they are.  However, I have let life get the best of me and I forgot my passion once again.  Don't get me wrong, being a mom is the most fulfilling thing that I could have ever asked for!!!  I love teaching him how to do things and right from wrong.  Yet, it's not the completetion I need in my life. I need to be writing the stories in my head. Mostly for me, but also for my son.  For him to see that mommy did what she was meant to do in life.

I have said several times that I fear that I am not good enough.  How will I know I am not good enough until I finish what I start.  I have not finished what I have started with these novels ever.  A lot of time I wonder if I am good enough and then deem myself not and go about my life.  Then I get reminders that I may have a good story and that I should keep going.

My boyfriend is my biggest fan and lately he has lost his faith that this story will ever be finished. Today that made me beyond sad to know that I was letting him down.  I wasn't fulfilling my passions. I wasn't sharing with the world what I could do. It actually hit me to my core.  With that being said there are three people that I don't want to hurt anymore.  My son, My boyfriend, and Myself.

Below is something I wrote that will be placed in the story.  I just wanted to share with you where my head is at...

Sometimes the world seems too simple.  Time moves slowly and everything makes sense.  Other times, you’re left wondering if you’ve made the right choices.  If your heart is capable of one more heart break.  One more wave of unexplainable tears. 

You sit in your corner and watch the world just pass you by.  Ever changing.  Ever listening.  Ever watching.  The people you love becoming faded memories in your once perfect dreams.  You think about all the tears you shed for the lost lives of your world.  You think of all the sadness you feel for the Tom, Sevens, and Marys you will never get to know. 

You think of these people, your friends and your family, and you weep for them.  You weep for the time you will never get back.  The joys you will never experience.  The friendships you never got to see grow.  While you’re thinking of them, you remember that these people were never really your friends.  They were servants meant only to do your bidding.  That you never really knew them at all.  Still you weep for them.  Still you feel their pain as they die.  One by one.  Fading into the darkness, into the abyss you longed for but have never known.

I am you.  I look at you in the mirror and I see the weight of the world just resting on your shoulders.  A weight you didn’t know you had borne until just recently.  You carried it so strong.  So noble.  As gracefully as you were always taught to do.  I am you.  You are me.  In our body we have grown so strong, wrought with a power that could crush this world in just one thought, with just one motion.  A blink of an eye if you will.  You are always so strong, yet these days you feel so weak.  You feel so lost.  So very much alone.  You love your world, your people, the one or two friends you may have.  Yet, you know it’s all for not.  It’s forever going to be your burden to save them from that tyrant of a man. 

As I look at you, you look so sad.  So lost behind your tears and your fake smile.  A smile that used to light up a room but now just sits on your face, frozen in that way that makes it look real but, you know that if your move your lips in just the right way it will crack and you will break.  You of the strong will and mind, are so fragile.  I look at you in the mirror and I see a girl I do not know.  I see a woman surviving with a strength she didn’t know she had.  I see… a faded shadow of your mother. 

I have cried so much in these last couple of days.  I have cried for the greatest loss my heart has ever known.  I have cried for a people that I will never talk to or cherish in a way that I should.  I have cried for being weak.  For knowing that if I stay here I will never be a parent.  I will never laugh with my child, because my father will kill it before it even takes its first tiny breathe.  I will never know the things that I should that would make me a great queen, because my father doesn’t want a great queen.  He wants a broken soul.  A lost shadow that blends and longs to fade into the world.  Why does he want these things?  Because, then his precious fate ridden prophecy will not come to be. 

As I continue to stare at you, I realize that you are the wielder of your own destiny.  You can control no one, save yourself.  Save yourself.  It’s so simple now that I see it.  What I wouldn’t long to give to do just that one thing.  To save myself would be quite the feat indeed.  Don’t you want to know what it’s like to feel the sand beneath your feet, the wind in your hair without restriction, the sun shining on your pale, pale skin?  I nod to you in the mirror.  Yes, yes I would like to know these things, feel these things.  Yes I would like to be free of these burdens, these chains that tie me down.  These restrictions to my heart, my power, and to my mind.  I would like to know what it’s like to walk freely down a street and know there is not a single creature behind me that is there to take me home.

Home.  One says it like it’s a good thing.  We know that is not the case at all.  We know this because our home is riddled with pain and sorrow, with jealousy and blind hatred.  This may not be the world’s home, but this is your home.  I look at myself and realize that the only savior I have is me.  “It’s you” I say to myself.  “You go out into the world and make your own home.  You don’t need magic to survive.  All you will ever need is you.”

I wipe away the tears from my cheek.  I am right.  I must leave this world before it eats me alive and leaves me every which way but whole.  I must leave while I have the chance.  All I need to do is walk out those castle doors and into my destiny.  Not the one deemed for me by the fates; but the one I will create for myself.  I don’t need these walls to hold me.  All I need is my own beating heart.  All I will ever need is me. 

I wish my mother were there to see how I have grown.  I wish she were here to see me walk out those doors never to return.  Oh the things she would say.  The looks she would have.  The warm, gentle smile she would give as she helped me with my bags.  I wish my mother knew all the things I have learned from just wishing she were here.  I wish she could see the way I would weep for our people, and love my father even after he had completely lost his mind.  I wish she could know, it’s because of her… I have held my power at all.

Sometimes you look at your life and wonder what it was all for.  You think that you have 

everything figured out.  You think that you have fought your battles and that every battle will be the one getting you closer to your goals, your dreams, and your destiny.  In reality is that the case?  I’ve spent many years loving my people, my family, and my world and not getting one step close to whatever my density was or is or will be.  The reason being is that I haven’t ever been given the time to breathe, to just stop and smell whatever flower comes into my view.

You spend your whole life trying to be something you are not.  I have learned that crying is bad, loving is worse, and strength is all you need to survive.  In my world you had one task at hand in your everyday life.  You survived court while living under a tyrants rule, waiting for your world to come crashing down. 

I have never been in love.  I have never felt the hand of another in a gentle and loving manner.  I have always wondered what my life would be like if I wasn’t a princess.  I have always wondered if I hadn’t been born to Adroziel, would I still be a fairy?  Would I still have power?  I have spent countless nights just sitting in my chambers dreading my day, willing my power down, begging my heart to feel something other than sadness and loneliness.  My only friend was and is my childhood companion and handmaiden.  Even my sister refused to be my friend.  Why was it that she hated me so much? 

I didn’t know the answer to this question, I didn’t know any of the answers to many of my questions.  It was like I was here waiting for my world to come crashing down and I knew that it had already fallen. 

Sitting here in my room, I knew two things:  the first being that it was time to make a change in my life.  My people would live without me.  My father would live without me.  My sister would live without me.  I needed to leave.  The second: I had to follow my heart.  My heart said leave, run quickly and as fast as you can.  So I packed my bags, and hardened my heart even more.   So here I sit, waiting for the world to end.

I wasn’t sure when this would happen. My leaving.  I just knew that I packed my life away.  At this moment, I missed my mother.  She made life make sense.  She was always so cool, calm, and collected.  My mother, was the most wonderful Fae to grace our lands.

The characters... are not speaking to me

When the characters in my novels don't speak to me I feel so lost.
It's like losing a part of you and looking for a way to bring it back.

When I am sad they leave, they don't want to sit in an unimaginative brain.
Or maybe they don't want to sit and listen to me argue with myself in a constant tug of war with my thoughts.  I am always fighting with thinking too much.   Maybe they don't want to talk to me because I am always fighting them... with excuses not to write.

"I can't write today, I have too much to do"... cop out I hear them say.  If you wanted to write about us, you would just do it.

"Life is just getting in the way"... screw you.  Life isn't getting in the way, you are getting in your own way.

"Iv'e gone months without writing before, everything will be fine"... you're a liar... you live for the spoken word and here you are refusing us to be heard.

Then they leave, they are gone as quickly as they were there.  I don't realize how much I miss them until I can't hear what they have to say.  Particular scenes go unwritten for months.  Character sheets are incomplete.  Beginnings, middles, and ends are not completed.  All because I refuse to listen to the voices in my head.

With that said... how do I get them to come back?  How do I get them to understand that I am not trying to neglect them?  How do I get them to understand that I love them and I miss them terribly?

Voices in my head come back! I want to write your story now!

Excerpt:

Lately, I haven't had the will to write.  I have been told I was a good writer.  But, you know what they say... you are your own worst critic.  I have two very important people in my life... they tell me to keep going,  So, the other day I had the urge to write a scene.  Here it is:

Sometimes the world seems too simple.  Time moves slowly and everything makes sense.  Other times, you’re left wondering if you’ve made the right choices.  If your heart is capable of one more heart break.  One more wave of unexplainable tears. 

You sit in your corner and watch the world just pass you by.  Ever changing.  Ever listening.  Ever watching.  The people you love becoming faded memories in your once perfect dreams.  You think about all the tears you shed for the lost lives of your world.  You think of all the sadness you feel for the Tom, Sevens, and Marys you will never get to know. 

You think of these people, your friends and your family, and you weep for them.  You weep for the time you will never get back.  The joys you will never experience.  The friendships you never got to see grow.  While you’re thinking of them, you remember that these people were never really your friends.  They were servants meant only to do your bidding.  That you never really knew them at all.  Still you weep for them.  Still you feel their pain as they die.  One by one.  Fading into the darkness, into the abyss you longed for but have never known.

I am you.  I look at you in the mirror and I see the weight of the world just resting on your shoulders.  A weight you didn’t know you had borne until just recently.  You carried it so strong.  So noble.  As gracefully as you were always taught to do.  I am you.  You are me.  In our body we have grown so strong, wrought with a power that could crush this world in just one thought, with just one motion.  A blink of an eye if you will.  You are always so strong, yet these days you feel so weak.  You feel so lost.  So very much alone.  You love your world, your people, the one or two friends you may have.  Yet, you know it’s all for not.  It’s forever going to be your burden to save them from that tyrant of a man. 

As I look at you, you look so sad.  So lost behind your tears and your fake smile.  A smile that used to light up a room but now just sits on your face, frozen in that way that makes it look real but, you know that if your move your lips in just the right way it will crack and you will break.  You of the strong will and mind, are so fragile.  I look at you in the mirror and I see a girl I do not know.  I see a woman surviving with a strength she didn’t know she had.  I see… a faded shadow of your mother. 

I have cried so much in these last couple of days.  I have cried for the greatest loss my heart has ever known.  I have cried for a people that I will never talk to or cherish in a way that I should.  I have cried for being weak.  For knowing that if I stay here I will never be a parent.  I will never laugh with my child, because my father will kill it before it even takes its first tiny breathe.  I will never know the things that I should that would make me a great queen, because my father doesn’t want a great queen.  He wants a broken soul.  A lost shadow that blends and longs to fade into the world.  Why does he want these things?  Because, then his precious fate ridden prophecy will not come to be. 

As I continue to stare at you, I realize that you are the wielder of your own destiny.  You can control no one, save yourself.  Save yourself.  It’s so simple now that I see it.  What I wouldn’t long to give to do just that one thing.  To save myself would be quite the feat indeed.  Don’t you want to know what it’s like to feel the sand beneath your feet, the wind in your hair without restriction, the sun shining on your pale, pale skin?  I nod to you in the mirror.  Yes, yes I would like to know these things, feel these things.  Yes I would like to be free of these burdens, these chains that tie me down.  These restrictions to my heart, my power, and to my mind.  I would like to know what it’s like to walk freely down a street and know there is not a single creature behind me that is there to take me home.

Home.  One says it like it’s a good thing.  We know that is not the case at all.  We know this because our home is riddled with pain and sorrow, with jealousy and blind hatred.  This may not be the world’s home, but this is your home.  I look at myself and realize that the only savior I have is me.  “It’s you” I say to myself.  “You go out into the world and make your own home.  You don’t need magic to survive.  All you will ever need is you.”

I wipe away the tears from my cheek.  I am right.  I must leave this world before it eats me alive and leaves me every which way but whole.  I must leave while I have the chance.  All I need to do is walk out those castle doors and into my destiny.  Not the one deemed for me by the fates; but the one I will create for myself.  I don’t need these walls to hold me.  All I need is my own beating heart.  All I will ever need is me. 

I wish my mother were there to see how I have grown.  I wish she were here to see me walk out those doors never to return.  Oh the things she would say.  The looks she would have.  The warm, gentle smile she would give as she helped me with my bags.  I wish my mother knew all the things I have learned from just wishing she were here.  I wish she could see the way I would weep for our people, and love my father even after he had completely lost his mind.  I wish she could know, it’s because of her… I have held my power at all.

Sometimes you look at your life and wonder what it was all for.  You think that you have everything figured out.  You think that you have fought your battles and that every battle will be the one getting you closer to your goals, your dreams, and your destiny.  In reality is that the case?  I’ve spent many years loving my people, my family, and my world and not getting one step close to whatever my density was or is or will be.  The reason being is that I haven’t ever been given the time to breathe, to just stop and smell whatever flower comes into my view.

You spend your whole life trying to be something you are not.  I have learned that crying is bad, loving is worse, and strength is all you need to survive.  In my world you had one task at hand in your everyday life.  You survived court while living under a tyrants rule, waiting for your world to come crashing down. 

I have never been in love.  I have never felt the hand of another in a gentle and loving manner.  I have always wondered what my life would be like if I wasn’t a princess.  I have always wondered if I hadn’t been born to Adroziel, would I still be a fairy?  Would I still have power?  I have spent countless nights just sitting in my chambers dreading my day, willing my power down, begging my heart to feel something other than sadness and loneliness.  My only friend was and is my childhood companion and handmaiden.  Even my sister refused to be my friend.  Why was it that she hated me so much? 

I didn’t know the answer to this question, I didn’t know any of the answers to many of my questions.  It was like I was here waiting for my world to come crashing down and I knew that it had already fallen. 
I wasn’t sure when this would happen. My leaving.  I just knew that I packed my life away.  At this moment, I missed my mother.  She made life make sense.  She was always so cool, calm, and collected.  My mother, was the most wonderful Fae to grace our lands.

Sitting here in my room, I knew two things:  the first being that it was time to make a change in my life.  My people would live without me.  My father would live without me.  My sister would live without me.  I needed to leave.  The second: I had to follow my heart.  My heart said leave, run quickly and as fast as you can.  So I packed my bags, and hardened my heart even more.   So here I sit, waiting for the world to end.

Jacque Marie Fincher © 2015

Writer's Block

Have you ever just couldn't write?
I have been having this problem a lot lately.
I literally just sat in front of my book and looked at the screen and had nothing to say.

My characters used to speak to me.  They used to whisper in my ear and live in my head.  These days, it feels like they are run away from me.   Why would they do that?  Why would they leave?

Maybe it's because I am stressed out.  Maybe it's because I have lost them. 

I have never been one to say I couldn't write.
Lately I feel as if I am not able to tell their story.

Maybe there isn't a story. 
Maybe I am just imagining that I have something to say.

I feel broken and that they will never return to me.

If any of you have suggestions, please send them my way.
I would love to finish my story... I would love to share with the world my words.
I would love for you all to see my world.  Yet, my world doesn't want to be seen.

First Preview of "The Forsaken King" from Norareen

Hello Everyone!,

Today, I have decided that it's time to share a snippet of my book.  It's a rough draft from one of the chapters of Norareen.  I hope everyone of you enjoy this sneak peek!  Please read and share if you like it!

Happy READING!

The Forsaken King

I stared outside the windows of the throne room; it looked like the whole world would come through them at any moment.  I knew why this was happening.  I knew I had caused it but for the life of me, I didn't know what I was going to do to stop this turmoil.  The leaves on the trees were the normally beautiful shades of vibrant oranges and sunrise yellows that come with this time of year; there were even some holly reds and pine greens to go with the changing of the seasons.  Letting us know that it was a time of grace and change.  Then, the letter reader came into the room.  He held a letter from the humans.

It had been thirty-eight years since the last war.  Thirty-eight years since my daughter privately forsake me and I beat her bloody for standing behind her convictions.  Twenty years after I crowned her princess publically, I feared another war would determine my fate as father, king, and friend. 

The wiry haired boy looked full of fear as he held the letter up.  His voice broke only slightly as he started to read the words: "Dear King Callus, it is with great dismay that we write to you.  The humankind has long feared your people.  We fear that your kind are dangerous and violent.  It is not without sadness that we ask you to leave our world and become the mystery that is a fairy tale.  As it stands only a few humans even believe you real.  It's our worry that you will in fact breed with our kind and taint them with magic.  We do not want magic in our world.  If you do not wish to leave, please know, we will take that as a declaration of war, and act accordingly."

This letter was because of me.  I closed my eyes.  I knew that if I closed my eyes I may dream of my Norareen and she would tell me exactly what I should do.  She always did.  I also knew that if I closed my eyes, I would avoid the terrible gaze of my now furious child.  That's when the winds started to blow, and the rain started to fall.  That's when I started begging for my Norareen to come to me.  Then, I heard the hail and my daughter demand that the letter reader read again. 

He started again, "Dear King Callus, it is with great dismay that we write to you.  The humankind has long feared your people.  We fear..."

His voice faded away as I begged her to come to my mind.  It was silent; the inside of my lids did not bring my love. 

"Father?  Are you seriously ignoring me right now?  Again?"

I opened my eyes.  I took a deep breath and sighed it out. "I am sorry my child.  What is it you are asking me to listen to exactly?"

"By the Fates have you gone senile?  I said that we need to speak to the humans."

"No."

"No?  What is your problem?  They are threatening war again!  I know that if you would just let me leave this stupid fortress I could talk some sense into them.  I could show them that we are not a violent people and that the Fae just want to be left in peace in Adroziel.  Father, please."

"No, they want a fight.  I will not lose you."

The hail started to streak sideways on the window pain.  Airianna turned from me.  While standing the winds howled outside.  Slowly she walked down the stairs.  Once she hit the bottom step to she looked at the wiry haired letter reader.  I watched her gaze soften.  "You are dismissed.  Please leave the letter on a table."  The boy did as he was told.  Once he was gone from the room she turned her gaze to me.  Her eyes weren't quite the grey of her birth, but they were close. 

"Father, I am going to give you time to think.  I am going to walk away before I lose my temper completely.  Know this, you do not have much longer, before you lose me, and with me all of your people.  They follow the love, not the hatred."  With that she turned and walked out the large throne room doors they slammed behind her.

I let go of the breath I didn't even know I was holding and felt the tears streaking down my face.  My raven haired child is losing her precious control today, and I am losing faith in my faith. 

Then, when I felt lost, I felt my darling wife come to me.  "Why do you cry this day my love?"

"I have done something horrible Norareen.  I fear what I have done will break our world apart."

"There is nothing you could have done that could be that bad Callus... unless you brought the wrath of our weather changing child.  Did you do that?"

"Yes, I refused to stand by her side, and follow her wishes."

"And, her wishes were what my love?"

"She longed to see the humans; she wanted to speak to them about not bringing a war.  She said that if we brought the war, then we were no better than them.  Airianna wanted to bring peace talks.  I wanted the blood bath."

"Why would you want that?  You were once such a peaceful man."

"I was, until a prophecy was brought into this world during my reign."

"Do you remember why I faded Callus?"

"You were tired of this world."

"No, I was tired of you.  Your wrath, your violence to our once sweet child, your anger over a child that you did not know was yours until you deemed it so.  I was tired of your lust for blood.  I did not choose you for a partner because you were violent.  I chose you because you were kind, gentle, and logical.  In your old age you became something I could not love.  I loved you, but I could not see your cruel heart any longer.  If you do not give our child the ability to choose what she deems best for our people; she will leave and our kind will follow her.  Those that do not, will fade because they fear your rage.  Airianna will not stand beside what she cannot agree with.  She is after all your child."

"If I let her leave, she will not come home.  If I let her leave, she will marry one of them and she will break our most sacred vow... to stay pure."

"No, that is YOUR most sacred vow... not ADROZIEL'S most sacred anything.  You have not changed my love."

"Please do not leave! Please, please..." I started to sob, without my love I really was nothing.

"Come home to the ever after Callus, she will not let our kind fall if you just fade and be here with me.  It is time, and you know I am right about this."

"I cannot." I sounded sad.

"Then I cannot stay." I felt her leave my side then.

I covered my face and sobbed.  I could not stop the tears.  I was afraid that I created a child that would break my world in some way.  I could not go down without a fight.  The doors opened at the end of the room.  It sounded so hallow as they flew to the sides of the archway.  Standing within them was my raven haired crowned princess. 

Airianna was dressed in a simple black suit and a braid hanging down the side of her shoulders, hitting the bottom of her waist.  She wore simple heels and was carrying a purse in her grasp.  She started walking toward the length of the hall.  When she reached the stairs she stopped.  She had that determined look that she held as a mask.  Airianna was set for her words to be heard.  "Father, do you remember when you made me say vows and one of those vows indicated that in time of war I was to fight beside my people?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what I said?"

"You repeated those vows."

"Ever since that day I stood by those vows.  Father, I love my people.  I need my people.  I have held my powers; I have held my tongue since the last war.  But this time, I will NOT sit and wait for you to kill us all.  They have created weapons that can kill our kind. They have created poisons that will KILL us.  You want the blood bath, I want the peace.  If you do not let me leave and talk to the world leaders, I will forsake you and do it any way.  I firmly believe that if we prove that we are not a threat that we will NOT have to become a child's story like the vampires did, or the werewolves.  Father, I will not fade, and I will not fight with you. I will do what is the best for our people.  You can beat me later, you can even kill me if you wish.  But, I will not sit here and let them kill us all, just because they feared something they did not understand."

"You are not queen yet."

"Then, maybe you should fade already and let me rule my people into the next century."  She was cold and calculated in her words. 

I raised my hand to strike her like I had done before. Instead I said "Airianna, I do not trust them."

"Father, you do not trust me.  Even though, I have ruled by your side for the past thirty-eight years.  I have been your queen, your confidant, your daughter, your right hand if you will; yet, you do not trust me.  You make me sad.  I am going to do what is best for my people." She turned on her heel and walked back down carpet to the doors.

"Airianna, you will bring the fall of our people.  It has been foretold.  Please, do not do this."

"Foretold?  By whom?"

I sighed, "By the prophecy written in the books of Adroziel."

"So, because you fear a prophecy, you won't let me leave to save our people?  Don't you think that's a little childish?  In fact don't you think that's a lot insane?"  She hunched her proud shoulders as she turned to look at me.  She refused to step closer to me, I could see it was everything in her power not to just leave. 

"Hear me out... please."

She bowed her head, "You have my attention."

"I discovered the prophecy the day you were born.  I was cataloguing your birth.  I am one to follow tradition, so per tradition I searched the prophecy book for a raven haired child.  I saw it.  It stated: The child will be born a girl,  have raven hair, skin as white as porcelain, and eyes so blue they could be confused as the grey in the storm clouds forming on the eve of her birth.  These eyes will be wise beyond their years.  This child will bring the fall of Adroziel and the reign of tyranny that was before her.  She will not be evil, or cruel, she will be strong.  She will run from her home.  This child will bring the child of the world's collide.  Nevermore after her birth will the lands be the same.  That is you my child."

"So, you have kept me a prisoner because you fear what?  That I will bring the reign of tyranny before me crashing down?  Fates forbid that not be a positive thing.   Do you remember the war between the humans thirty-eight years ago?  Do you remember how I begged you to stop them and save your people?  Do you remember me forsaking you?  Have you completely lost your mind?  Father, I may be that child.  However, I heard nothing that you should fear in that prophecy."

"You will cause the World's to Collide... if you leave our world will fall.  Adroziel will fade like your mother faded.... Please don't leave.  Stay and help me protect our people."

"I don't know if I can stand by while you destroy our people.  Mother, was the one who should have been standing where I stood.  Mother faded because of a prophecy that you let rule your life.  Father, I cannot sit and do nothing. " She continued to walk to the doors.  "This will forever be the day that I forsake you; this is the day I deny you for our people.  You are wrong, and I am going to prove it."

"You are forsaking me?  You are defying me?" my rage bubbled to the surface.  "I have tried to be kind, but I cannot let you go." I lifted my hand to stop her with magic but, she dispelled my power without even glancing back.  How could this be?  I had no idea her power had grown at all.  I did everything I could to make sure she never reached full power.  Yet, she treated my power as if I was a fire in a rain storm, never letting the fire truly burn.  Every time I would push mine at her she would throw it back at me, instead of it being hot like mine it was freezing.  

She stopped at the door and turned; when she got all the way around and faced me I felt her power... all of it.  She pushed her power at me through the rain in the sky, the hail pelting the windows, and the wind blowing in the room.  I heard the thunder and felt the lighting strike next to my chair.  I was thrown back into the seat.  I had never felt strength like this in another fairy ever.  The wind grew louder and the lightning became more frequent.  As the level rose her eyes changed to the grey of her infancy. 

She spoke in a clear strong husky voice "Father, over time I have suppressed my powers so I would not overshadow my king.  But, as you can see; this is merely a fraction of what I can actually do.  You are not ever to lay an ember of magic or a hand on me.  You will not rule me, because I am stronger than you, and every day I gain more power.  I am the rightful heir to the throne, I am the rightful queen!  You are the pawn in the royal seat, but you are not the end all to be all.  Adroziel law states that: if an heir apparent grows more powerful than the reigning ruler... the apparent is the rightful King or Queen.  You will not stop me, I will save our people.  I WILL NOT FADE BECAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A GOOD KING.  I will not fear you because you fear a prophecy.   You should be bowing to me.  However, I will not stoop so low.  Goodbye father.  I will return victorious" She turned one her heel and the power faded just as quickly it had come.  I continued to watch her as she faded around the halls.  I did not even know she could change and just disappear into the shadows, yet she possessed that power as well it seemed. 

She had forsaken me out loud, and she would win in a battle.  I was lost.  Norareen was right; I turned into a monster and blamed it on my child.  Or, at least that's what I thought today as my daughter set out to stop an impending war.

©2015 Jacque Marie Fincher

Word Vomit

A lot of times when I sit down to write, I have nothing to say until about twenty minutes in, and then it all comes out in a flood.  A flood of thought, a wave of emotions, or a tsunami of images.  Sometimes the thoughts don't make sense to anyone but me.  Not until I create a clear picture with the images and a feeling with the emotions.  It may seem that I write erratically and without purpose but, when when has anyone done anything with complete purpose?   

My hope is that people are like me in a way and write with 80 percent with purpose and the other 10 percent without.

I would like to know if other writers have these waves of word vomit or if I am alone in this world.  More than likely, I am not the only one.  

I have been so set on writing that I get stressed out about writing and tend to not finish my writing.  Even with a daily word goal I find myself stressing out.  If I don't word vomit, I will never word vomit, and then the current word vomit will just just sit in the binder collecting dust for another two years before I even think of it again.

However, with the support system I have that may not be true.

A dear friend of mine told me once that I was afraid of success.  Thinking about it now, that may be true.  May... I don't like to admit I am wrong... When clearly I am never wrong (said no woman ever).

No one likes to admit their faults... Not one likes to know that they may have an irrational fear of the unknown.  My fears apparently are clowns, spiders, and success.  If those aren't extremes I really don't know what is.

As I sit down to write this I see that my fears while valid are stupid... Except clowns (those guys will kill you...).  I have yet to meet someone else afraid of success yet, I know they exist.  If this were back in the day and I were an Irish dancer still, then I would have no fear.  I feared nothing when I was flying to the air as the Irish music played in the background.  But, this is not dancing, nor is it music related.  This is about my words, my story, my hidden dream coming to life.  What if they come to life and they aren't good enough?  What if not one single person reads my story? 

I have searched for things I have failed at.  I have gone deep into my vault of things that I have done and can say I don't believe I have failed.  Not at anything I have done.  I believe if you don't try you are failing... But, if you have tried and gone as far as you can go with what you have done then you in no way failed.

However, I find myself asking the question: "What if I fail?"  Since I have never failed... I don't really want to know if I want to know that answer.

So, I'll sit down everyday and word vomit, and word vomit... Until my story is written and people read my words... Until I have completed the task and feel as if all I have done was perfect.

© 2015 Jacque Marie Fincher 

The Evolution of a Story

It started out as a story.
A quick short story.
That short story turned in to 3 chapters.
Those three chapters turned into another short story.
That second short story turned into another novel.
That second novel has turned into a series...
that series has become a franchise!  Or, so I hope it becomes one.

 There are new characters, there are new kingdoms, there are wars, and battles that aren't wars per say, oooh and a love story.  There is even the age old fight between good and evil, right and wrong, light and dark.  It's becoming everything I have ever read, everything I have always dreamed of being apart.  Who would have thought that I had all of these things running around in my head.

As a child I read to escape reality.  My world started with green eggs and ham.  Soon it moved to Jo in "Little Women", and before long I was completely immersed in the story of Del and Tigar in "The Sword Dancer" series.   It was then... with Tiger and Del that I made the jump in my mind to live in a world of everything supernatural and un real.  For some reason it kept me grounded when I didn't have anything to hold on to.

Now, it's not just a dream.  It's a reality.  I feel like my world will soon be your world!
I am excited to share with you my world and all it's characters!

© 2014 Jacque Marie Fincher

Writing

Sometimes when I sit down to write, I have nothing to say.
Rather, I don't think that my characters have anything to say to me.

I am not sure if it's that they have nothing to say to me, or if I am just not letting them in.

With they way that my life has been going lately, I am finding that even though I know that there is something to be said... it is taking me forever to get anything on paper.

I wonder why that is exactly?  I am normally the type of person who doesn't shut up.  Well, I am capable of the shutting up, I have been known to shut up, I have even been so silent people have forgotten I was in the same room.  This trait is something that comes in handy when you are people watching.

With me the characters speak to me, and sometimes it's as if they are right next to me.  This isn't to say that I see them and have full conversations with them.  If I did that, I think I would be admitted instantly to a ward for the mentally insane.  However, when I people watch I hear my characters talking.  I see them interacting and working with the real world to mingle with theirs.  It's funny how I see both worlds at the same time.

The funny part for me is that I have been unwittingly writing two novels in one.
Now, as I am working to break the novels apart more and more of the story is unfolding in my brain. The sad part is sometimes I get stuck on how I want to say it.  Thus, leaving me at a stand still with my work.  A stand still that tonight is driving me crazy.

I sat down to write a section tonight and nothing is coming.  A good friend of mine said not to push it.  So I won't.  Not tonight.  Maybe tomorrow.

Goodnight all! and Merry Christmas!

©Jacque Marie Fincher

Goals

As a writer you tend to write and sometimes not have a goal in mind.
The characters speak to you all the time... and essentially you are just writing what is going on in your head... and to anyone who isn't a writer... well, you could look crazy.

You could look crazy... that is if you actually start to respond to the characters....  I've done this.  I am proud of myself for admitting this bit of information.

Going back to goals... I didn't have any.  I just wanted to write what was in my head.   If anyone read my words well that was awesome!  If they liked the story that was heaven.  I didn't expect much to come from this.

However, now I do.  I keep hearing how the storyline is good, and that the characters are great!
Why not give yourself a goal?  So, I will be a published author.

Maybe instead of my writing meeting a handful of eyes... it could reach to the world?
My blog does.  I check the statistics... it's reached other countries...

So, I pose this to the readers of my blog... read the excerpts of my story... and give your honest feedback.  I'll be starting a new section of this blog.
Once a week... there will be a small section for you to read and comment on.  Keep in mind that it's constructive criticism and it should help the construction of my characters and storyline.
New excerpts will be placed on this blog every Thursday afternoon or evenings.

Thank you all for reading!
And here's to new goals!