YEAH, BUT WOULD YA DATE ME?


(Match.com for your main character)
Your manuscript is complete.  You’ve got a killer plot.  Your pacing is fabulous.  The dialogue is pithy, yet realistic, the setting great, and the story is a completely imaginative idea.  But your MC’s voice sucks. 

That means you’re out of the game. 

“I’m much more likely to keep reading if I know from that perfectly-executed first page that this character is someone who interests me, someone whose story I’d like to get lost in.”
– Holly Root, Waxman Literary

“We must admit a fondness for novels with memorable characters and a unique voice.”
– Josh Adams, Adams Literary

“What I look for is a strong voice that immediately sweeps me away, a strong sense of character.”
– Danielle Chiotti, Upstart Crow

Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ve heard/read it a million times.  They wanna fall in love with your main character.  If they don’t, your in-box will have more rejections than Viagra ads. 

So, how do you find out if your MC is boring as cardboard, or someone the whole world would want to date?  More importantly, if your MC’s voice isn’t quite right, how do you fix it? 

You come to the party! 

The first and third Wednesday of every month, Tammy and Fiona are throwing a MC speed dating party.  First Wednesday on Tammy’s blog (http://tcmckeewriter.blogspot.com/), third Wednesday on Fiona’s blog (http://agelessdruids.blogspot.com/).  You send us the first chapter of your ms (no more than 2000 words), and we’ll post it here for comments specifically directed toward your MC’s voice.  Is it believable? Engaging? Provocative?  If not, why?  What will you have to change to make your MC someone we all want to date (or at least read more about)? 

Starting today, we’re accepting submissions of up to 2000 words.  We’ll post the first submission next Wednesday, July 18th for helpful comments.  So send us something.  Hurry!  Who knows?  We might even help you meet your dream agent/date. 

Submissions to:   eponamacroi at yahoo dot ie  AND  tmckee34 at gmail dot com

THE LEGEND THAT IS IRELAND


For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad.
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad. 
            -- G.K.Chesterton
To celebrate our National Holiday tomorrow, I’m offering this post on the myth, legend and history of the origin of Ireland, as covered in the famous Book of Invasions.  
The Book of Invasions, written by a Christian monk on the 12th Century, is a long historical and mythical account of the origin of Irish people.  It jumps around a bit because there are actually 10 books within this ‘Book’.  It starts with the Gaels and then returns to them near the end.  The Book of Invasions consists of stories that had been in existence for over a thousand years before they were ever written down.  In these stories, there are giants, sorcerers, epic wars, supernatural people, gods, magic spells, and quite a few facts.  That’s because Bards/Druids kept these stories alive by memorizing them and retelling them over and over again.  Druids believed knowledge was too sacred to be written down, so they kept it in their heads and, consequently, had amazing powers of memorization. 

So sit back with a pint of Guinness and read of the story of Ireland  . . .
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived the Gaels, descendants of a Scythian prince.  It is written in the Book of Invasions that Scota, daughter of a Pharaoh of Egypt, created the Irish language.  The Gaels lived in Egypt at the time of Moses, and then they wandered the world for 440 years before eventually settling in the Iberian Peninsula.  It is here, in northwest Spain, somewhere around 100 B.C.E., that a man named Íth climbed a tower and glimpsed Ireland, in the extreme distance.  After that, he was determined to reach this ‘distant emerald island’. 
Now the Book travels back further in time, to approximately 2400 B.C.E.  Noah (the guy who built the ark) told his granddaughter Cessair to flee to the western edge of the world because a great Flood was coming. (It seems absolutely hilarious to me that anyone would come to IRELAND, possibly the wettest country on the planet, to get away from a FLOOD.)  Cessair, her dad Bith, and quite a few others set out in three ships.  By the time they arrived in Ireland, two of the ships had been lost at sea. The only survivors were 50 women (including Cessair) and 3 men (Cessair's husband Fintán, her father Bith, and the ship’s captain, Ladra). The 50 women were divided among the men.  (If I were Cessair, I’d be totally pissed).  When the Flood came, Fintán was the only one to survive because he spent a year under the waters in a cave called ‘Fintán's Grave’.  He became known as ‘The White Ancient’ because he lived for 5500 years after the Great Flood and witnessed the later settlements of the island in the guises of a salmon, an eagle and a hawk.  Okay, this is the legend part (duh), but remember, all legend has at least a grain of truth.  Just because we don’t know how a man could live for over 5000 years and morph into a fish, doesn’t mean it can’t happen.   

Three hundred years after the Flood, Partholón, another descendant of Noah, settled in Ireland with his three sons and all their people. They were somewhat like gods of chaos and nature.  After ten years of peace, war broke out with the Fomorians, a race of cranky pirates.  The Partholonians were victorious, but their victory was short-lived.  In a single week, they were wiped out by a plague — five thousand men and four thousand women — and were buried on the Plain of Elta to the southwest of Dublin, in an area that is still called Tallaght, which means ‘plague grave’.  A single man named Tuan, survived the plague.   Like Fintán before him, Tuan survived for centuries and went through a succession of metamorphoses, so that he could witness later Irish history and pass these stories down.
Formorians
Thirty years after the extinction of the Partholonians, Ireland was settled by the people of Nemed (Nemedians), whose great-grandfather was a brother of Partholón's. Their occupation reads like one long, continuous war, mostly with the Fomorians, a motley group of weird-looking types.  In one final, epic sea battle, both armies were destroyed.  A flood covered Ireland AGAIN, wiping out most of the Nemedians. A handful of survivors were scattered to the four corners of the world.

One group of Nemedians settled in Greece, where they were enslaved. 230 years later, they escaped Greece and made their way back to Ireland.  Known as the Fir Bolg or ‘Bag Men’, this group probably came to Ireland via a circuitous route through Scotland, as they had many Pictish characteristics.  They, and their King Aengus, held this island for only 37 years, being chased all the way across the country to the far western Aran islands, creating Dún Aengus fort, as their last refuge. 
Dun Aengus Fort
While the Fir Bolg occupied Ireland, the Tuatha Dé Danann, ‘The People of the Goddess Danu’ arrived from ‘the far north’ (possibly Scandinavia).  They were also descendants of Nemed, but, unlike the Fir Bolg, they were said to be beautiful and had learned magic and druidry.  This is the civilization most talked about in legend.  They are the ones who fought the Fir Bolg and chased them to the Aran Islands.  The Danann were god-like individuals who formed a human civilization and ruled for 150 years. 
Now, remember the guy from the beginning - Íth, who climbed the tower in Spain and became obsessed with finding the ‘emerald island’ in the distance?  Well, he hopped on a boat and made it to Ireland, only to be killed when he got here by some jealous old noble.  The Milesians, sons of Íth’s uncle Míl, come to Ireland to avenge his death and conquer the island.  Among this group was Amergin, the famous bard, who would have kept much of this history alive. 
Amergin
When they arrived in Ireland, they advanced to Tara, the royal seat, and demanded the kingship.  On the way they were greeted in turn by three women, Banba, Fodla and Ériu, who were queens of the three co-regents of the land.  Each woman welcomed the Milesians and told them that her name was the name by which the land was known, and asked that it remain so if the Milesians were victorious in battle.  Amergin, the bard, promised that it would be so.  (Ériu won, by the way, and eventually this island’s name got anglicized into Erin.)  At Tara they were greeted by the three kings of the Tuatha Dé Danann, who defended their claim to the joint kingship of the land.  The Milesians were advised to return to their ships and sail out to sea to a distance of nine waves from the shore, so that the Tuatha Dé Danann might have a chance to mobilise their forces.  But when the Milesians were beyond ninth wave, the druids of the Tuatha Dé Danann conjured up a ferocious storm. The Milesian fleet was driven out to sea, but Amergin was able to dispel the wind with his own poetic magic.  In two ensuing battles, the Tuatha Dé Danann were defeated.  They were allowed to stay in Ireland, but only underground.  Consigned to the Underworld or Otherworld, they became known as ‘Aes Sidhe’ or the people of the mound, faeries, nature spirits, and the like. 
The last part of the Book deals with a seemingly endless succession of Ard Rí or High Kings of Ireland, whose lives revolved around cattle raids and wars.  Tra-la.  

And that, in a nutshell, is the epic tale, spanning ten books, of the beginning of what is the Ireland of today.  Now, I wish you a most joyous St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m off to go celebrate by raiding my neighbour’s cattle. 

ANIMAL GUIDES


Many ancient peoples, and druids in particular, believed that Nature – the landscape and the animals that inhabited it - were packed with meaning and messages.  Today, as in long ago times, animals can be spirit guides, bringing us inspiration, direction and assistance.  Sometimes, when you least expect it, Nature brings you a message like a gift . . . 

This past weekend, I wrote.  All weekend.  That’s it.  Two days of writing, writing, writing.  My characters talked to me, I typed what they said.  When I had to stop writing in order to go to the bathroom or eat something or feed the cats, it was really annoying.  It may sound strange to some, but having to do nothing but write was nirvana.  Absolute bliss. 

Late on the second day, my body started to cramp, forcing me to get up and move.  I grudgingly changed out of my I’m-at-home-alone-writing-so-it-doesn’t-matter-what-I-look-like clothes, put on some shoes and walked down to the lake. 

It’s springtime now in Ireland.  The sky was blue for a change and daffodils have popped up everywhere like big yellow smiles.  I took a deep breath and thanked my body for forcing me to get out of the house. 

As soon as I walked out the door, a blackbird sang to me from the pear tree at the far edge of my garden.  It didn’t just sing.  It flew down in front of me and landed close, gazing at me with its yellow-rimmed eye, pointing its bright yellow beak in the air as it cocked its head to study me.  The Irish name for a blackbird is Druid Dhubh (Black Druid).  In druid oracle teachings, the blackbird symbolizes a call from the soul, a possible message from the OtherWorld regarding hidden potential. 
I walked on, past a field of sheep and their new lambs that bounced around on pogo-stick legs.  At a neighbour’s farm, the dogs ran out with friendly barks to greet me and request tummy-rubs.  From the druid perspective, dogs symbolize loyalty and protection, but in the ancient tradition, they were also the Guardian of the Mysteries. 

Hearing the commotion, several cats also came out, hanging back until the dogs had calmed down.  One of the cats chirped at me and jumped up on a rock wall, waiting for me to come pet her.  In the druid view, the message a cat brings is that of detachment – watching, observing and then deciding what to do.  They also remind us to appreciate sensual pleasures.  
Past the farm, as I walked between blackberry hedges, two wild geese flew overhead, calling back and forth to each other.  Geese mate for life and fly extraordinarily high.  To a druid of old, they would have represented partnership and productive power.  They’re also a very territorial bird and, if they had been on the ground, hissing at and chasing me, that could be taken as a reflection of my own possessiveness.  In that case, it might have been a sign not to over-protect. 

When I reached the huge lough, two swans were out some distance, dredging up slimy green stuff to eat.  Long ago, a bard’s ceremonial cloak would have been made from swan skin and feathers.  Because of that, I took heart!  For me, on this day, the swans could easily be a sign that I should carry on telling my story, as a bard must always tell tales.  However, the primary message a swan brings is that of love and the possibility that love may be about to enter one’s life. 
Walking around the curve of the lake, I came to a long, sloping hill where the Connemara ponies (horses) were grazing.  I love to talk to the horses.  They always come running to greet me and cluster close around to sniff me.  The horse is symbolic of travel, either a physical or spiritual journey, usually across land.  Horses also symbolize journeying into the next world or another lifetime (which happens to be what I was writing about). 
When I came back home, it was nearly dark.  I almost stepped on a spotted frog in my back garden.  I squatted down and gently touched its sensitive skin.  It hopped once and then stayed put for a while.  Frogs are a most complicated creature from a druid perspective.  They live half on land and half in water, combining the powers of both elements.  They are associated with rain and water spirits, especially, and therefore with healing and purification.  Frog spawn was considered a cure for inflammatory diseases, including rheumatism.  Long ago, in the British Isles, if you had an eye problem, one possible cure was to find someone willing to lick the eye of a frog and then lick your eye.  Yeah.  Count me out. 
Sometime later, I went back to writing, and was very glad to have taken the break and the long walk.  Most importantly, I was grateful to all the creatures who shared their grace of spirit with me.  I’ve been a vegetarian since college (i.e., a really long time), because of my great love for animals.  On days like this, I wonder if they might feel that love.  I hope they do. 

A SKY-FULL OF EMOTION

Druids of old were, without a doubt, talented ancient astronomers.  They created calendars based on the planets and stars in the night sky and their predictions of planetary movements were startlingly accurate.  You don’t have to take my word for it.  Read Pliny’s accounts.  A couple thousand years ago, if you wanted to know when to plant your cabbage crop (when the moon was in the fertile sign of Pieces, of course) or the best time to undertake a dangerous journey across water, you’d consult your friendly, local druid, who would, in turn, consult the sky. 

Current sky conditions reveal some amazing possibilities . . .
Tonight is the dark of the moon, when great things can happen!  Yesterday, the sun moved in to Pieces, the ultimate water sign and purveyor of emotions.  Tomorrow is Shrove Tuesday, when people all over Ireland will be eating pancakes to celebrate the last day of pleasure before the self-imposed austerity of Lent (according to the Christian calendar).  Tomorrow is also the new Ash Moon, sometimes called, ‘the moon of waters,’ because of its emotional significance.  Not surprisingly, the Ash Tree usually grows near water.  Since our bodies are between 60% and 70% water, we ‘feel’ a lot this moon (month).  And, very soon, we should start feeling the energy of the approaching Grand Earth Trine. 

What do all those things have in common?  Emotions.  Even more important, the strongest emotion of them all:  Love. 

We are at a sort of crossroads, surrounded by Love energy!  But it’s not an escapism-type, woo-woo love.  The approaching Grand Trine involving the earth signs of Taurus, Virgo and Capricorn, will force us to face our emotions and be honest with ourselves.  THEN, falling in love with yourself, with the Earth, with someone else, with all of creation, will be as easy as . . . falling.  Back in the 15th Century, when they were deciding on a date for Valentine’s Day, they would’ve been more accurate to push it forward a week, because the Ash Moon of waters nearly always falls the week after Valentine’s. 
If there were any ancient druids around now, they’d probably be telling us to be open to love and romance.  Tonight, especially, is an excellent time to be still and receptive to the energy of unconditional universal love.  This is a healing energy, a warmth, a connection that unites all living creatures. 

A good meditation to try is to close your eyes and imagine yourself as a river.  You are flowing over hills, into valleys, down cliffs and across rolling land, finally reaching a giant ocean of oneness and bliss. 

If we all do that together tonight, magic will ensue! 

ELF NIGHT


Tomorrow night is the full Rowan Moon, the perfect time for astral travel and projection, as well as divination.  You want to know what’s going to happen in your future?  Meditate tomorrow night!  It is also a night when you may encounter those individuals most adept at astral travel, who can actually assist with divination:  Elementals, Earth spirits and Elves.  So you might want to keep your third eye open. 

The elves I’m referring to are NOT the old Christian-reworked version of elves.  Nor am I referring to the ancient Scandinavian elves (alfar), who were the dead, believed to be still alive in their burial mounds.  There was also a paradise called Alfaheimr (Elf-land) inhabited by bright female spirits who made the sun.  These female spirits could be beautiful or hideous, representing birth or death.  Christianity opposed this ancient female-centered theology and referred to elf-feasts as demonic sabbats with ‘cloven-hooved dancers.’ 

Then, of course, there’s Santa Claus, referred to in the Night Before Christmas, as a ‘right jolly old elf.’  Personally, I find it hard to think of a large, furry man with a weight problem as an ‘elf.’ Likewise, when walking through the forest, I find it difficult to imagine there are Lord of the Rings-type hobbits or gnomes who live deep down in the radon-gas filled, rock-congested Irish soil. 

In Ireland, elves include the ever-popular Leprechaun, the Clurichaun (or night-dwelling Leprechaun), the Grogoch (a hair-covered creature who migrated to Ulster from Scotland), Brownies (who often dwell inside) and Hobgoblins (spirits of the ‘hob’ – a range where food is cooked).  In a forest near my home, there are quite a few caves and large, gaping holes under old trees, where elves are said to live. 
While all of that is interesting to me, it does not encompass my idea of the creature called ‘Elf.’  It seems more accurate to think of elves as elemental energy that we perceive in different forms, depending on our personal experience and beliefs.  Creatures formed by molecules that are somehow less dense than our own.  Beings that, by their very nature, are inclined to feats which we might consider impossible.  

I’d be interested to know your idea of an ‘elf.’  Have you ‘seen’ or experienced them?  Do any of the older versions of ‘elves’ ring true for you?  
If you feel so inclined, I hope you enjoy dancing with the elves tomorrow night, whether you see them or not.  Just acknowledging their presence might enhance your evening and bring a little magic into your life. 

Until next week . . . 
Slán agus Beannaigh
(be safe & blessed)