A TALE OF SUCCESS

Once upon a time, in kingdoms on opposite sides of the globe, two writerly women of mostly-pleasant disposition (with occasional lapses into Mad-Hatterness*) became cyber-friends.  One was named Lady Fiona and wrote foresty-druidy stuff.  The other was named Lady Mary of the House of Waibel, and wrote twisted fairy tales. 

Lady Waibel lived happily with Lord Waibel and their brilliant, hockey-playing son and two cats who were not particularly adept at hockey.  Many was the evening Lady Waibel would remark to Lord Waibel, “Husband, I shall go now to the top-most turret and scribe my tales.”  “Aye, dearest,” Lord Waibel would reply, “And I shall retire to the kitchen to fashion a feast of Hamburger Helper.” 

Then One Day (that would be NOW), Lady Mary’s first tale, Quest of the Hart, was published by MuseItUp Publishing and debuted to much fanfare and critical acclaim.  The lovely cover looked something like this: 

Lady Mary sent her cyber-friend, Lady Fiona, a synopsis of this compelling tale she had written.  It went something like this:  

A reverse Sleeping Beauty tale where the princess goes on the quest to save the prince.

Princess Kaylee has never had to fight for anything. Her entire life has been arranged, even her marriage. But when Prince Devlin falls under an enchantment, she finds she is willing to do anything to save him, even if it means fighting a dragon.

Devlin's own sister, Princess Arabella, is behind the deadly plot. She wants the throne and will use any means necessary to gain it. Her perfect plan unravels, leaving Devlin caught in a magical sleep that is slowly spreading through the kingdom of Breniera. All Arabella needs to finish her spell and claim the crown is a drop of Kaylee's blood, but obtaining the single drop is proving more difficult than expected.

To save her betrothed, Kaylee embarks on a quest to find an ancient sword and gather a drop of dragon's blood, while trying to stay out of Arabella's traps. But Arabella's traps aren't the only danger. Time is everything. For once the last inhabitant of the kingdom falls asleep, the spell will be sealed, and not even true love's kiss will break it. 

Lady Mary then decided she would be kind to all the peasants of the kingdom and offer a FREE copy of her most wonderful twisted fairy story.  If the peasants would but follow this link, they might win the magical book: 

<a id="rc-4773610" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/4773610/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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The last part of this success tale is yet another tale of success.  For, you see, Lady Mary found happiness again.  After toiling tirelessly in her top-most turret, she produced a companion novel entitled Charmed Memories, which would become available from MuseItUp Publishing in August 2013. 

The moral of this tale?  Why, ‘tis that fairy tales come true, of course!  Lady Mary believed in herself, worked on her craft, did good deeds for others and never gave up.  May she be inspiration to us all. 

THE [HAPPY] END

*Mad-Hatterness – the ability to change rapidly without warning, say scary things, ask unanswerable questions and perpetually edit prose.  

PLEASE HELP SAVE IRELAND'S FORESTS

The trees you see on this post are about to be murdered.  These dear, old ‘friends’ are part of Coillte (Irish for forests) and have inspired so much of what I write.  In the grip of the global depression, Ireland is about to sell all of its forests to Chinese and Swiss investment firms.  These firms would be allowed to kill 1.2 million acres of trees in the name of profit.  That would leave us with increased erosion of soil, not to mention contributing to global warming.  And, dear God, all of those murdered trees! 

Please, if you have any heart at all, protest this environmental sabotage.  It only takes a minute to sign the SAVE OUR FORESTS petition on-line.  If you have already signed it, thank you.  Now sign again.  The politicians did not listen to us the last time.  If you are willing it only takes a few more minutes to send an email to politicians.  Anything you can do to let Irish politicians know this is NOT okay, will be greatly appreciated. 

Please sign the petition, ‘Save Ireland's Forests’ here: 

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/2/help-save-irelands-forests/

Here is a link that allows you to send one email to all TDs at once.  Your message can be as simple as, “Please do not sell Irish forests.” 

http://contact.ie/contact-national-politicians 

On behalf of all the beautiful trees, I thank you. 

‘If trees could scream, no one on Earth would sleep peacefully again.’

                                                                        – Jane Evershed

AN IRISH CYBER BLESSING

I'm busy writing (gasp!) and find it extremely challenging to write blog posts when I have two sets of characters in two different time periods caught in life and death situations which I have yet to solve.  It's like watching a movie and reading the foreign language subtitles at the same time.  My brain hurts.  So, fiddle-de-dee, Captain Butler, I'll blog tomorrow (or after that), but for now, blessings to you all: 

May the blog rise up to meet you,

May the wind never blow away your printed pages,

The rain fall far away from your keyboard,

And until we meet again,

May your server always be found

And your virus protection be ever-vigilant.

CHRISTMAS DEPRESSION RX

Christmas is something I do not do.  I am one of the many people who hold sad, old memories of awful Christmases which haunt me at this time of year.  Ultimately, no matter what I do, this becomes a big, nasty, awful, ugly depression-bubble.  That bubble doesn’t burst until after St. Stephen’s Day (December 26^th). 

For years now, I have focused on the Winter Solstice as my holiday.  After all, that marks the time when more sunlight will soon be coming our way (at least, in the Northern Hemisphere), and as a Druid, December 21^st is a traditional seasonal celebration.  But living in Ireland - indeed, in almost any English-speaking country - means that December is the time of year when one is constantly bombarded by Christmas junk.  And for people like me, that’s just . . . depressing.

This year, I’m trying something different to combat the December blues, and just in case you’re like me, maybe this can help you too. 

Most historians (whether they be Christian, Atheist, or anything else) agree that a prophet by the name of Jesus actually existed and was born sometime between 4 and 7 BCE . . . in the AUTUMN.   While there is no written record specifying a day and month of his birth, there is the fact that shepherds would most likely not be ‘abiding in the fields’ in December.  It was too damn cold.  Flocks were usually in the fields between Spring and Autumn.  Also, if you’re pregnant and being conveyed via donkey, winter would likely be a really stupid time to travel the 70 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem.  The more probable time of year would be late September. 

September 29^th was the annual Jewish Feast of Tabernacles, when such travel was commonly undertaken. Also, later Christian tradition commemorated Michaelmas (or ‘Michael sent’), after the arch angel Michael, on September 29^th.  It would be appropriate for Jesus to have been born on the Feast of Tabernacles, since some believe it was at his birth that ‘the Word was made flesh and dwelt (literally tabernacled) among us’. 

So.  December 25^th is three months too late to celebrate Jesus’s birthday.  Wouldn’t it be fun to start a new tradition?  Let’s celebrate ALL prophet’s birthdays!  Yay!  That’s a good idea. 

Let’s see, there’s Abraham, the guy who prophesized circumcision.  Hmm.  Not sure how to celebrate that.  Let’s move on. 

There’s Mohammed.  Yeah.  Not going there either. 

There’s Joseph Smith, Jr., founder of the Latter Day Saint movement, and he even has a convenient birthday - December 23, 1805.  We could celebrate his idea of a Zion-utopia (and maybe skip the bigomy part). 

There was Cassandra, the Greek mythological prophet.  Snakes licked her ears clean so that she was able to hear the future.  Maybe not the best holiday idea for ophidiophobes. 

How about Gandhi?  His birthday, October 2nd, is now the International Day of Non-Violence. 

Then there’s Edgar Cayce, the ‘sleeping prophet,’ who could do remote cures.  He was born on March 18^th. 

Sigh.  I’m not sure what the answer is, other than just muddling through the season.  And maybe holding on to the advice of Augustine of Hippo: 

In essentials unity,

In doubtful things liberty,

In all things love. 

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE DAYLIGHT

Did you know the royal zygote already has a horoscope?  That’s right, Kate Middleton’s bump already has a personality profile.  For some reason, that bothers me a little.  All that expectation being placed on the poor little thing before it even has fingernails. 

They say Prince William is a Cancerian. His mother, Diana, was Cancerian too. And her grandchild is set to also belong to this sign. Babies born around the middle of 2013 will capture, in their horoscopes, the exceptional energy of seven rare ‘squares’ being formed from Uranus to Pluto. It will be over 60 years until the world comes under such an awakening influence again. Horoscopically speaking (yes, I did make that word up), it is believed the new heir to the throne will ‘play a crucial part in a consciousness revolution that inspires the children of tomorrow to create a dramatically different, far less fearful future.’  Yeah, no pressure there. 

Lately, I’ve been extremely fearful, so less fear sounds just grand to me.  My car died last week and now I have to buy a new one.  That alone is enough to induce sleepless nights.  But, there’s more.  In Ireland, as in most of Europe, most people drive manual shift cars.  I do not know how to drive a manual shift.  Automatics are costly and difficult to repair.  In fact, there is only one place in the entire country that works on automatic transmissions.  So, a few friends have been trying to teach me how to drive a manual shift car.  The result is a complete FEAR CIRCUS.  I’m absolutely no-frigging-good at it.  None.  Not at all.  The whole car thing is making me so nervous, I jump at every little bump or noise.  Yesterday, I had a nightmare during a day dream. 

So, you may say, get over it and buy an automatic.  Then the whole ‘we-can’t-repair-this’ scenario will probably repeat itself all over again, at some stage.  I live in the middle of nowhere.  A car is imperative. 

For the longest time, I wanted to be the reclusive writer who lived by the lake.  Far from the madding crowd.  It was a dream packed with such passion and drive that it kept me alive through some of the most emotionally challenging events in my life (so far).  Now I’m here and delighted to have realized that dream all those years ago.  But a funny thing happens when you get what you wish for.  It usually comes with an unexpected lagniappe.  [Lan-yap (noun) – gift with purchase; something that is added.] 

I’m thinking Kate Middleton was probably eager to make a baby.  But now she’s got morning sickness that sounds more severe than radiation poisoning. 

I wish those horoscope experts would/could warn us about these little added surprises.  It might not change the outcome, but it could ease the fear.