Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Staircase Parallel

In The Princess and the Goblin Princess Irene gets lost in the castle and follows a winding staircase to meet her great-great grandmother. This is Charlotte's (rough draft) version:



I step closer to them.

"Prince Kade has hundreds of these inventions. I help test them all time."

Kade shrugs.

"Half of them are just junk, though."

"Oh, I'm sure they're amazing," she says, leaning toward Kade to get a closer look at the workings of the spider. A thick golden curl of hair touches his arm, and he jumps.

"You've gotten wet!"

"Just a splash from when you fell in the water. I'm afraid I was too close to the river at the time." She looks up with sweet, innocent eyes.

Kade finally climbs out of the river while patting the pockets that run along the front of his belt.

"I have just the thing," he says and pulls on one the pocket flaps. "This is something I made just a while ago. I haven't been able to get much use out of it yet."

I've only seen this invention once, when Kade put the finishing touches on it a few weeks ago. It is a brush that collapses in on itself to be stored easily in his pocketed leather belt, along with a few of his other inventions. Kade pushes the bristles open, and Brielle gasps in surprise. Next, he unfolds his cube and attaches it to the end of the brush handle. Without any command given, the brush immediately starts to blow warm air from its bristles. Brielle laughs as Kade combs through the wet curl on her shoulder.

I watch, dripping, and in just a few short moments Kade declares that she is all dry and asks if she wants to see the rest of his inventions. She claps her hands enthusiastically.

Laisey steps beside me and says, "What a wonderful idea! Might we all go?"

Kade is flustered for a moment, as if he has forgotten that we are all here. Mother and Helfer decline and turn to walk back to the castle. Helfer must need to leave soon. The wall certainly won't build itself. Laisey moves to stand beside Kade, talking about how fascinating his inventions are. Truly, she's never cared much about them before.

I don't know where to go or what to do. I am soaked to the bone with river water. I can still feel it rolling down my face from the top of my head. The dark clouds overhead are threatening to pour rain on us all, and all I can do is stand with my arms folded around my middle, shivering.

The three of them start to walk away, but Kade turns to look at me.

"Are you coming, Charlotte?"

I shake my head, not saying anything for a moment, then let out a small, "No."

"I should go change into dry clothes," I say a little louder and point in the direction of my family's wing of the castle. "I'll meet you three later."

I watch them leave without me. Kade is gesturing wildly with his arms, most likely telling them about all the wonders that await to be seen in his workplace. I feel empty and hungry. I debate with myself whether or not to change first or get food first and decide to stop by the kitchens to order a late breakfast on the way to my rooms. That way it should be ready and waiting for me once I've managed to take a hot bath.

My feet are soggy in my boots and I am quite aware of the trail of water I am leaving through the corridor. I don't bother to wipe up after myself or try to keep the drips under control. The first drops of rain fell as I stepped into the castle. Pretty soon it should be wet all around and I won't be the only person tracking in muddy footprints.

I make my way through the servants hallway, hoping it will get me to the kitchen quicker. I don't go this way very often; I am unfamiliar with the various turns and choices. I have to stretch my mind at each junction, trying to remember the way. It is colder in this part of the castle with no tapestries covering the stone walls. There is only the occasional moonstone built in to give light. One would think someone would have lined the walls with some sunstone as well, which would give heat. Then again, most traveling this way aren't soaking wet from taking a tumble in the river. Perhaps I wouldn't be so cold if I was dry?

The hall is slightly darker here, and I truly have no idea where I am. I keep walking, getting colder with each step. I've never been afraid of goblins before, but here in the dark, all alone, I pray that none decide to make an appearance. I take a couple of turns, and soon there is nowhere for me to go, but through a tall wooden door. I pull on the latch and it opens easily, revealing a dark circular staircase. I have never been to this part of this castle. I don't know where the stairs might lead, but I can guess that if I turn around, I will only get more lost and confused. I can't remember which way I have gone, so it will be hard to retrace my steps. The only solution I can see is to keep going forward.

I shiver as I move up the staircase. If only I had a small sunstone to hold in my hands. The thought seems like heaven itself. It is dark, but I suppose my eyes have adjusted, because I have no trouble seeing all aroudn me. There is really nothing to see, though. Just steps and steps turning upwards.

At last I turn around the bend in the wall and see that it opens to a large balcony. No more steps. My legs feel like ice, and I wiggle my frozen toes to bring life back them. My arms are wrapped around my body as tight as they can, but still I am cold. I need to find my way to my room so I can change out of this blasted wet dress. Wet dress, not blasted. Just wet.

I am surprised to see a woman standing at the edge of the balcony. Her hair is long and straight and silver. It almost sparkles, despite the darkness. There must be a roof of some sort, because she is dry een though she is standing so close to the rain. She is surrounded by a flock of pigeons, and they coo and bob their heads all around the railing. She is turned away from me, and I am sorry to bother her, but she must know the way back to the main castle.

"Excuse me," I say, and I suddenly find myself amidst a flutter of wings and feathers.

"You've disturbed the poultry," the woman says when the noise has died down. There is not a single pigeon left on the balcony. I hope they find a new shelter from the rain quickly.

"I am sorry. Truly, I am, but I've lost my way." I am about to ask for directions when she turns to face me. Her silver hair is brushed back from her face. She looks old and cunning, but it confuses me, because her skin is soft and white. There are no wrinkles around her knowing eyes.

"Come to me, my dear," she says, and reaches out a delicate hand. I take a small step forward. My legs are stiff. "Do you know who I am?" she asks.

I shake my head. My mind feels cold now, too. Can minds feel cold? I do need to change to dry clothes. All the wet and cold is slowing me down.

"Please, can you tell me which way to go? I'm trying..." For a moment I can't remember what I'm trying to do. I'm shaking so hard that my teeth start to chatter. "I'm trying to go..."

It's so hard to stand. I let myself sink to the floor, curling into a ball. I close my eyes. Will that make my head warmer? Keep the warmth in my mind?

The old woman doesn't say another word. She is so quiet that I truly don't know if she is still beside me. I lay there, shivering, trying to keep whatever bit of warmth I still have left, and drift off into a fitful sleep.

*   *   *

The first realization I have about myself as my mind starts to wake is that I am no longer cold. I've stretched out on the stone floor, and my dress is now only slightly [damp]. I can't hear the rain any longer, but it can't have stopped too long ago, because the constant thumping of raindrops haunted my dreams. Someone is stroking my hair, which is mostly clinging to my forehead in damp, sticky curls.

I open my eyes to see the old woman sitting beside me. She is radiating a warmth that I wish I would have felt before I had fallen asleep. I touch her wrist, and she stops [petting] my head. I stare at her for a few moments, wondering in silence. She is the same woman I saw before, is she not? Her face is the same. Her kind, wise eyes show the same depth of knowledge as they had when I first saw them. But her hair is no longer silver. Instead of falling in straight silky threads, it cascades around her face in waves the color of sunshine. She looks ill almost, as if she is using all her strength just to sit beside me.

"Who are you?" I ask in a whisper. I don't want to disturb this silence I've woken to.

"I miss my daughter," she replies. She speaks so softly that I almost miss her next words. "I can't find her."

"Who is she? Maybe I can help."

The old lady merely shakes her head and purses her lips.

"You've lost your way. If you go back down the stairs, you will find yourself at home." How could that be? I wandered for so long before finding the stairway, and I hadn't even been close to my family's quarters. Perhaps this woman doesn't know her way around the castle, after all.

When she sees my doubt, she says, "You will find your way," and raises herself from the floor. I try to stand to follow her, but my muscles are still stiff from shivering and from sleeping on the hard stone. By the time I sit up and look for her, I see that she is gone. I press my hands to my temples and lean forward. What have I just witnessed? Who was that woman and what is she doing in the castle?

I manage to pull myself to my feet, and slowly I start to feel strength return to my shakey legs. Just go back down the stairs the way that I came? Surely it can't be so simple, but at least that's the way I have to start. The balcony is a dead end. There is nowhere left to go. Before heading back down the stairs, I make my way to the balcony. There are a few pigeons returned from when I scared them away. The rain has indeed stopped, and there is a little sunshine peeking from behind the clouds. I look out and below to the castle grounds. I see the mountain rising up just as it always does, but I don't recognize any part of it. This surprises me greatly, considering all the explornig Kade and I have done through the years. I am sure that we have climbed over every rock on that mountain.

I am beginning to get cold again. It's far past time to have left. I turn to walk down the stairs and find myself in front of the great wooden door at the bottom in just a matter of moments. Was all that time passing just my imagination? Or just my weariness from climbing? I push on the door and step through the opening.

Just as the woman told me, I find myself just outside the hallway that enters our rooms. Blah blah finish.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

The Goblins

This is my copy of The Princess and the Goblin. I've read it multiple times now, and there's Post It notes through the whole thing. The ones coming out the sides are details I want to incorporate into the setting and characters, and the ones on the top are details I want in the plot.
In George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin he describes his goblins as being, "not ordinarily ugly, but either absolutely hideous or ludicrously grotesque both in face and form. There was no invention, they said, of the most lawless imaginations expressed by pen or pencil, that could surpass the extravagance of their appearance."

In MacDonald's world the goblins were once people, and it took generations of living underground to look as they do. In my world for this book, they became misshapen and ugly when they were banished to the Underground after losing the Shard War to the Spring Kingdom. The Autumn Queen turned into the Goblin Queen the moment she stepped into the tunnels, and all her people did as well. There are drafts of my worldbuilding with the Shard War and banishment happening generations before my book takes place, but as I started writing the rough draft, it needs to have happened closer in the past.

Here are the pictures I've gathered to give a feel for the goblins:

13 Rifle Goblin by raipai

Goblin by Jonhyrock

Goblin Piker by chrstphrwest

Goblin Shaman by JonasJensenArt

Goblin Sketches by UlaFish

Goblin Raider by Brian Wynia


Friday, July 24, 2015

Introducing Prince Kaderic III

Kade is the prince of my Cinderella story, and during all the time I spent brainstorming and worldbuilding and plotting, that's all he was - the prince. He was the stock, no personality good guy. When it was time to bring his character into the story, my daughter Alyssa gave me an answer to a completely different question that just skyrocketed his character into being so much cooler.

First off, his name. The story I'm writing is actually going to be a three book young adult series that is a mash-up of the stories, "Cinderella," "The Princess and the Goblin," by George MacDonald and "Snow Queen." I'm going off of Charles Perrault's Cinderella, written in the 1800's in France, so I'm setting it in make-believe 1700's France to give the story time for it to be a fairy tale in Perrault's time. So far all the characters have French names - Charlotte, Brielle, Laisey. For the prince, I wanted to use the names from those base stories, which were all very similar, but I didn't know which to use.

In "Cinderella," he is just The Prince. In "The Princess and the Goblin," his name is Curdie, and in "Snow Queen" it is either Kay or Kai, depending on which version you read.

I went with Kai first, just because it sounded cool when my friend Sachiko was reading "Snow Queen" aloud to me, but I really wanted to incorporate Curdie into it, so I changed it to Kade, and it felt very right.

But what kind of French-type king and queen name their son Kade? I realized that Kade has to be a nickname, and he needed a real name. I decided to go with Kaderic, and Erin confirmed that idea when she looked up French royalty and found a bunch of Frederics. I don't know if he's really going to be Prince Kaderic the third. I'm still trying to figure out how important his family story is to the history of my world and where they fit in the whole thing and just how many Kaderics that have already been in his family line. We'll see.

How Kade Became Kade, Instead of Just "Good Guy Prince":

Charlotte and Kade are best friends, and early in the book they go on a morning adventure together. I was trying to figure out what they were actually doing, so I asked Alyssa, and she said, "Make him an inventor and have them try out one of his inventions." Brilliant! From that moment on, everything about Kade fell into place. His motivations, his interactions with his family and Charlotte's family, and even his interactions with the people of his kingdom - it was all suddenly clear.

So Kade is an inventor. I looked it up, and they had clocks and clockwork gadgets and all sorts of inventions in the 1700's, so the believability is good. He is basically the 1700's version of "I've got an app for that."

Oh, you need your harp tuned? I've got a gadget for that.

You need a powered hair dryer? I've got a gadget for that.

He doesn't actually say, "I've got a gadget for that," though. Sorry. And he gets help from the story's source of magic to power his inventions.

Here's the picture that screamed to me, "This is Kade!" when I found it. I realize it has nothing to do with 18th century anything. It's just a steampunk guy. But it is kade.

I just looked it up, and the title of this picture actually is, "Steampunk Guy." By AdLovett

Remove the eye goggle, take away the gun (although he should totally make a gun at some point), stick him in a waistcoat covering his gadget belt, and you'll get 18th Century Steampunk Kade. Here's some clothing options to help:





Okay, For Starters

If you were nice enough to click on my Facebook post, you are probably wondering, "Why the heck is Carrie calling herself Jacqueline Lewis?!? What - she thinks herself a real author, deserving an awesome pen name?"

That's not it. I promise. I don't think I'm this super cool author. I realize that I've only written one rough draft of a book and I'm working on my second. I realize that it's going to take a ton of work and time to hopefully be published someday. I'm not trying to be cool.

I realized, though, while writing that first draft of mine that when you write you put so much of yourself into your characters and story, that the name you go by - the name you use to think of yourself as a writer - is so important. The times that I would dream about sending Maura's story to a publisher, I would wonder, "Am I sending this under the name Carrie Lewis or Carrie Jacks?" Even though most people wouldn't struggle with that question, I did.

I am a Lewis, and Lewises feel pretty darn cool about being Lewises.  If I didn't use the name Lewis, it would feel like a betrayal to my family and all that I ever was. But Carrie Jacks is who I am now. Carrie Jacks has been through so much in life that has made me the person I am today. There is an awful lot of Carrie Jacks that goes into my stories.

So one day my sister-in-law (also my very good friend) was over, and we were discussing a book we wanted to write together. Erin was trying to come up with a pseudonym for the two of us by combining our last names, and she said, "Jacqueline Lewis." I instantly latched on to that name and asked Erin if I could steal it.

Jacue for Jacks

line for Lynn, my middle name

and Lewis of course, for Lewis.

It felt so perfect, and it's pretty. I like pretty things.

I also have a couple ideas for some silly stories, like "Don't Believe Anything The Alligator Tells You," that I'd like to write under the name Jackie Lewis, because it's more fun. I like fun things, too.