Author: JennyDetroit (Page 8 of 43)

A Side Project That Took Over My Life

May 17, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Seven years ago, I hadn’t yet started my career as an independent author. I was still finding my way as a writer, so I decided to write a NaNoWriMo novel based on my memories of childhood.

It wasn’t a memoir, though. I’m a fantasy author. I wanted there to be some magic in this story, so I had to make it fictional. My inspiration was Ray Bradbury and his beautiful ode to childhood, Dandelion Wine, a novel I hold dear to my heart.

So I invented Sarah Lewis, a ten-year-old from California who spends the summer with her grandparents in Michigan.

(“Sarah Lewis” by the way is an homage to two icons from my childhood: Sarah, the name of the lead character in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, and Jenny Lewis, child star of the 80s and early 90s. I wished I could be them when I was a kid.)

I worked on the NaNoWriMo novel for awhile back in 2015, but then I set it aside and started work on my first published novel, The Thirteen Treasures of Britain. Treasures came out just after I had given birth to my second child (in 2016), and I was all set to start working on book two of the Merlin’s Last Magic series, when I found out I was pregnant again.

This third pregnancy threw me for a loop, and to take my mind off the mounting pressure to finish my Merlin series, I returned to my little side project.

Avalon Summer became my low-pressure respite from the demands of my day job, motherhood, and trying to write the next book in my fantasy series. When I was working on Avalon Summer, I could return to the days of my childhood: to the early 90s, to endless bike rides, to playing adventures in the woods. I would cue up my old R.E.M. albums and just write, remembering what it was like to be a kid again.

I worked on this book off-and-on for several years, just dipping into it when I needed a break from normal life.

But then about a year or so ago, something happened. I started to work on Avalon Summer A LOT. Maybe it was the pandemic, or maybe it was just the right time for it, but I became so caught up in Sarah’s story that my nice little side project became the main event. I started working on Avalon Summer all the time.

And then something else happened.

In the course of the story, Sarah finds a dusty old paperback called Gates to Illvelion. It contains some eerie parallels to her own life.

When I was writing about the paperback and its effect on Sarah, I realized I needed to make up some chapter titles, some characters, and some plot points for this non-existent book to fit into my narrative for Avalon Summer.

So I did.

And then I decided to write the entire book.

The result — Gates to Illvelion — is an homage of sorts to the pulpy genre fantasy of the 1970s. Inspired by writers such as Peter S. Beagle, Patricia McKillop, and Andre Norton, I wrote Gates to Illvelion as something ten-year-old Sarah would get immersed in and even disturbed by.

I wrote it under a pen name — A.R. Rathmann — and not to spoil things too much, but I decided to make the identity of A.R. Rathmann a plot point in Avalon Summer.

If this sounds a little confusing, well, it is.

I wrote a coming-of-age novel in which a young girl is obsessed with a fantasy book by a mysterious author, and then I went and wrote the fantasy book this young girl becomes obsessed with.

Because of the nature of these two projects, I decided to do a Kickstarter campaign that showcased the connection between these two books. Readers scrolling through Amazon wouldn’t know or understand that Gates to Illvelion is a new release pretending to be an old vintage paperback. And they certainly wouldn’t understand that Gates to Illvelion plays a role in the plot to another novel, Avalon Summer, a coming-of-age story about a girl spending the summer with her grandparents in Michigan.

These two books have a story behind their creation. The Kickstarter was my way of sharing that story.

But now the books are getting released to the general public on May 30, 2023, so I thought a blog post was in order to explain the connection between them. Buyers scrolling through Amazon still won’t know the connection between Gates to Illvelion and Avalon Summer, but I’m hoping word of mouth will provide some illumination.

Of course, each book can be read independently of the other. They aren’t connected except in a meta, self-referential way.

And I’ve kept the pen name “A.R. Rathmann” separate from my “Jennifer M. Baldwin” identity. A.R. Rathmann is listed as a separate author on the retailer websites and on Goodreads. Perhaps this isn’t the best tactic marketing-wise, but it’s how I wanted to do things.

Summer is almost here, and so are Avalon Summer and Gates to Illvelion. I hope you’ll want to sit on the handlebars and come along for the ride.

Get Back in the Saddle

May 8, 2023 / / 0 Comments

I haven’t blogged for a few days, failing (you might say) in my attempt to blog every day. I set the challenge, and I fell short, and thus I failed.

Or…

Maybe I can never fail. Maybe the old cliche is right, and the only way to fail is to give up. Missing a few days blogging last week is nothing compared to giving up right now. And I don’t want to give up. I want to keep blogging. I want to try and post something every day.

I know I’ll fall short at some point. But that’s not the point of all this. The real point is to keep going.

I’ve been here before with my writing. I’ve gone through stretches where my fears and my perfectionism made it hard for me to write ten words, let alone a thousand. I went through periods where I could only write when I had the “perfect time” to write (what a joke I was playing on myself then), and I went through periods where I thought the reason I couldn’t write was because my life had conspired against me to rob me of my inspiration or my time or my energy (this was also a joke, but not one I played on myself… it turns out the joke came from others, from gurus with “advice,” which was that in order to write, one had to write a certain amount of words each day, and every day, and if one didn’t meet these quotas, one wasn’t a “real” writer… boy, did that put too much pressure on what was supposed to be something fun!).

But each time, whether I did it to myself or believed what others said was true, I never gave up. Not completely. I still kept writing, even after long stretches of not-writing. It would have been a lot easier to stop writing, when I felt so much like a failure, only it wouldn’t have been easier. Not really. Because, for whatever crazy reason, I really, really, really need to write. I need to put my thoughts and ideas and stories into written words, and if I don’t do that, I get cranky. I get all bent and sharp-edged. If I go too long without writing, I get angry. Out of sorts. I never realized that my compulsion to write was tangled up in my emotions and sense of self, until I started noticing how I felt on days when I wrote and how I felt on days when I didn’t. Kinda like the difference between days when you exercise and eat well versus the days when you don’t.

It’s the same with blogging (which, obviously, is a kind of writing). If I don’t write down my ideas and work through my thoughts as I write, I feel off. I feel strange. Not myself. All bottled up, and at the same time kind of fuzzy, like my very self is going out of focus on an old TV set.

So, I can’t give it up. Even if the internet melted down tomorrow (which… maybe not a bad thing…?), I would still write down my thoughts and put them out there for others to see. I might make more zines, I guess. (Which, come to think of it, is probably something I should do anyway.)

But regardless of the delivery system, I would still want to write stuff and show it to people. Not because I think what I have to say is so great or important, but simply because I feel good when I write, and I feel good trying to connect with other people through my writing. Why do any of us make stuff and share it with others? Because it’s fun and makes us feel good.

Missing a few days in my “daily blogging” challenge doesn’t change anything. I haven’t failed. I’m still “blogging every day” because I’m here right now, typing these words and posting them, and I’ll keep “blogging every day” no matter how many future days I miss. Failure only happens if I give up. And I’m not going to.

Finally Feels Like Spring

May 4, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Today, it finally felt like a real spring.

We had a false spring — a false summer, really — in the middle of April, when the temperatures got up into the 80s, but after that it was cold, colder than normal, and snowy too, a few days.

Now, it’s finally warm enough to go out with only a sweater or light jacket, warm enough to feel the breeze against your cheek and it feels good, not biting or cruel.

I went for a walk, my usual route down the main road near our house, and the smell of freshly cut grass and wet earth and lots of running stream water was everywhere. And I listened to Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks and got ideas for a couple of stories, one a new idea, the other a wrinkle to add to an idea from last week.

Spring is the best walking weather (maybe autumn is tied with it too) because it’s usually never too hot, and the coolness is bearable with the right jacket and accessories. And everything is coming alive, so for me, story ideas seem to come alive too. I just hope we get a few more weeks of real spring before summer’s heat descends and makes afternoon walks too scorching.

A Little Patch of Trees

May 2, 2023 / / 0 Comments

It was just a little patch of jack pine and maybe some white pine too, a few brambles and sumac, the last remnants of a slightly larger bit of woods, the bulk of which was cut down a while ago to make way for two subdivisions of McMansion-style houses. But the little patch that was left after that initial devastation — the little patch on the corner of the road — was still something. Something to enjoy as we took our family walks down to the gyro restaurant. Something to enjoy as I took my twice-daily walking breaks while working from home. Something worth savoring, even if it was a meager smattering of trees.

Now, it’s being cut down.

I’m embarrassed, on some level, to confess that it bothers me this much to see these trees cut down. Why should a few pine trees matter? It wasn’t like some beautiful, ancient forest was being plowed to make a strip mall. These were just skinny, scrawny jack pines, not the Forest of Dean. To say this is a “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot” moment would be total overkill. They already destroyed much of the little woods several years ago. This was just a tiny remnant.

But I can’t help it, overkill or no. I enjoyed those trees. I imbibed those trees, from the wet piney smell on damp days to the way they shaded the ground beneath them on sweltering summer afternoons. Those trees hid squirrels and birds and so many dragonflies and butterflies, and they made the walks we took down the sidewalk just a little more pleasant, a little more wild.

I would often walk alone past the trees and the wildflowers that grew up around them, and the sumac and milkweed, and stare into the denseness of the undergrowth, and think and dream, projecting strange images into the shadows and brambles that populated that little patch of wilderness. It was a respite from the zooming cars on the other side of the road, the noise and the speed. The patch of trees absorbed all that and quieted things, and looked especially beautiful as the sun set behind it on wintery Saturday evenings, the pale pink and orange glow of the sky enveloping the thin browns and greens of pine needles and bare branches.

Now, all that’s gone.

A few more houses will be built, I’m sure. And I guess I don’t begrudge someone wanting to buy a house. I live in suburbia, so what should I expect, right?

But that doesn’t mean my heart can’t break a little. That doesn’t mean I can’t feel a lump in my throat when I look at all those trees, cut down to thin logs and stacked into neat little piles, and now the sky is too glaring and huge, with nothing to soften it, and the houses that’ll be built there will be built without any trees in the yard, so that the skyline will be nothing but triangle roofs and too-big houses on too-small lots.

I’m not against all development, but if we’re going to build new housing, why can’t we concentrate it in downtown districts? Why can’t we build multi-unit housing? Why can’t we leave these patches of trees alone?

I’m a hypocrite, of course, because I live in a single-family house and not in the downtown district. I’m a NIMBY, and I’m ashamed of it. Maybe my husband and I made a mistake in not trying to find housing in a more walkable neighborhood, in an apartment or townhouse or duplex or whatever. I think about that a lot and do sometimes regret our housing choice.

But the little bit of wilderness we once had by our house is now nearly gone. That little patch of trees was the last bit. And while the stream and wetlands that are also near that corner probably can’t be developed for environmental reasons (thank goodness!), they are a mere fragment of what was formerly there.

It’s not like we didn’t see this coming. We knew that land would be developed someday. And when it was — when that first bulldozing of the woods happened — we were sad. But a little patch of trees remained, and I’d sort of gotten used to it, thinking that at least that little patch would stick around for us to enjoy.

But I should’ve known better. If there’s land to develop, it will someday be developed, even something as meager as that smattering of pine trees. I’m sure whoever owns the lands, and whoever buys the houses, will be much happier with the trees gone, and what say do I have in it anyway? It’s not my land. It never was. Those were never my trees. But even if I never owned them, I knew them, and seeing them gone is like seeing a friend move away forever.

Just a little patch of trees. But they mattered, at least to me.

Soundtrack of My Write

May 1, 2023 / / 0 Comments

My morning fiction writing habit continues, and today, I wrote a tense scene where my main character is fleeing from a ghoul in a misty, frozen tundra.

I have a playlist for this particular work-in-progress, a mix of Led Zeppelin, Nordic garage rock, The Cramps, 1950s rock & roll oldies, and some jazzy tunes from mid-century, and for my scene this morning, I queued up Kay Starr’s “Wheel of Fortune.” On the surface, it was incongruent with the scene I was writing, and yet it really helped me get in the mood.

I can’t explain it exactly, but something about the contrast between the big, brassy song and the cold, tense atmosphere of the scene felt right.

The lyrics helped too. My main guy is running for his life, and it’s somewhat funny to think of lyrics like, “The wheel of fortune goes spinning around. Will the arrow point my way? Will this be my day?” as my guy is trying to outrun a monster. The languid pace of the song mixed with the quickness and fear in the scene also makes a nice contrast.

I often try to find a song that matches the mood of the scene, but in this case I went with opposites, and a bit of irony, and it really made the scene a blast to write.

Freaky Face

April 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

I’m reading John Bellairs’s The Face in the Frost, and I guess I was not prepared for how creepy and downright scary this book can be at times. I’m not sure why this surprised me since Bellairs is known for scary YA fiction, but I’ve been pleasantly (and creepily) surprised by how spooky The Face in the Frost is.

It’s a wonderful mixture of anachronistic elements and a sort of whimsical and madcap, everything-and-the-kitchen-sink type fantasy, but then it adds these supernatural horror elements, and it makes for a unique experience. I really love these pre-1980s fantasy novels where there’s a playful spirit of anything goes.

As I often do, I wonder if a book like this could be written today, or if there are authors who are doing this sort of thing in our current fantasy literature scene. There very well might be; I’m not well-read enough in today’s novels to say one way or another. But I am curious if there’s a place for Bellairs’s style of fantasy in our current moment.

« Older posts Newer posts »

Original header artwork

Copyright 2015 Chloe Bensinger

Bookshop

I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org and I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.

© 2024 Jennifer M. Baldwin

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑