Fayre Tales 2, The Vinegar Woman, Excerpt

In honor of the completion of the first draft of Fayre Tales Two, The Vinegar Woman; here is a special unedited sneak peek at the second installment of your soon to be favorite book (I hope=-).

“Fayre...Fayre,” Fayre opened her eyes, Medwin was at the foot of the tree, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you sleeping up there?”

“No, just thinking,” Fayre said as she sat up.

“About what Fadri said?”

“You heard?”

“He told me.”

“Oh,” she didn't want to mention that she was homesick.

Medwin smiled,“Do you mind if I come up there?”

“Uh, sure.”

Medwin climbed up the branch with just as much skill as Fayre had and sat himself next to her. They sat there for an uncomfortable moment or two. Fayre dangled her feet nervously.

“You know, not many Inches are tree climbers.”

“Really?”

“Without wings they're not very comfortable with heights.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Fayre looked up at the smoke cloud, “What other odd Faery habits do I have that you've noticed?”

“Oh not many, you stuck mostly to the fruit last night, the not-afraid-of-heights thing, and you're very graceful, almost like you're floating.” Fayre blushed and turned away. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you.” Medwin reached out and placed his hand on Fayre's for a moment, then pulled it away as though he thought better of it. “I'm sorry, excuse me.”

Medwin turned and climbed down quickly, walked a few steps and paused. “Fayre?”

“Yes?”

“You'll do fine,I'm here for you,” he met her eyes with his, “I mean, we're here for you.” Quickly, he turned and walked away.

Fayre Tales Excerpt #3

Fayre would often sit among the berries of a certain Rowan tree, were she could watch the young Faery children playing and flying about without being seen for her hair was near the color of the berries. She was daydreaming, working on another scenario where she was somehow reunited with her parents, if she had any. Maybe her parents were searching for her, for eighteen years. Anything's possible right?

The branch swayed a little when Jolly landed on it, Gery was his given name but it had since been changed to Jolly on account of his circumference. Fayre was too intent on a group of Faeries playing with some dandelion seeds in the breeze to notice. Had she turned at that moment her eyes would have fallen on a comical sight. One would think his excess width would be beneficial in balancing like the pole that tight-rope walkers carry, but this width was not as stationary as a tight-rope walkers pole, it tended to squish and shift at the most inopportune moments and throw the good Faery into a terrible wiggle.

It was a such wiggle that finally got Fayre's attention, “Oh, Jolly are you alright? How did you find me?” she asked as she grabbed his hand and helped him to a less precarious position. She had to hold tightly to a nearby twig while he settled his substantial weight and waited for him to catch his breath.

“Gran Melia told me where to find you,” he said, "She wanted me to bring you this, said you might be cold." He handed her the bright green shawl Gran had made for her. It was a pretty shawl but she hated wearing it, Faeries don't get cold. It was just another reminder that she didn't belong. "She told me to make sure you wear it, she doesn't want you getting sick again," Faeries don't get sick either.

Post Numero Uno

Welcome to the Fayre Tales blog!

Wow, my first blog! isn't that super duper fantastico!

Hey doods I'm writing a book, but it's not out yet so I'm gonna bug you about it every week or so until it, like, is out, yeah...

Is there an un-corny way to start this?

My husband's advise: You're the writer.

Thanks dear.


Here goes...

Fayre Tales is my first book, my first trilogy actually. O.K. insert elevator pitch here:

Fayre Tales is about two societies, Inches, who are forced to live underground by an evil dictator, and Faeries, who don't believe in the existence of Inches. When Fayre (an Inche) is born in a Faery village events are put in motion that may cause the two societies to collide... again.

Ooh! Are you interested yet? Still working on the elevator pitch.

Here's some more about me: I only ever wanted to write one book, I had never even entertained the idea of being an author full time. Someone should have warned me that just like potato chips you can't have just one book. Guess I probably wouldn't have listened though.

At the moment I am about half way through the first draft of book two and continuing work on editing book one. Like many writers before me I am discovering the thrill of getting to know the characters I am writing about. Even with a basic outline to work from it is so exciting to get to see what's just around the next bend in the road, the next page in the book, it's both exhilarating and terrifying!

My goal here is to update about once a week or so with insights into my writing process and maybe an occasional excerpt from one of the books. Speaking of excerpts, here's one to get you started:

     Gran was busy making plans of her own, she stopped to visit Jolly. He shouldn't be too hard to convince, she would just need to make it seem like it was his idea. Of course that's not an extremely difficult thing for a female of any species, but she didn't want the council to know that she had any involvement in it or they might forbid him to go.
     Jolly was sitting on the front porch dangling his pudgy feet over the edge, “Hi, Gran, it's a lovely evening, isn't it.”
     “I'm sorry to say, I hadn't really noticed, Jolly.” She said sighing.
     “Come sit, Gran, tell me what's the matter,” Jolly was always such a nice kid, thought Gran with a smile. She sat down next to him dangling her feet too.
     “Fayre came back today,” Jolly looked at her with surprise and couldn't hide the smile on his face, “She said she found something, she's determined to go and search for her people.”
     “Her people?” Jolly asked surprised, “then she's not a Faery after all?”
     “No, Jolly, she's not,” she paused and sighed, “I have to say I'm worried about her.” Well, she wasn't lying. Hopefully he'd catch the bait.
     “She's going by herself?” he looked worried, good, “but that's dangerous, she can't go by herself!”
     “There's nothing I can do, Jolly.” Gran tried not to look at him, it was working well. Who knew old Gran Melia could be so devious! She tried not to laugh out loud.