The Root Goddess

This week’s Faerie Friday isn’t a normal Faerie Friday post. It’s not even about a Faerie.

Last Saturday, my husband and I got in the car and headed for parts unknown. Well, they weren’t exactly unknown. Our destination was Lennox, MA via Route 20. We were pretty sure we could get there that way. Wasn’t a hundred percent certain. But we were heading east so confidence was moderately high.

Surprisingly, Lennox was just where it was supposed to be in my head. That almost never happens. We did some shopping, had a lovely lunch (I had the Pear Welwood cocktail if you must know) and even stopped at a chocolate shop that had the most amazing chocolates.

On the way out of town, my husband pulled into this place that I spotted on our way in but didn’t give much mind to. At that point, I was a little overstimulated and ready to go home. If I was a cat, my husband would have been either scratched or bitten or both. He cut the engine of the car and gave me a look: Just shut up and follow me already.  

So I shut my trap and followed him into a shop that had some of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Masks and statues from all over the world. Jewelry. Artwork. Talk about overstimulation. As I was coming out of one of the small rooms, I spotted the carving in the picture above. I couldn’t get to her because another couple was looking at jewelry. Finally they moved out of the way and I made a beeline for her.

 The owner spotted me gazing up at her. She was strung up against a beam, fastened by a bit of twine. He explained that the carving was from Bali and was a representation of goddess, Dewi Sri. On the surface Bali is a Hindu country, but at the core, the Balinese people still believe in Earth Magic flows through the soil and into the plants. The carving was made from the roots of a 17^th century coffee bush and she brings with her abundance, prosperity and fertility.

I just had to have her and after debating where to put her, we decided above the mantle in our living room. I toyed with the idea of putting her over out bed, but I decided not to tempt fate.

Doesn’t she look lovely in our living room?

The lesson: Don’t be afraid to check out new places. You never know what you are going to find.

If you find yourself in Lennox, make sure to stop by Inspired Planet. You won’t be disappointed.

Hey, that chick has my face!

Today is Friday the 13^th. Yeah, don’t get all excited about it. I’m not particularly superstitious. I love black cats to distraction. I’ll walk under a ladder with wild abandon. I’ll even dance a jig if the right song is on the radio. And if there was any merit to the broken mirror prophecy, my bad luck would last well into my death. Can a rotting corpse have bad luck? I guess the rotting part doesn’t suggest exceptionally good luck.

*Buff shrugs*

My Grandma Wade used to say that Friday the 13^th was one of the luckiest days of the year. I guess she was one of those glass-half-filled kinda gals. I liked that about her. 

Anyway, in honor of today and the foolish dread some folks will no doubt feel, I decided to write about one of my favorite faerie like creatures – the Co-Walker. He’s creepy. He’s bad luck. He's perfect for today's Faerie Friday post.

Some of you folks will know the Co-Walker by some of his/her/its other names. Fetch. Doppelganger. Ghosts     of the Living. Copies. I’m especially fond of Thrumpins. Yes, Thrumpins.

Picture this: You’ve had an exceptionally long, tiring day. You can’t find a parking spot near your apartment. You drive around and around for what seems like hours and you finally find a spot in a dark corner three blocks from your place to park. As you are walking down the street, you hear footsteps behind you. You quicken your pace, but so does the guy behind you. Your heart pounds in your chest. You can’t catch your breath. You forget the uneven patch of pavement in front of your building and you find yourself tumbling onto the ground. When you look up from your humiliating sprawl, you stare into the face of someone that looks like you. Just like you. Right down to the hot pink ponytail holder and scuffed shoes.

No, that’s not the twin your mother never told you about. It’s a Co-Walker and that fact that you’ve seen him means only one thing – you’re a dead man. Or woman.

The Co-Walker is a powerful portent of death. Seeing him means your death is imminent. But sometimes, he befriends lonely children. I guess he’s not all bad, folks.

I will concede this isn’t one of my best Faerie Friday posts. In my defense, a bunch of my research books are buried under a pile of other books in my office. I had this incident a few weeks back where my desk collapsed. Long story, but I’ll try to be more creative in the future. 

The Rusalki

I’m chilling in Russia this week for Faerie Friday. Again. Just in case you were wondering, I plan on staying here through next week. And maybe I’ll swing on over to Japan next month, but I’m undecided. I found this great book on the Yokai. If you don’t know what the Yokai are, you’ll just have to come back and find out. J

The Rusalki are the Russian equivalents (sort of) of the Greek Naiad, i.e. hot freshwater nymphs. Okay, they aren’t hot in all the versions of the story, but for the purpose of this exercise, they are. Capisce?

In some versions, the Rusalki wear white shifts and in other, they are completely bare assed. In all stories, they have long, flowing hair. Sometimes green. They spend the winter months submerged in the depths of lakes and rivers and crawl out during the summer months.

You are going to meet one of two ends when you tangle with a Rusalki. Most commonly she uses her siren voice and her laughter to lure young men to the water where she takes them in her embrace and drowns them. The other way is a more ignominious way – she tickles you to death. Yes, I said tickle. They sing, giggle and swing from branches and when they have you in their thrall, they sneak up behind you and tickle you to death. I can just imagine the epitaph: HERE LIKES BORIS, FELLED BY A TERRIBLE TICKLE. It’s a shameful way to die, but it does play into some boyhood fantasies. They only thing that’s missing is topless pillow fights.

By “you” in the above referenced illustrations, I mean young men. She can’t be bothered with women and is very hostile toward the fairer sex. As an aside, I know women like that and they are equally as unlikable as the Rusalki. Just not as deadly.

The Russian villager has a few tricks to keep them away – charms, hanging linen in the trees, garlic, iron and crosses.

Like many faerie creatures, they Rusalki are thought of as the souls of unbaptized children, drowned maidens and unwed mothers. They are considered an unclean force deriving their allure from the devil himself. Most likely, the Rusalki are the remnants of pagan goddesses. They are used to illustrate the contrast between themselves (unclean, devilish) and Christian women (good, chaste.) The Rusalki are spirited, wear their hair flowing freely, take lovers that are not their husbands, and in general behave like naughty (albeit more dangerous) sorority girls.

Not a nice girl, but a fun girl. Okay, fun for just a minute, but fun nonetheless!

Russian Water Devil

Okay, this one is going to be short. I have a cough I can’t get rid of and a book that won’t read itself. And I’ve been screwing around on my computer for two hours and haven’t accomplished anything. Such is the life of me.

Anyway, I decided stay in Russia for this week’s Faerie Friday post, but instead of a forest dwelling creature, we are going to focus on a guy who hangs around bodies of water looking for some sucker to drown, i.e. the Vodianoi, sometimes called vodianoi chert or “water devil.”

Russia is a big country, huge in fact, so the stories of Vodianoi vary from region on region, town to town. Sometimes he lives in the slimy bottoms of ponds and in other stories he lives in a crystal palace. He usually resides somewhere near a mill and he’s known to be a danger to everyone but fisherman and millers. Probably because they know how to treat him. They leave him the proper offerings – tobacco, bread, salt, vodka. You know, the usual.

His appearance also varies from place to place. Sometimes he’s slimy or scaly with green hair and beard. Sometimes he’s old, sometimes he’s young. That usually depends on the cycle of the moon. He’s naked in some stories and half fish in others.

He can be spotted by the water dripping from his coat. His clothing never dries and he leaves puddles everywhere. I find that more amusing than menacing. 

Guardian of the Russian Forest

Working on this week's Faerie Friday post. I swear this desk was clean a few days ago. Honest Buff.

So I took a break from blogging.

My intention had been to take the time to work on a few stories that I was close to completing. I’d like to say I was successful, but that wouldn’t be true. I’m a lot of things, but liar isn’t one of them. Well, mainly I’m not a liar. How does that old Dwight Yoakum song go? “I tell the truth except when I lie.” Something like that.

*heads to Rhapsody to add song to play list*

Anyway, I’m back and I’m heading to Russia for this week’s Faerie Friday post. I’m high on cold medicine so please forgive the occasion forgotten word or sentences that make little to no sense. I’m a bit rusty in the blog post writing arena.

Here goes nothing.

As I stated a few sentences ago, we are traveling to Russia for this week’s Faerie Friday post - the Russian forests to be more specific to where the Leshii dwell.

The Leshii is a natural spirit. Think Green Man with a Russian accent. One of my references says that they are the offspring of human woman and demons. Do what you will with that piece of information.

Each forest, unless it’s a big honking forest, has only one. (Les means forest, apparently.) He doesn’t just guard the forest, but all of the animals that reside there. He lives with his wife, known at the Lesovikha. She is portrayed in a number of a different ways: an ugly bint with big breasts, a woman in white or a pretty naked chick. Their children are called Leshonki.

In most stories, though they vary from location to location, the Leshii isn’t exactly a prize himself. He wears his boots on the wrong feet. He sports both green eyes and a green beard and long, messy hair. He casts no shadow and his eyes glow. He is a shape shifter that can change size and forms.

The Leshii, like many forest dwelling figures of folklore, love to play tricks on unsuspecting peasants. Making forest noises, laughing loudly, or clapping loudly, he liked to cause people to lose their way. Not such a big deal in our modern times, but before the invention of GPS, wandering aimless through a big forest could and would get you killed.

A way to ward off the Leshii is to wear your clothes inside out and to put your shoes on the wrong feet.

Like most of the creatures/figures I write about, there is a lot more to the Leshii, but I must leave that for another post.  

The Next Big Thing

 

Last week Jami Gold tagged me in one of her blog posts for “The Next Big Thing.” I don’t normally participate in these things though I do appreciate the gesture when I’m tagged. I usually don’t have the time (i.e. too lazy) but this is the second half day in a row for me with NYSE being closed so it’s either annoy my husband who is trying to get some work done or work on this. J I took a nap yesterday. Besides, Jami is a super cool lady and I don’t want to let her down. If you don’t already, you should check out her Tuesday and Thursday posts on writing. They are awesome.

So here goes my answers:

 

Ten Interview Questions for the Next Big Thing:

What is your working title of your book?

 

Darkness Peering

The title comes from the poem “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token…

 

This describes the position the heroine is in at the beginning of the book.

Where did the idea come from for the book?  

 

Regular readers of my blog know that I have a deep love of faerie lore. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of the changeling – a faerie that has been switched with a human child. I know there are a few YA books that have changelings, but I wanted to write an adult story about a changeling.

What genre does your book fall under?

This story falls under the Urban Fantasy category, but it has a strong Paranormal Romance bent.

 

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

 

The main character, Greer, would be played by Emma Stone. Her love interest, Thad, is a little harder to caste. I have a clear picture of him in my head, but no one seems to be good enough to play him. J

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

 

A faerie changeling, now all grown up, must discover the truth about herself and the circumstance of her birth in order to stop a lethal threat. Yes, I appreciate this is vague.

 

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

 

Not sure. I hope that I’ll be able to find an agent, but this is the book of my heart. I’ll figure out a way to get it published.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

 

I’ve written parts of this novel before I had an understanding of the characters. I have moved all of those pages into a folder titled “JUNK.” I’m starting all over this year for NaNoWriMo. I hope to finish the whole thing in November, but I’m sure it’ll bleed over into December. I tend to write very bare bones 1^st drafts. My guess is 6 to 8 weeks.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

The only changeling stories I know are YA and this is most defiantly not a YA novel!

 

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

 

My love of faerie lore, Russian mythology and an interesting setting – the Stockade neighborhood of Schenectady.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

One of the side characters, a cop called “The Face” behind his back, was inspired by a conversation I overheard at the grocery store between two clerks – one clerk was bragging about her nephew and the other thought she was talking about this other guy with the nickname “Face” that is serving time for murder. Interesting shopping trip to say the least.

 

Okay, so I have to tag five folks in this post.

 

Here they are:

 

NinaAlvarez – Fabulous friend, suitemate from college, awesome writer and editor. One of those people who always understands.

 

Rashda/MinaKhan – Super lady who resides in the Lone Star state where she writes about super-hot djinns. I love djinns. Oh, and she knows about food!

 

SuzyIvy – Really cool lady who just happens to be a cop and a writer! Someone I’d like to be like when I grow up.

 

LauraEno – Fun writer and blogger who writes a weekly blog post called “Fantasy Friday.” Anyone who loves mythology and folklore needs to check that out.

 

RobertaJ. Gordon – Awesome gal from Arkansas and author of Gemini Witching.

 

Rules for The Next Big Thing Blog Hop:

1)   Use this format for your post

2)   Answer the ten questions about your current WIP (work in progress)

3)   Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

Ten Interview Questions for the Next Big Thing:


What is your working title of your book?
Where did the idea come from for the book?
What genre does your book fall under?
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
Include the link of who tagged you and this explanation for the people you have tagged.

Author Photos

I decided a few months ago that I need to have professional photos taken. I hate, hate, hate getting my picture taken so when it came to picking a photographer, I was really particular. The photographer that photographed my wedding was awesome and she moved back into the area over the summer. Yay for me! You can check her out on Facebook.

Anyway, two weekends ago I met her down in the Stockade section of Schenectady for the shoot. The hour started with sprinkles, followed by huge gusts of wind from the river and finally sun. Both The Dark Man and the novel I am starting next month take place in this very neighborhood.

Here are some of my favorite shots:

St. George's church as a background.

 

 

 

One of my favorite houses on Front Street.

 

 

Very authory. Don't ya think?

 

 

Looking out over the Mohawk. Isle of the Cayugas in the distance.

 

 

Lovely set of gates.

 

 

Riverside Park

 

 

Another house on Front Street.

 

 

St. George and a few grave stones in the background. Most graves were moved to Vale Cemetery.

 

 

Street scene.

 

 

We have a w*nner!!!!

And it is.... Patricia Lynne! 

Patricia Lynne, please email me your address at msbuffy@nycap.rr.com and I'll get the book right out to you!

Thanks to all that participated!

Happy Anniversary and a Give*way!!

Yesterday, Pixies Don’t Have Wing’s 1st anniversary came and went with little fanfare.  To be honest, I almost forgot about it.

I’ve had a blast writing the posts and I hope my readers have enjoyed them as well. 

But I have to do something to celebrate the anniversary.

I mean, it would be so sad not to.

So, I decided to give something away.  

Rules (because there always has to be rules):

You need to leave a comment on this blog post.  Tell me what you like about faeries.  And if you don’t like faeries, tell me what you don’t like about them.  I promise to keep an open mind.  You have until 5:00 pm EST on Sunday (September 9th).  I will post the winner on Monday morning.

You don’t have to like my Facebook page or follow the blog (though both of those things would be great) to enter.  Just a comment.  It’s easy.  I'll pick someone at random.  Most likely I'll ask my husband to pick a number between 1 and whatever.  He's officially banned from entering.

What do you win?

I’ve thought about this for some time (like 10 minutes) and I decided on Brian Froud’s World of Faerie.  If you already have the book, you can still enter.  I’ll just come up with a different prize.

Can’t wait to hear what ya’ll have to say.

The Lorelei

Don’t I color well?  Yes, I did shade her legs.  Thanks for noticing! ;-)

Everyone has heard of the Greek sirens.  You know, those pesky but beautiful women that lure sailors to their death with their magnificent naked bods and their insidious songs.  Apparently the German’s, not to be outdone by the Greeks, needed a supernatural explanation for bad weather and poor navigation skills, too.

The Lorelei (sometimes spelled Loreley or Lore Lay) hail from the Rhine where they play the harp and sing sweet songs.  There seems to be some confusion (at least on my part) if there are multiple Lorelei or just one.  For the purpose of this exercise we are going to go with a drove of strumpet like Faeries that have nothing better to do than entice men to their death.  If a man sees a Lorelei, he instantly goes mad and/or blind. 

They sit on a rock of the same name and wait for a passing boat.  Like they have nothing better to do.  Just so you know, if I had these talents, I’d take the show to town and really rake in the dough.  Think bigger ladies!!  Just because someone put you on a rock doesn’t mean you have to stay there.  Just saying.

Puddlefoot

 

 

Last weekend I babysat a pair of five year old twins.  Okay, my husband and my mother-in-law helped.  I spent a good portion of Saturday afternoon sitting indian-style on the floor in front of a child’s size table coloring.  I probably hadn’t colored in 25 years, maybe longer.  I don’t think I appreciated it for what it was when I was a kid – a damn good excuse to zone out and relax.  Coloring is the ultimate de-stresser.

When I got home on Monday, I decided I wanted my own coloring books.  Amazon to the rescue!  Now I have five. (I know. I can’t just buy just one thought.)  Thanks to Dover Coloring Books I have three books with Faeries, one on Gargoyles and Medieval Monsters and even one with Vampires.

One of the coloring books inspired this week’s Faerie Friday post – Puddlefoot.  Please see picture about.  I know it’s not done yet, but I was running out of time.  I gave him pink and red shorts. :-)

Puddlefoot is a kind of Brownie that lives at Clochfoldich Farm in Scotland (somewhere outside of Tayside thought unless you know Scotland well will mean nothing to you.  It means nothing to me.)  As most good browies, he does a lot of household chores.  The only problem with Puddlefoot is he likes to go splashing around the pools of the Altmore Burn before going to work. He gets the work done, but he leaves wet little footprints everywhere. 

I don’t know about you folks, but I could forgive a few wet footprints for a clean house!

Tuscan Night Elves - The Linchetti

I keep a bunch of books on faerie lore tucked in places around the house. One of my favorites to browse through is Nancy Arrowsmith’s Field Guide to the Little People.  I must have looked through it four or five dozen times.  Last week I was thumbing through it as I often do and I came across a creature that I hadn’t noticed before – the Tuscan night elf known as the Linchetti.  I know it by one of its other names, Buffardello.  Yes, I just happen to like that name.

These night elves (also called Caccavecchia and Mazapegolo in other regions of Italy) have a nasty habit of climbing through keyholes and perching upon a sleeping person’s chest.  At two feet high and invisible, they are hard to detect, but nightmares and/or trouble breathing gives them away.  Their antics can kill an elderly person.  He doesn’t live in the house, but rather in the barn where he shows favoritism to certain animals while starving others.  He likes to braid the hair of horses, but those braids should never be undone.  He places all of the good qualities of the animal in the braids.

There are a few ways to get rid of the Linchetti:

1)   A person who is plagued by the Linchetti should leave a bowl of seeds on his/her chest while sleeping.  When the Linchetti tries to sit on the person chest, he will knock the seeds onto the floor.  The Linchetti can’t stand disorder (he suffers from OCD!)  He will spend the rest of the night trying to pick up the seeds one by one.

2)   You can assign him the task of straightening a curly hair.  He hates curly hair.

3)   This is my favorite.  If you suspect a Linchetto is bothering your rest, get out of bed and turn on the light.  While sitting on a chamber pot, eat some bread and cheese.  Between bites, recite these words: “To shit with the Linchetto! I eat my bread and cheese and shit on his face.”  He will be so disgusted he’ll leave never to be heard of again.  No, you really can’t make this stuff up.

The book goes onto tell a story of a young man and his troubles.  I won’t bore you with the details, but it involves multiple annulments, a seemingly impotent man, a dauntless young girl and a curly pubic hair.  I’m sure you can fill in the details.

A Fish Called Ceasg

I returned from RWA12 around midnight on Sunday. To say I was exhausted is an understatement, but it was the kind of exhaustion only reached when one has had the time of his/her life.  It was such a freaking awesome experience, one of which I will never forget.  Thanks to Jami Gold, Angela Quarles, Janice Hardy and all of those amazing women I met for the great week.  I hope to see you all again soon.

If you follow my blog regularly, you will notice a suspicious lack of posts in the month of July.  I decided to take the month off from my regular Faerie Friday posts. Granted, I neglected to tell anyone.  My bad.  I felt like I needed some sort of break.  It was hot and I was cranky. I’m feeling rejuvenated now that I am back though I do believe I am coming down with a cold.  Oh, well, you can’t meet that many people, get on that many planes and not contract a horrible death illness.  You just can’t.

Okay, so I should probably get on with it.  This week’s Faerie Friday post takes us to Scotland.  I love Scottish faeries.  Armstrong is a Scottish name in fact.  I remembered reading somewhere that in the 13^th century the Armstrong Clan could raise up 3000 fighting men.  That’s a lot of hairy, filthy Scottish men in kilts. Invictus maneo! (The Armstrong Clan motto – We remain unvanquished!)

Anyway, the Ceasg is my topic for the week.  Please don’t ask me how to pronounce its name.  I don’t know.  Sometimes I wonder if these names are elaborate jokes like the silly names for items in IKEA.  Swedish executives just want to get us to say Knubbig.  They are laughing behind our backs.

The Ceasg is the mermaid of the Scottish Highlands.  Sometimes she is called Maighdean na tuinne, or the Maiden of the Wave. She’s smokin’ hot from the waist up, but from the waist down, not so much.  She’s half salmon.  Like most faeries, she is not so nice.  In fact, she likes to lure men into the water so that she can kill them. Supposedly, she swallows them whole.  (I find that hard to believe since she has a human size mouth.  It’s not my job to make sense of these stories, just to report on them.)  If the man can catch the Ceasg, she will grant him three wishes.  She keeps her soul in a super-secret place outside of her body.  If you can find it, you can defeat her. 

So what do you think of the Scottish Highland mermaid?  Do you think you could catch her and obtain three wishes?  Did you miss me?  I missed you.

On my way #RWA12

I spent the past few weeks (read months) getting ready for the Romance Writers of America National Conference in

Anaheim (and neglecting my blogging duties.)  I’ve made a series of strange little lists (only a few were useful.)  I’ve made a ton of arrangements – flight, hotel, shuttle, registration.  I’ve bought new clothes, new shoes and a new purse.  I’m taking four days off from work and if you know me, that’s a big deal.  I’ve talked about it so much I’m sure my husband is sick of it and me.  I’m excited and a little stressed out.  I’m not even pitching at this event.  If I were, I’d be a puddle of nerves and insecurities.  Okay, I’m sorta of there already. 

I’m sitting in the airport now.  My flight to Chicago has been delayed.  We have no idea when we’ll be able to go.  Not a great way to start the conference, but I’m a big girl.  I’ll deal.

Tomorrow night (if I ever get the hell out of Albany) I will be attending the “Readers for Life” Literacy Autographing event.  Over 400 authors will be present.  I spent some time the other day going over the list.  I put the list away.  It was too much.

I knew there would 2000 plus writers/editors/agents (I’ll be one of them!), but I didn’t realize just how many great writers would be there. Big names like Nora Roberts, Julia Quinn, and Susan Elizabeth Phillips.  I’ve read Susan Elizabeth Phillips since I was 15 years old.  Yeah, back when I might have been a little too you to read them, but they shaped who I am as a writer.  I will always be grateful. 

One of my favorite lines of all time came from a Susan Elizabeth Phillips novel, Fancy Pants.  Okay, maybe a few of my favorite lines.  It was a great book.  In the opening chapter, the main character turns to her companion:  “Most babies are conceived in love, but I was conceived on a display platform in the center of Harrods’ fur salon.”  I realized then that you need humor in romance.

The Far Dorocha

For those of you who have been following my blog from the beginning, you may remember that I did “7 Days of Halloween” back in October.  I wrote a post for seven days that had something in it that frightened me.  I wrote about my fear of pigs, the Tailypo, even getting haunted in Savannah.  I had about a dozen ideas, but only seven days to write about them.  One of the faeries on the list was the Far Dorocha or Fear Dorocha.  You know the Irish, they can spell things a dozen different ways and each time it’s completely unpronounceable!

At the same time I was writing this series of blog posts, I was contemplating whether I would have the balls enough to attempt NaNoWriMo.  Yes, I did have the balls, steel balls in fact.  What did I have to lose?  The answer was nothing.  Only problem: What the hell was I going to write about?

I glanced over my blog notebook.  (I keep a notebook for notes on my posts and idea for future posts.)  I kept rereading the name Far Dorocha.  I was going to write a story about him.  And he wasn’t going to be the villain in the story.  He was going to be the hero.    My novel, The Dark Man, was born.

You see, the Far Dorocha isn’t exactly a good guy.  In fact, you can argue he’s a horrible guy.  Far Dorocha means Dark Man.  (I know.   My novel’s name isn’t very clever.  I’m open to suggestions.)  Everyone who studies faerie lore knows that the faerie queen likes to kidnap mortals.  Well, the Far Dorocha does the dirty work for her.  He rides up on his black stead and carts folks back to Faerie for her.  He can compel people to obey without uttering a single word.  He acts as a sort of butler serving the queen her tea.  Oh and he also punishes folks with a big mouths.  What does he do?  He blinds and/or maims them.  Charming really.

The Far Dorocha had the potential to be a complex and interesting character.  How did he become the Far Dorocha?  Did he like his job?  What was his relationship with queen like?  What would he say if he talked?  Does he like red or white wine?  How do the other faeries treat him?  Do they let him join in their faerie games?  The questions are endless.

A few weeks after I started writing The Dark Man (which back then was called Enlightened), I read about Karen Marie Moning’s graphic novel, Fever Moon: The Fear Dorocha.  (If you haven’t checked out the Fever series I would recommend it.  I only read the first book because it was free on my Nook.  I love free books.  I really loved this book.) 

My heard plummeted to into my shoes.  If you haven’t experienced this feeling, you are lucky.  I believe I had a mini-panic attack.  How could I compete with KMM?  The answer was I couldn’t.  Her Fear Dorocha is different from my Far Dorocha.  He appears to be the villain in her story.  I don’t picture him a black suit and tall top hat like she does.  I have seen a few panels from the graphic novel and her Fear Dorocha looks very much like how I picture Ankou, the Breton portent of death.  There seems to be some relationship been the Fear Dorocha and Ankou.  Anyway, I put on my big girl panties and got over it.

If you’d like to check out my inspiration board on Pinterest for The Dark Man, you can check it out here.

Repeat Faerie Friday Post - Bwca, Bwca, Bwca

I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize for my lackluster (and sometimes absent) Faerie Friday posts.  I liked the quick posts I did for the A to Z challenge, but now after reflection, I’ve decided that this is just making me a very lazy writer. 

Starting next week I’ll strive to be better.  Right now I am hot and cranky and I have little confidence that I can be my usual charming self.  Instead, I’ll share with you an old blog post that was one of my favs.   It’s from November’s Hairy Beastie Month. 

I hope you enjoy. 

Welcome to the last week of Hairy Beastie Month! I know I am two and a half days late. I blame it on pumpkin pie and sausage stuffing. (Speaking of sausage, I do realize that the Bwca in the picture above is exposing his boy-parts. I thought I’d get this out of the way. Laugh and point at the Naked Bwca. I did.)

The Bwca is a Welsh House Faerie, kind of like the English Brownie with a Boggart twist. The Brownie is a faerie that helps out around the house. Not to be confused with young roving-cookie-peddling division of the Girl Scouts. A Boggart is a poorly behaved house spirit who makes a general nuisance of himself (herself?)

The Bwca is short, about two to three feet high, with a long nose and long fingers. He’s described as being shaggy and resides in rural Wales. He doesn’t like teetotalers or clergy men. (I don’t either to tell you the truth.) He apparently doesn’t like people with long noses, either. (I bare no such grudge.)

Bwca’s are mainly known for churning butter. If anyone has tried to make butter, you know it’s a major time suck and not that much fun. Bwcas also do other chores around the house like weaving, laundry, and general household drudgery. He just asks that the hearth be clean and that you leave out a bowl of milk or cream out for him as a reward for a good day’s work.

Should be simple enough, right? A simple you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-your-back arrangement. If the Bwca is offended or slighted in anyway, he can turn horribly vicious pinching, throwing things, ripping clothes, sharing family secrets, banging loudly on the walls. There is a popular story about a woman who left a bowl of urine out for the Bwca who did all the dirty work in her house. The Bwca grabbed the tart by her throat and dragged her around the house, beating the stuffing out of her. As far as I am concerned, if you leave a stale bowl of urine out for someone as payment, you deserve anything you get! She had it coming.

Once a Bwca is offended, you get no more work from him. He sets about to make your life as unpleasant as possible. The only way to get rid of one is the hire a Cunning Man to use iron or holy water to chase the little shit away.

I’d like a Bwca. I’d ask him to put some clothes on first, but he’d be infinitely useful. The laundry is piling up after a month of general laziness and NaNoWriMo. I wonder if he could wrap Christmas presents and clean closets and run the vacuum.