Robin L. Cole's Blog
July 31, 2018
The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot has begun shipping!
I am super excited–and proud–to announce the release of my first tarot deck, The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot! This interdependently publish deck is now available through my Etsy shop, , in a limited edition run. Nearly a third of the 300 decks printed for this first edition run have sold through pre-orders (squee of joy!), and those orders were released into the world yesterday and are their way to their new homes.
Guys, this is such a huge accomplishment for me. I’ve been reading and collecting tarot for over two decades now (aaaaand I just made myself feel real old right there). It has been a passion of mine for just about as long as I can remember, and putting together this deck using such stunning artwork–another long-standing interest of mine–was such a wonderful, enriching experience. I am beyond excited to see how much love this deck has received in the months leading up to its release, and I can only imagine how much it will grow from here. (I’ve caught wind that there might be an unofficial “When Will Robin Need to Start a Second Edition” pool going among some local tarot readers already as well…)
Pre-Order Weekend (as July 28th and 29th of 2018 will now forever been known in our house) was a blast and went much smoother than I anticipated. (Take that, Mercury!) My wonderful husband, now dubbed Mr. Modern Mystic, pitched in for deck wrapping as I wax-sealed each deck. His hand-tied handy work was much appreciated and, I dare say, he did a better job that I could have done. With his aid, and the helping hands of my best buddies, we got all 90 decks up and out yesterday morning, and I can’t imagine having done it without them!
[image error]Mr. Modern Mystic is my hero for many reasons. His dedication to helping me with this deck is just one of them!
[image error]Our very posh deck-creating studio: a.k.a. our living room.
[image error]Yup–for those with keen eyes, that is Critical Role playing on the TV while we worked. Critter love knows no obstacles–even a 6ft table stacked high with tarot decks!
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And there she is–my personally curated, lovingly created, artsy-fartsy hand-made tarot deck. I all who purchase her love her as much as I do. I may be a tarot slut from way back, but this beauty has stolen my heart and I just can’t seem to put her down!
Copies of the deck are still available in my Etsy shop, and will also be available in my person for my NJ natives at the Soul Journey Release Party in Butler, NJ on Saturday September 8th. I will be attending and offering tarot readings at this year’s Ninefold Festival in Colorado Springs, CO and will have a small stock of decks available there as well.
PHEW! And that’s all for today’s announcements. Today I am a happy indie author/artist–but y’all know I can’t sit still for long! So, what’s next?
Another book or two, a hardcover art-style guidebook for The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot, another tarot deck (this one dedicated to shadow work, using vintage photography and a collage/scrapbook style) down the line… I have lots of creative goodies in the works and hope to be coming back to you soon with some new announcements and release dates!
In the mean time, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your love and support.
May 7, 2018
Niiiiiight of the Hunter: Chapter 1 Sneak Peek
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Yes, I sang that as I typed it. Yes, it is a reference to a 30 Seconds to Mars song. Here’s a little tidbit you may not have yet realized about my fiction… All of the book titles? They’re song titles too. I tend to get really into a particular album or band while writing a series and name each book for a song whose lyrics touched my heart.
Night of the Hunter is no different. In fact, this tale is probably the nearest and dearest thing to my heart. It is set in the first fantasy world I ever wrote in, with present-day incarnations of the first two characters I ever seriously wrote about. (Sorry Cat; I still love you, I promise!)
Lucian and Blackthorn are little bits of my younger self given pointy ears, much the way Caitlin is a version of me in my 30s, only with a lot more magic and excitement. (Though I’m pretty glad no trolls have come barreling into my mundane life). Same can be said for L&B I suppose. Their world is much more exciting than mine, though also much more difficult to traverse.
Anywho, as I slog through the editing/re-write stage of Night of the Hunter in anticipation of a winter release, I’m finding myself falling back in love with a tale I left unfinished almost a decade ago, and also find myself hoping it will soon capture the hearts of others as well.
Its a long way off from being ready to share, but I’m pretty happy with the opening as it stands. Here’s a sneaky peeky of the first chapter…
~*~
Night of the Hunter
1
When did I get soft?
A few years ago I would not have taxed myself to exhaustion trying to prove the parentage of some pompous border lord’s illegitimate child. I would have told him to stop frequenting such horrid establishments, where the women don’t know or care enough to prevent such things!
Blackthorn winced.
Apparently even thinking hurt.
He pressed a rolled cloth, freshly bathed in cold water, against his forehead and sighed. The chill felt blissful against his throbbing temples. His free hand groped for the glass he had set down beside the couch and, after a precarious false start that threatened to send an unfortunate cascade of burgundy across the floor, he brought the glass to his lips. It tasted like ambrosia.
After setting the glass back down, he rearranged himself on the settee with equal care. Despite being driven to distraction by the pounding of his head, he smoothed down the embroiled silk of his robe with instinctual care. Decorum insisted he look the best at all times, personal misfortunes notwithstanding, and that lesson was deeply instilled within him.
He had come into his empathic skills early in life, and had been trained from a young age in the distinguished calling of the Oainjyr: a servant of the High Lady dedicated to the healing of the heart and the arts of desire. It was something of a rarity for one of his skill to reside in a hum’an city, especially one so far flung as River’s Reach. While there had been some whispered discontent over such a scandalous trade being plied in their midst years prior—and by a man no less!—the townsfolk had come to see his presence among them as an unusual blessing.
The services an Oainjyr offered were held in the high regard among many and those who spent their coin on the company of one as proficient as he were often figures of some note. The traffic Blackthorn attracted to a burgeoning border city like River’s Reach fattened the pockets of many local tradesmen. Along with the inadvertent draw of his livelihood, he had become known for being Gifted, his kind heart and honest portents intriguing to those unable to afford, or otherwise uninterested in, his more exotic talents. Rarely did he fail to try to divine an answer when asked—even when common sense urged otherwise.
He moved his long auburn locks to the side with care, ensuring that they would not become tangled, and pressed the more tender side of his head against a pillow. The pressure felt good. He sighed. Once I had higher standards. Now? I push myself to pain without giving him so much as a mild tongue-lashing! He smirked softly. But in such troubling times, I lack the heart to turn any away.
Tension blanketed the kingdom of Caomh, his home away from the grandeur of the Elv’Íon court. After a long summer drought that had left the harvest withering in the fields, prices for even the most basic of foodstuffs soared. Many of the common folk were facing a harsh, hungry winter. As fear unfurled throughout the nation, many of the larger provinces were wracked by rebellion and others were left without the protection of the crown while the uprisings were quelled—a loss that many of the outlying towns felt all too well.
Few dared to travel along even the most well-worn of trade roads past dusk.
The unease had reached dizzying heights among those who lived along the passage of the Winding River, flush against the southern-most border of Caomh. Burdened by the threat of bandits lurking in their forests and an equally grim lack of food upon their tables, the country folk were especially susceptible to the trickery of fortune-telling charlatans. When bad tidings so frequently outnumbered the good, the desire to peek beyond the Veil to see what lay in the future intensified tenfold.
Self-proclaimed seers had cropped up by the dozens in city and village alike, drawn to the desperation in the air. Like vultures to fresh carrion, they fed greedily upon the ripe flesh of apprehension; leaving false hopes and empty promises in their wake. While the evils of men mingled with that of the monsters, none were safe.
Yet, even in such troubling times there existed honest folk who sought to right the ills done by the unscrupulous. It was whispered among them that the High Lord himself had touched those who possessed the true Gift and precious few could lay claim to that blessed touch. Blackthorn did not know if he considered himself lucky to be among those few. It certainly was hard to do so when his head felt ready to explode from exercising said Gifts.
A knock sounded at the outer door, resounding excruciatingly inside his head. Teeth gritted, he cursed the disturbance beneath his breath. His work was conducted by appointment only and random interruptions were not something he, or his clientele, tolerated lightly. He considered ignoring the caller, their purpose be damned, but the knock sounded again; faster this time. A wave of urgency broke through his pain.
Still muttering half-hearted curses beneath his breath, he peeled himself up from the settee with a wobbling lurch. His head and stomach both strongly protested the change in elevation. That would not do.
He gripped the edge of the seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath. With practiced ease, he found the calm pool at the center of his being and dipped down into its depths. A warm wash of energy spiraled upward and outward; dancing along his skin as it linked him to the faint pulse of the earth below. It soothed his pain like cool silk over bare skin; leaving behind little more than a dull ache. To soothe his own ills was a self-serving expenditure he rarely allowed himself, but tonight it served a purpose. Serenity settled upon his shoulders, a familiar mantle.
An Oainjyr’s work was never done.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the large, polished mirror on the opposite wall and paused to arrange his clothing and personage. His mixed heritage gave him a unique allure, combining the best of the Elv’Íon’s willowy grace with the exotically angular features of his mother’s nomadic kinfolk. A wrinkle was smoothed from a sleeve here; a stray eyelash flicked from porcelain skin lest it offend the visitor’s eye. A confidant twinkle gleamed in his startlingly clear jade-green eyes. And I always aim to please.
When he opened the door, he was surprises to see a ssisivihis waiting on his doorstep. He recognized the creature immediately, though it shocked him to see one of the reclusive forest dwellers in the heart of a hum’an city. Barely reaching his navel, the creature’s blunted snout protruded from the voluminous cowl of its hooded robe; luminous amber eyes regarding him curiously from within its depths. In the shadows of the shapeless garment, he was given only the barest hint of coppery brown scales, much in keeping with its travel-stained robes. When it pushed the hood back off its wedge-shaped head, he saw a telltale webbing beneath its lower jaw. A female.
“M’lady,” he said, jarring himself into action as he bowed to his unexpected guest. “Please forgive my stare. It was not my intent to be rude. I did not expect to find one of your people at my door this evening. How may I serve you?”
Her gaze did not waver as she asked in a rolling, sibilant voice, “I seek Lucian Knight. Might I speak with him? ”
The creature’s grasp of the elv’an tongue was surprisingly strong, despite her thick accent. Though their people had lived side-by-side for many years before the Fall of Ceann, few of the reptilian folk that he had met had reached such fluency. He shook his head. “I’m afraid he is not in residence at the moment, m’lady. He has been away for quite some time now.”
A glimmer of distress clouded the air about the diminutive creature, though there was no discernable emotion in her reptilian eyes. “Know you where he has gone?”
“No, I do not.” Although I can guess. He pushed back his own wave of frustration at the thought and kept his face impassive. “Perhaps I can be of service to you in his stead?”
The ssisivihis leaned in closer, giving him the feeling that he was being sized up. After a long, tense moment she straightened and said, “Perhaps. May you be Blackthorn of the clan Shevera?”
Interesting. This ssisivihis was not only fluent in his tongue. She was also familiar with the bloodlines of his mother’s people, the nomadic Elv’SiúilCé. An age and more had passed since their clans had split from the elv’an nations that had remained settled in Ceann; many more years than this creature had been alive. “Yes, I am he.”
There was no mistaking the relief that seeped into the creature’s aura. She nodded. “Then it is with you I will speak.”
Holding the door open wide, he ushered her inside. “It is my pleasure to serve you in any way I can m’lady. Please; enter. Come and rest while we converse.”
She hesitated for a moment, looking back over her shoulder before she nodded her assent. As she shuffled into the parlor, Blackthorn noted that she favored her right leg, her long prehensile tail compensating for a lopsided gait. Her garment was mottled with mud and the grime of travel, but a large patch along her left side appeared stiff and dark. It was dried blood, and plenty of it.
“Are you injured?” he asked. He made a gesture toward the hall that lead back to his working chambers. “I’m afraid my supply of herbs has run low thanks to the drought, but I have a few remedies at my dis–”
“That is not necessary.” The ssisivihis stopped in the center of the room, a dull tinge of unease swirling around her like a fine mist. Although her posture was weary, her gaze remained fixed on him. “Old is the hurt. There is nothing can you do for it now.”
She’s lying. He was certain of it. His empathy never lied. Something about the creature’s steady, unblinking stare weighed heavily on his heart, setting him on edge. The first stirrings of foreboding fluttered in his stomach. Clearing his throat with deliberate lightness, he said, “Very well then. Allow me the courtesy of being a gracious host, at least. Make yourself comfortable. I will fetch us refreshments.”
“No.” The tone of the ssisivihis’s voice froze him in mid-step. There was powerful conviction in that small body and yet that one word told him that her mettle was beginning to falter. He stood in awkward silence as the she rasped, “I must deliver the message.”
Danger.
A rolling wave of dread crashed against him, bringing back his earlier nausea in full force. He sank down into the closest chair, legs trembling. It took a few deep breaths before he could ask, “What message?”
“We can hold it no longer.” The ssisivihis’s eyes were no longer focused on him, though she continued to gaze in his direction. She took a deep, wheezing breath; her tiny frame wracked by a forceful tremor. “Give it to him and tell him we can hold it no longer.”
Confusion fogged the oppressing sense of apprehension, striking him dumb. “Give him what?”
The ssisivihis seemed to jolt from her stupor, her head cocked quizzically. She reached into the neck of her robe and withdrew a small package hardly larger than her tiny fist, wrapped tightly in hide and tied with a length of twine. She placed the parcel down on the low table next to the settee.
She hobbled back toward the door, repeating dazedly, “Tell him, fàidh. Tell him. We can hold it no longer.”
Fàidh. Prophet. Fear blossomed in his belly and he was shaken from his stupor. “Wait, I don’t understand! Tell who—Lucian? What am I—”
Even as the she reached for the door-handle, the lizard-woman crumpled like a rag doll dropped upon the floor. He sprang to his feet but his quick reflexes were for naught. Strength spent, her mission accomplished, the ssisivihis had given in to the specter of death that had hovered over her from the moment she had appeared on the doorstep. He knelt next to her still form, one hand pressed to his mouth, heart constricted by guilt. She gave her life to deliver this warning, and I never even learned her name.
The ssisivihis were all but unknown of in the kingdom of Caomh. Resistant to the tainted magics that had driven the elv’es from their homeland of Ceann, the stoic lizard-folk had remained behind; dedicating themselves to the preservation and containment of the wild woodland after the Fall. To see one nearly a world away from the borders of the ancient forest was unheard of. This one had travelled far and had paid the ultimate price for her boldness.
The curse of Ceann has stretched far indeed.
The ssisivihis and her mysterious message had stirred up a host of buried memories. A longing for the home his people had lost ached within him. For a few moments he was lost, adrift in a miasma of cluttered emotions; disbelief, homesickness, guilt, fear. Looking down upon the lizard-woman’s body, her open eyes empty, he wondered, Who would have done this?
His face contorted into a determined grimace. Saying a prayer for forgiveness, he lifted the muddied hem of the poor creature’s robe. Her left leg was heavily bandaged, wrapped in bloodstained strips of linen that had appeared to have been torn from some other garment.
Her cloak.
The memory formed in his mind, wispy as the owner’s life faded away but heartbreaking in its impressions. The blur of swiftly passing trees, the whistle of labored breathing, a heart heavy with loss; a mind frantic with the expectance of impending doom—the desperate fear of prey’s flight.
She was alone; her companion killed. She had to flee, leaving her supplies with him. It’s a miracle she even made it this far!
His fingers danced over the surface of the rough bandage, hesitant with sudden squeamishness. I do not want to see what lies beneath—but I have no choice. I need answers. Gritting his teeth, he undid the knot with nimble fingers and drew the bindings apart.
The sickly sweet scent of decay caused him to recoil. He cupped a hand over his nose and mouth to suppress the gag that rose in his throat. The ssisivihis’s scaly hide was torn asunder from hip to knee. Infection had set in long ago and when her body had failed to heal the wound, the flesh beneath had begun to spoil. The greenish cast of the fluids leaking from the wound turned his stomach. He tucked the bandages back in place, covering the lizard-woman with her robe once more. His jaw was clenched near to aching.
Poison, I’d bet my life on it. It must have been on whatever caused that wound. Lord and Lady be blessed; somebody was determined to kill her. They didn’t want her to make it to Lucian. But… why?
A chill slithered down the back of his neck. He pivoted and found himself gazing at the small package the ssisivihis had placed on the table before she had fallen. The world seemed to crawl in slow motion as he rose and approached the table, eyes locked on the parcel. He picked it up and turned it over and over in his hands as he mused, What could be so important?
It only a moment, his innate curiosity won out over common sense. Lucian would have showed it to me, he reasoned. Unraveling the cord, he smoothed the wrapping out upon his palm, thin brows furrowed as he regarded the object within. A key?
Composed of worn wrought iron, the key was clearly of elv’an make. Ornate as only his people could make the most common of objects, the head of the key was a work of art. Among the continuous loops and spirals laid the carefully fashioned design of a bird frozen in flight.
She died to give Lucian a key. To what? And where would that “what” be? And just why is that “what” so important that someone had to kill the poor thing in an attempt to prevent it from getting to him? He plucked the key from the wrappings to lift it up for a closer inspection.
There was no time to scream.
The breath was stolen from his lungs and his body bowed as if he had taken a punch to the stomach. He crumbled to the floor, a whiplash of pain setting every nerve afire; gasping for air. The world darkened around him as he was violently thrown into a vision, the edges of his sight obscured by tendrils of mist and painfully iridescent light.
A vortex of energy swirled around him, its pull frightfully strong. It threatened to whirl him away to be lost forever in the darkness beyond time should he lose control. He gritted his teeth and held on with force of will alone; the only thing he could cling to in the vast, featureless darkness.
The mist thickened, swallowing him, cloaking the world in fog. Images emerged ever so slowly—only flashes at first. His cozy parlor; fire glowing merrily. The common room at the Hooded Falcon, filled with friendly faces. The small woodland grove he and Lucian liked to visit, bright and sunny on a summer’s day.
Each one tempted him, promising safety if he would reach for them. He held firm, ignoring their pull; ignoring the darkness. It was a trap that claimed many untrained seers, a horrible fate of being forever caught in the tensile spider’s web that was the Veil between worlds. He would not be so easily fooled.
As that Veil began to part, layer by layer in a sensuously slow dance, the new world around became clearer; the colors more saturated, like paint spilling across a canvas. Trees appeared. Ancient, claustrophobically cluttered trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Even as the vision settled into place the mist remained; creeping around the edges of his sight, fraught with flashes of things half-seen. He ignored them and focused straight ahead on the forest that slumbered. An expectant feeling hung in the air, clinging to the leaves above him, to the blades of grass beneath his feet. Hope intermingled with an underlying current of dread.
Something stirred deep within.
Something had already awakened.
Something was coming.
The landscape around him changed swiftly, dragging him along in dizzying haste. The blackness of the beyond tinged his sight, riding a wave of vertigo. He swallowed it down and clung to consciousness with single-minded determination. To lose his hold now could spell disaster.
The brisk ride came to a halt as abruptly as it had begun as he was dropped down upon a weathered stone walkway thick with the grime of long disuse.
The sense of dread grew greater still.
All around him were the ruins of grandeur; a city long abandoned and given over to wild growth. Soaring archways and towers of white stone were overrun with thick, thriving vines and the remnants of a hundred cycles of nature’s seasons. Saplings had grown up through broken roadways, pushing aside the cobblestones as they reached toward the sky above. The buildings had fared no better. Their artful stonework was crumbling; their decorative murals faded.
Blackthorn looked back over his shoulder to see a fountain at the center of a small square, its basin cracked and empty. Beyond, more collapsing structures hid in the gloom. All about him was the pale shadow of former glory.
A vague sense of familiarity persisted through his confusion. He turned his attention back to the building before him. The walls, once richly painted, had faded into nearly unrecognizable washes of color, though its tastefully ornate stonework remained largely intact. Mesmerized, he stared up at the heraldry that stretched across the large archway leading up to the manse. The creature was a long-legged bird poised to take flight; it’s down curved bill open in a cry. Forever caught mid-leap in its cage of stone, the insignia was mottled now with age and harsh weathering, much like everything else in the forgotten city. A patina of moss coated its intricately carved feathers; rusty stains ran from its eyes like tears.
Something stirred.
The world shuddered. The carpet of debris littering the city rustled in indignation. Loose stonework sent a rain of dust into the air, while the more stable buildings groaned impotent threats. The city street seemed to buck beneath his feet, sending him to his knees. It was difficult to breath as the air filled with fragments of stone and plaster, caught up in the swirling mist. He was not alone. There was life in the forgotten city, buried deep; slumbering and overlooked.
Something had awakened.
Dread tingled along his nerves like the stinging passage of fire ants. He felt more than heard his name whispered, carried on the wind; quickly lost in the tangling threads of the mist. A deliberate presence brushed up against his senses.
His heart raced. Something was alive within the woods—perhaps within the city itself. A surge of power that rolled over him choked him with its intensity.
The world went dark. He fell into a void, sucked down into a cavern deep below the sleeping city’s streets. The darkness throbbed around him like a beating heart, thick with the lifeblood of forgotten magic. There were eyes in the darkness, watching and waiting. Eyes that knew him. He could feel the expectation in their gaze; could feel the pull as they beckoned him to join them in the blackness. He would have cried out, had he a voice; would have wept with fear, had he tears.
Again the world tilted and swirled. The darkness danced with mist, forming a cacophony of light and shadow as he was thrown half a world away from the decaying remains of the deserted city.
A beach. Brackish waves lapped against a shore that was as much rock as it was gray sand. Trees loomed not far from where he stood, marking the edge of a lost world. They were the only protection left for the lost city.
Something was coming.
The sun was setting. It painted the sky in a collage of orange and red over the heaving ocean. Fire on the water. Shapes darkened the horizon, silhouetted against the flaming sky. Longboats, built low and hearty for speed against the treacherous current. They were far out at sea, but there was no doubting their destination. A small party, yes; but one with a mission. A purpose.
Death.
A scream tore itself from Blackthorn’s lips. Spit mercilessly out into reality, he felt the solid floor of the parlor floor beneath him and pressed his palms against it for reassurance. Warm blood trickled from one nostril, mixing with the salty trail of tears to leave a familiar coppery tang upon his tongue. Great breaths heaved his parched lungs as he rolled onto his stomach and pressed his forehead against the cool wood. In time, the world came back into focus around him.
Muscles quivering, he pushed himself up and sat back on his heels; soaking in the familiar normalcy of his home. The dull ache that followed such an intense vision swathed his mind, his extremities working by instinct alone as he wiped away tears and stemmed the flow of blood from his nose. There were no words to describe the bone-deep weariness that settled like a leaden blanket about his shoulders.
Ceann.
The thought felt distant, insubstantial and untouched by reality. His stomach churned; a visceral response that could not be ignored. That was Ceann. I saw it! I had almost forgotten how beautiful she had been…
Ceann had once been the sparkling jewel of the elv’an crown; the first and most glorious of the far-flung elv’an nations. The Elv’Íon, the last to inhabit the fabled city left to them by their forefathers, had abandoned her near a century ago, driven out by magic gone rogue. Those who survived the Fall had fled, leaving the city to fall into ruin. None had dared return in the many years since.
A shudder coursed through his body. The memory of The Fall was strong, though he had been hardly more than a child at the time, newly thrust into his Oainjyr training. Harsh memories like those engrained themselves deeply and he, like many of his kin, still struggled to forget.
Lord and Lady, I saw her as she must be now. Lost; forgotten—a shadow of her former glory…
His brow furrowed and the pain of it made him wince. He rubbed at his forehead absently. No. Not lost. I wasn’t alone there. I don’t know who—or what—it was, but I felt something buried beneath the city. Something alive and waiting. Something beneath…
Realization struck light lightning.
That bird! He scrabbled about for the fallen key. He picked it up with caution, relieved when it showed no trace of its previous power. He examined the ornate ironwork with a critical eye.
That’s an ibis; the symbol of House Knight. A cold knot of dread coiled in his belly. Aile niurin! I think this is the key to the Knight estate in Ceann.
Whoever they are, they knew of its existence and murdered those poor creatures to stop them from putting it in Lucian’s hands. He squeezed the metal tightly, feeling its hard edges bite into his palm.
Suddenly Lucian being overdue for his return home took on a much more ominous light.
March 5, 2018
Projects & Progress: March 2018
[image error]I have to start this off by saying, to all The Warding’s fans, I’m sorry. I failed you last year. I really meant to have the The Last Dance, book three in the series, finished and published in 2017. Sadly, that did not happen. For whatever reason, this part of the story has taken me a lot more effort to write than the first two installments. This part of the tale is just super slow going for me, and I don’t have a good excuse for that. I’m really hoping this means its going to be a stellar installment when all is said and done (and worthy of the wait!) but, in the meantime–I’m sorry to make you wait.
I myself am not a patient person when it comes to waiting for the next book in a series I love. I chomp at the bit something fierce and hate disappointment –especially when a date gets promised and moved, promised and moved… (::coughgeorgiecough::)
So to know I left you all hanging at the end of Faster really does fill me with disappointment in myself. I want to be better than that–but I also won’t rush a story for the sake of getting it out faster (no–the irony is not lost on me there). I intend to make sure The Last Dance worth every single extra day you wait for it!
In the meantime, while Cat and I argue about her journey through the world of faery, I have been at work on other things. This year promises to bring some exciting new projects to life. In 2018 I will be branching out to two new realms: tarot deck creation and a more traditional (yet anything but) sword n’ sorcery fantasy series.
Before I get into the exciting new projects I’m going to be working on, I wanted to note how I intend to use this blog going forward. Its obvious that I’m terrible on updating it! I will be making a concentrated effort to come back here regularly, with quarterly Projects & Progress updates, in addition to announcing any new release dates and giveaways being held. I’m also planning to post some sneak peeks of content as it comes and let down my hair to show you a bit of what goes on behind the scenes in my #girlboss life too, so please don’t give up on my sad little blog–I’m going to try to breathe some new life back into it!
Onward to the projects currently being worked on!
The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot
I’ve mentioned before that tarot is near and dear to my heart, and some of you might also already know that I sling cards and run a tarot reading subscription service over on Etsy. (If not, well–hi! I do!) What started out as a little passion project for my eyes only soon became a gorgeous medieval art deck that I just knew had to be shared with others. A lot of tinkering went into this project, and and I’m proud to say it got better and better with each iteration. The deck itself is complete and ready for print, and the guidebook that will accompany it is nearing completion as well. So, The Beautiful Rebellion tarot will be coming out August 1st, 2018.
Featuring the artwork of masters like Dante Gabriel Rossetti, John Everett Millais, Edmund Blair Leighton, John Collier, John William Waterhouse, and more, this deck will come in a hand-stamped, ribbon and wax sealed tuckbox, and feature a 100+ page (and growing!) full-color PDF guidebook.
Stay tuned for more details and sneak peaks as they become available here and on my Instagram!
The Legacy of the Tse’yekana Book 1: Night of the Hunter
As for the new book series, this is also something close to my heart that I am excited to share with all of you. Waaaay back in the day, before Caitlin was a twinkle in my eye, a dear friend and I wrote copious tales of elves and dragons set in a fantasy world of our own imagining. I feared those sword n’ sorcery fantasy tales–reminiscent of the days of Dragonlance, and written long before either of us had strengthened our writing chops–would never see the light of day.
However, something was calling me back to them; to that wonderful world we had created decades ago. I’m glad that I took the chance and revisited that world, dusting off its bones and seeing the potential (ugh, that word!) that they possessed. I’m happy to say the first book in The Legacy of the Tse’yekana is ready to meet fans of character driven fantasy fiction. More details will be forthcoming on that as well, as well as some teaser chapters over the next few weeks. Projected publication date for Night of the Hunter is late in the year and will be updated as soon as it is available.
Project Progress
The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot
Deck
100%
Guidebook
85%
The Legacy of the Tse’yekana
Book 1: Night of the Hunter
75%
The Warding
Book 3: The Last Dance
25%
Projects & Progress
[image error]I have to start this off by saying, to all The Warding’s fans, I’m sorry. I failed you last year. I really meant to have the The Last Dance, book three in the series, finished and published in 2017. Sadly, that did not happen. For whatever reason, this part of the story has taken me a lot more effort to write than the first two installments. This part of the tale is just super slow going for me, and I don’t have a good excuse for that. I’m really hoping this means its going to be a stellar installment when all is said and done (and worthy of the wait!) but, in the meantime–I’m sorry to make you wait.
I myself am not a patient person when it comes to waiting for the next book in a series I love. I chomp at the bit something fierce and hate disappointment –especially when a date gets promised and moved, promised and moved… (::coughgeorgiecough::)
So to know I left you all hanging at the end of Faster really does fill me with disappointment in myself. I want to be better than that–but I also won’t rush a story for the sake of getting it out faster (no–the irony is not lost on me there). I intend to make sure The Last Dance worth every single extra day you wait for it!
In the meantime, while Cat and I argue about her journey through the world of faery, I have been at work on other things. This year promises to bring some exciting new projects to life. In 2018 I will be branching out to two new realms: tarot deck creation and a more traditional (yet anything but) sword n’ sorcery fantasy series.
The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot
I’ve mentioned before that tarot is near and dear to my heart, and some of you might also already know that I sling cards and run a tarot reading subscription service over on Etsy. (If not, well–hi! I do!) What started out as a little passion project for my eyes only soon became a gorgeous medieval art deck that I just knew had to be shared with others. A lot of tinkering went into this project, and and I’m proud to say it got better and better with each iteration. The deck itself is complete and ready for print, and the guidebook that will accompany it is nearing completion as well. So, The Beautiful Rebellion tarot will be coming out August 1st, 2018.
Featuring the artwork of masters like Dante Gabriel Rossetti, John Everett Millais, Edmund Blair Leighton, John Collier, John William Waterhouse, and more, this deck will come in a hand-stamped, ribbon and wax sealed tuckbox, and feature a 100+ page (and growing!) full-color PDF guidebook.
Stay tuned for more details and sneak peaks as they become available here and on my Instagram!
The Legacy of the Tse’yekana Book 1: Night of the Hunter
As for the new book series, this is also something close to my heart that I am excited to share with all of you. Waaaay back in the day, before Caitlin was a twinkle in my eye, a dear friend and I wrote copious tales of elves and dragons set in a fantasy world of our own imagining. I feared those sword n’ sorcery fantasy tales–reminiscent of the days of Dragonlance, and written long before either of us had strengthened our writing chops–would never see the light of day.
However, something was calling me back to them; to that wonderful world we had created decades ago. I’m glad that I took the chance and revisited that world, dusting off its bones and seeing the potential (ugh, that word!) that they possessed. I’m happy to say the first book in The Legacy of the Tse’yekana is ready to meet fans of character driven fantasy fiction. More details will be forthcoming on that as well, as well as some teaser chapters over the next few weeks. Projected publication date for Night of the Hunter is late in the year and will be updated as soon as it is available.
Project Progress
The Beautiful Rebellion Tarot
Deck
100%
Guidebook
85%
The Legacy of the Tse’yekana
Book 1: Night of the Hunter
75%
The Warding
Book 3: The Last Dance
25%
August 17, 2017
The Modern Mystic Shop is live and you can save 10% with WELCOME10!
When I’m not writing fiction, I’m often slinging cards as a tarot reader. It probably surprises no one here that I am allllllllll about the #girlboss life! I will never giving up that dream of one day leaving my day job to write and read for you all full time instead! So, to my can’t-stop-won’t-stop mentality, the next logical step was to push my tarot reading up to the next level, giving me that extra income that will (maybe) allow me to spend more time writing and less time answering phones in the near future!
This month, I officially launched my own Etsy shop, loving called The Modern Mystic after my quirky brand of personal spirituality. A wide variety of customized tarot readings are available (with more being added all the time), as well as my most exciting new pet project: a monthly tarot subscription box!
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Ain’t she pretty?!
To celebrate this much anticipated launch, and to thank each and every one of you beautiful souls for your continued support of my wacky little Warding world, I invite you to stop on by and take a look at the other passion in my life. From now until October 14th, you can use the code WELCOME10 to receive 10% off ANYTHING in the shop… including the multi-month tarot box subscriptions and a one of a kind custom tarot reading!
I think its pretty cool and hope you will to. Head on over and take a look. Tell your friends. Keep being awesome.
And have no fear; I haven’t forgotten Caitlin. She and I spent far too much of this year not seeing eye to eye, but I’m feeling myself again and am finally back to steady work on The Last Dance. The next installment of The Warding will be out in early 2018. Later than I wanted, but not by too terribly much. Promise.
May 31, 2017
Progress, at long last!
After a long creative drought, there is a lot going on in the mind and world of Robin L. Cole these days!
I’m (finally) hard at work on the third book of The Warding: The Last Dance. It took me much longer than I would have liked to get my footing in this one, but I have no one to blame but myself. Like Cat, I wasn’t prepared to be dropped into the middle of faery and needed to do some backtracking to figure out where I was headed. I’ve dug myself out of the weeds now and am hopeful for a late winter 2017 release. If I cannot get The Last Dance out before December, I will do my best to aim for January. So save up some of that holiday present $$$ and be prepared!
In addition to my next urban fantasy work (which I hope is eagerly anticipated), I am currently at work on three (yes, three!) non-fiction projects as well, all of which are near and dear to another passion of mine: Tarot.
The first book, co-authored by the amazing Valerie Colangelo, will be a workbook of sorts, featuring fun games and thought provoking exercises meant to help you learn to intuitively read your deck of choice. We’re working on balancing out the work and the play, and the first draft is looking good. No title has been settled upon as of yet. Expect to hear more about this fun venture in late 2017!
The other written project–which will not see the light of day until 2019, by my current best guess–is my personal take on a tarot-based spiritual practice, which I am calling The Path of the Modern Mystic. This book is largely based on the experiences I have had and the practices I hold close to my heart as a modern day pagan who relies heavily upon the use of tarot in her day to day practice.
The last project–which is likely going to be the most time consuming and is the biggest departure from my fiction writing–is the creation of my own “ritual deck,” a system along the lines of an oracle deck that can be used ritual work. This deck is something I started creating for myself, as my personal practice evolved and simplified, but I think it might appeal to a broader audience by the time it is done. I envision this deck being used in conjunction with The Path of the Modern Mystic, though it in no way replaces Tarot!
I have started the concept artwork for this deck, using watercolor markers as my format of choice. It will also be around deck. My reasoning for this was artistic at first. The first cards I was drawn to create were moon phases and cards pertaining to the pagan Wheel of the Year, as those were simple representations I wanted for my ritual altar that “normal” Tarot decks were missing. Then, the more I thought on it, the more a circular card made sense. The most important works of a witch happen within a circle. This shape was just meant to be for this deck.
Here’s a little sneak peak into my concept art sketchbook for the latest card I worked on: the New Moon:
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So, this project is a loooooong way from final deck creation, but its speaking to my soul quite strongly and I can’t wait to share its progress with all of you. If you’d like to see images of this deck as it progresses, keep an eye on my Instagram. I hope to have this deck finished in 2019 as well, but as of now–no promises yet!
That’s it for now. There’s a lot going on these days and a lot of fun things coming in the days ahead! I’ve got more stories floating around in my noggin for Caitlin and Co. as well, so don’t think The Last Dance is the last you’ll see of them! If y’all want to keep reading her tales, I will certainly keep writing them.
I will try to post more frequent updates on Facebook as well as posting regularly on Instagram so you can all keep an eye on the progress of your favorite projects. I might even resurrect this sorely neglected blog. Who knows!
Much love to you all. Until next time…
May 1, 2017
See me at New York Comic Con Oct. 5-8!
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My most favorite time of the year approaches once again–New York Comic Con!
I will be attending all four days again this year. This is my first year attending under my “professional” banner and, not gonna lie–I shed a few tears when NYCC graced me with a pro pass. I owe that all to you wonderful people. I couldn’t be doing this without you! Each and every one of you who are reading The Warding, enjoying Caitlin’s tale, and patiently (or maybe not so patiently) waiting for the next installment are my heart and soul.
As a thanks for all of the love and support you’ve shown me, I have some nifty Warding swag in the works for fans new and old that I will be giving out at NYCC. ::the maniacal cackle goes here:: Sneak peaks and teasers will be shown on my social media over the next few months.
So; are you attending New York Comic Con? Are you as excited for it as I am??
If so, shout it out! Come find me and show me some Warding love!
October 25, 2016
Fast is now available and First Hunt is free!
Faster is now live and available for purchase!
To purchase Faster, please check out the Books section on my website, or follow one of the handy dandy links I will be inserting right here. You can purchase Faster in eBook form on Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and Kobo, or as a paperback sold exclusively at Amazon.com.
Also–in honor of the release of the next part of Caitlin’s adventure, her short story First Hunt is free for the rest of this week. Grab a copy of that too if you haven’t already and find out what, exactly, happened the night of her first hunt.
I hope you all enjoy reading Faster and I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!
September 29, 2016
Iron Turns 1 Today
Iron turns one today and… Wow, what a year it has been!
When I made the decision to blaze the indie trail and put my first novel out there for better or worse, I had pretty modest hopes. I honestly just hoped it would sell one copy to someone who didn’t already know me! Beyond that? I hardly dared to hope that it would sell a few hundred copies; enough to recoup what I had spent in the production and see me through the publishing of a sequel.
Well, within a few months that little book o’ mine far out shot my wildest dreams, selling thousands of copies instead of hundreds. And that, my virtual friends, is all thanks to you. If not for you, taking a chance in picking up a new tale from an unknown author, I wouldn’t be writing this post today. I really cannot express how much your feedback about, appreciation for, and general support of Iron has meant to me. In Faster (due out next month!) I dedicated that book to each and every one of you–and I meant it. Without you, there would be no me. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
When I decided to tough it out on the indie road to publication, it was a choice based on realistic expectations. I knew I was rolling the dice with Caitlin as my first person heroine. She’s a character that will be either loved or hated–and, so far, I’ve seen a fair amount of both. Each time someone complains about her whining or her frequent pity parties, I smile. It doesn’t bother me, although one might think it would. Instead, it proves to me that I captured her spirit perfectly–and that’s a spirit not everyone is going to understand.
To understand Cat (and why I’m perfectly okay with people rolling their eyes at her personality), you have to understand me. I was a strange, shy child. I had wild imaginary friends (the one I remember most being a pterodactyl), loved collecting and playing with Battle Beasts, and my favorite part of the Wizard of Oz was the flying monkeys. So, I was probably not your typical little girl.
I also grew up as an avid reader. As far back as I can remember, I’ve enjoyed time spent with a good book much more than I did the company of other people. (Still do, really.) Lucky for me, my father was a big fantasy reader and introduced me to reading early. I was devouring Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels by the 4th grade, despite those around me teasing me for “reading the dictionary.” (Kids can be so mean.)
Without that, who knows what would have happened to me. I was an introvert from the get-go, saddled with social anxiety and crippling panic attacks that no one around me really understood at the time. Fantasy, and later urban fantasy, were what kept me sane; kept my wild imagination growing, kept me from feeling like I was alone in the world. Books were–and still are–my escape.
I’m really not so much different now. Maybe by now I shouldn’t need an escape anymore, but I do. I’m still an anxiety ridden, depression prone mess. Better at controlling both, sure, but still not the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger or fond of jumping into new situations. This year I’ll be attending New York Comic Con alone for two days and that is a huge step for me. Mindbogglingly big, really. The me of three years ago would never for a second considered doing something so bold… or frightening!
Hell, I turned 35 this year and up until making the decision to throw caution to the wind by putting my work out there, I had no freaking clue what I was doing with my life. I have a wonderful marriage and a husband that I adore but, beyond that? All those normal “should have” pieces of adulthood are still missing. I found myself in my mid-thirties, still searching for a career, not owning a home, not even wanting kids and a picket fence the way all of my friends did. I was the odd woman out, as per usual. Then I thought, “Certainly I can’t be alone in that…”
That “what if” snowballed into Iron. Though I didn’t really know I was doing so at the time, I created Caitlin to both speak to the girl I once was and the woman I had grown into. The mouthy yet shy introvert; the dreamer who longed for excitement but who also feared change; the woman who wanted to believe in the fantastic but couldn’t quite accept anything that special happening in her life. Caitlin is a contradiction trying to make the best of what life is throwing at her. She’s far from perfect and she knows it, but she fights every day to make sense of the pieces sifting through her fingers. Not everyone will understand that; will understand her.
That’s okay. They’ve probably never had to fight off the black dog; ignoring that little voice inside that tears them down and tells them lies. They’ve likely never spent an hour or two locked in their own bathroom, trying to talk themselves into heading out the door to attend that big party where so many strangers will be. And that’s just fine. She’s not for them. I created Cat for those of us who know we are a little broken but hold no shame in it. For those of us who fail and keep on trying anyway. For those of us who know we could still be the hero of our story, if the impossible were to happen to us.
So, again, thank you to each and every one of you who has identified with Cat; who have emailed me or left such amazing reviews telling me, and the world, how much you love her and her story. Its those words that fuel me early each morning when I stumble over to the writing desk, barely able to see straight enough to brew that first cup of coffee (all hail the Keurig). It’s those words that keep up my motivation, making sure I get those words out first thing on the next story, and the next after that.
It’s you that I keep doing this for, and I’ll keep doing it so long as you want to know what happens next.❤
September 26, 2016
Enter the GoodReads Giveaway for IRON and FASTER!
Can’t wait a month for the release of Faster?
Enter my GoodReads Giveaway to win 1 of 2 signed sets of both Iron and Faster, before it’s available for purchase!
Please share this post and tell anyone you think might like to get their hands on the first two book of The Warding about this giveaway.
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Faster
by Robin L. Cole
Giveaway ends October 11, 2016.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
