April Aasheim's Blog, page 6

Why I Love Maggie Maddock

   When I first came up with the idea for The Witches of Dark Root, the concept was more in the character. I wanted to create a character that wasn' particularly nice, but at least interesting. I had just come off writing The Universe is a Very Big Place and the Main Char in that story was Spring Ryan, the sweet nice innocent who for the most part allowed the world to tell her how to live her life.

Now, I admit there's a lot of biography woven between the comedic passages in Universe. I was always the sweet girl, the pretty blond girl, the compassionate one. And because of that I often found myself entangled in not-so-healthy relationships with no idea how I got there. Eventually, I'd put my foot down and that would be that. Relationship over. Not necessarily the best way to live, but that's a story for another day.

So when creating Maggie Maddock I wanted a completely new type of character. No nice girl here. She needed to be biting, sarcastic, witty, intelligent, and fiery. She couldn't balk at a challenge or let anyone walk over her. In fact, she was determined never to get close enough to anyone to get hurt (and of course she did).

But even scarred, Maggie was a fighter. And it would take more than a childhood ghost or a bad boyfriend to keep her down. She wasn't as pretty as Eve or smart as Ruth Anne or as kind as Merry, but she has determination and spirit, and was ultimately the rock that brought her family back together.

I really had to tap into Maggie to write this. In fact, it took me several months of just trying out voices until I found the right one. And (once again, irony) I was startled to find that it was my voice, the one I used to have before society told me to always be polite, accepting, and gracious because its rude for a woman to speak her real mind. And as I tapped into that part of me I also realized I  missed it. There's power there when you stand your ground. And though Maggie is often misguided and has a hair trigger temper, she also has real power beyond the metaphysical, abracadabra kind.

Maggie isn't the strongest witch in the Daughters of Dark Root because she's the most magical; she's the strongest because she's the most authentic. I think that's why she's so interesting. She speaks her mind, even when her opinions aren't popular. She stands up for her family and friends, even when she's fearful. And she'll never fail to tell  you when you aren't playing fair (even when she isn't necessarily playing fair herself).
 

One thing I hadn't counted on when writing her story-was how much she would change. Over the course of the series, she's not only evolved, but become sympathetic (at least in my opinion). Yes, she's often angry but readers find  out its because she's guarded. And yes she's a smart ass, but readers find out its because she's afraid of being exposed. And yes, she'll complain about every task put upon her, but if she's doing it for the people she loves (including herself) she'll put her entire self into the task.

I love Maggie so much that it's hard to leave her and Dark Root at the end of each book. She has become a part of me but her complex character is relatable to most women. She's jealous, possessive, self-righteous, sarcastic, and apathetic. She's also sassy, generous, humble, shy, insecure, loving, and even nurturing.

Maggie is a never-ending, constant swirl of emotion, teetering and tottering the line (just like her warlock father), hoping to achieve balance. But at her core she is a character driven by love, love of self, community, and family. (and sometimes even a dead guy she's brought back to life)

Back!

I survived the weekend with my mother. Well, five days actually. It was nice 'in retrospect' meaning I was glad I was there but Im happier to be a grown up living on my own.

She made 'casserole' and I felt bad because I started laughing when she presented it to me. I told her I didn't eat much meat lately so she layered tortilla chips, macaroni and cheese, creamed corn, and more cheese into a huge yellow pile and baked it. Why did I laugh? I don't know. Maybe its because I havnt eaten anything marked 'casserole' since I was a kid. Or maybe it was because my mother was back in her role playing mom and I was back in mine playing obnoxious, eye rolling teenager.

Parents are great to visit. I love them. But staying with them is trying at times. She lectured me on clothes and makeup and I told her she didn't understand the times.

There is one thing we agreed on: Netflix is awesome.

At least there was something to bridge the gap.

Mothers and Daughters

It's 5 in the morning and I'm sitting on an Amtrak train, on the way to see my mom.
I feel sick.
Being alone with my mom for several days, just the two of us (and her purse dog), is difficult for me.
But I love my mom. Should it be so hard?

After everything I've written about mother/daughter relationships I still don't fully understand them. I keep writing, hoping I'll understand.

Maybe its the way my mom thinks everything is a conspiracy (The Republicans know she's outing them and are therefor thwarting her efforts to get online by stealing her Wi-Fi)

Or the fact that she labels everyone (Allz I know is that I once met a (insert racial/ethnic background here) family and they were (insert typical stereotype).

Or maybe its the part where she starts to tell a story and ends up telling about ten different stories, never giving me closure on the first one.

It could be any of those things. But perhaps all daughters feel that way. It might be a generational thing.

But if I really dig deep I know the truth, the source of my difficulties. It's because my mom's rewritten my history for me. The childhood I remember is not the childhood she remembers. We live in two different realities and until those realities are reconciled it will never be easy to go for a 'long visit' because these visits are laced with tales that never actually happened.

Maybe she should be the writer instead of me.

The Daughters of Dark Root Series

The Daughters of Dark Root Series.

Books 1-3 FREE to read with Kindle Unlimited or Amazon Prime. Or just 3.49 to download each.



Start your magical journey with magic, mystery, and sisterly mayhem. HERE

It Goes Where?

Once again I'm journeying into the realm of writing romance. Or should I say Paranormal Romance.

I'm not a great romance writer, I'll admit it. The sexual tension stuff is fine but when it comes to the characters actually 'doing it' my writing gets clunky and technical. I have to stop and think now what happens next and what fits where? You would think I'd never done this before!

Hopefully, it will all turn out. There's only one or two scenes in my book and I will ask my husband to proof read it first. For some strange reason, he's good at breaking up these scenes and telling me what's missing. I'll just be happy that he doesn't do this in real life.

So...look for a semi-steamy scene or two in The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon. It will be out this fall. And for those of you who read paranormal romance, you can let me know if I'm doing it right.

Butt...

The husband and I were supposed to have date night tonight, but that turned into eating cereal out of salad bowls and watching an Indie movie from Redbox.

The movie clearly stated that there was 'graphic nudity' which my husband seemed okay with (surprise, surprise). I told him it would serve him right if the nudity was all male, full frontal and loaded.

Of course, it wasn't.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have grown up on the opposite side of the gender fence. Boys are raised in a culture where they can't get away from seeing naked boobies (and more) in the movies, on the internet, and even on TV. Girls are raised to endure it.

But wouldn't life be different if the thong was on the other cheek? If we gals grew up seeing naked men in cinema so often it rarely made us blink, while men could just hope and pray that in that movie they might get a peek at a nipple.

I really don't mind nudity in the movies, but I do mind the sexism. If we are lucky we get to see an old guy, bare butted, tottering his way over to the public bath.

It's an interesting world we females live in, but we accept it. All the breasts on the movie screen (which are always round and firm and perfect), all the 'spring break videos' featuring slightly drunken, twerking females, and all the films featuring guys whose girlfriends are half their age.

I think its time for a major switcharoozie! If I want to be depressed looking at breasts, I'll just stare at my own :)

Cheers!
April

Hello Sunshine?

What I hope I'll look likeTrying out Glam Lights on my hair. The box assures me its easy and if its good enough for Blake Lively it's good enough for me.

Of course, I've tortured my hair a lot this year. So much, in fact, that I had to have a big chunk of it cut off at a fancy salon in Vegas. What I was left with is only describable as a Euro Mullet (meaning short in front, long in back, and the stylist assuring me that this is all the rage in Italy).

Its finally grown out a little and I'm no longer wearing it back all the time (or in my writer's ponytail) but that may change after these highlights hit my head.

Still, I'm always one to experiment. If I go bald perhaps I'll just audition for the next Mad Max film.

What I will probably end up with!Come on pretty bouncy shiny hair!

Cheers!
April Aasheim

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Cheers!
April Aasheim

Sometimes They Don't Come Back

I had the best day yesterday, sitting outside in the cool morning air, typing away on my computer, happy with the words that were coming out.

My cat was outside with me. I had bought him a LONG tie cord and a kitty harnass and tied him up the swing in the back yard. He seemed pretty happy as well, meowing and smelling things like he does. For a moment I thought our eyes met and we were both like 'yeah, life is good'.

And then I looked up again, not twenty minutes later, and kitty was gone. Gone gone. Gone as in alien abducted gone.

The funny thing is the tie out was still there, and so was the harness. Neither looked as though they'd been messed with. It was like kitty had suddenly lost a few pounds of his winter Fancy Feast weight and just disappeared.

I immediately panicked. Boots is not an outdoor cat. He likes to pretend he is, hissing at the squirrels that prance by our back window, but he's a kitty of leisure. I feel bad about it sometimes but he was fixed when he was just 12 weeks old and doesn't have a fighting spirit. There are tons of stray Toms around (not to mention cars) and I think his chances of real survival outside are about as good as mine were someone to drop me off in the woods with only a photograph of what my home looked like and a queer sense that monsters exist somewhere in the forest.

I combed the neighborhood for nearly an hour, embarrassing myself by calling out "here Bootsie, Bootsie" until even the old guy who mows his lawn in nothing but Speedos thought I was going insane.

At last, I hear this horrifying yowling sound and it doesn't sound like my cat, at least the cat I know, but I run towards it sure that its another cat eating mine, or at the very least, my cat has gotten run down by the Speedo wearing lawn-mowing man.

It was the neighbors cat, yowling and rolling around a bush like he'd just risen from the Pet Cemetery. He's an outside cat, and if you ask me, I'm not sure his owners are all too fond of him. I think he must have fallen from a tall building in his youth and didn't' land on his feet. For a moment I looked at this pathetic creature and he looked at me. We were both alone and lost. I thought, 'well if Boots is gone maybe i can take this wretched creature in'. It must be my maternal instinct. Love something. Nurture something. Just make sure they have vocal cords to remind you when to feed or water them or they are screwed (sorry plants outside!)

But then, just as I bent over to scoop him up (yes, crazy I know, but I was a grief stricken cat mommy), I see two gold eyes peering at me from the ginormous bush behind Pet Cemetery cat.

Boots!

I can not begin to tell you how happy I was to see my fat little cat, all quivering and shaking from the safety of the bush. I said sorry to crazy kitty and picked up my own, petting him and cooing to calm him. He gave me a look that said "Thank God you've arrived. Did you see how freakish that other cat was? Scared the bejeezus out of me."

He has been sleeping nearly steadily these last 24 hours, as if he were a PTSD victim coming back from a tour in the Middle East.

He looks out his window now and again, but the gleam in his eyes are gone. Even the squirrels don't offer much temptation anymore. He has seen the world and he wants nothing of it.

At least until the next time.

Cheers!
April Aasheim

What's Up...

I realize I haven't been posting lately. I've been working hard on finishing up the third installment of my Daughters of Dark Root series and The Curse of Dark Root is finally done! Finally!

I'm getting faster at writing, I guess. This one is 80,000 words long and took me nine months to write four drafts. Of course, the last few months were exceptionally long days (maybe 12-14 hours per day) but I love the story so much and it was worth it. And whenever I think 'writing is hard' I have to remember the days when I waited tables or cleaned houses. That was hard work. And even though I've had cushier jobs since those days, I still know how blessed I am that I get to wake up every day and realize my dream.

Yes, writing is hard, but its a labor of love. It doesn't always come out the way I envisioned it but sometimes, if the moon is right, it comes out even better.

I'll try and stay more current now.

Here's to a lovely summer!

April Aasheim