Interview and Excerpt: Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil by Charlotte Henley Babb
Thanks to Charlotte Henley Babb for stopping by with a Q&A and excerpt from Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil. Please visit her tour page at CLP Blog Tours for more information and a giveaway!
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you?
I was nine. I read Louisa Alcott's Little Women and fell in love with Jo March. I wrote a story when I was in second grade about a family of cardinals. I always wanted to be a writer. But I let a lot of people talk me out of writing as a living—be a teacher they said, you can make a living at that, and it's a good job, upwardly mobile from the mill workers of my grandmother's generation, and the office work my mom did. So I was in my forties before I did any serious writing, other than a poem here and there. How would you describe your books?
They are fractured fairy tales for women of a certain age. At some point, I want to write some steampunk stories and I have an idea for a series of science fiction stories, but I only have notes about them at this point.
Why was Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil a book you wanted to write?
I was telling someone about teaching in a community college setting and said something to the effect that I felt like a fairy godmother with a classroom full of frogs and toads who wanted to be princes and princesses. I wanted to help them with their self-esteem transformation.
As I did the fairy tale research for the background, I realized that there are no stories for older women—we are seen as feeble grandmothers or evil witches or stepmothers. So I wanted to tell that story and show how older women still need to deal with their own needs and desires, and help other women not to make mistakes out of mass consciousness and peer pressure. The story I set out to write will probably be the third or fourth book in the series, as my mentor at the time convinced me to start at the beginning. What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?
Plotting the story, getting the events worked out and dramatizing the conflicts of the characters. The writing itself is not that hard, but making it fit together to make sense and then, hopefully, to be funny, is more challenging.
What is some of the best financial advice you would give?
Make a budget. Follow it. Balance your bank account. Have only one credit card, and pay it off at the end of the month. Join a credit union and have some of your income direct-deposited into an account that you can’t access without personally visiting the office—no debit card or funds transfer online. I really wish I had followed my own advice in the past.
What are your favorite genres to read?
I enjoy stories from other times and places: fantasy, science fiction, historical, thrillers…almost anything that is not primarily romance. Girl gets boy is not that interesting to me as a main plot.
What do you want readers to take away from your story?
It's a story for women "of a certain age" who have many of the same needs and desires that young women do, but who have no place in the society, not stories, no role models for getting old and for dealing with life after motherhood.The young girl, the young woman that she was is still inside this older woman, and while she has gained experience, she needs a way to navigate new freedoms and new limitations, new passages. Women live longer than men, and there are more women than men in this age group that does not seem to realize their financial power. The media has just begun to wake up to this large group of older women who aren't using denture glue, diapers or walkers, but they are buying stocks, jewelry, cars, homes, clothing, and anything else that they want. They are building their own lives in a new way, and that is woman who becomes her own fairy godmother. That's the story I am telling.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?
Facebook is the third largest “country” in the world. It seems important to me to go where the readers are. More and more of my market—women of a certain age—are reading books on e-readers, so getting the information out on social networks—facebook, goodreads, maybe twitter—is important. I want to know what my readers think, what they like and what they hate. Social networks provide a place for dialog if we can get the conversation going.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers?
Write. Write. Write. Write. If you think writing is too hard, wash your hands and do something else.
Find other writers in person or online and share critique. Listen to what they say, and read their work with discernment and kindness. Then write more.
**Excerpt**
A scratching noise caught Maven’s attention when it began to rattle the door. The latch moved, but not quite far enough to allow the door to open. Maven set her teacup down and pushed herself up out of her chair. She was stiff from sitting still for so long.
All right, all right, don’t have a hissy fit,” she muttered. “Are you going to let me open the door?” she said to the house.
The latch flew up, the door crashed back against the wall, and a wolf leapt into the room. Covered with twigs and leaves, as though he had penetrated the underbrush with his long nose, he panted heavily, his sides heaving. His paws left mud and smears of blood on the floor.
“Oh, NO!” he gasped. “A Grandmother!” He looked back out the door, where someone was coming after him. They could hear the shouts and stamping of someone coming through the woods.
“Calm down,” Maven said. “I’m not going to eat you. What’s wrong?”
The wolf turned to go back out.
“No, wait. Climb into bed.” Maven looked at the nightgown and the bonnet on the peg. Fairy tale people were pretty easily fooled, but surely not that easily. She threw the nightgown over his head and tied the bonnet over his ears. “Don’t wag your tail.” She threw the cloak over him too. Not too bad if they didn’t actually see him. “Roll over.”
“I’m not a dog.” The wolf growled.
“You’ll be dog food if they catch you. Shut up. Look sick.” Maven turned to face the fireplace. “All right, Hut. Make it dark and musty in here, and make a kettle of whatever kind of bad smelling stuff they use for medicine around here. I don’t want anyone chopped up on my watch.”
“I prefer to be called Cottage.” The walls sounded peevish.
“All right, Cottage, you can be the freaking Taj Mahal as long as you do what needs to be done. Fiona would not have gone to this much trouble just to aggravate me.”
“Don’t count on that.” A brownish smell began to bubble from the kettle, an herb that seemed vaguely familiar, but Maven couldn’t place it.
Before she could ask the cottage, the door, having latched itself again, shook with the blows of pounding fists.
Maven leaned heavily on her cane and made her voice croak like a frog. “Who’s there? I’m just an old crone here, go away.”
The door rattled with the heavy blows, shaking the latch loose again. Three hulking woodcutters came in, axe handles in hand.
“Where are you, Wolf?” He saw Maven leaning on her cane. “There he is now.” He grabbed her by her shawl, which came off, exposing her iron gray hair and her face.
“My, what small ears you have.” he exclaimed, pulling on one of them.
“Must be why you are shouting,” Maven said. She pushed against him to no avail. She stomped on the instep of his hobnailed boot, but it only hurt her foot.
“And what small eyes you have.” he said, turning her face between his thumb and forefinger.
“Big enough to see your face and remember it,” Maven said, her look being dark enough to kill if he had been bright enough to see it.
“And your nose isn’t long at all.” He began to look truly perplexed.
“It’s long enough to smell herbs cooking in a sick house.” Maven shook herself loose. “Now if you don’t want to be in the bed at your house, you’d better get on out of here.” Then kicking her self mentally for having a big mouth, she saw that they hadn’t seen the wolf in the bed at all.
“Can’t have a wolf running around, eating helpless grandmothers.” He stepped to the bed, his axe ready to fall and his cronies right behind him. “It’s for your own protection.”
“No!” Maven stretched herself up to her full height, drew in a deep breath, and pointed her cane at the woodcutters. Tulip had said she could turn anyone into a frog for self-protection, so she could do it to protect someone else.
She gathered her anger and forced it through the cane so that green sparkles flew out the end.
By the time the sparkles settled, three bewildered frogs sat on the floor beside their axes, one of which fell, narrowly missing the bed. The bed had seen it coming though, and dodged.
Maven shooed the frogs out, keeping their axes for future reference. She stacked them into a corner where they became a mop, a broom, and a pitchfork.
Thanks” she said to the Cottage.
Certainly,” it replied, less coldly than before.
“All right, you, get up.” Maven shook the wolf’s shoulder, only to feel it quivering. “You’re safe now, from the frogs.” She untied the bonnet and helped the wolf out of the nightgown. “How did they get on your trail? You must have done something to get their attention.”
“Humans. It’s always the wolf at the door; never mind what they do to us.” The wolf growled, slinking away from her towards the door. Yet he was afraid to go out.
Maven thought he looked pitiful, wavering. She dipped water out of the bucket into a bowl and set it on the floor. “Here, at least drink something and rest.”
“You aren’t afraid that I will eat you?” The wolf said. His legs shook, on the verge of collapse.
“You weren’t planning to, were you?” Maven said.
He slunk over to the bowl and lapped noisily until the bowl was dry.
Maven sat back in the rocker. She swirled the tea leaves again to listen to the wolf’s story. It was a different perspective, film noir, and at a 24-inch eye level, but it was clear he was a sheep in a wolf’s body.
“You are obviously a witch. Are you going to turn me into a frog too?” the wolf asked finally. “I’d probably be better at being a frog.” He laid his chin on his paws. “At least people wouldn’t be afraid of me.”
“Actually, I’m a fairy godmother. On vacation.”
What would a wolf wish for?
“That explains the brambles around the cottage.” He began to chew at the brambles in his paws. “I thought I would never get through. I don’t remember this cottage being here before.”
“That’s magic for you.” Maven shrugged. “Now, you rest here tonight. I’d be glad of the company.” She spoke to the kettle, and the medicine smell disappeared. She made more tea, and when a plate of meat appeared on the table, she laid it on the floor by the wolf. After he had eaten, he curled up by the hearth and went to sleep.
Maven moved closer to the fire as well, her legs cold and shakier than the persona warranted. She was so tired.
She picked up the bit of gossamer that had been her shawl before the woodcutter grabbed it and stretched it around her bare arms.
o wonder she was cold. Her hemline had crept up at least a foot and her sleeves had disappeared. She tugged the rags down, making them slightly less ragged, and much warmer.
What had happened to her gossamers?
She had used her energy, her anger, to transform the frogs. Now she could see why she had to be careful. It hadn’t seemed like all that much energy, but the adrenaline pumping through her was hers, not the energy available in the cottage. She turned the rocker towards the fire.
She was very tired now, and finally feeling warm again, she drifted off into a nap.
**Everyone who leaves a comment on Charlotte's tour page will be entered in the giveaway! Anyone who purchases their copy of Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil before December 31 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com, will get five extra entries in a drawing to win a $10 Amazon gift card!! Two bonus winners will receive a wand from Charlotte Henley Babb! Please note this is open to US/Canada residents only.**
Author Bio:
Charlotte Henley Babb is a web designer and college writing instructor in Spartanburg, SC.Charlotte began writing when she could hold a piece of chalk and scribble her name–although she sometimes mistook “Chocolate” for “Charlotte” on the sign at the drug store ice cream counter.
When her third-grade teacher allowed her access to the fiction room at the school library, Charlotte discovered Louisa Alcott and Robert Heinlein, an odd marriage of the minds. These two authors have had the most influence on her desire to share her point of view with the world and to explore how the world might be made better.
In the meantime, Charlotte has fallen prey to steampunk and the gears are turning…corset, bustle and magic, oh my! She brings to any project a number of experiences, including work as a technical writer, gasket inspector, cloth store associate, girl Friday, and telephone psychic.
She has studied the folk stories of many cultures and wonders what happened to ours. Where are the stories are for people over 20 who have survived marriage, divorce, child-rearing, education, bankruptcy, and widowhood?
Charlotte loves Fractured Fairy Tales and writes them for your enjoyment.
Connect with Charlotte!
http://charlottehenleybabb.comhttp://mavenfairygodmother.com/http://facebook.com/maven.fairy.godmotherhttp://facebook.com/charlotte.henley.babbhttp://beyourownfairygodmother.com Buy the Book!
Publisher: http://bit.ly/MavenFGM (1 scene excerpt)
Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/Maven-k (read first 6 chapters free)
B&N Nook: http://bit,ly/Maven-bn (read first 3 chapters free)
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/MavenSW
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/Maven-GR
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you?
I was nine. I read Louisa Alcott's Little Women and fell in love with Jo March. I wrote a story when I was in second grade about a family of cardinals. I always wanted to be a writer. But I let a lot of people talk me out of writing as a living—be a teacher they said, you can make a living at that, and it's a good job, upwardly mobile from the mill workers of my grandmother's generation, and the office work my mom did. So I was in my forties before I did any serious writing, other than a poem here and there. How would you describe your books?
They are fractured fairy tales for women of a certain age. At some point, I want to write some steampunk stories and I have an idea for a series of science fiction stories, but I only have notes about them at this point.
Why was Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil a book you wanted to write?
I was telling someone about teaching in a community college setting and said something to the effect that I felt like a fairy godmother with a classroom full of frogs and toads who wanted to be princes and princesses. I wanted to help them with their self-esteem transformation.
As I did the fairy tale research for the background, I realized that there are no stories for older women—we are seen as feeble grandmothers or evil witches or stepmothers. So I wanted to tell that story and show how older women still need to deal with their own needs and desires, and help other women not to make mistakes out of mass consciousness and peer pressure. The story I set out to write will probably be the third or fourth book in the series, as my mentor at the time convinced me to start at the beginning. What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?
Plotting the story, getting the events worked out and dramatizing the conflicts of the characters. The writing itself is not that hard, but making it fit together to make sense and then, hopefully, to be funny, is more challenging.
What is some of the best financial advice you would give?
Make a budget. Follow it. Balance your bank account. Have only one credit card, and pay it off at the end of the month. Join a credit union and have some of your income direct-deposited into an account that you can’t access without personally visiting the office—no debit card or funds transfer online. I really wish I had followed my own advice in the past.
What are your favorite genres to read?
I enjoy stories from other times and places: fantasy, science fiction, historical, thrillers…almost anything that is not primarily romance. Girl gets boy is not that interesting to me as a main plot.
What do you want readers to take away from your story?
It's a story for women "of a certain age" who have many of the same needs and desires that young women do, but who have no place in the society, not stories, no role models for getting old and for dealing with life after motherhood.The young girl, the young woman that she was is still inside this older woman, and while she has gained experience, she needs a way to navigate new freedoms and new limitations, new passages. Women live longer than men, and there are more women than men in this age group that does not seem to realize their financial power. The media has just begun to wake up to this large group of older women who aren't using denture glue, diapers or walkers, but they are buying stocks, jewelry, cars, homes, clothing, and anything else that they want. They are building their own lives in a new way, and that is woman who becomes her own fairy godmother. That's the story I am telling.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?
Facebook is the third largest “country” in the world. It seems important to me to go where the readers are. More and more of my market—women of a certain age—are reading books on e-readers, so getting the information out on social networks—facebook, goodreads, maybe twitter—is important. I want to know what my readers think, what they like and what they hate. Social networks provide a place for dialog if we can get the conversation going.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers?
Write. Write. Write. Write. If you think writing is too hard, wash your hands and do something else.
Find other writers in person or online and share critique. Listen to what they say, and read their work with discernment and kindness. Then write more.
**Excerpt**
A scratching noise caught Maven’s attention when it began to rattle the door. The latch moved, but not quite far enough to allow the door to open. Maven set her teacup down and pushed herself up out of her chair. She was stiff from sitting still for so long.
All right, all right, don’t have a hissy fit,” she muttered. “Are you going to let me open the door?” she said to the house.
The latch flew up, the door crashed back against the wall, and a wolf leapt into the room. Covered with twigs and leaves, as though he had penetrated the underbrush with his long nose, he panted heavily, his sides heaving. His paws left mud and smears of blood on the floor.
“Oh, NO!” he gasped. “A Grandmother!” He looked back out the door, where someone was coming after him. They could hear the shouts and stamping of someone coming through the woods.
“Calm down,” Maven said. “I’m not going to eat you. What’s wrong?”
The wolf turned to go back out.
“No, wait. Climb into bed.” Maven looked at the nightgown and the bonnet on the peg. Fairy tale people were pretty easily fooled, but surely not that easily. She threw the nightgown over his head and tied the bonnet over his ears. “Don’t wag your tail.” She threw the cloak over him too. Not too bad if they didn’t actually see him. “Roll over.”
“I’m not a dog.” The wolf growled.
“You’ll be dog food if they catch you. Shut up. Look sick.” Maven turned to face the fireplace. “All right, Hut. Make it dark and musty in here, and make a kettle of whatever kind of bad smelling stuff they use for medicine around here. I don’t want anyone chopped up on my watch.”
“I prefer to be called Cottage.” The walls sounded peevish.
“All right, Cottage, you can be the freaking Taj Mahal as long as you do what needs to be done. Fiona would not have gone to this much trouble just to aggravate me.”
“Don’t count on that.” A brownish smell began to bubble from the kettle, an herb that seemed vaguely familiar, but Maven couldn’t place it.
Before she could ask the cottage, the door, having latched itself again, shook with the blows of pounding fists.
Maven leaned heavily on her cane and made her voice croak like a frog. “Who’s there? I’m just an old crone here, go away.”
The door rattled with the heavy blows, shaking the latch loose again. Three hulking woodcutters came in, axe handles in hand.
“Where are you, Wolf?” He saw Maven leaning on her cane. “There he is now.” He grabbed her by her shawl, which came off, exposing her iron gray hair and her face.
“My, what small ears you have.” he exclaimed, pulling on one of them.
“Must be why you are shouting,” Maven said. She pushed against him to no avail. She stomped on the instep of his hobnailed boot, but it only hurt her foot.
“And what small eyes you have.” he said, turning her face between his thumb and forefinger.
“Big enough to see your face and remember it,” Maven said, her look being dark enough to kill if he had been bright enough to see it.
“And your nose isn’t long at all.” He began to look truly perplexed.
“It’s long enough to smell herbs cooking in a sick house.” Maven shook herself loose. “Now if you don’t want to be in the bed at your house, you’d better get on out of here.” Then kicking her self mentally for having a big mouth, she saw that they hadn’t seen the wolf in the bed at all.
“Can’t have a wolf running around, eating helpless grandmothers.” He stepped to the bed, his axe ready to fall and his cronies right behind him. “It’s for your own protection.”
“No!” Maven stretched herself up to her full height, drew in a deep breath, and pointed her cane at the woodcutters. Tulip had said she could turn anyone into a frog for self-protection, so she could do it to protect someone else.
She gathered her anger and forced it through the cane so that green sparkles flew out the end.
By the time the sparkles settled, three bewildered frogs sat on the floor beside their axes, one of which fell, narrowly missing the bed. The bed had seen it coming though, and dodged.
Maven shooed the frogs out, keeping their axes for future reference. She stacked them into a corner where they became a mop, a broom, and a pitchfork.
Thanks” she said to the Cottage.
Certainly,” it replied, less coldly than before.
“All right, you, get up.” Maven shook the wolf’s shoulder, only to feel it quivering. “You’re safe now, from the frogs.” She untied the bonnet and helped the wolf out of the nightgown. “How did they get on your trail? You must have done something to get their attention.”
“Humans. It’s always the wolf at the door; never mind what they do to us.” The wolf growled, slinking away from her towards the door. Yet he was afraid to go out.
Maven thought he looked pitiful, wavering. She dipped water out of the bucket into a bowl and set it on the floor. “Here, at least drink something and rest.”
“You aren’t afraid that I will eat you?” The wolf said. His legs shook, on the verge of collapse.
“You weren’t planning to, were you?” Maven said.
He slunk over to the bowl and lapped noisily until the bowl was dry.
Maven sat back in the rocker. She swirled the tea leaves again to listen to the wolf’s story. It was a different perspective, film noir, and at a 24-inch eye level, but it was clear he was a sheep in a wolf’s body.
“You are obviously a witch. Are you going to turn me into a frog too?” the wolf asked finally. “I’d probably be better at being a frog.” He laid his chin on his paws. “At least people wouldn’t be afraid of me.”
“Actually, I’m a fairy godmother. On vacation.”
What would a wolf wish for?
“That explains the brambles around the cottage.” He began to chew at the brambles in his paws. “I thought I would never get through. I don’t remember this cottage being here before.”
“That’s magic for you.” Maven shrugged. “Now, you rest here tonight. I’d be glad of the company.” She spoke to the kettle, and the medicine smell disappeared. She made more tea, and when a plate of meat appeared on the table, she laid it on the floor by the wolf. After he had eaten, he curled up by the hearth and went to sleep.
Maven moved closer to the fire as well, her legs cold and shakier than the persona warranted. She was so tired.
She picked up the bit of gossamer that had been her shawl before the woodcutter grabbed it and stretched it around her bare arms.
o wonder she was cold. Her hemline had crept up at least a foot and her sleeves had disappeared. She tugged the rags down, making them slightly less ragged, and much warmer.
What had happened to her gossamers?
She had used her energy, her anger, to transform the frogs. Now she could see why she had to be careful. It hadn’t seemed like all that much energy, but the adrenaline pumping through her was hers, not the energy available in the cottage. She turned the rocker towards the fire.
She was very tired now, and finally feeling warm again, she drifted off into a nap.
**Everyone who leaves a comment on Charlotte's tour page will be entered in the giveaway! Anyone who purchases their copy of Maven Fairy Godmother: Through the Veil before December 31 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com, will get five extra entries in a drawing to win a $10 Amazon gift card!! Two bonus winners will receive a wand from Charlotte Henley Babb! Please note this is open to US/Canada residents only.**
Author Bio:
Charlotte Henley Babb is a web designer and college writing instructor in Spartanburg, SC.Charlotte began writing when she could hold a piece of chalk and scribble her name–although she sometimes mistook “Chocolate” for “Charlotte” on the sign at the drug store ice cream counter.
When her third-grade teacher allowed her access to the fiction room at the school library, Charlotte discovered Louisa Alcott and Robert Heinlein, an odd marriage of the minds. These two authors have had the most influence on her desire to share her point of view with the world and to explore how the world might be made better.
In the meantime, Charlotte has fallen prey to steampunk and the gears are turning…corset, bustle and magic, oh my! She brings to any project a number of experiences, including work as a technical writer, gasket inspector, cloth store associate, girl Friday, and telephone psychic.
She has studied the folk stories of many cultures and wonders what happened to ours. Where are the stories are for people over 20 who have survived marriage, divorce, child-rearing, education, bankruptcy, and widowhood?
Charlotte loves Fractured Fairy Tales and writes them for your enjoyment.
Connect with Charlotte!
http://charlottehenleybabb.comhttp://mavenfairygodmother.com/http://facebook.com/maven.fairy.godmotherhttp://facebook.com/charlotte.henley.babbhttp://beyourownfairygodmother.com Buy the Book!
Publisher: http://bit.ly/MavenFGM (1 scene excerpt)
Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/Maven-k (read first 6 chapters free)
B&N Nook: http://bit,ly/Maven-bn (read first 3 chapters free)
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/MavenSW
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/Maven-GR
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