Tag: The Changeling

Where did you get the idea for the sequel…?

Where did I get the idea for The Changeling? In Fort Collins, Colorado. I was just about a half a block from the Colorado State campus, walking on Elizabeth Street between Shields and City Park Avenue. I believe that I was on the north side of the street heading west, but I couldn’t swear to that.

At this point, it probably feels like we’re in a variant of the joke where a guy is in a hot air balloon, asks a passer by on the ground where he is, and is informed that he’s in a balloon about twenty feet off the ground, the joke that ends with, “You must be a computer person. The answer that you gave was technically correct but completely useless.”* And while I’m guilty of being a computer type, I’m not trying to be difficult here. “Where did you get the idea…” is not asking for GPS coordinates, I know, but in this case, that’s the only answer I have. 

I got the idea for The Changeling  before Red Lights on Silver Mountain Road was even completely outlined, let alone written. I was working at Colorado State University at the time, and I had gone for walk while a particular complicated bit of code chewed through my data. At that point, many of the details of the world and the characters were still nebulous: the series was set somewhere in the Appalachians, and I had a vague idea of Emma as a law student at someplace like West Virginia or Appalachian State. As I said, I was walking along Elizabeth Street just west of campus, not thinking about anything in particular, when the idea of Emma trying to defend a changeling who wanted to keep a human life rather than returning to the fairy world downloaded itself into my head. I don’t know what put it there or why, but by the time I finished my walk, I was brimming with thoughts of Emma as a lawyer helping humans and fairies who had fallen afoul of the laws of the Fae. The series name of The Seelie Court occurred to me then, with the pun on it being a court of law fully intentional. (You may now groan and throw things at me through the computer).

Obviously, things changed. The setting moved to Colorado, and Emma turned out not to be suited for lawyering: she’s certainly smart enough, but she’s a woman of action who would have no patience with debates on how New York Times v. Sullivan would apply to Twitter feeds. Given that, I wondered if the idea of The Changeling would still work or if it should be abandoned in favor of some of the other ideas I had about the Seelie Court world. However, the idea stuck with me for multiple reasons: I liked the idea of Emma’s allies from the first book becoming enemies (at least temporarily), and I liked the idea of an untrustworthy and not all that likable victim who nonetheless could be considered sympathetic. It struck me as a good way to explore the uncertainty and treachery that’s inherent in being a mortal dealing with the Fae. I also liked the idea of a courtroom and a trial as the framework to let Emma explore the Fae Realm. Even though Emma was no longer a potential lawyer, she would still want to help, and indeed her lack of verbal debate experience was a plus in throwing her into the deep end of the Fairy Courts and letting her flounder.

So it was that about six months after finishing Red Lights on Silver Mountain Road, I put my fingers on the keyboard to write The Changeling and see if I could type this story out of my head…

*: I should mention that we techies have our own ending to that joke. After balloon guy’s rant, the guy on the ground says, “And you must be a buisness person. You don’t know where you are or where you need to go, but you expect me to be able to help. You’re no worse off than you were before, only now, for some reason, it’s my fault.”

To Prologue or Not to Prologue

It’s odd for me to accept, but there are people who can’t stand prologues. There are those who refuse to read them, and those who refuse to read anything that has a prologue. I’ve never quite understood this; sometimes the best place to begin is not at what would be the chronological beginning, or with characters who aren’t those we’ll follow for the rest of the story. In my mind, a prologue, like everything else, should be there if it’s done well and not if it isn’t.

For Red Lights on Silver Mountain Road, I felt the prologue was a necessity. Without the prologue, we go until Chapter 7 before anything overtly supernatural happens. With the prologue, the reader knows, even though Emma doesn’t, that the explanations she’s looking for aren’t necessarily in the category of what she might consider “possible.”

For the sequel, The Changeling (now available for pre-order), I’m a bit more torn. It has some of the same issues in that it goes through a “mundane” investigation at the beginning before the supernatural elements are revealed and take center stage, though the mundane part only lasts until Chapter 4 this time. Pulling in fairies at that point could very well be considered cheating and yanking the rug out from someone who started the series at that point. On the other hand, Emma knows about the existence of the Fae this time and can warn the readers without a prologue to explicitly tell them that’s what’s happening.

Regardless of whether I need it or not, I have written a prologue for The Changeling. I suspect it will remain Schrödinger’s prologue for another month or so, and I won’t know whether it will be included or not until I actually upload the final document. I do, however, like it; whether it belongs in the final piece or not, I think it’s a fun little bit, so I thought I would share it here. Consider it a taste of what’s to come in the Seelie Court…

***

He was a powerful fighter, no question about that. He was one with the flames, and the fire was his to command. If he chose, he could bring all of its strength and power down on her. But he did not choose. He contented himself with small flames that sparked out of his fingers, seemingly trying to threaten rather than injure. Whether that was because he was trying to avoid attention or simply because he underestimated her, it hardly mattered. What mattered was that he was holding back.

His opponent felt no such restraint. This was everything to her. If she lost at this moment, she lost everything she had ever held dear. Every weapon she had was fair game; there was nothing else she was saving them for. “Spirits of the wood, aid me!” she cried. “Give me the strength of the bear, the steadiness of the stones, the power of the sun.” She gave an incomprehensible war cry and charged at her attacker.

The counterattack caught him by surprise. He stumbled backwards, fighting to keep his balance on the loose gravel beneath his feet. She felt a surge of hope and pressed her advantage. But she had forgotten that her opponent was not alone. She was caught by surprise as a mass of claws and feathers descended on her. She threw up her hands to protect her face, and as she did so was forced to let the man go. He came at her again, and now she was the one scrambling backwards trying to avoid the danger coming from both in front of her and above her.

Allies, I need allies, she thought. What I wouldn’t give to have a myrmecoleon or a bugbear nearby! But even though those great beasts were not a possibility, she was far from alone. She sang out to the creatures nearby, and one by one, they responded. They would help her if they could, and she would not hesitate to use them.

As the man continued to advance on her, she raised her hand and dozens, perhaps hundreds of grey moths flitted out of the ground and surrounded him. “What the—” he started to say, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the moths flew in, and his words were soon drowned by the force of a thousand wings. She continued to retreat, looking for an avenue of escape. She knew the moths would be no more than an annoyance to him, and indeed, after a moment, the man’s skin started to glow. He turned red, then orange, and then transformed for a few seconds into a blazing bonfire. When he returned to his human form, the moths were no more than ash.

“Come now, be reasonable,” he said. “You can’t possibly expect—ow!”

Her second set of allies had arrived. From the trees above him, dozens of squirrels scurried about, hurling down whatever they could get their paws on. He found himself pelted with nuts, seeds, branches, and even a few small rocks, although how those got up into the tree, she couldn’t say. He looked incredulous, presumably at the fact that such small creatures could possibly launch such a painful attack. Ask any college student about the squirrel army, she thought with grim satisfaction, remembering equally puzzled looks from her classmates on the Oval during the fall as the squirrels rained down their attacks on them. And those squirrels had merely been indifferent to the fate of creatures below. These were actively hostile, and their every action proved it.

But he had an ally too. “A little help here!” he called, and the raptor who had attacked earlier swooped into the tree with talons bared. The squirrels were loyal, but unlike the moths, they weren’t suicidal. They ran for the safety of the innermost branches. A few tried to continue their attacks, but the nut-based bombing run was over, and the man stood up and advanced again.

“I’ve had about enough of this,” he said. “I’d prefer it if you came quietly, but if you want to do it this way, I can oblige you.”

The fire appeared in his hands again, larger this time. He still wasn’t bringing as much power as he could, but she knew that he was done merely threatening. She ran, and he caught her by the arms. She screamed as the fire touched her flesh, searing away layers of skin. She kicked him as hard as she could, and he loosened his grip for a moment. She pulled her arm away and felt a brief surge of hope, but then he grabbed her other arm, and she screamed again. He knocked her to the ground, and all she could see around her was fire. She yelled and kicked and fought with everything she had, but she hurt too much, and he was too powerful. She knew it was useless.

Then she heard a howl, and even through her pain, she felt a spark of hope. The howl was joined by what seemed like a dozen others. The pressure on her released ever so slightly, and then it was his turn to scream. We’re here! said a chorus of voices in her mind, and she directed them to her adversary. The fire moved away from her, and she was able to sit up. She could see her enemy surrounded by tawny, mangy fur as he tried to fight off five coyotes. Another three were attacking the bird and keeping her pinned in a tree, unable to come to the aid of her partner.

She took advantage of her freedom. Without hesitating, she ran across the gravel lot, hitting the unlock button on her key fob as she did so. When she reached her car, she leaped in and slammed and locked the door behind her. Only then did she spare a moment to look at the coyotes. They were faring better than the squirrels had, but she still saw two whose fur appeared to be singed and another who was limping. Thank you, my friends. I’m safe now. Let us all run to freedom. One of the coyotes looked through the windshield of the car and gave her a quick nod, then howled as she started the ignition. As she peeled out of the parking lot, she could see the coyotes scattering behind her. She hoped that her enemies wouldn’t pursue them. There was no reason to, and it would do them no good, but she had no reason to believe they weren’t the vindictive type.

She sped down the road and was halfway to the highway before she allowed herself to think. She had won this round—anything that allowed her to escape had to be considered a win—but she wasn’t about to delude herself that there wouldn’t be another. They would keep coming after her until they captured her or she killed them. She had no intention of allowing the former, and the latter was likely impossible, especially if they stopped fooling around and started fighting for real.

I need allies, she thought again. Allies more capable than suburban wildlife. When she got to the highway, she took the onramp heading west with a vague plan of perhaps finding some larger, more dangerous predator, but she rejected that idea before she was even out of town. Mundane animals, no matter how powerful, wouldn’t be enough here. She needed something that could think as well as fight.

As she drove, she planned with a ruthlessness that would have surprised most of those who knew her. She had a number of contacts among the underworld, and she considered them all, but rejected each of them in the end. Most would sell her out in a heartbeat, and the few that she could intimidate into a facsimile of honor would be too weak to win the necessary battles.

She thought and thought. And then a name came to her: Deputy Emma Greer. She considered everything she had heard about the woman. If the rumors were true, Deputy Greer could be the one she was looking for. Dealing with Emma would be a dangerous game, but she had dealt with dangerous creatures before. She was willing to use this Emma Greer as ruthlessly as she had used the moths, squirrels, and coyotes.