A.G. Marshall's Blog

I recently returned from an adventure/research trip in Ireland and Spain. Here are some highlights: Tea with Erika Everest at the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin. I met fellow fairytale author Erika several years ago in Scotland, and we cohosted a fairytale-themed talkshow during lockdown. It was so fun to catch up with her, and the tea was delicious. Afterward, we walked around Dublin and checked out the local castle. You can find out more about Erika's books here. Walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain I studied the cathedral in Santiago in a medieval music and art class in college. When I looked into visiting it during my time in Spain, I discovered that this is still an active pilgrim route that thousands of people walk each year. So I decided to do it myself and walked the last 110 kilometers (about 70 miles) of the way. It was harder than I expected, but also an amazing experience. I met some lovely people on the trail and also discovered that part of Spain is basically Castana from Lady Alma. There were roses everywhere! Visiting "Aughrim Castle" The Rock of Cashel was my inspiration for Aughrim Castle in The Blacksmith's Dilemma, so of course I had to visit it! I should note that there is actually a town called Aughrim in Ireland, but they don't have a castle. They do, however, have a blacksmith's forge! I jumbled a few real locations together while writing Blacksmith, which made visiting Ireland an interesting experience. I had to remind myself several times that I needed to book a bus ticket to Cashel, not Aughrim, to see the castle.

If you have no idea what The Blacksmith's Dilemma is, check out my newsletter! I send free fiction to subscribers every month, and Blacksmith is my current project. It's a lovely romance set in an Irish castle. Want to know more about what I did in Europe? My Patrons got exclusive blog posts and pictures of my trip as I traveled. You can still see them on my Patreon for just $1 a month, and you'll also get a lot of other cool behind the scenes content.

Introduction to the Series  ​This is the first post in a series of articles reviewing the books and resources that helped me finish and publish my first novel. I hope you enjoy it and find it helpful!
In this post, I’ll review Self-Editing for Fiction Writers (First Edition) by Rennie Browne and Dave King. This book was immensely helpful as I edited my first book, and it also taught me a lot of helpful writing tricks that I now use when I draft.
(It’s worth noting that the second edition was out when I bought my copy, but the first edition was much cheaper, and multiple customer reviews assured me that the content is largely the same. I have links for where to purchase this book at the end of the post.) Introduction to the Book “Why self-editing? Because self-editing is probably the only kind of editing your manuscript will ever get.”
The opening two sentences of this book sum up its premise pretty well, as does the subtitle: “How to Edit Yourself into Print.” While hiring a professional editor is a great way to clean up your manuscript, not everyone has money for that in their budget. Or maybe you’re caught in a tight deadline and need to polish up your manuscript yourself. There are many reasons you may need to self-edit a manuscript, and it’s a valuable skill to have.
I published my first four novels on a shoestring budget, which meant I had no money to hire an editor. I did, however, invest time in learning how to edit well myself. This book was an important part of that process, as were a few other resources that I’ll cover in later posts. Even if you plan to hire an editor, it doesn’t hurt to learn about editing so that you can communicate well with your chosen professional and give them the cleanest possible manuscript to work with.
Let’s take a look at a useful lesson from this book.
Interior Monologue: A Helpful Lesson One of my favorite lessons in this book comes from Chapter 6, Interior Monologue:

_______________ Excerpt from Chapter 6 _______________
“If you want your interior monologue to be unobtrusive to the point of transparency, get rid of what are, in effect, speaker attributions.

              Had he meant to kill her? Not likely, he thought.
              Had he meant to kill her? Not likely.

If you’re writing in the third person, you can just write your interior monologue in third rather than first person:

              I always ended up killing them, he thought.
              He always ended up killing them.

You can easily get rid of the “he wondered” locution by converting a short passage of interior monologue into a question (we call it the Q trick):

              He wondered why he always ended up killing them.
              Why did he always end up killing them?
__________________________________________

I use these tricks all the time when writing, as they allow me to write a very close third person point of view that reads more like first person. The Q trick is especially useful. Here are two passages in Princess of Shadows that use the Q trick to smooth out third person interior monologue.

Third Person Interior Monologue: Alaric
The princesses chatted with each other, sparing only the occasional glance in his direction. He tried to pick out the girls from Santelle and Eldria, but it was no good. Princess Carina and Princess Merinda looked just like the rest. Hair color was the only thing that separated one girl from another. Why hadn’t he memorized their hair colors? He scanned the table. Blond. Various shades of brown. Raven black.
 
Third Person Interior Monologue: Lina
She jumped and flew through the air until she neared the seal. Her left arm tingled. She looked down. Her ring flashed with red light. Lina stopped. Why was the gem doing that? She hadn’t asked it to check for danger. Something must be very wrong.
 
 
The first draft of this passage read:
She jumped and flew through the air until she neared the seal. Her left arm tingled. She looked down. Her ring flashed with red light. Lina stopped. She wondered why the gem was doing that. She hadn’t asked it to check for danger. Something must be very wrong.
 
 
You don’t always have to write interior monologues like this., but it is useful to have as many tools in your toolbox as possible so that you can choose the best way to write a passage. Working through exercises like this increased my awareness of interior monologue attributions, and now I can choose whichever one I think best suits each scene. The best way to master these skills is to practice until you discover your own unique voice. (It took several novels for me to be able to do this without thinking about it each time, and I’m still developing my voice.) Summary ​Throughout this book, the authors provide practical editing tips to strengthen your manuscript. The first edition of the book was published in 1994, so the authors assume you need to self-edit to attract the attention of an editor at a publishing house. (I haven’t read the second edition, so I’m not sure if it includes self-publishing or stays focused on traditional publishing models.) Writers can now skip that step and go directly to readers, but that doesn’t mean they can get away with weak writing. Rather, they can now use self-editing to attract readers in a competitive marketplace, save the cost of hiring a professional editor while on a tight budget, or to give their editor a cleaner manuscript if they do hire one.
I read this book cover to cover multiple times while editing my first novel. Working through the exercises helped me strengthen my draft and also helped me learn how to avoid these mistakes in the first place in future novels. These days, my editing process is pretty minimal as I have learned how to write a cleaner first draft that avoids the poor writing habits that this book shows you how to eliminate. Taking the time to learn these principles has saved me (and my editors) a lot of time!
I like this book so much that I have given copies of it as gifts to other writers. It has a friendly tone, helpful exercises at the end of each chapter, and fun cartoons about the writing process. The content is very practical and geared toward editing your writing into a work that will attract the attention of readers and publishers. It is not literary or academic in tone and focuses on creating commercial fiction that is easy to read. The advice is down-to-earth and has the practical goal of creating a work of fiction that is strong enough to sell. The book also has exercises that will challenge you to do this with sample texts and excerpts from published books. 
Where to Buy The eBook is available at multiple storesIncluded with Kindle Unlimited (In the US as of 8/7/21)First Edition and Second Edition paperbacks are available in most online bookstoresLibraries 
Money Saving Tip
If you want a paperback, you can buy used copies of the first edition for only a few dollars. While publishing advice from 1994 is outdated, craft advice is still sound.

Currently, the second edition is available in Kindle Unlimited, so those of you with that subscription can get it for free.

This book is published by a major publisher and should be available in most library catalogs. Ask your library to get a copy for you.

Conclusion I hope you found this resource review helpful. Leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Was there a part that was particularly helpful or that you thought I could have skipped? I'll be refining my format in future posts, so let me know what you'd like to see!

"Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
It was true. She did have enormous eyes.

Matilda Brown is running out of time, and her granddaughter's sharp eyes don't miss a thing. Can she get Red settled and happy before the wolves return? Can she find happiness for her own future? See for yourself in this short retelling of Little Red Riding Hood.

Read for free here or download to any device. The Grandmother with Enormous Eyes
A Little Red Riding Hood Short Story by A.G. Marshall “Grandmother, what big eyes you have!”
Matilda Brown narrowed her eyes, which were admittedly enormous, at her granddaughter.
“It isn’t nice to comment on other people’s appearances, Red. I’ve told you that before.”
“You said it a thousand times when I was little, Granny, but I’m grown up enough now to say what I think, and your eyes really do look odd. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
Granny. Matilda still felt strange every time someone called her granny. She didn’t feel that old. Not really. Not until Red said something that reminded her how much time had passed.
It wouldn’t do for Red to look too hard at Matilda’s eyes. That wouldn’t do at all.
“And what treats has your young woodsman sent this time?”
Red blushed until she was as crimson as the cloak she always wore.
“He’s a baker now, Granny, and he isn’t mine.”
“He would be if you let him.”
“Don’t be silly, Granny. I’m far too young for that. Besides, who would take care of you?”
Matilda took the muffin Red offered. She chewed the first bite more than necessary, giving her whirling mind a chance to settle.
“You refused him because of me?”
Red shook her head.
“It isn’t that simple, Granny.”
It was exactly that simple, and Red was a fool if she thought her granny believed otherwise. Matilda finished the muffin in silence. Red played with the edge of her cloak, folding the vibrant fabric into ruffles then smoothing it out again.
“I know that look, Granny. Don’t get any ideas.”
Matilda had more ideas than she knew what to do with, and most of them now centered on her granddaughter. Her enormous eyes watched Red the rest of the evening, searching for clues that could help with her plan.
***
“Grandmother, what big ears you have!”
Blast. Matilda had hoped her nightcap would cover them.
“All grannies have big ears, Red. It’s just part of getting old.”
“But they’ve grown since yesterday. I’m sure of it! Perhaps I should send for Doctor Jones.”
“No need for that, dear. It’s nothing serious.”
It was definitely something serious, and Matilda was running out of time. Where had it all gone? She stared out the window. The setting sun glowed pink against the freshly fallen snow. A few beams broke through the dense forest around the cottage, so the trees gleamed as well.
Red studied her grandmother for a moment, then busied herself slicing the loaf of bread in her basket and spreading strawberry preserves over it. Matilda pulled the nightcap further down over her ears.
“I think you should come back to town with me, Granny. Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you love living out here, but it isn’t safe! What if you get sick? What if the wolves attack?”
Matilda’s already enormous eyes widened.
“What’s this about wolves?”
Red swallowed.
“The pack is on the move again. A few people have seen them. They haven’t attacked anyone yet, but it could happen again. Granny-”
Her voice trailed away. Matilda knew what she was thinking, and thank goodness Red was too young to remember all the details.
Two humans and one wolf dead in the snow. Crimson blood scattered against white. A hunt gone horribly wrong.
And in the middle of it all, a baby left alone in the world. Too weak to cry. Too cold to crawl.
Matilda blinked back tears. That hunt had left her daughter dead. It was always risky to explore new territory, but she had never dreamed it would end like that.
Red sat on the edge of Matilda’s bed and patted her shoulder.
“They’re avoiding people so far, but you would be safer in town.”
Matilda swallowed. She wouldn’t be safer there. She wouldn’t be safe anywhere for much longer.
“I’m sure it’s not so serious as all that. This cottage is my home, Red. I won’t leave it as long as I have a choice. Now tell me all about your young man. Has he proposed yet?”
“Granny, this is serious! I want you to be safe!”
“And I want you to be happy.”
Red’s blush told Matilda all she needed to know.
“So he has proposed. Why didn’t you tell me, Red?”
“He asked a few days ago, but I can’t! I can’t leave you alone, Granny.”
Matilda’s ears twitched. She pulled her cap further down.
“You told him that? You refused him?”
“I told him I needed time. That I can’t leave you alone. He said he understands, Granny. He said you could live with us, but he has to stay in town to take care of his bakery. You would have your own room. We would make sure you were comfortable.”
“I won’t leave my cottage, Red, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get married.”
“But I would have new responsibilities, Granny. I couldn‘t come out and see you every day if I were married. What if the wolves attack?”
“The wolves won’t attack.”
Matilda said it with such certainty that Red didn’t question her. At least, not out loud.
A howl cut through the air. A wolf.
Matilda’s ears twitched again, and she frowned. Time was even shorter than she had realized. She would have to hurry her plan along.
“Very well, you win, Red. I’ll move to town if it will make you happy, but you must go back to your young man and accept him this very moment. It won’t do to keep him waiting.”
Red’s smile made Matilda’s heart swell. Her daughter had smiled like that when she had told Matilda of her own engagement.
The wolf howled again. Red’s smile slipped a little, but Matilda’s didn’t waver.
“Go back to town and tell your young man the news. The wolf is too far away to bother you.”
Red kissed her grandmother’s cheek and left in such a hurry that she forgot her basket. Matilda eased out of her bed and watched the red cloak disappear into the shadows of the woods. She stood in the doorway and stared at the path long after Red had gone.
The sun slipped below the horizon, and the nearly full moon cast a silver glow over the snow. Something moved at the edge of the trees, and enormous yellow eyes watched Matilda from the shadows. She could just make out the silhouette of a large gray wolf with a white muzzle.
Her heartbeat quickened, but she didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She and the wolf simply stared at each other until dusk swallowed his shape and he melted back into the forest.
***
“Grandmother, what big teeth you have!”
Matilda fought the urge to cover her mouth. It was true. She did have big teeth.
“Don’t be rude, Red. Hand me a cookie and tell me how it went with your young man yesterday.”
“But, Granny! You aren’t well. Your teeth are enormous!”
“The better to eat all the treats you brought.”
“And your eyes?”
“The better to see your smiling face.”
“And your ears?”
Matilda sighed. Even her frilliest cap couldn’t cover the bump of her ears now.
“The better to hear your story. Did you accept him?”
Something in Matilda’s expression kept Red from commenting further on her teeth.
“I did. Granny, why the sudden interest in my getting married? I have plenty of time.”
“You never have as much time as you think you do, Red.”
“We’re already making plans for your room. Most of the living quarters are above the shop, but we thought the stairs might be difficult for you. We’re going to empty a storeroom.”
Matilda raised an eyebrow, and Red flushed.
“It’s nicer than it sounds. You’ll have your own fireplace.”
“That sounds lovely, dear.”
It did sound lovely. Matilda could picture herself sitting in a chair by the fire, listening to Red and her young man baking and taking care of customers. Their cheerfulness would do her heart good.
It was a shame it would never happen. She needed to act before they moved supplies out of the storeroom. No need to make unnecessary work for them.
“Grandmother, what’s wrong?”
Matilda blinked back tears she hadn’t realized she was crying.
“Your mother was just as happy when she married. I am so glad that you’ll be settled and comfortable.”
“We both will, Granny. This will be good for both of us.”
Matilda took a bite of the cookie. A bigger bite than she intended because of her enormous teeth. It took her a few moments to chew and swallow it.
“Yes, we will both be happy very soon, Red. You should get back to the village before it gets dark.”
A wolf howled in the distance as if it agreed with her. Red frowned.
“I don’t want to leave you alone, Granny. Maybe I should stay with you tonight. We could pack up your things.”
Matilda glanced around the cottage.
“There isn’t much to pack.”
“You’re almost out of firewood. I don’t want you to be cold.”
“I have all I need for tonight. Go back and have dinner with your young man. You don’t want to waste a moment of time with the people you love.”
“But I love you, Granny.”
“And I love you, Red. Don’t forget your basket this time.”
Red leaned forward and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. Matilda’s enormous eyes filled with tears as she watched her granddaughter leave. She leaned against her pillows and marveled at the bright young woman Red had become. Shadows lengthened in the cottage as the sun set. The moon would rise soon.
The full moon.
A wolf’s howl interrupted her musings. Enormous yellow eyes peered in her window, and Matilda scowled.
“Yes, yes. I’m coming.”
The wolf huffed, leaving a cloud of condensation on the glass. Then he pressed his nose against the window and whined.
Normally, Matilda would be upset about the nose print, but that window was no longer her concern.
She pulled a piece of paper from her desk and stared at it. What should she tell Red? She had always meant to tell her the whole truth, but she had waited too long. There wasn’t time for that.
Matilda dipped her pen in the inkwell and wrote as fast as she could. The words came more easily than she had expected.
My Dearest Granddaughter,
I am so proud of the woman you have become and so happy that you have found your young man and made a life for yourself. Thank you for offering to include me in that life, but I am afraid it cannot be. I have another love, and he needs me more than you do now. I wish you all the best, my darling Red. Please do not fret about me. I am rejoining my
Moonlight filled the room, and a spasm rocked Matilda’s body. She dropped the pen as memories and magic overcame her.
***
A wolf and two humans dead in the snow. Matilda smelled the blood long before she found them. She couldn’t help the low whine that escaped her throat when she saw her daughter’s body. That sound roused the baby, and the young wolf whimpered. Matilda hurried over to her granddaughter and sniffed. The cub was injured as well. What had happened? Matilda knew her daughter would never attack humans without cause. Had the humans attacked her?
It was always dangerous to hunt in new territory, but they had been desperate for prey. And humans rarely bothered wolves. Had they threatened the baby? That would have been reason enough for her daughter to fight.
The baby needed help. Her injuries were beyond what the pack healer could treat, and she wouldn’t survive the journey to him.
Matilda stared for a moment, blinking her enormous golden eyes at the moonlight sparkling on the snow. She smelled other humans nearby. A village. There would be a doctor there.
But the baby was too young to handle the magic. If she shifted now, she would never turn back to a wolf. She would be human for the rest of her life.
If she didn’t shift now, the rest of her life wouldn’t be very long.
Matilda gathered her magic and began to change. Moonlight brightened into a white glow around her. As soon as her paws turned into hands, she picked up the wolf cub and wrapped her granddaughter in the magic as well. Their teeth flattened. Their ears pulled in towards their heads. Their eyes shrank and dimmed.
The smell of humans faded, but Matilda knew which way to go. Her fur had turned into a dress in the transformation, but the baby was naked. Matilda removed the dead woman’s bright red headscarf and wrapped it around her granddaughter. It was speckled with blood, but the color hid the stains.
Red. The doctor would expect a human baby to have a human name. Matilda tried to think of something else, but the color filled her senses. Red would have to do.
She hurried through the moonlit snow, not slowing down when an enormous wolf with a gray muzzle joined her. The light around him began to brighten, but Matilda shook her head.
“The pack needs you, dearest.”
He whimpered. Matilda patted his head.
“Of course I’ll miss you, and I’ll rejoin you as soon as I’m able. As soon as our granddaughter is established and can take care of herself.”
Matilda’s mate stared at her with gleaming yellow eyes. Then he nodded once and melted into the forest. Matilda saw lights from the village twinkling in the distance and began to run.
***
The pen rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. Matilda reached for it and overturned the inkwell. It spilled all over her shaking paw. She tried to move the paper away from the pool of ink, but it was too late. She left a large, black footprint on the page.  Matilda growled. She had more she wanted to say. It was unfair to leave Red with half a note. It would make her worry.
Matilda tried to shift back, but her magic was spent. She had spent far too long in human form. She thumped her tail, trying to think of a solution.
Her cottage window shattered as the large wolf jumped through. Matilda glared at him, but he lolled his tongue unapologetically and licked her face. She huffed, but her wagging tail betrayed how pleased she was to see him. He bent down and growled playfully. She growled back. He tilted his head towards the window, and she tilted her head towards the note. It was unfinished and covered with spilled ink and a wolf footprint. What would Red think?
Matilda’s mate nuzzled her shoulder to comfort her. She sat there for a moment, soaking in his warmth and nuzzling him back. It had been so long. Was her muzzle as white as his now?
Outside the cottage, a faint voice floated on the breeze.
“Thank you for coming with me. She said she has enough firewood for the night, but I know she doesn’t. She can be so stubborn.”
Red.
“I know you worry about her, dearest, but I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll empty the storeroom first thing tomorrow morning.”
And her young man.
Matilda’s mate jumped out the window and howled a warning to the pack. Matilda’s ears twitched as she took one last look at the unfinished note. Then she leaped through the window and bared her teeth in warning at her mate. Whatever else happened, they would not harm Red or that young man.
Red burst into the clearing and screamed when she saw two wolves and the broken window. The woodsman-turned-baker froze in surprise for a moment. Then he put an arm around Red and raised his axe.
Matilda stared at Red with her enormous yellow eyes. Red stared back. Then she put her hand on her fiancée’s arm and pulled it down until his axe hung in the snow.
“Red?”
She squeezed his arm and stepped towards the wolves. He pulled her back but didn’t raise the axe again. Matilda’s mate studied Red’s young man quite thoroughly before he huffed his approval.
A wolf howl in the distance broke the spell. The pack asking if they needed help. The young man lifted the axe again, looking between the wolves and the shattered window with an anguished expression.
Matilda’s mate raised his hackles, ready to defend her against the threat.
She leaned against him and huffed. He met her gaze, and she shook her head. His yellow eyes softened, and he turned towards the woods.
“Wait!” Red said.
But Matilda couldn’t wait any longer. She followed her mate through the snow and disappeared into the forest.
Want More Free Stories? Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my take on Little Red Riding Hood. This story was originally sent as a gift to my newsletter subscribers, and I send free stories in my  newsletter every month.

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Or see the full book on Amazon Chapter One Rosemary Mercer watched from the corner of her eye while Tonio bustled around the storeroom. He hummed to himself as he took stock of their inventory, checking the same shelf for the third time. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted, and there was no reason to be nervous while doing routine work.
Unless…
Rosemary sat up a little straighter at her desk and smoothed her golden-brown hair.
There was no reason for Tonio to be nervous unless he was finally going to propose.
She gave up working on the balance sheets spread in front of her and studied Tonio. Her father’s apprentice moved around the shop, appearing busy and accomplishing nothing. His straw-colored hair was neater than usual, as if he had brushed it with care that morning. He wore his best clothes, the new green trousers that were not yet stained with ink and mended with patches.
Rosemary smoothed her skirt and wished she had known to wear her best clothes as well. She wasn’t vain, but even she wanted to look her best when her intended asked for her hand in marriage.
She had assumed Tonio would make more fuss over a proposal. That he would ask her to accompany him on a picnic or a walk along the river. Then she would have known to wear her best gown and style her hair instead of pulling it back in the usual braid.
But perhaps this was best. Something neat and tidy with minimal interruption to their work.
At least he was going to propose, even if his methods were less than romantic. Rosemary felt a rush of affection as Tonio’s papers slipped out of his hands and scattered across the floor. Was he that nervous? Poor lad. Didn’t he know that she would say yes? That she was expecting it?
She had been expecting it since he became their father’s apprentice four years ago. The advantages were obvious, and they got along well. It had become clearer and clearer to Rosemary over the years that this was their path.
And now everything would be settled, and the one small uncertainty about Rosemary’s future would be neatly tied up like the parcels stacked around their shop.
She left her place at the desk and hurried across the room to help Tonio pick up the papers.
“Thanks,” he said softly as she knelt beside him on the wooden planks. “I don’t know what’s come over me today.”
The papers shook along with his hands, and Rosemary placed her fingers around his wrists to steady them.
“It’s fine,” she said.
She smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and Tonio grinned back. They were close enough to each other that she could see every freckle dotting his nose, and she knew that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Those bits of gold were one of her best features, but you had to be close to observe them.
“Do you want some fresh air?” Tonio said, letting go of her hands and stuffing the papers on the nearest shelf. “We could step into the courtyard and check on the bird.”
A convenient excuse. Did he have something planned after all? Rosemary nodded and followed him.
Tonio didn’t offer his arm, and Rosemary tried not to mind. It was a short distance to the courtyard in the center of their house, and there wasn’t room for them to walk side by side through the door.
She inhaled deeply as they entered the courtyard. It was large for a house in the middle of town, and she treasured the space. She treasured the roses that climbed the walls and scented the air.
Her mother’s roses. As always, Rosemary brushed her fingers against the flowers, as if she could feel her mother’s love in the garden she had tended with such care.
“I think he’s recovered,” Tonio said. “Should we release him?”
He held up a small cage that contained a thrush. The bird hopped around, studying them with wary, bright eyes. Tonio had rescued it a few days ago from some village lads who had caught it in a snare intending to keep it as a pet, and he and Rosemary had been nursing it back to health ever since.
“Of course,” Rosemary said. “If he’s well enough, he should go free.”
Tonio opened the cage, and they stepped back to give the bird space. Rosemary placed a hand on Tonio’s shoulder and pulled him back a little farther so they stood huddled together in the corner of the courtyard.
The thrush chirped a few times and fluttered out of the cage. It didn’t fly away immediately as Rosemary had expected. Instead, it hopped into a rosebush and pulled a snail off one of the leaves. Rosemary frowned as she watched the bird eat. How had she missed the snails in the garden? She would need to check for more and get rid of them before they damaged the plants.
As hard as she tried, she was not the master gardener her mother had been. Thank goodness the bird had found the threat.
“Maybe he’ll stick around and eat the rest,” Tonio said.
“I hope so. This would be a safe home for him.”
She turned and realized that Tonio was looking down at her. He swallowed and brushed a strand of his straw-blond hair away from his face. Then he took her hand and held it. His touch was gentle, and she could feel that he was still trembling.
“Rosemary, I—”
Voices echoed from inside, and the courtyard door swung open. Tonio quickly pulled away from Rosemary and dropped her hand. She turned to face the newcomer, doing her best to hide her disappointment.
Blast it all. They had been so close.
“Oh! Am I interrupting anything?” Sorrel asked.
“No, not at all,” Rosemary said.
Then she glared at her younger sister, trying to signal her to get lost.
Sorrel only giggled. At sixteen years old, she was three years younger than Rosemary, but she should still be old enough to recognize when she wasn’t wanted.
But Sorrel was not picking up on the hints. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and she tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder. She was tall and elegant, and the gesture was graceful.
And completely annoying.
“Did you need something?” Rosemary asked.
“Where is everyone?” another voice called from the shop.
A few moments later, Sorrel’s twin Dahlia appeared.
Only those who knew them well could see the resemblances in Sorrel and Dahlia that one expected to find in twins. It manifested in their mischievous expressions and personalities rather than their physical appearances. While Sorrel and Rosemary took after their father’s darker coloring, Dahlia took after their mother. She had a fair complexion with rosy pink cheeks. Her eyes were blue and her hair blond and wavy. This, combined with her soft manner of speaking, made new acquaintances assume that she was the gentlest of the sisters. A quiet maiden with reserved manners.
Rosemary knew better.
“Oh,” Dahlia said, looking from Tonio to Rosemary. “Oh my.”
“We were checking on the thrush,” Rosemary said. “Leave, or you’ll frighten it.”
“Is it recovered?” Sorrel asked.
She came farther into the courtyard to look. The thrush chirped in alarm and flew away.
“It was kind of you to rescue the bird,” Dahlia said to Tonio.
“It shows you’ll be a caring father one day,” Sorrel added.
She gave an innocent smile, and Tonio flushed bright red.
“Excuse me. I have an errand across town.”
He nodded to the ladies and hurried away. Rosemary scowled at her sisters.
“You shouldn’t tease him like that.”
“Did we interrupt his proposal?” Sorrel asked. “I hope not. Who would propose in a shop?”
“The same man who expects his wife to work in one,” Dahlia said.
Rosemary huffed and pushed past her sisters. She passed the narrow staircase that led to their living quarters on the second floor and returned to the storeroom. The interruption had cost her a morning’s work and yielded no results. She sat at her desk and looked over her balance sheets.
Profits were down. A quick glance at the numbers was enough to tell her that.
Blast it all.
“So he didn’t propose?” Sorrel said.
She sat on the edge of the desk. Rosemary ignored the question and pulled her papers away so her sister wouldn’t crumple them.
“Perhaps Tonio would be more inclined to see you as a bride if you acted like one,” Dahlia said. “As long as you’re working on sums together, you might as well be just another apprentice.”
“A marriage is a partnership,” Rosemary began.
“And each must do their part,” Sorrel and Dahlia finished with her.
The three sisters looked at each other then shrugged. This was a familiar conversation, and there was little to be gained from having it yet again.
“Did you need something?” Rosemary asked.
She loved her sisters, but she was not feeling kindly toward them right now. Sorrel grinned.
“Yes, we did! There’s gossip from the docks that the crown prince will pass through town today. You must come watch the carriages with us!”
“I’ve seen carriages before.”
“Yes, but this one has a prince in it!” Dahlia said.
Her voice squeaked with excitement, and Rosemary sighed. Perhaps it was because she would soon be engaged, but she just didn’t see the appeal of swooning after a prince.
“They say he’s still unattached,” Dahlia said. “That none of the court ladies are fine enough to please him.”
She grabbed a paper off the desk and fluttered it like a fan. Rosemary snatched it away and smoothed out the wrinkles.
“And you think you’ll win his heart?”
“Someone is bound to,” Sorrel said. “If he doesn’t like the stuffy ladies of court, perhaps he prefers the fresh maidens of the countryside.”
Rosemary snorted.
“Abberley is hardly the countryside. It’s the second largest city in Eldria.”
“There is country around it,” Dahlia said. “Even farms. I could pass as a country maiden if I tried.”
The bell over the door jingled. Rosemary looked up, hoping that Tonio had returned, but the silhouette in the door frame was the decidedly feminine shape of their friend Irene Sand. Irene’s father was one of their father’s closest friends, so they had been friends with her practically since birth.
“It’s coming!” Irene squealed. “The carriage is coming!”
Her tall, thin frame quivered with excitement, making her wavy, brown hair rustle as she moved.
“Don’t tell me you’re obsessed as well?” Rosemary said.
A commotion in the town square outside kept Irene from answering.
“He’s here!” Dahlia and Sorrel screamed in unison.
They jumped to their feet and hurried out the door.
“Come with us, Rosemary,” Irene insisted. “You never know. You may catch someone’s eye.”
Rosemary sighed. She didn’t need to catch someone’s eye, but she should probably make sure Sorrel and Dahlia didn’t cause any trouble. She followed Irene out the door and into the town square.
It was crowded. More crowded than it would be even for a market day. Apparently word of the prince’s visit had spread quickly. Everyone wore their best clothes, and Rosemary once again felt that she’d missed the announcement to dress up.
Then again, what did it matter? The townspeople had all seen her dressed like this before, and the prince was simply passing through on the way to his castle in the mountains. He had never stopped before, and Rosemary saw no reason for this time to be any different.
His Royal Highness Crown Prince Darian D’Eldria had decided some months ago to renovate the ruins of Rosewell Castle in the mountains above their town. Life in Abberley had been hectic ever since. Ships loaded with building materials and luxury goods filled the docks. Craftsmen and carpenters filled the inns.
And now the prince’s admirers filled the streets.
A cheer spread through the crowd. Dahlia, Sorrel, and Irene pushed their way through until they stood at the front of the space left open for the carriages. Rosemary stayed back, standing on the stone foundation of her house to gain a few inches and better see over the mass of people.
Guards on horseback passed first. Their weapons gleamed in the sun, and the crowd cheered appreciatively. The cheering only grew louder when the great, black carriage trimmed in gold rolled through the streets. It was enormous, and the crowd pushed back to make way.
At least, most of them did. Sorrel and Dahlia pushed forward, waving their handkerchiefs and nearly getting their skirts caught in the wheels.
Rosemary was no expert on princes, but she doubted that Prince Darian would appreciate his journey being delayed because a lady caught her skirt in his wheel. She sighed in relief as the carriage rumbled past her sisters without incident.
More guards followed behind the carriage while a few riders split off from the group and stayed behind. Most of the crowd chased after the procession once it was past, calling out to the prince as if he cared what they had to say.
Once the crowd cleared, Rosemary turned her attention to the men who remained in the square. She recognized the prince’s steward from past visits, as well as several of the lead craftsmen and accountants who dealt with the merchants and arranged for materials to be delivered.
Rosemary studied the men. The castle’s renovation had led to an increase in trade in Abberley, but so far all the new contracts had gone to the Puerco family. Lupita Puerco was head of the trade guild and had seized the opportunity with an iron grip. Her oldest grandson Mattone was master of the weights of Abberley, in charge of keeping the standard measures safe and using them to weigh shipments and trades to make sure everyone was honest. Mattone’s wife was the daughter of the master brick mason in town, so it was natural that the crown prince was using the Puercos to ship the bricks and stones he needed.
Lupita’s second grandson, Palo, had married the heiress to the largest forestry operation and sawmill in the area. So they provided the wood.
And once those arrangements had been made, the prince had simply continued using the Puercos for everything else. Rosemary understood the politics in play, but that didn’t mean she liked them.
Granted, she was playing the same game. Tonio was Lupita’s youngest grandson. It had seemed like great fortune when he had tired of working in the family business and taken an apprenticeship with her father instead. It had strengthened their relationship with the Puercos, giving Rosemary a foothold in places she would otherwise have been shut out of. Her and Tonio’s marriage would unite their companies’ interests and secure her family’s future.
If he ever proposed.
Rosemary pushed away the doubt that crept in when she thought of the proposal. Tonio was simply shy and taking his time. He had always been shy and taken his time. There was no cause for concern.
She blinked, bringing herself back to the present. More worrying than Tonio or the Puercos was the man staring at her from across the town square. He sat on his horse, not moving. She hopped off the stone she was still standing on and stared back at him.
He was a big man, tall and muscled, although not in the same way the dock workers or farmers were. He was more polished than that. His black hair was neatly trimmed so it framed his face in dark waves. His short beard was neatly trimmed as well, adding strength to an already imposing jawline. His eyes were black and studying her with open curiosity.
At least, she hoped it was curiosity. It might be disdain, hatred even. But she had done nothing to make this man hate her. Rosemary suspected he always looked like that, as if he had examined the world and found it wanting. It was something in the downward tilt of his eyebrows. The upward tilt of his chin.
He was still staring, so she kept staring as well. It had become a contest of wills, and she grinned a little as his scowl deepened. She wasn’t that easily defeated.
He was handsome in his haughty way. Very handsome, if she was honest. Rosemary’s face flushed a little at the thought. She was about to be engaged. She shouldn’t be admiring other men.
Even if there was a lot to admire.
The prince’s steward approached the man and said something, forcing him to look away. Rosemary smiled in triumph. She had won their strange contest.
The man nodded to her, then dismounted and followed the steward toward the town hall.
More business for the Puercos.
Rosemary watched him go and studied his clothes. They were well cut but not as fine as those of the steward or the nobles who sometimes rode through to call on the prince. She decided he must be some sort of servant.
She kept watching until the men disappeared into the town hall. Best of luck to them. They would need it when negotiating with the Puercos.
Rosemary ducked back into the shop and returned to her balance sheets. She had hoped to improve the numbers before her father returned from his latest trading journey, but he was due back any day, and she had still not managed to secure any new business. People smiled at her when she mentioned the Mercer’s competitive rates and superior service, but they had yet to take her up on her offer. The Puercos owned Abberley, and try as she might, Rosemary could not find a way to break into their business stronghold.
How was it possible to live in a place your whole life and still feel like a newcomer? Hopefully her marriage with Tonio would make the residents of Abberley feel more at ease about trading with her.
Or perhaps she should look for customers elsewhere.
The bell jingled, and Rosemary sighed. How was she supposed to balance books when she kept getting interrupted?
“We’re going to the meadow to pick wildflowers,” Dahlia said in a breathless voice. “Won’t you come with us?”
She and Irene sat on stools and fanned themselves while Sorrel ran upstairs to the family living quarters and returned with hats.
“You mean you’re climbing up the mountain to watch for the prince,” Rosemary said.
“And to pick flowers,” Irene said. “If he happens to notice us from his castle window, well, that can’t be helped.”
“You’re hopeless,” Rosemary said.
“Says the girl doing sums for her not-yet-fiancé,” Sorrel said. “Honestly, Rosemary, you should let Tonio do that. It’s part of his apprenticeship. How is he supposed to learn to run a business if you do everything for him?”
“I don’t do everything for him,” Rosemary said. “Just the things I’m better at. Besides, marriage—”
“Is a partnership,” Sorrel, Dahlia, and Irene finished for her.
Rosemary laughed with them, then turned to Irene.
“Your father sometimes sells lumber from his land, doesn’t he?”
Irene nodded.
“Especially now that we’re clearing more fields. It seemed like good timing since we expected the prince to want lumber, but his inspector said our trees weren’t pretty enough.”
“Not pretty enough?”
Irene nodded, and Rosemary laughed. What sort of man rejected a tree because it wasn’t pretty?
“Have they rejected other trees?” Rosemary asked.
Irene nodded.
“And stones. Even some crops. My father complains about it all the time. The prince’s agents insist that everything must be perfect.”
Rosemary grinned. That meant there was a surplus of goods building up in Abberley. Goods that were perfectly serviceable, whatever Crown Prince Darian thought of them.
Goods that needed to be shipped, and goods that the Puercos weren’t bothering with because they were too busy to notice the opportunity.
“You’re sure you won’t come?” Dahlia said as she moved toward the door. “Some of the other girls are coming. It will be fun, even if we don’t see the prince.”
“I’m sure. Tonio will be back any moment, and I think he wanted to talk to me about something.”
“I wonder what that could be?” Sorrel said mischievously.
She fluttered her eyelashes, grabbed her hat, and hurried out the door. Dahlia and Irene followed her, and Rosemary took a deep breath, enjoying the quiet before she once again turned back to her books. The balance sheets stretched out in a long column, and for a moment she wished she had gone with her sisters to get some fresh air.
That wish disappeared as she began to calculate the numbers and lost herself in the flow of her work. Her mind raced with possibilities as she looked over the numbers and thought of the prince’s rejected building materials.
The Puercos had secured all the prince’s business, but there were other businesses in town. Perhaps they were also being neglected while the Puercos courted the royals.
“Ugly trees,” she said with a laugh.
Then she bit her lip, trying to make all the pieces fit together. The Puercos had tied up their resources to please the prince, but that business would not last forever. Once Rosewell Castle was finished, the extra business would go away.
Other supply chains would not.
But who would want trees? No one in Eldria. The country had timber to spare.
Rosemary stared at the map hanging on the wall, scanning over the countries until her eyes settled on Santelle. The country across the sea was renowned for their navy and preferred to import goods so that their own citizens could serve as officers.
And a navy was unlikely to care how attractive their lumber was.
Rosemary grinned. If she could find a way to get the excess lumber across the sea, she would have a very profitable shipping venture in a place where the Puercos didn’t matter and couldn’t stop her.
There was only one problem. The Mercers didn’t own a ship suitable for shipping lumber. Not on a large scale. Their ships were small, and they would not be able to carry enough lumber to be worth the trip to Santelle.
But where would they get the extra money to buy another ship? Rosemary began to calculate, seeing what assets could be sold and estimating how much they could borrow. She briefly considered the funds she had saved for Sorrel’s and Dahlia’s dowries, but quickly rejected the idea. No matter how good the opportunity, she would not gamble with her sisters’ futures.
And even if she included that amount, she still came up short. She tapped her quill pen against her nose in frustration. It was a golden opportunity, but she didn’t have enough gold to make it happen.
She set down her quill and stared at the wall, trying to work out the answer, until the bell above the door once again rang and interrupted her.
Chapter Two His Royal Highness Crown Prince Darian D’Eldria shifted impatiently in his saddle. He had insisted on a standard issue saddle to complete his disguise, but he regretted the decision now. Apparently the comfort of low-level administrative assistants was not a priority to the saddle makers of Eldria.
The horse was no better. He missed his thoroughbred stallion, but riding Onyx into town would definitely have attracted the wrong kind of attention. So he endured the nondescript brown nag he had selected from the stables, jerking from side to side as the horse ambled on with an uneven gait.
Darian shifted again. The journey was almost over, and his legs had gone numb. Blasted commoners slowing everything down. They gathered around the procession, cheering and pointing at the royal carriage that rolled ahead of the riders. It was empty. A decoy to keep attention away from him and further establish his disguise.
“It seems to be working,” Harris said.
The steward turned, tilting his head so that his wide-brimmed hat hid his face from their fellow riders. Harris had sandy-blond hair and fair skin that burned easily, so the large hat was a necessary if not fashionable accessory.
The prince smirked. It was worth an uncomfortable saddle and scratchy tunic if he was able to keep a low profile and move about Abberley without being swarmed by riffraff. There were many details to work out for the renovation of his castle, and he preferred to be personally involved in as many of them as possible. It had been impossible to do so from the castle, where he had stayed on his previous trips.
Three young women pushed into the street, so close to the carriage that their skirts were in danger of being caught in the wheels. Perhaps that was their plan. What better way to catch a prince’s attention? They giggled and waved handkerchiefs at the darkened window they thought contained His Royal Highness.
“Insufferable,” Darian muttered.
Harris hid his laugh behind a cough. The carriage drove straight through the town on its way to the castle. The guards followed it up the mountain, and the crowd dispersed or hiked after it, muttering in disappointment as they realized the prince would not be making a public appearance. The group of young ladies giggled again, then walked with determination down the road the carriage had traveled. Darian raised an eyebrow. Surely they didn’t intend to walk all the way to the castle and accost the prince in his own home?
Then again, stranger things had happened.
He looked around the town square and stopped when he saw a woman above the crowd. As the people cleared, he realized she was standing on a stone jutting out of the building’s foundation. A clever solution to see the procession without getting anywhere near the wheels.
She noticed him staring and stared back, offering some kind of challenge in her warm, brown eyes. Darian met her gaze, intrigued. Had she recognized him?
Doubtful. She would be more respectful if she knew she was staring at her future sovereign. She hopped down from the stone and continued to stare. She seemed amused rather than intimidated, so Darian studied her with interest.
She wore the usual clothes of a common woman from a small town. A simple cotton dress secured with an apron. Her shoes were well-worn boots. Immensely practical for the dusty dirt trails that passed for roads here, but hardly fashionable. Her thick, brown hair was streaked with gold and pulled back in a long braid. Her eyes were bright and lined with thick brows that made her expression seem more intense than most of the ladies of his acquaintance.
The combination was forgettable and ordinary, so why was he still staring at her? What was it about those eyes that kept him from looking away?
He studied her again, looking for anything he might have missed, and decided there was a little beauty in her face. And perhaps moderately good fortune, if her serviceable but elegant blue dress was any indication. The fabric was plain, but it fit her well. Was she an accomplished seamstress, or had she hired it out?
“We’re ready to go to the Puercos,” Harris said.
Darian turned to him, sad to lose whatever game they had been playing. But if he wanted to look convincing in his servant disguise, he couldn’t ignore the prince’s steward.
He dismounted and followed Harris across the town square, walking slowly as his legs tingled and regained feeling. The horse trailed behind him, walking even slower than he did. Darian glanced back to check on it and found the woman still watching him. He swallowed as he realized another reason she might be staring.
Darian had thought this disguise would protect him from fortune-hunting women, but perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps, while her friends were chasing the prince, this woman had decided to pursue an easier target.
He tried to dismiss the suspicion, mostly because he didn’t want it to be true. Why would she be interested in a servant? There was no obvious reason that she would need to look for a husband beyond the village.
Perhaps she was tired of this provincial town and thought a government official could offer her a more exciting life in the capital city.
Or perhaps she had some hidden defect that had scared away the local men. Something that would only be obvious upon closer acquaintance and could be hidden until after she had snared whichever palace official she chose.
He was being discourteous. Perhaps she was simply curious about their group. There was no reason to get so flustered by the gaze of a single common woman.
He looked around the town square to distract himself. It was typical of villages this size, although slightly larger than most because of the river port that offered access to the ocean and beyond. The town square had a fountain in the middle where residents could fetch drinking water and shops around the outside.
Each shop had a carved wooden sign above the door advertising its wares for those who couldn’t read. Shoes, needles, meat, and more decorated the signs. They were two-story structures, with storefronts and warehouses below and family living quarters above. It was a practical if not aesthetically pleasing arrangement. Darian couldn’t imagine walking through a store to get to his house.
The wooden sign above the woman’s door was shaped like a rose. A florist? He stared a little longer and realized there was a ship in the center of the flower.
A merchant perhaps. Although, if that were the case, this merchant had rather artistic leanings.
Actually, that may be exactly what he needed.
“Are you done gawking, Jones?” Harris said, far louder than necessary.
Darian scowled at him, and the steward’s eyes twinkled. Harris was enjoying this charade a bit too much for Darian’s liking.
“Yes. Sir.”
Darian said it with clenched teeth, prompting Harris to laugh out loud and clap his hand against Darian’s back.
“Good lad. Come. We have business in the town hall.”
They started walking again, heading to the ugly building across the town square. Darian glared as if it had been built as a personal insult to him.
In fact, it had been built before he was born. The original stone was brick, stained dark with age, and the style was heavy and unornamented. It had been constructed in a time when solid and practical was the order of the day.
Whoever had expanded the building centuries later had tastes that veered in the opposite direction. The newer part of the town hall was all bright windows and climbing towers decorated with as many plaster ornaments as they could fit onto the surface of the building.
Both halves showed an unfortunate lack of taste. Combined together in the same building, the effect was truly offensive. This building would be the first thing to go once Darian finished his castle and turned his attention to the town. He refused to have such an eyesore near his castle.
Harris and Darian handed their horses off to stable-boys and walked through the building. It wasn’t any better on the inside. A mismatched collage of wood and brick with straw scattered over the floor to catch dirt from their boots.
Harris cleared his throat, and Darian realized he had been striding ahead of the steward. He slowed his pace and forced himself to walk a few steps behind. His jaw clenched with the effort of taking a lesser place. Hardly pleasant for one who was used to being in charge, but it was necessary if he wanted to get anything done during this visit. This meeting would be the final test of his disguise.
“Steward Harris, welcome.”
An elderly woman sat at the head of the table in the large meeting room. Her silver hair was slicked back in a tight bun, making her already sharp features look even sharper. She smiled, but it reminded Darian more of a snarl than anything else. A giant of a man with red hair on his head, chin, and most of his body sat on her right. The man on her left looked small in comparison, although he was muscled and tan and still intimidating in his own way.
“It is an honor, Madam Puerco. May I introduce my assistant Jones? He will be running errands for me while I’m here.”
Harris bowed, and Darian forced himself to do the same. Lupita. Head of the merchant guild and matriarch of the Puerco family. She had her elegant thumb firmly on the throat of Abberley via her grandsons. She was also the only person in Abberley who had ever seen Prince Darian in person. But that had been at a court function a few years ago. Would she remember?
Lupita’s silver eyes ran over Darian as if he were simply part of the background, then settled back on Harris.
Perfect. His disguise had worked.
“You remember my grandsons, Steward? Mattone and Palo?”
“A pleasure,” Harris said, smiling pleasantly.
Darian cleared his throat, nudging Harris to move things along. They were still standing, as Lupita had not offered them an invitation to join her at the table, and his legs were tingling again. She was showing off her power, reminding them they were on her turf. Harris cast a sideways warning glance at Darian, then smiled his warmest smile at Lupita.
“Madam Puerco, I trust you have reviewed our proposals?”
He pulled a chair out for himself and sat without being invited. Another power move. Darian joined Harris at the table, earning a glare from everyone there before they once again forgot he existed.
“Your proposals are ridiculous,” Lupita said. “Absolutely out of the question.”
Darian could have sworn she snapped her teeth at them.
“They are not open for negotiation,” Harris said. “His Royal Highness Crown Prince Darian has already approved them. I simply sent them ahead as a courtesy so that you would be aware of the impending changes.”
“Changing the name of the town?” Lupita said. “Tearing down city hall?”
“It is well within His Highness’s rights,” Harris said. “He will build you a new city hall.”
“Hmmph. This town has been Abberley for centuries. I see no reason to change the name to Rosewell simply to satisfy His Highness’s whims. He’ll forget the matter soon enough.”
She nodded as if that settled the matter. Her grandsons mirrored the gesture. The red-haired one looked solid as a brick wall, and the brown-haired one’s arm muscles bulged.
Ridiculous. These country bumpkin officials were trying to intimidate Harris.
“You dare to defy the command of His Royal Highness?” Darian said. “If you have objections, why has the mayor not come to discuss the matter?”
He met Lupita’s glare with one of his own. Her silver eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. For one moment he thought she recognized him. Then her eyes narrowed, and she turned to Harris.
“Send that young man away until he has learned his place. I came here to meet with you for an official discussion, not to have some young pup question my every move.”
Darian leaned forward at the insult. The red giant leaned forward as well, shielding his grandmother. Harris glared at both of them.
“No need for that,” he said. “Jones, I believe you have errands to run in town. Now would be a good time to complete them.”
“But I—”
“That was not a request.”
Darian’s eyes flashed, but he swallowed his rage and stormed from the room before he said something he would regret. Insufferable provincial commoners. They were lucky their town had such a scenic view, or he would forget this place and take his business elsewhere.
Speaking of business, Darian had an order to make. He stood in the middle of the town square, considering the shops. He had planned to have the Puercos handle this. They had proved competent so far.
But he was in no mood to give such insufferable people more of his business. Darian’s eyes settled on the shop with the rose carved above the doorway, and he laughed to himself as he walked toward it. A rose. Perhaps it was meant to be.
​Want more? See Princess of Roses on Amazon.

As you all know, Princess of Roses is scheduled to release October 23. Unfortunately, I'm not going to have the book ready by then and am pushing back the release date to November. This was not an easy decision. I hate to disappoint you all and am eager to share the story. However, I respect your time too much to give you a book that isn't as good as it can be, and I love these characters too much to give them a half-hearted ending.
That’s probably explanation enough, but I know some of you are also authors or are curious about the creative process, so I've decided to explain the cause for delay in more detail in the hopes that it might help you out in your own creative journey. I’ve had so many conversations lately with part time writers who feel overwhelmed with their fledgling careers and with full time writers who feel the urge to push beyond their limits in an attempt to measure up to their peers. Maybe some honest conversations and transparency will help everyone breathe a little easier.

Writing is fun and wonderful. Writing is something I love with all my heart.

Writing is also really hard at times, and to pretend otherwise does a huge disservice to everyone involved in this creative pursuit. Nothing is fun all the time, even if you love it.

So first, let’s talk about COVID-19. Like many of you, my experiences in this pandemic have been a roller coaster of ups, downs, and everything in between. The world shut down just as I was scheduled to go on a month long international adventure. I was travelling to Japan with a group of friends for a much needed vacation. I was going to Tennessee to see the premiere of a play I co-wrote with a friend. I was presenting at the Music Teachers National Conference in Chicago. All huge honors. All events that involved months of planning.
All of them were canceled.

Once I stopped reeling from those cancellations (and the closure of the music school where I teach), I decided to throw myself into writing. It seemed like a logical thing to do. I was stuck at home. I love to write. I finally had all the time in the world to do it.
But I seriously underestimated the stress all the changes in my life had caused. We’ve all seen the posts saying “Be kind to yourself” or “You don’t have to be productive right now,” but I genuinely love my work and wanted to do it. But even with that enthusiasm, I hit a wall a few months into this new schedule and burned out hard. Part physical exhaustion, part mental exhaustion, burnout is one of those things you have to live through to fully understand. I found myself unable to write anything for a month while I struggled to rebuild my energy and recover, which definitely slowed down my writing.

But at that point, to be honest, I wasn’t thinking much about writing. I just wanted my brain back. I’m pleased to report that I’m doing so much better now. I took the time off that I needed, focused on my physical health, did as many recharging things I could think to do, and started seeing a counselor to learn healthier ways to cope with stress. Out of all of these things, seeing a counselor made the biggest difference, which is why I’m sharing this now. I didn’t want to see a counselor. I didn’t want to admit that I needed help and couldn’t do it on my own.

But sometimes you need help and can’t do it on your own. There’s a unique kind of strength in admitting that. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but the system of support that sprang up around me once I finally asked for help has been absolutely astounding. I’m doing really well now, but the process of going through burnout (twice) since March has slowed down everything.

The other reasons Princess of Roses is delayed are more craft related. To make a long story short… this book is very long! I expected it to be about the same length as Princess of Mermaids, but I reached that length and found the end was nowhere in sight. I’m still drafting the final chapters and adding polish, so I’m not sure what the final word count will be. But it will certainly be more than expected!

Rosemary and Darian had a lot to get through before they reached their happy ending, and I refuse to rush them. I had no intention of writing such a long book, but Beauty and the Beast is a more involved story than the others I’ve adapted. There are more plot points. More characters in the original. I failed to account for the fact that retelling a longer fairy tale would result in a longer book. It’s a mistake I (hopefully) won’t make again. Still, the more complex source material has given me a lot to play with, and I am so excited to release it into the world!
​
I also tried a few experiments with this book as I tried to refine my writing process. (Ironically, this was meant to make the writing go faster.) I love the idea of outlines for writing, but I rarely (never) stick to them. So for Princess of Roses, I decided to scrap the outline and do more upfront world building instead. I got to know the characters before I started writing. I made charts showing where and why everyone would have conflict. I researched medieval towns to collect details for the settings. I made a calendar to line up the events of Princess of Roses with the past three books in the series. I had a lot of fun doing this. It let me write quickly with a lot more details, which once again added to the length of the book.

Also, this book is rather more complicated than the previous books in the series. The main villains are starting to show their hands. Characters from three books are popping in and causing chaos (I’m looking at you, Stefan and Carina). Some seeds that I planted in book one are finally starting to peep out of the ground. Or to break through in a burst of magic, depending on the seed. The series is developing in an exciting way, but all those plot points took time to sort out. While I’d like to say I’ve learned my lesson and will never write a complicated book again, the real lesson learned is that I love writing complicated books. I just need to accept they take more time to write and give myself the time needed to write them well.

I’m also delaying the release as a courtesy to my team. My previous books have all been solo efforts. I did almost everything myself, only gathering feedback from betas and having keen eyed readers hunt for typos before publication. This time around, I’ve gathered a marvelous team of editors, consistency checkers, and proofreaders to help me polish the manuscript until it sparkles. Sometimes you need help and can’t do it on your own. I am beyond excited to work with these talented people, and it would be completely unfair to ask them to rush their part of the process when I’m the reason the book is behind schedule.
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I think that covers just about everything, and I hope this post was helpful. I debated if I should write it or not for a long time. I don’t want to be negative about a career and book that I love. I don’t want to scare anyone away from writing or working hard or trying new things. But I also don’t want someone else to stumble into the mess I found myself in when I had the ability to warn them. I hate seeing my fellow authors burned out and stressed. This is a weird, unique, hopefully not repeated in our lifetime pandemic, but COVID also can’t be blamed for all of these situations. My hope is that we can all learn from this, learn from each other, and come out of this season stronger than ever. We have books to write and books to read, and I’m looking forward to all of it.

Happy Reading,
A.G. Marshall

I've mentioned before that my chats with Erika Everest in the Fairytale Courtyard group on Facebook provide a lot of inspiration for my short stories. Now I'm pleased to announce that you can watch our discussions without being on Facebook or joining the group! Our discussion of Charles Perrault's version of Sleeping Beauty is now available on YouTube. Check it out to see how it provided the ideas that became The Woman with the Spindle.

I first met Lisa through her blog, but she's a fiction author as well! I recently interviewed her about her books, her blog, and all her favorite things. She's always in the know and has a very cool take on all things princess. Here's our conversation.
You’re always in the know on all things princess. What inspired your interest in princesses?
​ ​You might as well ask why I was born with red hair! I’ve loved princess stories my entire life, and there was never a time that I didn’t. I relate to them more than any other character archetype. Princesses grow up in loving families who, despite often the best of intentions, want to make all their decisions for them. This motivates them to stand up for their independence and follow their dreams. That was how it felt for me when I was growing up. I also relate to wanting to wear pretty dresses and use magic more than I do to the modern “tough girl” archetype, which, while empowering, appeals to a different type of audience. The princess is also usually the most important and interesting female character in any given story in the fantasy genre.
Why do you think fairy tales are so universally popular?
Fairy tales are some of the oldest stories in the world that were passed down verbally for many years before they got recorded in writing by the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, Charles Perrault, and others. They never become irrelevant because they are always being reinvented the modern era. Though the most famous person to do this was Walt Disney, the original stories are still in the public domain, which means people can continue reinventing them for each new generation. So basically, fairy tales will continue to exist for as long as humans continue to be entertained by stories. That means they have endless possibilities.
Tell me about your own writing and retellings. What inspired them? How did you use elements from the original stories in your work
Of my six original novellas, two are based on fairy tales. There are so many great fairy tale retellings out there that I only write my own if I have something new to offer. In the case of Of Land and Sea: The Untold Story of The Little Mermaid, I wanted to explore the life of the princess who the prince marries in the Hans Christian Andersen version of “The Little Mermaid.” Most adaptations turn her into a wicked seductress, but I never thought that was fair considering that she probably had no idea she was ruining someone else’s life when she married him. That’s why I decided to write my own version from the perspective of this “villain” to show that a person’s reputation does not always reflect their intentions. I was also partially inspired by the novel and musical versions of Wicked, which convey these themes for the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz.
​My other fairy tale retelling is Blood Red, a version of “Little Red Riding Hood” set in modern-day Hollywood, which just happens to be where I currently live. I decided to write this after I saw several adaptations of the story that turned Red Riding Hood into a werewolf, namely the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie and ABC’s Once Upon a Time drama series. It irked me that no one seemed to be capable of expanding upon this narrative without being able to separate Red from the wolf character. After all, the fairy tale is supposed to teach children not to speak to strangers because they can’t always be trusted, not whether or not Red was able to trust herself. That’s why I did my own version in which Red is a famous actress who got unintentionally involved with a gang member and needs to solve the mystery of her past before it’s too late. That simultaneously brings the story back to its roots while giving it a fresh modern feel that doesn’t involve werewolves, unlike every other adaptation I’ve seen.
The rest of my books are original fiction inspired by fairy tales. As a writer, I think it’s important to be able share my own stories with the world. Fairy tales help me navigate my own life from a brighter and more meaningful perspective that makes the hard times feel just a little bit easier by incorporating elements magic and heroism. Rebirth: A Faery’s Tale and The Stolen Jewel were inspired by two of the most trying times in my life. Rebirth converts the experience of a difficult relationship into a story about a fire faery who falls in love with a blacksmith, but her touch burns him. The Stolen Jewel converts the experience of losing a coveted career opportunity into a story about a princess who gets ousted from her kingdom. With these stories I was able to create something beautiful out of my personal demons and mistakes. As a result, I regret these experiences just less and can look back at them as magical stories instead of tough times. It is my hope that my stories can help people who had similar experiences do the same.
I know you’ve done screenwriting workshops as well. Are you working on any screenplays at the moment?
I think I’m an unusual type of writer in that I can’t stick to a specific format. I’ve done poetry, screenwriting, prose, and blogging, and I love all of them equally! The Stolen Jewel started out as a screenplay for the UCLA Professional Program for Screenwriting, but I felt so attached to the narrative that I wanted to share it with the world. Since the chances of having a producer call me and ask to turn it into a feature film are extremely slim, I ended up converting it into a novella and selling it online so I could share it with a wider audience. Right now, I’m working with my classmates on a spin-off/sequel screenplay to The Stolen Jewel called The Stolen Queen about Lily, the best friend of the protagonist. A lot of my readers told me she was their favorite character, so I thought it would be fun to give her a story of her own. Of course, that also means that I will probably have to convert it into a novel once I finish the screenplay, so it looks like I have my work cut out for me! I went through the exact opposite process with Rebirth: A Faery’s Tale. Once I finished the novella version of that, I rewrote it into a screenplay and am currently working on my third draft.
I love seeing pictures of your princess collection on Facebook. What are some of your favorite pieces at the moment?
I love the Disney Designer Collection dolls that they release every one to two years. I don’t own many because they’re so expensive, but I just had to buy the Ariel and Eric set from their 2013 collection! It’s so rare to see a set with both a princess and her prince together. I loved how they redesigned all their costumes in that collection to look like something you would see at a Renaissance Faire. In fact, I made my own version of Ariel’s designer “Kiss the Girl” dress and wore it to a Renaissance Faire with my husband a few years later. I also loved the Limited Edition 30th Anniversary Ariel doll that they released at the Disney Store last year. I think they excluded Ariel from last year’s Midnight Masquerade Collection because of the 30th Anniversary doll, but I bought a lot of the artwork from that collection at the D23 Expo as well as a jewelry box containing the images from it on the Disney Store’s website. Most of the Disney Designer art is done by Steve Thompson, who I follow on Instagram and Facebook.
Do you have any new books or projects coming out soon?
​I’m still in the early stages of my screenplay version of The Stolen Queen, my sequel to The Stolen Jewel. I’ll get started on the book once I’m happy with the script, but it probably won’t be for a while! In the meantime, I will continue to write weekly posts on The Princess Blog (www.theprincessblog.org). I have a mailing list for my books at https://lisadawnbooks.wixsite.com/lisadawn to keep my readers up to date and have an Amazon author page at https://www.amazon.com/author/LisaDawn for the books I’ve already released.
What princess (or fairytale) thing are you most excited for in 2020?
​Right now, I’m looking forward to the series finale of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure (formerly Tangled: The Series). There’s less than a month before the finale movie, Plus Est en Vous, which airs on March 1st. The story so far has kept me on the edge of my seat, and I can’t wait to see how it’s going to end!

The Princess and the Lamp was inspired by a road trip to Canada...  A few summers ago, my family took a road trip from Oklahoma to Ontario for a cousin's wedding. My sister downloaded an audiobook of the Arabian Nights for the twenty hour drive, and we had a lot of fun listening to it. The translation was in a very formal, old-fashioned prose style read by an equally formal narrator. Characters dealt each other “mighty blows” and said things like “from the time she woke up to the time she laid her head on her pillow, she has not uttered a single word” in answer to the question, “has she spoken today?”

Our favorite was Aladdin. If you haven’t read the original version of this story, it is well worth it. You can find it for free here.  

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/57/57-h/57-h.htm

There are lots of things that stand out about this story. Especially if you’re used to the Disney version. There are multiple genies, and they are quite terrifying. The sultan’s default reaction to not getting his way is to threaten to cut off people’s heads. But the one element that stuck in my head the most was the fact that the princess had married the vizier’s son before she met Aladdin. Aladdin is not the charming street rat in this version that he is in both Disney retellings. In fact, I find him quite manipulative and a little stupid. He is so obsessed with the princess, whom he has only seen once in the street, that he uses the genie to break up her marriage then wins both her and her father over by building a magnificent palace with magic. The princess seems quite content with this turn of events. She immediately falls in love with Aladdin and forgets her first husband.

This seemed so unrealistic that it stayed lodged in the back of my mind for two years. I couldn’t shake my curiosity about Badroulbadour’s reactions. How did she actually feel about her first husband? Was it an arranged marriage that she was glad to be rid of? Or did she actually love the vizier’s son? What happened to him after the marriage was dissolved?

When I decided to retell Aladdin for the Once Upon a Short Story collection, I knew it was finally time to answer those questions. I transformed the princess from a passive prize to a strong-willed woman who knows what she wants and goes after it without holding back. That seemed a more realistic personality for an only child born to extreme wealth and used to getting her own way. She didn’t seem the sort of woman to marry a man she didn’t love, so how did she come to be engaged to the vizier’s son?

And if she actually loved him, how would she react towards the man responsible for breaking up her marriage?

And what would she do when she discovered magic?

Answering those initial questions set this story in motion, and Badroulbadour took it the rest of the way.

The Princess and the Lamp is now available on Amazon.

Princess of Mermaids launches November 5, but you can read the first chapter now!

And don't forget to check out the full book on Amazon. ​“Don’t dawdle, Fiora.”
The King of Kell pushed past his daughter and strode up the gangplank to his ship. Fiora glared at him. She hated the way his bright red beard flowed in the wind. It matched her own red hair perfectly, and that had ruined everything.
In spite of her father’s warning, she stopped walking and turned for one last look at Aeonia. The royal castle glistened in the sunlight, showing no trace of the conflict that had just passed. No trace of goblins and shadows and rumors of war.
Fiora gritted her teeth. Blast them all, she had been so close! If they had followed the rules instead of letting an impostor waltz in and take the throne, she would be engaged to Prince Alaric right now.
She would be free.
“Get on the ship, Fiora! I won’t ask again.”
Something warm rolled down Fiora’s cheek, and she hastily brushed it away. She wasn’t the sort to cry. Blasted tear. Even her own eyes were turning against her.
She glanced around the dock to make sure no one had seen the treacherous tear and scowled when she realized someone had.
King Gustave of Montaigne watched her with concern in his gray eyes. Fiora glared to warn him away, but he approached her with a cautious smile.
“Are you well, Princess?”
“Fine. Wonderful.”
Her accent was always stronger when she was upset, and it was positively lilting now. The strain of keeping her magic contained made the words shrill even to her own ears.
Fiora turned to walk away and tripped on a loose board. She stumbled, and King Gustave caught her arm with a steady hand. She looked up at him as he helped her regain her balance.
“Princess Fiora, I would be honored to assist you however I can.”
His gentle eyes showed none of the contempt the other royals gave her. It was probably his youth. He was about her own age, although his neatly trimmed beard made it difficult to tell. Fiora suspected he had grown it for that very reason. He was young to be king, and the beard made him look more distinguished.
She met his compassionate gaze, and another tear rolled down her cheek. She jerked her arm away from him.
“I said I’m fine.”
She couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Fiora walked up the gangplank without looking back and went straight to her father’s cabin. There was no point delaying the inevitable. He’d summon her there soon enough.
She paused outside the door to remove her shoe and pull a pearl ring off her toe. She could wear it normally again now that she didn’t have to match all the other girls in the Princess Test. Fiora quickly shoved the ring onto her finger. She wiggled her toes, stretching them out and enjoying the freedom before she put her shoe back on. At least it fit properly now that she wasn’t squeezing her pearl ring into it. At least she wouldn’t have to fight every moment to keep from wincing or scowling from the pain.
Fiora had delayed long enough. She pushed open the door and entered her father’s study. King Fergal sat at his desk writing a letter. He didn’t look up, so Fiora sank into a chair in the corner. She studied her ring while she waited. The pearl had lost some of its luster. Most of it, in fact. The luminous surface had gone dull.
This was bad.
The ship cast off, and the hateful land of Aeonia faded into the horizon. Fiora watched through a porthole, glad to be rid of the place that had so thoroughly rejected her.
When the mountains were nothing more than a thin line on the edge of the ocean, her father crumpled his letter around a rock, tied a piece of twine around it, and threw it out the porthole. Then he turned to her.
“That was badly done, Fiora. You mangled things from start to finish.”
“I would have won if they followed the rules of the Princess Test. I won the contests. Prince Alaric should have chosen me.”
“A lot of good that does us now.”
Her father’s voice was calm, and that worried Fiora more than anything else that had happened so far. He should be yelling. He should be furious.
“There will be other Princess Tests, Father. I’ve mastered all the traditional skills. I’ll win next time.”
“We had a deal, Fiora. There won’t be a next time.”
Fiora fought the urge to shrink back and kept her head high.
“I was closer this time than ever. Give me one more chance.”
“No more chances, Fiora. You agreed to the deal, and you’ll keep your end of the bargain.”
Blast. She had only made that bargain because she was certain she could win Prince Alaric’s hand. Because she had devoted her every waking moment to practicing skills for the competition and was confident she would be the best.
“Look on the bright side. At least you won’t have to embroider any more cushions.”
“I like embroidery.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
His tone said she was being unreasonable. Fiora bristled.
“I was the best, wasn’t I? It’s not fair! I won!”
“Fiora, it’s time to face the fact that no one wants you. You’ve lost several Princess Tests in spite of your superior skills. Elspeth is of age now. Perhaps she’ll have better luck wooing a king. Kell needs an ally, and our options are limited.”
“How limited? Father what do you have planned?”
Instead of answering, King Fergal stood and gestured for Fiora to follow. She sulked a few steps behind him, delaying as much as she dared. Small acts of disobedience were all you could get away with around her father. She’d learned that the hard way.
The King of Kell stood on the deck of the ship, looking out at the open sea. In spite of herself, Fiora smiled a little as the sea breeze sweep over her face. She always felt free when sailing.
“An arranged match it is then,” she said. “I agreed to let you choose for me if I couldn’t secure a husband on my own, and I’ll honor my word.”
Her father glanced at her, and something gleamed in his eyes. Was that compassion? Fiora’s heart beat faster. This was worse than she expected.
“Is he noble?” she asked. “You could at least tell me a little about him.”
He stayed silent. The King of Kell never stayed silent. Fiora fought back the panic building in her chest and tried to sound calm.
“Is he old, then? I expect he’s ancient, rich, and common. A wealthy ally would do as much good as a noble one.”
Her father still wouldn’t meet her gaze. Fiora swallowed and stared at the waves.
“What’s wrong with him, Father? What’s so wrong with him that he is willing to accept me?”
“I haven’t chosen someone for you to marry, Fiora. No one would have you. I said I would choose your next placement, not your next husband, and I’ve done that.”
Something broke the surface of the water. Something sharp and black. King Fergal hummed a soft tune, and Fiora gasped.
“Father, no.”
“Elspeth doesn’t stand a chance with you around reminding everyone how very undesirable the royal family of Kell is considered. It’s time for you to go home and get out of her way.”
Fiora glanced down at her ring. The pearl was a blank white orb. All the luster had gone. Her breath caught in her throat as a sharp pain pierced her feet and traveled up her legs.
“Father, please don’t send me away. I’ll work harder. I’ll do anything.”
The King of Kell watched the boiling water with a stern expression. The hint of compassion in his eyes had disappeared.
“How could you? I’m your daughter as much as Elspeth is!”
A song echoed through the wind, and more fins pierced the waves. Fiora shoved her father aside and sprinted across the ship.
She wasn’t fast enough. An enormous tentacle shot out from the water and wrapped around her waist.
Fiora screamed as it lifted her off the ship and pulled her beneath the waves.

I love to sew, and fashion creeps into my books pretty often. Clothing design is a major part of the Salarian Chronicles (and the Fairy Tale Adventures as well). In Rook and Shadow, fashion plays a major part in the story line as Princess Salara deals with the way people view her fairy-enchanted beauty. In Lady Alma, Alma's love of fashion and desire to design clothing drives most of the story. As my cousin Matt commented, "They talk about their clothes a lot." (To be fair, he works as a lumberjack in the Canadian wilderness. It is to be expected that he has different taste in books than I do!)

I don't actually dress up that much in my day-to-day life. My preferred clothes are pajamas most of the time. But I do love to dress up for special occasions, and I also love to design formal wear.
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I used to work as a theater costumer, and I loved using clothes to express character. My goal as a costumer was to have the audience understand each character before they spoke a word. It is a visual communication that works well in that medium. My most challenging show to costume was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. Every female cast member needed a formal gown! A Few Pictures from My Costumer Days My costuming partner now runs Whitney Sews, a YouTube channel with sewing tutorials and more. Check out her channel if you like to craft!

I don't sew as much anymore, but I recently got a chance to design a project for my sister. She was invited to a formal wedding rather last minute and asked for help with her dress. She found a gorgeous dress at a thrift store, but it was too short to be appropriate for the wedding. So she bought a skirt made of complementary fabric and asked me to combine the two.
This was a fun challenge. We looked at pictures of various mermaid skirts to decide how long to make the new section and what shape to make it. I also was finally able to make use of my new mannequin, Hazel, who was a birthday gift from my sister.
Here are some pictures of the process and the finished product. In addition to adding the skirt, I also created a petticoat to give the bottom half some volume. This was a very quick project! Start to finish, it took a few hours. (This was also reminiscent of my costuming days, when everything was done on a tight deadline. I also had to be ready to repair damage and prep gowns for understudies on a moment’s notice.)

Overall, I'm very pleased with the results. I plan to use Hazel to tailor some of my own clothes and maybe even make a formal gown for myself sometime in the near future. I just need an event to go to first.
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If you want to see how sewing sneaks into my novels, check out Rook and Shadow and Lady Alma. Princess Carina also uses fashion to her advantage in The Frog Prince.

Happy Reading!
A.G. Marshall