Larisa Walk's Blog
May 6, 2013
The book after A Witch Without Magic
Working on book 2 in the Hedge Witch series, the first being A Witch Without Magic. Right now writing a BDSM scene where a wicked incubus is whipping a nude witch whose soul he desperately wants. Once she has an orgasm for him, she is his. Poor thing...
March 19, 2013
Villains' wicked deeds
Authors' confessions: the worst thing their villains have done - 6 writers tell it like it is. http://www.larisawalk.com/blog/
June 2, 2012
The Magic in the New Year's Tree
Officially speaking, Christmas was not celebrated in the Soviet Union. It didn't disappear altogether, just became converted into the New Year's celebration. The decorated tree, the presents, and the holiday table, set with the rather utilitarian dishes of Soviet cuisine, became the new tradition while Christmas went underground. Still, the holiday retained some of its magic, although in the tiny apartment where I grew up in the midst of the Siberian tundra the magic was mostly of the tacky kind.
Because our artificial New Year's tree looked more like a used bottle brush, we over-decorated it to cover up the scruffy branches. We hung shiny glass ornaments and tinsel; tossed little white puffs of cotton that pretended to be snow on the branches; and strung colored lights that reflected in the tinsel and the ornaments. We also hung tinsel from the ceiling. It made the living room, which doubled as my parents' bedroom, look like a place where silver rain fell continuously, never touching the scuffed floor.
If you switched off the ceiling light and left only the tree lights on, and if you squinted, the living room-bedroom with its pink wallpaper, worn red carpet, and a gurgling radiator under the iced window, disappeared. What you saw were twinkling fairy lights, which did make the place appear magical.
After the traditional meal of potato salad, fried chicken, pickles, and beet salad that didn't taste all that different from the potato salad, my parents would go out to celebrate with their friends. Alone in the apartment, I would sit quietly with the ceiling light off. The room would be illuminated only by the New Year's tree lights and the glow that seeped through the window ice.
I would squint and stare at the decorated tree and wait for something magical to happen. Perhaps a beautiful spirit would step out of the glow and take me with it, away from the dilapidated apartment where the radiators gurgled and the air faintly smelled like potato salad. I would wind up someplace with trees and flowers, someplace where true magic lived.
Of course it never happened and I never told anyone about my New Year's Eve vigils, because both my parents and my classmates would've made fun of me. Fantasies and deep feelings were acceptable in fairytales but not in real life in the Soviet Union. You could hardly even find any fantasy books in book stores, though science fiction was more common. Perhaps Soviet citizens were supposed to live firmly in the socialist present and dream of the future when communist paradise would become reality.
I didn't know it then, but my love for writing fantasy was born during my New Year's Eve vigils. I think Yaroslava, the heroine of my novel, A HANDFUL OF EARTH, had her beginnings there, too, because she knows about forbidden magic and loneliness and how to hide her feelings from people that wouldn't understand.
Because our artificial New Year's tree looked more like a used bottle brush, we over-decorated it to cover up the scruffy branches. We hung shiny glass ornaments and tinsel; tossed little white puffs of cotton that pretended to be snow on the branches; and strung colored lights that reflected in the tinsel and the ornaments. We also hung tinsel from the ceiling. It made the living room, which doubled as my parents' bedroom, look like a place where silver rain fell continuously, never touching the scuffed floor.
If you switched off the ceiling light and left only the tree lights on, and if you squinted, the living room-bedroom with its pink wallpaper, worn red carpet, and a gurgling radiator under the iced window, disappeared. What you saw were twinkling fairy lights, which did make the place appear magical.
After the traditional meal of potato salad, fried chicken, pickles, and beet salad that didn't taste all that different from the potato salad, my parents would go out to celebrate with their friends. Alone in the apartment, I would sit quietly with the ceiling light off. The room would be illuminated only by the New Year's tree lights and the glow that seeped through the window ice.
I would squint and stare at the decorated tree and wait for something magical to happen. Perhaps a beautiful spirit would step out of the glow and take me with it, away from the dilapidated apartment where the radiators gurgled and the air faintly smelled like potato salad. I would wind up someplace with trees and flowers, someplace where true magic lived.
Of course it never happened and I never told anyone about my New Year's Eve vigils, because both my parents and my classmates would've made fun of me. Fantasies and deep feelings were acceptable in fairytales but not in real life in the Soviet Union. You could hardly even find any fantasy books in book stores, though science fiction was more common. Perhaps Soviet citizens were supposed to live firmly in the socialist present and dream of the future when communist paradise would become reality.
I didn't know it then, but my love for writing fantasy was born during my New Year's Eve vigils. I think Yaroslava, the heroine of my novel, A HANDFUL OF EARTH, had her beginnings there, too, because she knows about forbidden magic and loneliness and how to hide her feelings from people that wouldn't understand.
February 27, 2012
Larisa Walk's Blog February 26, 2012 13the century life in Russia & Mongolia
In the 13th c. Russia most of the nobles followed Christianity. The peasants, however, although officially converted to Christianity, practiced paganism. They followed pagan beliefs to varying degrees well into our time. For example, today many in Russia believe that each house has its own protective house spirit, the domovoi.
February 26, 2012
13the century life in Russia & Mongolia
Because glass was rare and expensive, other materials were used to cover windows in houses and to let in some light. Peasants used fish bladders which they stretched over windows. Whereas lesser nobility used the mineral called mica. Only the richest of the rich used glass.
February 25, 2012
Updates to my latest novel
After being told by 3 reviewers that my "A handful of earth" novel has a rushed ending, I changed the ending. Good thing it's an e-book, so the change didn't take as much work as it would've with a printed version.
I believe I made the novel much stronger with the changes I made.
Interesting tidbit about the period of the novel: During the Mongol Horde's conquest of Russia (13th century), Russia was nothing more than a collection of smaller principalities that were divided from each other by frequent warfare. This is one of the biggest reasons why the Mongols conquered Russia so easily and why they held power over it for 200 years thereafter.
I believe I made the novel much stronger with the changes I made.
Interesting tidbit about the period of the novel: During the Mongol Horde's conquest of Russia (13th century), Russia was nothing more than a collection of smaller principalities that were divided from each other by frequent warfare. This is one of the biggest reasons why the Mongols conquered Russia so easily and why they held power over it for 200 years thereafter.
