Another thing struck me on re-reading The Changeling Tree was that I'd held back from giving a definitive position on what Carrick and Black Annis were. In my mind they were always faerie, but I was taken with the idea that if there were such beings, they would have been understood differently in different time periods. Stories of abduction by mysterious non-human creatures tend to be about aliens nowadays, for example. I wanted to leave it open for readers to make up their own minds.

The problem with that was that it was confusing. From more of a distance, I could see that while it's ok to have some degree of ambiguity to allow readers space for their own interpretation of characters and plot, if there's too much uncertainty, the reader ends up with nothing to hold on to.

Another thing that had also been clear to me all along was that the faerie weren't going to be sweet in any way. Black Annis was always evil and Carrick was always charmingly manipulative and casually sadistic, but there wasn't really a backstory to explain what their motivations were for interfering in the human world. Once I'd decided to come clean about what they were, the backstory fell into place naturally. It had to be a game to them, and for a game to hold their attention across the entire narrative, the stakes would have to be high.

When I first wrote The Changeling Tree, I thought it was going to be a stand-alone story. There was no Carrick at all, only Black Annis. When I decided to write more, I retro-fitted Carrick into The Changeling Tree as the priest, but there was no further mention of Annis after the first book. Having an ongoing competition between Annis and Carrick made it possible to flesh out Annis's character and have her continue into the other books in the series.

While the Queen and Carrick are similar characters, in that they are both interested in their own ends above all else, Carrick has more insight into what motivates people and the other Faerie because of his understanding of cause and effect. Because of her position, the Queen shares her pleasures but has to rely on what her advisors tell her to understand what the court is feeling. Carrick isn't so scrupulous about who shares what with whom, and his violation of the rule that emotions should only be shared with his inferiors (let's call it the trickle-down pleasure principle) gives him another edge over the Queen. Unfortunately, it also distracts him from the challenge he's supposed to be engaged in and, ultimately, complicates his motivations.

While I was writing about the Faerie court, the country was flailing and limping towards Brexit and the machine of US government was busily trying to minimize the harm its president could do.* This has been a useful object lesson in what happens when people who have lost faith choose a leader. Given that we can't believe anything politicians tell us about what they have done or what they will aim to do, we might as well elect leaders who will entertain us with their lies. Having tried the audacity of hope, we now just hope for audacity. Similarly, the Faerie court look to their Queen only for entertainment. Everybody is dishonest and self-seeking and everybody knows it but pretends anyway, if it's in their interests to do so.

* Please note that the Faerie characters aren't based on specific individuals. I can't be held responsible for politicians who share their characteristics.

Incidentally, there really are stories about Black Annis in that part of Leicester. I first heard about her from a neighbour when we moved into the area and I based my Black Annis on the story I heard rather than trying to incorporate everything that's ever been written or said about her.

And why the spelling? I chose to use faerie to signal that they fit more closely with medieval ideas: they use whatever means they can to trick humans into going with them to an otherworld where time passes differently. They steal children and cause a range of misfortunes out of spite or whim. It's a pretty common convention in writing about medieval literature and folk literature to use that spelling to signal that these beings are entirely different from the vapid little creatures with sparkling wings and generally good intentions which pass for fairies nowadays. I've used the modern spelling to refer to those. I chose the illustration for this post because Cecily Mary Barker's Flower Fairies offer a cross-over between the two: some of her fairies are beautiful and kind, but some are mischievous or downright sinister. We all get the fairies we deserve.