What goes on inside the head of a pre-published author who specializes in Steampunk, Fantasy and Romance, who has homeschooled her three daughters and who believes in the magic inherent in every living thing? Read on to find out.

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Rough Draft of the Beginning

This is my work-in-progress. I've been writing in chunks, switching between the gypsies and the townsfolk, and the other characters. I've decided to begin the book with the Gypsies.

Chapter 1 - Gypsy Pirates
The piecemeal airship came to its usual gentle landing in a meadow between two streams. The grounding crew hopped out and began driving stakes in the ground and tying off ropes to secure the airship. As it was barely dawn, the gypsies had no gawkers. The townspeople would awake, as most towns did, to find this huge airship and a camp full of gypsies just outside their town.

Ezri hauled her tent out with the rest. She smiled at the sun rising over the town - it promised to be a beautiful day. She found a spot near the eastern stream to pitch her tent. This was one of her favorite parts of the journey - creating a new home, even if temporarily. When they camped, she had a measure of privacy, solitude. Being canned into that airship was not her idea of the good life. Here, in the open, with the sounds of nature soothing her to sleep, this was her good life. She erected her tent with the ease of a person who had done it dozens of times, then went back to the airship to get her few belongings. By midmorning, she and the rest of her extended family would have camp established with the appearance of having lived there for years.

When Ezri finished setting up her tent she walked around to see if anyone needed help. Her brother's five children ran out to greet her.

"Aunt Ezri, sing for us," they said. The two younger boys carried their dried gourd maracas, the middle girl held out her tambourine, and the two older boys had their guitars.

"What song will we sing to greet such a magical morning?" Ezri asked.

Her six-year-old niece, Fayette, spoke up, "Morning Mist".

Ezri counted them off and the boys began strumming and shaking. She liked the song much better in the old language, so she let out a trill before letting the words roll out of her mouth. Soon, more children joined the group, some with instruments, some without, and all began dancing in a round. Faster and faster the older boys played as the old, magical words spilled from her lips. For this was not simply a song, but an old spell, used to draw the townsfolk out and make them at least curious about the gypsies. On good days, it made them want to spend their pocket money in the gypsy camp instead of on drinks or the saloon girls.

Ezri led the children in concentric circles of dance. The group whirled faster and faster until they were all running around in three circles, one inside another. When the song ended they all collapsed on the ground, laughing.

"Thank you, little ones. That will surely make our stay joyous," Ezri said. Then all the children scattered, all except little Fayette. She climbed into Ezri's lap. Ezri stroked her long, dark hair and looked into bright blue eyes, much like her own.

"Aunt Ezri, do you miss your babies?"

Ezri continued stroking the girl's hair. She had actually gone for the length of the song without thinking about the four babies she miscarried when she was married.

"I miss them very much. But they are always in my heart. They have joined the Great Mother and are singing songs and playing everyday, like you do here. I know I will see them again one day," Ezri said.

"I wish they were here playing with me. I'd like little girls to play with instead of all the boys - they won't play dolls with me."

Ezri smiled to force away the tears that threatened. She had carried each of her children exactly four months. Each of them had been stillborn in the middle of the night. Each of them had been a girl. They would have looked very much like Fayette.

"Well, perhaps you will find a little girl in this town who will play with you," Ezri said.

Fayette smiled and hugged her aunt before jumping up and joining the other children, most of whom were boys. There had been very few girls born in this generation. When they grew up, they would have to find foreign men to bring into the mix. Ezri's grandmother was trying to get Ezri to find another foreign man to bring into the mix. Not all men were like her ex-husband Dorian Lane, her grandmother kept telling her. Not all men would leave a wife because she could not have children. The good man loves a wife for all of her, not just for what she can give her husband. That might be true for most of the men in camp, but foreigners never held a candle to her men. Of course, most of the eligible men in camp were too closely related to her to be husband material. The remaining ones were either too old or too young.

Ezri sighed, then stood up. It was time to venture into town and see what she could do to draw out customers. Everyone else was still setting up, but since Ezri's business was dancing and reading aura's, she didn't have any inventory to display. As she crossed the small wooden bridge into town, she wondered if this might be a place where they could stay for awhile. It was far enough away from the big city of Waldron to be safe from vandals and close enough to a small town to draw in customers, and with all the problems factories were having with their machines breaking, perhaps the people in this small factory town needed a break from the everyday. Ezri adjusted her turquoise and silver handkerchief skirts and the coin scarf around her waist, pulled her violet shawl around her shoulders, and ventured into town.

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