Meditations on The Shadows of Dark Root

I may have gotten a bit metaphysical during the creation of The Shadows of Dark Root. I always knew I wanted Maggie and her companions to journey to the Netherworld, only I wasn't sure exactly how that journey would go. I suppose I saw more camping in my head (ha-ha). What I did know was that it had to be Maggie's journey, the climax to not only the storyline but to Maggie's personal growth as well. I knew she couldn't argue her way through things or throw temper tantrums or start fires (although that all did come in handy). But she needed to learn to use her magick in new ways. She needed to come into her full power and strength in this book, and what better way than a journey to hell and back?

Astute readers will notice the chapter headings on this book are not song titles, as has been the tradition. Because this was a different kind of book than the others, set in a different world, I wanted the titles to reflect that. So I chose to use the Major Arcana from the Tarot in order, to mark Maggie's journey from Fool to The World. That doesn't mean Maggie knows everything after, only that one journey has ended and another began.


One thing that caught me by surprise when writing The Shadows of Dark Root was how in love I fell with the Goddesses I was writing. Its so much fun to take their personalities, and make them your own. I especially enjoyed writing Lilith! She oozed sex appeal, playfulness, and an almost childlike innocence. But she is not a woman you want to cross! And I haven't ruled out her making a future appearance in Dark Root. Another character I had loads of fun with was Hecate. I did a lot of studying on her, and found multiple myths and points of view and I fused what I could and created a fun version, I think, both wise and mischievous. These ladies sure gave Armand a run for his money!

This book was so different from the others I knew that I was taking a risk in presenting it. And I know there are readers out there who wished I had stayed in the town of Dark Root. But there is no growth without new challenges, and I took on this quest not only for Maggie but for myself. I had never written high fantasy before, but I have enjoyed it and I love nothing more than reading and studying myth and the occult and ancient religions so it came out much more naturally than I anticipated. Maggie and her companions forged ahead, and came out purified on the other side.

As for the Michael incident, I'm sorry. I know. The emails I get usually say something like "I hated Michael in the beginning but then I started to like him and then you did that!!!"

Trust me, it was hard for me too! I loved Michael as much as I initially hated him. But I had always intended for him to be saved, not by God, as he initially thought, but by his own deeds. The fact that some of you cared that much for this person at the end of this series makes me excited as a writer. And for those of you who still didn't like him, I know its good riddance, haha.

I'll be posting more on my thoughts on some of the books I wrote. I intend to post more on The Shadows of Dark Root as well, as there was a lot of brainpower than went into this, and even more intuition and strange synchronicities.

Happy reading everyone!
April Aasheim

New Year - New Blog (Kind Of)

My last post was almost three years ago. I've been writing so much fiction I've kind of neglected my blog, but I'm ready to jump back in.

I'll start with a quick update: I have completed the entire Daughters of Dark Root series last year, and I admit, I'm in love. The series isn't perfect. There are things I would change. But it is good. Really good. Like 'How did I write something this good, good?" I know not everyone will agree. We all have our own tastes and preferences, but I love it. I'm very proud of it. These books took a big chunk of my life and soul and I'm so happy to have produced something so lovely that I can send out into the world.

I decided to end the series at five books. When you read book 5 you'll see it was a natural ending. Maggie's story isn't quite done, however, and her family has yet to tell their tales. So, I began the spin-off series:  The Children of Dark Root. Its four years after the last book, and the next generation of witchy kids has arrived. Maggie may have her hands full! It's a good thing she's a master of magick, now! The first book came out in October and I'm working on Book 2 now! (You can read sample at link above).

Anyway, I'll try really hard to keep this blog updated with life scenarios for those who are curious, and writing updates. I'll probably not post as many short stories now, as you can see I'm in full steam writing novels, but I'll share snippets of my current stories.

Cheers to 2019!
Buy Book One HERE

Off to StokerCon!

This weekend I'm going to StokerCon in Las Vegas. This is put on by the Horror Writers Association. To say I'm excited doesnt really cut it. I'm drooling.

Getting accepted into HWA was a true thrill last year. Now, I'll be talking to, and taking workshops from Jack Ketchum, R.L. Stine, Heather Graham, and more. There's even a paranormal investigative team that may help me figure out the ghost hunting gear I bought for my birthday.

I'm not sure what will happen or why I'm so excited though. But it does feel like a weekend I won't forget. Or maybe that's just Vegas.

Witchy Tip from April Aasheim

I've just recently noticed that my dance fitness instructor looks a lot like I imagine Maggie Maddock. Shes tall and slim with wild auburn hair. She's a bit friendlier than Maggie and probably savier. She's also got sisters who she is very close to. She doesnt seem the type to believe in witchery, but you never know. I may have to do some more people watching for research.

The Married Diaries

Husband: What did you want to eat for dinner?
Me: I just spent 20 minutes telling you what I was making for dinner and what you could do to help.
Husband: You did? (scratches his head)
Me: Yes. You never listen to me.
Husband: That's not true. I picked up the baby oil and Fireball you sent me out for.
Me: (sighing). I sent you out for baby spinach and coconut water.
Husband: Ah, yeah, now I remember. But we can still put the oil and liquor to use, right?

Truth Over Fiction: 1

When I was 8 my whole family got into a car accident - except for me. I was spending the night at my cousin's house and I remember driving by the crushed white van with the light post slung across its midsection and laughing. "Look at that funny car," I told my aunt, not knowing my mom and siblings were involved.

My mom was thrown from the van and a light post landed on her leg. She was 7 months pregnant at the time and trapped. They were all rescued and sent to the hospital. My step dad and sisters were out in a couple of days but my mom stayed in nearly two weeks. Her leg was broken and they had to put a pin in. She'd also crushed her ribs and there were some organs they worried over. But the baby at least was safe.

I'd already become the 'responsible kid'. My older sister had moved out and I was next in line. During my moms hospital stay and after she came home, I learned to cook egg sandwiches, grilled cheese, canned soup, etc. I also learned to clean house, wash dishes, and do other household chairs as my mom wasn't able to stand and my stepfather was always working.

But the thing I remember most wadi  the shopping and the laundry.

My younger sister Niki and I were put in charge of both.

The shopping required us to get 50 dollars a week from my mom. My step father was a waiter at the time and the 50 bucks was tough to part with. Niki and I would take the money and then Las Vegas intersection to the grocery store. We had our list (which we helped write) and we picked out our food. We learned to comparison shop (50 dollars didn't get you much) and look for sales. We always ended in the cereal section where Niki and I would debate for many minutes on which one to get for the week. Sugar was important. Prizes, more so. Deciding who would get the prize would be determined later. We wheeled the full grocery cart back home and kept the cart there, because that next day we would fill it (with laundry) and used it again.

We didn't have laundry baskets in my house. My mother denoted an entire close to the care of dirty laundry. With five in the household (six after my brother was born) the clothes accumulated quickly and once or twice a month Niki and I would spend a Saturday morning sorting them out between colors and whites, bundle them up in garbage bags, and wheel them to the laundromat across that same busy intersection. We'd then spend the rest of our day tending laundry (buying soap, washing, drying, fighting others over machines, folding). Niki sang songs around the laundromat, twirling and dancing, while I usually sat there with a notebook in hand writing stories or doing homework, or sometimes reading.

When the ordeal was over we'd cart the entire thing back home to begin the cycle anew.

Sometimes our laundry closet pile grew half as tall as I was and required two carts. Once, it was so large, that I left a runaway note, then hid in the laundry for 4 hours while they looked for me.

I bring all this up because I'm in bed now, staring at the pile of dirty clothes next to me, nowhere near my hamper. I wonder how many quirks and neurosis I've carried over. I hate to do laundry, even though we have a great machine in our garage. And, unlike a lot of women I know, I hate to go grocery shopping, even though my husband helps and we have more than a 50 dollar budget that is not divided between 5 people.

The Tables Are Turned

     I was talking with my husband the other night about what it feels like (for me) living in a man's world. "We're still objectified," I said.
     We are dining out, in a restaurant known for hiring beautiful young women. This is not what the restaurant advertises, but rather an accepted 'fact' around the community. Guys often say, 'hey lets go to such and such and check out the talent there.' As I'm talking to my husband our lovely, young mini-skirt wearing waitress is at the next table, fending off advances while flirting her way to better tips.
     "What I'm saying," I inform him, "is that females grow up in a different world than males. Look around this place. Almost half the customers here are men. Would that demographic be as equally split if we were at a restaurant known for its hot guy waiters?"
     "Maybe."
     "Really? You guys would go to it, without complaining?"
     "If the food was really good."
     "Its the same thing for movies and even TV now. Girls grow up seeing images of nude and nearly nude women on the screen, all the time. I don't even know what normal boobs look like anymore because all the ones I see are perfect. And we girls have to be cool with it, because if we aren't we are jealous or crazy. But hey, if we get 30 seconds of Hugh Jackman running around without a shirt its a good day!"
     "Yeah? What are you getting at?"
     I just wonder how men's psyches would be different if they grew up in a world where they felt continuously judged and ordered according to their appearance, where they couldn't watch a movie without seeing a naked man surrounded by fully clothed women in a bar, and where waiters were objectified as our waitresses are." I lean in close. "What kind of world would that be?"
     "If men were objectified just like women are?"
     "Yes."
     "Sounds like an awesome world to me."

According to the commercial I just heard in my car, there is every indication that I have unnaturally low testosterone, including my inability to have and maintain an erection. Lucky for me, the convenience store sells pills for this, right by the gummy bear section.

A Writer's Life

I'm working hard to get The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two out. I have just 40 days to get it all done before the final editor takes over. Writing a novel is tough, especially one with a complicated story line, and my brain doesn't want to shut off. Every time I close my eyes I see another scene, or something I've missed, or something that needs to be added. When I'm writing, I live in another world and its tough to pull out of it. And then, when it's done, I get 'writer's amnesia' where I have a hard time remembering what I wrote at all.

The Dark Root books take about 9 months for me to write (sometimes slightly more or less) and I'm always baffled and dazed when they are done.

And its never enough. There are always things you could do/change, even after your book is for sale. Always a part of me that screams "wait!" But like the saying goes, art is never finished, just abandoned.

At any rate, I'm hoping my readers enjoy this one. Im feeling more pressure this time than anytime before. And when Im freaking out I ask myself "why the hell am I doing this?" And then, almost miraculously, I get an email or a msg or a review from someone telling me how important my books are to them, and then I remember.

Heart Day 2016

My husband took me to dinner last night for Valentine's Day. It was lovely. Cheese, meat, and chocolate fondue until you can't take it anymore. He even got me a card.
Not a big deal,right? Well, the last card he got me was on my birthday and 1. He forgot to sign it 2. He forgot to give it to me and 3. He forgot to take it out of the bag. He's wonderful in many ways, but spontaneous romance (or one that involves milling around the Hallmark section of the grocery store) isnt his forte.
But the card was sweet and thoughtful. He wrote that he loved his 'quirky, lovable, brilliant, creative, and inspiring wife.' I  melted. Not sure what or why but those words got to me. Like, he saw the best in me and I knew it.
As a side note, I did try and get him something from Victoria's Secret for Valentine's Day (and wow, I just realized the acronym for that is VD which might have been appropriate during some age) but the corsets they tried to sell me pushed my middle in, while doubling my bottom and tripling my chins. Although Im sure darling husband wouldn't have minded, I have that image of the beautiful sales girl trying to tell me I looked 'amazing' (when we both knew I didn't) forever, and ever.
Oh well. That's married love, I suppose.

Woodland Creek Spotlight

This month's Book Nymph magazine features the Woodland Creek books, all 30 of them. Check it out :)
The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon is featured on page 30.

Why the Cult?

One question I get asked a lot about my Dark Root books is 'why does book one start out like that?'

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

The 'start' referred to is Maggie's time in the cult. Yes, cult, I said it. I think we can officially agree Maggie was in a cult.

There are a few reasons for this, and it was very intentional. The first being that this book was originally defined as 'women's fiction' rather than 'paranormal.' In women's fiction, the emphasis is on relationships and inner problems. For Maggie, who was a middle child and felt at odds with her natural family, her relationship with Michael was her first outside of her family. Its important for the rest of the story, as Maggie (whose mother has always distrusted the male gender) has to learn her own way to love, and to trust men. Its tricky for her, and I really wanted to solidify her heartbreak. That way, IF she can move past it, thats a form of transcendence.

Secondly, though my books are about 'witchiness' they are about so much more. Family comes to mind. But more than that, faith. Though it didn't work out with Maggie and Michael's religion, she learned about another faith (misguided though it was). Faith exists in many forms and Maggie had to lose hers again, in order to have it later restored. I also feel its very important to show that one faith is no more important than the other, its just important to believe in something. Sometimes that belief doesn't work out, but that doesn't mean we are done. There are other things we can believe in: a higher power, our friends and family, humanity. I think at times many of us are just stumbling around, trying to figure things out, and I wanted Maggie to embody that human struggle.


And finally, some of what happened at the beginning of book one MAY come back later in the series. And Michael may end up playing some pivotal roles. Just because his beliefs have been torn apart, doesn't mean he cant rebuild either. Thats the cool thing about faith. If you really have it, deep down, it might change over time, but it stays there.

So yeah, that's why theres the cult scene. And for those of you who've read this book and asked 'is Jason ever coming back' I will say, his story isn't done. It may come back in flashbacks, or stories, or appearances, but he's still around. I kinda fell in love with him and I didnt forget him. He's just not around 'yet'.

But more of that in The Curse of Dark Root, Part two perhaps.

BTW if you haven't read The Witches of Dark Root, you can read it in Happily Ever Alpha, along with 21 other stories, for just 99 cents. Preorder today.

Haunted Portland

I went to Orycon this weekend. This is Oregon's scifi/fantasy con and it was pretty fun. I'm a noob so wasn't sure what to expect but there were some fun panels (which I even helped lead when one of the presenters didn't show up), people dressed up in all sorts of costume, and some 'quiz games' that I was apparently too inebriated to play.

One really cool thing was I met a man named Jefferson Davis. He's an anthropologist/archaeologist/historian who wrote books on haunted places around the world, including the pacific northwest. He also helped write Weird Oregon.

Mr Davis is going to give me a tour of haunted Portland soon for research on my books and Im so excited. This guy really knows his stuff.

At some point I'll be writing Juliana Benbridge's back story for my Dark Root series, and she was cast out of Victorian Portland because of witchcraft. Now, I'll have some great details to add to this.

Its always interesting to me who you'll meet in this world, often times unexpectedly. I love that!

Dark Root Christmas available Nov 25

A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift, will be available days earlier than expected!
If you need a Dark Root fix until Curse part 2 comes out in the spring, this should help :)
The Maddock girls (when they were young) tackle Christmas in this mystical 20k word novella.
Love, family, and magick take center stage.

Pre-Order now for just 99 cents. Read on Nov 25th!

April Aasheim Book Signing-Orycon 2015

I'll be selling and signing books at Orycon in Portland, Oregon at the beautiful Waterfront Marriott Hotel from 1-3 on Saturday, Nov 21. I'll be in the dealers room at the NIWA table. If you're around, please come say hi. :)

What's a Demon to Do?

The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon is live!
Does your lineage determine your life path or do you have free will?
Check it out for just 2.99. It's also FREE to read with Kindle Unlimited :)

A Dark Root Christmas

A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift is available for pre-order now.
Order now, read Nov 29.
Just 99cents for a limited time.

A Dark Root Christmas - Sneak Preview

(Sneak Preview - A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift)

Prologue

The star fell.

It plunged from the sky like a china cup toppling from its hook, shattering into a thousand crystalline pieces as it tumbled through the otherwise still winter’s night.

“It was beautiful,” Merry insisted when she told the story to her Aunt Dora the following evening, her full lips turning into a pout. “But I wasn’t fast enough to make a wish while it was still in the sky.”

Aunt Dora, who’d been busy trying to get her electric mixer to work, nodded her soft chin, only half-listening. “Mmm-hmm.”

Merry closed her eyes, remembering the star’s dance, twisting and undulating against the backdrop of a Dark Root moon. In another moment the star broke apart. Lustrous, golden trains the color of Merry’s hair followed the fragments as they streaked across the sky.

“They were so bright,” she continued as she dipped a finger into the silver bowl while Aunt Dora wrestled with her mixer. “Every one of them. I had to hold my breath because I was afraid that if I moved, I’d frighten them away.”

“Mmm,” Aunt Dora half-heartedly agreed as she tried outlet after outlet without success.

Merry bowed her head, catching her reflection in the bowl. Her normally round face was lengthened in the mirror, lending her a shadowed glimpse of what her adult self would look like one day. “They died before they reached the earth. Every one of them.”

“Aye. As stars do.” Dora hit the switch and the mixer roared to life, before abruptly stalling again. “Someday our star will die, as well.”

“That’s horrible!”

Aunt Dora’s cumbersome shoulders hunched and then relaxed, a weighty sigh escaping her lips. “That is the cycle of life. There is a beginning and an end to everything.” Then, giving her niece a firm look, added, “And part of the reason for your being here, sweet Merry. To keep our own star aglow for as long as possible.”

It was an unwieldy burden for a ten-year-old child, and one Merry couldn’t possibly fathom, but she took her Aunt’s news with a patient resolve. She couldn’t be afraid. If she were afraid, her sisters would be, too.

Besides, the star tails hadn’t all died. There was one fragment that survived the fall, one small star seed that Merry hadn’t mentioned.

It had dropped softly into the forest just yards away from her.

She ran for it, unafraid of the night or the creatures lurking within, trying to reach it before it dissolved into an earth softened by light snow and heavy rains.

And when she found it, she stopped and gasped, her cornflower blue eyes full of wonder.

Where the star tail had fallen there was now a tiny bright light springing up out of the ground, a light no larger than the palm of her hand. It shone like a lit candle, casting a white halo on the already powdery forest around her.

And as Merry stepped tentatively forward, she saw that in that light there was a silver tree sapling. Rich on the nutrients of the star-shard and the magic of Dark Root soil, the silver tree grew before her eyes until it nearly reached the height of her knees.

“Oh!” was all she could say, then quickly recovered from her astonishment. She made a silent wish on the seedling, though she didn’t know if a wish would take when the star was no longer in the sky.

But it was her only chance and she made her wish like only a child could - with reverence and a certainty that there was someone watching over her, and that special someone had sent her the star.

It was nearly her birthday after all.

Merry didn’t tell a soul about what she’d found or the wish she’d made.

Not her teddy bears or her dolls, nor her sisters or her mother. Not even her Aunt Dora, who had now tossed out the old mixer with the casualness of one throwing out a cat for the night, and was whisking her cake batter by hand, grunting and huffing all the while.

There was one other omission to her story - the white, baby owl she’d found huddled near the sapling, covering its face beneath a wing.

“You’re beautiful,” she told the bird, taking him with her as she returned back home.

Merry told no one of these discoveries.

For she was the keeper of secrets, then, and evermore.

Coming Thanksgiving, 2015.

Newsletter

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