Deegie the witch wields some weird, wonderful magic in my series, The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs. With a cry of “Gynecomastia!” she casts her Big Ol’ Boobs spell with comical results. The Don’t Talk to Me spell gets rid of chatty strangers, and yes, she really can turn someone into a frog! Oh, to have that kind of power! I’d love to use the Big Ol’ Boobs spell on a certain ex-boyfriend who comes to mind.
 
No, the magic used in The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs isn’t even close to being “real” magic, and I did that for a couple of reasons. First, I had to let my weird imagination have some fun creating these bizarre spells, and second, if I had used “real” magic, it would have slowed the storyline down to a crawl. In every book, Deegie has to fight off demons, and zombie crows, and all manner of creepy-crawlies. I could just see her telling them, “Hold on one sec, all you ghoulish creatures from Heck. I need to ground and center, cast a circle, and…where did I put those candles?” Still, though, I did add some elements of “real” magic in Deegie’s adventures, and I’ll list a couple of them for you here.


SALT

In a couple of scenes, Deegie uses ordinary table salt to keep a demon from crossing a threshold, and to outline a protective circle. Salt is thought to represent life in its purist form, since all life is believed to have originated from the ocean. Since some supernatural baddies are the complete opposite of life, salt is used as protection against psychic attacks and undesirable paranormal phenomena. Black salt can be used for a stronger form of protection, which, in hindsight, is probably what Deegie should have used when she battled the basement demon in A Jar of Fingers.


WHITE LIGHT

The white light of protection is another way Deegie shields herself from paranormal nasties. White is the color of purity, which is another thing demons and ghoulies can’t stand. White light is summoned by the magical practitioner, who then encases him or herself in it. White light can also be used for healing, as Deegie does when she revives a fallen comrade in Seven Deadly Ghosts. Despite having an unusual disability, Deegie excels at summoning white light.


GEMSTONES, HERBS, & ESSENTIAL OILS

Many magical practitioners use gemstones, herbs, and essential oils, particularly those who practice Earth Magic. Deegie keeps hers in a carved wooden box on her fireplace mantle, and she is known for her homemade herbal blends that she sells in her shop, The Silent Cat. At the end of each Deegie Tibbs book is a bonus chapter with recipes for herbal teas, information on oils and gemstones, and much more!

photo credits  http://www.canstockphoto.com/



​Want to learn more about Deegie Tibbs and her magical world? Check out my Amazon author page to order A Jar of Fingers, The Witch War of Fiddlehead Creek, and Seven Deadly Ghosts!  amazon.com/author/clhernandez

It happens to every writer sooner or later: those days when you Just. Can’t. Write. It’s frustrating, it’s infuriating, and, if it’s severe enough, it can bring a career to a screeching halt. Some writers claim writer’s block doesn’t exist, but it’s a very real thing for me, and it tends to stop by for a visit at the most inopportune moments.

What to do if it happens to you? Try one of these imaginative tricks to fend off writer’s block and get those words flowing again! Sometimes I use them both together, and, more often than not, the block loosens and I can get back to work.

Try some music. When I write, I like to imagine the story playing out as a movie in my head. Sometimes certain songs that fit the scene I’m working on will pop into my head, and I’m amazed at how much it enhances my writing. So, when I hit a snag in the creation of a book or story, I’ll think of a song or a piece of music that goes along with what I’m writing. I put on my headphones, get comfortable, then play the music and think of my characters. It’s weird, but it works for me!

Here is some of the music that has helped me over some rough spots in my writing.
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Battle scenes: Mussorgsky’s “A Night on Bald Mountain,” A Perfect Circle’s “Counting Bodies Like Sheep,” Lacuna Coil’s “Angel’s Punishment,” and Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.”

Scary scenes: Prokofiev’s “Dance of the Knights,” Chopin’s “Funeral March,” Rachmaninov’s “The Isle of the Dead,” and “Monsters,” by The Cruxshadows.

Medieval scenes (dragons, castles, fair maidens): Jethro Tull’s “Moths,” Plumbo’s “Ola Nordmann,” Arany Zoltan’s “King of the Faeries,” and The Corrs’ “Old Hag.”

Scenes of love and romance: Ravel’s “Bolero,” Fleetwood Mac’s “Honey Hi,” Leo Delibe’s “Flower Duet,” and Fleetwood Mac’s “You and I, part 2.”

Scenes of sadness and tragedy: Sia’s “Breathe Me,” Roy Orbison’s “It’s Over,” Handel’s “Largo,” and Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Scenes of happiness and joy: Vivaldi’s “Autumn (3rd movement),” Mozart’s “Le Nozze di Figaro (Overture),” Katrina and the Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine,” and Ace of Base’s “I Saw the Sign.”

Look at some pictures. This can be a fun activity, and I do this even when I don’t have writer’s block. I think of the scene that’s giving me trouble, starting with the setting. Then I google some matching pictures. For instance, if I’m writing about medieval castles and damsels in distress, I’ll check out some pictures of mossy old castles, dragons, and suits of armor while I listen to “King of the Faeries.”

This is even more effective if you’re a visual person. While you look at the images and/or listen to the music, try to relax and focus on your characters. Let them have the run of your mind, and don’t even think about your writer’s block. When you’re finished, go back to your work in progress and see what happens. You might very well be pleasantly surprised!

Character interviews are usually done during the developmental stage of a book, when the characters are being fleshed out and brought to life, but I don’t always follow the “rules.” I thought it would be fun—and perhaps a little dangerous—to interview the enigmatic and ghostly Alessio DeLuca, the plague doctor from my new release, The Curious Case of the Tuscan Plague Doctor.

I chose a relatively uncluttered area of my mind to use as an interview room. I tidied up a bit, clearing away leftover insomnia cobwebs and hastily sweeping some embarrassing teenage memories under the rug. Then I selected some questions from the Marcel Proust Questionnaire for DeLuca.

He arrived right on time.

Doctor DeLuca is a character of my own creation, but I’d completely forgotten what a huge man he is. Well…was. He is a ghost, after all. Standing well over six feet tall, he would have needed to duck through the low doorway had he been a living man. Instead, his masked head passed right through the top of the door frame as if it hadn’t even been there. One of the advantages of being a ghost, I suppose.

I offered him a chair, but instead he just hovered in front of me, fading in and out like a faulty VHS tape. He smelled horrible. His foul, smoky stench almost made me gag, but that’s what I get for creating him that way.
He looked at me expectantly through the red lenses of his mask, and I got down to business.

CLH: “Alrighty then, Dr. DeLuca, first question. What is your idea of perfect happiness?”

AD: “A home, a good wife, food on the table, robust health...but it can all be taken away from you in an instant, can’t it?”

CLH: “What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?”

AD: “Anger! I don’t know how to control it!”

(He raised his cane, as if to smash something in my little mind-office, then regained composure and lowered it again. I was relieved. My brain is scrambled enough as it is)

AD “Excuse me. As you can see, it’s my own anger that I deplore. Can you blame me after what happened to me?”

CLH: “No, no, I don’t blame you at all. Let’s move on the next question.”

(He lowered his masked head a little, as if embarrassed by his outburst, and his outline wavered again.)

CLH: “How about this question then: What is the trait you most despise in others?”

(He laughed then, and I was pleasantly surprised at his mirth, despite its dark undertones.)
 
AD: “I despise those who think they can help themselves to whatever they like. Thieves, robbers, bandits. I’m sure you know who I’m talking about.”

(Oh yes. The incident behind the grocery store. How could I have forgotten about that? A certain thief won’t be helping himself to anyone else’s belongings anymore. Actually, he won’t be doing anything anymore. I caught myself studying DeLuca’s cane, checking for any remaining evidence.)

AD: “Are we finished?”

CLH: “What…? Oh, no, sorry, I was just…okay, next question: Which living person do you most admire?”

AD: “An easy one this time. There are two living people I admire: Zolena Gillette and her…ah…companion, Jacopo. It was they who finally figured out a way to cut the ties that bound me here on the Earthly plane.”

CLH: “I can see why you admire them. Even after you frightened them half to death, they still wanted to help. Even after you caused Zolena to wreck her car—”

AD: “That was not my fault! I was trying to prevent her from having an accident!”

(He raised his cane again, and I cringed back, more than a little nervous now.)

CLH: “No, of course not. Let’s move on. Now then, what do you most dislike about your appearance?”

AD: “Well now, what do you think?” (He gestured at his voluminous black clothing, the fearsome mask on his face, the round-brimmed hat that looked slightly out of place.) “This is what I was wearing when I was—ahem—removed from the physical world, and it is what I will wear throughout eternity. Not exactly my Sunday best, is it?”

(It was also creepy as hell, but I kept that thought to myself.)

CLH: “What or who is the greatest love of your life?”

AD: “Another easy one. It’s Lavinia, of course. My wife is the greatest love of my life. She is the reason I lived, and she is the reason I…you know. When the pestilence took her, there was no way I could go on without her.”

(His response almost brought me to tears, and I’m not really a big fan of mushy-lovey stuff.)

CLH: “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

AD: “Being alive again would be nice!”

CLH: “What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?”

AD: “When people count on you, trust in you, and expect that you will help them, but you cannot. To know that the pitiful cures you administer are ineffective, but you do it anyway because it’s all you can do. To feel like an utter failure is the lowest depth of misery.”

(He lowered his head again, and in the flickering light of my firing neurons, I caught a glimpse of his eyes behind the red tinted lenses of his mask. They were large, brown, and expressive. They misted over with unshed tears, and I had to look away.)

CLH: “What is your most marked characteristic?”

(He cocked his head, as if in amusement, and I sensed a smile behind the mask now.)

AD: “My handsome face, of course!”

(Was he handsome? I didn’t recall writing him that way. I reminded myself to look through the book later.)

CLH: “Who are your favorite writers?”

(He struck a thoughtful pose before replying, with his fingers resting on the bottom half of his mask, where his chin would be.)

AD: “I enjoy the poetry of Giambattista Moreno, and Ragguagli di Parnasso, by Traiano Boccalini has always been a favorite of mine.”

(Hmm. Okay. I’d never heard of these guys. And wasn’t he forgetting a certain someone?)
AD: “And C. L. Hernandez, of course. Did you think I would forget? You brought me to life, after all. Well…in a sense…”

CLH: “Fair enough. Now then, who are your heroes?”

AD: “My heroes are the people who keep pressing forward against all odds. Those who keep fighting with the last reserves of their courage in order to assist those in need. The medici, the peacekeepers, those who fight fires; those are my heroes.”

CLH: “People like yourself, then?”

AD: “No. Not like me. I was a coward in life, not a hero.”

CLH: “If you say so. I’d say you tried your best. Okay, we’re almost finished. What is your greatest regret?”

AD: “My greatest regret is that I was unable to save the lives of my wife and unborn child. I did try, you know. I did. But only a miracle could have saved them, and I am…was…only a man.”

CLH: “None of what happened was your fault. Remember that. Now then, last question: How would you like to die?”

(Crap! It was out of my mouth before I even realized it. How could I be such an insensitive bitch? Had I really added that that question to the interview? Frantically, I looked down at my jumble of notes. I was looking at the wrong interview! But it was too late. I was most likely going to receive the flogging of my life via DeLuca’s cane. But to my amazement, he laughed instead. Laughed!)

AD: “Really, C.L. What a thing to ask. I believe we’re finished here.”
(And with that, he began to fade, bit by bit, until all that remained of him was the smell of ancient smoke.)
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Are you curious about Alessio DeLuca? Want to know more about him? Pick up a copy of The Curious Case of the Tuscan Plague Doctor, available in ebook and paperback! Click here for an excerpt, buying links, a free four-chapter preview, and more!

barkingrainpress.org/curious-case-tuscan-plague-doctor

And if you’re curious about the Marcel Proust Questionnaire, you can find more info here

thewritepractice.com/proust-questionnaire

When I first got the idea to write Mr. Goddard’s Menagerie, I knew right away I’d have quite a challenge ahead of me. I wanted the character of Zuri LaCrosse, reluctant werewolf, to be strong and fearsome, yet vulnerable. I wanted people to like her, and at the same time, be just a little afraid of her. I wanted her human side to come through, yet—well, you get the picture.
 
I broke a few “werewolf rules” in writing this book, one of them being that business with the full moon. In the first draft of the book (there were five drafts in all), I included the Full Moon Rule. It wound up slowing the story down considerably, so I decided to take some creative liberties with it and left it out. I wanted my werewolves to transform whenever they damn well pleased, and I think the story has a better flow to it as a result.
 
It is thought that the belief that werewolves can only transform under the full moon came from what is now known as the Lunar Effect. That’s just a technical name for the phenomenon of the full moon causing bizarre behavior in some people.
 
Another legend regarding werewolf transformation involves the use of an object called the Wolf Belt, or Werewolf Belt. This is a belt made of either wolf or human skin. Supposedly these belts were made by the Devil himself and given to his followers. Once the belt was fastened into place, the wearer was transformed into a werewolf. (As I write this, I’m getting a hell of an idea for Zuri Tales 2: Band of Freaks.)
 
The second rule I smashed was the one that says werewolves can only be killed by a silver bullet. Although silver is used in Mr. Goddard’s Menagerie as a way of tormenting the werewolves, they can be killed by the same things that snuff out human lives. In fact, one of them meets quite a grisly end at the hands of another type of paranormal critter.
 
The legend of the silver bullet came about due to that precious metal’s link to the moon in magical lore. (there’s that moon again.) Since werewolves were transformed by the moon, it made sense that they should die by the moon as well. And what better way to do that than with a piece of precious metal that represented it.
 
Which brings us to the third rule: the one about werewolves’ insatiable lust for human flesh. I threw that one out too—sort of. While my werewolves aren’t averse to chowing down on a hunk of human haunch, they do just fine with regular food and choice cuts of meat from the grocery store.
 
In one particular scene, Zuri enjoys a gourmet meal, complete with a scrumptious dessert. She does, however, have a bit of trouble with her table manners. After all, she is a werewolf.


Grab a copy of Mr. Goddard's Menagerie for yourself! Available in eBook and paperback.

                          http://bookShow.me/B01GGRKFAA

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