In the Labyrinth

A New Undertaking: Leaping Hart Press

 

 

I am happy to announce that I have finally taken the plunge and created my independent small press, Leaping Hart Press. It has been an exciting process, watching as each requirement for an LLC falls into place (though not without some anxiety and middle-of-the-night worry.) I am now busy re-reading the original manuscripts and revising, editing, and correcting old mistakes as necessary. There is some joy in this process as I rediscover the work anew and remember who I was at the time of creating the novel. I wrote my first novel when my children were small. Subsequent books were written between driving the children to school, teaching at a high school, researching one magical year-long trip in Italy, and mourning the death of my father and, later, my mother. I see how many moments in the novels echo the events in my life.

But I also am not entirely done writing novels and essays either. Once the backlit is out and published, I look forward to a handful of new projects. Collected short stories (some old, some new), with permission, a collection of my Bordertown Stories, with one or two new ones to join the previously published novellas, and a sequel to at least one of my novels, if not two.

Ambitious? Probably, but not unreasonable, especially as I have terrific friends in the publishing community ready to offer assistance -- which is both humbling and helpful to know. 

 

Reorganizing Priorities: What to Publish After Hannah's Garden

I have been going back and forth, trying to decide which of my out-of-print novels to reissue after Hannah's Garden. The stand-alone novels seem easier, cleaner, less complicated, and at least well-edited. But how wondrous and strange it is that the Oran Trilogy, a barely edited three-volume sprawling series, continues to be the most asked for in my list. So be it.

With the help of a terrific editor and copy editor, I will spend the summer months re-reading and editing the original manuscripts. My greatest hope is that my readers will not notice the changes but rather sense the more cohesive narrative of the edited versions. It will be a journey backward for me, as it has been many years since I read the entire series. I look forward to experiencing it for the first time, not just as an author but as a reader.

 

I am pleased now to be able to show the gorgeous cover art for the trilogy, especially since the old covers were beyond awful. 

 

                                                                                                                   

 

Working on the Reissue of The Flight of Michael McBride.

As the work on Hannah's Garden is getting finalized this month for release in November, I have also begun the work of re-issuing The Flight of Michael Michael, which will be published by Leaping Hart Press. Set in the late 1870s, the novel is an unusual pairing of Irish fantasy and and the iconic American cattle ride. What better way for a not yet hero to undergo a rite of passage? Here's an excerpt from the novel, where Michael discovers that he sees more things in the world than an ordinary man...terrifying creatures hunting him for reasons he doesn't understand. Here's an excerpt from Chapter Three:

"...There was no carriage standing before him, but as he turned to look behind him, Michael tensed. There, waiting on a black horse, was the man in the red cap. Only now Michael saw it wasn’t a cap, but long red hair slicked down close to the sides of the man’s narrow face. Surrounding the man were other mounted horsemen spread across the street, their spears and axes held upright. On the pommels of their saddles were skulls tied together, festooned with red and green ribbons and the glint of twirling gold coins. In the shadows of the building, the horsemen’s faces were a deep mottled brown, their bodies thick and strong like carved oak. But in the open street, the sunlight drenched the armor and the warriors shone transparent as a sheet of gold rain. They were attended by wraiths whose pale gray faces wore masks of misery and who stared at Michael out of haunted eyes. Hands soft as dust clung to the bridles and held the mounts steady. Shadowed substance and shining light, they appeared to Michael at once solid and threatening as a closing storm and as vaporous as a misty dream. The man with the long red hair nodded at Michael.

"Red Cap. That’s what the tiny stick creatures had called him. And Michael recognized him at once. The man was hunting him, and this time he’d brought an army.

"A crow cawed loudly overhead and the horsemen shifted in their saddles, their eyes trained upward toward the sound. Out of the blue sky, a huge black crow flapped wide her wings, driving a black shadow over the street beneath her gliding body. The horsemen stirred, clutching the reigns as their mounts became restive. The wraiths bowed their heads into the deep valleys of their bony shoulders. Red Cap broke away from the line of waiting horsemen to confront the crow. He pulled his long bow from a case in his saddle and knocked a long arrow of yew, its red fletch a streak of blood."

By the Work of Hands, We Heal Ourselves.

I am heading to the desert for a while and bringing new projects along....looking forward to the dry cool nights, and the stars high overhead.

And then I found these fall beauties from Madeleine Tosh! Let's see how fast I can knit while trying to finish preparing a second novel for re-release (Flight of Michael McBride) and spend time up in the mountains of the Mogollon Rim. Forget covid, forget elections, forget strife. Just be a maker....