• Join 560 other followers

  • Facebook

  • Twitter

  • Most Recent Posts

  • What I’m writing about

  • Archives

My take on Snow White

Once upon a time,a long time ago in a kingdom far away from California, a young woman wrote a story about Snow White for literotica.

I started with two premises in mind—what if beauty was a curse, and what if the Evil Queen wasn’t evil? The result was a short story called “For Love of Snow White.” I wrote it in 2002 and barely thought of it for over a decade. But I saw a call for submissions that would fit the story, so I pulled it out of my archive, polished it up and sent it in. My editor asked me to expand it–which I did by about 10k words. The resulting story is still called “For Love of Snow White,” and while it is not erotica, it is a dark feminist take on the Snow White story.

Here’s a snippet

The carriage ride to the convent was long, and my book held little interest for me. Idly, I took my mirror from the pocket of my gown.

“Mirror, Mirror in my hand, who’s the fairest in the land?”

I received the answer I’d dreaded for five years. I was told “You, my queen, are lovely as a pearl, but your beauty cannot compare to the girl’s.”

The new god’s curse had struck in full.

“Mama!” Snow greeted me with a warm embrace.

“Snow! Let me look at how you’ve grown!”

No longer garbed like a novitiate, Snow White was breathtaking. She had hair as black as midnight cascading to her waist. Her skin was pale as the snow she was named for. Snow White’s eyes glowed bluer than any sapphire. Her lips formed a perfect red bow. She was dressed in a blue gown that accented her womanly curves and she moved with a grace that even I envied. Her voice was soft, yet carried a note of seduction that she seemed unaware of. She had reached her majority and her powers, although untrained, were at their full strength.

The king and priests had spoken—she was to leave, no matter what the head of the nun’s order thought of it. I took her home, too distracted by the mirror’s revelation and worried by Snow’s beauty to take advantage of the two hours alone in the carriage. She was silent, looking out a window rather than wanting to talk. Perhaps she was thinking of Charmaine. I should’ve taken her to the stone dance right away, bespelled the driver, anything. But how could I know what was to come?

You can read my almost novella in Myths, Monsters, Mutations edited by Jessica Augustsson, forthcoming from Jayhenge in 2017

A Pirate’s Life For Me…

Siem Reap has been submitted. Everyone send good thoughts–if accepted, it will be my first solo publication, and I’m so excited by the prospect.

So what’s next?

princess bride 2

I’ve decided to take my pirate story, Plunder (not currently published) and extend it.  Brianna (Bree) and William are one of my favorite couples, and I think you guys would enjoy seeing more of them than a 5k story.

Here is a draft of our introduction to Brianna, who is being picked up from finishing school to go back to her beloved ship, the Maya. The Headmistress of the school speaks first.  (Keep in mind that this is a very rough draft that I wrote two days ago–there has been no editing, and the final opening will likely look very different.)

 

The woman sniffed. “I have a letter for her father. You should know, Miss Northerly, that I take no credit for how you’ve turned out. You arrived a hoyden, and much to my dismay, you are leaving one. You are my great failure.”

Bree grinned widely. “I take that as the very greatest of compliments, Mrs. Lingstrom.” She swept into a deep curtsey. Once upright again, she lifted her skirts and did a little sailor’s jig. “Fair weather to you, and may I never darken your doorstep again. Let’s go, Marcus.”

With that, Brianna Northerly turned her back on a dismal four years of enforced femininity and strode out to the waiting carriage.

Marcus shook his head at her behavior. “So much for turnin’ ye into a lady.”

“A lady will do you no good on the ship. A solid deckhand, on the other hand, will,” Bree retorted as she climbed into the carriage.

Marcus spoke to the driver before climbing in after her. “Lass,” he began.

She interrupted him. “I’m so glad Father changed his mind! Was it you? Was it all my letters? What convinced him?”

Her companion swallowed hard. “Ye don’t know, do ye?”

A feeling of foreboding settled like a storm cloud in the pit of Bree’s stomach. “What don’t I know, Marcus?”

“I’m taking you to be wed.”

What?”