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I’m working at streamlining my blogging progress, hence the experimentation in titles.

Aaaand, story!


(In our story, the rebel has just admitted to knowing very little about magic or the circumstances in the forest, and the handsome Moffer Bones has now begun to explain. Enjoy!)

Moffer’s Country

“So my father, when he built this place, set himself up right on the border of the forest and wove a pocket of pure magic so that this house, the pond, and the land just around it is essentially a free-standing country in its own right. The fairies have no jurisdiction here and can’t get into this house unless I invite them. When my dad went into hiding he passed the ownership of the house to me, so it used to be that my dad had to invite a person in, but now it’s me, and all the people my dad had visit before can’t get in now unless I ask them in. You and Monacsta are the only ones I’ve let in that way.

“Anyway, but there’s a network of powerful magic that runs through the air, the trees, and the water of my pond, and when you came up to see me, I was playing with some of that woven magic and doing a bit of maintenance with my fishing rod. Sometimes the weave gets sort of frayed in different places, and I do upkeep on the overall magical situation. Um, so I was fishing, but it was magic fishing. What else do you want to know?” Moffer Bones asked.

I thought through things for a minute and then I said, “Well, I flew up towards you, and the first thing you said—well, I said hello, of course, and the first thing you said back to me was, ‘You’re Winstance. I’ve heard about you.’ I want to know exactly what you heard, and from whom.”

I said all that, and I know I sounded pretty decided because Moffer Bones turned all serious and gave me a speech about a couple of fairies, guy fairies, who apparently come out to visit Moffer once or twice a month to shoot the breeze and share gossip.

I’m not going to give you all the details of what Moffer said, because most of it isn’t pertinent to this story I’m telling you, but basically a couple of fairy dudes have been playing the fence and sort of being on both Moffer Bones’ and the Queen’s side in all this long-running conflict, so they would drop by and give Moffer Bones the gossip.

I was very frustrated, however, to learn that Moffer Bones really had been told that I was an idiot, and pretty helpless with magic. Like, grrr. Because I’m not. I know I’m turning out to have way more power than I imagined now, but I’ve never been deficient, gosh.

That’s such a mean thing to say about a person.

It turns out the Queen has been making sure I stay in my own little area of the forest—which, I thought everyone stuck to their own spot, okay?—and then she basically lied to me about magic rules and made sure I don’t do anything much, power-wise, and then she goes around and says I’m incapable and borrowing her power! Like, rude!

Anyway, I told him that stuff, so we cleared up that question, and Moffer Bones had heard aaall about those trolls and how everyone thought I was scared of them. I’d better tell you that part, because it was kind of intense. Ugh!

You’re reading (and looking at) Victor Poole, and in my current novel, there’s a guy asking about a shirt (he likes it).


Aug 21, 2019: studies and Winstance

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(In our story so far, our fairy rebel has desired fine clothing, become embroiled in a long-standing fairy conflict, and is currently questioning Moffer Bones, who is half-god and very good-looking. Moffer Bones has just relayed that our rebel was made known to him first as an inept, mostly magical-less idiot. Enjoy!)

Friendly Overtures

I have to tell you, if Moffer Bones had said something like, ‘You’re cute’ to me before all the attempted kissing and the ‘let’s have a baby’ nonsense, I would have gotten the flutters to a serious extent, but at this point I was too mad to feel anything but blind fury at the darn Queen. I mean, gosh. What an awful person, you know?

Moffer Bones had told me that he thought I was cute when I was roused, and I was way too angry to respond much, so Moffer just looked at me with this fond expression, like I was a performing dog or something, and he kept talking.

“So I’d heard you were a clutzy, unable fairy child, and that you caused problems for everyone pretty regularly, and then you went and did that growing magic in front of me and got my size, which clearly indicated that you were not, in fact, incapable with magic. That’s when I wanted to find out your parentage, and when you admitted you didn’t know who your mother was and had been found in a flower, well—“

“Hey,” I interrupted. “Why did you grab me and take me out of the forest? It looked like you were trying to—hey! You even told me you tried to keep me out, too! What was all that about?” I demanded, and part of my anger towards the Queen was now, a little bit, spilling over towards Moffer Bones, because I’d gotten so caught up in all the new things I’d learned about my past that his early annoying behavior had slipped my mind.

Even at this point, I was getting a bit twisted up with all the overburdened details of the last several days, so I put up my hands before Moffer could respond and I was like, “Don’t answer that. Hang on. We’re backing up. I want to start from the very, very beginning. Just sit there for a second. I flew out here to see you because I wanted to ask about what Queen Amance was planning for me. I had that dumb old credit card and the pamphlet, and I flew up to say hello. Hang on. This is my first question for you. What were you doing when I flew up the first time? You were, like, sitting at the edge of the pond with a fishing pole. Were you actually fishing?” I asked.

Moffer Bones laughed.

“You talk a mile a minute and jump all over the place in the conversation. Yes, I was fishing, but not for fish. I was playing with the water currents. Magic,” Moffer Bones said, as if this was a complete explanation. I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he grinned in this really good-natured way and started looking ridiculously handsome to me again. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Has Amance hidden everything from you?” he asked.

I felt ready to be more honest because of how frank and normal he seemed, so I said, “Well, yes,” and Moffer Bones nodded and looked pleased as punch to explain things to me, which made me happy, because it seemed more like we were going to be friends now instead of him leaping at me with his mouth all kissy every other minute. Yeesh.

You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current novel, a tempestuous reunion is about to take place.

Just some story!

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These are more Loomis studies.


(So far in our story, the mysterious and handsome Moffer Bones has agreed to answer our fairy rebel’s questions, and he has just described his clothing-shopping habits. Enjoy!)

Slander and Gossip

“Next, I want to know why you started out being so rude and unfriendly when I came to visit you the first time, and why you’re all chummy and cooperative now. Explain all that,” I said, and Moffer Bones nodded and looked perfectly ready to answer in a prompt and thorough fashion, which pleased me to no end.

“I’ve been living here on the edge of the forest all my life, keeping half in the fairy territory and half in the human world, so all kinds of beings come along looking for help or answers. My dad lived here for a long time before me, before he ever met my mom, so this house—this is my dad’s house, originally.

“This house became a pretty central point for people to visit while my dad lived here, and when the curse hit my mom, things got tense. My dad repelled all visitors while he was raising me, and we lived in a fairly hermit-like way until he got sick of nothing going anywhere. I convinced him to put himself into a magical stasis, because he’d been through a lot and I didn’t mind figuring things out myself, and I’ve been extremely unfriendly to all comers ever since.

“People either want to stare, *&^% (make love, but he said it in much more explicit way), or steal, so I’m not exactly putting out the welcome wagon when anyone approaches. That’s why I was so unfriendly at first. I thought you were just another fairy kid come along to get a kick out of ogling Moffer Bones. That kind of tourist behavior pisses me off, so I was not friendly towards you.

“I knew you must be the one called—you know, your other name,” Moffer said with a grin, and I appreciated that he was going to the effort of not calling me Winstance, “because of the coloring of your wings, and because you were shedding out scraps of magic, which isn’t usual. I’d heard about you. I have some friends among the fairies, and they bring me gossip about stuff. I’d heard there was a bum child among the fairies who’d been born mentally deficient and whose magic was completely unstable. You,” Moffer Bones added.

“Mentally deficient?!” I demanded, because this made me pretty mad. Moffer Bones laughed and nodded.

“Yeah. I was told you couldn’t work magic properly, and that Amance took pity on you and gave you a lot of help so you could function as a regular fairy in the forest,” Moffer Bones said.

Now, I am not one for coarse language, but gosh! I was sorely tempted towards using the B word towards the Queen when I heard this! She’d been the one stealing power from me all along, it had turned out, and now I was hearing that she had the gall to act like she’d been helping me?! The nerve. I was furious. Moffer Bones laughed again.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, Joe,” he said.

You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current novel, someone is flying away in a spaceship.

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(The mysterious and handsome Moffer Bones has just explained to our fairy hero how his mother planned out clothing for him to wear throughout his baby- and childhood, as she knew she would be snatched away by an evil curse as soon as he was born. Enjoy!)

Moffer Bones’ Fortune

I was taken aback by the sweeping romance and emotional impact of the whole situation. I mean, can you imagine being pregnant with a baby you really, really want, and then knowing that you’re not going to see anything of the kid growing up? That would be so brutal.

So Moffer Bones asked me if he’d answered adequately, and I was kind of still in shock and trying to absorb the whole picture of how tragic his family history was—I know I’d heard the basic story from my half-sister already, but it’s way different to hear a guy talk about his own mother, and the details about the clothes really got at my heartstrings and made them all tangled up. I felt kind of misty-eyed.

Anyway, Moffer Bones said all that, and I cleared my throat a couple of times and tried to get a handle on myself, and Moffer Bones was like, “Are you sad?”

I said, “I feel pretty sorry for you and your mom,” and right away, like, that second, he was like, “Can we have a kid now? Please? Are you ready? Did you hear enough?”

I got a pretty epic stink-eye going on, because come on, gosh, and Moffer Bones backtracked really quickly.

“Sorry, no. Yes. You wanted to know where I got money for clothes, so I’ll tell you that. My dad’s a god and has perfect harmony, which means he has excellent luck, so he got a few lottery tickets and made off with gobs of money, which he invested, and now I have a heck of a lot of money for anything I need in the human world. That’s what I shop with, is my dad’s money. So I don’t know what else you’d want to know. I go to Paris or London most of the time, but Los Angelos has some great boutiques. My favorite shoemaker is in Germany. Is that the kind of answer you’re looking for?” Moffer Bones asked.

I have to admit, at this point I was kind of drooling, imagining the kinds of shopping sprees he must have all over the world. Gosh, can you picture it? Ugh!

Moffer Bones could probably see how daydreamy I’d gotten, because he laughed again, and then he said, “You wanted to know when I started dressing as a human, though. My mom was pissed the freak off (but he said the real word, not freak) at the royal fairies for cursing her, so she chucked all her plans to raise me half as a fairy, and I’ve been in a blend of human and god fashion since I was born. So always, really, for me dressing as a human. Now what?”

He looked at me in this really eager way, and I was sure he was now waiting for me to announce that we could make out or something, but I was not prepared to say anything of the kind. I still wanted all my answers.

“Moffer, calm down. I want to talk for a few days and get everything straightened out in my head,” I said, and he took in this deep sigh and leaned back into the couch.

“Yeah, okay. What do you want to know next?” he asked. He didn’t seem too annoyed, honestly. I felt like he looked both amused and a little intrigued.

You’re reading Victor Poole, and I’ve been having a relaxing weekend. Ta!

Cover painting (unfinished) and more

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I’ve been in a conundrumy kind of spot for, like, ages now.

Oh, and look at the digital painting I’m working on. Up there. Or-bviously the figures aren’t put in yet fully, but the sky’s incredible, don’t you think? Also the ship. And the highlights on the sand-rock things.


Oh, right, the conundrum.

I articulated this issue once in a poem, which I subsequently (some time after I’d written it) destroyed in a fit of artistic grawr-upset. Anyway!

But the conundrum is that I’m actually quite good, when I let loose and, you know, make things. The issue is that I have to essentially block people off beforehand and create a, uhm, conducive environment towards acceptance and free-wheeling whatever-I-want first.

All of which

to say, my novel is going pretty well lately. Bwa-ha!


(Our fairy rebel is digging for details on how Moffer Bones dresses; he has just explained a bit of his family history as a preface, and asked her if she is keeping up all right so far. Enjoy!)

Moffer’s Wardrobe

“Yeah. So your grandfather was the King, and your mother should be Queen, but the royal family got angry and messed everything up while your mom and dad were on their honeymoon. What does that have to do with your clothes?” I asked.

Moffer laughed again.

“Well, give me a second and I’ll tell you. My mom was determined to make a good blend of fairy custom and my dad’s background, for how they were going to raise me, and she had a really fun time talking over how she would manage clothes. My mom cares a lot about fashion, and she’d told my dad all sorts of things about how she wanted to dress me.

“They got back here and mom was pregnant with me, and the royal family had a nasty, evil curse laid out that took hold as soon as my parents crossed the border, and so my mom and dad knew that she was going to be out of the picture as soon as I was born. The curse couldn’t be undone, and they were going to have to stay the course and work at breaking it much later on, so my mother, who was pretty upset at knowing she was going to miss my entire childhood, and babyhood, of course, went on a kind of shopping rampage and set up an enchanted chest, which she filled with clothes to last me from babyhood all the way to when she would hopefully be able to be brought back to life and be with me and dad again.

“The clothes you’re wearing right now are things I’ve gotten myself, so those aren’t mom-issue, because a whole lot of the clothes my mom made or bought for me are absurdly out of fashion now, but her things are what I wore growing up.

“We were hoping to break the curse within the first two hundred years, and I’ve saved all the clothes she got me, but—well, does that answer your question? I wore the clothes my mom planned out for me as a baby and a kid, and then when I was an adult I wore her things until they were massively out of fashion, and then I started buying my own stuff. I’m five hundred and thirty-six now, so I’ve been dressing myself for, like, three-hundred some-odd years. Is that what you wanted to know?” Moffer Bones asked.

You’re reading (and looking at!) Victor Poole, and in my current story, an environment for some captive animals is being gotten ready. You can get one of my stories here.

Studies of face shapes and ramblings (oh yes!)

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So hi.

Hello to you, Victor Poole!

I went to acting school, and it was simultaneously the stupidest and smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I mean, the program was utter rubbish, if you were looking at production quality, but at the same time, being exposed to a microcosm of failed professionals (many of whom had had exposure to a whole lot of legitimate work before, um, giving up) and a slew of eager to succeed young people created a really fascinating study of power dynamics, creative traps, and, uh, a wide and compelling plethora of ‘how not to do things in art.’

The vast majority of the teachers had no business teaching, but were valuable people to know as samples of humanity. The students were either really good or sort of blah, depending on which teachers they aligned with and copied the most.

And where am I going with this? Well, after I got out, I started producing. I didn’t want to. I kind of got strong-armed into the whole process, and I found out that I was really, excessively good at directing actors. Which, of course, you need to either get a Master’s for that or start doing indie film work like mad, if you want to be legitimate. Or found a local theatre company, or start doing the whole climbing the ladder of whatever acting community is nearby thing.

And I didn’t want to do that because the community was utterly toxic. So here I am, writing novels instead.

It’s kind of a day-by-day thing, whether or not I plan on getting back into it. I’m in the wrong stage of life for pouring myself into rehearsals and costume problems until two in the morning every night for weeks. Gosh, all that stuff is fun.

Everything comes back to people problems, though. I mean, you have to navigate the inevitable bad apples in the acting and production side of things, and that’s always messy, because the whole process is so intimate and relationship-based.

And then sometimes I’m all, ‘I should write original material and produce that,’ which would involve getting back into playwriting or screenwriting, which, again, is fun, but requires people once you start filming or doing live shows.

People, people, people.

I’ve kind of sworn off human beings until I get my previous damage completely under control. I’m totally getting there. The inflammation’s much smaller, in an emotional/spiritual sense.

Well, here’s some fairy tale!


(Our rebel fairy has enquired after Moffer Bones’ clothing, and Moffer has set in to answer. Enjoy!)

Some Family History

“Well, my mother—do you know anything about my mother? I’m getting the impression, on and off, that you’re in the dark about some things like this,” Moffer said, interrupting himself.

“I know that you have a mother. That is all that I am prepared to say,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster, and Moffer Bones laughed like I’d said something really funny and leaned back against the couch.

“All right. My mother is the rightful Fairy Queen. I doubt you’ll know this, as you’re so young and Amance is big on propaganda and rewriting history, but hundreds of years ago, the fairy kingdom was run in a much steadier way. There wasn’t any taking turns between the monarchs, and inheritance went in a calm, stable line stretching back to the beginning of creation, eldest to eldest. My mother should be the Queen right now, but the whole royal family got into an absolute snit when she threw over her intended suitor and chose my father instead. Royal fairies are bred deliberately to preserve family power. Did you know that?” Moffer Bones asked.

I hadn’t known that, and I told him so.

“Good, well. My mother was slated to match with this bloke called Neevil, who’s dead now, and she had zero interest and chose my dad. The royal family couldn’t do anything about it at the time because my mother’s father, the Fairy King at the time, was a solid guy who was going to accept the alliance and make my dad part of the family. Well, the rest of the royal family were in hysterics over an elder god coming into the family and disrupting the unbroken chain of fairy-bred royalty, and so they ganged together and made a conspiracy. My mother went off with my father on a wedding journey, and once they were both out of the way, the rest of the royal family trapped and murdered the Fairy King, and then anointed his cousin, Joop, King in his place, and Joop is Amance and Zaepho’s father. Are you following this okay?” Moffer Bones asked.

You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current novel, someone just got home from a big hunt and is very happy to see his family again.

Ah, Weekend!

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(Moffer Bones has agreed to answer our rebel fairy’s questions. Proceed!)

The Really Important Questions

Moffer Bones had asked me where I wanted him to start, and I took a moment to really think about what I wanted, because this was my big chance, you know? I decided I wanted to basically start at the top of this whole misadventure and comb through what had happened to find the parts that hadn’t made sense to me.

I wanted a big host of answers about all that, for everything Moffer Bones would be able to tell me (because I was pretty sure he knew a whole bunch of things I didn’t when it came to Amance’s MO for tricking people, and he’d know more about my heritage, I was sure, with this whole my-mother-being-a-flower nonsense).

So like I said, I wanted to start with my adventure and get that all straightened out and clarified in my mind, and then I wanted to ask him a bunch of questions about his situation and the overall circumstances in the forest, with all this god-involved drama. That was my plan!

So I got a kind of organized list started in my head, and then I said, “First, I want to know why you wear beautiful modern clothes while all the woodland fairies are in leaf frocks and grass or bark-sourced outfits. When did that start? And where do you do your shopping?”

I asked that, and Moffer Bones, he just stared at me for a long moment and burst out laughing. “What?” I asked, and I sounded kind of defensive.

“You—we’re in the middle of a war for control of the fairy kingdom, and your wings are at stake together with all your power, and potentially your very life, and you want to know where I get my clothes?!” Moffer Bones demanded, still laughing a good bit.

It was clear, from the way that he was talking, that he expected me to snap out of whatever silliness he felt I was under and come to my senses in order to have some kind of super staid battle conference, but I was like, pfft. I’ve had enough of that nonsense for the last week, and I wanted to find out the really important stuff, like where Moffer got the money to buy the incredibly hot outfits I’d seen him wearing so far, as well as the hoodie and jeans he’d let me have (which were, like, the perfect hoodie and jeans—I was soo in love with these clothes).

So I said, “Yes, I want to know where you shop, and when did you start dressing normally, like a human, I mean, and did you wear leaf outfits before that? When did you get fashionable, or were you always dressed well?”

Moffer Bones just stared at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if I had all my marbles, and then he made this kind of shrug and a face that said to me, ‘hey, why not?’, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to answer me.

You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my current story, an old man is making a new friend.