I believe in faeries. I always have. They really do exist, but not in our dimension. They live in the fourth dimension, the one right above ours, vibrating at a higher frequency, which is beyond our five senses and is the reason why very few of us can see them. I have never seen one myself but I know of two people personally that did. I can sense when they are around though, especially in the woods. I will suddenly get the feeling that something is near, and then turn to look, finding an unspoiled patch of greenery or a tangle of bracken and bramble, artfully designed by the Green Race. I just KNOW they are there, probably dancing around me with delight, holding their sides in laughter (they do love to play pranks).
There have been numerous accounts of people actually seeing, speaking and working with faeries. The Elves of Lilly Hill Farm is an excellent book for those who have an interest in this topic or you might want to look up the Findhorn Garden (very cool stuff). Faeries, elves and the elementals help the earth in numerous ways and are responsible for maintaining the health and welfare of the plant kingdom as well as animals.
My novel, Oghalon Chronicles (working title) is a fantasy in which twins are caught up in a tale of magic, betrayal and intrigue. The eleven-year old protagonist ends up in an alternate reality—the Faery kingdom, but with my own brand of twist, of course. It has to be unique in some way or what publisher will want to hand me a contract? I’m in the latter stages of the rewriting phase now, but along the way I’ve discovered that I get easily distracted or influenced by the outside world.
For instance, I had long ago decided to make elves and the faery folk a main fixture in my story, but with some recent articles that I read about making stories unique, I decided to change my elves into another race with loopy ears. I even came up with a new name for the race and had taken out all references with elves from the entire story. I thought that I was being quite clever indeed but I ended up sailing right into a fog. By doing this one thing my story started falling apart but I didn’t want to admit it at first. The truth was that my plot no longer had a taproot buried deep in the earth, and because of that, I no longer felt grounded. I had lost touch with my story, my muse, the very reason for telling it in the first place.
It was my son that had gotten me out of the fog that I was swimming in and back on terra firma. I had asked him if he thought that elves were old news. He didn’t think so, and then he said. “Mom, how many books on vampires are out there? People keep buying them and writers keep writing them.”
True that. I thought the genre would have died after Ann Rice penned Interview with a Vampire (one of the best books on vampires ever written). Not so. In fact, a small cottage industry has risen up around vampires. Look at all of the YA novels, movies, and fans that are immersed in the blood hungry critters.
LESSON #528: I had listened to other people’s opinions and allowed that to influence my story when it wasn’t even finished yet. I won’t be doing that again! Lesson learned. The faeries are here to stay.