For may years I was an avid attendee of Science Fiction and Fantasy conventions, from Anaheim to Pasadena...even to driving from Los Angeles to Las Vegas for one which had been advertised in a magazine and turned out to have been cancelled, I marvelled at the creativity of not just the fans, but the guests of the conventions... authors, special effects designers, directors, prop makers, budding filmmakers...all of them amazed me with their talents and their insights.
There was one year I recall when a Creation Con had called for a costume contest, and I responded by making garb for myself, my husband Jay and our friend Jim to go as three Klingons in rehearsal for Macbeth. Under the watchful eye of the judges, including Star Trek: Deep Space Nine actor Rene Aubergenois, we found ourselves the winners and shared the myriad prizes between ourselves and a talented young woman named Kelly who had made the Klingon heads for us.
Little could I have expected that after all the Equicons, Loscons and Creation Cons I would one day be asked to be a speaker at one myself.
Tomorrow, Friday, November 25, I will be doing two panels at Loscon 38, the first, at noon, on the subject of the influence of Celtic mythology on modern fantasy and science fiction, and the second, around 8:30PM, on the transformation of the Vampire from Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to the creatures envisioned by today's authors. I will also be signing all 6 of my novels during the balance of the day and most of Saturday and Sunday.
I am absolutely thrilled with this opportunity and hope to see some of my good friends there.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The Rose Above The Sword
I have been asked by several people to say something about my newest novel, "The Rose Above The Sword", Volume IV of The Glastonbury Chronicles. The title itself refers to many things, from the Order of the Sword and the Rose to the symbolism carried by the Order.
The rose has long been the symbol of secrecy. The phrase sub rosa which means that something should be kept secret literally translates as "under the rose" and in early days was indicated by a rose being brought into a secret meeting to warn the participants that anything said there was strictly confidential. It has been used this way through the centuries in various art forms and by such groups as the Rosicrucians, both modern and ancient.
The very fact that the rose id placed at the crosspiece of the sword is symbolic in more than one way. It signifies that the sword is to be kept secret (and hence the actions of the sword) and also is placed there as a symbol of the heart in relationship to the body of the sword.. Not only is the Order secret, but the knowledge of its true nature and the focus of its protection are also, in the long run, secret.
On a third level, the rose is the symbol of the feminine, placed over the masculine symbol of the sword. The rose was an ancient symbol of the Dark Goddess and therefore is a token of the hidden aspect of the feminine, in this case the fact that there was any female involvement in the Order.
When the outward signs of something that has been suppressed, in this case, both religion and the Monarchy (the rose and the sword once again) symbols are transmitted in even more abstract manner and both history and mythology are recorded in monuments, in the language of flowers and plants, and in the pictures on Tarot cards. Those who know what they are looking for will find them, right under the watchful but unseeing eyes of the oppressor.
The book is now out, and the first review is in:
http://www.examiner.com/books-in-los-angeles/a-new-tale-for-a-new-year
Enjoy!
The rose has long been the symbol of secrecy. The phrase sub rosa which means that something should be kept secret literally translates as "under the rose" and in early days was indicated by a rose being brought into a secret meeting to warn the participants that anything said there was strictly confidential. It has been used this way through the centuries in various art forms and by such groups as the Rosicrucians, both modern and ancient.
The very fact that the rose id placed at the crosspiece of the sword is symbolic in more than one way. It signifies that the sword is to be kept secret (and hence the actions of the sword) and also is placed there as a symbol of the heart in relationship to the body of the sword.. Not only is the Order secret, but the knowledge of its true nature and the focus of its protection are also, in the long run, secret.
On a third level, the rose is the symbol of the feminine, placed over the masculine symbol of the sword. The rose was an ancient symbol of the Dark Goddess and therefore is a token of the hidden aspect of the feminine, in this case the fact that there was any female involvement in the Order.
When the outward signs of something that has been suppressed, in this case, both religion and the Monarchy (the rose and the sword once again) symbols are transmitted in even more abstract manner and both history and mythology are recorded in monuments, in the language of flowers and plants, and in the pictures on Tarot cards. Those who know what they are looking for will find them, right under the watchful but unseeing eyes of the oppressor.
The book is now out, and the first review is in:
http://www.examiner.com/books-in-los-angeles/a-new-tale-for-a-new-year
Enjoy!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Myth and Mystery
There is something in the psyche of mankind which needs a good mystery. I'm not referring to the Agatha Christie variety, or even the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, both of whom had personal mysteries of their own, but mystery as in the Eleusian Mysteries...symbols and mythos which resonate within the unconscious minds of humanity and reverberate within our souls.
Mankind has existed long before the concept of monotheism, its group mind nourished by images of Demigods and Heroes, and as the late, great Joseph Campbell discussed so eloquently, the pattern of the Hero's Journey which is common to the mythology of all from Perseus and Heracles or Hercules of the Greeks and Romans to Cuchulainn of the Irish Celts. All of them had a God for a father and a mortal mother.
With the coming of Christianity, Jesus, (with God as a father and the mortal Mary as a mother) became in a monotheistic belief system, the only Hero, and the mythos attributed to him took on a very narrow, totally religious and non-secularly heroic aspect. The normal needs and wants of the psyche of the societies involved in this relatively new religion (in the scope of the history of mankind) were put on hold, replaced with the acts of apostles and the works of saints, not necessarily figures of action.
Somewhere along the way the needs of the group mind reached out and called for the Hero or Superhero once more, and Fantasy and Science Fiction became the mythos of the New Age. We had Superman, only surviving son of a lost civilisation who became the protector of humanity, Luke Skywalker, orphaned child of dubious lineage who wielded, like one of the Celtic Gods, a sword of light against evil, and all the other heroes from Aragorn to Wonder Woman who have stood up for humanity against the forces of Evil.
Somewhere in my deepest heart of heart it all resonated as well. Somewhere the concept of the Sacred King, old before ever the historical Jesus walked this Earth, before ever that Sacred King had died for the good of all, the original concept of a Sacred King who shed his life's blood so the Land might live, that archetype that came again in King Arthur with the concept that "The King and the Land are One" struck me somewhere deep within my soul. The seeds of The Glastonbury Chronicles were sown. Somewhere over the last eighteen years they have borne fruit, and continue to grow.
The mythology I write is not new. It is based on all that which has come before, brought once again into the present and the future in hopes that, as Joseph Campbell might have said, others may "find their bliss."
I know writing it has given me a chance to find mine.
Mankind has existed long before the concept of monotheism, its group mind nourished by images of Demigods and Heroes, and as the late, great Joseph Campbell discussed so eloquently, the pattern of the Hero's Journey which is common to the mythology of all from Perseus and Heracles or Hercules of the Greeks and Romans to Cuchulainn of the Irish Celts. All of them had a God for a father and a mortal mother.
With the coming of Christianity, Jesus, (with God as a father and the mortal Mary as a mother) became in a monotheistic belief system, the only Hero, and the mythos attributed to him took on a very narrow, totally religious and non-secularly heroic aspect. The normal needs and wants of the psyche of the societies involved in this relatively new religion (in the scope of the history of mankind) were put on hold, replaced with the acts of apostles and the works of saints, not necessarily figures of action.
Somewhere along the way the needs of the group mind reached out and called for the Hero or Superhero once more, and Fantasy and Science Fiction became the mythos of the New Age. We had Superman, only surviving son of a lost civilisation who became the protector of humanity, Luke Skywalker, orphaned child of dubious lineage who wielded, like one of the Celtic Gods, a sword of light against evil, and all the other heroes from Aragorn to Wonder Woman who have stood up for humanity against the forces of Evil.
Somewhere in my deepest heart of heart it all resonated as well. Somewhere the concept of the Sacred King, old before ever the historical Jesus walked this Earth, before ever that Sacred King had died for the good of all, the original concept of a Sacred King who shed his life's blood so the Land might live, that archetype that came again in King Arthur with the concept that "The King and the Land are One" struck me somewhere deep within my soul. The seeds of The Glastonbury Chronicles were sown. Somewhere over the last eighteen years they have borne fruit, and continue to grow.
The mythology I write is not new. It is based on all that which has come before, brought once again into the present and the future in hopes that, as Joseph Campbell might have said, others may "find their bliss."
I know writing it has given me a chance to find mine.
Friday, October 7, 2011
What's In A Name?
At about 4 AM today the Muse came back from whatever holiday Muses go on and informed me that I needed to get up and work on the book, A wonderful idea, I thought at the time, little realising that by 8 AM I would be sorely missing the 3 hours of sleep I had sacrificed for so noble a cause, but then that's what I write about...sacrifice, though in this case, with the day I am facing, I would have rather parted with blood.
Did the Muse dictate to me wonderful words of inspiration? No, What I got in stead was a reprimand for choosing a name for one of my characters which I had used for another character in the previous book.
"But that;s what he told me his name was," I protested sleepily as I opened the first chapter and set up the command to find and replace his name.
"You obviously were not listening well. His name is not Gavin, It is Gareth."
So Gavin became Gareth in all 31 chapters I had written to date and the whole experience set me to worrying about the fact that his lady love is named Gwyneth and the similarity of the names which might cause confusion in the reader,
"Balderdash!: said the Muse, or something to that effect, "Good Welsh name. Lots of "th" sounds in Welsh names. Now get some rest. You will be needing it."
In the background I heard the radio alarm clock going off and knew it was too late to do more ta do more than pop a handful of dark chocolate covered espresso beans into my mouth and hope for the best.
"Nine tanna leaves to give it motion," came the memory of a line from "The Mummy", unbidden into the embers of consciousness I needed to fan into a bright enough fire to get me through the day.
Nine tanna leaves and a cup of good, strong tea.
I may not be awake, but at least I am civilised.
Did the Muse dictate to me wonderful words of inspiration? No, What I got in stead was a reprimand for choosing a name for one of my characters which I had used for another character in the previous book.
"But that;s what he told me his name was," I protested sleepily as I opened the first chapter and set up the command to find and replace his name.
"You obviously were not listening well. His name is not Gavin, It is Gareth."
So Gavin became Gareth in all 31 chapters I had written to date and the whole experience set me to worrying about the fact that his lady love is named Gwyneth and the similarity of the names which might cause confusion in the reader,
"Balderdash!: said the Muse, or something to that effect, "Good Welsh name. Lots of "th" sounds in Welsh names. Now get some rest. You will be needing it."
In the background I heard the radio alarm clock going off and knew it was too late to do more ta do more than pop a handful of dark chocolate covered espresso beans into my mouth and hope for the best.
"Nine tanna leaves to give it motion," came the memory of a line from "The Mummy", unbidden into the embers of consciousness I needed to fan into a bright enough fire to get me through the day.
Nine tanna leaves and a cup of good, strong tea.
I may not be awake, but at least I am civilised.
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Word Is My Oyster
These days it seems that the business of being an author is more exhausting than the act of writing. Keeping up a blog (which I apologise for have been very lax at writing recently), dealing with the taxes and licences necessary to run a business...and oh yes...being an author is considered running a business...and all the other mundane concerns have infringed upon my precious time of actual creativity. Left brain paperwork and right brain storytelling do not necessarily go hand in hand, and even this Gemini is sometimes getting whiplash from changing hats so often.
The West Hollywood Book Fair is coming up 2 October, and I will be doing a reading in the morning and signing books till early afternoon. So far, so good. It is not, however, solely about the reading and the signing, but about all the preparations which go before the actual event. New head shots; the old one was in black and white and colour was preferred. Bookmarks...I know I didn't order enough. Even the silly little annoyance of trying to find the little adhesive-backed pieces that transform a photograph and biography sheet into a stand-up, only to discover they need to be ordered in quantities of over a hundred and even then the company won't ship unless a minimum dollar amount is met, and they won't guarantee delivery in time to meet my deadline.. Fortunately I have a creative husband who was able to make them...probably not as pretty, but hey...who's going to look behind the stand-up to see?
And now comes the worry...will the books, ordered in what should have been ample time...get here by the end of September? I can always pass out business cards, but it's not exactly the same thing. Will the weather hold? Early October in Southern California can range from triple digits to poring rain, and this event is outside.
Yes...everything will come together all right. Yes, the event will be a great success. Those wonderful people at the Greater Los Angeles Writers Society and the Chamber of Commerce of West Hollywood have a track record with this event, and I should just relax and sit back and do what I do best...write fiction. However....
I tend to write scenarios of disaster and death, of unexpected revolutions and battles of historical proportions. I tend to expect the unexpected and imagine "What if...?" in a myriad of timelines and possibilities. It is all fantasy and I can control it all with the flick of a delete key and the tapping of my fingers upon the white letters set into the blackness of my laptop computer. The word is my oyster and I can open it and pull forth a string of pearls if my imagination so dictates.
This is life, real life,
Sigh.
The West Hollywood Book Fair is coming up 2 October, and I will be doing a reading in the morning and signing books till early afternoon. So far, so good. It is not, however, solely about the reading and the signing, but about all the preparations which go before the actual event. New head shots; the old one was in black and white and colour was preferred. Bookmarks...I know I didn't order enough. Even the silly little annoyance of trying to find the little adhesive-backed pieces that transform a photograph and biography sheet into a stand-up, only to discover they need to be ordered in quantities of over a hundred and even then the company won't ship unless a minimum dollar amount is met, and they won't guarantee delivery in time to meet my deadline.. Fortunately I have a creative husband who was able to make them...probably not as pretty, but hey...who's going to look behind the stand-up to see?
And now comes the worry...will the books, ordered in what should have been ample time...get here by the end of September? I can always pass out business cards, but it's not exactly the same thing. Will the weather hold? Early October in Southern California can range from triple digits to poring rain, and this event is outside.
Yes...everything will come together all right. Yes, the event will be a great success. Those wonderful people at the Greater Los Angeles Writers Society and the Chamber of Commerce of West Hollywood have a track record with this event, and I should just relax and sit back and do what I do best...write fiction. However....
I tend to write scenarios of disaster and death, of unexpected revolutions and battles of historical proportions. I tend to expect the unexpected and imagine "What if...?" in a myriad of timelines and possibilities. It is all fantasy and I can control it all with the flick of a delete key and the tapping of my fingers upon the white letters set into the blackness of my laptop computer. The word is my oyster and I can open it and pull forth a string of pearls if my imagination so dictates.
This is life, real life,
Sigh.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Straddling The Worlds
One thing which has always been easy for me is straddling the worlds. It could be because I'm a Gemini, or maybe just because I have been an avid daydreamer since my early days at school, eventually being encouraged by a wonderful teacher, James Thomas Michael McMahon, to write down my stories and chiding me when he knew I could do better. He was the man who made me re-think creativity and to listen to the little voices in my head when they wanted to tell their tales, to let the stories flow from them and tell them just as I heard them.
I must have been all of thirteen when that happened, and I quickly learned how to jump back and forth between what worlds were being born within my imagination and the questions the external voices of the teachers in the other classes were asking, and somehow never lost my place in either. It actually became easy to absorb history by adding new characters to events. I found the Middle Ages were especially good for this, for I had grown up with Robin Hood and that ilk and imagining castles, swords and bows and arrows was no stretch to an already fertile imagination.
The one place it did not work was math class. There was no way I could add or subtract anything from the dry theorems in geometry. Science was easier. In my chemistry class I began to experiment with the glass tubing and Bunsen burners and made some wonderfully twisty glass straws, which of course was not what I was supposed to be doing. Astronomy was like an old friend, especially when we began to study the constellations and got into the mythology behind the names they were given. I learned to play at being an ancient astronomer, connecting the dots and seeing the patterns the mind formed by so doing.
I have never forgotten that lesson. I try to connect the dots now with words instead of lines, picking up chance incidents in history and mythology and making a pattern out of them, seeing a picture that others have missed. I hope my readers can see it too, and will learn to straddle the worlds of what is and what may be with me.
If you are in the area of Burbank, California tomorrow (Saturday, July 30), I will be signing books at Dark Delicacies at 2PM. Here's a link to the information:
http://www.examiner.com/books-in-los-angeles/s-p-hendrick-review-signing-at-dark-delicacies-the-great-queen-s-hound?CID=examiner_alerts_article
Please stop by. I would love to meet you.
I must have been all of thirteen when that happened, and I quickly learned how to jump back and forth between what worlds were being born within my imagination and the questions the external voices of the teachers in the other classes were asking, and somehow never lost my place in either. It actually became easy to absorb history by adding new characters to events. I found the Middle Ages were especially good for this, for I had grown up with Robin Hood and that ilk and imagining castles, swords and bows and arrows was no stretch to an already fertile imagination.
The one place it did not work was math class. There was no way I could add or subtract anything from the dry theorems in geometry. Science was easier. In my chemistry class I began to experiment with the glass tubing and Bunsen burners and made some wonderfully twisty glass straws, which of course was not what I was supposed to be doing. Astronomy was like an old friend, especially when we began to study the constellations and got into the mythology behind the names they were given. I learned to play at being an ancient astronomer, connecting the dots and seeing the patterns the mind formed by so doing.
I have never forgotten that lesson. I try to connect the dots now with words instead of lines, picking up chance incidents in history and mythology and making a pattern out of them, seeing a picture that others have missed. I hope my readers can see it too, and will learn to straddle the worlds of what is and what may be with me.
If you are in the area of Burbank, California tomorrow (Saturday, July 30), I will be signing books at Dark Delicacies at 2PM. Here's a link to the information:
http://www.examiner.com/books-in-los-angeles/s-p-hendrick-review-signing-at-dark-delicacies-the-great-queen-s-hound?CID=examiner_alerts_article
Please stop by. I would love to meet you.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Quid Fiat Si...?
I asked my favourite Latin professor to translate my motto, "What If...?" into Latin for me. Quid Fiat Si...? (What would happen if...") was the answer.
What if...?
It's not only the premise of every book I have ever written, it is the premise behind every piece of fiction anyone has ever written. What if characters with certain backgrounds and certain characteristics were put together under a certain set of circumstances> What would they do? How would they interact? How would they change their own lives and the lives of those around them?
It's not just the basis of literature, but of all art and science. What would happen if two chemicals were combined? What would happen if certain chords were played in a certain order? What would happen if we put a space capsule with people in it atop a huge rocket and shot them off into space?
Two small but magical words, "What if...?"...two small words with a huge potential to launch the most wonderful of all vehicles, the human imagination.
The Latin translation of this motto may not have the grandeur of "Honi Soit Qui Mal y Pense", the motto of the Order of the Garter , but "Quid Fait Si...?" is enough of a motto for this author.
What if...?
It's not only the premise of every book I have ever written, it is the premise behind every piece of fiction anyone has ever written. What if characters with certain backgrounds and certain characteristics were put together under a certain set of circumstances> What would they do? How would they interact? How would they change their own lives and the lives of those around them?
It's not just the basis of literature, but of all art and science. What would happen if two chemicals were combined? What would happen if certain chords were played in a certain order? What would happen if we put a space capsule with people in it atop a huge rocket and shot them off into space?
Two small but magical words, "What if...?"...two small words with a huge potential to launch the most wonderful of all vehicles, the human imagination.
The Latin translation of this motto may not have the grandeur of "Honi Soit Qui Mal y Pense", the motto of the Order of the Garter , but "Quid Fait Si...?" is enough of a motto for this author.
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