On the Verge (A Charmed Life Book 1)
Read On the Verge (A Charmed Life Book 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Bonis
On The Verge
Book one of A Charmed Life
Joseph J. Bonis
Table of Contents
Here I was, all ready to publish my first book, looking through the 'to-do' list, and going through a checklist of stuff that books have. Suddenly I realized...
I forgot a forward.
I could skip the forward – lots of books don't even have one. And it's kind of a scary thing. When authors start talking about how they feel about things, sometimes that ends up really bad. I'd rather folks just read my book, and judged my stories on their own merit. But heck, I've said plenty of stupid things on the Internet before, and I'm sure that at some time, they'll all pop up out of context anyway. And in this on-line, socially-connected world, putting your stuff out there for the public to consume is more than just the story: it's about a relationship. There's a ton of creative sorts out there, all writing and drawing and sculpting and creating. Why should you read this book? It's about connecting. When I write and you read, then together, we make this a living world inside our imaginations. The story, the characters - they become more, and bigger, when they're shared as a community. And for that, I suppose I should share how this story came to be.
This is my first book, but it wasn't supposed to be.
It started with a love of reading that goes back before I can even remember, but I've been writing since middle school - those awkward, self-serving, self-insert stories that one makes at that age. My books never made it past a chapter or two - then I'd go back and re-read, and start over, because I knew I could do it better. I kept writing the same chapter over and over again dozens of times.
More importantly, I kept having ideas – notebooks full of them. I started noticing tropes before TV tropes was a thing – wanted to use them and avert them. A creepy enemy monster that looked like this. An honorable but not respected knight. A witch as a hero. Etc, etc, etc. Year after year, the ideas built up. Then the various stories started combining together into one epic story. I knew that this... this...
this
! This would be my masterpiece. My big epic tale. The one that would get me published.
I even knew how it would work. I'd start off with some short stories, and some novels. I'd get back a few rejection letters, and I'd go re-write it, and try again. And again. I'd build up hundreds of rejection letters before someone accepted it - then I'd go through all the legal stuff, I'd have a professional team of editors come back to me to demand changes, and I'd make those changes. I wouldn't be the author too popular to change his vision - I'd always listen to the editor. And then would come the day - I'd get a box on my front step, open it up, and inside would be two dozen hardcover books. I'd pass them out to friends and family; it'd be glorious.
And then I couldn't write it. I knew what the story needed to be – I'd traced out the arc, I had the bad guys, the good guys, the main events that they needed to get to. I knew what everyone had to say and do. I had lists of minor characters. Eventually, I even had a friend draw a map of it, on a grid, and plotted out the Epic Journey across the landscape. Even now, I have the post-it notes for the story arc across my wall. But I always fizzled out after two chapters, and would go back to start again. It wasn't working.
I kept starting up a lot of other stories in the meanwhile - none of them ever finishing. I got furthest on a wonderful urban fantasy detective story about this detective in Chicago who discovered a magical world... there was this weird drug that was giving normal people magical sight and minor abilities, made through a demon-summoning ritual... then someone handed me Jim Butcher's Storm Front, and I really couldn't use that story after that.
Finally, I determined my problem was that I kept trying to make my first draft also my last draft. I didn't need to write it perfect; I just needed to write
something
. This, combined with the fact that it was really hard finding anyone who would comment on my stories, led to me making an online pen name and blog. I had a goal: one random scene a day.
And the first day, I wrote a scene where a young lady in a dull cubical had to deal with the daily drudgery of idiots. And then the next day, she showed up again, and again. Then she had the cat - the mysterious cat I always wanted one of my protagonists to have. And then my old world bartender had himself a restaurant. And suddenly... someone was reading my stuff. Several someones. Total strangers, becoming friends.
I learned a lot about perception - people assumed a lot about me, from my writing. Little of it was accurate, but none of it was insulting. It was interesting to see how differently I was treated when people could only judge me based off of my words and not off of any category they might try to put me in. And I made new friends, who helped me be creative. We worked together to become more creative together.
And then suddenly... the book was done. My first book, and finished completely by accident. Sort of. Tracy was no longer 'on the verge' of this new world of hers - she was well and truly into it. I didn't quite know what to do with the story, now that it was done. I was still thinking that epic adventure was going to be my first book – plus, I'd written this online, and that is like poison to traditional publishing.
Life rarely works to our plans. So it took me a couple years to realize... hey. I
can
publish this. And in asking around as to how to actually do that, I got the big answer. You don't really publish the traditional way anymore. To do traditional publishing, you need an agent. To get a decent agent, you need to have a reputation. And to have a reputation, you need to self-publish. My whole dream of unboxing two dozen books from my publisher and passing them out to show how I had made it... was not quite going to work that way. So instead, I started looking at how to put it together myself.
I pulled out this old script and dusted it off. Printed it out, got myself a few red pens, and marked all over it. Paragraphs disappeared. Pages appeared out of nowhere. And grammar corrections everywhere. I knew editors – I handed it off to two of them for review.
Fifteen years ago, I met Heather Bruton at Gen Con. She had a portrait of Drizzt Do'Urden, and it was actually accurate. Black skin, white hair, looked young. All the covers had him with brown skin and looking old, and it was obvious the artists didn't know what a drow elf
was
other than that it had pointy ears. They heard 'black skin' and they thought 'African descent'. They heard 'white hair' and they thought 'elderly.' But not Heather. We got to talking about how the artist should read the book before doing the cover.
Fifteen years later, I got a hold of her, knowing that I wanted her to read my book and do my cover. And she remembered our conversation, and was not only willing but excited to take on the commission! She made mention - she was happy to see a female character that was a real female character, and not... she didn't know how to say it. What most male authors would do with a female character. I knew how to put it - as Aral Vorkosigan had said in Lois McMaster Bujold's works - she wasn't an 'imitation man'. Heather agreed. She also loved that there was such a variety of racial representatives there in the cast, and had I done that on purpose? I hadn't.
And here's where I finally realized why this was my first book. Because my writing isn't about happenings, or events. It's not about epic adventure - though that is a heck of a lot of fun to write. My writing is about characters, and all of these characters had walked up in my head and introduced themselves. They wrote themselves, and I'm just their chronicler.
And finally, they'll be able to live in the minds of people other than myself. I've had editors and authors and artists all reading my book, and family and friends, and complete and utter strangers who became friends, and a lot of those categories overlap. And I've gotten real honest-to-goodness feedback. And I thank all of them, so much, for encouraging me and making me want to write more, and more, until I could not stand it. Until I would wake up in the middle of the night just to get out a few pages because I was inspired in those moments of half-dream. I find it hard to take credit for this, what with how much help I've gotten from everyone.
It's taken a couple years just to get used to the idea of publishing. I went through a lot of issues that slowed things down – divorce, surgery, work problems. I'm terrified. But excited. And I'm already writing the second book for Tracy, so she can live on. I don't even know how to tell you all about the journey this book has been, and I desperately want it to be only the first book of many.
So I'll make you a deal. You read this book, share it with your friends and get them to buy it too, and I'll get you another one. You keep reading, and I'll keep writing. And how crazy will that be?
In some ways, this is the end of a journey - the end of this incredible process of escaping all those old ideas of what it means to become published, and just get it done. And in other ways, this is the start of a journey - to get this writing done reliably in a reasonable time frame. The start of being an author for real. The responsibility of getting these books out there for the readers.
Thank you to everyone who picks this book up and reads it. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you gave me a chance.
I would like to thank the arbitrary Julie and Brian "avwolf" for doing early editing on this, when it was just a daily exercise and not anywhere close to a book. Your feedback and advice was dearly needed.
I want to thank Tobi and Nikki for befriending me and driving me to always create, and encouraging me with their own flights of fancy and amazing artwork. You two are awesome, and wonderful friends.
I want to thank my best friend Brian, who always gave me a safe haven when I needed it, and listened to me even when I was babbling about stuff he didn't care about. Who always let me know that I was good enough to make it.
I want to thank Misti, Ben, Fred, Heather, Leigh, and Kaycee for beta-reading my book and giving me feedback and encouragement. I want to thank Kaycee again for being extra thorough, and Heather for giving life to Tracy and Nameless for the cover.
Tracy cut the engine and leaned back in the driver's seat with her eyes closed, letting out a soft little sigh. She didn't want to do this. Stalling for time, she pulled down the visor and flipped open the little vanity mirror, making sure everything was in place. As in place as it could be. Her dark hair was neat and tidy - the split ends and heat damage had been trimmed off so you wouldn't even notice it. Her skin still looked sunburned in patches, though, as if she'd fallen asleep in a tanning bed with only half its bulbs. A gauze square was taped to her cheek, and the pain in her back was returning as the painkillers were wearing off, mute testament to far more bandages hidden under her clothes. Worst, though, was the hollow look in her eyes, and she quickly flipped up the visor to get rid of having to look at that.
She sighed again. Well, waiting out here wasn't going to make it any better. Squaring her shoulders and straightening up, she stepped out and walked up to the tiny hospital, caught up in her own memories of the previous day. The waiting room was small, the air was stale, and the furniture was cracked and old. It was several minutes before an older gray-haired nurse wearing plain green scrubs approached from the back. She seemed distracted, her eyes half-closed sleepily, and her voice bland and bored. "Waddaya want?"
Tracy held up her bracelet, showing the charms. "I'm here to visit a patient."
The nurse's face immediately lost its dead look and she smiled brightly. "Ah, so you are! Just step through the door." She pressed a button and there was a loud buzz.
The facility was completely different past the front lobby: the halls were clean and white, and the real nurse's station was loaded with modern monitoring computers. Tracy got the room number and headed down the hall, not pausing for small talk like she usually would, too caught up in her own thoughts. She turned the corner and came face to face with three men.
"You!" cried one of them, and she jumped back, startled. Lightning erupted around his hands, and she instinctively reached out with her will, pulling up an aura of mist around her hands as she struck a defensive pose. Mist wisped from between her lips. All the fog was instantly gone from her head and she was trembling with the sudden rush of adrenaline. The lightning leaped towards her, and she caught it on the back of her hand, throwing it to the side to arc across the wall, sending up steam where it scorched through the patch of frost that had already gathered there.
She strengthened the mist around her hands, sending it out to strike at the other man, pulling ice from thin air around his wrists. Where was his focus? If she could get his focus away from him quickly, do something to distract the other two guys... the ice wasn't solidifying fast enough! The air was too dry!
"Gentles, please," said a cool, calm voice, as one of the other men reached out and set his hand on the first man's hand. At his touch, the lightning disappeared with a sharp retort. "Christopher, this is a hospital. You don't fight in a hospital."
"But – but, Sir! Why is she here? What if she-"
"Christopher, you're embarrassing me. You don't want to embarrass me, do you?"
The man immediately shrunk in on himself, stepping back. "No, Sir. Sorry, Sir."
"And apologize to Tracy. You did attack her."
"Um, yes. Sorry, Tracy. Won't happen again."
The man in charge turned towards Tracy with a charming smile on his face. Tall, dark haired, the perfect businessman with the perfect teeth.
"Pax," Tracy said coldly, keeping the protective mist around her hands.
"
Lord
Pax, Tracy. Never neglect the polite niceties; they're what separate us from beasts. Now, please. No fighting in a hospital. You should know better. It was self-defense in your case, of course, but now that the threat's over, you should really put away your magic."
Tracy knew he was right, but her heart was racing and her blood was rushing in her ears. She couldn't believe it was actually over that quickly, and she didn't trust Pax. “They're also what monsters hide behind, as they pretend to be civilized.”
He let out a soft 'tsk', shook his head sadly, and suddenly disappeared. "Tracy, you've never seen me at my full power," he said from right behind her.
She squeaked and spun around, her eyes wide. How... how had he moved so -
He disappeared again, and tapped her on the shoulder from behind once more. She spun around once more, leaping away from him.
"Not in a hospital, Tracy. Do, please, put away your magic. Or I shall have to take you out of the hospital. Enforcing the laws, you understand."
Tracy got herself under control and forced the mists to disappear. Obviously, she wouldn't be able to defend herself, anyway. She contented herself with glaring at him.
"Well, it seems we got off on the wrong foot, here. So, Tracy, I'll let you go on with your business, and we will go on with ours. Gentlemen, step lively." Paying her no more mind, Lord Pax walked by Tracy and headed on down the hall.
Tracy glared after him, noting as the first man - Christopher - turned around to glare back at her. Well, feeling's mutual, jerk. She sighed, covered her eyes with her hand, and took a few deep breaths to steady herself.
Control
. Then she moved onward.
The hospital room was dark, the lights turned down as far as hospital lights did - meaning still bright enough that there was little chance of bumping into anything important. He was asleep - thank goodness. There had to be some serious pain-killers in that IV. Tracy sat down next to the bed, hands in her lap, and looked over him while chewing on her lip.
"I... I'm sorry about all this," she finally said. "I know you can't hear me just now. I'll come back and say it again when you're awake. But..." She sighed. Over and over, she'd mentally rehearsed this, and even with him unconscious, she couldn't figure out what to say. She dropped her face into her hands. "It's so unreal. I mean, a little over a week ago, I didn't even know magic was real! I thought it was all stage tricks and movies and books. Whenever I wished for magic, I never thought it'd come along with... all this. The violence... people getting hurt... I mean, of course there's always a bad guy in the stories, but... you never think the bad guy part happens in real life. Not until it actually does." She shook her head. "Two weeks ago... I was just going out with my friends, and everything was normal. Now … I don't … I don't even know..."
