The Amethyst Dragon Series
Pixie Dust tour
Pixie Dust
blurb:
In the shadowy recesses of Orbis Alia, Avalon's darkest
realm, the Winter Dragon weaves his intricate, evil spell like a spider web;
delicately poised to ensnare his prey once and for all.
Yet somewhere in the land of Tir na nog, Dade Blue-Therror fights back with magic if his own. The crown prince of the Seelie Court will not lose his Chuisle, Shelby, to the madness of his greatest foe.
The battle of good versus evil is about to begin. Father against son, brother against brother. And for Dademond, the stakes have never been higher.
Yet somewhere in the land of Tir na nog, Dade Blue-Therror fights back with magic if his own. The crown prince of the Seelie Court will not lose his Chuisle, Shelby, to the madness of his greatest foe.
The battle of good versus evil is about to begin. Father against son, brother against brother. And for Dademond, the stakes have never been higher.
1) what inspired the series but also what drove Pixie Dust?
The Amethyst Dragon series was actually
inspired by a set of faery art tarot cards I bought. There was one card
in particular that inspired the character we now call Tryamon - she was
the first. Before I knew it, two hours and a LOT of scribbling later I
had the groundwork for what would be the plot line for Dragon Wings.
Pixie Dust itself is simply an extension or
continuation of what is the entire story of Dade Blue-Therror, the
Amethyst Dragon, and his Chuisle Shelby. The driving force behind book
two is that emphasis on the classic conflict of good versus evil - AND
the theory that deep down, we're all basically good people.
2) with so many plot twists was it hard to keep the story straight or would it veer off?
The majority of the series has been plotted
out from the beginning. I have tons of post-its and papers with my
guidelines scattered across my desk to keep me straight. These
characters essentially live inside my mind, so I know them inside and
out. It's pretty easy to keep it straight, but sometimes I do think of
new ideas I want to incorporate. THAT'S when the compartmentalizing and
cutting begins, hahaha!
3) do you listen to music when you write? If so what inspired Pixie Dust for you?
Music is a MUST for me when I write! The
Script is a huge part of the series for me - their music really speaks
to me, and the situations my characters find themselves in. The Man Who
Can't Be Moved, for example, truly speaks of Dade's determination in
Pixie Dust to be with Shelby against all odds. Then we have Operation
Mindcrime by Queensryche, which fueled a lot of Leo's scenes.
All in all, my musical tastes are pretty
broad, so I tend to listen to songs that fit the mood of the scene I'm
writing at the time.
4) the end was a mind blower. Did it upset you to write it the way it upset me to read it?
Hahaha! Well, without risking a spoiler, it's
always hard to put a character "through the grinder." They're friends,
children and family to me, and while it can be really difficult to
strike those computer keys and put their fate into motion, I comfort
myself with the fact that it makes for damn good reading. AND I can
always, as the author, write whatever surprises and changes I see fit in
later installments... ;)
Then there are those moments, too, that my
friend Julie Kagawa and I agree on: sometimes it is just wicked fun to
play God with a character and totally wreck their lives. Hehe! ;)
5) finally, what advice would you give future or aspiring authors?
I had a professor in college who gave the
best advice I can ever pass on: "Write. Always." No matter what you're
doing, find the story in it. Take some time later and write it down.
Take notes when something inspires you, or speak it onto a recorder for
later review. Stories are all around us. It's up to us to breathe life
into them for the world to enjoy. :)
PS - Want to see the picture that started it
all and inspired the character of Tryamon? Visit me on Twiiter - I've
posted the actual card there! Come see me at @authordcgrace - thanks for
having me! <3
Author Bio:
D.C. has studied various Native American
cultures for well over twenty years. She has three daughters. The girls, being
half Chiricahua Apache and Cherokee respectively, have been raised to know as
much about their heritage as possible. D.C. has also been fascinated with all
things supernatural since childhood. She wrote her first vampire story at the
ripe old age of nine.When she's not trying out a new recipe or digging into a good book, D.C. can be found driving her daughters around town in her Mom Cab.
D.C. lives just outside Louisville, KY. She shares a home with her girls, three crazy kitties, and a neurotic Chihuahua. She considers herself lucky they all let her live with them.
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A Special Quote:
Night had already fallen when I reached Mag Mell and I was grateful
for the cloak of darkness. In need of a bath and wearing tattered,
filthy clothes, I looked a fright, but I pushed forward. None would
recognize me as I was, and that was a good thing. So as light from a
tiny village grew closer, I kept my head down and made my way toward a
quaint mercantile still open for business.
The shopkeeper kept a curious eye on me as I perused the little
shop, mindful of where I put my dirty hands. I was careful to keep my
magic muted against the prying of the fall clan curator so as not to be
recognized. It was a risky thing I was doing, but no one would stop me.
Not meeting his gaze, I held up a long, hooded russet cloak.
“How much, sir?” I asked.
“More than the likes of ye can afford, not doubt,” came his gruff reply. “Don’t be wasting me time, lad, I be closing up soon.”
“How much, sir?” I asked again, tempering my frustration.
The pixie man let go a long, weary sigh before answering. “Fifty shilling and not a half-pence less. Now off with ye.”
Reaching
inside the coin pouch at my hip, I pulled forth a large, silver coin
worth almost twice the amount. It sang with a metallic clink as I
flicked it across the shop and into the surprised man’s hand. Without
another word, I pulled the cloak from the rack and tied it around my
neck.
“Apologies, my good man,” the shopkeeper stammered. “Let me count thy change.”
“No need,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “Good evening.”
Pulling
the hood up over my head, I could feel his eyes still fixed on me,
curious to know who I was. Without a backward glance, I made my way out
of the modest shop and slipped into the shadows.
The cloak fluttered around my legs as a chill wind swept across the
landscape of Mag Mell. Like Tir na nog existed in eternal springtime,
so the home of the fall clans reigned in endless autumn. Leaves of gold,
red and amber crunched beneath my feet as I moved along the edge of the
village, surreptitiously avoiding passersby. No one need know my
purpose for traversing the near three day walk into the land of the
Orange and Yellow clans...
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