As an author, I believe I view the world a little differently to most people. I tend to imagine scenes for stories. I love walking beside the Pacific Ocean and gain most of my inspiration from the wonderful atmosphere in my cosmopolitan city. When people think of the beach, most would imagine blue sky, sand, and waves. For me the retreating waves leave a glimmer of gold in their wake and rainbows in the bubbles of wash. I absorb ambience from the surfer riding the crest of a wave to the seagull hovering on an updraft of air. I believe most authors collect and store such images deep inside their subconscious.
I have no doubt an active imagination begins in childhood. I delve into my childhood memories many times during the creation of a story. Those images never leave us, or those wonderful times when we truly believed in magic. The tales of Tinkerbelle and Santa Claus remain hidden in a secret place of make believe in my mind.
I am sure if one hundred people were given the questions “Do you in believed in fairies and magic or do warlocks and witches really exist?” I think the result would be a surprise. I sure do . . . come on now ' fess up . . . do you believe?
My mother wasn’t with me for very long but I still treasure her wonderful bedtime stories. If ever I fell ill, she would send me little handmade cards signed 'Faerie Blue Eyes.' My fondest memory is of pushing a doll's pram around the garden at about three years old. We lived in a Victorian three-story house and the grounds had many pathways weaving throughout the rose gardens. Toward the back fence, blackberry bushes sat in clumps with spiky tendrils waiting to snag my clothes or pull my hair as I passed by. Beneath the ancient oak trees, acorns littered the ground and pointed brown toadstools surrounded patches of bright, green moss.
My mother would put on a serious expression and insist I should never to touch the toadstools because I would disturb the fairies. She told me the circle (of dangerously poisonous fungi) was a fairy circle and on every full moon, the fairies would come out to dance.
I could see the fairies in my mind’s eye and would walk by, then pause and look over my shoulder, in the hope of glimpsing an ethereal being. At night, I would slip out of bed and press my nose to the windowpane to peer at the garden.
Nighttime offers another pallet for my imagination. Moonlight diffuses colors to every shade of gray. Long shadows change familiar rose bushes to gargoyles and with each passing breeze, they move ready to pounce. Trees charred by night, reach up to the sky waving in silent devotion. The sounds of insects echo through the stillness, or could that be the sweet voices of faerie song? An owl hoots, and then appears, wings spread wide against the full moon. Across the lawn, moonbeams bathe the grass transforming each drop of dew into a myriad of diamonds. Is it any wonder the fairies dance at night?
Magic, warlocks, witches and fairies have so many wonderful stories to tell. I mean, who wouldn’t want to fall in love with a deliciously handsome warlock or be taken to another dimension by a magical being?
I enjoy writing about all things magical and now I can share my stories with my readers, I love it even more.
Elizabeth M Darcy
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How I Dumped My Demon
By Elizabeth M. Darcy
Blurb: Abandoned by her mother at a police station, Megan Stonebridge has no idea who she is or why a demon haunts her nightmares. When the dreams become a frightening reality, she questions her sanity.
Putting her faith in a locket inscribed with ancient runes left with her by her mother, Megan must unlock the meaning of the runes before the demon drags her into the underworld. In fear for her life, Megan unknowingly casts a spell that summons a handsome warlock to help her dump her demon.
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Amazon Bookstrand ARe
Born in London, England and now living in Australia, Elizabeth enjoys the thrill of writing YA romance and loves all things magical. She has a passion for history and her sweet historical romance stories are drawn from the history of her heritage to bring readers the delightful imagery of life and love through time. From Norman Knights to Scottish Highlanders and English rakes, Elizabeth creates stories that will remain with the reader long after the final page.
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