What is up

How’s it going? Hope you’ve gotten to enjoy some fresh air lately. Autumn is here, which is deeply pleasing to my senses.

I just wanted to have a quick chat [Ed: it’s not that quick] about what I’m currently working on, both because it may be of interest to anyone reading and it will hopefully encourage me to put some real time into it. The thing about writing is for something I love and attach much of my self-worth to, I am also excellent at complaining about it and not doing it. Don’t ask. I cannot explain it.

I’m still shopping around novel 2. Still debating whether a novel 3 is worth my time and emotional energy if 2 also crashes and burns. I’ve queried 37 agents so far, which is not the end. But certainly not the beginning, either.

In the meantime, in fits and spurts, I’ve been cobbling together an old story idea that is not an appropriate fit whatsoever for the publishing world, which in many ways is the perfect antidote to my lack of publishing success. I don’t have to waste anyone’s time, including my own, and I can do whatever I want without ever having to worry about what an agent or publisher may think about it. It’s all got a bit of a getting-back-to-nature vibe. Potentially a licking-my-wounds vibe. But back-to-nature reads better.

Years ago, while I was still in fandom, I thought it may be fun to challenge myself to write tropes I either hadn’t written before or outright didn’t like. You can see me dipping my toes into these concepts near the end of my time in Wangxian fandom, whether it was a/b/o-lite f/f erotica or action/adventure modern AU (on a train!). Nothing earth shattering, but I enjoyed the brain-stretch of writing a/b/o (which I never much cared for) and action/adventure (which I like, but never got around to until then) and turning those tropes/genres into something that worked for me and my writing style.

Very close behind a/b/o in the realm of tropes I greatly disliked was the somewhat unholy trio of royalty, medieval/fantasy settings, and to a lesser extent, mistaken identity (always just so convoluted, where’s the plausible deniability?!). Royalty AUs always gave me the heebie jeebies. I understand the wealth and palace-intrigue fantasies, but I could never fully square that with my blanket distaste for the concept of monarchies as a whole. Especially coming from fandom world, which largely considers itself left-leaning and anti-capitalist, except when the royals doing the boning are starcrossed men, apparently. As for medieval settings, I don’t really have a reason for my dislike of them beyond the fact that classic western fantasy as a genre is not very interesting to me. Yes, I’ve read Priory of the Orange Tree. No, it did not turn me onto the genre as a whole. As I declared at the time of finishing Priory, if that one couldn’t turn me (because apparently that was the one that would turn me), then nothing would, and that’s fine. Not every genre is for every person. And when it came to mistaken identity narratives, well, sorry, but I generally didn’t think they were worth my time. I’m also not a love triangle person, so I did not care for that aspect of the trope, even when the whole point is that points two and three of the triangle were the same point all along. I just don’t think I ever had much faith in the stories that utilized this trope as being… good. There isn’t really a way I can both be truthful and not-rude about this opinion, so let’s just leave it there.

Obligatory disclaimer that if you like any of the above tropes, that’s fine. I don’t care, nor do I want you to feel upset or like you have to defend your enjoyment of them. Nor do I think you’re a bad or morally compromised person if you like these tropes. I feel silly having to say this but the fandom etiquette imps that still live in my brain are holding me at gunpoint lest I fail to adequately prostrate myself over my potentially sacrilegious opinions on what is or is not a good storytelling trope.

That being disclaimed, the whole point of airing my grievances with these tropes is to then turn around and say I wanted to write a story that included as many of them as possible, for little more than a fun thought exercise.

And thus, as I left fanfiction behind and ventured out into the world of original fiction… the medieval royalty mistaken identity lesbian psycho-erotica travelogue sex romp was born. Working title.

You may note I added some additional descriptors into the medieval/royalty/mistaken identity soup there. That’s because I wanted to.

Here’s the lowdown. Not much is planned out beyond harebrainedness and a very general aim of writing a meandering pastoral travelogue masquerading as a half-hearted murder mystery with the usual saltyfeathers trappings; that is, a fucked up sexual dynamic between the main pairing.

The protagonist, Mór, is a princess and only child of her parents, the Queen and King of Lupinshire who have just been violently murdered. Mór has spent her entire adult life and much of her teenaged years semi-locked away in a crumbling wing of the castle due to general family shame at how much she sucks for refusing a husband to produce heirs with. Unfortunately for her, she is also not very good looking, which wasn’t why she was locked away, but it certainly didn’t help; she is a tall, broad woman, not feminine, not pretty, not a rule follower or stickler (but not in any kind of interesting or rabblerousing way), not much to offer the world at all what with her refusing to spread her legs for a man. Objectively, her stature is actually very impressive as she is quite hardy for someone who is likely the product of generations of incest. Overall, Mór is a seemingly well adjusted person for all her mistreatment. In fact, she’s almost unnervingly laid back for someone whose life has turned out this way. So casual about her own imprisonment that she may as well have foisted it upon herself. It’s like, all copacetic, man.

When her parents are murdered, Mór decides that she will don her detective hat, venture out into a world of poverty and plague and horse shit lining the dirty streets of her kingdom and the lands beyond, and solve this most heinous crime. Most importantly, she will leave the castle and all her royal obligations far behind her while she investigates, so very hard. She’ll be right back to Queen it up, though. One little side quest and then her ass is back on that throne. Just you wait.

Mór is capable and adaptable, but she is not a detective by trade, so she enlists the help of an expert. This expert is a witch; a strange, mysterious, sullen woman who lives deep in the woods on the outskirts of Lupinshire. In a dilapidated, eerie cottage, Mór meets Aoife (ee-fuh). Aoife, in all her spiritual, swooning, conniving, all-knowing (and ill-lit) introductory glory, and through a deeply silly, contrived misunderstanding, thinks she has, in fact, ensnared a prince. Unfortunately, Mór is as I’ve described; tall and broad and short-of-hair, and as a result, and not for the first time in her life, been mistaken for a man. Woebegone the butches who need a spine and the witches who need glasses of yesteryear.

Usually, Mór being mistaken for a man is not a huge deal. She was often swathed in overlarge robes to conceal her royal identity when she would escape her confines while still living in the castle. No one who exchanged more than a handful of words with her would ever think her a man for long; it was only when they caught fleeting glimpses out of the corner of their eye of a statuesque human figure with short hair and an athletic build that the “Sir” slipped out, before an aggrieved silence and a hasty correction on their part, while Mór loomed on the spot like a slightly awkward tree about it.

Enter Aoife with bad eyes and too much mood lighting. Enter Aoife with low social skills and an overabundance of sketchy spell books written by pervs. Enter Aoife, impoverished and peculiar and intrigued by a visit from a royal seeking her wisdom, who proudly announces her price to assist this most handsome (I said she has bad eyes) prince with his quest to solve the mystery of who murdered his parents, apparently the most potent spell ingredient of all spell ingredients; HIS SEED.

Deeply seed-less Mór says, after saying nothing at all due to nonplussed shock: uh yeah sure. Thoust canst harvest every last morsel from my sacketh just as soon as you complete your end of the bargain.

And thus begins the true dance. Sure, it’s like, who murdered the Queen and King and what does that mean for the future of the medieval land of Lupinshire? But, much more interestingly, what the fuck is Aoife of the Deep Woods thinking? Does she actually believe Mór is a man? Surely, the second she catches Mór in the sunlight, or up close, the jig is up? Surely, once she spends more than ten seconds with her travel companion, she will catch on? Maybe feel a bit embarrassed, a bit chagrined, like those before her, but, like, she’ll get with the program? Surely, after Aoife sees how others interact with Mór? Surely, after they begin to grow close?

… after they kiss?

… after they fuck? Even if Mór never takes her clothes off?

Surely?

Mór can’t even disrobe in front of the woman she’s fucking for fear of shattering the gossamer illusion Aoife clings to, and yet, she can’t tell the woman she’s fucking to fuck off and get with the program, because then she wouldn’t be able to fuck her anymore, probably. What is Aoife’s deal, anyway? Maybe we’ll find out. Then again, Mór’s chill, dude. She don’t care about much at all. Visit whatever horrors you wish upon her; imprison her in her own home for years; attempt to marry her off and stuff her with children; she’ll take em on the chin, because, like, whatever. It’s all good. Nothing bothers Mór, definitely. She is just chilling so hard, while Aoife is just Aoife-ing so hard. Golly, what a contrived situation these women have gotten themselves into.

It’s a precarious position. For smashing together a number of tropes I don’t care for, I have still somehow managed to mold this narrative into something that, for better and for worse, is a resplendent example of the type of character dynamics and philosophical approach I tend to bring to my work. Stupid as it is. Fun as it is. Awkward and squeamish and cringeworthy as it is. Cathartic as it is? Fulfilling as it is? We’ll see.

Also, there will be much walking through moors. And fields. And woods. And taverns. And inns. And strange harvest festivals. And badly misappropriated folklore and landscapes combining the best of the Atlantic Canadian and UK persuasions. It really is meant to be a smorgasbord. One that I have every intention of savoring as I meander through with no real plans for structure or plotting, yet another unfamiliar writing element that is scary and alien to me. I’m not good at research and am unsure why I’ve done this to myself. Fun, right? I already said that. I already know this is going to be deeply ahistorical “history”. In Lupinshire, historical accuracy goes only as far as how tired I get of listening to period-accurate medieval string instrument compositions on YouTube on any given day.

I should be clear; I haven’t even met Aoife yet. The moment she walks onto the page, the entire trajectory of the story could change completely. Sometimes (oftentimes, at least for me) stories are like that. They are not living things, but you could fool yourself into thinking they were with how they grow and change unexpectedly.

I am considering a few things regarding this story. I am considering whether I should charge money to access it. I am considering whether it would be fun and/or beneficial to chronicle the writing of it with companion blog posts about where I’m at, how I’m strategizing, or if I’m just letting Jesus take the wheel for this particular chapter. I am considering channels beyond ao3, though I’m probably at about maximum exposure for my particular niche in the location I’m already in, and that exposure is approximately 4, so I may be considering too hard on this one.

I am excited to get to know Mór and Aoife. I’ve spent lots of time with them in my head, and I look forward to meeting them on the page (and them meeting each other) as well. Oh yeah, and they’ll solve a silly little murder mystery while they’re at it. Maybe.

Hope I actually write this story now that I’ve talked it up! How embarrassing would it be if I didn’t. Future me is trembling at the thought of what past me has gotten her into.