My
friend Puck tells me that he likes to "play
a game" with my books wherein he
sorts out what is true to lore & what
I made up & what I modified. I personally
find this fun too so I thought I'd talk
about that while I take my writing break
tonight . . . Only one topic at a time,
but I'll try to do more of these entries
astime goes forward.
Chatter on Cailleach
Ahead:
Beira:
She's
iinfluenced by my crush on
Cailleach
Bheur.
I grew up in Pennsylvania.
My family
home is a valley between
two "mountains" & winter
storms rip through. The wind
shrieks like a woman wailing.
At night I liked to lay there
in the dark & listen to
her, Cailleach Bheur.
She's real, but, umm, there's
so much lore on her that it's
hard to find a definitive explanation
of her (although there's a
lovely book I have on the Cailleach & of
course, a bunch of other fun
tales I've culled from other
sources). She's not head of
a court though. There's no
actual Winter Court (or Summer
Court). I made that part up
and some (but not all!) of
the faeries in it. Just re-telling
a story or character felt boring
to me. I hatehatehate being
bored.
So why a court?
There's
the Snow Queen in fairy tales.
I suspect I conflated them as
a child. My Cally needed a Court.
She needed people, faeries, to
look after her, to cower and
to sigh in awe.
Tales of Cailleach
There's
a tale (which will get some folklorists
to scowl if you ever want to
evoke a fun reaction) of Cailleach
Bheur and Bride as the same figure.
It's a maiden/crone sorta story.
I dislike it.
I do, however, like the idea
of Caileeach Bheur fighting
to hold on to winter & her
resistance to the onset of
summer (either via the Summer
King or Summer Queen) creating
a period of back and forth
that is spring. Likewise, her
waking up brings us fall/autumn.
There's the connection of the
Cailleach with the harvest. (Bundles
of harvested wheat are fashioned
in a woman shape, a cailleach.)
She's the loathly lady.
She's the woman in Chaucer's
Wife of Bath's Tale. (Hence the
fact that it's a Chaucer book
on the floor in Chapter 2)
She's the blue-faced hag in
Scottish lore. She has a wolf.
I like wolves. (The Gaelic word
for February, I believe, derives
from this.)
She's lived at least 7 lives.
Her children and grandchildren
are all the people and races.
She washes her plaid & shakes
it & thus the land is
covered in snow.
She has a watery form.
She creates whirlpools.
She becomes stone.
Anyhow . . . she's pretty
enthralling. When I started
writing poetry again (2 yrs
before the novel), it was her
I wrote about over & over.
So how did that get to WL?
So there's this story about
the "Dream of Angus" (Aislinge
Oenguso) that's conflated with
the Cailleach in that when Angus
dreams of his missing bride it's
Bride & Cailleach is
holding her prisoner.
There's Aislinge in that title
too, in case you missed that
:) Aislinge, a dream.
Aisling, a vision.
Aisling a vision poem.
Aisling whose names sounds
like "ash" which
happens if you get burnt up
by the sun.
I love her, but she became a
villain:
I've spent twenty
years of my life in
love with a woman who
is associated with
harvest, winter, endings,
change. Did I mention
that I was told at
14 that I had arthritis & winter's
snows require me to take medication?
That's where the idea of "carrying
the weight of winter" originated.
It's funny to me that I
wrote Wicked Lovely during
the only time in my life
that I was away from the
snows. In SoCal, I went almost
4 years without seeing snow.
It was the healthiest I've
ever been in my life . .
. I say I hate the winter.
I don't. I hate that it aches.
I hate that I can't go out
in it looking for Cailleach.
So when I wrote the introdction
to meeting her in Wicked Lovely,
I gave that feeling to Keenan:
He paused, watching silent
figures in the thorn-heavy garden
move as fluidly as the shadows
that danced under the icy trees.
The frost never melted in this
yard, never would, but the mortals
passing on the street saw only
the shadows. They looked away,
if they dared look at all. No
one--mortal or fey--stepped on
Beira's frigid lawn without her
consent. It was anything but
inviting.
Behind him, cars drove by on
the street, tires grinding the
frozen slush into a dirty grey
mess, but the sound was muted
by the almost tangible chill
that rested like a pall over
Beira's home. It hurt to breathe.
Welcome home.
Of course, it'd never felt
like home, but then again, Beira
had never felt like a mother.
Inside her domain, the air itself
made him ache, sapped the little
strength he had. He tried to
resist it, but until he came
into his full power, she could
send him to his knees. And she
did--every single visit.
But I wanted her beauty to
shine through too--which is in
another character's POV:
Beira blew through
the doorway, posing
like some old vampy
actress on the threshold.
After air-kissing and
artificial pleasantries,
she stretched out
on the sofa, crossing
her ankles, dangling
her dainty feet off
the edge. The femme
fatale image was only
ruined by the crude
staff she held lightly
in her hand. "I
was just thinking
about you, Darling."
And that her winter
wasn't lifeless but vibrant & lovely--which
is in
another POV:
Beira waved and two withered
hags stepped forward, flanking
her much the way ladies-in-waiting
did in paintings of royalty.
Under their glamours, these faeries
shared none of Beira's dark beauty;
they simply looked like someone
had sucked the life out of them,
leaving empty shells, haggard
and glassy-eyed.
Without glancing back, the
three strolled down the alley.
Shards of ice, cracked and angled
like broken glass glittered in
Beira's footsteps.
Beira's missing POV?
It's
odd to read responses
(or hear)
to her
in reviews. She's one
of the characters
I love most.
I want
to write from her POV
b/c I'm in love with
her & more
than a little terrified
of her,
not the
sliver of her I put
in
this
story but the entity
that
she has
been to me for most
of
my life.
She's that beautiful scream
in stark white vistas that makes
my bones ache so badly I can't
walk up the stair without pain
meds. I didn't write her POV
in Wicked Lovely because seeing
her through my characters' eyes
was the only way she'd be villain
enough. If we saw her through
her eyes--despite what one sweet
editor thinks--we'd see her beauty
better, but it wasn't right for
the novel.
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