Susan M. Botich
 

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In 1976, while working as a professional musician, I wrote my first children’s story, “Monica and the Moonbeam.” “Monica and the Moonbeam” was originally written as a suite of songs with brief narrative interspersed between each song. It was meant to be a performance piece, combining music with story-telling. Later, I rewrote the story into standard book form and began seeking publication for it. This began my journey on the road to literary story writing.

I have written other children’s stories since, as well as two novels, Enchantments, a verse-novel based on Arthurian legend, and The Dreamer, a YA science-fiction novel. I am currently seeking publication for The Dreamer.

In 2002, I discovered the international children's writing group, Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI) and immediately joined the Nevada chapter of SCBWI. I have been an active member of the Nevada chapter of SCBWI since that time.



Synopsis for Enchantments, a verse-novel:  

Enchantments is an allegorical tale told in prose and verse.

Our storyteller is E’lienna, daughter of Lady Claire, a human, and Gle’anden, prince of elves of E’alowen.

Though born and raised in the elfin land of E’alowen, E’lienna longs to better understand her human lineage. She sets out from E’alowen and into human lands. There, she visits the wizened Mage of Dur, a long-time friend to her parents. She discovers that the wizard is secretly working to help bring about a new age throughout the land of humankind. For he reveals to her that a babe, born of a king, has been secretly hidden away until such time when he is grown so that he may fulfill a prophesy made long ago of a king of men who will grow to rule the land with justice and mercy.

Through her quest to find out more about her mother’s past and her own place in the world, E’lienna discovers that her personal longing for understanding also threads into a much larger design – how deeply entwined the worlds of men and elves truly are and how much they need one another.

The manuscript is approximately 50,300 words, 214 pages.

 Enchantments excerpt:

 My name is E’lienna. I am daughter to a human woman and an elfin prince. Both bloods flow within my veins, the human and the elfish. This very thing it is which brings up longing deep within me, a longing in my heart and mind to find my own place in both worlds.

Born into a time of change for elf and humankind alike, I have always sought out answers far beyond my elfin kin’s embrace. Many stories tell of how the worlds of men and elves are weaving. This is my own story. So, listen if you’ve mind to hear, and I’ll recount my tale to you in that fashion keeping with the long-held elf tradition; poetry and prose entwining.  

***

 While moon shines bright and full, I ride out from my elfin wood, E’alowen, and under hood and cloak, I keep myself quite hidden. After I have ridden under summer’s silken stars for three nights and three days, I finally come upon the village where the wizard dwells. I’ve come to visit him.

I reach his cottage just at dusk and knock upon the door three times. He opens it and clearly is astonished by my visit.

“E’lienna!” says the sage. “Child, what brings you here?”

“Good Mage,” say I, “I am no child. Sixteen years have crowned me. I have come in hope of finding answers to a mystery which will not be explained to me by either of my parents. So please, good sage, will you engage in sharing what you know? For you are wise and friend to both my father and my mother.”

“Do they know that you are here?” he asks, and strokes his beard.

“Of course, good mage!” I answer truly. (Elves don’t lie or trick.) “It was they who told me you might offer clarity! Now, will you let me in?”

And, so, the wizened Mage of Dur ushers me inside. His cottage proves a simple hut, yet comfortable and cozy.

“Sit. Please sit. And have some tea,” he says, upon my entering.

He serves it on a wooden tray, in two clay cups, all painted brightly. Then, he sits himself across the large old wooden table, smiles and cocks his head.

“Now, pray, tell me why you’ve come.”

            I pull a locket from the bag which hangs about my waist and open it to show, inside, two portraits, small as thumbnails.

“Sir,” I say, “I want to know whose picture this might be.”

On the left, my mother smiles, her sixteen year-old face all rosy. On the right, another girl stares out from sullen eyes. Their faces seem so similar. Hair and eyes, chin and cheek, both share all the same fine features. Yet, they could not be more different – one a joyous angel, filled with light and magic, one an angry, brooding creature, shadowed, bleak and tragic.

I set the locket down before him. Even before looking, he begins to nod his head then sighs and closes his dark eyes as if he knows already who the woman must have been.

“No wonder Claire sent you to me,” he finally says, “and I agree it was a good thing that she sent you here. For this tale is a tale of grief – for her and your poor grandmother. Because you ask this task of me, I’ll tell you what I can.”

He pauses. I wait. Then he takes a long and heavy breath.

“How shall I begin? This portrait, E’lienna, is of your mother’s sister.”

“Mother has no sister!” I exclaim.

“Now, good child,” he says, “you must allow me to explain. And without interruption! As I said, I’ll tell you what I’m able. But I warn you, E’lienna, this is not a fable! This is sorrow.  This is pain. Now, shall I start, again?”

The air hangs still, a silent weight that seems quite palpable. I swallow back my sudden feeling of dismay and answer, “Yes, dear mage, continue on, I pray. I will hold my tongue, I promise. ‘Til the end of it.”

“Alright, alright. Now let me see,” he begins again. “Eloise, your mother’s sister, born but one year before she, also had a strong desire to know magic. And this fire burned within her ever more each year that passed until, at last, it seemed that Eloise became obsessed.

“Unlike your mother’s love for light, her sister’s ‘love’ seemed more a fight for wielding power over others. While your mother meditated, Eloise would scheme and plot. While your mother humbly waited, Eloise stewed viciously over all that Claire’d been given, which she had not. She was a jealous child.

“Your grandparents saw all this unfold before their very eyes. And, yet, a parent’s love is blinded, sometimes, by a thin disguise. Eloise played cleverly upon their sympathy.

“Then one scratchy autumn day, as Eloise went searching in a nearby wood for funguses and nasty things she’d planned to use to cast a spell to make herself invisible, she came upon a traveler – a wicked sorcerer! Well, that was all it really took. Eloise became his student. Off she went, away from home, to live with that most wretched thief within that dank and musty wood!

“He taught her filthy kinds of spells – spells which, cast upon poor victims, caused disease and pain! Oh, but she felt powerful! And, then, one night that fraud divulged, if she would simply bring her sister to the darkest corner of that wood, he could show her one most potent spell to rid herself for good of fairer Claire. He promised he would show her how to cast this ‘wondrous spell.’ It would allow – he did avow – Eloise eternal life!

“And, so, young Eloise,” the wizard pauses then looks down at my gold and silver locket, taking it in hand, “and, so, she tried to capture Claire for this most evil purpose.”

Sample verse-chapter from Enchantments: The Elves

To read the entire manuscript, Enchantments, click here.


 

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