Sunday, December 30, 2018

Firefly tree, set me free,

Hi friends and family! 
I wish you all a very prosperous 2019! May you be healthy, happy and free.
As I look and accept my path I see how that my life is inspired by a higher power. As I fulfill my desire to write after a life of work and hopefully service I want my words and pages to carry a message that discomfort is necessary to open doors of possibilities. Good and hard times, miracles and trials, as is bitter and sweet, part of life and living. 
Looking back I see how hardness taught me tenderness and lies forced me to find truth. That self righteousness is for the weak and when I feel anger or fear towards those who are different to remember that an apple is not a grape as a tree is not the sea; yet all is divine energy. 

Will continue to write and try not compare myself with those who have published tons or best selling books. My path must beone breath at a time. So very short is time on earth. Why we chose to be born as we are is revealed one day at a time. 




Firefly tree, set me free, free to be me.  

Friday, December 21, 2018

Immortals - The Series: The Sylph's Tale, first three chapters

Immortals - The Series: The Sylph's Tale, first three chapters: Hi readers and friends, I pray for peace and goodwill to all and sincerely wish you and your loved ones a blessed Holiday Season. ...

The Sylph's Tale, first three chapters



Hi readers and friends,

I pray for peace and goodwill to all and sincerely wish you and your loved ones a blessed Holiday Season.

As a gift from me to you here are the first three chapters of The Sylph's Tale, book one of Immortals- the series. 

Please send me a comment with your thoughts. 

Marta 










THE SYLPH’S TALE

By

Marta C. Weeks



Warning: This story contains sexual elements that might not sit well with the average reader.
Copyrightã2017 by Marta C Weeks



Fate Awaits

 
I shouldn't have returned to Earth after, like a salamander, I slid into a river between a man and a virgin. Her screams and his grunts stirred in me new thoughts: What must it be to feel flesh on bones? The idea jolted me back to the sky. 
~~~ 
To explain how it all came to be is like trying to hold time still as it expands and contracts. Every culture and experience intermingles with the reality and fantasy of what is and is not. Every living thing comes to be with memories of how it was before and was not. 
Eons before the present, or what I now call the First Age, The Almighty released multitudes of Celestials, supernatural and timeless spirits to witness the diverse processes of Earth’s evolution. A hallmark of angel hierarchy is brilliance. I, Archangel of Light, was the brightest of all spirits. We all are invisible and eternal, can take on the form of seraphs, winged heavenly messengers or any living creature, but we are not glorified human beings. Not male or female and cannot reproduce as humankind does. 
From times unknown, we witnessed oceans recede giving way to land. Energy flowed and chaos became order. Random matter transformed, leaving mere traces of what had preceded. Surviving matter continued the reproductive processes.
Overcome with reverence and wonder we watched The Almighty impart humans with ethereal substance: a soul, self-awareness, reason, and autonomy. Humanity rose in splendor and fell many times. In each era, from primitive beginnings, humans evolved in a manner, unlike any other living thing. Yoked with passions, humans strove for selfhood and lived, truly lived, to love, to work, to create, to war, and to ruin. They engorged the Tree of Life with pleasure and pain, sensations not experienced by Celestials.
In this First Age, in spirit, I roamed Earth. Stopped caring how other celestials reacted to mankind’s use of The Almighty's gifts. Humans enthralled me. Like a shadow or a breeze, I mingled amongst people in the throes of passions and struggles for survival. I became bored with the heavenly and consumed with human endeavors. Under the pretext of angelic observation, I watched men and women copulate, spellbound by all its aspects. 
It was not long after I slid as a salamander in a shallow river between a man and a virgin that for the first time a thought came in as a whisper as if to nudge me to do, to be, to become-how must it feel to be a human. It jolted me like thunder, and I fled to Heaven's Gate, to the protection of The Almighty’s Eternal City, but I did not enter. Like a thief, I held onto my thought. Not wanting to have what I had experienced taken from me. I remained outside. 
"Why did I think that? Did I feel envy?" I asked, in the safety of heaven’s harbor. 
I cannot deny I was harvesting sparks of jealousy. However, I continued to veil a growing desire for humanity with the argument: Celestials have no judgment. We can empathize with humans, and sway events by inspiring ideas within them, but we do not feel. Yet, like a squirrel running from a hawk's shadow, I felt the heart of fear. 
Not daring to enter the Eternal City, I pleaded to The Almighty Vision, “In You, I take refuge. Deliver me from illusions. I beg to appear before You. I want to serve You. Have I offended You? Almighty, am I envious? I long to see You.” For the first time ever, I was not summoned. No one came from behind the eternal gates. 
“Have my thoughts offended You? Please do not deny me Your presence. Please do not forsake me.” 
How can I, an Angel of Light, feel forsaken? I am of The Divine. “If I have wronged You by enjoying Your miracles in the land of the living, forgive me, but please do not forsake me!” 
Silence enveloped me with emptiness. 
For centuries, I did not return to Earth but hid in a black hole. Although celestials do not feel, best I can explain it is that I violated Holy Creeds and that realization exploded in me engulfed me in defeat, and, shriveling with loss, I vowed, defying my purpose, never to return to earth. But, I already was linked to human feelings. 
The Almighty remained silent, not because I, the Archangel of Light, was created free of error, but because The Almighty had abandoned me to my own choices, my own will. 
Millennia passed until a command came, "Abandon your exile. Look down to earth. Your fate awaits. Have faith, for I give you the world." 
Hearing The Almighty’s voice, I whimpered, “Is this Your command? Finally, You speak to me. How can I serve You? Have mercy on me.”
Countless Celestials cried out, “Have you lost all faith?”
“Why me?” I screamed. “Why? Am I doomed, an outcast? What will become of me?”
“Why not you?” The response froze in me. 
“Go, enjoy the land of the living. Now your function is to prepare the way for the Celestials of the World. You are the most brilliant Angel, one of the few that can enter The Eternal City.”
Is the human ego rising inside of me, taking over, saying what I want to hear? “If it’s not Your will, Almighty, please stop me, now,” I said.
“You are chosen to glorify creation,” the wind screamed across the sky as it pushed me into the clouds. “You must do as The Almighty demands."
But my mandate is to witness without intervening.”


Virgins of Caves

When I returned to earth, after flying in delight, I came to the summit of a mountain ten thousand feet above a canyon. The hill I now claim as my cliff.
From there I feasted on the spectacle of massive mountains, blackened by lava that rose over boulders formed by eruptions. Meltwater thundered over rocky ravines to the ocean, where blueprints of life lapped ashore in foaming waves.
Across three or four miles further was a small hill. Midway down, under terraced overhangs of colored volcanic rhyolite, tuff, and basalt, like large pigeonholes, around the entrance to caves and in the valley below were people. Tall, muscular and energetic, most with black or brownish hair, and dark to a light copper toned skin. Women wore short sleeve tunics from collar to knee and braids, coiled around the back of the neck or on top of the head. Male’s tunics were sleeveless and tied at the waist with a string, hair gathered at the back. Children wore half tunics.
Everyone but children had marks. Males had markings of hunting weapons and animals. Three men, with gray thinning hair, eyes glazed over and skin wrinkled, had marks on fingers. The women's tattoos were cross-shaped. Young women with a newborn in a sack tied to their waist and chest had one marking as if showing one child.
Days were long and sunny. Under shade, women made clothing from strips of fibers and bark, carved wood, bone, and rocks into utensils, and tended root crops. Males cleared land, tended animals, made tools and weapons. From a river that crossed over the valley at the end of the cliffs women and children caught fish with nets and men used spears made of wood with bone tips.
Women and children had private bathing sites behind a crop of bushes and everyone bathed each day before the sun disappeared behind the cliffs.
On one full moon, in front of a large cave at the center of it all, men sat around the fire. They played flutes made from bird bones and beat on drums made of animal skins stretched tight over hollowed wood or gourds of different sizes. Women cooked, served food and fermented beverages, with sad, downcast eyes and slow movements. Children took care of babies; despite the merriment, there was a whine of fear in their voices.
Silence fell over everything as three women with the most tattoos and saddest eyes forced out three girls from a cavern with the narrowest opening. Covered only by a pelt from waistline to mid-thigh, eyes with fear of caged lambs, downcast faces. Curvy bodies showed they had come to childbearing age. 
Virgins of caves, I realized.
They danced to what started as a soft, slow melody of flutes. Flowers crowning unbraided hair. Moonglow and firelight reflected rays of gold and reddish waves on locks that spilled over their backs and sides, barely hiding budding breasts. Eyes lined in black and crimson painted lips as if to conceal the innocence of adolescent bodies unmarked by tattoos.
When drums joined, the tone grew heavier and faster. Tears leaked from the girl's in black streaks. When the music paused, the three oldest men took them into the large cave
Did I want to intervene? YES. I wanted to set them on flames. As if my existence depended on this moment, I craved to swoop the maidens away and kill the old men. 
Others waited in sullen silence. Food and drink service stopped. Mothers clung to offspring. Males made a circle and talked around three young men.
At daybreak, as the sun crept into the heaven in a fiery blast of red, the elders brought out the girls, bedraggled and weeping, pushed them towards three young men, gesturing to grow their bellies and make lots of babies.
Months later, as torrential rains threatened to engulf everything, the entire clan rushed to harvest all that grew. Males gathered the animals and sheltered in pens below the caves. Before snow blanketed the whole valley floor, and men put rocks over the openings, women took refuge in the large cave. Just before the men followed, a girl child ran outdoors.
I stared at the little one. She was peering up at me. She can't possibly see me I thought. I have not taken a mortal form of any kind. Yet, she stares at me. Her eyes are open wide as if to show me the forests of the earth in her green pupils. She waves at me with a tiny hand, a smile fills her face before her mother looks up and takes her into the big cavern.
As the hole got covered from the inside, my wings spread, prepared for flight, but the sound of a waterfall and chirping of birds in a marsh, below the underside of the cliff, caught my attention. 

My Cross

The marsh I now call ‘our’ marsh, hemmed by jagged cliffs, is where on the first chirps of spring, I basked at the lip of a meadow. An eagle fluttered over me, spread out its wings, and from its pinions, a seed dropped on melting snow.
Some time passed and the seed sprouted a shoot. 
The seed will scorch in summer or freeze in winter
But, to my delight, in a few seasons, it grew into a small tree with stipules extending to veined leaves covered by fine protective down. Eventually, it reached a hundred feet toward the sun, over rich ferns and moss, two of its branches arching like arms to the sky. 
On a hot day under that very tree, I sat while delicate solar rays penetrated its massive canopy and three triangular red seeds dropped on the fertile soil. 
My living cross, my treeas if from the tree that thought came to me. 
accelerated time. The seeds merged. From their axis sprouted a shoot that split into three branches. Each branch snaked under the earth to root. 
The sacred geometry of nativity, interconnected with the essence of truth, matter, and mind . . . origin of life, genetic base, ready to affect life's evolutionary trajectory.
 From the stem of the rooted branches, three shoots emerged and flowered instantly. Inspired, I appeared as a winged seraph. A youngster with white eagle wings, hair, and skin in shades of honey, eyes like the sky, muscular body enfolded in pale moon robes. 
“My Eden” I shouted and looked around.
Jewels of creation sprouted: a gold lotus with dark green leathery leaves; delicate cupped flowers; water lilies along the water's edge; large clumps of slender spidery orchids over rocks. Even on dry, parched soil beyond the marsh roses bloomed. 
It was a day of new beginnings.
If human, a thought slipped into me. I focused on water from the top of a cliff falling between rocks.
If human, the thought came alive; I could stick my tongue in water and sip thirst away. However, we Eternals don’t need food, drink, shelter, or sleep. 
A soft rumble from within the earth interrupted my reverie. As night descended, from the rumble a play unfolded. No choreographer, scientist, believer, skeptic, clergy, or holy soothsayer was needed. In synchronized broods, as if from the roots of my tree with mighty universal forces of divinity, thousands of Magi-Cicadas emerged from their 17-year-long burials. Twitching, contracting, and palpitating they expelled innards that trickled over their hard shells, softening their skeletons and freeing their bodies. 
They are releasing the waters of their own baptism. I like a poet waited.
Male cicadas walked up to my tree, calling and jostling each other as in a cithara symphony of earsplitting love songs. Female cicadas, mythology's adolescent nymphs, unfolded their translucent wings, their stout bodies swirling. In their joyous rebirth and resurrection, the cicada drama ceded life's stage to a thunder of wildlife and firefly sparkles. 
It was then that a slender girl ran towards me. I was certain she could not see me but her pupils in her large translucent green eyes widened in recognition.
Her long black hair flowed over her budding breasts and only a pelt covered her femaleness, her skin, the soft brown of earth, glistening with perspiration. She was a virgin, but not for long. She was sixteen. Some petals, from what had been a flower crown fell over her unbraided hair, covering her breasts. Her eyes smudged with black streaks and her lips in red. The single pelt revealed a body unmarked by tattoos. 
She shivered, aware that males scaling the rocks were closer. 
Most likely, she is a prize for their elders. 
She looked over her shoulder. 
I had seen men in her clan take females at the onset of womanhood.
She has run away. Doesn't care if beasts ravage her.In her mind are thoughts of her mother
She wanted a child, but not by force. Shrouded in the dark of night, she sought refuge beneath my tree. Under ferns, she squatted on cool moss. 
Her pursuers will find her by her scent. 
She is helpless
I wanted to protect her, yet her beauty aroused in me a burning desire to love her. In her eyes, I saw the forests of earth.
Soft breezes swirled leaves, and in the eddy, a voice hissed, “Do you feel carnal love, Angel? Do you want carnal love?”
Is it Your sweet voice, my Almighty? Is it possible for an angel to feel, to want? It cannot be . . .” I said in spirit, on my knees, eyes to the sky.
There was no answer. As in a spell, a seething desire to feel, a longing to love pushed in me. 
Am I beyond my Maker’s reach, no longer a Celestial, but filled with humanity, not able to abstain?
In a soft rustle of spring grass, a spontaneous whisper sprang from me, “I beseech You, Almighty to save me. Clean me. Or let me be born into flesh, though it means knowing pain and death.” 
Nothing came. 
I cried, “Your will be done!”
The Almighty thundered, a voice into my mind, "You, Celestial of Light, so quick to forsake your grace! You have lost sight of your purpose. You are denied a soul and the flesh you so zealously relish."
How could I have asked for humanity, for flesh? Please forgive me. Almighty I clearly do not know what I say or do.”
Deafened by The Almighty’s silent rage, I fled with wings folded around me and hid between clouds, shivering as a butterfly might when pupating, undergoing their final transformation. What is happening to me? I was unaware that humanness was birthing in me.
“On this day, you crossed to the other side. Purity is lost to you” a voice said. I didn't recognize but it sounded familiar.
Almighty, do you not care that I perish?" 
A violent wind forced me down to earth.
You have woken. Why are you so terrified? Have you no faith?"

Monday, December 10, 2018

About plot and character



Don't you just love when you come across information that unlocks the door to clarity in your writing? That's how I feel about these articles by K.M. Weiland on plot and character so I'm sharing them:  "How to Choose Your Story’s Plot Points" can be applied to practically any story, but mainly to a lengthy and complex one. And, if you continue reading, click on: "4 Ways to Choose a Better Theme for Your Book."

For me, both articles made clear how the heart of a story is not in the plot but in the main protagonist. Here is how I answered her questions regarding theme as they apply to my book The Sylph's Tale:

1. What is it your protagonist brings to this particular conflict that no other character does?
    The Archangel of Light saves a pubescent girl from her ancient tribe's rite of passage. He is dammed for eternity to be Ayekah, a being without a soul.

2. Why is this his conflict and plot—and not anyone else’s in the story?
    Even thought Haya is equally essential it is Ayekah who tells the story of his falling and their love, and it is he who loses all he was for her.

3. What is your protagonist’s greatest virtue?
     Not sure if it's that Ayekah continues to be righteous and ask for forgiveness until The Almighty tries to destroy his descendants; or that he stays with Haya even after she abandons him for her clan.

4. Greatest flaw?
     As the Archangel of Light, he violated his purpose as a watcher and not interfere with humans. This caused him to become both anguished over his choice and enraged with the Almighty for damning him.

5. How do this virtue and this flaw directly influence the plot—and what do they say about both the plot and the character himself?
It is because Ayekah has the power to be more than any human and can change Haya's life and the live's of all women in her clan.

I plan to continue refining the above points as they apply to my story and characters and hope you find them helpful.


Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Hi, you have my ear-salamander-ring keeping in touch

Your information, experience, strength, advice, books, promotions, art, and comments are all welcomed on my webpage.
I am a new author, last year I published the first book of my series, The Sylph's Tale, as a novella base on mythology I wanted to do a screenplay rendition and did and it won an award.
The book itself has great reviews despite that it was published missing four chapters! Imagine my despair!
However, as the saying, when you get lemons make lemonade, I will soon republish with the four missing chapters PLUS two additional chapters not edited before the initial publication. Bad, because buyers have a book missing four chapters, however, Amazon and D2D tell me they will notify those buyers and offer a free revised copy.
I encourage you to share your writing and reading adventures and to subscribe so I can also send you a free copy of the revised book. 


Monday, November 19, 2018

Characters are more important than plot!

When asked about the single biggest factor that defines a great screenplay, he emphatically responded “characters.” This is what drives his passion; exciting characters. The plot is secondary.
Here is the entire article: https://creativescreenwriting.com/savvy-follow-heart-filmmaker-phil-volkens-ode-screenwriters/

Saturday, November 03, 2018

The Sylph's Tale is loosely based on Mythology

Hi, and thanks to those who have asked if The Sylph's Tale, the first book of Immortals-the series, is based on Mythology; the answer is yes, my favorite subjects in college were Anthropology and History.


Here is a document with pictures and links that demonstrate how The Sylph's Tale is loosely based on Mythology. The reason I say loosely is that Ayekah is not a demon and Haya is not evil but they have been taken over by dark powers.


Also, since I will republish The Sylph's Tale — published by Amazon and D2D with four missing chapters, they received an incorrect file - I will include, in the new publication, this information plus the first two chapters of VIRGINS. 


Thank you for your patience and sorry for the mistake, please remember that if you bought it already let me know I will send you a revised version for free.


THE ANGEL AND VIRGIN JOURNEYand caves are loosely based on Mesoamerican caves and nine levels of the underworld as found in Mayan and Aztec history. Sources of information include Rites in the Underworld: Rites and caves as Sacred Space in Mesoamerica.


amazon.comLilith The Mother of all Dark Creatures: E. R. Vernor: 9781511701877: Amazon.com: Books

HAYA, THE INNOCENT GIRL, is loosely based on Lilith. In one account she is Samael's counterpart and a mother of demons and can be seen seducing the fallen angels as Naamah; after the fall, they had daughters: Nashiym, the Lilim, the Lilith who seduced the watchers. Wholly new in the Kabbalistic concept of Lilith is her appearance as the permanent partner of Samael, queen of the realm of the forces of evil (the Sitra Ahra).” 




AYEKAH, IS LOOSELY BASED ON SAMAEL, the fallen angel myth, often referenced as the "watchers, holy ones". Also as Enoch, watchers that "fell" after they became "enamored" with human women.” and in “the Greek transcription as Grigori.[17] including 1 Enoch (10.4),[18] link the angel's transgression with the great deluge.[19]””













Monday, October 29, 2018

Would love your comments!


I will be incorporating The Sylph's Tale into VIRGINS, first two books of Immortals- the series.
Last November I published The Sylph's Tale - book one- as a novella because I intended to do a screenplay rendition. The novella has 4-5 star ratings on Amazon and excellent reviews from my readers. The screenplay won a third-place quarter ISA award.
I am incorporating both books for three reasons: A) the main complaint from readers is that The Sylph's Tale is too short, readers want more; B) both are based on the myth of the female goddesses and the fallen angel; C) it will be easier to get an agent/publisher is the book is over 50 thousand words.

Sunday, October 28, 2018

We all want people to like our work but...

Beware the flatterer - Build Book Buzz: Are you book spending decisions being blinded by flattery from less-than-scrupulous vendors. Learn why you should beware the flatterer and how to spot the villains. (Or, at least, people who are more interested in your money than your success.)

A writing schedule

After retiring, sometimes having worked a job and a half, while raising a family, I wanted to get lost in writing. Could see myself creating or finishing articles and stories I had started here and there, but it was hard to adjust to set a writing and publishing schedule. 
Boundaries diminished or changed as needs from family and home increased. It became "as soon as" I get this done, or this passes. Then came vacations and travel we had dreamed of doing. Finally, I rebelled against routines but noticed, from others in writer's groups, classes, and success gurus - in particular males - that they kept a "dead-set-schedules" for writing. While women - not from lack of discipline but because we rarely have "wives" to take care of demands and issues - and give in to tribe and community more often. We also are multi-taskers. 
One writer always says, "from 6 to 9 pm, after dinner, even if we have company, I write, every-single-day. No matter what, I lock my home-office door, and my everyone knows they cannot disturb me," his wife sitting next to him nodded. Wow

Author Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/martacweeks/

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Immortals - The Series: A magnificent site.

Immortals - The Series: A magnificent site.: All I want to say for now is that LISA CRON, The Story Coach is magnificent and I recommend it to all writers! Now, excuse me, I have to g...

Immortals - The Series: A magnificent site.

Immortals - The Series: A magnificent site.: All I want to say for now is that LISA CRON, The Story Coach is magnificent and I recommend it to all writers! Now, excuse me, I have to g...

A magnificent site.

All I want to say for now is that LISA CRON, The Story Coach is magnificent and I recommend it to all writers! Now, excuse me, I have to get back to it.


http://wiredforstory.com

Monday, September 24, 2018

HOW TO SHOW AND NOT TELL

Showing and not telling offers an undeniable appreciation of a protagonist's feelings, purpose, and reasons but is difficult to carry out. 
As a research analyst, and later as a columnist, my focus was facts. Also, books filled with a minutia of information to build volume annoy me.  But, novels are not technical guides nor reports, so I am learning how to show not tell. Not to limit the protagonist’s involvement, emotions and setting with a scarcity of detail while not dragging the story into a mountain of verbosity. 
For example, in The Sylph’s Tale, when Haya demands “Take me back” and “use wings” Ayekah says “no wings,” even though he realizes that she fears her people but without her, he loses all. To describe a hero's struggle and uncover passions became magical and compelled me to dig deep into who characters are and how experiences influence them and their reality. 
My readers complain that THE SYLPH'S TALE is too short. I agree and love that my readers care. Their observations are helping me to improve the next book of the series VIRGINS.
Here is a great article by K.M. WEILAND3 Tips for Improving Show, Don’t Tell

Friday, August 31, 2018

On query letters


A query letter is supposed to be creative, well written but succinct. In the last few days, I started querying agents and editors. The answers have been NO thank you but I truly appreciate those who respond with great care and some suggestions: THANK YOU!
This article gives a good sample even though most agents/editors have their own requirements:
 



Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Check list for screenplays

This script readers list is a must for those learning how to write screenplays and or writing one.

A Script Reader's Checklist - ScreenCraft: Readers are the much maligned gatekeepers to studios and production companies, filtering screenplays and writing the cursory coverage that will seal the fate of the script in the eyes of...A Script Reader's Checklist.

Thursday, August 09, 2018

Stephen King, His Books, and Their Origins at Lisner Audiotorium

Last but not least, in my humble opinion, the best writing classes a writer can ever take is reading and listening to the masters. To me, that includes many such as Anne Rice, Jean M Auel, Carlos Castaneda, Elizabeth Kostova, JF Rowlings, Isabel Allende and more, may more.

Creative writing lessons: Creative Writing tips, advice and lessons from...

Still on the masters, because they are masters...


Writing Tips From Stephen King

I am still hung up on my editing the first chapter of VIRGINS so I decided to listen to a few of those who I consider MASTERS and here is one that absolutely cracked me up because I relate.

Tuesday, August 07, 2018

Getting into VIRGINS

For weeks I was having a hard time editing VIRGINS, felt like a failure because my deadline to publish VIRGINS was July 29, that date passed and nothing!

Then I got a rejection that sank me into doubt. Am I a corrupt human being? Does my writing violate principles to the point that an agent, even though she loves my book - took the time to write me a long and wonderful letter - but her publishing house will not publish it;  I edited the agency and her name out of the letter and posted my response to them on my webpage, its called A letter of explanation. Asked several readers and I didn't feel any better when one said: "I loved the sex parts!" Am I a porno writer? I asked others and they said, "NO you are not".

I need to finish editing and publish the next two books of the series but was not able to let go of the need to add another first chapter to VIRGINS, it felt like it lacked a transition from The Sylph's Tale. Sometimes I find inspiration when doing research because before I check for facts I trust my instinct and listen to my characters. So, I have been doing a lot of research about Armenia since that's where VIRGINS begins and where Ayekah's descendants find refuge when rescued by The Dragon Eternity during the great flood.

Like I said, I love research and can get lost in it and am amazed when the story and the characters once I start editing are right on target. One reason why my husband and I, he is my first and last editor, traveled to Spain is because VIRGINS starts in Europe in 1958. When we were there we found almost everything as I had written it including a town called Lalin and the church cemetery.

Yesterday I listened to YouTubes from JK Rowlings, Anne Rice, Jean M Auel and others about writing, rejections, criticism, and encouragement. Late in the evening, the first paragraph was born and came alive in me. Now, I am back in focus.

Saturday, July 21, 2018

A letter of explanation



A wonderful agent from a publishing house replied to me about The Sylph's Tale here is my partial and anonymous response:

I so appreciate that you truly wanted to like The Sylph’s Tale and after reading comments by your acquisition department I felt great shame and was going to trash the book but realized that it’s because I haven’t come to terms with some of the issues they brought up so, I am immensely grateful that they did and that you shared their comments with me.

I was brought up a Catholic and in a convent for my early education. Prayer and mass was a daily event and I was truly devoted. Before that, poliomyelitis limited what I could do so many of my days were spent in the attic of my grandparents store where they kept books no one bought. Sitting on a crate by a small window under a lightbulb strung from the ceiling I slowly poured over their pages - I am also dyslexic so I don’t read fast. All kinds of stories interested me but my favorites were novels and books about saints. That Jesus was born from a virgin mother always fascinated me but at the time I didn’t know much about sex.

Why am I telling you all this? Not sure, but its like I’m trying to say that morality is not something I take lightly, I’m not a prude and have lived at times a risky life, but that was then, this is now. Please excuse me taking so much of your time but I just started to submit my book, the first in my series, and other than the usual “not interested” I haven’t received comments that will serve me as immensely as those you have shared with me, thank you.

Now, about The Sylph’s Tale: it has rocked me to the core and when I started the journey with Ayekah it was so impactful that it almost ruined my marriage. It came to me in dreams and apparitions that plunged me into confusion. Gerona, a leading protagonist in book two, VIRGINS, experiences my turmoil. However, even though my career was not related to anthropology or history (I retired after almost three decades of working for the government, the last 20 as a research analyst), studies of past human cultures through investigation of physical evidence is my favorite subject.

Because of Ayekah, the relationship between angle/humans and religious themes, including Jesus, dragons and other mythical beings, as well as paranormal events and terror are prevalent throughout my Immortals series.

Book three, ROLO is a mix of science, and horror. There are sexual parts in every one of the books — but not more than in The Sylph’s Tale - that shame me even though the angle/humans myth is in the Bible and Torah. The rape scene of the tribesmen was hard to write but such things were part of primitive clans. Please know, I'm a tenacious advocate of women’s rights. And excuse me for taking so much of your time, but like I said this is also an exercise for me to take the shame or dealing with the reality of what the series is: very provocative and maybe scandalous and can I cope with it?

The words of a dear friend, an author who first read it years ago still give me chills, she said I see a cult forming from this. I should have stopped writing it then but it had stopped being a choice as I was taken into other realms by Ayekah. I truly don’t feel he is evil, he doesn’t rape virgins, he and Haya helped end such rituals. He uses his light for the firstborn from every virgin to be an angel/human. They liberated pubescent girls from forced mergers. Because he, Haya and the Mardi (Haya’s invisible guide) women in the clan become “emancipated.” Do things, only males could, also learn to free their sexuality and choose partners.

Comment I respect and will use some of it in my warning: “I don’t recommend because of the touching upon this fictional ancient tribal (?) practice of pubescent girls being raped by the male leaders as a rite of passage.” I put a warning in each book even though readers point out that "begets" in the Bible is about sex between “close” relatives; how else did Adam and Eve populate the earth? The comments from your publishers are right on target and I will use them to describe my book and warn others of the subject matter for I don’t want anyone reading them without knowing what's involved.

Some comments I love: “this is a story of an angel fallen from grace. He becomes fascinated with human feelings and procreation. He is tempted into having sex with Haya and falls in love with her. The Almighty damns him to be soulless, a sylph, retaining much of his powers as an angel but unable to die. While she is alive, she and other very young females are impregnated by the Sylph, and the resulting children are smarter, stronger, etc., than human children. He makes a life with Haya but when she eventually dies of old age, he wishes he could die. In anger, he turns his efforts to tempting other angels to do as he has done. The Almighty sends the great flood to try to exterminate the progeny of the fallen angels.”

After your email I asked myself what novelists do I like that deal with sex and primitive clans but not in a porno way and they include: Jean M. Auel, Arthur Golden - Memories of A Geisha, Mary Mackey - Earth Song series, James Clavel - Shogun, George RR Martin - Game of Thrones, and Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid’s Tale. Controversial novels about religion that have become top-selling movies include Jesus Christ Super Star and The Last Temptation of Christ.

Immense thanks for: "That said, this is intelligently and generally well-written in the style of storytelling that reminds me of mythology. However, the first third of the story in particular felt pretty filled with the angst and lament of whether he was following the Almighty’s wish and shouting/pleading for guidance.” I can understand and agree with: " I am uncomfortable with the use of Bible stories and background being used so thoroughly in fiction. Noah’s Ark and the flooding of the earth, Jesus teaching followers and being persecuted/crucified, it feels strange, and I believe may be offensive to many readers."

Also the care that the reviewer took in writing: “the author wrote sparingly of those things, and it is to her credit that she could flesh out those scenes with few sentences.” I am asked by others to write in more detail about the sexual elements but refuse because the series is not about sex it is: “Granted, it is understandable for readers to be shown the background of such stories to give weight to this tale. In the way of myth”

I truly would love to get more understanding about this: “ found that I sometimes was mildly lost in the logic.” So glad for the: “here was plenty of interesting detail and explanation of the mundane activities of the human community/tribe”. Because I’ve been asked to write more on this and I agree that there's enough. Understand, even though I would love for that not to be the case: “Still, I don’t believe there would be an adequate readership for this tale and do not recommend offering a contract.”

It is evident that the acquiring editors who made these comments are: “highly seasoned readers, reviewers, critiquers, etc. and we trust their judgement.”

Last but not least, dear xxxxxx, thank you for "But, know that what our house feels isn’t what all houses will feel so I encourage you to submit the story to other houses. I’m certain there is a house that would be willing to publish Sylph’s Tale.” I apologize for taking so much of your time with my explanations and comments.

Thank you to the readers for taking the time to make very helpful comments. I will continue to submit and if you think of houses please let me know.
Sincerely.

The Sylph's Tale avialable on:

 Amazon

Books2Read


Saturday, July 07, 2018

Music I love to listen to while I write.

The music I listen to when I am writing depends on what I'm working on. If it's editing or new work on Immortals-the series, The Sylph Ayekah, and will soon be published VIRGINS, I favor Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. If I'm doing stories, blogging or poetry, I listen to Music by Charro or The Beatles and The Doors, and other like that. How about you?



Friday, July 06, 2018

Fate Awaits from The Sylph's Tale

As I promised, here is the first FREE read of Immortals-the series, Book One, The sylph's Tale.



BOOK ONE


THE SYLPH’S TALE


By

Marta C. Weeks



Warning: This story contains sexual elements that might not sit well with the average reader.

Copyrightã2017 by Marta C Weeks


Fate Awaits
I shouldn't have returned to Earth after, as a salamander, I slid into a river between a man and a virgin. Her screams and his grunts stirred in me new thoughts: What must it be to feel flesh on bones? The idea jolted me back to the sky. 
~~~

To explain how it all came to be is like trying to hold time still as it expands and contracts. Every culture and experience intermingles with the reality and fantasy of what is and is not. Every living thing comes to be with memories of how it was before and was not. 
Eons before the present, or what I now call the First Age, The Almighty released multitudes of Celestials, supernatural and timeless spirits to witness the diverse processes of Earth’s evolution. A hallmark of angel hierarchy is brilliance. I, Archangel of Light, was the brightest of all spirits. We all are invisible and eternal, can take on the form of seraphs, winged heavenly messengers or any living creature, but we are not glorified human beings. Not male or female and cannot reproduce as humankind does. 
From times unknown, we witnessed oceans recede giving way to land. Energy flowed and chaos became order. Random matter transformed, leaving mere traces of what had preceded. Surviving matter continued the reproductive processes.
Overcome with reverence and wonder we watched The Almighty impart humans with ethereal substance: a soul, self-awareness, reason, and autonomy. Humanity rose to splendor and fell many times. In each era, from primitive beginnings, humans evolved in a manner unlike any other living thing. Yoked with passions, humans strove for selfhood and lived, truly lived, to love, to work, to create, to war, and to ruin. They engorged the Tree of Life with pleasure and pain, sensations not experienced by Celestials.
In this First Age, in spirit, I roamed Earth. Stopped caring how other celestials reacted to mankind’s use of The Almighty's gifts. Humans enthralled me. Like a shadow or a breeze, I mingled amongst people in the throes of passions and struggles for survival. I became bored with the heavenly and consumed with human endeavors. Under the pretext of angelic observation, I watched men and women copulate, spellbound by all its aspects. 
It was not long after I slid as a salamander in a shallow river between a man and a virgin that for the first time a thought came in as a whisper as if to nudge me to do, to be, to become-how must it feel to be a human. It jolted me like thunder, and I fled to Heaven's Gate, to the protection of The Almighty’s Eternal City, but I did not enter. Like a thief, I held onto my thought. Not wanting to have what I had experienced taken from me. I remained outside. 
"Why did I think that? Did I feel envy?" I asked, in the safety of heaven’s harbor. 
I cannot deny I was harvesting sparks of jealousy. However, I continued to veil a growing desire for humanity with the argument: Celestials have no judgment. We can empathize with humans, and sway events by inspiring ideas within them, but we do not feel. Yet, like a squirrel running from a hawk's shadow, I felt the heart of fear. 
Not daring to enter the Eternal City, I pleaded to The Almighty Vision, “In You, I take refuge. Deliver me from illusions. I beg to appear before You. I want to serve You. Have I offended You? Almighty, am I envious? I long to see You.” For the first time ever, I was not summoned. No one came from behind the eternal gates. 
“Have my thoughts offended You? Please do not deny me Your presence. Please do not forsake me.” 
How can I, an Angel of Light, feel forsaken? I am of The Divine. “If I have wronged You by enjoying Your miracles in the land of the living, forgive me, but please do not forsake me!” 
Silence enveloped me with emptiness. 
For centuries, I did not return to Earth but hid in a black hole. Although celestials do not feel, best I can explain it is that I violated Holy Creeds and that realization exploded in me engulfed me in defeat, and, shriveling with loss, I vowed, defying my purpose, never to return to earth. But, I already was linked to human feelings. 
The Almighty remained silent, not because I, the Archangel of Light, was created free of error, but because The Almighty had abandoned me to my own choices, my own will. 
Millennia passed until a command came, "Abandon your exile. Look down to earth. Your fate awaits. Have faith, for I give you the world." 
Hearing The Almighty’s voice, I whimpered, “Is this Your command? Finally, You speak to me. How can I serve You? Have mercy on me.”
Countless Celestials cried out, “Have you lost all faith?”
“Why me?” I screamed. “Why? Am I doomed, an outcast? What will become of me?”
“Why not you?” The response froze in me. 
“Go, enjoy the land of the living. Now your function is to prepare the way for the Celestials of the World. You are the most brilliant Angel, one of the few that can enter The Eternal City.”
Is the human ego rising inside of me, taking over, saying what I want to hear? “If it’s not Your will, Almighty, please stop me, now,” I said.
“You are chosen to glorify creation,” the wind screamed across the sky as it pushed me into the clouds. “You must do as The Almighty demands."
But my mandate is to witness without intervening.”

***Note: thanks for reading, I welcome comments. if you want to read more wait for next excert or go to:  Amazon The sylph's Tale or Books2Read