As I mentioned in a previous post that announced the Prologue, I’ve started working on publishing my book, Tildy Silverleaf and the Starfall Omen. As I release chapters, I plan to write an accompanying post that provides a behind-the-scenes look at the work. To skip right to reading the new chapter, click here: Chapter One – Spring in Dappledown.

I started my writing with Chapter One, not the Prologue, because getting a feel for my protagonist and her home were crucial to understanding whether I had a story worth pursuing. I needed to establish my unnamed hero, her home, and the witch she reluctantly called “mother”. The ideas flowed effortlessly from thought to word, and Tildy, as she would became known, nearly flew from the page into life.

I had something.

Let’s be clear though, I didn’t have a story yet. I had vague ideas about the antagonists, which eventually came to life in the Prologue. I knew I wanted a monster (more on that when we get to Chapter Four), and I knew I wanted a boy in Tildy’s life, though my plan for their relationship wasn’t the typical girl-meets-boy storyline (I eventually discovered it’s like a Studio Ghibli movie, though I wasn’t aware of that at the time. More on this in Chapter 8). And, weirdly enough, I wanted some chapters to take naming inspiration from the story titles within The Canterbury Tales.

A few months later, I shared my first excerpt – probably prematurely – though like a mad scientist, I was proud to proclaim that my creation had come to life.

As I wrote her, I had a number of fictional characters in mind: Princess Leia, Hermione Grainger, Pippi Longstocking, and Anne Shirley (of Green Gables). Fiction wasn’t my only source of inspiration, however. Tildy is a ferocious advocate for the underprivileged because of my wife, a seventh grade Language Arts teacher. It’s probably no surprise, then, that she’s also the reason that reading is so important to Tildy. I coined the phrase “voracious wolf-reader” to ensure I properly conveyed their insatiable appetite for books.

Writing is a funny thing. Some details come very early in the process. Others happen late. A few key things even arrived after I’d finished the final draft. Here’s an example of something that took some time.

Tildy wouldn’t have a surname for nearly 3 years, and I went through a LOT of ideas that just…didn’t…fit. That’s actually analogous to what the character goes through, since her real name is a mystery and it didn’t occur to her adoptive mother that she might need more than the name “Tildeneth”. Just like your friendly neighborhood author, she put a lot of thought into it because it would carry a lot of weight: for me, the big name on the covers of a book series; for her, an inspiration that would prove prophetic. We get to joke about this a little in Chapter 2.

Speaking of mysteries, Tildy’s wings and her accidentally flying were concepts from the start, but we don’t know why she has this ability. This eventually expands into other abilities, which I won’t spoil. Having grown up on tales of Fairies Fae, she’s certain she has fairy blood, though the witch, who is quite knowledgeable in such things, is adamant she does not.

Oh, there’s a witch? you might ask. Is she the typical cackling Halloween figure, some kind of druidic-wiccan -healer stereotype, or what exactly? The answer is an unsatisfactory, it depends. From the start, I wanted her to be perceived differently to illustrate how bias of both negative and positive kinds can cause a people to behave in various ways. Or, how a character might use those biases against others. Without sharing too much, she’s a fun, eccentric character: unconcerned in serious times and grim in the face of frivolity. She loves her adopted daughter, but there’s a shadow upon her that makes her uncomfortable when Tildy calls her “mother”.

Both of these characters formed rather quickly in my head, with the broad strokes solidifying almost immediately. The cottage, Garden of Dappledown, and Forest of Eddlweld followed a similar path, which includes their names. Dappledown was inspired as I described the dappling sunlight through forest trees. I believe it was the first thing I named. That a garden is the setting comes from my mother’s love of growing things. I also award myself bonus points for alliteration, which I have adored since I learned about it in elementary school. Eddlweld came as though someone whispered it in my ear. I’m assuming my subconscious took “wald”, the German word for forest and turned into something rhythmic. ED-el-weld.

Who really knows. Brains are also weird.

For years, the cottage was a combination of well-defined rooms and vague allusions that other rooms existed. And it read just as half-conceived as it sounds.

Eventually, I needed to sketch out her home to help me keep track of scenes and movements through the cottage, but also because it made the place more real. It gave form to the formless, which gave me reference points for my writing. It’s how a cottage transformed into a “never-ending warren of small yet cozy rooms” and it inspired one of my favorite passages in the book.

Tapestries, old and woven new, billowed in her wake, while knotholes displayed curiosities and oddments. Stonework had been cunningly laid, in hearth and arching doorframe, fashioned to give the appearance of bark or other natural growth. Sometimes, she imagined the slow petrification of the house, but mostly, she liked to think it worked the other way: the cottage’s living wood was healing itself, all wounds lignifying the foreign materials that had dared invade.

Here and there, potted plants and slender treewisps filled niches in the uneven walls, and feathered ferns sprouted from cracks, their roots filling spaces like mortar. As a young child, Tildy believed the witch had simply opened the door and windows and invited the Garden in.

–Chapter One: Spring in Dappledown

Here’s something that came very late in the process (like, after I thought the book finished, and I was working on a synopsis and doing some marketing). I made the Forest of Eddlweld haunted. Some variation of that always existed in my head, but I’d put little effort into exploring that. However, due to Reader response to “she lives in a haunted forest”, I fleshed that out more. Within the last month, and with the help of my wife, I now have a reason for the haunting. I’m quite thrilled about exploring that in the next book. More to come on that in a future post.

One last thing before I wrap up this long, behind-the-scenes post. This chapter was crucial in setting up the first book for The Lost Prince. Everything from structure, tone, and setting to repeated phrases or visuals. I’ve not read of an author using this in a series, so maybe I’m on to something special.

Finally, many Trusted Readers pointed out a number of fun things in this chapter, such as the onomatopoeia of wind chimes that “clitter-clootter”, the nagweeds that warn you against bad decisions, the morose crawling grumpus plant, and a number of other intriguing/amusing/whimsical details. Very early on, details like this came to life and set the tone of the book, and it became my guidepost for the entire story.

I could say plenty more about writing this chapter, but I think that’s enough for now. Thanks for reading – I hope you enjoy Chapter One – Spring In Dappledown.

Mike

---

---