This is a visual of the climax of my YA novel, The Spell.
I’ve just completed the final revision before I send it out to eagerly awaiting publishers, (maybe not the ‘eagerly awaiting’ part)
I created this image in the Painter app on a Samsung Galaxy Tab A with Stylus.
The Spell
…is the story of young Averil, third daughter of Doft the Mender who wants nothing more than to study at Zoff Academie of Magicks, but she doubts that she has talent enough.
Worrying about having talent enough is something that almost all creatives do. They have a love/hate relationship with it. If you are like me you’re greedy for talent, you can’t have enough of it, but then someone says to you, “You’re so talented.” How does that make you feel? Pissed off.
Why? Because you’ve been breaking your butt on this stuff. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve been bleeding from your eyes, and your fingers are nubbins and you’re husband things you’re the creature from the black lagoon because you haven’t showered for so long, and…
You see how it is.
Talent is Real
I’m not going to tell you that talent doesn’t exist and that anyone can do anything if they are willing to work hard enough. A little common sense and a quick look around makes it obvious that everyone doesn’t have the same abilities. And that is fine. I tell you that’s how it should be. Homogeneity is not what we need in the world. We need people with differences. Trust me, the world works better that way.
But if you have a crazy, burning need to make magick anyway, no matter that the world mostly doesn’t care, then do it. Do it! You have talent enough.
As did Averil, in the end, because when she thought about it, even a little talent could offer help to a dark world. Averil does make it to Zoff where she finds that a terrible creature is eating the hearts and minds of the students. Someone has to save them.
They, all the students, were giving up, one by one. Was she going to be like the rest? No, she couldn’t give up, even if all she ever managed was one small spell that somehow lightened someone’s load. Perhaps she couldn’t light the world, but wasn’t there still value in giving light to just one?
These be hard times. We need light. Go forth and create it my friend.
Eve Barbeau 