Battling depression for most of my life, reading a depressing story is the last thing I want to do. Having watched my mother slowly die when I was fifteen and then later in life finding myself in the position of being given up for dead by doctors, death is not a topic I treat lightly. Rarely will you find death in my stories and if you do, I handle it with as much compassion and respect as I can give it. You will never see me use the death of a character in a frivolous manor or just to add some un-needed darkness to the story.
If I find myself getting angry while reading a book, whether because of the actions of a character or for injustices being highlighted, I will stop reading. We are bombarded daily with anger and injustice on the news and online. Why read about it in a book?
I read and write fantasy that will transport me into another world or reality different from my own. I want characters I can identify with, empathize when things go wrong and share in their joy when things finally work out. Adding humor into my stories is also very important to me even though it is extremely hard since I haven't actually laughed in years. At my age, the depression has progressed to the point where I am either down a little or a lot, never on the upside. Again, this is all in an effort to create a world totally unlike my own.
If you're looking for a story where the main character is abused, ridiculed and beat down through most of the book, sorry, you won't find that here.
I may have shared this scene from my fan/fic a while ago but it's one of my favorites so I'm sharing it again. Thanks for reading.
Her thoughts soon turned sour
again. Blasted mood swings! She would find a way to make bloody Rand al’Thor pay for the difficulties she’d been
experiencing because of her pregnancy. It wasn’t totally his fault but she
would make him pay regardless. It was also entirely possible that her mood was
being influenced by the pain and despair seeping through the bond from
Birgitte. Something was eating at the soul of her friend and Elayne cared too
much not to try and help.
“Bloody ashes Birgitte! Will you please
sit down and talk to me. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words out
of you all day. I can feel the conflict inside of you and it will destroy us
both if we can’t find a resolution.”
Birgitte snorted as the faraway
look fled from her eyes. “Such language from a Queen. You’ve been spending
entirely too much time around soldiers Elayne.” Then in a quiet voice she
continued, “Especially a soldier like me.”
Elayne said nothing. The look she
gave Birgitte spoke volumes as she pointed to a chair opposite hers. She had
assumed the mantle of Queen now and would brook no more nonsense.
“You will not like what I have to
say Elayne,” Birgitte murmured.
“I don’t like seeing my dearest
friend suffer like this either, so I will just have to find a way to deal with
it,” Elayne replied.
She waited patiently as Birgitte
struggled with what she needed to say. A flicker of fear began to dance around
in the back of Elayne’s mind as the suspicion of what her Warder wanted flared
to life.
“You want me to release you from
the Warder bond,” she whispered. “Why?”
Taking a ragged breath, Birgitte
slowly walked over and sat in the chair facing Elayne. Hands tightly clenched
in her lap, she looked up and saw her tears reflected in the eyes of her
beloved friend.
“In all of my previous lives, I
have never had a sister. You have shown me what I never knew I’d been missing.
You have given me a precious gift Elayne. Not only by saving my life but also
the gift of the love for a sister. You will always have a special place in my
heart.”
“I don’t understand,” Elayne cried
softly. “I need you now more than ever. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
“I must.”
Springing up out of the chair,
Birgitte began pacing back and forth. She had never been comfortable sitting
while trying to marshal her thoughts.
“Do you understand what I am
Elayne?”
“Of course. You are Birgitte
Silverbow, heroine of the Ages. She who never misses what she aims at.”
“No Elayne. That is who I was and as long as I’m your Warder
that is all I’ll ever be. But that is beside the point. What I am is a hero tied to the Horn of Valere. I must be available
to answer the call when Mat blows the Horn at the Last Battle.”
Unable to hold back her tears,
Elayne struggled to control her voice. “What are you saying Birgitte? Do you
want to die?”
“No one wants to die,” Birgitte murmured as past memories of death rose up
to haunt her. “But I am afraid. I shouldn’t be here Elayne. Moghedien ripped my
soul out of the World of Dreams and thrust me into the world of the living. Her
intention was to see me die the final death and I would have if you hadn’t
bonded me, giving me a link to this world. I have felt the Pattern twisting
itself around trying to fit me in.”
Stopping at the side table where
one of the servants had thoughtfully left a pitcher of wine and a pitcher of
goat’s milk, she poured herself a cup of wine and after a moment of indecision,
poured another one for Elayne. The Queen wasn’t supposed to have anything other
than goat’s milk during her pregnancy but Birgitte felt they both needed
something stronger.
Returning to her chair, she handed
the cup of wine to Elayne and at her questioning look Birgitte smiled, “I won’t
tell if you don’t.”
“Why now?” Elayne asked.
“It seems that one of the
requirements for being a Hero of the Horn is sensitivity to the needs of the
Pattern. Maybe that is why so many of us are born over and over, each time
accomplishing something important. Gaidal and I have lived more lives than any
other because we are the most sensitive to the Pattern. Yesterday I became
aware of what the Pattern requires of me. Somehow I am now tied to Mat. If I am
not with him he might die and the Last Battle will be lost before it ever
begins.”
“Birgitte, I know that Mat blew the
Horn of Valere and he seems to have a certain flair for fighting but Rand is the one who is destined to battle the Dark One
and save the world.”
Birgitte leaned forward and gripped
Elayne’s knee, her braid of golden hair falling from her shoulder. “Think
Elayne. Even if that too handsome man of yours manages to seal the Dark One
back up in his prison, what then? Will the hundreds of thousands of Trollocs
just roll over and die? Will the Seanchen shake their heads, disappointed that
they missed the Last Battle, climb back onto their boats and head for home?”
“Of course not. We have one of the
largest armies ever assembled along with the greatest military minds of this
age. We will deal with the Trollocs first and then push the Seanchen back on
their ships whether they want to go or not.”
Bounding out of her chair, Birgitte
resumed her pacing. How to make Elayne understand? Her need to find Mat had
become almost painful. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. The worst part
was she knew she couldn’t do anything until he returned from his insane quest into
the Tower of Ghenjei
Her eyes glazed over as she
remembered the desperate, blood soaked battles many generations in the past. “I
fought and died several times during the Trolloc Wars Elayne. It took many
lifetimes before they were finally defeated. Your armies are impressive but
from the number of Trollocs rumored to be massing at the border, they will roll
over your armies like a storm flattens a field of young wheat. Your armies are
too fragmented with different loyalties and agendas. You must have one
Marshal-General in command of all the armies to have a chance. Who will you
choose? Toward the end of the war when all looked lost, one man stepped forward.
He rallied the nations together and fought with cunning and a certain amount of
luck until they finally drove the Trollocs back across the border.”
Coming to a stop in front of
Elayne, her body quivering with emotion, their eyes locked.
“That man was Mat.”
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