Here's the beginning of what's currently called Desert Magic.
And a blurb: Archaeologist Callie McKenzie is following a dream of finding a legendary city so completely lost to time that even its name is forgotten. She and her team have definitely found something in the desert, but the dig is plagued by strange and unexplainable events. Callie is drawn to Kavita, who says she's come from the University of the Magreb to be a consultant, but she isn't what she seems.
Kavita is the guardian of the blessed city, immortal but bound to protect it forever. The dig is her worst nightmare: if the city is excavated and its treasures taken away, she'll die. She'll do anything to keep that from happening.
As the dig progresses and Kavita becomes more desperate, can she find a solution that will save the city and her life without betraying the woman she's falling in love with?
Prologue
Majeed did not like the oasis. He told anyone who would listen that there were bad spirits about. He could smell them, he said.
None of the others paid him much attention.
Kavita certainly did not. The only smell she cared about was that of cooking meat, which was nowhere in evidence at the moment.
Kavita was an orphan, eight years old and small for her age, with a talent for finding trouble, or so everyone told her.
All the other children were with their mothers. Kavita tried to find a place to rest, but Golnar shooed her away from her tent, and Laleh was still angry about the camel dung incident. So she slipped away to be alone. No one ever noticed whether she was around anyway.
Before long, she had wandered out of sight of the tribe, into the valley formed by rock outcroppings. It was wide and pleasantly cool. A few plants dotted the ground.
Kavita liked this place. She hoped they would stay a while.
She pretended the valley belonged to her. She would build a palace right over there, and it would be the most beautiful in the world. People would come from everywhere to see it, and she would only let in those she wanted.
She sat in the shade of a small tree and pictured her palace, herself seated on a grand throne, turning away everyone who had ever been mean to her.
That was fun for a little while, but she got bored fairly quickly and started exploring again.
Sun glinted on something in the little patch of grasses, something silver and gold and green. A charm of some sort, a silver face with a golden halo of sunbeams, or flames, and emerald eyes. It fit perfectly in the palm of Kavita's hand. She held it so it caught the light. The gemstone eyes sparkled.
Then they blinked silver lids.
Kavita almost dropped the charm. The little slash of a mouth opened into an O, and smoke rose out, thin black smoke that twined about her head. She wanted to run, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. The smoke turned as green as the charm's eyes and formed the shape of a man—a man twice as tall as Kavita and nearly three times as wide. A djinn. He clamped his hands onto Kavita's shoulders and lifted her up to eye level.
"What are you?" he boomed. "A mouse?"
Kavita shook her head, fighting the urge to try to squirm free.
The djinn chuckled unpleasantly. "I think you may be. But you have freed me, little mouse, and for that you get a wish. Make it now, for I haven't all day."
"I want—" Kavita squeaked, and hated how scared she sounded, but she was still hanging in midair. "I want," she said more steadily, "a home."
"Ha! Never be less than thoroughly specific!"
He dropped Kavita, clapped his hands, and vanished in a puff of black smoke, still laughing.
***
Kavita didn't know what had happened at first. She went back to the camp, but when she tried to talk to anyone, they backed away from the sound of her voice, making warding-off signs.
They couldn’t see her.
She eavesdropped freely, trying to learn what they thought had happened to her. No one mentioned her at all. It was as if she had never existed.
Soon, the tribe made ready to move on.
Kavita crept into a tent after almost everyone was asleep and hid inside some blankets. She still didn't quite trust her invisibility.
She slept for what felt like half a heartbeat; then someone blundered against her hiding place and jolted her awake. Morning already.
She managed to steal some breakfast before the day's march began. Then she walked along just behind the caravan. Even if no one could see her, the animals could still smell her, and they wouldn't let her near.
She kept pace fairly easily, wondering whether she would ever become visible again. She still hadn't heard anyone say her name. Did she even still exist? She was starting to fear she'd been wiped out of everyone's memory, scoured away like writing in the sand.
Two days passed like that. Kavita slept when she could, which was not often, and tried to grab whatever food others had left, but she got barely enough to keep her stomach from rumbling. By the third day, she was so hungry that she walked right into a tent and ate almost all of the dinner leftovers. The rest she stuffed into her pockets. Then she curled up in the corner and slept, not caring if anyone found her.
No one did. The sounds of the tribe breaking camp woke her the next morning.
Another day of walking. At least Kavita had a little food now. And it seemed as if the animals could no longer sense her, or had gotten used to her, because they didn't startle any more when she got too close.
A cart drew even with her and passed. Within, she saw Golnar, with her son and daughter. Kavita had played games with them, had eaten at their camp fire, slept in their tent. Now, if she tried to talk to her friends, they would shriek and hide their eyes.
But she tried to keep up with the cart anyway, making a halfhearted game of it, though she knew it was hopeless and would do her no good even if she could stay near them.
Cold seized her, sudden and complete cold like falling into icy water. It knocked the breath out of her. Her vision fogged over, went wavy, then black.
She woke in a shivering huddle on hard ground, surrounded by unfamiliar sounds. Cautiously, she uncurled.
The tribe was gone.
No, she was gone from the tribe. She was back in the valley they’d left behind days ago--nearby was where she’d built her imaginary palace.
Please save and share this info where possible. This report has since been removed by Amnesty International due to legal threats of libel from JK Rowling. This information is no longer easily accessible.
There’s a quality that certain books/movies/TV shows have that leads me to say, “Yeah, I can see people making fanfiction of that.” It’s something to do, I think, with how tight the story is, how much feels open-ended or like it could be elaborated on.
Something like Breaking Bad, for example, has low squiggability (that’s what I’m calling this quality). It’s tightly written, the characters are consistent, there’s little left to interpolate or extrapolate. Obviously, people DO write fanfic of Breaking Bad, but it still has a low squiggability score. Whereas something like Supernatural has a high squiggability score. Fantasy and science fiction often have high squiggability scores. This suggests squiggability could also be related to worldbuilding and potential for people to borrow a premise or setting.
And sometimes you’ll read or watch something and you’ll say, “Ah, low squiggability,” and then you’ll open tumblr and find out that everyone else seem to think its squiggability was very high indeed.
and to the children in the notes saying we need this fucking baby talk to get around censorship online; there's been no credible evidence that any site other that YouTube (which will only demonetize your video, ftr) will actually censor or hide content that include words like rape, pedophile, gun, terrorist, etc. etc. and even if we take as a given they were (which, again, they are not), do not fucking comply in advance, you absolute fucking coward. and ESPECIALLY do not comply by altering your real life fucking vocabulary. don't let the technocrats dictate what words you say holy fucking shit dude!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had another client today get confused and upset at how I labeled their final file.
(If you don't know already, I'm a graphic designer)
The filename was something like "ProjectnameFNL-BLEED-DIE.pdf"
I also named the email "Projectname Final File - Bleed & Die"
Now, for the non-designers out there, a bleed is how you get the picture to the edge of the page in a document. You can't just print an 8.5x11 page in that situation, you have to print a larger page, and trim it to 8.5x11, and that overprint that you cut down is called the "bleed".
Die is short for dieline. If you are printing something in a different shape than a cutter can make (basically anything without straight lines) then you need a die. A die also helps trim things a lot faster, some can do a hundred sheets at a time, as opposed to manually doing it (which I'm not even sure how you'd even do that)
In this situation, I was making a box. They are notoriously tricky, but I've done a bunch before. And the person I was dealing with was new, and she had to send along the final approval to her boss.
She wasn't rude, but was clearly uncomfortable in our meeting today. I really had to explain it to her, and said that these were industry standard things and her printer needs this info. I also have worked with her boss before and absolutely knew that they'd understand the terms.
This is a kind of sample of what I mean. The dieline is the pink line. It is where things will be cut. You can see that it is a special shape that can't just be cut out regularly.
Everything blue outside the pink line is the bleed. you won't see any of that in the final folded box.
And the white lines you see are just the fold lines. They are usually part of the die line, but have a different process to use them.
So yes. I had a client today assume I was telling her to bleed and die, and I had to explain that it was just print terminology and I'm not a psychopath.
