I am wild for anything you can reveal about Seeking Ever After!
Wow, Conor, that was fast.
But I am, of course, happy to oblige.
Seeking Ever After is my massive fairy tale mash-up novel that I started developing with @droo216′s help 18 years ago, started actively writing two-ish years ago, and finished (draft 1) in November. I am currently making the fairly major revisions necessary for draft 2, and am maybe a fifth of the way done with that.
The land of Fatala, where all the fairy tales happen, is guided by the Recurrence. Every few hundred years, without fail, the Stories repeat with a new generation, from once upon a time to happily ever after. But now, though the Recurrence is in the air, something is wrong. Sleeping Beauty was never cursed. Cinderella’s prince is a princess. Jack is not poor. Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother was raised by wolves. All across Fatala, in every Story, the Recurrence is failing in devastating ways, and if the fairy tale characters want their happily ever afters, they’re going to have to come together and find out why.
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a young boy whose future and fortune depended on selling a cow for a very specific price.
The sun shone down on the well-traveled path as he made his way home, a smile on his face. It was only just midday, and he was already finished at market. He whistled as he strode down the road and over the gently sloping hills and fields of wheat and corn and beans. His pocket was heavy with the morning’s success, and he couldn’t wait to get home and show Ma.
A tiny voice of doubt niggled in the back of his head, casting the slightest shadow on his cheerful humor. His mother, it whispered, would likely not be as happy with the morning’s take as he was.
But that was nonsense. Maybe he wasn’t bringing home exactly what she’d asked for, but really, she could hardly complain. What he’d gotten in exchange for that rotten cow was so much better than a measly five gold pieces. She’d be thrilled. She had to be.
He crested the last hill between him and the small cottage he shared with his mother. She was standing at the open kitchen window, watching for him. “The cow is gone, I see,” she called when she saw him, a wide grin on her face as she hurried out to meet him at the gate.
“Yes, Ma, just as I said. And wait until you see what I got for her!”
Beaming with pride, he reached deep into his pockets and pulled out his bounty, which he poured with careful precision into her waiting hands.
When she saw what he had given her, her face fell and she closed her eyes. “Oh, you foolish boy,” she said on a breath of a sigh. He felt anger bubbling up inside him, but he forced himself to remain calm.
“That’s twenty gold pieces,” he said evenly, nodding at the gleaming coins in her hands. “You asked for five.”
“Where are the beans?” she asked then, her voice harsh and tired.
“Two sacks in the pantry, last time I checked,” he said, pushing past her through the gate for the water pump to wash the dust of the road from his hands. “More in the storehouse, to say nothing of the east fields waiting for harvest. But if none of those satisfy, we can take one twentieth of one of these coins and go buy a month’s worth at market.” If he didn’t look at her, if he kept his focus on the water and the pump, he could keep the anger in check and avoid yelling at his mother. He didn’t like yelling at his mother.
“You cannot escape this, no matter how hard you try.”
“Escape what?” he asked, turning on her, his voice harsher than he wanted it to be. “Crushing poverty? Yes, I can. Look around you.” He threw his arms wide, indicating the farmhouse, garden, and ten acres of crops around them. “Famine and a plague of locusts could hit us tomorrow, and we would survive three years on the surplus we have stored. And with the money we have saved, we could relocate to town for the next three. You live in comfort and prosperity, Mother. Great-uncle Jerant ensured that you would when he left you the farm. Father ensured that you would when he taught me to care for it. And I’ve dedicated the last five years of my life to that legacy. And you want to give it up? For what? A dead giant in your backyard and a thieving murderer for a son?”
“It’s the way the Story goes,” his mother replied, sounding just as impatient as he felt. “The Recurrence has chosen you, and you cannot fight it!”
He looked around pointedly. “I seem to be doing pretty well so far.”
“Enough of your cheek, young man,” his mother scolded, a scowl on her face. “To bed without supper, and maybe that will be lesson enough for you.”
With a sigh and a pang of regret that he pushed aside, Jack closed the distance and put an arm on his mother’s shoulder. “It’s barely midday,” he pointed out, “and I have chores to finish and a wagon axle to repair. But I’ll eat a big luncheon and maybe I can go to bed without supper later tonight, all right?” He kissed her on the cheek and headed for the barn.
And you know, Conor, an important part of the revision process is getting feedback from beta readers, so if you’re really that interested, we can definitely talk.
