I spent a good deal of time today considering what I would be blogging about tonight. Would I be expounding on my theories on why girls like vampires and boys like zombies? Would I enthrall everyone with my opinions on whether or not a werewolf should be manscaped (the answer, my friends, is no–what’s the point of being a werewolf if you can’t be hairy? He’d be shaving more often than I have to, and let me tell you, that’s a lot. I think Alcide on True Blood is as hot as the next girl, but honestly, manscaping? I would imagine that a manscaped werewolf would just look like the hairless chihuahua of the paranormal kingdom… And don’t even get me started on the point of being hairy from the chin up but bare from the neck down. Then, they would be larger versions of the chinese crested chihuahua, and that’s just weird, because let’s face it, those dogs are kind of creepy looking. Give me a hairy werewolf–and a hairy guy–any day). I even had a debate with myself over whether I should be blogging at all with a *self-imposed* deadline looming over my head.
But instead of these things (though the hairless werewolf thing is still preying on my mind), I was actually thinking of how surprisingly sad I am to see the saga of Alek and Maggie come to an end. I know that they will be showing up in the next books, but not as main characters again for some time. And over the last 10 months that they’ve been in my head, I’ve grown to love them. Let’s face it, I liked Maggie from the start, but I loved Alek from the moment I heard his voice in my head, before I put a single word on paper.
I remember those words very clearly. It was January, and I was sitting on the couch, contemplating what I was doing with The Silver Cord, my first book (a historical western), when an accented voice said in my head:
“Vampire. Incubus. Angel. Demon. I am all of these and none of these. I am Nephilim.”
Yeah, yeah, melodramatic–Maggie thinks so too. But no, he’s not a fallen angel–he’s an alien. Or at least half. He is, in fact, the product of the union between a son of heaven and a daughter of man.
I am strangely sad to see their story end. As I finished my final edits today (on paper, I still have to make the changes in the manuscript), I felt oddly… weepy. Still do, in fact.
Don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love Simon, the hero of Mystic, the next in the series. In fact, in the original concept of this story arc, Simon didn’t even get his own story, but I liked him so much that I decided his tale needs to be told too (as do the tales of Cash, Finn and Nikolai). But let’s face it: though I love Simon, I could not have conceived of a character so completely different from Alek. Simon’s not as broody as Alek, but in his own way, he is significantly darker. It will be fun for me to write his story. But I think a part of me will always miss Alek–even though I, as the author, know precisely what’s in store for both he and Maggie in the coming books. While their story is the second book I’ve finished, it’s the first I’ve ever pitched, the first I entered into a contest, the first to final in said contest, and the first I’ll send off to agents. I’m sure that it won’t be picked up by the first place I submit it to (though here’s hoping!), meaning it will be the first story I’ve written to be rejected. Hopefully, it will be the first story to be published.
It seems like a major milestone, like graduation. You’re happy that you’re done with school, but you’re sad to see this thing that has been such an enormous part of your life for so long end. And I get it that 10 months isn’t that long–certainly not akin to the amount of time I spent in college, that’s for certain–but in a way, I’ve known Alek and Maggie their entire lives. I know the traumas that shaped them, the desires they harbor in the secret spaces of their hearts; I know things about them that they don’t know themselves.
As I move on to Simon’s story, I will miss them.
I miss them already.