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Charity Blake became a nightmare. But there are far more dangerous monsters out there than her.<\/i><\/p>\nCharity Blake became a nightmare. But there are far more dangerous monsters out there than her.<\/i><\/p>\n
Train-wreck antihero Charity Blake thrives at being a winged avenger, but exacting vengeance takes as much from her as it gives. To retain the humanity she\u2019s fought tooth and claw to keep, she tries to walk away from her monstrous side for good.<\/em><\/p>\n With no sense of purpose and a lifetime of failures haunting her, Charity struggles not to fall back into old, murderous habits. Until she meets a little girl who is more broken than herself. Rose presents a new direction for Charity. One where they can combine their carnal abilities to rewrite a horrendous history of wrongs that have impacted so many like themselves.<\/em><\/p>\n While Charity revels in the idea of following a new path, Rose drowns in her own power as she tries to piece together parts of her life her mind has buried deep. As Rose unearths hidden truths about her past, her catastrophic abilities spiral out of control, threatening everyone\u2019s future. Overcome with debilitating grief and a world-altering rage, Rose becomes a danger beyond anyone\u2019s control. A colossal threat that Charity must stop.<\/em><\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Not only is this book a sequel to some shit that a few pretty scary producers were afraid of, it\u2019s even fucking weirder than the first one. There were *counts on fingers* 400 times that I thought who the hell do I think I am, writing this? It\u2019s too much. <\/em>Well, I\u2019m <\/em>too much. Henceforth, if my books aren\u2019t too much then they\u2019re not enough. I\u2019m not the first person to write a book with Hell as one of its top 5 destinations\u2014but I damn well had better be my own version of the best to do it. That means go bigger, go weirder, go the places nobody thinks of, and remember that the only boundary I need to know is the one I bust through like a hyena into a butcher shop. Or something.<\/p>\n You guys ever hear the story of Dr. Cicoria? He was an orthopedist, not like, an exciting doctor. He was in a phone booth when it was struck by lightning. Long story short, this foot doctor with no musical talent before the accident is suddenly waking in the night to write down the classical music he composed in his dreams. The guy goes on to become a pianist and composer in life. I read as many of these cases as I could find. To have unsurfaced abilities is pretty much the way of life\u2014but many of these folks showed no glimpse of interest <\/em>in the area during their pre-trauma lives. I fully subscribe to the old adage that we only use 10% of our brains. It accounts for all the glitches in our cranial Matrix(es). Like that time you dreamed of your aunt giving your cousin the same birthday present as you and then it happened, or d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu, or the ability to understand the new math. But I hadn\u2019t ever wondered what else <\/em>is in there. The brain is the depths of the ocean we can\u2019t reach. Anything could be down there. The buried possibilities are endless.<\/p>\n The question becomes, Is there something hiding in me? Something I\u2019m totally unaware of? What would <\/em>I become? <\/em><\/p>\n It\u2019s a simple guideline: Whatever the crucial point, make it worse. If the character coughed, she hacked until her next breath was a question, not an expectation. If she\u2019s freaked out by worms, she sees them everywhere\u2014in the scrollwork on her bedposts, in every bowl of Ramen, they\u2019re the eyelashes of the leering neighbor. Once this little girl, Rose, showed up in this sequel to The Harpy<\/em>, she became worse in every way. It\u2019s probably why I love her so much. Her secrets, once uncovered, don\u2019t free her\u2014they ruin her. She holds onto the worst and turns it on the monsters, the traitors, and the ones who tried to help but failed her alike. Her childhood wasn\u2019t traumatic\u2014it was good, healthy. Then destroyed. Then returned to her and destroyed again by her own hand.\u00a0 I give you a special kid, with a tragic backstory which destroys her future, and she orchestrates part of her own doom. So, you\u2019re welcome. *jazz hands* WRITING!<\/p>\n I know HOW to write an outline. I\u2019m actually pretty good at it, with college and all that. I try to start with an outline sometimes when writing a novel, but a chapter in I realize I\u2019m still learning what the book is about. It\u2019s like The Neverending Story<\/em> that way, but without killing the horse. When it comes right down to it, I can\u2019t create with boundaries. I have to construct the boundaries as I go because let\u2019s face it\u2014if I were good at following rules I probably wouldn\u2019t be a writer to begin with. Not to mention that every book I write has a different process to it. I don\u2019t have a formula. What the hell kind of response to our current world would it be if I wrote the same way all the time? The process has to change or the product remains the same. I can\u2019t grow as a writer if I do the same thing every time. And it\u2019s kind of a goal of mine to be able to stick to an outline someday. I wonder what that <\/em>book will be like!<\/p>\n I wrote Harpy 2: Evoloution <\/em>during so much stuff. Both kids home 24 hours a day. The therapy and doctors\u2019 appointments and filling of the prescriptions and trying to make sure they feel emotionally supported and get enough exercise and also eat. The over-the-top attempts at providing enriching experiences and celebrating the everyday things in life (I mean, at one point I even used the National Day Calendar to make up celebrations. There was a National Cake Day, that one was easy. But National One Cent Day?) I wrote this book while I worked my part-time medical supply warehouse job, which I loved\u2014but going out every day during the pandemic because I was essential still scared me. And while I was there, my kids were in the same place they were every day, all day. That scared me too. I never want to see my kids complacent. The ability to bring them to all the fun places we go or even to play with their friends was erased, leaving only me to fill their social needs. And be their gym teacher. Yet, I loved it. To have them with me was all I\u2019d ever wanted. Between March of 2020 and September I had not one moment alone in my own home. <\/em>Not one, and I am a person who needs to be alone sometimes. My struggle wasn\u2019t so different from so many others but what I\u2019m getting at is this: I wrote a book <\/em>in that time. Proving to myself that I don\u2019t need the alone time, the special spot on the couch, the quiet, the right background, the clearest space in front of me, or any of the other things that make me comfy as a heated throw blanket. No. These are things I enjoy\u2014but I didn\u2019t always write under idea conditions, and truth be told, I was happier without the ideal conditions. I love the urgency of writing ideas on post-its. Nothing compares to the stolen feeling of typing a few paragraphs when no one needs anything and it\u2019s just me and that laptop. The feeling that the book is always there, waiting for me to have a moment for it is intoxicating to me. A secret little world away from the chicken nuggets and bills. Writing isn\u2019t an event<\/em>, it\u2019s a presence. <\/em>That\u2019s the kind of enveloping sensation that makes writing my home.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Julie\u2019s a mythology-twisting, pizza-hoarding karate-kicker who left her ten-year panty peddling career to devote all her time to writing. She is the author of Running Home, Running Away, The Wind Between Worlds, and forthcoming The Harpy. Julie revels in all things Buffy, Marvel, robots, and drinks more coffee than Juan Valdez and his donkey combined, if that donkey is allowed to drink coffee. Julie lives in Plymouth, MA, constantly awaiting thunderstorms with her wildly supportive husband, two magnificent boys, and a reptile army.<\/p>\n Julie Hutchings<\/strong>: Website<\/a> | Twitter<\/a><\/p>\n The Harpy (free until 1\/20)<\/strong>: Amazon<\/a><\/p>\nGo nuts, you\u2019re an artist.<\/h2>\n
Acquired Savant Syndrome is goddamn amazing.<\/h2>\n
Wendig\u2019s right: Make it worse.<\/h2>\n
Pantster 4 lyfe.<\/h2>\n
I can do it in the house. I can do it near my spouse. I can do it while I mom. I can do it when everything\u2019s wrong.<\/h2>\n