INTJ, Yes. Slightly Evil D&D Game Master, Yes.

My Detailed Driven Brain

According to the Myers-Briggs model, I have an INTJ personality type. This supposedly means I'm a tactical planner on par with Michelle Obama, Vadilmar Putin, and Friedrick Nietzsche.

I wish.

My brain is an intertwined mess of overly-formal rhetorical, gut instinct, and a sense of curiosity that would put my cat to shame.

The one INTJ trait that is so stereotypical me is my habit of getting caught up in finicky details. There's no such thing as overprepared or over-researched. (Little things are Murphy's favorite way to wreck my day.)

This does interesting things to my creative projects. On the one hand, I'll never run out of 'Overthinking' topics for my blog. On the other, I can't switch off that level of mental intensity. It's my base state.

I run D&D for Kid Brother and his friends. My original quests and content are every bit as overthought and off the wall as my blog topics. (Sewer monsters are actually protected by city ordinance. Kill too many, and the drains don't work.)

The obvious downside is that I've only got so much brainpower to go around. Currently, I need it for rewriting “Don't Fireball the Neighbors”  and dealing with the non-writer bits of my life. Something had to give.

Give The Brain a Break

Loathed to cancel game night due to lack of prep time, I bought a D&D module off RPGDriveThru. The monsters, loot, and math were already handled. I just have to weave the plot hooks into my main campaign.

Unfortunately, in addition to being short on brainpower, I'm short on funds. I settled for a 99 cent module with decent reviews. On the surface, Burning Plague was a decent set up. The player would fight kobolds in a mine, deal with three traps, fight the Kobold mid-boss, and fight the boss and his zombies. It had a classic Big Bad Evil Guy, an orc shaman, cursing the water supply as revenge for his people being driven from their ancestral homes.

I speed-read the module, then divided the material into playable chunks. I planned to do an in-depth read before each session. This way, my brain would have less to fuss and obsess over.

The first session went great, my players' blundered right into the kobold first-trap – a noisemaker/alarm system. That meant the Kobolds were warned, and next session would bring them to either the Kobold boss or another trap in the storeroom.

The doorway was rigged with a bag of flour with a ripcord. The warned kobolds would fall back until they entered, spill the flour and then pile into the half-blinded players. It was rated level-one, designed to be a just nuisance, not dangerous.

My Brain Thinks Otherwise

Sadly for my players, I'm an overthinker with a well-integrated memory web. I don't do random trivia. I group facts by their relationship to other facts. One detail - flour - prompts several adjacent topics - eating, kitchen activities, farming, chemistry.

During prep for that next session, the details 'clicked.' This nuisance trap could actually be lethal.

Flour is flammable. Flour dust is very flammable. My party used multiple light sources, one of them an open flame torch. A cloud of flour falling onto an exposed flame? Fwoomph

I don't think the game designers had meant for that level of realism. They actually put a switch plate on a pit-trap in a mine tunnel.  However, once I'd thought it, I couldn't un-think it. But... could I really risk a total-party-kill? My players still had their 'training-wheels.' (House-rule is if you're under level three, no death.)

No permanent death, my rules shark grinned. You made that loophole for a reason. Besides, everyone loves a 'Big Boom' a la Mythbusters. Remember the non-dairy creamer?

That sold it for me. Flour was flammable. Kobolds were stupid. The life of an adventurer was unfair, dangerous, and often brutally short.

What Happen In-Game

Next session, the heroes found their way to the storage room. However, my players weren't so gun-ho to step into a dark room. Maybe the noisemaker trap has made them cautious. Maybe they sensed their beloved GM had embraced the dark side. Maybe they were just worried about more kobolds hiding in the shadows.

So they crowded around the door, opened it... and threw the torch into the room!

I'm awe-struck by this point. I double-check the room's description... “ Heavy burlap sacks are piled atop one another in the corners of the chamber. A few have been torn open, leaving spills of oats and flour along the floor.” (Emphasized added.)

Long-story short, the floor caught fire. The kobolds panicked. The players shot the kobold with the ripcord... Fwoomph!

I used the smallest 'fireball' dice possible, and it rolled maximum damage. I made a DM call. Everything in that room was dead; The loot not in heavy barrels was gone; the party all crowded around the door could make reflex saves for half-damage.

Everyone got scorched, and the druid and her badger missed the cutoff. The druid went down to 3 health, and the badger was a crispy critter.

The players at the table were howling in laughter, right until they opened the barrels. Jerky, weak ale, melted cheese, fine wine, and highly flammable lantern oil.

“I put the lid back and start stamping out cinders!” One player yelled.

My players are now paranoid about an open flame. The crafter developed went as far as to develop a recipe for sunrods (basically a magic-glowstick) and is stocking up.

No Apologies

Most people don't overthink things to the extremes I do. However, details do matter. Trivia isn't trivial. I have personally screwed with several DMs with basic grade-school science.

What's baffling to me that I keep catching people off guard. Things like Mythbusters, McGuvyer, and BillNye aren't hidden. There are YouTube channels where people do dumb things with household objects. Yet this stuff this treated like lore from a forgotten outer plane.

I'm an INTJ dungeons master. I'm the demon in the finicky details.

Overthinking: Fairy Godparents

 

Rough Drafts and Rough Truths

As I work through rewriting 'Tales of Mundus,' I keep stumbling over my younger self's thought patterns and prejudices. Some of it is pretty random. However, there's several ideas that just need a little polish.

Recently, I rediscovered one of my characters - Maman Josephine, retired fairy godmother. This pint-size fearless woman embodies the best in all the 'Old Southern Gals' I've met. She homesteads, keeps goats, and is more than willing to smack a snooping dragon away from the gumbo pot with her ladle.

Maman Josephine doesn't do tiny wings, bubble travel, or sing Bibbty-Bobbity-Boo. There's actually some question to if there's anything 'fairy' about her. However, she is definitely a right, proper godmother for my world of Mundus. (She's more likely to shame the evil-step family in public than turn vegetables into carriages.)

In hindsight, I can see that my over-complicated childhood left deep marks on the idea of 'how godparents should behave.' Unlike many children, I KNEW the original purpose of godparents. It's not just a religious tradition, or  two of your parents friends that give you extra presents.

Godparents are the people who protect you if something happens to your parents.

Some Perspective

I remember serious talks with Mom and Dad about, “what do I do if you die?” Yes, four is a bit young to want to know about those things. However, thirty-three is a bit young for a daddy to develop colon cancer. I actually remember the paper signing that would give 'Uncle Art and Aunt Susie' custody of me and my baby siblings. We would not be orphans or street rats trying to outsmart evil adults (like half the protagonists in the Disney movies).

God-parenting wasn't something in a fairytale. I had real life people making real life plans. Those plans did not include leaving children to struggle. Art and Susie would fight tooth and nail for me.

In comparison, Ms. Bitty-Boppity-Boo, and even Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather were all flash and no follow through. Yes, they fixed the crisis with magic, but they broke the first rule. Don't leave the kid to flounder - not just physically, emotionally counts too.

Changed her name. Shattered her worldview. Left her crying in a dressing room
Not how you do a sixteenth birthday, ladies.

Good Drama vs. Good Parenting

As I grew, the media portrayal of godparents didn't get any better. There was Nickelodeon's Wanda and Cosmos, the magic vending machines. Sirius Black, from the Harry Potter series, also gives gifts, and then dies. The adults weren't doing their jobs.

The one gem I found was Mandy from Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted. She helps Ella find the loopholes in her 'gift' of obedience, negotiates with the step-family, and comforts Ella when things fall apart. She's a bulwark and advisor to a growing woman.

I've thumbed through the old stories, and Mandy is actually the closest to the original archetype. God-parents and helpful 'old folk' do not typical show up in the middle of the quest. They advise the hero at the beginning of the journey. They even the odds when the villain asks impossible riddles or sets impossible tasks.

Godparents are protectors. Mundus isn't as perilous as some stories, but competent adults are always scare. As a veteran, Maman Josephine has dealt with everything - from christening curses to the everyday nastiness of other people. A dragon trying sneak a taste won't make her blink.

At the rewrites continue, I don't know how Maman Josephine's powers and backstory will change. However, her character is here to stay.

After all, to a child in need, a loud woman with a lock-cutter and lawyer can be more powerful than a wandering mage with a knack for creating formal-wear.

No Birthday Cake? Have a Slice of Life Story

My Overly Eventful Birthdays

On July 15, 2020, I turned 30. Honestly, it's not much different that 29. I have a few more gray hairs... and a few more stories to share.

Now, this is not a ramble about morality and getting older. (That's actually standard stuff for an introvert.) This post is several slice-of-life stories, about birthdays.

I've had thirty birthdays. Some were perfect, some unremarkable, and even a few heartbreaking ones. However, this post is about what I call the 'Overly Eventful Birthdays.'

True Stories

My first Overly Eventful Birthday happen when I was a wee child. I don't remember my exact age. I was at that age were you basically invite your whole class over, or in my case the Sunday School.

It was summer backyard party. The parents put out a waddling pool, some water pistols, and then let us run around until we were tired.  We'd eat watermelon, rinse off, and open gifts.

On a hot, Oklahoma summer, chilled watermelon is better than cake and a nearby farm grew vine-ripe melons. It was definitely the highlight of the event.

So imagine, the party is at its peak. All the children whooping and bouncing around. One of the other mom's comes up to me. I snap to attention. (Birthday girl gets first slice you know.)

However, this lady is not bringing snacks. “I'm taking your mom to the doctor.”

...WHAT?! I dart to the house and scramble to find Mom. She's in the kitchen with a bloody towel around one thumb!

Now because I was a young lass, I don't have clear memories on what all was said and done. Just panic and confusion. Apparently, Mom had been struggling to cut through the watermelon. A heavy chop through the rind had also chopped through the pad of her thumb. It required stitches.

Needless to say, the party wound down quickly. Mom had not bled on the melon, but the situation was an appetite killer. This was my first Overly Eventful Birthday.

And a Crappy Birthday to You

Life continued. The milestone birthdays - 13, 16, 18, 21 – happened with various level of excitement. (I was a settled introvert by then. Big crowds and noisy events weren't my idea of fun.) After 21, I prepared for the long stretch of 'Boring Birthdays.'

Twenty-two through twenty-four were nice and quiet. The new pattern was diner with family and friends Unfortunately, January of 2015 rolled around, and the year went to hell.

2015 holds the record for 'Worse Year of My Life.' Dad died suddenly in the spring. That's was one of five deaths. My life was a stressful mess of funerals, moving, and, to top it off, medical referrals.

At twenty-four, I was past overdue for my first colonoscopy. Yes, at twenty-four not forty. Dad developed his first round of stage four colon cancer in his early thirties. (Oddly, enough it wasn't cancer or chemo that got him in the end.) Early screening is a must for me and my two siblings. 

 However, there are only a handful of doctors in Oklahoma and the waiting lists are insane. There are no options, you take what Scheduling gives you.

They booked me for July 15, mid morning. The day I turned twenty-five.

Colonoscopy prep is every bit as awful as you've heard. After a horrible night, I spent the morning dehydrated, with a pounding migraine. I remember griping about the illogical of the hospital expecting me to have enough urine to take pregnancy test, being rolled onto my side... and then I woke up.

That was my twenty-fifth. I left the hospital a foul taste in my mouth, a sore butt, a gap in my memory, and my left hand swollen like a balloon from the nurses digging for a vein. What a party. (However, the screening came back clean.)

After this 'Crappy Birthday,' I was ready to resume the 'Boring Birthdays.' Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Scheduling Department Strikes Again

What can top a colonoscopy on your twenty-fifth birthday? A major surgery on your twenty-sixth.

I spent my birthday in the same hospital as the last one, just a in different ward. Those four days are a blur of pain, drugs... and running for my life.

July isn't just a hot month. It's storm season, tornado season. One touched down near the hospital. I was beginning to think I wouldn't make it to twenty-seven.

I and the rest of the maternity ward took shelter in the operating rooms. However, since I was nether pregnant nor elderly, there was no wheelchair for me. Apparently a gal with a six inch, freshly sealed wound is left to fend for herself.

By some miracle, the forced march didn't make me spring a leak. It hurt though. I spend the rest of the drill on a metal folding chair, hugging my werewolf plushy to my stomach. I was done. Done with crazy birthdays. Done with stupid scheduling departments. Just done.

To date, 2016 hold the record for Most Eventful Birthday.

This Year

Finally, 2020 rolled around. There's been plague, shuts downs, riots, and a whole lot of uncertainty. Lots of kids can complain about 'Worse Birthday EVER.' I sympathize; even though it's not my Worst Birthday.

Life happens. It doesn't care about a mark on the calendar or how many laps you make around the sun. Life isn't 'tidy.' I'm just glad to still be living.

On my media, I mentioned this year wouldn't make the Overly Eventful Birthday list. I was geared up for a boring quarantine meal of take-out pizza with my family. However, once again, life happened.

I spent the morning of my birthday digging a grave for my Kid Brother's dying cat. 

I still got my pizza. However, then I had to drive to the vet with my brother and said cat. On the way back, I stopped in the two gas-station town of Haskell, and sent Kid Brother into the grocery store for ice-cream. I stayed in the car... and tried to stay causal about what was in the box on my backseat.

That was my thirtieth birthday.

DnD Night: Players Push. I Push Back. It Ends in Laughter.

In the last few months, the frustration and stress of COVID-19 lock-down infected every part of life. Not even my bi-weekly 'Dungeons and Dragons' session escaped. We are a group of five, crammed around my kitchen table. That's not CDC approved distancing.

To complicate matters, three of my four players live with person who has a compromised immune system. So it was with a heavy heart I called hiatus in March.

Now, we didn't just pack up our dice and sulk home. We TRIED to keep the game running. I mean, we live in the age of Discord and roll20, right? Well, most people don't live in rural Oklahoma with spotty cell services and even worse internet.

We ran a test session. It was awful; the lagging voice-chat and microphone feedback gave me a log-splitter headache. “Okay, next time, players use the text chat,” I growled, “I'll narrate and run flavor dialogue.”

Draconian move? Yes. However, the party was in danger of  “Rocks fall, everyone dies” via frustrated Game Master.

Running text was a good plan. However, I overlooked one important fact. Normal people (ones who aren't INTJ authors) are self-taught typists. Words-per-minute? Touch-typing? Try Hunt-and- Peck.

Also, without face-to-face interaction, it was too easy for one person to crowd out the others. Poor dialogue, interruptions, and using the wrong chat log. Now the players were frustrated. 

Those frustrated players turned a Scooby-Doo flavored mystery into “let's just torture the NPC for information.” Stunned, I wrapped up the session and declared “We'll need the battle-map for the finale. I can't run this online.”

Inside I was panicking. I hadn't designed this quest with a combat feature. (A rookie mistake, but, unlike Luke Hart, I've been a GM since January 2020.) It was supposed to be investigation driven quest. NOT a casting call for Murder Hobos.

The Plot that was Derailed and Blown Up

This was the setup. A brewery suffers unexplained crop circles on the night of the New Moon. Nothing is damaged, but the workers go to sleep and wake up to a property wide mandala of wheat, hops, and even the apple trees. There's undoubtedly magic at work. Setting watch doesn't help. The owners want answers.

Unfortunately, my players flubbed their charisma dice roles when dealing with the workers. They also only investigated one of the three farm buildings and missed several clues. I all but threw a key NPC witness at them. Two satyr 'frat-boys' with bottles of the brewery's missing cider. One ran off. They other, named Pete, they caught. However, things just spin further off script.

Pete was intimated into admitting that he knew the people behind the circles. Another failed roll and he clammed up, too loyal to sell out his friends. Apparently, that was the last straw for my impatient players.

As the cleric's player laboriously tried to type out his next line of questioning, the two chaotic-characters set their own messages. In character, they announced how they would kill Pete, very graphically. The moderate players freaked out, cut Pete lose, and shouted for him to run for it.

On one hand, I was glad not to narrate a torture session. On the other, the table was turning toxic in and out-of-game.

I ended the session and tried to figure out how to run the next session. With two sentences, the character were in danger of a Total Party Kill. On a simple investigation quest! Pete was running scared, to his friends - the friends who could rearrange several acres of plant life.

I pointed this out to Kid Brother. His face fell, “So we've gone from Scooby-Doo to the first thirty minutes of FernGully? I'm gonna kill those two idiots.”

“Yeah,” I nodded sadly.

Fixing the Problem and Getting Payback

You see, I'm not a master DM. I make mistakes. (There's a reason I have a no perma-death until PC level three.) I'd picked the 'landscapers' based on the cool factor, not the challenge rating. My little band of murder hobos was rated level one. Their opponents, a total combat rating of eight.

Ant, meet boot.

...however, part of me wanted to let this play out. Honestly, I didn't feel like retooling this quest. I'd told the players, “No Murder Hobos. No Evil Characters.” Burying someone alive or drowning them is evil. It would be just desserts that cruelty gets negative attention. (Ironically, those 'landscapers' are based on one of the most recognizable tricksters in English lore. They are KNOWN for nasty paybacks.)

So I compromised. I simplified their combat roles and took away some of the tricksters' higher powered spells. The encounter went from 'impossible' to 'hope for good dice.' I also added bait for my players.

“If you survive, you get a level” I said. “If nobody dies, everyone levels and gets a bonus. If you piss these guys off, it's on your head.”

Weeks later, we gathered in my kitchen. I was ready – stats blocks, art clips, even a playlist. Spurred on, my murderous players once again surprised me. They actually investigated! They figured out that the land was being saturated by natural magic. They found traces of memory-modification on the night guards. They transplanted some bushes to pots to see if the magic would still work.

...then they dug lethal pit traps around the property. (I stopped feeling guilty.)

Murder Hobos Versus.....!

Picture it. A moonless night. Two fighters, a cleric, a druid, and the badger familiar hiding near the center of the circle. Listen. Check your blind spots. Roll your dice.

From the tall grass steps a satyr, not Pete, his friend who got away. Watch the token on the board move turn by turn towards the trap. Roll the dice. The half-orc hears a buzz like a humming bird swooping past. Hold position. One more turn and the satyr will be on the trap.

“The goatman walks into the center of the trap... and nothing happens.”

WHAT?! Everyone turns to the druid's player. “What's wrong with your trap?”

“Nothing,” I interrupt. “She used a straw blanket, covered with leaves and grass to mask it. Anything heavy than a badger would fall right through.”

“So why didn't he fall?”

I smile, “Why indeed. Roll a listen check.” Dice clatter.

The grasses behind you rustle as the figure of that same satyr steps into the open. In the dim light you see something small ridding on his left shoulder.

“Hey, assholes,” he bleats, “This one is for Pete!”

Smugly, I tap play on my music app. Lindsey Stirling's violin sings "Roundtable Rival' and I finish, “Everyone, roll will-power saves.”

The Fae were on the move.

 

The satyr over the pit melted away into wisps of magic. The real satyr smirked, his ears blocked with cotton and wax, as the grig, a tiny cricket fairy, on his shoulder played a song of irresistible dance. Finally, a pixie archer dropped her glamour. She carried magic arrows of sleep, and was the distraction for two more pixies to circle in close.

Lady Luck had abandoned the party. Three fairies with bee-sting arrows and a fiddler brought them to their knees.

Meanwhile the players laughed and groaned. One actually danced along with the music as his character missed turn after turn. Kid Brother grumbled, realizing just how on-the-nose his 'FernGully' comment was.

Combat ended with one lucky character and the badger familiar snoozing in the grass, the rest in thrall to the music. The pixies then took to the air over the useless trap for one final bit of magic. They began to dance, and the land came alive.

Come morning, three exhausted characters collapsed in the middle of now lush farmland. I explained that a fae promise carries down the generations. If they had investigated the brewery building, they might have found a tiny hospital bed. If they had talked with the farmer's annoying child, they might have learned the land's history. (If the fairies hadn't watched them dig that pit and sent the real satyr instead of an illusion, blisters and wounded pride would be the least of the party's troubles. Fae blood feuds carry down the generations.)

Ending Thoughts

In hindsight, there were things I should have done differently. Kid Brother has a wealth of advice, solicited and unsolicited. Nevertheless, the night was a roaring success.

The players and I are still learning how to play together. I have three RPG rookies and one hyper-intelligent geek. That's a very different learning curve.

When I write a quest line, the goal isn't to do something YouTube worthy. The goal is for everyone to have fun.

Our outside lives are full of frustrations, setbacks, and even tragedies. I can't fix lock-down. I can't fix their housemate's immune system. I can barely keep everyone civil when they play.

However, that night ended in laughter and excitement; our previous frustration left behind. This is why I play DnD.

They say laughter is the best medicine. Regardless of your health, I hope my readers receive a full dose from this tale.

Video Games, Bad Model for Crisis Survival

As an overthinking introvert, I deal with scary things by making plans. (See "In Case of Monsters.") When I learned about the Black Death and Ship Fever in high school, I was scared. I made plans.

Fast forward to 2020 and you'll find me dealing with the newest plague. I have toilet paper, fresh vegetables, and a reasonable level of anxiety. I've done everything I can do to keep the people around me safe and sane. My action plan is solid.

However, what really worries me is other people, using bad plans. This virus is scary enough without people acting like characters in a video game. That is a really bad action plan.

How are people behaving like video game characters? Well, here are the highlights.

Take all the Shinnies

In video games, you take everything that's not nailed down. If it is nailed down, you look for loose boards. Players are encouraged to horde supplies and rare items, 'for future use.' Unless you buy that awesome gun, spell, etc., it just sits there. Or worse, the items will be cycled out by the computer's code. YOU won't have access to it, ever.

In real life, goods flow. Unless there is a widespread infrastructure collapse (I have a plan for that too), people will make, deliver, and sell more toilet paper. You can afford to leave some behind for others.

In a crisis, having a massive stockpile is actually dangerous. People get frustrated and jealous of your garage full of toilet paper. It's not fair you if have a lifetime supply and they're stuck with tamale wrappers. What the people in striking distance think is important. They are in striking distance.

Reputation Score

Games can't code how reputation works. You can hide illegal actions - fudge moral alignment. This is mainly because Non-Player Characters (NPCs) don't network and gossip. Your alignment and its consequences are updated by the game's maths. Rude to a farmer? Got sticky fingers? Just play the numbers and they'll keep selling to you.

In real life, people have long memories and love to gossip. Reputation has uncontrollable ripple effects. It's not just what you did or said - the listener's standards matter. A funny prank in one group maybe be an inexcusable sin in another. You have to be mindful about that.

In a crisis, people don't want to be around risky people. Not just 'can they shoot straight risky'- emotionally risky. A toxic group will get you killed as fast as a zombie horde. Reputation as hard/soft, polite/caustic, straightforward/wily, and selfish/selfless all help people gauge that risk. The skills and supplies you offer will only take you so far.

Build a Castle, Be King

 In post-apocalyptic games like Fallout 4, you build a base, then manage it. It acts as storage for your favorite loot and companions. You make all the major decisions, resource allocation, defenses, decorations, and morale.

In real life, this is called micromanaging. It is stressful on the managers and the 'minions.' There's also the problem that real life people aren't passive/dumb NPCs. This system is only as stable as personality cult, or a dictatorship.

This problem worsens during a crisis. Even if you manage to pull off that 'iron fist in a velvet glove' dictatorship, there are new problems. You can't be everything to everyone. Trying to juggle multiple areas will lead to burnout. Communities work by people sharing the load.

What's Missing

Many people talk about crisis readiness in terms of emergency supplies, tools, and training. I have carried a filter mask, hand-sanitizer, and a water filter in my car for ages. I can cook a whole chicken, tan a cowhide, change a tire, fix drywall, and shoot a gun.

However, the hardest and most vital skill for a crisis is to trust other people. 

COVID-19 scares people because you're only as 'safe' as the sloppiest person you've met. Someone can accidentally infect you. The danger is real.

However, if as a community we collectively wall ourselves into little quarantine bunkers, we still won't survive. The grief and loss are real. Other survivors will remember the kindness and cruelties of their neighbors. 'No man is an island.'

It's time to stop acting like players in a zombie-shoot'em game. Instead, take the risk to be kind. 

Yes, money is tight, jobs are uncertain; however, there are needs you can meet.

Hospitals need blood. The elderly and at-risk need people to drop off medications and groceries. (Your neighbor may need a roll of toilet paper.) It's okay to be scared, but don't claim you can't help. Even if all you can do is Tweet funny cat pictures, do something to push back.

Q&A with Sarah Soon

Special Update!

My lovely writing coach Sarah Soon is hosting an authors showcase on the 14th. I'm taking part in it. This also means on the 15th I'll be in introvert burnout mode. However, all 5-ish of my followers don't deserve an empty month.

As part of the event, I did a Q&A for Sarah's blog. It talks about my work in progress Don't Fireball the Neighbors. It has been reposed here for your viewing

Special Content!

Remember that Mary Poppins drawing from last month? Well, Mrs.Soon managed to coax another sketch out of me.
Below is a self-portrait with my two main characters, Celebramar the dragon and Leon the wizard.

Celebramar, Author, and Leon

Q&A with Sarah Soon

1. What inspired you to write your WIP, Don’t Fireball The Neighbors? Share briefly how it came about.

Leon, Celebramar, and the world of Mundus started as an oral story I told to my kid brother. As I grew, the stories grew with me. Before I left for college, I had five short works. Life then got complicated.

Skipping over the traumatic back-story, I now want to become a paid, published writer. However, the older stories aren't quite a series. There's lots of inside jokes specific to my family and childhood. That means rewrites. Lots and lots of rewrites. Somehow ended up writing a brand new pilot story. Don't Fireball the Neighbors is the story of how Leon and Celebramar met.

2. You’ve shared on your blog that growing up, your parents encouraged you to read, re-enact scenes from your favorite stories, and write. How did your childhood spur your desire to write stories as an adult?

Truthfully, that the desire never stopped. Stories have always meant safety for me. As a child, I was very bright, but very socially awkward. However, through stories, I could see different ways to behave and act. Make-believe isn't just escapism, it can be a learning tool.

Also, telling stories, was much, much easier than “just get out there and play with the other kids.” I didn't have to triple check my words and tone. The tale had already picked them out. Listening to other people's stories was easier than voicing an opinion on clothes I didn't like or a sport I didn't play.

I socialize by telling stories because I've had years of positive reinforcement from it. I use the written word because it translates my ideas better than me trying to speak or draw. Becoming an author is just trying to turn a lifestyle into a career.

3. What’s a major factor to writing for Middle Grade readers vs. Young Adult readers?

Officially, the difference between the the two genres are how romance, profanity, and violence are shown. I don't cover those in my work. Instead I touch on fraud, prejudice, and bureaucracy. It's hard to use some these themes without draining all the whimsy out of Mundus. (Readers that come for light entertainment don't like it when you soapbox at them.)

Also, I don't know if I can get away with putting 'grown-up' issues in the background of a Middle Grade book. I doubt it'll be an issue for my preteen readers. However, I worry that the parents of those preteens won't buy my work because how I present these issues offends them.

3. You’ve got intriguing protagonists in your WIP, Don’t Fireball The Neighbors. Tell us about your two main characters especially with the Middle Grade reader in mind.

Celebramar is a large dragon with a larger appetite. Normally, he has a “live and let be” view about humans. However, they won't let him and his pile of treasure be. Imagine someone swiping the quilt your grandma made and sell it at an antiques auction. Celebramar's patience is about to go up in smoke.

Leon is a wizard who wants to open a magic items repair shop. He would be happy to spend the rest of his life sharpening enchanted swords and patching flying carpets. Instead, Leon is stuck as an unpaid handyman in a half-finished frontier town. Shortages abound and the townspeople are getting frustrated. Leon's weary of demands to “just magic it fixed.”

4. Madeline Engle said, “You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” What is the main lesson you want your MG readers to take away from this story?

Without spoiling too much of the plot? Basically, walking away is sometimes the better option.

Both Leon and Celebramar deal with several 'rude' neighbors. Both main characters have the power to be very dangerous. Leon is a professional wizard. Celebramar can literally spit fire when mad. However, setting your problems on fire isn't always the best way.

5. What do you have next after you publish this story?

Take the criticism and reviews with a grain of salt. Focus on the next story.

I want to expand on the world of Mundus. So I'm actually rewriting that first oral story. Celebramar and Leon will visit the big city... and Celebramar will mistake a zoo for a buffet.

Mary Poppins is a...

Prologue

Creativity and stress don't mixed well. My thoughts speed up, darting from topic to topic like a panicked bumblebee. It's all I can do to handle the non-writer bits of my life.  My productivity plummets.

This month has be plenty stressful. There's family and friend drama, paperwork/tax season, and my regular spring migraines - plus the cold damp is making my everything ache. I've done some proofreading on my WIP and a smidgen of networking. That's it.

However, even though I can't harness it, my brain is still running.  

Mary Poppins to the Rescue

On a particular wet and windy day, Kid Brother and I were making a marathon of doctor's appointments in Tulsa. It was an umbrella day. ...and Kid brother was doing his level best to keep me and the brolly from lifting off.

Naturally, that led to Marry Poppins jokes and then a bit of reflection.

(The following conversation has been summarized. Perfect recall isn't one of my gifts)

“You know,” I mused opening the car, “When I was young, I read those. I felt she came off a bit cruel, denying that anything magical happened. She holds the children at arms length.”

Kid Brother, who has wonderful recall for trivia, quoted, “'Can you imagine what would become of me if I gave my heart to every child?' She's trying not to get attached.”

“That's the Disney version?” I asked. In our house Disney is called 'The Mouse that Ate Everything.' Yes, they still produce some good stories, but the brand doesn't always adapt well. Mrs. Travers practically had to babysit the script. (Can you tell this is one of my pet peeves?)
As Kid Brother and I drove to the next stop, our conversation bounced around from Disney to Star Wars. ...then my mix-and-match brain made a connection.

“Mary Poppins is a Jedi!” I exclaimed. “She comes in, fixes things, the leaves for the next mission. She avoids attachment, has hidden powers, and can talk her way into anything!”

Kid Brother snickered, and I continued.

“She'd be a better Jedi than the Jedi Council! Think about how they raise younglings. Mary Poppins would have sorted Anakin out long before he fell.”

That had the both off us chuckling all the way home. Mary Poppins could fix anything. 
Mary Poppins vs. JarJar. Mary Poppins vs. C3P-O. Mary Poppins vs. the Emperor.

“This will be be your next update?” Kid Brother asked.

My poor scrambled brain latched on to this lifeline. Stress puts a block on my words. However, the muse was more than willing to grab a drafting pencil. Something was better than nothing at this point.

And so there's the Something.

Mary Poppins, with her parrot handled lightsaber

Done in various pencils on Card Stock.
Many thanks to my Gran and Pops for that first pencil set those many years ago