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We’re taking a close look at the twelve gifts, starting with the twins’ gifts, and then making our way through the poem:

The Lady Illusion gave us a set of twelve
Twelve children, twelve months, and twelve gifts as well
Inner and outer vision, levitation
Fire, water, transformation
Glowing, healing, communication
Singers, dancers, model makers

This month’s focus is Savannah’s gift: Outer-vision. Let’s look in Rose’s notebook for an introduction:

Outer vision is the ability to see through pretty much anything physical, unless it’s been guarded against the gift. Most people just say “seeing through walls.” It’s considered one of the magical basics, and it’s one of the two “vision” gifts, closely related to the rarer inner vision.

Savannah, opening windows just 'cause she can.

The gifted can guard their magic so no one else sees the windows they open. And others can guard against outer vision. Hm. Sounds like this could start a guard-war.

The high level of this gift is considered attainable. On top of opening windows, the gifted can “open doors,” and walk through walls. The flipside of this gift is closing things, which, like levitations flipside, is not used very often. In situations where dangerous magic needs to be cleansed, outer vision’s flipside can be helpful to close off the area.

Those with outer vision are usually good problem-solvers. They are insightful, quiet, and thoughtful, and often notice things others don’t. They aren’t quite on the same level as those with inner-vision—they’re a little less intense in both magic and personality. Their attitude tends to be more light-hearted and optimistic, but in a calmer, subtler way than other bolder gifts. Outer-vision is most closely connected to inner-vision and transformation. It is commonly symbolized by an eye, a mirror, or a pair of glasses.

Fun Fact About the Twelve Gifts:

In the study of the gifts, some believe each of the twelve gifts are linked, in a circle that looks something like this:

I suppose those arrows should be pointing in both directions, but this was a very quick scribble. It's a very basic representation of how each type of magic is related. Studying the types of magic connected to your gift will help strengthen and round out your gift. There is some debate amount gift theorists about which gifts are actually related, and if those relations can be summed up in a neat little circle. But this is a common way to begin studying "gift theory."

Click to covers to check out the series!

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A New and Growing World: Part One

1/28/2022

How the realm of Crossworlds formed, both in fiction and in the real world.

Hey, it's my birthday, and I'm...

I'm aware I posted this for my 30th birthday as well, because my past self was impatient and we both love Jenna. Sorry for the confusion. I am now actually 32.

So, as I’m another year older, and so is Crossworlds, let’s take a look back on how it formed as I did.

I began building Crossworlds when I was fourteen, though at the time it didn’t have a name—the world, or the book series. I wasn’t trying to write a series, or even one book, for a long time. I was just playing around. Eventually, play developed into storylines, and those storylines became linked. Those links became one book with a vague idea for a sequel, and an even more distant idea for a prequel. I was sure that was the end.

Until one day I was reading “The Subtle Knife,” and the simple thought, “I wanna meet these people,” went through my head. That thought set off a 20+ minute daydream that opened up the second half of the series. There were a few times along the way when I thought, “And that’ll be the last book, and that’s the end!” But now I know Crossworlds will never be over as long as I’m alive. It is my personal crisis to be able to balance the life of my book series with my actual lifetime.

Just before Crossworlds, I lived in another world, one I shared with my friends in middle school. It was called “Strangeness,” and it was, as it sounds, all about being weird. My friends and I made up stories, we drew maps (I only remember towns like Sugarville and Lemon Land), and enjoyed our weird world together. It was a shared world—everyone could contribute, and put cities on the map.

The odd thing about Strangeness was I knew it was a phase, and wouldn’t live beyond middle school. But in the distance, across a bridge from Strangeness, I saw a new world starting to form. This world was both 100% private, and 100% permanent.

I didn’t share. The few times I tried, it didn’t go well. Usually I’d just get talked over, by other, more confident friends who fully considered themselves writers. These were people who could pull ideas out of thin air, and discussed them like… Well, like they didn’t mean anything. I don’t like how pretentious that makes me sound. But for me, every time I brought up my world it felt like there were insanely high stakes. It wasn’t just some potential project I’d play with for a week and then drop for the next shiny idea—it was my entire life and identity.

The worst moment of attempted sharing was when I told my friends the name of my world. Yeah, it used to have a name. Basically, I was daydreaming on a car ride, thinking about what the world should be called. I thought about the “important” elements, which, at the time, weren’t very developed. I knew mirrors were commonly used, and that summer was the most celebrated season. So, I just mashed those words together into “Mirsuma.” And for a while, that was what I (privately) called the world beyond the Shadow Cave.

So, one day I was talking to a couple friends, and decided, for whatever crazy reason, to open up about this world. I said the name of it for the first time. And these two friends… Well, one of them said it sounded like the name of a disease. Not in a “hey, you shouldn’t call it that because it sounds like a disease” way, or in a deliberately mean way. No, she had just recently learned about a disease with a similar name, and she was excited to share what she knew about it. And then they both just… started talking about this awful disease and left me in the dust. I just sat there helplessly, trying to process the fact that my entire world had just shattered into pieces.

Dramatic, maybe, but I was a dramatic teenager. I remember crying about it to another friend later that day. I didn’t tell her why I was upset, I just remember repeatedly saying “it’s stupid,” while sobbing uncontrollably. And she’s like, “well, it’s clearly important to you, so it’s not stupid.” That was a sweet moment. And yeah, it was extremely important to me, but it was also pretty stupid, and I knew all of that. Still, it took months to look back at my writing, and address the question of the world’s name. Finally, I read “Faerie Wars” and decided my world didn’t need a name at all (the world in that series doesn’t have a name either). My world is just the magical world, and that’s enough. So, seriously, let’s never call it anything else.

So, from then on, Crossworlds developed privately. And there was a certain power in that. I had my little conversations with Ellie and Savannah through the mirror, and learned what they were all about. I spent hours on the top bunk of my bed with my orange cat Susa, staring into space, and filling notebooks with random story notes and dreams. It was something that was 100% mine, a wonderful refuge from the real world where I held all the power. There were times I wished I could share it, but I also knew that once it was out in the world, it could never be completely mine again. I decided to wait until I was ready to take that leap, and I'm glad I did.

I didn't try to share again until college, and not without a whole lot of peer pressure. But finally, I had some positive experiences. One of the groups I ran with liked to stay up late drinking, and the other group liked to have tea parties where I read my book out loud. I’m all about a balanced world.

Eventually I asked my boyfriend if he liked the name “Crossworlds” for the series. I wasn’t sure about it, because it sounded too similar to “crossword,” which I will never be able to say like a normal person again. But he loved it, and I soon grew to love it too. And he's been helping me grow my world ever since.

That's me and my love a few years ago. There was also the time he made me a Crossworlds cake. Yummy. You should also have some cake, 'cause it's my birthday. Let's have a virtual party. Hell yeah.

Well. I know I'm allowed to be a little self-indulgent on my birthday, but that felt like a lot, so I'll wrap it up. But to any other writers who get talked over, or fear sharing, I hope you got something out of this. You will find your support system, and until then, you can grow your world yourself, because it's YOURS.

Click the covers to check out my books! It's my birthday! DO IT!

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Gift Focus of the Month: Levitation

1/16/2022

We’re taking a close look at the twelve gifts, starting with the twins’ gifts, and then making our way through the poem:

The Lady Illusion gave us a set of twelve
Twelve children, twelve months, and twelve gifts as well
Inner and outer vision, levitation
Fire, water, transformation
Glowing, healing, communication
Singers, dancers, model makers

Ellie, levitating stuff in her room

Travis and Cassandra (also a levitator) with their tiny twin babies.

This month, it’s Ellie’s gift—levitation. Rose made a similar gift-focused series, so first off, let’s take a peek in her notebook:

The gifted tend to be optimistic and high-spirited, and their attitude is contagious to those around them. However, they can also be reckless, and don’t always think things through before making important decisions.

Yeah, that sounds like Ellie. She was a little disappointed to learn that her gift is considered on of the magical “basics,” along with outer-vision and the glow. It is a common gift, but a practical one, and Ellie’s perspective of it shifts when she learns it was also her mother’s gift. Both Ellie and her mother aspired to flight, which is considered the high level of this gift. No levitator in history has achieved this level of magic, but, optimistic as they are, levitators don’t take the word “impossible” too seriously.

They say there are two sides to magic, so what does that mean for levitation?

If I can open walls, I can close them. If Ellie can lift things up, she can bring them down.

That line might sound silly or devastating, depending on how much of The Mansion’s Family you’ve read. But, however it may sound, levitations flipside is just bringing things down. This can be used as part of the process of cleansing spaces of old magic, but most levitators don’t need to explore this part of their gift.

Levitators have a great deal of choice in life, as their gift doesn’t demand dedication the way some others do. Some choose to use it in their careers, while others just view it as a convenient way to get snacks without leaving the couch. Levitation is theoretically “linked” to water and glowing. It is often symbolized by a bird, a balloon, or wings.

Fun Fact About the Twelve Gifts:

What does it mean to be gifted? Your gift is considered to be the magic you’re naturally best at. Some people are born gifted, but for most people, gift discover occurs in childhood, usually between the ages of five and eight.

Click the Covers to check out the series!

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Writing is my Breath

6/26/2021

If life is meditation, writing is my breath.
The focal point, the clarity, the reason I’m alive.
Distractions come like a head full of racing thoughts.
As the world tells me it’s not enough to just breathe.
What should I be doing with my life?
I ponder other career paths I could have pursued.
It’s not too late to go another direction.
Because I should be bigger, better, and reach higher…
But why? I take a deep breath. I remember what’s real to me.
Even as I write this, I wonder, is that sad?
But who is telling me it should be?
I think the word “should” is sad.
It looks like a pouting toddler: “SHOULD!”
And this world will sometimes shout it in a resounding chorus.
“What do you want?” the world asks. “Just figure that out, and pursue it.”
I answer. The world says no, and asks again.
But in my own world, I have peace.
When I focus on my breath, everything is okay.
Everything else is a distraction, but that’s okay too.
I don’t have to fight against it so hard.
I can notice a thought, feel an emotion, let it come, and let it go.
And I can be distracted by pleasant thoughts as well.
There will always be distractions, confusion, and “shoulds.”
But if life is meditation, writing is my breath.

Some thoughts on the poem...

Okay, I’ve had this idea in my brain for a while, though originally it was “if life is meditation, Crossworlds is my breath.” I changed it to be less confusing and more relatable, but it’s still true to my experience. But holy crap, this was hard to write. The original draft of this is two solid pages of my brain spiraling in all directions, because when you’re writing about your anxieties and the world’s expectations, how do you not get swept away in those feelings? I suppose I wasn’t 100% honest, and this is why “Crossworlds,” and not “writing” is my breath. Still, this was in my brain, and needed to exist.
Anyway, if you are also a “writer,” I hope you can relate. If not, please tell me what your version of this is. If life is meditation, what if your breath?

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The Crossworlds Union is coming!

4/7/2021

This is not the cover. I don't have a cover yet. Just like I don't have a release date yet. Wait. Can you wait?

Every author dreams of their stories coming to life. But when dreams collide with reality, things can get dangerous.

Rose Channing has been through a difficult few years, forced to move from school to school fleeing a mysterious threat. Her writing is her anchor through all of it. Within the world of her books, she has control, and everything makes sense. Now, at the start of her senior year, Rose simply hopes to to successfully pass the school year, keeping her grades up and her head down, so her future might be brighter than her past.

Her plans of a quiet, friendless year are thwarted on the very first day. Her fantasies start to come alive in unexpected ways, quickly pulling her down an exciting and dangerous path between two worlds. The world she could only dream of all her life is real, and she is undeniably connected to it. The only question is, how?

While friendships and romances bloom, a greater threat looms in the distance. Whatever insights Rose may have into the magical world, they could be connected to whatever has chased her from school to school for the past three years. Can she and her odd new friends solve the mystery before these villains strike again?

Forget everything you think you know about Crossworlds.

I mean, I guess not literally everything. You might actually want a refresher. Buy Rose's books here! Yes, by the real Rose Channing! Click the covers! Do it!

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Wednesday Word: Another Mini-Scene and Picture

6/17/2020

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I'll say it again, I'm an author, not an artist! So this drawing is actually pretty damn good, for my lack of skills!

My girls are deep within the Mansion, now. This is another mini-scene from their journey:

They continued to explore the room, certain they would find a hidden way out. A large chair sat in the middle of the room, and sitting on its arm was a teddy bear. Its body faced the door, and its head was turned to one side. Savannah examined the stone toy, thankful, at least, that a toy was all it was, and so far, it didn’t look like anything living had been turned to stone. She didn’t voice her fears to Ellie, but everything about this strange house put her on edge. She wished they still had the means to reach June.
“Savannah, over here.” Ellie beckoned her to a door leading to a long, stone hallway. While most of the hall was the same stone as the main room, some of the doors had strange patches of redness spilling out onto the floor from beneath them. It wasn’t liquid, it looked like the floor was slowly changing color.
The twins opened the first door. Savannah jumped at the sight of the stone teddy bear looking right at her. “What?” Ellie said. “Wait… Is this—is this the same room?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, backing up. “Let’s try this one.” She tested the next door. This one had that strange patch of red beneath it, and while it felt like a warning, maybe it meant the door led somewhere new. Yet when she opened it, the girls found themselves looking into the same stone room.

They tried several more doors, all with the same result. “Oh come on!” Ellie said, slamming another failed door shut.
“One of these has to go somewhere.” Savannah tried to open a window in a wall, but nothing happened.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t look through the walls. It must be something about this house.”
“There’s only one left,” Ellie said. “What do we do if it doesn’t lead somewhere else?”
“I guess we explore the room behind it, no matter what,” Savannah said. “Maybe it only looks like the same room, but it isn’t.”
Ellie nodded, took a deep breath, and swung the door open. “I hope this is another dimension,” she said, stepping into the stone room again. “Same creepy teddy bear, same furniture… wait. Was that door always there?”
On the other side of the room stood a narrow, red door. “I don’t think so,” Savannah said.

Hey. You wanna know what's behind that door? I'm not telling. It's, um... Let's just say you probably don't want to open that door, actually. Maybe leave it alone? But I'll leave links to the books just in case you really need to know.

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Wednesday Word: Creativity with Age

6/10/2020

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When I started writing The Mansion’s Twins, I was fourteen. I dreamed of being a teen author, and getting praised for accomplishing so much at such a young age. But what motivated me was more than a desire for recognition. Of course I wouldn’t have finished a single book without drive, passion, etc. But I was also pushed along by a weird irrational fear. I was terrified that once I hit a certain age, my creativity would start to decline.

I’d hear people talk about how kids are “so creative,” and how adults just aren’t anymore. I even heard them say “scientific studies have shown” that it’s true. It scared the shit out of me that one day I might lose the magic of the world I loved, that one day it wouldn’t welcome me back, because I would outgrow it. I also had a more reasonable fear, of losing my young perspective. I wanted to write about teens while I was one, and wouldn’t have to work so hard to remember what it was like to be that age. I did my best to prepare for that, and kept a journal, which did help. But the idea of losing my creativity was horrifying and I didn’t know what to do with it.

Now, looking at it from the perspective of a thirty-year-old lady, well… The idea of our creativity declining with age is honestly kind of ridiculous. Back then I had an underdeveloped world that I knew was underdeveloped, but I had no idea what to do about it. The Eastern realm has it’s share of magical places, but now that I’m writing the next section of the series, the Southern realm has so much more. It’s so much easier now to create that magic, almost like experience in my craft has actually made me better, and not worse. Almost like gaining more life experience and emotional maturity has given my characters more depth. Hm. What a weird idea.

Also, the word “creativity” is almost too broad to define. Some scientific studies may have shown that adults are less creative in experiments about creative problem solving, because we get into habits, “know” what works for us, and are less likely to approach a problem in new ways. Okay, but that's just one facet of creativity. I only care about my brain’s capacity to grow my world, which is a totally different skill set.

On a slight tangent: Creative problem solving is probably the least creative aspect of creativity itself, if that makes any sense. It just looks at how to solve real-world problems. What about actually creating something new? I understand we measure it because it's more measurable than other types of creativity, but we should really think about what it means. Just because you're not a good creative problem-solver doesn't mean you're not creative.

Anyway...

I understand why I hear “kids are so creative!” so often. But they kind of have to be. They’re in school. Not only does their academic success depend on creativity, their sanity depends on it too. They have to be intellectually and emotionally creative, and they practice these skills constantly, whether they know it or not.

Creativity may start to fade when we no longer “need” those skills, or when we no longer make time for them. But that means it’s not “age” affecting our creativity, it’s practice.

According to a quick Google search, we’re at our most creative age in our mid to late thirties or early forties, which is way later than I thought. Because of the way we talk about kids, I thought by the time I was twenty-five I'd have nothing left. Now I'm finding out I haven't even peaked yet? Damn.

It's been nice to be able to give that fear a reality check. It was just this bizarre narrative about children being the ultimate imaginative beings that threw me. But we don’t stop learning just because school is over. I’m not about to lose touch with a world that is literally me just because some time has passed. And I’m not somehow worse off creatively now that I’m older, I’m actually a better writer now than I’ve ever been.

Don't ever let anyone define your creativity for you. You fucking own that shit. Just YOU.

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Wednesday Word: Imposter Syndrome

5/27/2020

Hi! It’s been a while! I hope you all are staying safe in these weird times. I’m still good, just kinda disappeared for a bit. I’m not going to make any more promises about how often I’m “going to” post, but for now (and I mean, literally right now, today), I’m back!

And I feel a little… weird.

So, I’m working on this blog about creativity, and if it really declines as we age, and… I sound ridiculous. I feel like I’m back in college, trying to pull an essay out of… the air. Once my dad was asking about my writing and for some reason he asked me if I ever write essays. I was like… No? Why would I even think to do that? Like, fantasy escapism and essays just don’t click together in my brain. But as I'm writing this new blog (which should be up next week) I actually felt like I was writing an essay.

And a while ago I was reading over old posts, and I just thought, who does this person think she is? What does she think she knows, about anything? I just sound weird, like, I sound like some thirty-year-old white lady... Oh wait…

So, I’m just having a little case of imposter syndrome, and I think I know how to get through it. I’m just hyperaware that I’m in front of an “audience,” even though there’s only like, two of you, maybe who read this (and I love and appreciate you both!). But I just get fixated on what sort of “image” I’m putting out. So, I’mma try to throw that out of the window and just get real. For a while I wasn’t blogging anymore because I thought, maybe I want to make videos instead. Especially for topics that tend to send me rambling, it might be easier just to talk instead of write. Then I just kept putting it off because I never had time. We’ll see. Maybe one day I’ll give it try. For now, though, I do enjoy blogging. So, for right now, we're back!

So, I do plan to be a little less censored (was going to say a little more uncensored... Now they both sound weird) to bust outta my imposter syndrome. So excuse me if I say fuck too much.

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Wednesday Word: Mini Scene + Picture

2/5/2020

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Okay, first of all, I'm an author, NOT an artist.

As the twins journey through the Mansion, they encounter some strange mixes of magic. This is an illustrated mini-scene of one of these moments.

The door opened into complete darkness. Ellie wondered if it was a transporter, but when she stepped inside, the floor was solid beneath her feet, so she decided it couldn’t be. They each lit a glow in their hands, and proceeded into the dark. The door closed behind them, and all they could see were their tiny glowing lights, barely breaking through the darkness.
“Look!” Savannah said.
“What? I can’t see anything!”
“There are lights up there!” Savannah stepped ahead of her and called, “Is anyone here?”
“I don’t see anything,” Ellie said, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, the little glowing lights came into view, green and purple like theirs, and drifting aimlessly through the hall. Soon other colors appeared as well, blue, pink, gold, silver, yellow, and orange, and varying shades of each.

Savannah called out again, “Hello?”
It reminded Ellie of being in the Shadow Cave, alone but not alone.
“The Storm must have caused this,” Savannah said.
Ellie agreed. It was like the glowing gift had taken on a life of its own. But just like in the Shadow Cave, as they walked through the hall, the girls began to adjust to the strangeness of the situation, even enjoying the company of the lights.