Well, I think I’m finally going to do it.

After years of fiddling around, drifting off to other causes, other creative crafts, I have gone back to my first love — writing. 

At least for this moment in time and space.

I have written two novels and part of a third about Gaia Borealis, a middle aged astralologist who travels to an alternate dimension to help the kingdom of Tinaria.

Ummmm, yeah. My heroine is not your typical heroine. She is middle aged, flaky, cosmic, and modern. (At least I hope she is.) She’s different — she’s older, settled down somewhere between astrology and astronomy, and clever in an  eccentric way.

Of course the premise sounds daft. But you know me. I am often daft. And this is some of the most creative daft writing I’ve ever done (I think).

I am going to do a final editing and find an editor and see if I can get it published. If not, I’m going to put it on Amazon. I mean — why not?

I’ve said this a million times. I tried years ago to get my first two novels out to the public, with little success. I probably didn’t try hard enough. Or whatever. But these novels are quirky enough that someone may think they’re bankable quirky and can be shared with the public. 

I am taking a big chance here, but I’m going to publish my prologue here and see what you all think about it. The feel, the mystery, the promise. Does it pique your interest? Nudge you to want to read more? You don’t have to be a fan of this sort of writing to share your thoughts.

 

SOOOO … ALL of you followers … let me know what you think. 

P.S. If you know of any editors who might be interested in this sort of story, let me know that too! You know me … always open to new experiences … and people ...

 

Gaia and the Etruscans

 

My name is Gaia Borealis.

I was told most introductions, most self-driven non-fiction recordings, start out with a name and an insight. Well, as you can see, my name is not of the usual variety. I suppose you could say the same about my life. Of course, doesn’t everyone say that?

I am about five feet six inches tall, with shoulder-length curly Moroccan hair and round hazel eyes held in place by a few wrinkles. I weigh – dear me, I don’t believe that is relative to this part of my biography. Let us just say I am neither stick thin nor robustly round, but just perfect for my age.

Spirit says I should record my experiences for posterity, and also that I record my experiences before I forget the details. I am not sure about the validity of either, but I have to tell you, it is hard to begin my story talking about the first forty-some years of my life. Truthfully, there is little to tell that would surprise or titillate anyone.

But all right – let us cut to the chase. I went through the normal rounds of high school, a bit of college, and held several jobs through the years, including working in a bookstore and as a hosiery salesperson. My mother and father are still alive, residing in comfort in Fort Meyers, Florida, and my older brother lives in a commune out in Colorado.

I’m not sure if that’s what you were looking for. I wonder if you can hear me sigh. I have written and deleted the beginning of this story a hundred times, wondering what is pertinent and what is bramble. But let it be for now. Let me grab my glass of Alopa and continue.

I was recently asked to become a part of the legacy of King Rexor of Etruria. Rexor is the name of the King. Etruria is the name of a city on the shores of the Tyrrhenian Sea on the planet Tinaria. (Tinaria, by the way, is the ancient Etruscan name for the god of the sky, a.k.a. Jupiter. Zeus.)

How do you like it so far? Oh, I know it sounds babbly brook, and perhaps it is. But believe me – no one was more surprised than I to be solicited by the Consigliore of Etruria to save their world.

Now, I know you are tempted to close this book and find something more … mmmm … middle-of-the-road, as they say, to read. After all, who wants to have to remember outer space names and places and such? Trust me, though. Soon the names and places will become second nature, and you will be brought along on a journey of a most extraordinary sort.

And once I get into the “meat” of the story – well, let’s just say it will keep you quite entertained. For the story I am about to share with you is the latest addition to the archives of the world known as Tinaria.

 

As much as I would like to say I have had a life just like everyone else, I did not. There were male and female companions, even a few good friends throughout my life on Earth. But I was also lonely, as I had a gift like no other, a gift that no one could understand. A gift no one wanted to understand. I don’t blame my parents – I wouldn’t want to bring around a child who claimed to have just had a conversation with Galileo Galilei either.

You see, I am an astralologist. No, not an astronomer or an astrologer. An astralologist. Someone who communicates directly with the cosmos on a physical level, so to speak. I communicate verbally with spirit guides, prominent scientists and philosophers, and others who are pursuers of Conversation and the Arts.

How could such nonsense be a part of my daily routine? How could I believe in things that science said did not exist? I don’t want to get lost in the cosmic or religious inferences of such claims. For the moment, let’s assume that you, the reader, have accepted the possibility of such, and move on.

As I got older, my “psychic ability” (if you wish to use such a pedestrian term) exploded in leaps and bounds. I found my intuitional tentacles reaching out and touching realms I never dreamed possible. Sometimes I sat and channeled sentences or paragraphs or essays from beings on the other side. Other times I would peer past the edge of the painting, seeing objects or landscapes or people the artist imagined but could not fit on the canvas. Intruding, perhaps, but thrilling as well.

Why then, you ask, did I leave my world to become lost in one whose existence could never be proved? I suppose it is like asking why you fell in love with a particular person, or why you ordered fettuccine instead of pot roast. Sometimes choices are made for us. Other times we just choose. Period.

So through my choices, I took my first-ever magic carpet ride through the cosmos to a world I never imagined existed.

And this is what happened.