Magikal Claire The Mule

The Claire Saga does not do the real Claire the Mule justice. She is far more magikal than I can ever hope to translate to the page.

I often mention how no matter where Claire may be on Casa Claire, if I stare out the window looking for her, she senses my gaze from whatever distance, turns and looks in my direction. For the record, it is not just me, she also does it if Lisa’s looking out at her. So cool, so eerie.

Now you have to understand that most of my first floor windows have that reflective sun guard so prevalent in houses in NoCo because of how bright the sun can be. You cannot see into those windows from the outside. They are like mirrors.

Yesterday afternoon, I was looking to see where the Mules were and when I finally spotted them grazing out front I pulled out the iPhone and snapped a long shot and close up in rapid succession. Then slid the phone back in my pocket until I needed some inspiration over coffee this morning.

If you have read The Claire Saga you know that all of the characters evolve in some manner over the course of the books. Claire is no exception. While she starts off as an amazing creature in The Wise Ass, with incredible gifts, each book finds her ratcheting up her personal evolution to a higher level in order to meet the growing needs of her mystical, motley crew.

You see, Jimmy Moran may be a catalyst for the story, but Claire is the story. Jimmy is just selected from the masses to be the narrator-witness to that story. But he is selected, by Claire.

Now I have also often told anyone that cares – and even some that don’t – that I never know what I’m writing until after it is done. I don’t outline, storyboard or have any idea where the story is taking me. I just sit around doing everything else I do and have been doing for the past six decades – being a husband, father, lawyer, friend (and now gentleman farmer) – until I start feeling anxious. That anxiety slowly builds to the point of breaking, where I feel the need to return to the computer and start to tell the next story.

I sit down during the early hours and let my fingers follow wherever the characters lead me. I watch the film play out in my head and type as fast as I can to keep up. I liken it to being RAM guiding a computer. It can perform wonderful juggling tricks when the power is on, but everything disappears when the screen goes dark.

Even now, I only retain as much of The Claire Saga as anyone does when they awaken from a vivid dream. Highlights. It’s more of a feeling than a story.

I will purposefully incorporate a friend into the literary mix, but I’m never quite sure how that will happen. I just toss that real person into my imaginary hopper with all of the other characters and see how it shakes out. They usually know why they have appeared.

That is why I rely so deeply on my inner circle of readers as I write each book. They remember everything, the details and characters, the backstory and dialogue that came before, and they make sure I don’t screw things up as they read and respond in real time to the chapters I send them each morning. I am forever in their individual and collective debt. They rock.

I just need to feel that anxiety, sit down, turn on, channel and type.

I do share how each book is proceeding with Claire as I am out and about with her and Honey each day on Casa Claire. Whatever I have just wrote. Broad strokes is the best I can do. Battles, loves, births, deaths, trips. I always start with – “you’re never going to believe this . . . .” Claire doesn’t like me to go too deep into the weeds, which is good, because I really can’t. But Claire always let’s me know when the story is ready to be finished. “Bring it home, Tommy.”

And this may sound strange but the moments immediately after I type the final words to any of the books and send them off to the inner crew, I feel as relaxed as one does after great sex. The endorphins are kicking in. The anxiety is gone. Feels fucking amazing.

And if I’m not shooting blanks, about nine months later the stork delivers a box of bouncing baby books from BRW, my publisher.

Now some have asked me why I chose to write the three books, The Wise Ass, An Alien Appeal, and Kissing My Ass Goodbye, that are often referred to collectively as The Claire Trilogy – indeed they are also collectively packaged that way as Kindle ebooks – and then write the prequel, Finding Jimmy Moran, before writing the sequel to it all with Where The Ley Lines Meet.

I think that again comes down to the role Claire plays in the storyline. You see, I guess I needed the readers to first fall in love with Claire in TCT, before I could tell the story about young Jimmy McCarthy, because the story needed Claire to be there when the prequel was being told. It is only through the telling of the prequel, to the particular audience hearing it, that the reader learns why Claire chose Jimmy to join her on her epic quest that plays out in TCT. That tale of Jimmy’s young life references and sets up the sequel to The Claire Saga that you will see in Where The Ley Lines Meet.

And through it all, I wasn’t quite sure about the meaning behind WTLLM until I opened my iPhone this morning and scrolled to the photos I took of Claire yesterday. This is not what I saw out my window at that moment I snapped the photo. But the message was received.

I hope you fine, five readers get it too. Claire takes the story home.

If you check out the first photo you see when you come to this website, you’ll see the real rainbow that appeared over my Toyota – yep the one from the books – early after my arrival at Casa Claire in 2017.

I literally had to jump out of my car, run a few yards back up my road and take a photo of it. It was just before I met the real Claire, who lived down the road that passed under that rainbow. I had no idea that a whole new universe lay before me.

Well, Monday is happily behind us. Tuesday awaits.

Tuesdays are always a pleasure.

I have some kitties to cuddle and rounds to make.

Let’s see what magik still lies before us.

And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.