Looking for Dei Inspiration for the Novel
The inspiration for Looking for Dei was an interesting beast. Ever since I was a wee lad, I have wanted to write a novel, and I read lots of fantasy. Loved fantasy! Still do. My full-time job has been as a major crimes investigations Sergeant, however, so my qualifications better fit the crime or thriller genres, but my passion just hasn’t been with those genres, and they didn’t fit my goals. Goals to inspire.
In my career, I’ve seen some of the most horrible things that people do to each other. I’ve dealt with heinous crimes, thousands of them, and learned a lot about human suffering. Through all that, I’ve seen how pain changes people, how it makes them fearful, and how it shuts them down. It’s sad to see how we restrict ourselves from doing great things because of fear, and I wanted to address that aspect of human experience.
I also wanted to address the importance of human life. Much of my worldview involves the inherent value each human being has, a concept which is the core of the magic system in Looking for Dei.
Through all these experiences, I’ve learned that we are all, to a certain extent, broken. Pain changes us, irrevocably affecting our experiences, and changing the lens through which we view the world. Yet somehow, when broken people triumph over the obstacles set before them (or those they create for themselves), there is a sweet victory to be had. I wanted to tell that story, too. Victory is important stuff.
Pain, fear, inherent value, brokenness and victory. I wanted to show it all, and fantasy is a very flexible genre for such ambitions. Besides, I loved fantasy novels as a kid. Did I say that already? Loved! But I also wanted to inspire, and I am convinced that there is no more fertile ground to plant these seeds of hope than in the minds of youth, so I chose Young Adult Fantasy.
So there it is.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Looking for Dei
Genre: YA Fantasy
Barnes and Noble
Fairmont – Capital of the Great Land
The toddler blew at the dandelion bloom until its seeds broke free and floated away on a breeze that gusted past the man watching her from the bushes. His breath hitched as his burdens were lifted and briefly forgotten.
It had taken ten years to locate her. A life of study, prayer, and service to Dei in a monastery had not prepared him for so many years on the run, hiding under false names while he searched for the one he feared he might never find. His grizzled, greying goatee and unkempt hair might have labeled him a beggar or a desperate criminal, but the hope in his eyes told a different story.
Oblivious to the nearby threat, the girl dropped the crumpled dandelion stem and stumbled clumsily near a pile of stones. No more than two years old, she waddled across the overgrown orphanage courtyard, her cloth diaper askew. She plucked more flowers, her red hair dancing as she hopped after the seeds. She seemed to favor the world as her playmate, ignoring the twenty other children in the courtyard. She bumped into a small boy, fell down, and hopped back up with a baby-tooth grin before trotting off.
When she fell, a glimpse of her back jolted the man to his task. It was the blemish that beckoned him here—an ugly red scar stretching from upper back to waist, announcing her identity as the prophetic treasure he had sought for so long. The weight of the manuscript in his backpack grounded his thoughts, and he glanced around the area. There were no fences, plenty of bushes for cover, and a single matron leisurely surveying the yard. The woman sat on the aging building's back steps, watching the little ones as they ran about. She wore a dress and would be unable to chase him. How long would it take for her to alert the authorities?
As he surveyed the grounds to plan his escape, the girl waggled her hand at a passing butterfly and giggled as it flew away. Fortune favored his plans when she ran to a group of dandelions just a few feet from his hiding place. Squatting, she grabbed several stems, preparing to blow and release the seeds.
The man looked over to the matron, who had turned away to manage a quarrel between two other children. Knowing this might be his only chance, he burst forward and scooped the babe up in one arm, then raced back through the bushes behind the orphanage. He ran as fast as he could, unable to avoid jostling the child in his arms. She began to cry at the shock of her abduction, still gripping the dandelion stems in one tiny fist.
Back at the orphanage, the matron in the dress looked toward the back of the yard. The only evidence of a disturbance was a cloud of dandelion seeds that drifted upon the air, scattering in the light breeze. She turned to the many children she cared for, oblivious to the crime that had just been perpetrated under her watch.
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