The Making of Delevan House #9

Writers on vacation? My girl is in the mountains; I picture her standing high, overlooking the land in a circlet of evergreens painted in autumnal …

The Making of Delevan House #9

The Making of Delevan House #8

The Art of Seductive Reasoning Some may consider life and all of its complexities purely deductive, where two or more ideas come together to form a …

The Making of Delevan House #8

The Making of Delevan House #7

The first day of October leaves us speechless, as it’s the official entrance to everything Autumn, our favorite time of the year. No words adequately…

The Making of Delevan House #7

Co-conspirators

The thing about finding a partner to share the intricate and often messy process of life and or creation with is that there has to be a level of mutuality that bends and blends with something that could be conflicting but ultimately becomes complimentary to the other’s process. We come together to share and intertwine ideas to make new colours in life and in art. Colours that would never be without the other. The coalition becomes a new entity separate from the singular. And it thrums to its own drum, which exists inside each of us. Sending electrical impulses of ideas that invade our dreams as we (attempt to) rest and seize our minds at the most unexpected moments. We have much work to do, and the muse grows each day.

I’ve always been fiercely private when I’m ‘creating’. Yes, I was that child in nursery who would hunch quietly behind the easel with one arm hiding my recycled, crunchy foolscap paper. I didn’t want or be copied, ridiculed or questioned. What if they saw something through paint strokes that I don’t want to share? What if someone took a piece I wasn’t ready or willing to give up?

I’m not original. We’re all just unconscious copies, in a way. I know many of us have that feeling I had back then and carry it somewhat into adulthood, especially if we continue on or rediscover a creative path—a fear of being unpicked and someone else discovering something or disappointment of there being nothing. Exposure or emptiness?

With my BFH sister, Ruthann Jagge, I have found that I’m no longer anxious and scared of either of these things. I share my creative process with her as if we cohabit the same space. (I’m not embarrassed by the mess I make as we build.) Because of this, we are creatively bound for as long as that mutual muse whispers and screams—and oh, the muse certainly does that! Sometimes I can’t get the words down fast enough. Honestly, I never thought I could do that with anyone. It’s an intimacy that supersedes the distance—the sharing of minds, passions, drives, triggers, ideas, and art!

It’s still new, and it’s all so exciting! For updates on our first release and those that follow, tune in to Brazen Folk Horror.

Peace & Love—Natasha )O(

Delevan House, Ruthann Jagge & Natasha Sinclair

The Making of Delevan House #6

How does a writer living in Texas, USA and another living in North Lanarkshire, Scotland, write books together? We’re not on brooms; we’re on zoom! …

The Making of Delevan House #6

The Making of Delevan House #5.2

In the Northern Hemisphere, the year’s Harvest Moon is the full moon closest to Autumn Equinox. This year the Moon graces the earth with her sunlit …

The Making of Delevan House #5.2

The Making of Delevan House #5.1

Living on a rural ranch has taught me a genuine appreciation for nature and the night sky. Not that I didn’t always love watching clouds, but things …

The Making of Delevan House #5.1

Don’t Wake Me Up

The fog has been rolling in thick with sundown; an exchange as Summer’s end meets Autumn’s wake. Shards of blinding light dance with strips of darkness. The days cycle in stark contrast; bones are chilled through dawn, the heat rolls in, the fog resides, and it’s roasting until dusk again. It’s no wonder plant life and migratory patterns are in a state of confusion. I’ve been battling this myself. We’re no different, no better. We are as connected with nature as the beating wings riding the air currents and the falling leaves.

The song ‘Wake me up when September Ends’ rings through my head, but September feels like a new beginning. Don’t wake me up. I want to be mesmerised by the changing colours and hear the music of the leaves fall. I want to dance in the rain and wash the pains away.

Don’t wake me up.

Spending time in the village today. Perhaps you would like a peek?

BrazenFolkHorror.com

The Making of Delevan House #3

Chapter 3 Question: Where does one begin when the spark of a novel involves obscure history, mythos, and an elevated degree of imagination to …

The Making of Delevan House #3