It's wonderful to have my special guest, Ann Gimpel, visit with my readers today and tomorrow as we ring in the new year. Today, it's all about Ann's dragons. I know my readers love dragons and so do I. Enjoy her great post about the archetypes and mythology of her fantasy romance books.
Thanks so much for inviting me to guest post on your blog
two days back to back, Marsha. That’s quite a compliment. Today’s post will be
about archetypes and mythology, topics that run through many of my books.
Tomorrows will be about shifters. Another archetypal presentation if ever there
was one.
Best of the new year to you and yours!
Archetypes
Entering the world of fairy tale and myth is a fascinating
journey. If you read a lot of these types of tales, you’ll become aware of
recurring character types and relationships. Basically, an archetype is an
ancient pattern of personality that’s part of the shared heritage of the human
race.
Carl Jung, a psychiatrist who practiced during the
first half of the twentieth century, believed in the concept of a Collective
Unconscious. According to him, fairy tales and myths are the dreams of an
entire culture, springing from the Collective. It isn’t accidental that there
are relatively few archetypal patterns. It is also not accidental that
archetypes have been amazingly constant throughout all times and cultures,
occurring in the dreams and personalities of individuals as well as in the
mythic imagination of the entire world.
A few of the common Archetypes are:
Hero:
The hero’s journey is a basic underpinning of a
majority of stories. Usually the hero begins as a rather ordinary person, but
is presented with a seemingly impossible challenge. He (or she) rises to the
bait and begin an incredible journey that draws us along with him. Along his
path, the hero finds teachers, guides, demons, gods, servants, scapegoats,
masters, seducers, betrayers, and allies. At some point along the way, the hero
comes face to face with his own shadow, which is Jung-speak for the darker
parts of ourselves. How he (or she) overcomes this confrontation is often key
to whether the story has a happy ending, or a tragic one.
Mentor:
Mentors show up when the hero needs to learn
something. Mentors are often former heroes passing on life’s knowledge and
wisdom. Obi Wan is Luke Skywalker’s mentor. To bring it closer to home, in my
book, Dragon Maid, Maggie’s
grandmother becomes her mentor after many tense years. Britta’s dragon, Tarika,
mentors her. And Jonathan’s mother shows up after a thirty plus year absence to
become a crusty mentor to him.
Threshold Guardian:
As our hero chases his/her goal, he comes up
against the “guardian of the gates.” Getting past them is crucial, but not
easy. Sometimes we create our own internal demons. In Dragon Maid, Jonathan has shoved his unpleasant childhood to a back
burner and Britta has done the same with her single-mindedness regarding
becoming a dragon shifter. She ran rough-shod over anyone who stood in her way.
Herald:
They announce the need for change. Heralds call to
us and provide motivation. They’re frequently who throws down the gauntlet and
urges the hero to begin his journey. Shakespeare is chockfull of heralds. You
have to hunt harder to find them in modern fiction.
Shapeshifter:
They change appearance or mood and are difficult
for the hero to pin down. Wizards, witches, and ogres are traditional
shapeshifters in fairy tales. When the hero keeps wondering if he’s about to be
betrayed, a shapeshifter is almost always present. In Dragon Maid, a dragon shifter shows up and blows Jonathan’s carefully
balanced world to smithereens.
Shadow:
Our shadow side represents the power of repressed
feelings. When emotions are hidden/denied, they can turn into something that
wants to destroy us. Many Shadow figures are also Shapeshifters, like vampires
and werewolves. Shadow challenges the hero and may also wear other archetypal
masks. Look at Hannibal Lector, who also functions as Jodie Foster’s mentor.
Ally:
Allies thrive in modern storytelling. They suggest
alternative paths for problem-solving and push the hero to ask for and receive
help. Allies don’t have to be human. They can be animals, spirits, angels, or
shifters! In Dragon Maid, Jonathan
finds an unlikely ally in his mother, just as Maggie did in her grandmother in
book one of that series.
Last but not least, the Trickster:
Tricksters cut big egos down to size and make
heroes loveable. They provide comic relief. Look at Loki, Norse god of trickery
and deceit. He serves the other gods as their legal advisor, but also plots
their destruction.
Not all stories have every archetype, but if you
keep your eyes open, you’ll begin to start picking them out as you read. Who’s
your hands-down favorite hero? Why?
Dragon
Maid
Dragon
Lore
Book
Two
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
64K words
Release Date: 10/5/15
Genre: Paranormal romance
Tumble
off reality’s edge into myth, magic, and Scottish dragon shifters
Book Description:
When pressed, Jonathan Shea admits
magic runs through his blood, but he’s always been ambivalent about it—until a
dragon and her mage show up in the Scottish Highlands, and then all bets are
off. Jonathan’s charmed and captivated by the dragon—a creature fresh out of
myth and legend—but the woman bonded to it is so enticing, he tosses caution
aside and catapults into the magical power he’s avoided for so long.
Britta and her dragon prepare for a
battle to save Earth. Freshly transplanted from a much earlier time, she feels
awkward, out of place. The first person she lays eyes on is Jonathan. There’s
something about him. She can’t quite pinpoint it, but he has way more magic
than he lets on. Magic aside, it runs deeper than that. For the first time
ever, she questions the wisdom of remaining a maid. If she doesn’t make up her
mind damned fast, though, her choices will fritter away. Beset from every side,
she’s never needed her magical ability more.
Surrounded by dragon shifters,
Celtic gods, Selkies, time travel, and a heaping portion of magic, Jonathan
comes into his own fast. Fell creatures target him, Britta, and her dragon. In
the midst of chaos, he and Britta find scorching passion and love so
heartbreakingly tender, it will change their lives forever.
Excerpt:
…Jonathan tried
not to stare, but it was a losing battle. The woman—no, the dragon shifter—was
the most perfect, the most alluring, creature he’d ever laid eyes on. Tall,
with high, rounded breasts, a slender waist, and curvy hips, she looked like a
goddess. Who knew? Maybe she was. The Celts had many deities. He fumbled with
his rucksack and pulled out a turkey sandwich on rye bread, which he handed to
her.
She yanked the
wrappings aside, dropping them onto the floor while she stuffed food into her
mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly. “Ye said there were two of these meat
and bread things.” Britta surveyed him, her golden eyes alight with interest.
“Yes, I did. If I
give you both, I’ll be hungry.”
She shrugged. “Not
my problem. Also, I requested mead.”
Jonathan’s lips
twitched. He corralled the smile that wanted out. Britta was an imperious
bitch, yet there was something so undeniably appealing about her
straightforward nature, it was impossible to feel offended. “No mead. At least
I don’t have any. We could ask the other witches, or if we found you some
clothes, we could go into the city and buy a proper meal, and as much to drink
as you wanted.”
She cocked her
head to one side and popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. “I can go
as I am. Shall we walk or use magic, witch?”
“Um, no, you can’t
go as you are. You’d be arrested.”
She tilted her
chin up. “Why? I can see where I might freeze to death, but who would give a
jolly fuck whether I’m dressed or not?”
Before he could
craft an explanation, Kheladin stalked over, trailed by three female witches
stroking the scales on his lower body. “Lachlan kept a clothes chest against
the far wall.” He pointed with a talon. “I’m certain some of his shirts and
tights would work, though there’s little to be done by way of shoes.”
Britta’s gaze
landed on a particularly large heap of gold jewelry and coins. “I could borrow
a bit of money from your hoard, just a coin or two, and—”
Kheladin’s eyes
whirled faster, glittering dangerously. “I doona think so. Unless your First
Born bondmate orders me.”
“No need to
disturb Tarika.” Britta turned a brilliant smile on Jonathan and tapped his
chest with her index finger. “He can buy me what I need.” Magic shimmered
around her. “Come close, witch. We’re leaving.”
Kheladin stumped
to Britta’s side. The counter spell he summoned to dampen her power sparkled,
and multi-hued strands wrapped around her. Her lips curled in fury, and she
raised her hands to call magic of her own.
“Not so fast,”
Kheladin snapped. “First, ye’ve forgotten ye need clothes. Second, Tarika was
in an all-fired hurry to find me. Such a big hurry, ye went without food or
rest. Why?”
Britta shook her
head so hard, her hair danced about her body. She swept the heels of her hands
down her cheeks, distorting her perfect features. “Och aye, whatever is wrong
with me? Nay, I know the answer. The Morrigan is furious because Lachlan
triumphed over the black and red wyverns, and their dragon shifter mages.”
“Good the old
Battle Crow even noticed,” Kheladin growled and breathed a fiery gout of
flames.
“She did more than
notice. She cast a spell to disrupt our memories out of sheer meanness. If ye
wouldna have reminded me… Hell, ’tis surprised I am we got here at all. The
Celtic gods, Gwydion and Arawn, sent us to warn you and Lachlan. They told us
their magic would trump the Morrigan’s, but not forever.” One corner of her mouth
turned down. “’Twould appear I just ran up against forever. Or mayhap their
magic got subverted by your wards.”
“What impact has
the Morrigan’s mischief had on the rest of our kind?”
“Those in Fire
Mountain are safe so long as they remain there. The memory-altering spell only
snares them when they set foot on Earth.”
“We just saw
Gwydion, Arawn, and Ceridwen, and they dinna tell us aught of any such casting.
Did they try to neutralize it?”
She cast a look
Kheladin’s way that said he should ask something worth her time answering.
Jonathan watched
the exchange, chest tight with excitement, feeling he’d fallen into one of the
old tales where heroes and heroines walked among humans.
“Let me try
again.” Kheladin sounded exasperated. “Did the Morrigan wake the black wyvern’s
mage, Rhukon?”
“’Twas the first
thing she did.”
“So all our effort
was for naught.” The dragon clanked his jaws together. “I must alert Lachlan.
Where’d the Celts find you? And how long ago?”
Britta rolled her
eyes. “Not in Fire Mountain, though I admit Tarika and I retreated there after
Rhukon, Connor, and their dragons teamed with the Morrigan, and things werena
looking good. Nay, the Celts plucked us out of the sixteen hundreds. They told
us enough about what the future holds to alarm us and sent us on our way.”
“Aye, and how long
ago was that,” Kheladin prodded.”
“Mayhap a week.
Tarika had things to attend to afore we could come. Why is that important?”
“Because Lachlan
and I just sought them out, and they reminded us they doona censure their own,
meaning they have no plans to clip the Battle Crow’s wings.”
“I believe I
understand.” Tarika forced her voice through Britta’s vocal chords. “They
rousted us out to excuse themselves from action. Craven bastards, the lot of
them.” Fire rolled from Britta’s mouth.
“For the love of
the goddess,” she sputtered from around flames. “Stop that.”
Kheladin inclined
his head. “Though the circumstances leave much to be desired, thank you for
coming.”
A warm smile lit
Britta’s face. It softened her features and made her look barely more than a
girl. Jonathan’s cock stiffened where it pressed against his jeans. Breath
caught in his throat, and he fought against touching her, running his hands
down her golden skin. He drew magic around himself to mask his lust, make it
unobtrusive, but she noticed anyway.
Britta turned an
appraising glance his way. “Aye, ye’d do well to hide your rut from me.”
Embarrassed at
being caught out but curious too, he asked, “Why?”
She tossed her
head at Kheladin. “Tell him, dragon. Mayhap he’ll believe it if he hears it
from another, ahem, male.” Her last word dripped sarcasm…
*~*~*
Dragon’s
Dare
Dragon
Lore
Book
Three
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
85K words
Release Date: 10/19/15
Genre: Paranormal romance
Tumble off reality’s edge into
myth, magic, and Scottish dragon shifters
Book Description:
Bloated on chaos, the Morrigan leaves
the Scottish Highlands to gather power. A trip through Hell yields quite the
assortment of allies tagging along behind her. Fell creatures straight out of
myth and nightmare that haven’t darkened Earth’s boundaries for centuries heed
her call.
Heartily sick of the Morrigan’s
maneuvering, the dragons are close to shutting their world off from everywhere,
Earth included. If they do, every dragon shifter bond will be broken.
Horrified, Lachlan and Britta launch a desperate campaign to hang onto their dragons.
Magic may bite back, but if the
dragons take their magic ball and go home, Earth will fade, along with all
other worlds. That suits the Morrigan fine. War and anarchy are her favorite
companions, and she collects misery like children gather beloved toys.
Arianrhod’s fellow Celts found out
about her fall from grace and her half-Druid son, Jonathan. With nothing
further to hide, she goes back in time hunting Angus, Jonathan’s father. Forty
years apart was a steep price to pay. The world needs Angus’s magic. And
Jonathan needs all the help he can get. Late to accept the power thrumming
through him, he holds a key role in keeping the world from spinning off its
axis. Reluctant at first, Jonathan finally gets it.
Absolute focus.
Absolute commitment.
Anything less and everyone he loves
will pay an unthinkable price.
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Excerpt:
…Jonathan Shea
cradled Britta in his arms. She was asleep, the rhythm and cadence of her
breathing revealed her exhaustion. He still couldn’t believe he’d found a mate,
and a woman linked to a dragon at that. Britta KilKerran was actually the
Countess of Cumbria, or she had been a few hundred years back. He wasn’t
certain such a title still existed.
It didn’t matter.
He’d offer up his life to protect the woman slumbering against his chest. He
loved her dragon too, but Tarika scarcely needed his protection. When he
thought of the scarlet-scaled dragon, one of the First Born, the place on his
neck where she’d marked him with a mating bite tingled. It was her contribution
to his bond with Britta.
She stirred in his
arms. He stroked strands of long, red-gold hair away from her face and spun a
small spell to keep her asleep. They’d just come from a major battle to free
Tarika and Kheladin, another dragon, from the Morrigan’s clutches. Both of them
needed rest, but his heart and mind were too full to let go quite yet.
After years of
never believing the rumor about his mother being a Celtic deity, he’d finally
met her. He brought it on himself by calling for her when they desperately
needed help, but he never believed she’d actually show up. Regardless, he
couldn’t deny her existence anymore—no matter how much he might want to.
Arianrhod had abandoned him when he was so young he had no memories of her, and
when he cut to the bone of things, he resented the crap out of her neglect.
Jonathan shut his
eyes for a moment and summoned an image of his father. Tall and rangy with
shaggy, rich brown hair and amber eyes, Angus had been a dreamer. He did his
best for Jonathan, but often as not, he’d been caught up in some trance state
or another. Though Angus hadn’t said so, Jonathan understood his father was
relieved when he grew old enough to be on his own. Once Jonathan left Ireland,
Angus vanished. Their modest cabin near Inishowen remained, but Jonathan knew
better than to waste time hunting for a man who didn’t wish to be found.
Had Arianrhod seen
Angus all these years he’d been missing? Jonathan could ask her, but she might
just stare him down with those inscrutable eyes—one gold, the other silver—and
not bother to answer.
He tightened his
hold on Britta, and she nestled closer. She was more comfortable about
Arianrhod being his mother than he was, but then she was far more comfortable
with magic in general. He blew out a breath, recognizing his life would never
be the same.
Not that he wanted
it to be, but he would’ve preferred finding the love of his life without having
to deal with a long-lost parent. Particularly one who stirred up a welter of
prickly feelings. Now if Angus were to show back up, it would be a different
story…
Britta wriggled
against him, and her golden eyes flickered open. She regarded him sleepily through
thick red lashes. “Ye canna rest, my love?”
Jonathan shrugged
and offered a sheepish smile. “Lots to think about.”
She cupped the
side of his face in one hand. “Do ye wish to talk about anything?”
He shrugged again,
feeling uncomfortable. What was there to say, really? He was a little old to be
struggling with parent issues. Besides he’d long since come to terms with his
father’s magic being too pervasive for him to spend much time around normal
humans. Jonathan dealt with some level of that as well, but his job as a
software engineer who designed games let him keep to himself.
Britta brushed her
hand across his lips. “Whenever ye wish, I’ll be here. Tarika too. She’s verra
old and much wiser than either of us. If ye canna get the information elsewhere,
mayhap we can figure out what sort of hold the Celtic gods had on your da.”
“Thank you. I’ll
keep it in mind.” Jonathan reached around her and snagged a bottle of Irish
whiskey off the nightstand. “Would you like some? I can get us glasses.”
“Och, and I can
drink from the bottle. No need to get fancy.”
She smiled, and it
transformed her into something so striking he couldn’t look away. A high
forehead gave way to sculpted cheekbones and a defined chin. One of his old
T-shirts covered her from chest to knees, but the outline of her breasts was
clearly visible through the well-aged beige fabric.
His cock stirred,
and he rolled his eyes. “We made love twice after we got here. I don’t
understand why I can’t get enough of you.”
“Are ye
complaining?” She quirked an arched red brow.
He shook his head
and drew both of them to a half sitting position against the carved oak
headboard. He uncorked the bottle and handed it to her. She drank deep before
handing it back.
Britta narrowed
her eyes and watched him drink. “We’re far from home free,” she blurted without
preamble.
“Which problem are
you referring to?” He placed the bottle on a side table not bothering to cork
it. He wasn’t done yet, and likely neither was Britta.
She moved away and
sat cross-legged facing him, her lovely face creased with concern. “We may have
permanently removed Connor and Rhukon and their dragons from the action, but
there have to be other corrupt dragon shifters. We must seek them out and
destroy them too.”
Jonathan shook his
head. “It won’t matter unless we get to the heart of things.”
“Aye, ye’re
correct. We must find a way to corral the Morrigan, or she’ll just entice more
mages and dragons with promises of limitless power.” Britta caught her lower
lip between her teeth. “Tarika plans to warn the dragons. She believes the dark
mages want to drain their dragon bondmates’ power.”
Jonathan
straightened and recaptured the whiskey bottle, taking another swallow. “I
thought mages became dragon shifters because they loved dragons and wished to
share their lives with them.”
“Aye and that
would be true—for most of us. Power lures dark mages, though. Far more power
than can be had through the normal dragon shifter bond.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw it in
Connor and Rhukon’s minds afore we thrashed them.”
“You didn’t say
anything.” He handed her the bottle. Maybe they should eat something, if they
were going to drink much more.
“I would have.
Eventually. Tarika and I needed to determine just what it meant. And if ’tis
really true, or just conjecture on our part.”
He kissed her
forehead before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to cut
up a bit of cheese for us and get some crackers.” He pulled on a pair of black
sweat pants, securing the waist string to keep them from falling down, and got
to his feet.
“Excellent.” She
grinned. “Plotting revenge is hungry business, but ye dinna have to cover that
amazing cock.”
He bit back a
laugh, enjoying the compliment, and made his way to the kitchen. His apartment
was small enough to keep talking. “Did you discuss this with Lachlan?” he asked
as he chopped cheese off a block and opened a box of biscuits.
“Nay, but Tarika
and Kheladin figured out what was going on while they were held prisoner.”
Jonathan returned
to the bedroom and plopped the snacks on the bed next to Britta. “How does this
bondmate thing work? Would Lachlan be privy to the dark mage problem, if it’s
in his dragon’s mind?”…
About
the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a national
bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing
speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared
in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from
urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients,
now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality.
When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with
her camera. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more planned
for 2015 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf
hybrids round out her family.
Find Ann At:
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
