Tag Archives: inspiration

Way of the Wiccad

Day 1

Wiccad isn’t about having phenomenal cosmic powers. That kind of thing is for the books and movies (oh, they will come). Wiccad is about embracing your destiny. Wiccad is about embracing the faebulous person you were born to be. It is about cultivating your strengths and making yourself a force for good, a force for change – not necessarily for the whole world but for your whole world.
We are born with this light inside of us so that we can burn bright and light our life, our world. Our little kingdom. Whether that kingdom is you, the cat and two friends who stop by with unicorn themed drinks, or maybe the kingdom is you, a partner, kids, extended family, colleagues, committees, sports teams and more. Or maybe your kingdom is just you and a stuffed bear called Deano.
Whatever the kingdom is, you can light it up.
This is what being Wiccad is all about. Shining bright. Feeling warm and happy. Feeling light. Feeling like the best version of you that you could ever want to be.
And you know what?
It’s hard.
It’s really freaking hard.
From day dot we have people, situations and society trying to diminish our light, trying to steal our light, or just using so much of our light that there is very little left to light our own kingdom. We are often not encouraged to follow our gifts and do what makes us happy, what makes us the best person we can be for everyone but most importantly for ourselves.
Many of us are lost, miserable, hurt, crying, reaching out…
I see it every day.
I lived it.
I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t the best me I could be. And I admit, I had all this amazing stuff in my life, amazing people and family and love, but my light was still flickering and occasionally threatening to go out completely. I was not, no, I’m still not the Wiccad Woman I want to be. I am not the best version of myself. I am not who I want to be.
And there is a lot I can do to change it, and that is my path to being Wiccad. A path that is different for everyone. I would love to help everyone find their path to Wiccadness and to being the best version of themselves that they want to be. But first, it starts with me.
So here we are – The Way of the Wiccad Day 1.
So, what has Day 1 looked like? Well, it started with having a small pity party for myself over the way someone was acting with me and the way they made me feel. I got reminded “You never have to interact on other people’s terms.”
In other words, I don’t have to let them dictate our interactions, especially if what they are doing makes my light flicker. I can set boundaries and I can interact on my terms. I felt better after realising that.
Day 1 looked like…cold. Well, it didn’t look cold so much as feel it. It was the coldest morning I can recall of the year and getting out of bed took some effort. The cold sat in the garage and had a little chilly party. This might not have made any difference to me except I had told myself that today was the day I got back on the treadmill. My exercise has been lacking. Last week I got back into some dancing and using the swiss ball. This week I wanted to get back into more exercise. A HUGE part of becoming the best version of me is to take back my body. To be fit and happy. To be able to run around with K. To be happy with how my clothes sit and how I look. So, Day 1 looked like me wavering about getting back on the treadmill because the garage was effing cold.
I got back on the treadmill, and though I am nowhere near what I used to be able to do on it, I got on it. I kept moving until I was hot and sweaty. I gave myself a time goal and I hit it! (And I remembered to cool down afterwards so my legs are less inclined to scream sweet murder at me tomorrow).
Day 1 was becoming a success.
Day 1 was plotting on Faeted Tales because a change in the mythology of my worlds means I had to scrap most of a whole part of the story and restart. YAY. (This is what happens when you write things seven years ago and keep evolving the mythos…but it does mean that what I am creating is freaking faebulous!)
Day 1 then turned to me. To The Princess Bard and the brand that it is. The Princess Bard is me, but she’s also a commodity that must be treated as such. Treated as a business that requires effort and investment. Which then turned to who I want to be in the world. And I want to be me. I want to share my story and my path as much as I want to share the crafty pretties I make and the wonderful words I create.
So, The Princess Bard needs to live the Way of the Wiccad each day and I love and miss regular blogging on a more personal nature. So, I’m going to do this. Still not 100% sure how to do it with social media, do I just devote it to Facebook? To WordPress? Twitter isn’t quite so good for the big wordy posts, but I can easily put a link up there. So, what I’m thinking is that Facebook, you’re going to get my daily (or close to daily) posting. And WordPress, you’ll get a weekly update.
And you’re all going to join me as I follow this path and live the Way of the Wiccad. It’s a journey of self-discovery. Becoming the best version of me that I can be. Heart, Soul, Mind and Body. You’ll hear about the things I’m doing, the things I’m stopping and everything that I’m changing. And you can come with me. If you’ve had a good day, tell me. If you’ve had a shit day, well tell me that too and I will guarantee a hug sent your way.
We will be stellar. We will be faebulous. We will be Wiccad. Our light will shine, and you know what, we will be happy. And as I am learning. That’s so freaking important.


Juggling in a Crown

So, last night this lucky little Princess Bard got to attend Lisa O’Neill‘s little event at The Gatsby Room at the Art Deco Masonic Centre.

Lovely glass of Pinot Gris and lovely art deco windows to want at home.

I was absolutely lucky to be there as Two Lippy Ladies (a shop full of divine gorgeousness that I require) had a little contest and guess who won two tickets and a signed copy of Lisa’s book. This gal.

Now, honestly I didn’t know what to expect but I thought it would be fun and I should get something out of it. But let me tell you after I got out, it felt like it had been one of those fates in motion moments and I was meant to be there. It was so much what I needed to hear. Most of you will know that things haven’t been the best lately. PCOS can be a real moo-cow, sleep deprivation does not do nice things to the mind or the soul. I have had some moments of total lowness. I have been climbing back out of it, refocusing myself and starting to achieve things again. I knew I still had a long way to go. I just haven’t really known how to get there.

Lisa helped. Oh, how she helped. Her talk was hilarious. Absolutely laugh out loud funny and damn, if a good laugh isn’t sometimes exactly what you need. She was also completely insightful on many aspects of life. From making yourself a priority, to the people in your life who contribute vs contaminate.

It is important that you work out who is contaminating your life and who is contributing to it. People who are contributing will add value: they will improve your life, lift your energy and make you feel better.

She spoke about all the balls we are constantly trying to juggle. I have a lot of balls I am juggling. Though, in Princess Bard fashion it seems less fitting to call them balls. I’m working on what they are instead. Maybe magical glowing orbs? Jaidee likes that. Briar thinks they should be jewel-encrusted daggers that are on fire, honestly, some days it does feel like that is an accurate description.

Lisa talked about so much that I needed to hear, some things I didn’t necessarily want to hear either. So today I am starting reading the book, well, technically I started on the book at 6:27 this morning. (Was it the full moon last night because sleep and me were not friends, I felt like the energizer after 42 cups of coffee – I could see through space and time and find all the answers to life, the universe, and everything. Yet I woke up full of get up and go rather than in Zombie Princess mode like normal.) So, yes, book today and more looking at my life. And I am seriously thinking about taking her Big Love 6-week online course. Just need to wrangle up the funds (So if you could head over and buy a book on Amazon to help me, I would love you so much.) It is something I’m working on, finding Big Love for myself. Or, in my world, becoming Wiccad Within. I can help people until the cows come home to find that light inside themselves but I admit to not being so great at it myself.

And I am so done with that.

I am done with letting the world dictate how bright I burn, I am going to shine so brightly that I light up my kingdom. And I know that is something that only I can achieve.

So here is to the Fates, Two Lippy Ladies and Lisa O’Neill for bringing me just what I needed. And here is to the happiness that is coming, the success, and a bright shining Princess Bard with her magical glowing orbs all being juggled while wearing her crown.


Be faebulous. Be stellar. Be Wiccad. I love you.


Could you love a boy like me?

It’s been a while since I was inspired to do one of these. But I was, and I can promise that this is part of something far more. I was also inspired by my families recent trips to France and to the commemorations in Arras where our Great Grandfather was a Tunneler. So from a song and from a family history comes a small part of a much greater flood of stories to come one day.


Others were getting suspicious. Young men would come into the hospital near death, or about to lose limbs, and they would have almost miraculous recoveries.

Mathilde knew the truth about the miracles. The truth was, it was all because of Mathilde and her two dads.

Mathilde had been born to a doctor and his wife in Paris. Both were now dead and Mathilde had nearly joined them. Her mother had been the first to fall sick, and her father had worked so hard to save her. He could not, and a fortnight before her death he became very ill himself. Mathilde nursed them both but she could do little ease their suffering. Her mother died one cold morning and her father followed a few nights later. Paris was under martial law at the time and many areas were controlled by factions. A deeply religious man decided that Mathilde had to be infected too and could not be allowed to leave her house to infect others. She was boarded inside, screaming for help. Hysteria saw many others suffer as she did. She was left with the bodies of her deceased parents to die of illness or starve to death.

Luc and Milo were drawn to her cries and found the emaciated nineteen-year-old woman very near to death. They did not fear the illness, they were near immortal Children of the Night, and they offered Mathilde the chance to become one of them. There was an instant bond between the three and Mathilde agreed. She was transformed that night and she had never regretted the decision.

For though they were reviled and hated for what they were supposed to be, they had great power to help others. And with the world being torn about by war now, many years later, that was what they were doing. Few of their kind had the gift to heal, but they did, and they would willingly use it.

“We’ve got more coming in, the trucks are already arriving outside,” another nurse said. She side-eyed Mathilde as she spoke. “We’re going to need a miracle to save most of them from what I’m hearing.”

Mathilde was not sure if that was permission or acceptance of her gifts from the older nurse, but if miracles were needed, she would give them. The men were dying in their thousands and Mathilde and her fathers could only do so much.

The hospital began to echo with the screams of the injured, it was the ones that weren’t screaming that Mathilde went to first.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stood beside one young soldier. He was not a French boy, one of the soldiers come to aid them. She had never seen him before in her life but Mathilde felt an instant connection.

“He is too far gone, Mattie.” Luc stood beside her. “Too much magic would be needed to save him, seek out others.”

“I cannot, Father. I cannot explain it but he must be saved.”

Luc let out a curse and shook his head. “Begin then, my daughter. I will aid when I return.”

Mathilde nodded and knelt beside the stretcher on the ground. The room was chaos and no one had time to watch what she was doing. Mathilde considered turning the young man, something inside her wished to do so. But he was in no position to give consent and the result could be a greater monster than the Germans.

He needed blood, a lot of blood. He drank from her wrist and she worked her blood into his wounds. She willed him to heal but there was nothing more that she could do than she was. She was weak from the loss of so much of her blood and she needed to feed. She could not.

She would never drink from the dying or the injured. It was unconscionable.

There were more to save. Hundreds, thousands. This boy was in the hands of the Gods or his God.

Mathilde worked with the others until she collapsed. Luc found her and fed her while Milo aided her boy. They were all exhausted but Luc and Milo were less picky about who they fed on so could aid Mathilde when she needed. They had to make sure their daughter was taken care of, the same as any parent.

“The boy?”

“He lives, though whether he shall recover is no longer with us. We have done what we can. He will wake if he is meant to.”

“I think he is meant to.” Mathilde got up off the floor where she had fallen. Luc supported her, she was still weak, even after feeding. “I need to see him.”

Luc helped her through the wards to where the boy had been put. In the low light, she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. She touched his forehead to see if he was fevered.

He was not but her touch disturbed him.


Luc let out a sound of laughter that was far too loud in the dark ward and he quickly stopped himself. “Did he say….?”

“I think he did,” Mathilde replied and tilted her head to look at the boy. He seemed about her own age. “Maybe he is dreaming of a good home cooked meal.”

“I think most here do,” Luc agreed. “He speaks which is a good sign that he will be okay. You must rest if you wish to help others.”

Mathilde nodded and let herself be put to bed. It seemed there would always be more to help.


It took four days for the boy to wake and when he did he seemed energised. He might have sprung out of bed but his leg was not yet healed. It had taken a lot to keep him alive. The magic had not gone far enough to heal him completely. It would be a few weeks before he was back on his leg, and maybe a month before he could be sent back to the front lines.

Everyone called him by his last name O’Connor and Mathilde did too. Though he often asked her to call him husband. He was absurdly cute with his daily declarations of love for the young nurse, and many of the other soldiers she tended got threatened with being taken out back and thrashed when they flirted like he did.

He healed quicker than expected. Another miracle. And Mathilde almost regretted the help she was giving him. He’d be leaving all too soon.

“Come on, Lass. At least promise me a dance after we get out of here.”

“You make it home alive from the war and I’ll promise you that dance.”

“What about us, love? Can we get a dance too?” One of the other men asked. He was to be discharged this week, well enough to go back and fight again. It pained Mathilde to know that many she healed would not make it back home.

“Get home safely and we’ll talk about it.”

“You slay me, Lass,” O’Connor teased. “What does a fella have to do to make you his own?”

“I’m not sure I’m the right woman for any gent,” Mathilde admitted. She was so drawn to O’Connor and her fathers would often exchange knowing looks. Mathilde couldn’t give in though. She was not like he was.

His last night came all too soon and Mathilde allowed herself a private moment with him in one of the storage rooms.

“Could you love a boy like me?”

“Write to me, come back safely to me and we’ll see what happens,” Mathilde promised. She couldn’t help herself, she had real feelings for O’Connor in a way she could not explain.

“I’ll come back for you. I’ll always come back for you.”

He kissed her and Mathilde melted against his body. The kiss was passionate and left them both breathless.

“Come back then,” Mathilde said and she fled, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew she would be broken if he joined the others in the mass graves that were far too full. She had saved his life and healed his wounds, but she could not protect him as he returned to the fight.

There were only so many miracles they could give, and far too many in the world needed them. All Mathilde could do was keep her secret and pray that he would be safe. Keep two secrets.

Because truth be told, she could love a boy like him. In fact, it was quite certain she had loved him since the moment she had stood beside his stretcher.

Why else did her heart tell her he must live?


The not so weekly update

Okay so this was meant to be done on Monday but things did not go precisely as planned as school went back. Sick kiddo on Tuesday had me in mama mode. So here we are today.

After many discussions with people and the poll I had run, it has been decided that the next book published will be the first book of The Faeted Tales series. As you can imagine, Jaidee is delighted since this will be her book. I have no date to give you for when it will be released. I would love to say it will be released on Jaidee’s birthday in August, but we shall see. This is because of one big reason…

I slipped and started a new story.

So, I had this crazy dream revolving around helping a famous person through a PR nightmare because people are not as tolerant as they might claim to be of lifestyle choices. This then combined with me reading through the Dungeons and Dragons Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting book led me to inspiration for a new story. Not only a new story but a new realm that once linked to ours, with some very interesting races in it. Cue me starting to write the story just to get the idea down…and less than a week later I’m up to 28 pages in my notebook all handwritten and a page of plot points waiting to be written. So I estimate I’m between 10,000 and 12,000 words on it and the muse is very keen to keep writing. BY HAND. I had this with Babypire as well, the muse was stubborn and wanted to handwrite first. This would be awesome if I had a typist to get the words into Word but alas, that typist is me.

One day I will be rich enough to pay handsomely an assistant to type up everything from my notebooks. I’ll probably suddenly have another two hundred short stories that can be finished. Today is not that day.

So yes, I am distracted by this new modern fantasy thriller romance. Which also means that The Bloodied Briar’s post will be late too. I had plans to have a post out for Briar each week, I also had plans that the chapters would be 500-1,000 words each. The last two have been over 2,000 and this current one is looking like it will be at least that. It might need to be split in two but I won’t know until I finish writing it. But I will say it will be amazing. See, back three years ago I had the most amazing idea for a storyline to play out on Twitter and Tumblr. Alas, my partner at the time had different ideas for where to take the story and I ended up cutting it super short and it never became what it should have been. Now, thanks to this I get to write the story Briar always wanted. It will be amazing but it needs to be done right, so, forgive me if this chapter takes more than a week to be released. (Which it will because there is no way to finish it and edit it by tomorrow.) It will be worth the wait I promise.

For now, I need to get working on the words and I leave you with a verse/chorus from Resplendent, a song that will feature in the new story.

Lyric Warm-Up Writing Day 1 – Will You Still Love Me


I’ve had a huge response of song lyrics (but please keep them coming) and using a random number generator picked this lovely lyric for today’s prompt. Thanks for @faerierebel for the suggestion.

So I have written today’s warm up. The muse inspired voices not yet seen in the world for the most part, but that I hope to share soon. But here, have a little story to wet your appetite:

Will you still love me when I shine from words but not from beauty?

It was hard to be the beloved of an immortal, or nearly immortal, being. Especially when age claimed you as easily as any other around you.

Twenty years and lines would deepen around her eyes, her eyes would not be as bright and they would not see as well. Things would probably sag, probably get bigger and well, he would be exactly the same.

The poem was not helping.

Will you still love me when I shine

From words but not from beauty

Would he? Should he?

Would she change to be like him if she could?

Stupid questions.

Yes, he would love her. She knew his feelings well enough to know that he loved her through to her soul. He was not capable of being so shallow as to fall out of the love that had grown between them because of how she looked.

Yes. She would change to be like him. She had before, though it had been ill-fated in that life. She would again to be with him until death did them part. She did not want him alone and unloved while her soul sought a way to return to him.

Étain watched Dai as he worked at the forge, moulding the metal to meet his will. The skills he had learned from his Step-Father so long ago. He had barely changed since those times and her soul had been taken from him twice since. He had lived waiting for her to return again. How could she make him wait given she remembered how it felt to be denied the one you loved?

She had searched long days, months, years, to find him. To prove herself worthy of him. She had done so, he had now repaid the favour times over.

“If there is a way for my soul to become immortal, as you are, Dai. Would you take me as your wife again?”

There was a loud sound of banging followed by loud cursing. Dai twisted and jumped around. He had been so startled by the question he had dropped his hammer on his foot.

“Christ, Love. Warn a man before you blindside him like that,” Dai replied. He was clearly pained right now, though it would pass swifter than had he been a mere mortal like herself.

In fact, Étain was quite certain had it been her foot, it would have been crushed completely.

“I am not sure how I might have warned you, but I do apologise for causing your pain,” Étain said and got up to help Dai to his chair.

“You might have said you meant to ask a silly question.”

“It is not a silly question, given our history, I shall take no things for granted. You left me once when we were wed.”

“A curse and my stubbornness took me from you, I am not that same man now and my mother can no longer come between us,” Dai said softly and took Étain’s hands within his own. “If this is what you truly wish, I would be the happiest man in the City, nay, in all the realms. Do you wish it? For yourself?”

“I do wish it. Though I know you would still love me if I grew old and gnarled as an old tree. I would rather remain this time with you, Dai. Whatever trials I must undergo this life to be your wife, I shall. My heart demands it.”

“My sweet Psyche,” Dai murmured and kissed her. “Whatever trials it takes, we shall face them together. I will move worlds to be allowed to stay at your side and love you.”

From the other room, Maggie and Krystia watched. The old healer muttered to herself before she turned to face Maggie. “You’re takin’ that Lass from me ain’t ya?”

“I am doing nothing, Krystia. You of all people should know that souls as destined as those two are, will not be kept apart. Psyche will always search for her love. And Eros will ever need her. But you are not losing her yet. And perhaps in the place their story began they will find their answers.”

“Aye, as always, you’re right.”

“An annoying habit of mine according to Terrence. Now, how about you brew a pot of your tea and then after we shall tell them you leave for Greece tomorrow night.”

“Aye, that I can do.”

The two women left the young woman and her immortal lover to their moment. Maggie knew it made sense that they had been reunited again, history spun in circles like a spiral, always repeating. She simply hoped that this time the Fates would not make them lose each other again. They had earned a happy ending.


I hope you enjoyed this little warm-up story. I enjoyed being told it. And if you’re using the prompt yourself, link me to your writing. I’d love to read how the words move your muse.