Once upon a time or something like that….

So this is the start of a journey. It won’t be filled with magical rings or enchanted wardrobes, although there may be dragons further down the road.
This story started with a girl and progressed into an adventure of self discovery, vampires and David Gilmour, Pink Floyd’s gorgeously unaware front man as the catalyst of all the girl’s dreams.
The girl is obviously me, these adventures, my trials and victories as I overcome the White Walkers, Mordors and White Witches of writing my first novel, ACCORDING TO LEGEND.

I can devise no simpler way to begin than the whole thing started with a song. My mind, once accustomed to the metallic tings and Mick Jagger’s honky-tonk-brit vocals describing a devil not so deserving of our hatred and blame, but of a species of animals, too intelligent for their own good, creating a fairytale villain to carry the evil of their own shortcomings. This isn’t a religious conversation, nor is ACCORDING TO LEGEND a study in Christian lectures or rebellion, but we’ll get to that later. When I heard the song at 16 and grasped the purpose of the lyrics, my mind started spinning. A tale and a question circled and danced like swordsmen. What if…. became my mantra and I couldn’t let it go. I saw this face in my mind, very distinctly defined, with eyes that hinted at everything I was wondering at. He had the answers to my questions. All I had to do was give him the ability to tell me – and through me – everyone who read my words. His words. No. What ACCORDING TO LEGEND has become, is OUR words, our revelations, our triumphs and our undoings at the hands of circumstance.
I started writing a rough draft – now almost entirely obsolete – in a worn-out looking journal acquired at my own personal sanctuary, Barnes and Noble. The tale had two beginnings and too much cheesy dialogue. At the time I thought it was great and it inspired me beyond all reason. I was totally obsessed with this story that was somehow spilling out of my mind through my hands.
My family was taking a cruise out of Galveston Texas and we were waiting for the ship to leave port. My Mom had brought some magazines along and was setting them out on a table in the sitting area of our stateroom. As I spoke with her, I walked over, glanced down, and saw the man from my mind’s eye – the one who had all the answers – staring back at me. He was broody (or at least appeared to be) disenchanted, and his eyes held more intellect than any person appearing his age had right to. I walked to the table like an idiot in a trance and picked up the magazine. I can still remember it, nearly a dozen years later. It was Rolling Stone, and they had a 1970’s era Pink Floyd majestically plastered on the cover. David Gilmour was the subject of my fascination. The face of my questions and words. He existed.
I still have that magazine, along with nearly five-hundred pages of a tale that his blossoming personality inspired, not to mention two more books continuing his rise and/or fall and a spin off series revolving around those fictional souls close to him.

There were many times I wanted to join him in his world of nightmares and miracles, and leave my own teenage issues behind. I wanted his importance, his detachment, his grace. Until I realized, that the vampire’s grace and goodness, all of his rage and the full extent of his love were reflections of my own. HE was modeled after me and all of the dark and light I had inside. I took a sudden surprise to this realization. The more I poured into this vampire, the more human I became. And in that, we’ll both be living forever.
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Megan M. Caldwell