Back to the Land of the Living...

To all of my loveliest of lovelies,

A little birdy mentioned {a.k.a. has been harassing me} that I really needed to rouse myself from my slumber, emerge from my dark, secret hidey-hole, and come online to quell the rumors, quaff the speculation, and quiet the fears. To let you all know that I have not:

a) died a horrible death in any way, shape, or form

b) gone flying off the earth as a result of a hitherto unrecorded shift of axis on our beloved planet

c) locked myself in my bathroom and, unable to free myself or to gain the attention of my Call of Duty-playing son, taken up permanent residence

d) hitched a ride with a space alien

Or even:

e) ascended to a higher realm, leaving y'all {I'm in the South now, I should probably get used to this} selfishly behind

I am okay. Most of the time. I think.

I don't even know what to say by way of explanation. Life, illness, personal crises . . . they all take their toll, especially when you try to ignore the toll it is taking and push through it by gritting your teeth, over and over again, until there is just no more energy left for anything. Sometimes, you have to pull back, lick your wounds, and with any luck, allow yourself to heal. And that, my loves, is what I have been trying to do, desperately, all year.

I think I'm ready now.

It's time for me to get back in saddle and reclaim the life I love. The writing . . . it's there. It has not forsaken me. Maggie and Company have been whispering to me all along, assuring me all was okay, that they would be there when I was ready. And they are. I'm pushing to complete IN CHARM'S WAY {please, please don't groan, sigh, or stamp your feet with exasperation that it is so behind schedule -- I have put quite enough pressure on myself as it is, LOL}, and . . . I think it's good. Quite good, in fact. I know you were looking for a publication date of this fall, but obviously that didn't happen. The reason the book shows a 2025 release date is that it was removed from the schedule to remove the pressure from me. Just as soon as I turn it in, it will find its way back onto said publishing schedule, and all will be well.

Just a few asides:

If you have emailed me or messaged me, I'm very sorry but I have not {again, please don't smack me} read it. My online presence has been woefully, um, lacking {just restating the obvious, ahem}. Email, FB, blogging . . . I just didn't have the brain power or the energy to address any of it.

MadelynAlt.com has indeed been compromised. I'm working on that, too. It will be back, better than ever, soon, but for now I think I had better reserve myself for IN CHARM'S WAY, no?

Yes, I have moved. I'm now in the greater Charlotte, NC area. No, this does not mean Maggie will be moving away from Stony Mill. Yes, this was a good move.

So, thank you all for your kind posts here, your worrying, and for quite frankly noticing that I hadn't been around. I now know that should I ever fall in the bathtub and get eaten by my beloved pets, someone will notice. Yay! ;> I have said before that I have the best readers in the world, and I will keep saying that until I no longer have breath to say anything. You all are awesome, phenomenal, super-stupendous people, and I am proud to have the connection to you through my whimsical scribbles and imaginings. It's quite an amazing thing, when you think about it. To me, at least.

Much love to ALL,


Mad {madly!}

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World... And I really mean it!

There once was a woman named Mad

Whose home was looking rather sad

It sagged where it shouldn't

Lift spirits? It wouldn't!

It was making her feel really, well, kind of bad...

Color and life it was most certainly lacking

So she set out to do a bit of spackling

"A bit" turned into "A Freaking LOT!"

Months passed by, nerves were shot

She had zero free time for internet yakking...

Spackle and dust became her life

Each new project filled with strife

Old houses, well, they take a lot of care

{Weary remodelers, beware!}

Project stresses can run especially rife!

Plaster walls come crumbling down

and leave owners with big frowns

Hardwood floors look lovely, so true

but bring on refinishing blues

Spackling, sanding, painting, more sanding... Yikes! Zounds!

But words are Madly's great love

Storytelling fits her like a glove

She's ready to put down her tools

To get back to ghosts and ghouls

And other mysteries, as below and above...

HOME FOR A SPELL comes out at New Year

Yes, there are more Bewitching books, never fear!

I have some doozies planned for you

Stay tuned, my lovelies! If you only knew!

Oh, the things that will be coming out, my dears!

Home For A Spell, Hardcover release 1/4/11

ISBN# 0425238679

Available for pre-order now!

Meanwhile...

If you know of anyone looking for a castle...

A charmer in the heart of the great Midwest...

In an Indiana town that is as Mayberry as, well, Mayberry...

A town with tree-lined streets...

And ice cream socials and pancake breakfasts at the local fire station...

And a drive-in restaurant that still puts on sock hops some Saturday nights...

And where Friday night varsity games draw numbers that give most local churches attendance envy...

Let me know...

Because Castle Alt is going up for sale! Woot!

The Writing Life -- Living and Loving It

I have a confession to make.

I -- Madelyn Alt, Author -- am not always in the mood to write.

I know. I know! I have been blessed with this crazy, wonderful, chaotic career. A career any working writer would be proud to call their own. It is the least I can do to give it my full attention. The depth and breadth of my energy. The last shreds of mojo I have in me.

And I do. Much of the time.

Sometimes, though, life throws these little temptations my way. You know what I'm talking about. Like a sunny summer day with the bluest of cloudless skies that not-so-subtly sends a sparkling, come-hither invitation through your open windows. Come outside and play, why don't you? You have to admit, it would be almost criminal not to give in to the urge to take the pooches out for a long walk on a day like that. Or how about those moments when I sit down to write and one of my Meezer girls instantly decides that's the perfect opportunity for some quality facetime. It's not an easy thing to resist the unrelenting headbutts of a Siamese cat, let me tell you. And then oftentimes the distractions stem from one of my boys who has something important he wants to share with me and cannot wait another moment to do just that. It's so easy to get lost watching the thought processes play across their young faces, the dance of laughter in their eyes. So easy to lock the computer down safely from mischievous Meezer paws and errant puppy noses and listen to my sons tell their tales with my heart in my throat, wondering how I got to be so lucky. So easy to just exist within the moment.

Life. I have to say, I kind of enjoy living it. Really living it. It keeps me from getting too serious; from taking myself too seriously. It is rather a matter of perspective. That is not to say I don't have worries, doubts, and fears working to drag me back down into the mire, just like everyone else. I do. But the less I let them have their way with me, and the more I pay attention to the good things around me, the more their hold on me seems to lessen, and the more energy and focus I have when I do put my fingers to keyboard. The writing, I have discovered, will be there for me when I need it to be, better than ever for the distractions and temptations that I allow to steal my attention from time to time. Paradoxically so.

What about you? What tempted you today, and did you give in to the moment?

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

Feathering My Nest...

Happy New Year to all! With 2009 now firmly underway, I thought I'd take a moment to update everyone on what's been going on around here.

Book 5 in The Bewitching Mysteries now has a title: WHERE THERE'S A WITCH, due to be released 7/3/09. Revisions came in over the holidays, but they are done, done, done, and I'm glad, glad, glad. My editor is a wonder and has the best suggestions, always, for little ways to make things clearer, better, bigger. With those out of the way, I am easing my way into Book 6.

What else have I been doing? Feathering my nest -- in other words, remodeling! One of our bathrooms is in the middle of a much-needed revamp, and while it's admittedly a little distressing to glance in the open doorway to find that you can look straight through the open floor joists clear to the basement, in the end it will all be worth it. The crew is actually working faster than I had expected; they just started on Wednesday, and should be done by Wednesday or Thursday of next week. While they are doing that, the family and I have been adding some much-needed color to our home. We've put the finishing touches on three rooms, have a fourth nearly done, and have a couple more rooms to evaluate. Not that Castle Alt will be a finished project when the rest of the rooms are painted, by any means. There is always something that needs done. Usually many somethings, just waiting their turn to hit the top of the priority list.

Still, it feels good to have the painting out of the way, at least. It's a little early for this to qualify as spring cleaning, but that's being accomplished as well as a byproduct of moving the furniture to the center of the room, sweeping cobwebs, cleaning or completely updating light fixtures, removing drapes, vacuuming corners. By the time spring actually arrives, my home should be in pretty good shape. :-)

Wishing you all only the best and brightest of blessings in the upcoming months,


Mad {madly!}

Baby, It's Cold Outside...

I must admit, the local Wal-Mart has never been one of my favorite places, but it serves a purpose. This afternoon I had to venture out in the cold to do some grocery shopping, so off I hied myself, sans children, and sans poochays. Being without one or the other of the two choices can prove a rare event for me, enough to make even Wally World appealing, so I was determined to enjoy my time. I made a point of meandering through the Christmas area, checking out all of the new-and-improved LED lights--seriously cool {and I think that's the point! LOL...}, selecting wrapping paper and curling ribbon, trying to remember whether anyone needed a new stocking this year. And then, because it's something I think I do nearly every shopping trip this time of year, I swung by the big stands of Christmas music to search for new offerings.

I love, love, love Christmas music. There is something about it that makes the season feel real to me, even when I'm not exactly in the holiday spirit. I love the oldies, by artists such as Nat King Cole and Burl Ives, and I love the new and fresh, too. Certain songs bring memories of long ago rushing back to me, crystal clear in the blink of an eye. Silver Bells. Silent Night. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas. Sleigh Ride. Love, love, love. I came home with a Very Special Christmas CD set that I had managed not to pick up before, so I consider the shopping trip a roaring success.

And movies. Christmas movies galore. Anything that features a Christmas setting within it at some point in time qualifies, in my mind. All of the kid favorites, of course, like Home Alone and Elf and Muppet Christmas Carol and The Santa Clause, and then there are the ones that cater more to the adult audience. Besides the old favorites, like Christmas in Connecticut and White Christmas and It's a Wonderful Life, I love the newer ones like Love, Actually and Serendipity and even Funny Farm. Mood movies to put you in a holiday frame of mind, necessary when one is decorating the house or making designer Christmas cookies or wrapping presents.

Back to Wal-Marting. {Yes, that's a verb. At least it is around here.} Upon leaving the store and braving the danger zone of a parking lot, I found that even the weather was conspiring to ferret out the holiday spirit in even the Scroogiest of Scrooges. An inch of the finest of snowflakes covered the ground, with more coming down all around, blowing and billowing in freshets of wind. With everything loaded up for home, I stood beside my car for a long moment, eyes closed and face raised to the sky as the wind and icy flakes scrubbed away any residual worries I might have been holding onto. I popped my new CDs into the stereo and blasted the music all the way home, where vegetable beef stew was simmering away in the oven. Yum.

And it's still snowing . . . Yay!!

I think I know what I want for Christmas this year, and it doesn't come with a price tag attached. Do you have your heart's desire fixed in your mind?


Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

A Night at the Opera -- with the Phantom of the Opera

I wrote this for The Witchy Chicks, so thought I would share it here since I'm still off line and on deadline:


I have been living in a hole lately. Not my fault, but not exactly avoidable. What this means is, I have done nothing, absolutely nothing, that could fall under the "miscellaneous culture" tag. No opera, no concerts, not even a movie. Heck, not even a dinner out!

I am, of late, culturally challenged.

So, with that in mind I bring to you tonight a memory of one of my all-time favorite musicals, Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. No, I have never seen it on stage. Yes, I had heard the LP of the music and fell in love with the music. But {but!} when ALW brought it to the big screen and changed the vision of the Phantom somewhat from disfigured psychopath to disfigured tragic man with a few unfortunate psychotic tendencies explained by his need to control an out-of-control world that would never understand him, a world that turned against him the moment he was born with his physical handicap, I fell completely and utterly under the spell. This was a Phantom I could understand. This was a Phantom I could pity. This was a Phantom in which I could see the man, not just the travesty.

The movie did it for me in every way.

I can't even begin to describe the sumptuous sets, the swell of the full orchestra that pours into you until you feel almost bursting with the music itself, the intrigue, the mystery. The sweetness of Christine {in the movie version, she is an innocent and very much naive of her own power over this mysterious man}, and the pure, knight-in-shining-armor love of her Raoul. But the Phantom . . . oh, the Phantom. Dark, dangerous, sinuous, sinister, mysterious, a bad boy in every sense of the word. His love for the music is evident from the first moment he appears on screen as he lurks several levels below the stage and allows the music to fill him. He smolders on screen from the moment he holds out his hand to Christine, a command to come to him. Confident on the outside, but pleading and yearning on the inside. . . The Phantom's power lies in his bravado, and he knows it. What's more, he's learned how to wield it well.


"I am your Angel of Music, Come to me, Angel of Music."

It still sends shivers down my spine.

After three and a half years of wearing out my CDs, I still can’t listen to the music or watch the movie without tears, and I think that's quite amazing in this day and age. The emotional honesty of the premier voices never fails to amaze me. Emmy Rossum’s haunting soprano blends seamlessly with Patrick Wilson’s quietly accomplished Raoul, and the circle is completed by the raw energy and heartstopping pathos in Gerard Butler’s appealing baritone--sometimes rough-edged, sometimes smooth and pure, but always, always compelling with sheer masculine power. If you have somehow managed to miss this, do whatever it takes to get your hands on it. You’ll never forget it.

Here are some favorite scenes/music:

ALW wanted the Phantom to have a kind of rock and roll quality -- and boy, did he ever.


As evidenced by the way he swings that cape. ;>
Music of the Night is one of the most beautiful pieces in the entire production.
Desire . . .


Love . . .


Betrayal . . .


Desperation . . .


And in the end, sacrifice . . .

All the elements of a timeless work that will live on forever.

And Gerard Butler as the Phantom . . . who would have thought at the time? Honestly and truly, Gerard Butler does tortured and conflicted better than anyone. His performance in some of these scenes completely blew me away. So much emotion. I know, as someone with empathic tendencies I'm more than a little susceptible . . . but there is just something very special about it.

I leave you now with a POTO fan video from one of my favorite video editors, BluEyedDaizy Productions. This aria appeared as the epilogue in Ken Hill's stage production of POTO to music from The Pearl Fishers by Bizet. Haunting aria, absolutely gorgeous voices, and Blu's ability to match clips from the film to the music with some truly beautiful special effects all make this an all-time standout for me. Even if you have no time to watch the clips above, please watch this one video and see if it speaks to you, too. :)




Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

Where-Oh-Where Has Mad Gone?

I just wanted to pop in here to let you all know what's been up on my end of things and give you a heads up about where I will be in the immediate future: Conspicuously Absent. :)

You see, I had rather a rude awakening the morning of June 30th. Out of the blue, I was faced with the sudden rupture of two disks in my lower back and a fairly excruciating level of pain that only seemed to get worse, no matter what I did. Bedrest was the only option while my doctors decided the best course of action, but even that and all the best painkillers in the world didn't seem to help. Surgery, however, did, although I am finding myself with widely vacillating levels of energy and am having to face up to the fact that I'm obviously not as young as I would like to believe, which seems to be affecting my bounce-back capabilities.

Anyway, as a result of all this, July went Poof! and here I am now in mid-August, seven days out of surgery and with a deadline fast approaching. Which means, my lovelies, that I am going to have to stick my nose to the grindstone in order to meet my writing commitments so that when next July rolls around, all of you will be able to get your hands on the fifth in the Bewitching Mysteries right on schedule.

For you. Always, for you. Because obviously *I* derive no pleasure from the creation of this morass of the mystical and mysterious.

Ahem.

I'll try to pop in from time to time, but feel free to party on here amongst yourselves without me... :)

Back soon!


Mad {madly!}

The View From Here . . .

I've been asked more than once, and since I've been out and about recently, taking photos of the surrounding countryside, I thought I would share a little bit of what it's like in Maggie's part of the world. And since Maggie shares my world, it shouldn't be too hard.

My home is not grand. It's a 140-year-old Victorian farmhouse that rests on a quiet street in a small town in NE Indiana, complete with wraparound porch and matching bay windows that would make lovely window seats if heating registers didn't negate that possibility. :) It was built at a time when things were made solid and made right {for the most part, heh}. Over the years, things have settled here and there--few rooms are square, floors creak and aren't what anyone would call level--but it has seen a lot in its time, and there is a sense of that. It's a work-in-process, never completed--something is always needing fixed, or fixed-up, or torn out and completely done-over--but it's stately in an everyday-familiar sort of way, and it has a grace and serenity that speaks of having seen many days, many families, many lifelines, and much love, and that appeals to me.

Indiana in the summer is lush and green and beautiful in a way that makes me feel alive and very much a part of the inner workings of the world. I mirror this, as many do on a subconscious level, with my love of hearth and home, with my love of neat and orderly vegetable gardens and wildly chaotic flower beds, clipped lawns, and overgrown trees. I love the Midwest. I love the way that the world progresses all around us, and while it does reach us here, we retain a bit of the old ways, kept sacred by a few of us who remember. I love the circular path of the seasons, and the way that no matter how many years and seasons pass, there is always an air of newness to each one, as though it was the first we've ever witnessed. I love the sound of the wind in the trees, the way the sun looks mid-morning as it glints through tree leaves, and the golden glow of it as it begins its descent in quiet evening hours. I love the rain--wild, at times, and at others, as gentle as a mother's kiss. I love the smell of freshly clipped grass, and the first lilacs of spring. I love the way the wind makes ocean waves out of a field of wheat, and I love the way it whispers through the drying cornstalks in autumn. This is Indiana--all of the Midwest, really--and it is not just "flyover territory," as I've heard it so uncharitably referred to by people on both coasts whose lives move a little faster than ours. You may view our ways of life as being old-fashioned, but that doesn't make us relics. We just blend the old with the new and go on about our business the way people of the heath always have. :)

So, what do we do here?

We hang out {though not often in trees . . .}

We get together for backyard barbecues on indecently hot and muggy summer days, when it would probably be smarter to stay indoors in the air-conditioning . . . and I will not mention the mosquitoes. Or the ants. Or even the earwigs.

We go fishing

and sometimes find unexpected treasures.

We talk to frogs,

make funny faces,

and do goofy things.

Some of us grow out our hair and don't really like being caught in the garden,

but we can always find peace in our own backyard.

Sometimes we venture out elsewhere,














where the antics of the natives never fail to amuse and delight,

and where sometimes we unearth more unexpected treasures along the highways and byways.
We might go for a bike ride through the twilight down a long, deserted road
and discover that beauty lies around every bend.
It can be found in simple things, like a freshly tilled field,
in an old bridge that leads to nowhere,

in the sadness of abandoned homes and farms,

in nature,

even in the angular structure of a feed mill

or a water tower silhouetted by the evening sun.

We weather many storms

but stay strong through it all, because we have each other.

Sometimes we even stay up past the witching hour

and gaze in wonder at the moon.

And when it all gets to be a bit much,

we rest.

I hope you all enjoy this glimpse. This place, these people, are special to me. :)

Wishing you all faery kisses and midsummer blessings,


Mad {madly!}