A few years ago, a friend of a friend knew the owner of a witchy shop in Chicago. I was going to be in town for a week, and the owner invited me to do a reading and book signing. Great! The coordinator and I exchanged enthusiastic emails. She joked that she didn't know there were witches in Texas. (It's a big place, darlin'.) We discussed the reading. We discussed the event. We even got down to the important details of the after-party: Did I prefer red wine or white? I bought

No longer working for the Three Initial Company has an unexpected occupational hazard: I forget when Labor Day is. Fortunately, a post this week reminded me it was coming up. And then, as reminders often do, it jogged my memory about a previous post that was much more interesting than having a day off work: what was it like to actually work in ancient Egypt? So I dug it out of the archives, dusted off the sand, and decided it was time for an update. Turns out working in ancie

July 21, 1969. My leg bounced with nervous excitement as Neil Armstrong descended the ladder. I was sixteen years old, crammed into the living room with family and friends, and convinced I was watching gods walk on the moon. Who else but gods could stride between worlds? It wasn’t the first time space had dazzled me. Eight years earlier, on May 5, 1961, my teacher marched our class into the school auditorium, where a hulking nineteen-inch black-and-white television perched on

I worked for a big, three-initial company for twenty years as a writer, editor, and publications manager. With 15 writers as direct reports and more competing demands on my time than I can remember, I lived by my calendar and became so proficient in juggling that I considered a career in the circus. During that time, the company invested heavily in agile. Not gonna lie, I rather liked the methodology. Seven years ago, I left the company and began writing novels. Or as I like

How I shop for clothes for the main character of The Wheel of the Year Mysteries.

Miranda and Caliban: The Magic Beneath The Tempest Synopsis: Start with Shakespeare's Tempest. Add a girl growing up in isolation on an enchanted island, hidden away by her father, a powerful magus determined to keep her safe at any cost. What of Miranda, the dutiful daughter shaped by his will? What of Caliban, the so-called savage bound to serve him? Start with Miranda and Caliban. In this luminous retelling, Jacqueline Carey turns the lens. Miranda is tenderhearted, lovi

Tarot doesn’t behave the same way in fiction as it does in real life. That’s where things get interesting. In my previous blog post, I mentioned that The Wheel of the Year Mysteries really has four main characters: Maren, a witch Cyrus, her tech-billionaire partner A shadowy villain, who self-identifies as Alexander the Great, determined to keep them apart … and Tarot. Maren and Cyrus follow their instincts. Villains follow their ambitions. Tarot follows its own rules. When T

February and March turned into an unexpectedly thematic reading months. I didn’t plan it, but every book circled the same gravitational pull: power—who holds it, how it’s performed, and what it costs. From royal image-making and wartime espionage to witch hunts, tech-world manipulation, magical systems, and a futuristic homicide detective who never lets go of a case … the throughline was unmistakable. Some books dazzled. Some frustrated me. A few did both in the same breath.

Maren Lilienthal, Cyrus Harper, and a mysterious adversary from The Wheel of the Year Mysteries hold Tarot cards that unveil their destinies and intentions: Maren with the Wheel of Fortune, Cyrus with the Knight of Pentacles, and the shadowy figure with the Magician card, foretelling a tale of magick love, and looming conflict. Fifteen years ago, I had an idea for a mystery novel. The sleuth would be a witch. The problem? I had no idea how a witch would actually solve the cri