DEBORAH CROMBIE: Here on Jungle Red Writers we have few bigger thrills than introducing a friend to our readers. So it is my great pleasure today to bring you G.S. Norwood--or, as our regular readers know her, Gigi Norwood! Gigi and I have not only been writing buddies for many a year, we share a love of urban fantasy as well as mystery. And although she writes in both genres, DEEP ELLUM PAWN hits all my favorite urban fantasy notes. Here's Gigi to introduce you to Ms. Eddy Weekes and a bit of magic.
GIGI NORWOOD: I believe in magic.
Not the David Copperfield, big stage illusion kind. Not the Harry Potter
wave-a-wand-and-say-the-right-words kind.
I believe in the natural kind that arises from the energy shared by
people who gather around a common belief.
You’ve probably felt that energy yourself, humming through a
crowd of grandparents, parents, grand and great-grandchildren at the start of
last movie in the Star Wars triple trilogy.
If you gasped along with the little ones as the snowflakes began to fall
at the end of the first act of The
Nutcracker, you have felt it. It’s
the energy that whispers amazing things are possible, and Tinkerbell will
survive, if only we believe.
To write urban fantasy, as I do, you have to believe that
kind of life-force energy hums just under the surface of even the grittiest
city. You have to peel back the layers
of concrete and asphalt right down to the dirt, then call on the folklore and
fairy tales, old songs and old wives’ tales that have grown up around a place. You
weave in history and legend until the story has one foot in reality, and one
foot in fantasy.
My novelette, Deep
Ellum Pawn, began with that mix of practicality and possibility. I had an old Charlie Daniels song stuck in my
mind. The Devil Went Down to Georgia is catchy, but I couldn’t help but
wonder why anyone would want a fiddle made of gold. Gold is a dense metal, heavy to hold, and not
very resonant. A golden
fiddle—particularly one from the Devil himself—would likely sound less than musical. So, what do you do with it? Melt it down? Take it to a pawn shop?
The moment that thought popped into my mind a character
followed. That’s how I met Ms. Eddy
Weekes, owner of Deep Ellum Pawn. It’s a
dusty pawn shop in one of Dallas’ oldest neighborhoods, but there’s more going
on behind the façade than anyone might suspect.
The story flowed quickly, and I began to wonder if I’d made
it up, or if some force beyond my imagination was prompting me to write it all
down the way it “really” happened. Every
time I paused to research a new plot point, I found not only the answer I was
looking for, but reams of additional information that made the whole idea even
richer and deeper.
For example, hellhounds make an appearance in the
story. And why not? The dance halls and street corners of Deep
Ellum gave many American blues legends an early career boost. The district is only a few short blocks away
from the building where bluesman Robert Johnson recorded his song, Hellhound on My Trail. Johnson himself gave me my first clue about
how to manage hellhounds when his lyrics mentioned hotfoot powder—a folk charm
used to harden the threshold of a home against supernatural invaders. A bit further down the hellhound trail I
learned that to look one in the eye three times means death. Great stuff for an urban fantasist.
When different ideas, drawn from history, folklore, and my
own imagination, all fall together to make a coherent and entertaining whole,
that feels like magic to me.
So what about you, Reds and Readers? Have you ever had a project come together “as
if by magic”? Have you felt the energy
that moves through a crowd to make magic seem real? Do you believe?
Deep Ellum Pawn cover art © 2019 by Chaz Kemp
Amazon Kindle Edition Link: https://amzn.to/36Z8GNT
Dance of the Snowflakes credited to the Royal Ballet
Author photo: Marcy Weiske Jordan
