I met Karen when I saw her featured on another author's blog post, and saw that she's also a Wild Rose Press author. We struck up a lively correspondence, are doing blog exchanges, and are reading each other's books. We share our fascination with the paranormal, although I have no ability in that area--I've never seen a ghost. But I do believe.
About Karen
Author of the Trans-Pecos, Sacred
Emblem, Sacred Journey, and Sacred Messenger series, as well as Fox Tale, Kissing
Kin, Wild Rose Pass, The Keys: Voice of the Turtle and more, Karen is a
best-selling author, motivational keynote speaker, IT technical editor, wife,
and all-around pilgrim of life. She writes multicultural, offbeat love stories
steeped in the supernatural. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually,
Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks
became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading
feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Novels offered an imaginative
escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine,
learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the
University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Texas Piney Woods with her
husband Peter and her mews—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard
dog.
About FOX TALE
What separates perception from
deception―illusion from reality?
Fox Tale is a paranormal romance
set in Kyoto and Tokyo, Japan. It’s about a woman who’s terrified of heights. When
Chase saves Ava from plunging down a mountain, he diverts her fears with tales
of Japanese kitsune—shapeshifting foxes—and she begins a journey into
the supernatural.
She’s attracted to Chase, both
physically and metaphysically, yet primal instincts urge caution when shadows
suggest more than meets the eye.
She’s torn between him and Rafe,
her ex, when a chance reunion reignites their passion, but she struggles to
overcome two years of bitter resentment. Did Rafe jilt her, or were they pawns
of a larger conspiracy? Are the ancient legends true of kitsunes
twisting time and events?
****
Background of Fox Tale
My husband works for a Japanese
company. When he was instructed to meet with his Tokyo team, I leapt at the
chance to accompany him.
The next thing I did was research
Japan’s cryptids. What appeared were Inari’s kitsunes or fox
spirits—and voilà , the idea for Fox Tale was born.
What are
Inari’s kitsunes? Japan’s history of foxes is complex.
According to Fox
Tale’s leading man, Rafe, “Originally, Inari was the concept of a successful
rice harvest. Over time, devotees fleshed out that belief, and Inari became the
androgynous god of wealth.”
“And the kitsunes?”
asked the protagonist, Ava.
“The relationship
has always been cooperative…Initially, foxes kept rice fields free from
rodents, ensuring good crop yields. Eventually, people humanized the foxes into
guardians and agents.”
While my husband attended meetings,
I explored Tokyo, sometimes alone on foot and sometimes with a group tour. I
took copious notes, and each site I visited became part of my developing story.
With the supernatural element, as well as the locale established, my
imagination began taking flight.
I spoke to locals as often as
possible, asking if they believed in kitsune--or if their neighbor or
grandmother believed in them. (Luckily, many Japanese speak English!) Not one
admitted to believing in the old superstitions, but almost all knew of someone
who did.
Said Fox Tale’s
antagonist, Ichiro, “Most Japanese live in concrete canyons, and rational
university educations replace superstition. Still, fox stories persist through
theater, festivals, language, and literature…or kiterature as I call it.”
“Despite a waning
belief?” I leaned closer.
“Even today, some
believe in fox possession…although believing in kitsunetsuki might not
be fashionable in this age of supercomputers and artificial intelligence,
stories still circulate in the tabloids and mass media.”
“For example?”
“In 2019, a
doomsday cult member rammed his car into pedestrians on Takeshita
Street, then pled not guilty on the grounds that the cult was fox possessed.
And as recently as 2022, the Sessho-seki split in two.”
Skeptical, I
squinted. “The what did what?”
“The killing
stone…according to legend, it imprisoned an evil nogitsune vixen. Her
spirit escaped when it split in half and began spewing sulfur fumes, killing
anyone that approached…For over a thousand years, Japanese medical
practitioners considered kitsunetsuki a disease. Even into the twentieth
century, psychologists believed fox possession caused mental illness.”
“But not anymore…”
Crossing my arms, I hugged myself, seeking reassurance. “Right?”
Gathering all the information I
could from locals, as well as researching online, the plot for Fox Tale began
to take shape. Once I had the realistic component that tied the supernatural to
the natural, I had the storyline. Then the characters emerged as the story
unfolded in my mind.
When my husband finished his
meetings in Tokyo, we visited Kyoto, where we toured Fushimi Inari. The
mountain is sacred in the Shinto religion, a place where “deities coexist with
nature” and where, some believe, Inari resides.
Fushimi Inari has an
ethereal presence. Its otherworldly aura and scenery are difficult to describe,
but if anything supernatural could occur, it would happen on that
mountain.
While at that shrine, the various
parts merged into the basis of Fox Tale: the supernatural element, general
locale, plot, characters, and finally the specific location for the
otherworldly activity.
Lo and behold, a novel was born.
****
Excerpt
I applied my
makeup with an artist’s hand, blending three shades of eyeshadow and going
heavy on the mascara. Then I slipped into the black cocktail dress I’d bought
for the occasion--a fusion of chic and slutty.
Wish I knew what Rafe planned for my
birthday. Dinner at an upscale restaurant? Pub food at a sports bar?
“A surprise,” was
all he’d said.
What’s the fine line between dressed to kill
and overdressed? Glancing at the mirror, I glimpsed the exposed
décolletage, then examined my naked left hand. More importantly, is tonight the night? After
dating for three years, the conversation had finally turned to rings and
weddings, and with graduation a month away, I was eager to take the next step.
At six o’clock
sharp, I sat by the door, butterflies fluttering in my belly.
Ten minutes
passed, fifteen. I texted him. An hour later, I called. When he didn’t pick up,
I left a voicemail.
At eight o’clock,
I checked my email. No messages, no texts--radio silence.
At nine o’clock, I
removed my makeup, the black, smoky taupe, mauve, and greige streaks on the
cotton pad mirroring my mood. After showering, I picked at soggy leftovers as I
studied my bare left hand. Leftovers…
When the phone
dinged, I flinched. Rafe?
Mia--Guess who’s at Tootsie’s?
And Rafe’s not alone. What’s going on?--
I sat back, stunned.
He wouldn’t break up with me on my
birthday--without even the courtesy of telling me--would he?
****
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