Hey there, readers! Today, we’re diving into the magical world of Marie-Hélène Lebeault, a true force in young adult speculative fiction. With over 30 books, including the Blood Magick Trilogy and the Evers Series, her stories are packed with adventure, time travel, and powerful coming-of-age themes that resonate with young and adult audiences alike. Known for creating immersive worlds, Marie-Hélène’s work reflects her love for storytelling and her passion for exploring the great outdoors.
Beyond writing, Marie-Hélène is a retired teacher who draws inspiration from nature, often seen hiking or cycling through Quebec’s beautiful landscapes. Her connection to nature often influences her stories, grounding her fantastical worlds in the beauty of the real one. Today, we’ll chat with her about her creative journey, her upcoming projects, and what keeps her inspiration flowing. So, grab your favorite drink and settle in for an enchanting conversation!
Newsletter: https://lwww.mhlebeaultauthor.substack.com
Website: http://www.mhlebeault.com
Coffee, tea, or cacao?
All of them, but in specific circumstances. Coffee in the morning, preferably while watching the sun rise. Tea in the afternoon, with cookies, and a book. Hot cocoa, with whipped cream and seasonal sprinkles, when returning from a cold-weather outing, while putting up seasonal decorations, or to watch the snow fall while sitting by the fire.
Favorite hangover recovery recipe?
Not a recipe but a tip to avoid or lessen them! If you take 2 capsules of Activated Charcoal with a large glass of water when you start drinking, the charcoal will bind the poison (aka alcohol). Don’t take it within 2 hours of taking medication asit might lessen the effect. This is not medical advice, always consult a medical professional!
What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?
Generally, I wake up at 5 am and start with coffee and silence. I spend the next 2-3 hours writing my WIP. After, I reply to email and social media engagement. If I have a paid gig, I’ll work from 9 to noon.
After lunch, I work on non-writing tasks such as book covers, graphics for social media, prepping Newsletters, coordinating cross-promotion with other authors, answer interview questions ;)
I have dinner with my kids. If I had to work during the day, I’ll often continue non-writing tasks after diner. Otherwise, I’ll either read on the porch or watch a movie/series.
When did you write your first book and how old were you?
I wrote my first book when I was 15 years old. It was a kind soap opera where all my friends were characters and I made up unlikely events. I wrote handwritten daily pages and was revered for my storytelling. My dreams of becoming an author were quickly squashed by my boomer parents who insisted I get an education. I became a teacher, got married, had kids and never found the time to write. When I did, I’d get bored with my WIPs and drop them. In 2019, I joined NaNoWrimo on a dare. Lo and behold, words appeared on the page and they’ve been flowing since. I was 48 years old. It’s never too late.
What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Very little. Pre-pandemic, I enjoyed traveling, hiking, visiting Six Flags parks, going to the beach, and reading. I published 4 books in 2020, 3 in 2021 and another 4 in 2022. I barely left the house. I stopped traveling for obvious reasons. I stopped hiking for various reasons. I bought an electric bike to ensure I was getting some exercise and it let me listen to a ton of audiobooks. In 2023, I wrote 10 books, and I think I wrote 10 this year too. I’ve lost track, and I’ve lost my mind! To answer the question, I spend most of my time writing, editing, marketing. I still read and listen to audiobooks. I ride my bike and walk by the river.
Is there a trope you find yourself going back to in multiple works?
I love writing the Chosen One trope because it taps into powerful themes like destiny, personal growth, and the battle between good and evil, which are always engaging to explore. The clear stakes and emotional journey of an ordinary character becoming extraordinary provide endless storytelling possibilities, and I enjoy reinterpreting the trope in fresh ways across different settings and genres. Plus, it's a great way for readers to connect with the protagonist and see their own potential reflected in the story.
What does your family think of your writing?
My parents think I’m the next J.K. Rowling. Before I started publishing books, I was the outcast. Now, I’m the AUTHOR. They’ve read all my books and every week my mom calls to tell me I should pitch my books to Disney and Netflix. On it, mom! Some of my extended family read my first series but when I started churning them out, I think they couln’t keep up. Meanwhile, my kids, who were in my targer age-group when I started, have not read my books and likely never will.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?
I’d say about 30 books, some of which are novellas. It’s hard to pick favorites, but Clarity Castle is awesome if I do say so myself! It’s a standalone Magical Realism novel where a teenager meets and interacts with 11 of herselves from alternate timelines. I’m dying to write a spinoff series for April.
Do you have any suggestions to help someone become a better writer? If so, what are they?
Hire a development editor for your first book. You will learn so much more than from attending a class or reading craft books.
Do you like to create books for adults?
I recently read a Midlife Magic series and wondered if I might start writing fantasy books for adults.
As the series progressed, I kept getting triggered by the very relatable protagonist. I remembered why I write YA. I prefer writing YA fantasy because I missed out on a lot of my youth due to strict parents, so this genre gives me a chance to explore those formative years I didn’t fully experience. I love focusing on themes of self-discovery, adventure, and emotional growth, which resonate deeply with younger readers and feel exciting to write about. Plus, I get triggered by real-life and adult themes, so YA allows me to dive into magical worlds and wonder without the heaviness of adult content, while still exploring meaningful and relatable stories.
What literary pilgrimages have you gone on?
Please don’t judge me, but I stopped in Forks while on my East Coast Campervan Expedition. IYKYK.
Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?
A bit of both. The first 10 books I wrote were original and they didn’t sell well. To be honest, I had no idea how to market books at the time. The next 10 were written to market and they did better and, while it’s an original twist on the Epic Fantasy genre, it’s still very tropey and reader-centered. I wrote 6 or 7 Sci-Fi books and I don’t think it’s my genre. Going forward, I’m going back to writing what I want.
What was the best money you ever spent as a writer?
I joined a writer’s retreat at the tail end of writing the final book in the Blood Magick Trilogy. Not only was I housed and fed for a week, I got to meet and interact with other writers. Because everyone was writing in different genres, they had fresh perspectives and ideas. That, and the workshops helped me unalive a character and the fallout with her friends. The dedicated writing time also led to me writing 30k words in a week. Blew my mind!
Do you write novels, novellas, short stories, episodic fiction, poems, screenplays, or something else? What is your preferred format?
I’ve written everything but poetry and screenplays. I like mixing it up and love ti participate in anthologies with other authors. As I’m clearly addicted to publishing books, the shorter the better! You will not find chunky books in my repertoire unless it’s an omnibus. I need to see it out into the world ASAP!
Are you traditionally or self published? Or both? Do you feel there are advantages to one over the other?
I’m a self-published author. Since I was near 50 when I started publishing books, I didn’t feel like I want to waste a year waiting on publishers’ responses. Also, I don’t think I could have handled getting so many refusal letters! I wanted to get my books into readers’ hands and self-publishing is great for that. I think if you’re an eager writer like me, self-publishing is the way to go. If you like to spend hours agonizing over a sentence, you might be a good fit for tradional publishing!
What is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything?
None of t is real. It’s a simulation. Ergo, everything is possible.
What’s the best way to market your books?
If I knew that, I’d be a 7-figure author!
What do you have coming next?
I’m currently in the middle of a Kickstarter campaign (October 8 to 24) for the Blood Magick Trilogy. Once that’s done, I’ll begin work on a spinoff series called The Academy Chronicles which tales place 10 years after the trilogy. All four books will be launched in 2025. I also have a new series of Fairytale Retellings starting in January. Busy girl!
Excerpt from Clarity Castle
I’d like to say I noticed it right away, that I somehow felt the strangeness in the air. However, the truth was that I had just gotten a less than desirable grade in my latest math test, and I was walking it off. The one-kilometre walk to the woods had taken the edge off my disappointment, and I was able to bring the self-recriminations to a low simmer. As I entered the woods, the world disappeared. There was nothing magical about that; it was just nature. It instantly grounded me, the earth pulling out my worries like so much fertilizer.
I loved walking these woods. There used to be more of them, but our town had been developing like crazy the last few years. As it stood, the little patch of heaven spread out over roughly eighty-four thousand square meters.
Most of the time, I would walk around the woods, looping the various trails for about thirty minutes, and then I’d go home. But when I had more time or needed a longer break, I’d cut through the quarry and follow the trail that led to the lake.
That’s where I was heading on that fateful day. There’s a barbed-wire fence around the perimeter of the quarry, so the aspiring trespasser would have to know where to cross.
Over the years, people started leaving clues. Just off the trail, there was a red ribbon tied to a tree. When the trail got muddy, good Samaritans placed rocks or fallen logs to ease the way.
It was always a little blinding when I came out of the woods and into the clearing. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw the lake across the field of flowers. Wait, that’s not right. There should be a clearing full of weeds, a road, and a parking lot between me and the lake. I blinked, thinking I’d lulled myself into my own imaginings. But there it was again—an expanse of perfectly manicured lawns and patches of flowers and shrubbery.
Compelled to investigate, I took a few steps and felt an unfamiliar firmness under my feet. There was a stone path etched in the dewy grass. Looking up as I walked the path, I turned away from the lake towards what should have been the quarry and stopped dead in my tracks. To my utter astonishment, instead of a pit of rocks, I saw a castle. Perhaps it was merely a mansion; I honestly didn’t know the difference. It was enormous.
Poor math grade notwithstanding, I was pretty good at math. I remembered reading that the quarry site was twenty-five acres. The owner wanted to build cooperative housing on it a few years back, but nothing came of it. My house sat on a two-acre lot. This house, or whatever the structure was called, had to be at least five times as big as our lot.
It looked like it was about four stories high. The huge stone structure was either square or rectangle in shape; it was hard to tell from where I stood. I started walking towards it. Each corner had a circular turret. The view of the lake must be amazing from there, I thought. On either side of the carriage doors were a pair of stone staircases that seemed to lead to a walled-in patio.
I followed the stone path to a larger path of pebbles or crushed stone. This one looked like a road or a driveway. One way led up to the castle, one way led to the lake, and another led to a group of smaller buildings to the left of the castle. I was torn. Where should I investigate first?
It occurred to me then that I was either dreaming or had somehow been transported to the past. I really should have taken the time to learn about our town’s history when we moved here ten years ago. In my defence, I was six years old at the time, and this was never covered in school.
If I were dreaming, it wouldn’t matter where I went. I could explore at my leisure, and nothing could go wrong. If I had been whisked to the past, I was likely trespassing, and that could turn out badly. I had read enough time-travelling and historical romance novels to know I would need to blend in, and quickly.
I looked down at myself and saw I was still wearing my jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. If this was a dream, I could close my eyes and choose a more suitable attire. But which one? What time was this? In any case, there was no time in the distant past where tight-fitting trousers and a V-neck top were appropriate. At the very least, I should choose a loose-fitting dress that covered most of my exposed skin.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a simple gown that would make me look respectable in any century. I envisioned a blue Victorian dress over a muslin chemise and petticoats. I twirled on myself to let the skirts fan out, but I saw no change in my attire as I opened my eyes. Not a dream.
Should I go back to the woods? Perhaps I had inadvertently walked through a portal or crossed a veil. I retraced my steps but felt no different as I entered the woods again. Observing attentively, I saw no difference. The best way to find out would be to head home.
After about ten minutes, uneasiness crept upon me. I should have reached the beginning of the new street by now, but I was still in the woods. I kept walking. The path, or rather a well-worn strip of forest floor, continued ahead. I followed it to the road. It was hard to find my bearings, but I was sure this should be highway 104 heading to Knowlton and Sutton. Instead, it was a wide dirt road, with no cars in sight. There was nothing but woods on either side of the road, in both directions. This was a Cowansville of the past. One where my home didn’t exist.
When one was lost, one should head to the nearest store to ask for directions. Barring that, the nearest home. That was the castle. Surely this road led to the castle, as it was the only one I had encountered thus far. I started walking.
After about twenty minutes, I reached a lane. Squinting, I could see the castle at the end of it and headed down the lane. I would at least be arriving at the front door. As it grew nearer, I was again struck by its size. Seen from the front, it was majestic. The lane went around a circular topiary garden, though a narrow path went through it.
Once inside the garden, I realized it was much larger than I had estimated. My head barely cleared the manicured shrubs bordering the garden. It was reassuring. I didn’t feel quite as exposed as I had while I had been approaching the castle, though my presence had yet to be detected as far as I could see.
I hovered at the edge of the garden. Once I crossed the lane, I’d have to go up the stairs and knock on the door. I had a feeling there wouldn’t be a doorbell.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It was that creepy feeling you got when someone was watching you. Instinctively, I looked up and saw movement in one of the upstairs windows. Like a ghost, the person vanished behind a swish of drapes.
Someone was home. Chin up, I made my way to the door and grasped the ancient brass door knocker. I raised it, then knocked hard three times. Straining to hear, I could detect no sound coming from inside. Clasping my hands behind my back so they wouldn’t shake, I checked my posture and plastered a polite smile on my face.
The butler swung the door open, gave me a once over, and bowed as he moved out of the way to let me enter.
“Good morning,” I said nervously.
The man, oblivious to my greeting, extended his arm and motioned for me to precede him in the hall. Once he had closed the door, he pointed to a large upholstered bench. I sat. He bowed and left.
Though the outside of the castle looked downright medieval, the inside had more polish. Where I had expected wall-to-wall stone, I found the hall to be entirely decked in a dark, well-polished wood. I was itching to get up and look around, but I stayed put. I was trespassing and poorly attired; it wouldn’t do to be caught snooping as well.
From where I sat, my eyes followed one of the staircases to the second-floor landing. There were portraits up there, but I couldn’t see the faces clearly. I saw a bit of a blue skirt peeking out from behind one of the columns. I was about to call out to my little ghost when I heard someone approaching on my right.
“You’re right on time,” said the elegant lady as she glided across the floor, arms outstretched as though to embrace me.
On impulse, I stood as she neared me. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was, “I… I..”
“Goodness, what are you wearing, Clare?” she asked.
“How do you know my name?” I asked, finally finding my voice.
Her smile dimmed a little, and she peered at me, pursing her lips. “I see,” she replied. Turning on her heels, she walked back the way she had come and called out, “come along, Clare.”
How does she know my name? I wondered. She clearly thought she knew me. Perhaps we had met, but I had forgotten. I checked my head for a bump and found none. This really was most peculiar.
The lady had stridden to the far end of the hall before she noticed I had not followed. “Don’t just stand there; come meet the others,” she beckoned.
Comments