Origin | Nell

It began in 2013, with a drawing.

Or maybe it began long before that – when a young girl (about 7 years old) heard, “I will always buy you all the books you want,”

I found my way to the mythology section. I had discovered a new type of heaven. I filled my basket with a variety – Irish, Scottish, Welsh, English, Classic…Some were new books, some were used. In the end, my basket was so heavy it grazed the floor as I lugged it to the front of the store, stopping every few steps. I made it, and my mom did not look thrilled.

The price rang up over $200. My mom went pale. I remember it so clearly. I remember feeling guilt, but also thinking that every book was the most important thing in the universe.

I walked out of Powell’s with a stack of fairy and mythology books and an amended thought from my mom; “I will buy you all the books you want within reason.”

Little did she know, I would fall in love with fairy tales – with selkies and asrai, kelpies and fachan. Those books were the best BEST money she ever spent on me, for something that wasn’t a necessity.

Back to 2013. I was in college, working on my accounting degree, and I was recovering from a near death miscarriage. I started taking writing, then I started taking creative writing classes. I almost minored in writing. I was working on science fiction, when I started to doodle. That picture…that’s Nell.

I didn’t know much about Nell, he was in the early days and he didn’t speak to me much. I did know he had a flute like nose that he could play music from (he has since graduated to just playing the instrument, and has a normal nose), and he had wings. He was playful and lived in a little house in a tree. He was prone to getting in trouble. He had no family, and he felt quite alone.

I didn’t use Nell for a long time, not until 2015 or 2016 when Krissy and I were well into writing together, and I realized he had a best friend – a character in Krissy’s head: Drey. Below is the scene when I was mid-scripting and all of a sudden Nell was there, writing a line. Lines.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robes, listening to the sounds of a dozen or so sailors as they pulled in the anchor and set sail.  He felt the moment the wind caught the mainsail, felt life thrumming through his veins. For better or worse, he was off on a new adventure. And Nell, impossibly, was here.
Nell spotted him after the last of the ropes were tied, and walked to stand by the edge with him.  The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but the sky had the soft hue of peach flesh and Drey could hardly tear his eyes from the horizon.
“Drey!  Brother, what brings you to the sea?” he pulled Drey into a quick hug – the hug that, after one memorable arrest during a fishing trip in another realm, they both called the catch-and-release hug.
Drey stared at his friend’s calloused hands and muscular shoulders and neck.  He looked like a guy with a job, instead of like Nell. “I might ask the same of you.  Is that rope? Are you working?”
He looked down at his hands, as though surprised that the callouses were attached to his body.  “Passing some time – wind at my back, sea below.” He put his arm across Drey’s shoulder and motioned expansively toward the horizon, as though the view alone could account for everything.  “Hey you should join up! Drey and Nell; adventurers again!”

Before that moment, when Drey walked onto a boat and Nell came alive, Nell sat there, in the drawing, just waiting for me to discover who he was.

It took a lot of work to get him to speak – to be this guy who is fiercely loyal, in love with concessions foods (popcorn in every flavor, snow cones, pretzels, cotton candy…you name it, he loves it), devoted to monsters (he can communicate with animals), and willing to do anything, even if it’s painful, for the greater good. He’s become one of my favorite characters.

Developing him wasn’t sitting down and filling out a character sheet. It was writing with him whenever it felt right, and discovering his own voice. Writing often isn’t about what you can do today, but what you can build over time. Like most great things, it takes time.

Nell…he’s not great. He’s brilliant, and I hope someday he’s legendary.