Background of Writing a Book (Parafogs Update)

madebysabee
Sep 27
5 min read

How is Parafogs doing and when can you expect more? (check my IG account for news)

So I wrote a book during NANOWRIMO 2024 (my own - in august, because that’s usually when I have the time). Currently, I am working on a second draft. However, I felt that Parafogs could use a small push (or maybe I could use a little push). So, of course, instead of working on the second draft, I am going to be writing about the book and its origins. (Procrastination for the win!)

So—

Where to begin. About a year or so before writing it, I was playing with the idea of having some kind of town where funny and magical things could happen. It was quite hard to come up with a name. It started as North Dalton—and after coming up with this, I learned that of course there already is a Dalton.

I didn’t want to have any connection to a real city— I mean, not by name—because the whole book is basically based on the city I live in, and there are a bunch of puns I included. Anyway, about half a year later—after the idea could simmer a little bit—I was lying in bed half dead, extremely tired, and I was just writing down letters and trying different names. I know it’s a very unsexy way of describing a strike of genius, but what can we do? We don’t pick how the Muse finds us…

Open notebook with handwritten brainstorming notes related to fog, featuring lists and sketches on an off-white background. — Coming up with names is the most dreadful experience if you ask me

So I played and played—and then I drew the cliff for the first time. Because all good fantasy cities should have a cliff—it gives the writer opportunities. We can find somebody to throw from there, or there can be mermaids living underneath, or—OR! There can be mystical fog just hanging around the trees, above the cliff. And let’s make the fog magical even visually—like fog in two parallel lines. Parallel fogs. In a parallel universe. In a paracosm!

And that’s how the name Parafogs was created.

Notebook with city sketches and handwritten notes about an urban fantasy theme. Includes sketches of cliffs and fog, and ideas for fonts.

So, the city basically filled itself after the name was decided. There was so much stuff to know! Why is the fog there? Why is it so sticky, and why does it move in two parallel lines? What about the cliff and the mermaids underneath?

Where did they come from?

Notebook page with sketches of various faces, including an alien and a person with glasses. A hand with red nails holds the page. — mermaids should be of all ages

Now—the city on its own—it’s just the city I live in through the eyes of my 5-year-old self. I just walk around, and while some people may think about a task they need to do for school, and some may think about beer, and some may think about trash, I am an adult with 5-year-old pink glasses on my nose thinking: wouldn’t it be great if this café was magical and in there they gave you shots of confidence in your coffee? And in the back of the coffee shop, there would be a unicorn—whose tears would make the coffee work with the magic shots. Because it’s not easy to make coffee work with magic, right? And we don’t want sad unicorns in MY book—so of course it must be tears of laughter. So there must be somebody reading jokes to the unicorn. They pay comedians to come and make him laugh his tears into the coffee. And that’s how Unicafé was born.

A coffee cup with a purple lid labeled "UNICAFÉ" sits on a table with keys, a "FAIRY POWDER" pouch, and a phone. People are in the café background.

And then, I was sitting in my favorite café of all time (which is also a bookstore, because that’s the only proper way to host a café), and I was looking through the giant glass window at the buildings across the street. And there was an antique store, with a perfect window, so high it must be an attic. It was also high enough for ghosts to linger in, and magical enough to keep the store running. So that’s how Ghosts in the Attic came to be. And right next to it, there was an old, old building, but it hadn’t lost all its glory. It was so pretty I would like to visit—and maybe sleep in. And that’s how the hotel came into existence.

Watercolor sketch of three buildings with red, brown roofs against a cloudy sky. Signs read "Will-o-the-Stay" and "Ghosts in the Attic."

There are new fountains in the square, and even though I have appreciation for new cool 3D sculpture art, I wasn’t amazed. So I switched it—for an old well. And underneath the well, there lives an old witch. If you throw a coin and make a wish, she will do her magic to make it come true—if it’s a small wish, of course. For one coin you can’t ask for that much.

And the house where Daisy lives? That’s my grandmother’s house when I was a kid, and I wished for wonderful things to happen there—for all the undergrounds and attics to have secrets. I wanted to find a chest with a bonnet, a patchwork blanket, and a locket, just like Holly Hobbie did in hers. And the grandmother is my grandmother, because she is crazy and lovable and funny and was a big part of my childhood—just as I imagine Daisy’s grandma was part of hers.

Illustrated portrait of an elderly woman with glasses and white hair in a gold frame. Text reads "GRANDMA PEARL." Background is lavender. #parafogs

And then—I was in the closest supermarket to my house, and this lady was behind the counter. She didn’t look just old—she looked incredibly old. Like CENTURIES old. And there was this teen guy walking around with a broom, and I thought—sure, you need to get rid of the sand that these mummies are bringing in, right? And then there were these weird teens standing behind me, talking about somebody bringing the wrong thing to a university exam, and all these dots connected with each other.

The Justincase bar is my favorite bar in the city I live in. It’s sorta kinda speakeasy and it’s kind of magic—you feel like you stepped into another dimension. There are no sirens singing, unfortunately, but I imagine if the place were bigger, they would be there.

The good people in the book are my friends, and the bad people are people who annoyed me from time to time.

I love the place I live in, with all its weird and tiny details, its smells, and its random people. And I decided to make my own version of this city, which will live forever. And I remembered Ray Bradbury and my all-time fave book of his—Zen and the Art of Writing. They all came from my subconscious—they were all buried in there, waiting for their time. I love so many things now, with the passion of a kid—but when I was a kid THAT was love. Or it wasn’t even love—it was pure obsession. And still, these things can spark the moment when I write. And as Bradbury advised, I will step away when my subconscious knows what to write. You shouldn’t stand in its way.

So Parafogs is just the result of my full heart and now (sorta kinda more) capable hands and mind, finally able to express it.

I love cozy fantasy. Even though I grew up with Divergent, Labyrinth, and The Hunger Games—and I appreciate those as a writer—my heart always longed for a cozy adventure. For magic without the terror. For a heart full of pumpkin spice. For a place where Octobers are omnipresent and fallen leaves never leave the heads of the townsfolk.

I didn’t want to read another dystopia. First, we lived through it (or are living in it). I want the escapism of magic—of children’s books, but with a bit of adult spice. I can’t say I made Parafogs. It just uncovered itself through the glasses of my 5-year-old self. I wanted this book to lower your blood pressure and fasten your heartbeat.