What's better than a wardrobe that leads you to Narnia?

Something that leads you into the world of the Môrdreigiau Chronicles

(Except I had to go film and edit the video. So um, yeah, not even close.)

Answer: Something that leads you into the world of the Môrdreigiau Chronicles.

I know I have a few readers out there who are captivated by the old and crumbling. Thus I can’t be the only person who finds this magical…

Before I get to it, let me start at the beginning, and you will soon see why this is quite possibly the closest thing I’ve ever seen to magic.

Right now this publication is very much me talking to you about my process, some behind the scenes, and so on. When I am ready to start sharing the novel with you (looking good for January 2024), I will be stepping back behind the proscenium arch (ooh, look at that one semester of Drama working for me!) and taking on the persona of a person who loves vintage and antique things.

Which is not that far from the truth, but I’m not really an avid collector of such except for tablecloths and Cherry Ames books.

As this fictional persona, I will share my finding of this battered old thing, which holds old books (and tablecloths! yay!). Thus we will find the journal of our heroine, which I then share with you in chapter instalments once a week, and the occasional video.

Still with me? Good.

Now, how to find the beat-up container?

What will the journal be found in? Should it be smaller or bigger than a breadbox? Would an old suitcase be a sufficient size or should I go for something even larger?

I needed to keep in mind that this container would also need to hold books two and three (because yes, they are all going to take physical form) as well as that book four, which is barely a gleam in my eye.

I needed room to move. I made some “guesstimate” measurements from the pieces I’m collecting to make books two and three to see how much depth I would need. I started to look through Facebook Marketplace for possible local options, but I had several constraints:

(1) my husband got sick and he was not up for driving me hither and yon

(2) we traveled. (Which was awesome, by the way. I highly recommend the Ghan through the middle of Australia. A few magical moments there!)

The third constraint was knowing that in the search for perfect vintage pieces to fit our new-to-us 100-year-old home, we had driven some pretty rickety back country roads and navigated some pretty gnarly city intersections. So there were limits to where my husband would be willing to drive me in order to secure my prize.

This week, I narrowed it down to two pieces and requested measurements from both sellers.

One was an old rusty metal trunk, sort of squarish, perfect for finding under the house, or in the attic. It would easily fit half a dozen books.

(image used with permission from Carolyn Farley)

The second was rectangular and the black top looked water damaged. But it had rusty hinges and locks and was a bit bigger than the metal trunk. It could make a nice, if low, coffee table.

I decide to go with the second one as the first would involve the spouse negotiating hairy intersections.

As I fall asleep the night before the pick up, I realised that I haven’t seen any pictures of the inside of the trunk … and there have been pictures of other trunks and suitcase on Facebook Marketplace where they’ve revealed water stains and active puffs of grey mould. (Ew.)

I didn’t want to do any rehab on a piece and started psyching myself up to “not be nice” and refuse to buy the piece because it might not be exactly what I wanted. (All, this was really hard for me. I’m one of those people who smile at the hairdresser and praise their work even though they just straightened the F%^#% out of my naturally curly hair.)

As subscribers who read the Chat portion of my Substack already know, it was exactly what I wanted.

The split top of the trunk does not appear to be due to water damage. There is some slight water damage to the bottom of the box (that honestly I didn’t notice when I bought it). I’ll put an open box of baking soda in it so soak up the musty smell before I put my precious books and tablecloths in there.

The previous owner thought the black covering might be pigskin but it might just as easily be some sort of rubber. Whatever it is, there are lots of nailheads holding the two materials together.

Ok, enough talking, let’s go do the video tour.

Isn’t that the most magical thing you’ve seen? Imagine the possibilities: not just for set dressing or props (which is what I am using it for), but it’s also extra storage and can function as a coffee table.

And it has character (as the real estate agents say) … but there’s nothing wrong with it besides the fact the lock is long gone.

What would you do if you found a piece like this? Are you attracted or repelled? Do you agree it’s pretty magical? Let me know in the comments or by replying to this email.