Co-writing reality & weaving fate

+ My New York City adventures as a full-time indie author

I struggled with what to title this article for far longer than I care to admit. I struggled with what to write for even longer.

We’re going to talk about magick again. (Obviously.) But talking about magick from an autobiographical perspective has many challenges. That’s because engaging in mystical spiritual practices and fate-weaving involves a great deal of unverified personal gnosis, which refers to the spiritual beliefs and intuition gained from subjective experience that cannot be attributed or corroborated by professional scholarship or established traditions.

In other words, much of what I do and what I perceive is only profoundly meaningful to me.

Another issue I have with describing the specifics of my magickal works and outcomes is that I don’t want to be disrespectful to the allies I work with. Though I have genuine excitement about the things I’ve experienced and a desire to share that with the world, I also cannot ignore the way such behavior might also be ego-soothing or even ego-boosting in a way that isn’t helpful to my path.

So, things will be mostly vague and hypothetical, but hopefully still interesting (and useful) to the magickal-curious!

My magickal practice is intensely multi-layered and interconnected, much like the web of reality itself. I see my fictional works themselves as magick, particularly of the hypersigil variety. A hypersigil, as coined by Grant Morrison, is a long-form creative work that acts as microcosm of real life, in which intentions can be embedded in the fabric of narrative that in turn affect situations and beings in our physical world. I also tend to imbue my stories with wisdom from and homages to particular allies, sometimes directly by name. If you know you know ;)

My stories thus become both a psychological tool to find catharsis and closure from painful or traumatic life experiences, but also a way to co-create my present and future with the fate weavers. I end up being able to re-write the past by reframing my perspective and healing those wounds on incredibly deep subconscious levels, which clears a great deal of psychological blocks. After all, in order to ascend to a better reality, we must first let go of everything that no longer serves us. This is one of the most difficult lessons to absorb, and the hard work of our lives.

There are so many examples I could give from the Eternal Obsession duet, also known as the two-book series that launched my career and made me a full-time author. And many more from my upcoming duet, Everlasting Possession, in which you’ll be able to get an even clearer picture of my (alleged) allies and magickal thinking—made easier by the main female character’s nature as a chaos witch.

But, example time: Scarlett, from Eternal Obsession, has a best friend named Snow. Snow is an extremely wise, loyal, and healing best friend for Scarlett, who grew up emotionally abused by her sister. I myself do not share this exact experience, but I do relate a great deal with other aspects of Scarlett’s story, especially the way she feels about herself and her journey to self-love and self-power. In this way, none of my characters are necessarily “me” (although all of my characters have pieces of me, and pieces of other people I’ve encountered), but still act as deeply subconscious avatars that can profoundly affect my own self-perception and framing of situations. Snow doesn’t merely provide Scarlett with wisdom—she also gives me wisdom. And even more magickal? She gives my readers wisdom too. Nothing brings me to tears as easily as readers reaching out about how my books have impacted them on their own healing journeys. In this way, these hypersigils end up affecting people and the world on a potentially grand scale.

Now, what if someone very Snow-like winds up in my life? Here is where we’re entering the fate-weaving side of things, rather than the purely archetypal and psychological. In this way, not only did I pull energies toward me that resonate with what I’ve written, but I’ve also opened up a space in my heart and awareness to recognize and accept the kind of love & friendship that may have, at one point, felt out of reach.

That’s the magick.

I also pay close attention to the aesthetics of my books, as I find that the closer they are to my internal and magickal aesthetics, the more powerful. Cohesion is everything in magick, and this is entirely personal. The rich imagery in Eternal Obsession of stars, oceans, darkness, luxury, and romance all make sense to who I am as a person and as a witch. The closer I can get to feeling as though my fiction, my life, and my magick are in seamless alignment, the easier it is to steer my magickal ship toward the life that I desire.

My books thus become extremely powerful entities that work on my behalf in the spiritual plane without any additional effort post-publication. My characters also become non-physical allies of their own.

Another layer I utilize in my fate-weaving is writing diary entries from the future. If I’m nervous about a live interview, I will write an entry in the present tense as if I already crushed the interview, that it was incredibly easy, that I’m so proud of myself, etc. I make it as emotionally rich and juicy as possible to truly immerse myself in that frequency and experience.

It is incredibly powerful to find old entries that accurately described experiences before they actually happened. I make it a habit to note these instances and use them to bolster the feeling of power gained from this practice.

Guidance varies, as always, but I myself avoid being too specific as much as possible. That way the fates have ample ways to weave in directions I might not have considered. So if I’m manifesting a new apartment, I won’t write the exact street I want to live on or precisely what it looks like. I’ll write the feelings I have when I’ve found it, when I’m living inside it, and so on. Unless I feel like I need to include specifics, and it makes sense to do so.

It’s the difference between I have a job in the arts that pays well and fulfills me and I work for this specific person in this specific building, and I get the job before January 15th. One of these options has very little wiggle room, and it may have too many obstacles in physical reality to overcome. The other is more open-ended, with many different ways of achieving the intention, and it focuses on the actual fulfillment factor.

On top of these two foundational building blocks, I also go to therapy. Doesn’t sound as magickal, but the truth is, our own minds will hold us back more than anything else. Without us even realizing it, most of the time. Modalities like EMDR are especially useful in dissolving limiting beliefs, healing from past trauma, and setting ourselves up for success. All change begins from within.

I also engage in devotional work with my allies. Shout-out to Aidan Wachter for his life-changing perspective and guidance on animism. My magickal life completely changed after I read Six Ways, and I can’t recommend it enough for anyone witchy. I express gratitude, leave offerings—can be as simple as cool water and a candle flame—engage in prayer, tarot, meditation, and the fun stuff. Also known as ritual and witchery, involving a mix of candle magick, sigil work, petitions, charms, and whatever tools or practices make sense at the time.

All of what I’ve mentioned ends up interacting with each other in powerful ways. It’s a cohesive system that is all my own. All of my practices are consciously tailored to my personal aesthetics, beliefs, desires, and meaning-making. I disregard anything that doesn’t make sense to me—or that simply doesn’t work for me.

I care a lot less about why things work than I do about if they work.

I’m also extremely wary of anyone who claims special knowledge or the one-true-way mentality. Anyone worth listening to, in mysticism or in life, readily admits they’re life-long learners and there are an infinite number of paths to walk.

New York City: The City of… Magick!

Anyone who follows me on social media or reads my author newsletter knows that in the span of just a couple months, I went from flirting with the idea of moving to breaking my lease and diving in headfirst. This is all despite the fact that my self-employed status poses a significant roadblock to finding a permanent apartment.

Shrug. I’m staying in a temporary place for January and February, and I know it’ll all work itself out.

Part of living a magickal life is both recognizing when my old reality has already died, and also following the call of the future when it loudly and clearly beckons me forward.

It’s actually kind of funny how long it took me to realize I belong in NYC. NYC is all over my vision board, spanning years, and it never once dawned on me until now. (Oh, oops, my Pinterest vision board is also crucial to my magickal way of living. See? So many overlapping layers, all working toward the same unified vision internally and externally. And Pinterest makes it easy and fun, too!)

Anyway, yes, New York people, places, and energy are all over that board. Life is funny like that, and I’m actually incredibly grateful that I’m moving at the exact time that I am. I’m three years sober, I have a steady full-time income from my writing, and I’ve done an incredible amount of work on my own healing and personal development. Moving any earlier just wouldn’t have made sense, and it likely would’ve been unsafe for me to do so.

I also wouldn’t have met my wonderful friends here in Cincinnati, who I will miss dearly. (Although, kidnapping isn’t entirely off the table if they continue to refuse my directives to pack up their things and move with me.)

The harsh truth is that my friends are a rarity for Cincinnati. And I want to be clear, when I use terms like rare, I don’t mean better. I’m speaking from an incredibly personal and Maggie-unique perspective here, based on what I as an individual desire from environments and connections. For someone else, Cincinnati is the perfect place to settle and thrive.

That isn’t the case for me, and that’s okay. No path is the better path. What matters is being on the best path for me. And visiting NYC at the end of October cemented all of my intuition on this matter, pushing me to take this great leap of faith with full confidence. The amount of strange serendipities, vision board moments come to life, beautiful connections and invigorating conversations… I honestly couldn’t write it all down if I tried, nor could I adequately explain the interconnectedness of what I experienced with the deeper threads of my life and my own personal Lore™️.

The thing about me is that I love to YAP! And wouldn’t you know it, New Yorkers tend to share this quality. I had so many high-energy conversations, often with complete strangers, who were overwhelmingly friendly, helpful, and generous in a way that just doesn’t compare to anywhere else I’ve ever lived or traveled. One of the wonderful people I met just happened to be a fellow witch who has worked with one of my favorite tarot and magickal authors of all time, whose writing played a huge role in helping me get sober and develop as a person and witch. And that was just one of the countless strange & beautiful weavings I experienced.

It honestly felt like I was living in a dream the entire week. I got to see a show with an LA comedian whose podcast I’d been following religiously for years, who happened to be in the city when I was. I walked around at least nine—possibly more?—different neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Manhattan, meeting amazing souls along the way. Words can’t capture how perfectly aligned I felt, how alive, like every moment had led me to this perfect one that spread out before me in endless, abundant possibility.

And that’s the other thing about New York that fascinates me as magician: When we’re talking about fate-weaving, we’re seeing the fabric of reality as something we are co-creating with the universe, God, our allies, or however each of us conceptualizes the divine. But fate-weaving is bound by physical laws and the inherent limitations of our world and the beings that inhabit it. I can’t fate-weave my way into defying gravity or becoming a European monarch. (Probably—I haven’t tried.)

What better place to practice magick than NYC? The amount of high-energy people, places, and events in a condensed space make it this sort of unique cosmic hub. I could be a different person on Tuesday than I was on Monday, focusing on entirely different people and activities to my heart’s content. What is more magickal? Than a seemingly endless amount of beings, intents, and fates, all bumping up next to each other and building off of each other?

I can see how this could be an overwhelming and frightening place to be if one is unfocused and untethered. But being in a place like NYC, focused and aligned? I can’t imagine a better city to weave fates. To try something new, to make mistakes, to fall in love with this world and its inhabitants. Don’t like today? Don’t worry, tomorrow can be unrecognizably different, should you so choose.

I had two options when I sat down at a table in an adorable cafe with my iced latte. Go interrupt the lively witchy discussion happening at the bar and ask if I could join in. Or stay at my table and wait for my date to arrive, keeping to myself and staying comfortable.

That was the day I met a couple fellow witches and very kind humans, and we shared one of the most special conversations and serendipitous moments of my trip.

Our brains would rather cling to a certain hell than reach for an uncertain heaven. Magick requires action. It requires death and rebirth, over and over again.

I described to someone the hell of dating in Ohio, listing out the type of person I was looking for.

They laughed at me.

“Bad news: That doesn’t exist in Ohio. Good news: You’ve come to the right place.”

I’ve met so many wonderful people in Ohio and Kentucky, my birthplace. But most people around me are not my people, in that soul-deep, nourishing sense. In New York, I’m merely one of many. And that can be a strange, scary sort of ego-death in many ways. It can feel nice to be stand out and be special in an ill-suited environment.

But you know what’s better than feeling special and different?

Feeling seen and understood. That’s what we all desire, ultimately, at our very cores. And it’s the hard work of our lives realizing what we truly need in order to achieve that.

And, sometimes, where to look.

My life in Cincinnati had stopped making sense to me. It felt distinctly like something had run its course, and I was ignoring my own soul by outstaying my welcome. I knew exactly what I wanted—in friends, romance, my career, my art, my tastes—and I was willing to put in the work to have it. But my vision board and my books and my dreams and my spells had all been communicating something crucial, for a while now.

I was looking in the wrong place.

Nothing hurts us more than trying to force cities (and people) to be something more than they were ever capable of being.

It is an ultimate act of love to let things go that aren’t meant for us in order to make room for what is. <3

Okay, this article is already longgg. I might have to do a Part 2 about my New York adventures, apartment hunting, and finally becoming a full-time author after years of grinding away.

Leave me comments and questions, pretty please! Especially if you want to hear more about anything in particular.

For anyone curious about hypersigils in action, I will leave you with an edited-down excerpt from the beginning of Stalked by Seduction and Shadows, written July 2023, when I was completely satisfied with Cincinnati, and New York was the furthest place from my mind.

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Everything had changed in the blink of an eye. I hadn’t slept a wink. As both emotional and physical exhaustion mixed with the steady pump of adrenaline, I couldn’t deny there was a part of me that wanted to collapse. Drop down to the earth and go into that empty place and sleep until my life was as unreal as a hazy dream.

But there was this bigger, more expansive feeling inside of me that rang loud in my ears. It was a hum that went on forever, waves that spread in all directions, the powerful crest of the gods’ creation. This force I’d felt my whole life, like hope but stronger, propelled me forward.

I thought it might’ve been fate.

Eternal, terrifying, and beautifully certain, and I was a shooting star on a collision course, heading straight into its grasp.

…

Money was going to be tight in the city. Everything was much more expensive, and I didn’t know anyone there. I’d have to find work immediately and use my savings to rent out the cheapest place I could find. Let alone feed myself. Jaxon would’ve been able to hunt, and our money would’ve stretched far wider in the rest of Valentin. People would’ve been friendlier too, especially other wolf shifters connected with Jaxon’s pack.

I knew that rural folk were prone to exaggerating the evil of Aristelle, but their disdain and warnings couldn’t have been completely unsubstantiated. Aristelle was just as dangerous as it was intoxicating, just as deadly as it was beautiful, just as cold as it was inviting.

“What’s it really like?” I asked Adair suddenly, as he continued to prepare Sheela for flight. “The city.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, as if drawing up the perfect words to describe the fabled landscape of the city.

“Big,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes, and when he caught sight of my glare, he chuckled.

“What, princess? It’s fucking big,” he said. “You’ll be able to handle it, though. Maybe the only one of these villagers that could.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged without turning to face me, still packing the saddlebags with our belongings. “You have that air about you. Big city air. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the skyline from above, all lit up and sparkling.”

…

I forced myself to look down despite the nausea it induced, the expanse of Crescent Haven suddenly shockingly small. My entire life, everything and everyone I’d ever known, just a small patch of land in the middle of a vast forest.

In a matter of minutes, the sleepy little village was completely behind us as we soared.

My terror peaked as we finally reached our highest altitude, and Sheela’s wings stretched out as we gently coasted, no longer climbing. Then the fear began to loosen, allowing the other, equally powerful emotion to peek through the haze.

Delirious, intoxicating excitement. I was flying.

All my lonely nights spent staring up at the sky came rushing forward, and it felt like fate had finally scooped me up from the ground and given me my long-coveted wings.

For a moment, I forgot what had brought me here, weaving through the clouds. The pain, the loss, and the disappointment. Even Sheela and Adair faded away, and it was just me and the rushing wind. Me and the infinite sky. Me and the unknowable stars. I was blooming, burning, bursting—a streak of celestial splendor against the deep, dark night.

It was as though I’d cheated my own nature reaching this high, defiantly soaring above the earth, one wrong move away from the most gruesome death and grinning, anyway.

The sun fell early, beholden to autumn’s call for darkness and introspection. I was bathed in the sunset’s brilliance, clinging to its pink, purple, and orange hues for warmth as I shivered under my many layers.

And when Aristelle finally came into view, sparkling against the night just as Adair had promised, I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

It was as though I’d fallen under a spell, caught in a beam of undeniable magnetism that gripped my body and pulled. Sheela must’ve felt the pull too, because soon she was dipping forward, beginning her descent.

It was as though I’d entered the cosmos, caught between a field of celestial bodies above and the twinkling expanse of stars below.

Not stars—lights—of houses and temples, shops and taverns, streetlamps, and magick. I had no words for the city that manifested before us. The domed buildings made of onyx and quartz; the winding cobblestone streets; the towers that crept into the sky; the breathtaking sculptures of the gods that looked too enormous to have been built by hand; the simple but beautiful architecture of the rows of bright, stone homes and buildings that twisted up and down steep hills.

It didn’t look like a city that belonged to mortals or vampires. We were unworthy. This was a city for gods.

And yet, we dove lower, and the city grew impossibly big the closer we got to the ground. We hurdled right for this place that had already stolen my heart, despite everything I knew, every word of warning and hateful rant. It didn’t matter that Aristelle was the city of vampires, or that slave traders had taken my sister here, or that this was the only place in Valentin that Jaxon and I had never planned to venture.

I was caught in this beautiful and deadly city’s trap. I was Aristelle’s stunned and captivated prey, a willing sacrifice on her altar of sublimity.

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