How it all Began
The extraordinary life of Romulus Donkwad was twenty years in the making. It all began with a dream that detailed the secret life of my tuxedo cat, Smidgen. Every morning, Smidgen left the apartment through the cat door and returned each evening shortly after we got home. Not having any idea where he went, we assumed he must have had a job, a nine-to-five with weekends off. This went on for years, then one night I had a dream that Smidgen was an investment banker. He had a little laptop that he kept hidden in the raspberry canes. Each day, he would crawl into the raspberry canes, where he had a secret office. He would trade stocks and bonds until it was quitting time and then return home. He was very good at his job, and he became a wealthy cat. We had a lot of laughs over this. Smidgen just didn’t seem the type to be a banker; he was quirky and a bit goofy, which made it all the funnier. This is how Smidgen became the Chief Financial Officer for the Cerulean Order of Felines. He filled their coffers with lots of money, and he then moved on to scientific research.
Many years later, after Smidgen passed away, we adopted a pair of tuxedo cats and named them Romulus and Remus. After we brought them home, we kept them confined to a room for a few days so our other cat, Sassy Lu (Princess Lu Lu), had time to get accustomed to them. That didn’t go well at all; she hated them and made this abundantly clear. She would walk up to the closed door and hiss. It was years before they reached a resolution. For reasons that aren’t entirely clear, I started writing a story. I never intended it to become a novel; it just seemed to happen. Coming up with characters, ideas, and story lines was the easy part; making it into a novel proved to be difficult. That’s the part that took so long. Somewhere after the first year or so, there was a several-year hiatus; except for this, the rest of the time was spent working on it, writing and rewriting. During this time, the first draft for book two was finished.
I probably would have given up if it hadn’t been for an interesting experience I had with an astrologer. Years before I started the novel, I had consulted an astrologer for a natal chart reading. We briefly met so I could give him my birth information. I purposely didn’t tell him anything about myself. When the chart was ready, I went back for the reading. He had misplaced my chart and asked me for my birth date again, and this is when he said, “Oh, you’re the artist.” I was flabbergasted and replied, “I never mentioned this,” and he said, “You didn’t need to; the chart told me.” I was impressed. Later, he says, “You’re a writer.” I quickly replied, “No, you got that wrong.” He kept insisting he was right, and each time, I would reply by saying, “I don’t think so.” There was no point arguing with him because he was adamant that the chart tells it all.
This memory inspired me to carry out the enormous task of writing a novel. The recollection of him saying I was a writer, even though I wasn’t totally convinced of this, encouraged me to stick with it. With the support of my friends and family, I eventually finished.
Happy reading,
Some of the Secret agent cats in the North Periwinkle of The Cerulean Order of Felines:
Secret Agent Romulus waiting for
a message to be delivered.
Secret agents Romulus and Remus on
guard duty.
Secret agent Albert, teacher’s assistant for the
Cerulean Order of Felines spy school.
Ellie Mae, secret agent in training.
Email us pictures of your secret agent cat to: theresa@theresamaclean.com
