Hi! Today we’re going to break down the spell that I cast for my book’s cover. *rubs hands together*
But first, a word from our sponsor…aka me. 
The Fool & the Threads of Time is available on Kickstarter along with some sparkly, magical bonuses: The Traveler’s Guide to the Tarot, which is full of practices you can do IRL to connect with the major arcana, and the Moon Cat bookmark, which I designed myself and am so darn pleased with.
I also sculpted miniature foods based on desserts described in the book. Truly, it’s a happy little party over on Kickstarter!
And now…back to the spellcasting.
Looking at my journal entry from December 15, 2024, I noted that it was the Full Moon in Gemini, which felt like an auspicious time to cast a spell for a book cover, given that the ruler of Gemini is Mercury/Hermes, a deity who loves writing, communication, and commerce.
I began by cleansing my altar, taking everything off, including the silk altar cloth, which I shook outdoors. I anointed the altar with a special oil before replacing the cloth, and all of my magical tools got a good dusting and my athame (ritual blade) polished.
To be clear, I don’t cleanse my altar every time I cast a spell, but I was somewhat horrified by how dusty it was. 
“Shabby and neglected” definitely wasn’t the desired vibe for my brand new book!
When rearranging my tools, I did a little something different, based on intuitive guidance from Apollo. There are a few moving parts, so let’s take a look…
To start, I created a crystal grid, tied to my spell’s intention of having the perfect cover for my book. At the center of the grid is a piece of howlite that, many years ago during my Temple of Witchcraft training, I consecrated with the energy of Mercury/Hermes/Wednesday. (I consecrated a crystal for each day of the week, and I use these stones a LOT in my grids and spells.)
Behind the grid I placed a photo of the love interest from my book, Prince Mathias (Matt in the present lifetime). In addition to being exceedingly easy on the eyes, his image aligns the energy coursing through my altar with the spirit of my book.
Let’s take a gander at the energy flow…
First, energy comes in through the “gate” between Hecate and Apollo (1). It’s mediated by these deities and guarded by a black candle, ensuring that only the energies correct and good for this spell are allowed to enter. (This was established via a ritual in which I called upon Hecate and Apollo, asking for their guidance and aid.)
The energy then passes through a selenium tower propping up Mathias’ photo (2) and enters the grid, where it moves in a clockwise fashion (3), building in power.
This power is stored like a battery in a chunk of green serpentine (4), which Apollo and Hecate established as an anchor for my book cover—in other words, a translation point between immaterial energy and my book cover existing in the material world.
The actual casting of the spell took place after the altar was set up. I raised energy infused with my spell’s intention, and directed it into the crystal grid to activate the spiraling motion that draws energy in through the gates, powering the whole magical apparatus.
Whenever I cast a spell…
…I do a tarot reading immediately after, while I’m still in my ritual circle, asking for guidance on how best to support the spell. In this case, the advice was to keep things super simple, focusing on the must-do tasks and being mindful not to muddy the waters with busy work.
I was also given the heads up that more of my protective fantasies would need to be surrendered to the alchemical fires of growth, and that has certainly come to pass since the casting of the spell, lemme tell you! 
When I have the urge to fantasize to dull the discomfort of reality, I’ve been asking myself if there’s something I need to feel or acknowledge, and so far, every single time, it’s been some variation on the fear, What if I fail?
What if nobody buys the book?
What if they buy it, but it ends up as a door-stopper?
What if they read it and hate it?
What if I become the laughingstock of the internet? (Yep, the entire internet. Hey, I didn’t say the fears made any sense!)
Or perhaps worse…what if no one pays attention to the book at all?
I’ve gotten loads of practice taking care of myself when these fears arise, and you know what? The voice of fear is often much quieter now. I think it just needed some love. (Okay, a lot of love.)
How did the spell go? Did it work?
If you had asked me this a few weeks ago, I would have answered with a resounding and rather panicked NO! I didn’t have a cover, and it was starting to look like I wasn’t going to have one in time. 
Two weeks before launch, the cover designer and I amicably agreed to part ways, and I will say, if I were looking for an illustrated cover, this designer would have been perfect. They have oodles of talent and skill, but in my creative brief, I’d sent samples of a very specific look I was after, and unfortunately, they weren’t able to do that.
After the project cancellation, here’s what I did for an hour and seven minutes: I sat on my couch, staring at the wall like a gorked-out zombie. I shuffled upstairs and crumpled into a crying heap. I tried three times, unsuccessfully, to explain to my very patient husband what I was feeling and what I needed. The fourth try was a success, and we hugged it out, amidst much crying and nose blowing on my part.
And then, I wandered downstairs, still in a bit of a daze, but with the growing determination that I was going to try to design my own cover. I also ate an orange, and I feel like that helped a lot. Sometimes it’s the little things… 
(And yes, I did consider hiring someone else, but prior to choosing the designer I went with, I’d looked at so many options and either couldn’t afford them, they were booked out 6-12 months in advance, or their style wasn’t what I needed. I also looked at oodles of pre-made covers, none of which felt aligned with my book.)
That Sunday evening, I set my intention to go into this with an open mind. I journaled all my hopes and fears, which helped me go to bed feeling more calm and grounded.
Monday morning.
I sat at my computer. If I cracked my knuckles, I totally would have done so. And then…I subscribed to a month-long Photoshop plan and got to work.
Pressing the magic fast-forward button to Tuesday at 4 pm—please visualize a training movie montage with peppy, determined music—I found myself staring at a cover. A cover that I actually liked. A lot.
Also, the process was fun? Like, really fun? 
I never, ever would have chosen this path if things had worked out with the designer. I would have assumed I couldn’t do it and would have acted accordingly by not doing it.
I have goosebumps as I type this, but I feel, very strongly, that this spell worked out precisely as it needed to. Like my guides prompting me to write a romance, the mysterious workings of the spell resulted in an unexpectedly grand ol’ time designing my own cover. In two days, I went from a Photoshop newborn to a very enthusiastic toddler.
What’s so freakin’ cool is that I now feel more confident to do all sorts of things that, before, I would’ve had to wait until I could afford a designer, like creating this Moon Cat bookmark!
Another case in point: the companion tarot deck I’m eager to create, featuring characters from the book, like She Who Weaves (and her sister, She Who Unravels). Ooh! And the Queen of the Hidden Company in place of the Empress—the list goes on. The deck and companion booklet will be a rich repository of series lore and a badass container for magical energy, because you better believe I’ll be sigilizing the entire deck. 
As recently as last month, I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to commission 78 pieces of art, but now I’m geeking out that I can do it myself!
In fact, I’ve already had a practice round with the Fool card, which is the basis of the book cover. Ev, the main character, is the divine Fool, embarking on a quest with her trusty animal companion—in this case, Jungie, a very special cat you’ll meet in the book.
I could go on (and on), but I’ll close with one of the things I love most about magic.
When I cast a spell, I notice an opening, a lightening of the load that comes with acknowledging (and requesting) support from sources known and unknown.
When I cast a spell, I no longer feel like I’m going it alone. (And I never really am, but magic reminds me of this truth.)
In this headspace, I’m more apt to look for support, more liable to spot synchronicities, more likely to stay open to opportunities.
During my hour and seven minutes of crying, in addition to my cuddly husband, what helped me find my center was the whispering yet persistent belief that the spell would work, somehow, some way.
And in this tentatively hopeful frame of mind, it suddenly seemed a little less preposterous that I might be able to create the cover myself.
Sometimes, just a smidgeon of hope is enough to take action.
I don’t think there’s a way to know, not 100%, whether magic works primarily in the psyche, inspiring a different outlook and behavior, or if it works primarily in the outer world.
But you know what? I don’t think it matters.
If it works, it works. 
