Welcome, friend! Today I am chatting with author M. N. about his book, Three Meant to Be. This book is an adult Fantasy novel, first in the Branches of Past and Future series! I love that it is set in a magic academy and I am looking forward to reading it myself. Let’s welcome MN, learn more about the book and enjoy some character art!
Get to know the author: M.N. Bennet
Hi MN! Welcome to Armed with A Book. Tell me and my readers a bit about yourself!
Howdy folks! I’m MN Bennet but you can call me Michael or Bennet. I’m a queer fantasy writer who loves big magical worlds, sweet and sexy romances, and so many puns it’ll annoy even the most enthusiastic goofballs. When I’m not writing, reading, gaming, binge watching something, or catching up on much needed sleep, then I can be found teaching.
I’ve been writing most of my life. I actually got started with a Gargoyles fanfiction boardgame. If you ever had the original VHS Gargoyles movie then you might’ve had their game that came included. Well, when I was seven or six or something—I lost mine in a move. Sad face. But I decided to make my own boardgame (and script of rules) to recreate it. I made a three story construction paper game with cards and characters and so many other little things. It’s what pushed me into eventually writing my own stories with my own characters.
What inspired you to write this book?
I’ve always enjoyed magic academy stories. I’ve even written one or two in the past. The big inspiration behind this came from my love of these worlds where a character is introduced, the setup of magic, learning system in class alongside the main character, and then I thought—what if I taught the magic system and world lore? What if instead of meeting the new kid at X magic academy, we met the teacher?
How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?
Oh. That’s a hard question. Ideas can linger in my head for months to years (and I’m terrible about knowing/recalling when they first emerged). I am usually a fast drafter (or so I’ve been told by a few writer friends) but I don’t track my time. I’ve done that in the past, measured how long it takes me to write a story, how many words I get in a day, the revision process, and I honestly don’t like to do that. I’m easily overwhelmed by everything, so when I start tracking my successes, I sometimes track them as shortcomings. When the mood hits, I’ll track a daily count for a bit but I don’t make it a habit.
And that’s a terrible answer for this question! XD I’m sorry. I do know I drafted it and then shelved it for sixish months until my scheduled time with my editor. Overall, I’d say at least a year (or longer) between idea, draft, revisions, early readers, more revisions, revisions after that, editor, revisions again (seriously?!?!), final revisions—oh wait, one more change, and then finalizing.
What makes your story unique?
The obvious answer is probably that my magic academy story is from the teacher’s POV. And that does make it unique from what most readers are used to. I had a much longer answer about humor and grief but that opened a lot of boxes I’d rather keep closed. There is a lot about Three Meant To Be I love, though. It’s forced me to look at narrative structure in a completely different way. It’s forced me to look at my life and address feelings I’d rather not. It’s a story, a world, I will carry in my heart for a long time to come.
Who would enjoy reading your book?
I think first and foremost, people who enjoy reading grumpy voices—Dorian is a sourpuss but in the best way (though I’m biased). Anyone who likes big, complex magical worlds with intricate systems. I’m a fan of rules in lore so if that’s your jam… 😊 At the core of all my stories is a mystery. There’s always some element for the reader to solve alongside the MC, which is something I always enjoy in things that I read and watch or play (yay to video games!), so readers who like that intrigue of uncovering the truth might like my book.
This is where things get a little chaotic when I try mentioning who the audience is because I think folks who like hot and heavy romantic arcs especially with steamy on page sex scenes would be a fan of Three Meant To Be. But also, push the romance aside because we’re about to hang out with a bunch of angsty teens for work and readers who enjoy dark academia and magic academies might vibe well with this story.
What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?
It’s okay if you’re not okay. Grief, depression, anger—they take as long as they take. I think it’s important not to be consumed by our emotions but as someone still learning that lesson every day, I want readers who see themselves in a few of the characters to walk away satisfied.
Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?
“Who wants to touch my cock?” –Gael Rios-Vega
This will remain my absolute favorite line in the book. Possibly the entire series. The fact that he walks into Mr. Frost’s classroom on day one and pulls out his cock for the other kids to touch. 🤦♂️ Don’t be mortified! He has a rooster as his familiar. So when he’s talking about his cock, nine out of ten times he’s referring to King Clucks. 😏
The fact that I love this scene so much, I decided to include in my excerpt to follow. 😊
This is the first book in the Branches of Past and Future series. Do you already know how many books there will be or is this something that will evolve as you write?
I do know. I’ve known how many books I wanted for this series about halfway through the first book draft. Initially, I wrote Three Meant To Be with the intention of being a standalone with series potential. It’s something I try to do with every book I go into so I can provide closure to the characters, the plots, and the world. However, I have very much fallen in love with all the characters in Dorian’s world and it’s been an absolute delight revisiting their lives as the story progresses.
What is something you have learned on your author journey so far?
Too much to count. Haha. Okay, seriously there is so much I feel like I’m learning every day. I’m a very big research person, so I make a point to learn as much as possible about anything I’m attempting. That said, the author journey carries so many variables and learn-as-you-go components that it’s been a lot to wrap my head around.
Most recently, I learned the importance of not comparing myself or success to others. It’s something I *thought* I already knew but it turns out it’s a lesson I occasionally need a reminder of. 😅
What’s the best piece of advice you have received related to writing?
Write the story you want to read. I know that seems like easy enough advice, but I have to remind myself of that regularly. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own head—self doubts—that it affects me when I’m plotting, drafting, or revising. When those doubts creep in, get so caught up in the what ifs that it prevents me from moving forward with a story. I like to remind myself as long as I love the story, as long as I write the story I want—the way I want—then everything will be fine.
Now, that doesn’t mean I’m not open to revisions. It’s important to be flexible so you can create the best version of the story you want to tell.
If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!
Megan, Mandy, and Jen! They have been my biggest and most supportive friends in the writing community. Each of them has taught me so much along the way. I honestly don’t know if I would still be writing if I hadn’t found them. Maybe. But having a support system has made the ups and downs of this industry so much more bearable. I’m eternally grateful to have them in my life.
I also want to give a huge shout out to my fantastic editor: Charlie Knight. They’ve helped me grow so much as a writer while allowing me to stay true to the story I want to tell.
Three Meant to Be
Adult Fantasy, Published 2023
Telepathic high school teacher Dorian prepares teen witches for professional casting because going in unprepared is what killed one of his partners. But new state mandates on magical proficiency make it nearly impossible, and Dorian worries he can’t give his students the education they really need. Seeking a distraction from work, Dorian kisses his still-living on-again off-again clairvoyant boyfriend, Milo. Instead of a distraction, Dorian glimpses Milo’s vague vision involving the murder of Caleb—one of Dorian’s new students.
Already devastated by the loss of his partner, Dorian refuses to stand aside and let Caleb die. He searches for clues by delving into Caleb’s mind. Rooting through Caleb’s memories alongside teaching classes leads Dorian to two more students: Caleb’s ex-best friend turned rival and the prodigy with connections to dangerous warlocks. However, each step further into his students’ minds forces Dorian to confront his deteriorating relationship with Milo.
After discovering a link involving illegal casting, Dorian resolves to work with Milo to prevent the impending vision. To succeed, Dorian will have to explore the potential of a future with Milo and find closure on their third partner, whose loss looms between them. But meddling with fate to save Caleb inadvertently draws the warlocks near, putting all his students in danger. Dorian will have to risk his life and gamble his second chance with Milo to keep his students alive.
Content notes include foul language, smoking and alcohol use, blood and violence, scenes of graphic sex between adults, character deaths (off page), strong themes of grief and guilt, bullying, mild torture, mental and physical assault, depression, anxiety, and self-hatred (both mild and overwhelming).
Dorian’s Homeroom Coven
These artworks are done by @joleanart (Instagram).
Book Excerpt from
Three Meant to Be
(From Chapter Six)
As seven o’clock rolled around, I finished tweaking my intended lesson for the first day, gulped the last of my coffee, and made my way into the hallway. The bell rang, and the silence ended.
A swarm of children walked in mass. First-year students held out their phones to read their schedules or carried a crinkled piece of paper with the same information. Paper they’d already ruined with grubby hands. I’d forgotten how messy and disorganized first-years were. I’d have to make lessons on self-management and organization because nothing was quite so annoying as scattered fifteen-year-old kids scrambling to keep up with their expectations.
“Good morning.” My first student arrived, giving me a friendly wave, oozing kindness and excitement. “Hope your morning is going great.”
“It’s going,” I said. “Sit where you like.”
“Cool deal.” His spiky bleach-blond hair shook. A hairstyle either meant to match Milo’s, the beloved Enchanter Evergreen, or compliment the literal spikes from his magic. He wore the short-sleeved uniform without the academy jacket, revealing the white bone-like spikes along his forearms, and dress shorts which allowed the spikes on his legs room to breathe.
Quite the unique branch magic. I checked over my notes where I kept names, branch magics, and other comments about those on my roster. It helped me quickly put names to faces, not only for my twelve homeroom students but the hundred-plus kids in my history courses.
Name: Gael Martinez
Branch: Augmentation (Spike) (Spikes)
Of course, the school records were filed incorrectly. He didn’t possess a single spike but a multitude. This type of distinction was important for licensing and something no school, public or private, took seriously enough.
Another boy brushed past him, bumping Gael’s shoulder. He hit a spike and winced. “Move it.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Gael smiled, flashing his pointed sharklike teeth. He ran a finger along his sharpened spikes, glancing at the other boy before lowering his head and averting his gaze from the glare. “Espero no haberlo lastimado.”
Gael was bilingual, so I’d only understand the English surface thoughts if he had any. He might be the type who bounced between the two languages depending on his conversation or someone who thought exclusively in a preferred language.
I didn’t need to understand the words to feel the longing in his mind.
“Whatever.” The other boy stormed into the classroom. “Annoying motherfucking porcupine-looking witch.”
I shuddered. For fuck’s sake. How could someone be that angry this early in the morning? He scowled as he sat in the front row, rubbing his arm.
A few other students in my homeroom walked by the door. Gael scooted out of the way, extending an arm and smiling, letting them know to go ahead of him. He was too polite.
Kids continued shuffling through the hallway, some talking, others searching doors for room numbers or attempting to make sense of the all-too-confusing building map. A few more students walked into the room. A tall blonde girl with hair draped over her shoulder slinked through the doorway, walking directly to the back and sitting in the furthest corner.
“I don’t belong here. I wish they’d have just rejected me.” Sorrow. It ran along my spine, one chilling column at a time. “Theo would’ve… Theo would’ve done well at an academy. But me? What can I do?”
Not all thoughts hit with the sharpest inflections of emotion, but like rage, true depression—the type that lingered within a head every single day—struck my mind harder. It came across like a faint cry smothered by the depths of a well dug deep within the earth.
She was one to keep an eye on. It was only the first day, and her doubt was intense, casting waves across the classroom. Even without telepathy, the signs were clear. Sure, she wore her uniform with elegance, applied perfect makeup, and finely styled her hair. Still, her expression was vacant of emotion, resisting the default frown beneath her somber blue eyes holding back tears. If she faked a smile, her composure might shatter.
A kid whistled to the tune of music playing loudly on his phone as he strutted down the hallway carrying a small cage draped with a cloth. Peterson said something, but the carefree student ignored him. Peterson’s internalized offense was quite entertaining until the kid moved closer to my class. Ugh. My student. Great.
“Good morning, Mr. Teacher.” He had a mischievous grin. The type of smirk that had irritating written all over it.
“Frost.”
“No, it’s not that chilly. Pretty nice out, in fact.” He giggled, rubbing a burr away, waiting for me to elaborate that my last name was, in fact, Frost.
“Uh, huh.” I squinted as he entered.
“Um, do you know where room one forty-eight is?” a girl asked, recoiling inwardly like a shy turtle.
I nodded, trying my best not to exude my usual stern expression, but too tired to smile. It didn’t work. She trembled the entire time I explained where to go, leaving more frightened than when she’d arrived.
“Who wants to touch my cock?”
What? My face contorted in shock, and I turned back to my classroom. The mischievous boy held a rooster above his head, an open cage on the floor. It took him all of fifteen seconds to stir up chaos in the room without someone watching. I sighed, checking my notes.
This must be him.
Name: Gael Rios-Vega
Branch: Bestial (Familiar)
Why couldn’t he have had a cat or something simple? His dark orange and black feathered rooster clucked. A short, stubby bird with plumy feet and a bright red comb atop its head that matched Gael’s black faux hawk. Some light delving into surface thoughts revealed the smaller rooster as a breed from Belgium, Barbu d’Uccle Bantam, and a real fucking mouthful. Familiars traveled far to find their witch, but crossing nations, that was a new one.
“Can I pet him?” Gael Martinez raised a hand.
Gael Rios-Vega pursed his lips. “Normally, I prefer girls touching my cock, but so long as you’re careful with those spiky thingys, sure.”
“Always.” Gael leapt out of his desk to pet the clucking rooster.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. What a headache. “Please put your familiar back in his cage.”
“You want me to put my cock away?” Gael tilted his head, delight in his dark brown eyes. “But I have a waiver that allows me to have my cock out during class. Do you want to see it? My waiver, not my cock.” He held the rooster proudly against his bronze cheeks. “You can already see him.”
I’d read his waiver and the others from my rosters. He was goading me into a game of tug-of-war for the class’s attention. I kept my expression blank, refusing to shift even the slightest. Definitely a class clown, and the literal second he registered his playful antagonizing got a rise, it’d escalate. If I told him to call it a rooster, he’d just ask, “Why can’t I call my familiar a cock? Is there something wrong with that terminology?” The prepped comment, along with a dozen others, danced on his surface thoughts, eager for engagement and an audience.
I stared, not speaking, moving, or blinking, while other students sat silently waiting.
“So scary.” The thought crept to the top of many students’ minds.
It helped, reading their expressions or thoughts to gauge when intimidation would neutralize classroom disruptions versus further fueling them. Antagonizing a kid never worked as a catch-all solution to handling behavioral issues. That said, rightly timed stern-faced judgment could keep chaos from spreading.
Gael’s grin faded, and he lowered the rooster. “I’m just playing. I’ll put him away.”
I turned back to the hallway, shifting my position so the corner of my eye remained fixed on the inside of the class and outer halls in case Gael performed an encore. His rooster clucked furiously as he placed him back in the cage. I sighed. As if my mornings weren’t already rough enough. I clutched my clipboard, keeping my hands steady.
At the end of the hallway, Caleb Huxley rushed past others, smiling and apologizing profusely when he spun around them. His hair was still curly and brown.
“No running in the hallways,” Peterson snapped, half inside his classroom. “I’m not sure how they did things at your last school.”
“Oh. So sorry, sir.” Caleb froze, then nodded apologetically.
“This is a prestigious academy, not some playground.”
Caleb’s jacket was a bit wrinkled and stitched with an older version of the academy logo, meaning he’d received the donated uniforms. Peterson immediately went to work sniffing out the voucher kids. I fought a snarl.
“Of course. Again, I’m very sorry.” Caleb turned, biting his lower lip, and walked down the hall, scanning each room number until he reached mine. “Morning. Is this room one thirty-one?”
My jaw tightened, unable to speak because there were a thousand things I wanted to tell him. Warn him. Ask him. Help him. None of that would solve the void vision, and if Milo’s anti-assistance was any indicator, informing Caleb might make things worse. Or make things happen. Or not happen. My teeth ground harder because who fucking knew?
“So intimidating.”
I released my jaw. “First days can be confusing. This is the room.”
“Phew. Overthinking things. Chill out, Caleb.” Half smiling, he entered the classroom. “Something about him looks familiar. Was he a guild enchanter?”
We were all former guild enchanters. One of the major requirements for teaching at academies came with not only gaining an enchanter license but having some experience in the industry. Still, how’d Caleb recognize me? I had a pretty low profile compared to Milo and… My heart pinched. But that was more than twelve years ago.
I fixated on his mind, knowing nothing would present itself on his death this soon. Hoping, at least. It spun with thoughts on dozens of current and former guild enchanters. A literal encyclopedia of everything he researched his entire life, unfolding as a mountain of data. Talk about dedication to his studies.
Caleb’s face burned bright red, and he let out an internal yelp. “Kenny’s in my homeroom coven? He’s gonna kill me.”
Interested?
Find this book on Goodreads and Amazon.
Thank you for hanging out with us today. Connect with M.N. Bennet on his website, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads and Amazon.
If you are an indie author and would like to do a book excerpt, check out my work with me page for details. Check out other book excerpts here.
Be First to Comment