Grace A. Johnson's Blog: Of Blades & Thorns, page 41

The Vanishing (Reign: Part 3)

Reign

Part Three: The Vanishing

You’re a prince, Brehnan, and—more importantly—you’re a Guardian. You cannot panic; you must think. Reason. Research. React.

I repeated the mantra every Guardian was taught—to analyze the situation, learn more about it, and then, only then, do something—but it was useless. My heart slammed against my ribs with enough force to knock me down, whilst the overwhelming urgency to do something now, before all the thought and effort could be put into a plan, blurred my vision.

Where was Ambrosia?

There were a million different questions that sought precedence in my mind—all related to what I’d heard outside the study. More than anything, I had wanted to throw open the door and demand to know what was afoot. I had the right to, after all. Not only was I one of the two remaining royals, I was also Ambrosia’s Guardian, and any decision or discussion concerning her had to be put to me first.

But when the Regent’s words had struck my ears, I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Even the violent urge to strangle the man had itself been suffocated by complete and utter terror.

He knew. He had to know. Why else would he now come up with some threadbare excuse to overthrow the royal family? Why would he dare betray the memory of King Galen, his best friend? Why would he seek to murder a child?

There was only one explanation, and what bothered me most was not that the Regent knew—it was that he was right.

Ambrosia couldn’t rule. She should, but she couldn’t. The Regent was honestly better suited.

Now that stung.

I charged through the sun-streaked corridor, sharply rounded the corner and nearly knocked a maid off balance, then bounded down the stairs. My breathing was as jagged and labored as if I had spent the day in battle. In truth, my experience outside the study was as close to battle as ever I had been.

And that was only the beginning.

Ambrosia had finished her supper, only picking at her food as she had the last several months since the king’s death, and retreated to her room, where the dim lighting and cavernous hollows allowed her to sulk like a depressed old hermit.

Likely only Pascal would be with her, ever the faithful friend he was. He was also quiet, which no doubt pleased Ambrosia more than the fox’s playful smile or steadfast companionship.

I would find her there. But what to tell her? What story to give the servants? How were we to escape? Worse yet, if we were to encounter the Regent…

So this was why one was to reason, research, and then react.

But I had time for nothing but action, so I’d better not screw this up.

I slunk past the servants darting to and fro, carting towels and fresh coal and brooms, averting my eyes as I weaved through them. They had been trained to ignore me, avoid me. I was as a shadow, hiding in the background, the watchful protector few knew was truly there. It suited me. Like Ambrosia, I’d retreated to darkness and loneliness as a child—with good reason. The life of a prince was anything but enjoyable, let alone the life of a child queen.

Particularly one that was hanging in the balance.

My status as Ambrosia’s Guardian came with many advantages—and disadvantages, as well, but I’d long ago ceased to think upon those—and one of them was being granted unquestioned access to the queen at any given time.

However, I couldn’t use that as leverage. Once the queen was noted missing, I would be the first suspect. Therefore, I had to divert attention from myself and Ambrosia.

We needed to simply vanish.

When you put it in those terms, it didn’t sound quite as difficult.

I reached Ambrosia’s chamber, eased the door open as soundlessly as I could—both for my benefit and hers. Since Galen’s death, her sensitive nature had heightened, and any little sound or movement set her off. My steps were even and measured, but my muscles strained to hold myself in check. I wanted to run to her…

She was perched on the window sill, thick, floor-length drapes shuttering her from the world. Her head was tipped back, supported by the wall, smooth waves of hair cascading down her shoulders. To an outsider, she was the portrait of tranquility and innocence, from the delicate bone structure passed down from her mother to the graceful curve of her little body. She was perfect in every way, as well-bred a child as could ever be reared, a beautiful girl destined to become as gorgeous as her mother.

But what no one saw, what no one acknowledged, what none but I knew to look for resided in her eyes.

Anguish.

A haunting darkness that consumed like a flame, though it was cold, hollow, lifeless.

She flicked those eyes up to me, widened them in an act of surprise. “I thought you were busy, Brehn.”

Only seven, but she commanded me like the queen she was. Or should be. “I was.”

“A meeting?” She threw her legs over the side of the sill, touched her feet to the ground.

“Aye.”

“You sound disappointed.” She crossed her arms, cocked her head...but the crease of her brows and the tilt of her mouth she couldn’t control, couldn’t temper. Some emotions escaped the careful training she’d put them through. For which I was glad. I would not have this child corrupted by her position—or worse, by the Regent.

“I am.” I sighed, struggling against the urge to scoop her up in my arms, to tell her everything, to dash out of the donjon and onto the streets without care for who caught us.

But I couldn’t. Dash out into the streets, I mean. Because when she leapt into my arms and squeezed my neck, I held her close and whispered to her, “We have to leave.”

She didn’t question me. She knew better than that, for although she might hold the title of queen, I held power over her no one—not even the Regent—could take away.

Besides, I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind taking a little trip.

Missed Part 2? Read it here!

#theriver #reign #serial #fantasy #theguardiansofmagni

Review: Blackberry Beach by Irene Hannon

*Warnings*

#1 This is a long review, so pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn. You’ll be here awhile. #2 When I read a review, I want substantial information. So I will not skimp on the details. Which may mean some spoilers, so watch out. #3—additional warning reserved only for this review—Here we go...again...I’m trying out yet another method. Let me know what you think: unconstrained stream-of-consciousness; numbered pros and cons; detailed review minus any fangirling whatsoever (I think I wrote, like, one of those before); or whatever this turns out to be. The feedback is appreciated.

Stars: 3 ½

Synopsis: Katherine Parker has abandoned her career to find solace in Hope Harbor after a tragic accident. Zach Garrett did the same several years ago, and now he’s at home in Hope Harbor as the owner of The Perfect Blend. Will the two neighbors be able to forge a friendship, or will Katherine’s secrets keep them apart?

Favorite Quote: “He didn’t pray for himself, Zach. He prayed for you.”

So, I think it’s become pretty obvious now that I have a love/hate relationship with contemporary fiction.

I avoid it, and yet, at the same time, I crave it. Make sense? Yeah, I don’t get it either. So, because of my strange relationship with contemporary fiction, I am always wary whenever I begin a modern-day story.

It wasn’t any different with Blackberry Beach.

Maybe I’m not the best advisor, since this particular style of contemporary isn’t necessarily my forte (I’m more of a Tammy L. Gray or Julie Lessman girl), but it’s always good to get a second opinion.

Blackberry Beach has great potential, but the escapist theme and slow progression kept it from making a lasting impression. The characters—Kat and Zach—had great character arcs and visible, although extremely slow, development. I liked seeing the definite change and their thought processes as they made huge decisions; however, I do think that took way too long (Kat, for instance, didn’t make her final decision until within the last five chapters), and I was lacking some of the emotional and spiritual struggle I was hoping to see.

Speaking of, though there was mention of prayer, church, God, and the two clergymen in Hope Harbor, I found the spiritual aspects lacking. For one, Kat has apparently been a Christian for some time, but she never made much mention of it or turned to God until it was nearly too late. In the meantime, Zach has given up on a relationship with God, and we barely see him mending fences with his Heavenly Father, which was upsetting. Blackberry Beach is definitely more of an “inspirational” read, but it’s not one to inspire readers to look to God in trials.

Blackberry Beach is the last book in the Hope Harbor series, and I’ve never read the previous books. I would wager that’s why I felt like there was something lacking the setting, as if Hope Harbor had been thoroughly developed and elaborated on in the earlier books and Hannon just skipped over that this time. Regardless, Blackberry Beach could definitely be read as a standalone. Nothing else seemed missing at all.

Unless we’re talking about the vibrancy of the period itself, which did seem lacking. When I read contemporary novel, I expect to read it just like I do a historical novel—I expect to see authenticity and to learn. So, yes, a few name brands thrown in, name drops, pop culture references—all of them make for a realistic and authentic experience that invests me into the story. It may not make the story timeless, but it helps me better envision the story. Blackberry Beach was lacking that vision.

And can I just say that Zach, although a well-developed character (by means which I will elaborate on in a moment), seemed very unguyish? (Which was not a word until now.) Maybe it’s because he’s an Atlantian-turned-Oreganian, but I did find both him and Frank very unrealistic in their voices (both in their monologue and dialogue).

I love it when an author has a strong voice and balanced writing—but at times the author’s voice overrides their characters’. Such happened in Blackberry Beach, where I wasn’t able to differentiate Zach from his aunt or Frank from Kat. I would’ve liked to have seen a more masculine presentation, I guess. One book that pulled that off was Becky Wade’s True to You. Y’all, What’s-His-Name’s POV sounded convincingly male and fit his personality—something for which I commended Wade in my review.

Unfortunately, Hannon doesn’t have that talent, so while the characters all looked good on paper, they didn’t sound good on paper—make sense? Their development and character from others’ POVs was strong and for the most part convincing, but once we entered their minds, I lost all sense of stability and realism.

That made it very difficult to connect with the characters. I had a hard time investing emotion into the story—and maybe that’s the point. Maybe this story was intended to whisk me away from life and empty my head and heart of all trouble. For some people, that may be why they read. But I read not only to escape but also to feel. To create lifelong friends, fangirl and ship my favorite characters, cry for the protagonist, ache for the villain, and even yell “Idiot!” at my Kindle a couple times. That’s how books like A Voice in the Wind, A Passion Redeemed, and Unblemished burrowed their way into my heart.

However, there is yet good to this book.

Despite how uninterested I was in the characters or story, I still kept coming back! Perhaps it was for the hope that it would get better, the desire to know what decision Kat came to (and, earlier on, what her past was), or simply because Irene Hannon does have well-balanced, maybe even captivating, prose.

She did a very good job of capturing the inner thoughts of the characters within the narrative, which left little need for italicized internal monologue. I appreciate that, even if she didn’t capture the male characters very well. The balance between thoughts, description, and action was very well done—however, I would’ve liked a little more emotion and less dialogue.

All that being said, I think Hannon probably makes a better suspense writer than romance. I can definitely see her writing style, developmental skills, and languid pacing giving a suspense novel more depth—but I’ll have to read one to find out!

I felt a thirst to finish the story, and I truly am glad I did. Now I know that this isn’t my preferred genre or contemporary style. I think this book would cater to a lot of readers—particularly the ones who like slow plots, clean reads, and not a lot of emotional investment! I’m just not one of them.

Disclaimer: A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher, publicist, or author, including NetGalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

Irene Hannon, who writes both contemporary romance and romantic suspense, is the author of more than 50 novels. Her books have been honored with three coveted RITA awards from Romance Writers of America (the “Oscar” of romance fiction) and she is a member of that organization's elite Hall of Fame. She has also received a Career Achievement award from RT Book Reviews for her entire body of work. Other awards for individual books include National Readers' Choice, HOLT Medallion, Daphne du Maurier, Retailers Choice, Booksellers' Best, and Reviewers' Choice from RT Book Reviews. She is also a two-time Christy award finalist.

A former corporate communications executive with a Fortune 500 company, Irene now writes full time. To learn more about Irene and her books, visit www.irenehannon.com.

Reflections Tag

Y’all, I am so blessed to have been tagged by my wonderful friend/self-proclaimed twin sister, Issabelle, for this fun and inspiring tag! Thank you so much, Izzy! You can read her post here!

In my “Welcome to 2021!” post, I touched on how God has blessed me and family through such trying times, so if you want to go back and read my earlier reflections, you can do so here!

But, looking back at last year from four months into the new year, I know there has been so much more. (Disclaimer: the post you're about to read may get (1) lengthy, (2) confusing, and (3) extremely weird. You have been warned.)

The rules are simple:

Thank the person who tagged you (check!) Share eight ways God has blessed you or things He has taught you this past year Tag five or more bloggers!

#1 God blessed me with Dad’s new job

When I think of blessings, I immediately think of my dad’s new job. I don’t share a lot of my personal life here, so y’all wouldn’t know that in May of last year, my dad was “furloughed” from CSX railroad. Furloughed is the term they use, since you can be called back, but in my dad’s case, it wasn’t like that he would be.

Long story short, he was laid off along with forty other people that day (which was just that day; CSX has been and is laying off more people constantly), but I have to admit that none of my family were very disappointed. As good as the pay and insurance was, he hated his job. It’s a union, very strict, run by liberals who have no care for the workers or their business, etc. Not to mention they changed shifts like I change underwear (which is very often, I assure you), so we never had the assurance that Dad would be home at night.

An auto mechanic by trade, he really wanted a job closer to home, with regular off-days, and where he could do want he wanted to do. But he never felt a peace about leaving the railroad.

Until the railroad left him, so to speak.

From May until late November, he did odd jobs, helped my papa on the farm, fixed cars, and adjusted to having no health insurance, retirement, or steady income. He had a few job opportunities but we never sure about them, since he could be called back to the railroad (which none of use were too gung-ho about it, but insurance and retirement are serious benefits) or one day find a better job.

He found a better job.

A spot opened up just before Thanksgiving at a local garage, and after a trial week, Dad was officially hired on. It’s family-owned and operated, so Dad is working for a good, trustworthy company (I say company, but they’re really not a company). He works seven to four, is off on the weekends, and is so happy!

Not only has this been a blessing to him, it has been a tremendous blessings to our entire family, and I know that if it weren’t for him being laid off, we never would have taken this opportunity!

All things work together, right?

#2 God blessed me with our new church

Ah, now this is a longer story, but there are SO MANY DETAILS and stories that aren’t mine to tell (or that I really don’t want to tell; you can ask if you’re curious, though), so I’ll get to the point.

We left our church.

I grew up Baptist, attending the same church my mom attended for, like, 30-some years. But we’ve never felt like we belonged, even though we know all the people there, my grandparents go there, and we live in the same community. Mostly, that’s due to us just being different. We’re a homeschool family of nine up against upper-middle-class public school families who all work in the health or education system. They have their cliques, and none of us (not even my mother) felt very included.

Of course, that’s a pretty shallow reason to leave a church, I know, but we weren’t very spiritually fed there either. I mean, technically, my family would be classified Pentecostal. Can you take a Pentecostal to a Baptist church and expect them to sit still?

Nope.

(That was a joke, by the way. Did you get it?)

So, yes, our theology differs. I walked away from every sermon picking things apart. (No offense to Baptists, or the pastor, or people who benefited from those sermons.) There were multiple other components that played into our discontentment and spiritual discomfort.

But we never left.

One of those main reasons was that Dad was never able to attend church with us, since he worked on Sundays for about ten years. We didn’t want to try something new without him, to be honest.

So, between Dad being laid off and the incident I will tell you about if you ask, we decided to leave at the end of September.

And we started going to Southside Church of God, where some family friends and several other lower-middle-class families went.

Suffice it to say that we have been so blessed! The congregants and the pastor and his wife are just the sweetest human beings. Every sermon speaks directly to us. The power of the Holy Spirit is always moving. Y’all, this is the girl who is basically anti-church (I speak against the institution, not the Body of Christ; you can read more here), so when I start talking good about a church, you know it’s gotta be good.

Anyway, my family has so enjoyed and been blessed by our new church, even though Covid has prevented us from attending since just before Christmas. We hope to go back this coming Sunday, though. I’m so excited!

#3 God blessed me with Kingdom Pen

Another sob story. If I sit here and lament my lack of friends since, um, birth, you’ll probably feel more annoyed than sympathetic.

So let me shorten my woes.

#1 Only went to school for 14 weeks, so I’ve never had “school friends.” (I actually had a couple friends, I guess, but you have to understand that once those 14 weeks were over, I almost never saw them again. Kindergartners in 2010 didn’t have text-messaging and Facetime, people.)

#2 Didn’t have many church friends either. To be honest, every friendship I had ended abruptly, so I eschewed establishing any relationships with my peers.

#3 I honestly believed that I was the only teenage Christian writer out there. Scratch that—I believed I was the only Christian teenager out there. I may live in the Middle of Nowhere, Georgia, but that doesn’t mean everybody down here is a God-fearing Bible-thumper, a fact I heartily bemoan. And it ain’t any better up north.

So suffice it to say that my best friend was (and still is) my mom and my only writer friend was my seventy-something-year-old dentist.

Until Kingdom Pen.

I can’t remember the details of how and why I found and joined Kingdom Pen—I know it all started with discovering one of their fantastic blog articles—but I did sometime in late August! (After stalking their forum, of course.) I jumped right into this amazing community of Christ-honoring teen writers, all of whom have not only encouraged me as a person, strengthened me as a writer, and given me a purpose, but have also become my best friends!

Apart from God, my family, my passion for writing, and good food (like doughnuts and ice cream), I can honestly think of no greater blessing that I have been given than the amazing friends I have made within the last nine months! I am literally adding to that list every day as I meet (virtually, of course) new writers, readers, bloggers, and inspiring Christian teens!

(Can I also mention that these fabulous human beings have restored my faith in humanity? Like, not every teenager is horrible. There are actually good young people out there. My old soul still can’t believe it!)

So, thank you, God, for Kingdom Pen and all my writerly friends. And thank you, Issabelle, Joy, Emily, Linyang, Kathleen, Ariel, Lexi, Elizabeth, Daisy, Grace Madeleine, Abigail, Hallie, Katherine, Kristianne, Esther, Anna, Kelly, Hannah, Violet, and anyone else I missed! Insert your name here because you know I love you too! And, yes, if you didn’t know it before, I count y’all among my greatest blessings and friends! (I honestly doubt your name is this long, but if it is, you have plenty of room for it now!)

#4 God blessed me with Julie Lessman

This actually falls in with the above, since Miss Julie has become one of my greatest friends and a super awesome encourager!

When everything shut down—including the library—I was left to my own devices—literally, my own laptop—to find reading material. And Julie Lessman’s books were one of the first! (You can read more about that here and here!)

Long story short (these are all long stories, I’m noticing), I fell in love with her writing and devoured every single one of her books. Not only has she provided me with endless hours of entertainment, I have learned so much from her writing and can actually point out to you the changes in my own!

Even better, we’re buds now! (Yes, people, also known as me, say buds in a context apart from things that go in ears. Do people even say earbuds anymore?)

She has been another great blessing in my life by giving me pointers and answering my emails and putting up with my annoying self just being an all-around awesome friend!

#5 God has taught me about grace

His grace, not me. Although I am His Grace, so…

Back to the point.

My experience with grace has actually been in the third-person. As in, I’m learning through my characters. And Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I read The Cost of Discipleship last year, and boy howdy, was that an amazing book! The revelation, the theology, the “why do people not know this, especially considering how obvious it’s been for the last two thousand years and that Bonhoeffer got and this little teenager girl got it”—yeah, it’s all be so astounding.

Anyway, between that and what I’m learning/teaching myself about grace through my current book, Bound and Determined, I think I’ve come to a greater understanding of what grace is, what it does, what is means, how you use it, when you use it, and how it’s applied.

Keaton said it this way (I’m paraphrasing): “Grace is for tomorrow. Not today. Not yesterday. It’s the second chance you have yet to take.”

Or, as my sage priest put it: “Grace is not a piece of driftwood, supporting you as you float away. It is a raft, a rescue. It lifts you from the waves of despair and deposits you on dry ground, where you can begin living for Christ. Mercy cleans your slate. Grace gives you a new one. You can’t accept it until your heart is ready.”

I have a lot more to say about that, but that's for a whole other post. I touched on it some here.

#6 God has taught me about true patriotism

Prior to COVID-19 (and this blog), I wasn’t very concerned with my country. (Keywords: prior to this blog. This is a side of me y’all have not seen yet…)

In fact, I had very little regard for America. Not because of anything she did, per se, but because of (1) what the “Americans” are doing now, (2) what American was founded on (the shedding of innocent blood), and (3) how the truth about America has been distorted for hundreds of years. (That’s a story for another day.)

Plus most of my ancestors didn’t arrive in America until after the Revolution, and the few who did live here at the time were either Jewish or Spanish, and I come from a long line of Rebels and poor white trash. (Which can also be defined as meaning “no, not all Southern white folk owned slaves. The greater portion of them were worse off than slaves, in fact.” But we’re not getting into that either. #controversialsubject)

Point is, I was more annoyed by present-day America than anything and therefore confined my mind to the Caribbean and medieval England and places that were equally as corrupt but in which I don’t live.

Anyway (gee, I keep getting off-topic), when the pandemic hit, my entire family started praying and seeking the Lord for the country. And I started doing more research and cultivating a deep appreciation not for what America is or what she was, but what she can be.

Then I wrote “An Appeal to Heaven.”

Then the election came around, and I started getting really patriotic. Like, in my spirit. You couldn’t tell by looking at me or anything. I didn’t go to any marches or do social media posts or anything. It’s all mental, honey.

I’m still super patriotic. I still care for America and the true Americans. Yes, my views are way off the wall, but I do know that God has His heart set on becoming the One True God of America, and I’m going to do whatever He asks of me to make that happen.

So what exactly has He taught me about patriotism?

He’s taught me that no country is perfect. But that’s not because of the name of the country, the ruler of the country, the type of government within the country, or even the main religion of the country.

It’s all because of the people.

And if I can be just one person living for God, then I am doing my nation a service. I’m making it better by being better. I’m not serving America. I’m serving God. And in serving Him, I’m aligning myself to His will, seeking His face, and bringing His Kingdom to earth. And His will is to restore America to the image He first created for it.

So there you go.

I’m a patriot now.

But I’m a child of God and a follower of Christ before I am ever an American.

#7 God has taught me about His Spirit and power

Now, if I got into this one, y’all’d probably stop reading. (And, yes, I just typed “y’all’d.” I’m a Southerner; it’s permissible.) Why? Because I could go on...and on...and on...and not make sense while doing so.

So let’s keep this short, straightforward, and to-the-point.

Between attending a Pentecostal church and becoming involved the prophetic, I’m learning more every day about Holy Spirit, Heaven, spiritual warfare, and ruling and reigning with Christ. I mean, I knew some. I’ve known a great deal for years, actually. Probably more than most young Christians dare to believe—definitely more than the Baptists do.

(That was another joke. Get it? Yeah...prolly not. I’m bad with denomination jokes. No offense to any Baptists out there...y’all are great people, but denominations are just like nations. Hence the -nation, eh?)

But, yeah. I can’t say I’ve had any experiences—apart from the time God audibly spoke to me—but I’m growing more and more in what I believe.

Yes, God is real. Yes, the Holy Spirit is real. Yes, speaking in tongues is real. (No, not everyone does it; it’s a gift, and no one can force that on you. Again, off-topic.) Yes, demons are real. Yes, witchcraft is real. Yes, ghosts are real. Yes, miracles are real. Yes, we as heirs of God have power over all the power of the enemy! (I think that’s in James, by the way. I’ll have to check.)

We have the power to cast out demons, command sickness out of bodies, prophesy into a person’s life or into the future, control the weather, raise the dead, and so much more! Jesus said that we would do even greater things than He did! Why, Peter’s shadow itself healed people!

You may not believe in those things, and I’m not going to judge you for that, but I do believe all the world—even the church—is about to see the almighty power of God and His Spirit!

#8 God has taught about having faith in my calling

I guess I’m what you would call “triple called.” As a woman, my commission is to be a godly wife and mother some day—but I’m also called to write. Marriage and motherhood is my purpose as a living being (woman was created to be a helpmate and mother, whether you like it or not), but my personal ministry is writing. I didn’t realize that until I was about twelve-years-old, when I quit taking dance and started exclusively pursuing writing.

And in the summer of 2019, I received the calling to become a missionary. I don’t know how, when, where, or even why—I’m leaving those details up to God and His plan—but I know that someday, somehow, I’ll be an overseas missionary.

In today’s day and age—worse, in my circle of friends and family—my threefold commission is looked down upon.

Marriage isn’t taken seriously or considered the divine, holy union and ultimate blessing from God. Children (especially more than three; I want at least eight) are viewed as burdens. Marriage and children minus a full-time career or college education is even worse.

Ha, even a career as a writer is somehow subpar to being a doctor or lawyer.

And being a missionary? Well...that’s just different. Everyone, regardless of their religious views or status in life, sees missions differently. Some see the Great Commission as an elective—something you can choose to obey or not. Others see it as being a missionary in your own home or community (which is fantastic; I felt that way for the longest time). Some people see missions as a full-time career, while some see it as going on a summer mission trip every once and a while.

That’s all well and good, but that does mean not everyone understands one another, especially when their views differ.

What’s been the hardest for me is being open about my callings, mostly because few people understand them. I don’t mind the opinionated remarks or the trying to fix my “skewed” mindset. I don’t even really care if they care—not to sound rude, but my future doesn’t hinge on anyone’s approval but God’s.

It does sting sometimes, though, when I can’t talk about it or get excited about it because no one else feels the same way.

Which is why I am extremely thankful for my mom, who is definitely my biggest supporter, especially of being a wife and mother.

And I’m also thankful for God continually giving me strength and faith in His plans for my life. Yeah, few people get it. Yeah, some might think I’m crazy. Sure, it’s difficult. Sure, I may never meet another person that feels the same way.

But He’ll make a way. He’ll provide me with a partner who has the same desires and convictions. (Lord knows I couldn’t find one on my own.) He’ll support me even if no one else on the planet does. And He understands and He is there and He will never leave me nor forsake me, because He loves me and He has planted these desires within me and He’ll see His will fulfilled.

I would like to write a few separate posts all about my commissions and convictions, but I’ll save that for some time in the future.

Anyway, I know this was an extremely long post and my answers were probably too long and boring and you probably skimmed your way here, but I still got to share a lot of things that mean very much to me, especially in this season.

And as I look at the new year—2021—I can already see new blessings coming everyday. One of my greatest blessings of 2021 (yes, y’all get a bonus) is my new friend Sophia. Y’all, she is a true answer to prayer. Not only has she served as God’s confirmation of my writing (particularly this one really long novel that has been beating me up for over a year now...I’m looking at you, Bound and Determined), but she has also brought a ton of joy into my life and been such a huge encouragement to me!

So, thank you, Sophia! You have no idea how much your friendship (and readership) means to me!

Now, to tag five more bloggers!

Joy Caroline E. K. Seaver Kristianne E. G. Bella Kadotake-san

Well, I think that’s all for now! Thank you for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed all my weirdness! It's not often I get so personal. Don’t forget to count your blessings!

#yetanotherlongpost #weirdness #blessed #thegreatcommission #thoughtfulabout #blogtag #ifyouarereadingthispostyouaremybestfriendtoo

The Conspiracy (Reign: Part 2)

Reign

Part Two: The Conspiracy

High Castle of Magni

Year I in the Reign of Queen Ambrosia

I’m a fool.

Were I a better man, a better Guardian, I would not be here. As a matter of fact, I would be in there, engaged in the conversation I was rather listening in on. At the very least, I would be respecting the privacy of my superiors and minding my own business—that is, attending to the Queen, who had most likely retreated to her room after supper.

But the years had time and again proven that I was not a better man, nor a better Guardian, nor in any way deserving of the title bestowed upon me because of naught but my privileged birth.

And now that my eavesdropping had been justified, I was free to continue listening. I inclined my head to the small sliver afforded me by the neglected door. ‘Twas often that doors were left cracked open or unlocked, due to the presence of trustworthy Guardians at every turn. The greater portion of us knew not to repeat anything that was heard—better yet, not to hear anything at all. It was not for fear of punishment that we kept our lips sealed—it was that we quite honestly had nothing to repeat. Business dealings were either commonly known or boring topics. Meetings between the Guardians were never of any import to others within the castle walls, for when the Elders deigned to speak to us, it was usually concerning a new regulation or a party going out to survey the lands beyond Magni’s walls.

Of course, private discussions between two people—such as a queen and her advisor or husband—were often carried on in hushed tones that forbade anyone from catching what was spoken.

But no private discussions had been had within several years now, not since the death of King Galen two years past.

Until today, that is.

I quieted my thoughts, particularly the ones that demanded answers to questions I couldn’t voice, and strained to hear the Guardian’s words.

“Something must be done.” Governor Kasek’s voice, gravelly and hushed as if he sensed my presence.

A shuffle—papers, feet, a dress? Nay, the long robe worn only by one person…

“What do you propose, Kasek? There is naught which can be done,” piped up a voice far louder than the other murmurs within the king’s old study. Commandant Rubin, likely with his corded arms folded over his chest and his ankles crossed before him.

Then, before Kasek could reply, a smoother, gentler voice. One of few years and little hardship. One trained to flow like honeyed milk. “You underestimate the lengths to which I will go, Rubin. As do you, Arawn.”

…the Regent.

My thoughts resumed their chatter, each one overlapping the other. The foremost: what business had the Regent with the Guardians? The second: why had I not been summoned? The next: what had gone so wrong that only the Regent had the will to change it?

Despite his lofty title, the Regent held less power than the child queen did. His title was merely that—a title, the role he played at court and toward the people of Magni. His was the face behind the nation, the voice that spoke decisions made by the governors and commandants.

He had once been King Galen’s advisor, though there were few instances in which his advice had been implemented. The Guardians’ voice rang over his every time, and the king was all but forced by their power to concede, regardless of his advisor’s opinions or his own intentions.

It was for the best. The Guardians knew Magni far better than the one who wore the crown—whether ‘twas a grown man or a young girl. We knew the land, we knew the law, and we knew the people.

Because we had made it.

Why then was it the Regent, who stood in Queen Ambrosia’s place as the listening ear, nodding head, and smiling face, to whom the Guardians turned?

“A legitimate claim must be made, else the throne will be corrupted,” said the Regent, consideration coloring his tone.

Another shuffle. Was he rifling through Galen’s desk?

I braced myself with an elbow against the war, leaning toward the opening with as much body control and silence as I could retain. I could see nothing but the gleam of Commandant Rubin’s chain mail in the sunlight. Certainly nothing that attested to the Regent’s movements.

“Or the Commonwealth could be reinstated,” remarked the commandant, light bouncing off of his armor as he shifted away from the wall.

The Regent scoffed. Another man, perhaps even I, would toss my hands in the air, laugh, or even shake my head and sigh.

But not the Regent. Ever he was in full control, calm, contained. I’d not once seen his feathers ruffled, not in the years I had known him.

He was likely still focused on the papers, presumably at the king’s desk. But the displeasure I heard was emotion enough. “The Commonwealth? That vile institution? Surely you jest, Commandant. The Commonwealth restricted Magni for too long, stifling our growth with its scattered focus. The monarchy brings concentration, clarity, and purpose. We have expanded and grown under the guidance of a single ruler. Do not take offense, Commandant. There is no doubt your Guardian predecessors tried their best to govern this country, but none can deny the positive change that has been wrought in Magni since the Reign of Anactoria.

“Nay, we cannot revert back to the old, stagnant ways. The usurper must be removed and a more worthy ruler put in her place.”

Ambrosia.

They spoke of Ambrosia.

It was an obvious conclusion, and yet nothing of what they said made a lick of sense. A legitimate claim? The usurper? Surely they did not see Galen’s daughter as an illegitimate supplanter.

Unless…

I nearly laughed at my trailing thoughts and suspicions. Either way you looked at it, Ambrosia was the granddaughter of Queen Myia, and the fourth great-granddaughter of Queen Anactoria.

Hers was the only claim to the throne.

At least, it should be.

If my deduction was correct, why did they think such? And just how did they intend to remove my charge from her position as queen?

Better question: who would they put in her place?

“Only one could claim the throne after her, Your Grace. Only Brehnan remains to share the blood of Queen Myia.”

Ah, there spoke Arawn, ever the voice of reason, supporting the only clear answer to the Regent’s proposed problem.

Me.

Wait a minute here. Surely they didn’t intend to make me king?

“Not Brehnan.”

They didn’t. Good.

Never mind that. Not good. If not I, the last of Queen Myia’s three sons, then who? My mother had been the only daughter of Queen Alianor, and hence all others bearing traces of Queen Anactoria’s blood were too distant of relations to lay claim to her throne.

This not knowing was killing me. If these wayward Guardians and the Regent didn’t begin talking plainly, I might lose what shred of control I had left and burst in upon them.

“The foreign blood of Queen Myia’s husband has defiled her offspring, and thereby, the throne. We must purge the royal bloodline of such filth.”

And just how do you intend to do that, Your Grace? Put yourself on the throne?

“Search out those bearing the blood of Queen Anactoria. We shall wed a man of Magni to one of her descendants, a woman of pure breeding unlike the defiled Ambrosia, and breed a new queen.”

‘Twas a good plan in theory, but what the Regent didn’t take into consideration was that he would find removing Ambrosia and me no easy task. Besides, Ambrosia had all of Magni captivated by their child queen, their hope for a newer, brighter life. The people would not so quickly and blindly agree to the Regent’s foolish scheme—especially considering how shallow his grounds.

Our progressive, growing country—the one the Regent was so proud of—had been enamored by the royal couple, by my parents. The young princess marrying a foreigner, and not for wealth or ties, but for love.

It was a story told by minstrels and poets, one lauded across Magni for, hopefully, righting the wrongs dealt by Anactoria’s hand.

But then Myia had died young, leaving three sons behind, only one of whom that wed. The second son died at ten and four, and the third became a Guardian, taking an oath never to wed.

Ambrosia was Magni’s last hope—perhaps even the hope of nations beyond.

They could not be rid of her, no matter how impure her blood.

“And we shall do what with the rightful heirs?” Kasek questioned, curiosity increasing his volume.

Surely he wasn’t falling in with the Regent? The wise governor knew better than to follow along with the schemes of a landless advisor gifted his title only because of his friendship with the king.

Or did he?

The Regent chuckled, coming into my view in a wave of thick robes and cloaks. The shaft of light before him blurred his expression, but I knew his face well. And I knew that accompanying that soft, rumbling laugh was a malicious glint in his eyes.

“We shall kill them.”

Missed Part 1? Read it here!

#theriver #reign #serial #fantasy #theguardiansofmagni

April Updates!

Well, I'm back! And I'm kicking off this month with a bang! Did you see my last post? I'm starting my first ever blog serial--and it's a continuation of my first ever fantasy story, The River! I'm super psyched about it, so let me know in the comments what you're looking forward to seeing in the next part!

So...my main objective with this post is to update you on my progress from last month, during which I was on hiatus (ish...I never really stop working at all). I had a TON of fantastic guest posts that month, so I hope you'll circle back and check them out!

Anyway, along with my progress report, I'll give you a sneak peek into what this month will look like and let you know about some of my other projects!

BUT FIRST! An announcement...Held Captive was on sale from March 24th to the 28th, and I sold (or gave away) 260 copies!!!!!! Even better, HC was #6 on Amazon's bestselling Christian historical romance list!!!!!! Thank you guys so much for all of your support and for snagging your free copy!!!! Held Captive was a bestseller! (For, like, a day, but I'm taking it!)

I have been super busy writing posts for Kingdom Pen (read the latest one here), and that's one of the main (but still awesome) reasons why I haven't written as much in Bound and Determined as I'd hoped.

I'm also still writing my second post on predestination. Y'all, this is some seriously deep theological stuff, and I have a hard time getting into that deep, theological mindset. When it comes, it comes, I guess.

Anyway, thanks to my friend Grace @ The Fantastical Musings of Kadotake-san, who challenged her followers and friends to write 1k a week, I got a good bit of words in. Suffice it to say that I didn't consistently write 1k every day for a week, but this challenge did help me!

Now, for the truth. I wrote 13,198 words in March, all in Bound and Determined.

Now, before we dive into the main stuff, I have a TON of goodies for y'all!

#1 I recently discovered this awesome thing called My Readers Rewards Club. It's run by Tyndale, which publishes Francine Rivers and several other fantastic authors! You can sign up, complete activities, and collect points to redeem a free book! If you're interested, click here!

#2 A LOT of my favorites authors are hosting an Easter giveaway this year--and you can enter and earn extra entries by clicking here!

#3 The infamous The Nature of a Lady is available for preorder! I'm a ways into it, and lemme tell y'all, it is FABULOUS! The setting of Cornwall...ugh, guys, I am falling in love with this place all over again! Anyway, the special preorder price (which expires on May 4th) is available here, and if you're interested in ordering the book from your favorite bookstores, you can find out more here! #thenatureofalady #areyouready #newrelease #favoriteauthor

What's coming next?

#1 More installments of Reign! I'm shooting for every Thursday, but life may intervene. Keep a weather eye on the horizon, mates!

#2 Book reviews! I've been binge-reading a ton of series and trying some new authors, so not only will I have my regular reviews, I'll also keep up my monthly mini (ish) reviews! Look for March's reviews within a few days!

#3 A SNEAK PEEK! Bound and Determined is clicking along, and I've written a ton of fun, romantic, and inspiring scenes I can't wait to share with y'all!

#4 Book covers! I'm especially excited to show off my cover-designing skills (or lack of, you decide). I hope to begin selling some of my covers, too, so if you'd like to request one, just shoot me an email! I'll be showcasing some of my favorites this month!

#5 An author Q&A! You may have noticed the form below...fill it out and ask me a question (or twenty million)! I can't wait to share more about myself and my writing journey with y'all, so ask away!

Now, I've mentioned multiple times that I have several short story projects simmering on the back burner. I've been outlining and plotting and developing, and I'm finally ready to announce them!

Daylight

More info is on the way, but for now I'd like to give y'all a teaser!

,September 12th, 2001

,New York City

,

,“August...August, no! No! Stop! Wait! Don’t—”

, But by then, it was too late. The words are like metallic blood, coating the tongue and lips that spoke them a moment too late. I still, twelve hours later, have the urge to finish my sentence, to call out to deaf ears. I swallow down the words, slinking up to the elevator door with my head hanging. I’m ducking to avoid being swept into the raging current of doctors with IVs and patients on beds and harried nurses behind me as much as I’m ducking to hide my tears.

, What’s the use? We’re all crying today, just as we were all screaming yesterday.

, I linger at the elevator door for what seems like an eternity, the world passing me by in snatches and flutters in my peripheral. Finally it dings and the door opens, but my movements are sluggish as I shuffle inside. My arms and legs feel like leaden gelatin—too heavy to lift but too lifeless to support me anymore.

,It's too late.

Whaddya think? Lemme know in the comments below!

A Disguise of Devotion

- a Mulan retelling -

Russia, 1812

“I do nothing for Russia. I do all for my family.”

Magnolia Zima has suffered time and again at the hands of the French—from her runaway aristocratic father to Napoleon who thirsts for domination of her home country. For the sake of her family, she disguises as a boy to deliver an important message to the Russian troops.

One of six fairytale retellings, A Disguise of Devotion is something I'm super excited about! What do you think?

Welp, I think that's everything! Thanks for hanging with me while I gushed about everything that's to come! Y'all have a fantastic week!

Review: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

*Warnings*

#1 This is a long review, so pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn. You'll be here awhile. #2 When I read a review, I want substantial information. So I will not skimp on the details. Which will mean some spoilers, so watch out. #3—additional warning reserved only for this review—I may rant. As in, babble incoherently about my feelings for this book. And I may spend more of my time examining the characters rather than actually reviewing the book. So beware.

I’m an idiot for having never read this book.

It’s no secret that I’ve never considered myself an Austen fan. Of course, one simply must admire Ms. Austen for her writing skills and infamy. And I did enjoy the Pride and Prejudice 2005 movie, to a degree. And I read Persuasion last year, in hopes of acquiring a deeper love for Jane Austen.

Well, I didn’t. Persuasion was not quite what I hoped it to be, although it was what I expected, and the only thing I truly enjoyed about it was the ending—particularly Frederick’s letter.

So when I entered into the new year, I resolved to do differently. I was wholly convinced—per the persuasion (pun intended) of several friends—that Pride and Prejudice was well worth it, and perhaps even above Persuasion.

It was. It is.

I am...y’all. Why in the world have I never read Pride and Prejudice until now?? I just...I cannot express with mere words my ardent admiration for this work of epic literary proportions, this majestic romance which will forever haunt my soul. You must let me fumble my way around some semblance of an explanation for why I feel this way. Hopefully you’ll hear me out better than Elizabeth did Mr. Darcy.

The story. Y’all, I know there are some haters out there (like, two, I think), but this is just a beautiful story!!! Everything about it is perfection. It moves along smoothly, the focus on the certain places and events it needs to be on for just the right amount of time.

Unlike Persuasion, Elizabeth and Darcy had a fair amount of screen time, so to speak, which made reading through every chapter (of which there are many) so worth it!

Austen’s writing was very easy to read and keep up with. I never even had to reread a single sentence, which I found myself doing all throughout Persuasion. The narrative is balanced so well, and the dialogue—oh, the dialogue! I didn’t believe them when they said that Austen is so full of wit and satirical humor and profoundness—but it’s true; she is! (I love how even when an author has been dead for centuries, we still refer to them in the present tense—writers never die.)

But the best part? Oh, the best part is the characters!

Mrs. Bennet. I don’t remember her from the movie, so I could never conjure up an image of her in my mind, or even color her in a negative light. She was hilarious! Pure hilarity at its finest! I will say she is not the ideal mother, but all but one of her daughters turned out well enough, so I really have no reason to complain.

“You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”

Mr. Bennet. I have an odd affinity for this man. His dark humor and sarcasm cracked me up on more than one occasion. I loved every minute, every word of him—but I still can’t figure out why he likes Wickham best of all his sons-in-law. He’s a right strange fellow, certainly not a model father, but as a character he was the monotony to his wife’s chaos and the wit to her bluntness.

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least.”

Mr. Bingley. Ah, now here’s a fellow! The popular question is why he is such close friends with Darcy, but I personally wonder if the question isn’t actually if affability isn’t a fault, particularly in one such as Bingley. I know Austen’s intention was to call out pride and prejudice, but what if she were also warning against the traits presented in Charles and Jane? (I know this is going off-topic, but let me rant for a second.) I mean, Bingley was fooled by his sister and persuaded to forfeit the love of his life by his best friend. His amiable attitude caused people to take advantage of him, make him to be a laughingstock, and made him susceptible to deception.

I personally think that, unlike Elizabeth Bennet, Austen wasn’t biased toward pride or humility, prejudice or open-mindedness. In fact, I think she found fault with both and intended to make us see the folly if being too much of one or the other. I mean, it’s quite obvious that Mr. Darcy is the hero of the story, right? He is completely honest and the model male for his time. (Adam Nicolson did a study on all that. I read the highlights here.) So, what if Darcy wasn’t in the wrong? What if Bingley was?

Just a thought. Otherwise, I quite liked this character! He didn’t play much of a role outside of lovesick pup, but, you know, no story is complete without one of those.

As Mr. Bennet so aptly said:

“You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income.”

Jane Bennet. Now, let us disregard what I insinuated when I spoke of Bingley and focus on how much I loved Jane! She was everything a woman should be, yes? Beautiful and kindhearted, tender and compassionate, demure and meek. Don’t we all wish to be Jane?

I’m not actually being sarcastic, but for those of y’all who didn’t like Jane, can’t we at least agree that her relationship with Elizabeth was one of the highlights of this novel? They supported each other and made the other better! Jane gave Elizabeth fresh eyes and a clear vision, a purpose and a directive, a cause; while Elizabeth gave Jane strength and undying devotion, a listening ear, and a shoulder to carry her burdens. They are the dearest pair of sisters I have ever read of, and I wish me and my sisters could have the same relationship.

Alas, none of us are Janes, and I believe I may err closer to Elizabeth in personality, though I’m certainly not quite as prejudiced. Toward people in real life, that is. I’m very biased when it comes to my book characters.

Back to the point, Jane was awesome. Jane + Elizabeth were awesome. I mean, greatest sister duo ever. Say what you will, but they are.

Caroline Bingley. As for the other Bingley, Caroline is not amiable, not affable, and not liable to be deceived. Rather, she is the deceiver. For all her flaws and her spiteful attitude, I would like to know more of Caroline. She was only one third of the conflict, but a crucial part in separating not only Jane and Charles but Elizabeth and Darcy as well. I actually didn’t find her annoying (my annoyance is reserved for Lydia, of course), and I would like to read (or perhaps even write) her story one day.

Charlotte Lucas. Ah, Miss Lucas/Mrs. Collins. Now she’s an interesting character. Is she a good friend or not? A fount of wisdom or not? Does she have good sense or not? Eh...probably not. I mean, to marry Mr. Collins, one’s got to be loose a few screws.

I’m honestly not certain of the role she played in Elizabeth’s life, other than removing Mr. Collins from her. (For which I am both grateful and regretful on her behalf.) I will say this: she takes her own advice.

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

Hopefully she was right.

Mr. Collins. Of course, with mention of the wife, we transition to the husband. Mr. Collins is Mr. Collins. I can say no more. I actually remember him, to a degree, from the movie, and can I just say that he is no different and no more or less annoying in the book? He’s a really odd fellow. Just odd, I say. It makes me wonder if Austen had something against rectors...wasn’t her dad a vicar or something?

For as vexing as he was, I knew that Darcy would reign supreme, so I wasn’t entirely put off by him, but, dude, does he know how to kiss butts! I think I feel for him what Mr. Bennet does—an immense amount of amusement brewed with a great deal of disdain.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It’s only natural that I succeed Mr. Collins with his most favorite person in the whole wide world—not his wife, not his would-have-been fiancee, not his cousin—but Lady de Bourgh. This woman was a beast! And, might I add, the epitome of all that Austen suggests with the title Pride and Prejudice? (For that matter, I think she might have been the character for which Persuasion was named as well. You know, to honor her memory and all, let me write a book all about a mean old lady persuading people to do stupid stuff like fall in love and get married. Not that Lady Russell was half as nasty as Lady de Bourgh, but you know what I mean.)

However, as the second of the three thirds (that’s an oxymoron, isn’t it?) of conflict, I think Lady de Bourgh played her role the best. Like her nephew, she was thoroughly honest. She didn’t lie, she didn’t kiss butts, she didn’t deceive. She was herself, and if you didn’t like it, then that was your problem. You have to admire an antagonist who can pull that off. I do respect Lady de Bourgh enough that I think it would have been interesting to see her perspective in depth.

Now, there’s an idea.

George Wickham. UGH. Like, do I have to write about this guy? I mean, my feelings toward him are pretty obvious—the world over feels the same, after all. Since I watched the movie before reading the book (probably not a good idea, I suppose), I knew what he was about from the first moment I met him, but STILL. He is so slimy and deceptive and just plain evil. And yet...so suave and smooth and you just can’t reconcile his vile intent with his calm, cool exterior.

But since I really disliked Lydia, I really only felt for Darcy. Like, HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH HIS NAME, YOU RODENT. *clears throat* Pardon my exuberance, but y’all know how I feel for Darcy. Oh, wait. You don’t. I haven’t gotten there yet. Ha.

Mary, Kitty, and Lydia Bennet. Now, I’m bunching all three of these together because (1) I don’t want to be here all day and (2) there’s really not much to say. From the youngest to the oldest of the three, my thoughts on the youngest Bennets:

Lydia—impertinent, selfish, wanton, and materialistic. She’s honestly the odd one out of her sisters, the one who deserves a good ol’ fashioned whupping (don’t look at me like that; we all know it’s true), and yet the favored one of the family. Favored by her mother for being so much like her, and favored by her father for having Wickham for a husband. Strange, very strange, but still true. I never actually hated a single one of the characters in P&P apart from Wickham, so although Lydia was difficult to put up with, she wasn’t quite as bad as I’d feared.

Kitty—invisible. I really wanted more of Kitty! I can’t peg her. Is she spineless, following Lydia’s every notion and whim as portrayed—or does she actually have a voice? For all the characterization, all the heart and soul that Austen poured into every single one of her characters, she almost fully ignored Kitty. Even Mary, who I’ll get to next, actually had some great moments. But Kitty? Nothing! And that seems strange, coming from Jane Austen.

Mary—fantastic. Why do I say that? Because I empathize with her! She’s a nerd, and nobody likes that. Of course, she has her pitfalls, but I also see her as more introspective and unassuming then any of the other characters. I think, within time, she would grow up to possess a lovely mind, if not a pretty face. She has her moments of profoundness, which I always welcomed in the midst of so much drama and so little common sense.

“Pride is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary.”

Elizabeth Bennet. At long last, we have arrived! All throughout the reading of this book, I imagined Kiera Knightley’s Elizabeth Bennet, and, y’all, SHE IS LIZZIE. Her performance in the 2005 film was exquisite. (Can’t say the same for Matthew Macfadyen, but that’s a post for another day.)

But, strictly speaking of the book, I actually didn’t like Elizabeth. Her prejudice was stronger than Darcy’s pride and entirely unwarranted. She hung on every word spoken by that...that...ugh. By Wickham. Like, she was falling all over him for half the book, while I could only sit idly by and attempt to pound sense into her noggin by banging my Kindle on the table (which I did not do, for the sake of the $70 spent on said Kindle).

You get my point.

What struck me as odd is that I didn’t ever love Elizabeth, but I don’t hate her either. And she’s not merely tolerable either.

I’m almost never on good terms with heroines. I tend to fangirl over the heroes, after all, and I naturally feel deeper for the male characters (or the grandmas). Such is the case for Pride and Prejudice, but whereas in most cases I feel nothing (neither disdain or affection) for the heroine, or I hate her entirely, I possess a measure of sisterly affection for Elizabeth.

For example, if I were to speak to Lizzie, I would say: “I think you’re being an idiot, but I understand where you’re coming from. I wish I could make you see reason, but only because I care enough about you to see you do things right. I admire your audacity, your vibrancy, and your vicariousness. Of course, you annoy me to no end with your prejudice of my man Darcy and your blindness toward the faults of others, but your devotion for Jane and your zeal for life automatically garners my appreciation.”

However, were I to mention her to Jane Austen, I’d probably be more like: “How in the world did you do it? You wrote a character that I see so clearly that I can’t help but love and hate her at the same time! She’s so human, full of virtues that I admire and aspire to possess, yet mired in great failure and blindness. Her character is so poignant, so well-defined, so astutely understood, that I cannot help but care for her. It is as if I knew her and made her myself.” (And rightfully so, for I feel much the same for most of my own heroines.)

So, yeah, those are my thoughts on Lizzie.

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."

Fitzwilliam Darcy. Before we dive in, let us all stop. Breathe. Banish all images and actors from our minds. Savor that beautiful Anglo-Norman and French name. And gush over how beautiful it is! Can we do that for a second? I mean, seriously. Fitzwilliam is, like, the coolest name EVER and although he is Darcy, it would’ve been cool to see him called by his forename every once and a while. And the French and Norman roots? (Pardon the girl in the middle of reading Tamara Leigh’s Age of Conquest series…) Magnifique. I mean, I know everybody’s name at that time had Norman roots, but still. Just...let me have this one, please?

Okay, now that that’s over with, let’s get into the imagery.

Yes, I watched the movie. Despite Pinterest’s obsession with Matthew Macfadyen and his smile, he’s not Mr. Darcy. I think I’m beginning to warm to him (as in, I wouldn’t call him ugly anymore, simply because that’s rude), but he’s not Mr. Darcy.

No, I have not watched the 1995 BBC miniseries, although I want to. However, Colin Firth is not Mr. Darcy. (Man, I can feel all of the toes I’m stepping on and the hearts I’m breaking and, no, please don’t cuss me out. If you see Colin Firth as Darcy, more power to you. I mean, you have a face for the name. But don’t discriminate against me for refusing to see him as my beloved Darcy. See, I said discriminate; now you really can’t say anything mean.)

No, again, I haven’t even seen the 1940 movie with Laurence Olivier. Though, can I say I probably won’t, because, I mean, really. Hoop skirts? C’mon, Hollywood! Just because Gone with the Wind was a hit doesn’t mean you have to throw hoop skirts into every movie!

Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that Darcy quickly took on a persona all his own. I can’t tell you what he does or doesn’t look like, but I can say that he is very much his own man. No one could ever portray him, because no one could ever know him—not like Austen does, at least. His character is so broad, so multifaceted, so uncertain, that he is almost incomprehensible. A mystery. An enigma.

I don’t even want to talk about the usual stuff—his pride, his relationship with Bingley, his rivalry with Wickham, his love for Elizabeth (SQUEE!)--none of it. Maybe in a separate post, I will, but for now I just want to sit here and dwell on how wonderful Darcy is and how much I love him.

He’s, like, broody and macho...but not. Unlike everyone’s two-dimensional alpha or beta male heroes nowadays, Darcy is something totally separate from labels or classification. He transcends all of the stereotypes. (Say what you will, Nicolson; I personally believe that Mr. Darcy is unique.)

Going into Pride and Prejudice, I honestly didn’t think I could be so affected. But I was. I am. Mr. Darcy lured me in, reeled me in, caught me hook, line, and sinker. Battered and fried me. (Okay, now I’m starting to sound weird…) But seriously. He is one of the greatest (if not the greatest) heroes of all time for a reason.

He’s Mr. Darcy.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

(And, yes, I chose Mr. Macfadyen over Mr. Firth. You have to admit he has better gifs.)

And I think that’s a great way to end this review/rant/character examination. I love Darcy and I love Jane Austen. Now, to see if Emma and Mr. Knightley can steal what’s left of my heart!

#janeausten #mrdarcy #prideandprejudice #iminlove

New Blog Serial!!!

So...I'm officially doing something crazy.

Like, crazier than usual.

I'm doing a serial. On here--my beloved blog. And although it may seem like I stole this idea from my good friend Emily (whose blog serials are awesome--you should totally check them out), I would advise you not to assume such. You might besmirch my reputation.

Anyway, it is a good idea. So I may or may not have commandeered it. Commandeered, mind you; not stole. It's a nautical term.

But back to the point...

I have been so pleased by the awesome feedback I've gotten on my first ever fantasy short story, The River, so I have decided to continue it! But, I've been so busy with BAD and all of the my other projects, and I have a long waiting list for books, so I knew it would be a while before anyone ever got to read anything even remotely related to The River...which prompted the idea of a serial.

So here we are!

Picking up right where we left off, I'll be writing eleven more installments (give or take) for y'all to enjoy! But before we jump right in, I want y'all to refresh your memory by reading The River, which you can do by clicking the cover below!

Drop by next week to read Part 2: The Conspiracy!

Guest Post: The Papyrus of Ancient Russia by Abigail Metzger

Y'all, I am so excited to have my friend Abigail back with us for another fantastic guest post! If you haven't read her first, you can do so here!

Abigail is an awesome writer, and her current WIP is set in a fantasy world similar to Ancient Russia--so she's done a TON of interesting research, and she's here to share some of that with us today! Let us know what you think in the comments!

So, without further ado, here's her post!

To begin, I would like to thank the amazing author, Grace Johnson for letting me write this article for her incredible blog; thank you, Grace! This article is based on a single aspect of a broad topic for me: the birch tree. Yes, I know that might sound slightly -or completely- boring to some, but this tree plays a heavy role in my writing and is awesome in many senses. From medicines to boats, shoes to boxes, tea to tar; the birch is a subject to many. But for this article, I’m taking one of the most writerly approaches.

-A Brief History

Birch bark was to ancient Russia and the Slavs what papyrus was to the Egyptians. On July 26, 1951, an expedition in Novgorod discovered the first Russian birch bark writing. Nearly a thousand other writings have been found since. The writings had been preserved in heavy clay and many, when excavated were in surprisingly good condition. They would be anything from receipts to documents of a more formal nature and though rare, even church sermons; but most were ordinary letters between people, giving today an insight to a time and place where little historical documentation on its culture was offered.

And among the writings, styluses made of iron, bone, and bronze were found. These were the main writing tools used in the birch bark writings, letters, and manuscripts. Very few were ever written in ink. The writings and drawings of a young boy from the thirteenth century named Onfim were an incredible find for dear history. Seventeen of seven-year-old Onfim’s works which had been written with a sharp stylus were found. Onfim had accidentally and uniquely crafted a priceless time capsule to Medieval Novgorod. Twelve of his seventeen birch letters had illustrations, including those of warriors, arrows, people, horses, and even one of his father whom he said in the text was a warrior and that Onfim wanted to grow up to be just like him. Onfim also wrote among his school exercises and drawings: fragments of psalms on his birch bark letters.

-How To Make A Birch Bark Letter

Birch bark paper is, without doubt, amazing. And if you’re interested in reliving what it might have felt like to be in those far gone days, writing primitively on birch bark… read on! To be honest, I think birch bark paper is a very whimsical and romantic break from traditional paper, (absolutely no offense to traditional paper, because it’s still a necessary tool). Birch bark paper is kind of like drinking an exotic tea or wielding a quill pen, the aesthetic is irresistible. So step one to making a birch bark paper is to peel a strip/strips of bark from a fallen -but not completely rotted - birch, (since stripping it from a live birch will injure the tree). You may have to strip the bark further to reach the thin paper-like layer depending on what stage of curling the bark was at when it fell. Secondly, you may want to clean the bark if there’s extra dirt on it. Scrubbing it with water and a firm bristle-textured brush or anything you have that you think will clean it, will work fine. But just a warning: though it makes a cleaner surface to write, the more you clean the bark, the more layers of moss and pretty natural details you will lose. Next, you’ll let it dry -or if you didn’t use water, skip this step- perhaps put something heavy on it to keep it flat or it might curl. Heat can help to fix curling, but a little curl isn’t all bad. I can write on curled birch and it will still look beautiful. Then you can either cut and shape your birch paper or leave it as it is, those beautifully ancient-feeling rough edges and all. Now you can either write on it with a ballpoint pen or pencil. Or maybe even experiment and find your very own stylus for your birch letter!

-Uses For Birch Paper

Now, I doubt you need any help in finding uses for birch bark paper if you ever decide to make some, but in case you need a tad of inspiration as I did, here are a few ideas: #1 Poetry, your own or one by a favorite poet. Then either put them in a box or leaving them on your desk. #2 Letters for anybody and any occasion.

#3 Time capsule?

#4 Illustrations and drawings.

#5 A report of seeing a mythical creature from your fantasy story? #6 Or just write something in another language. #7 I know it sounds cheesy, but the possibilities are endless.

This concludes my article and I’d like to take it as an opportunity to thank the awesome Grace once again and you as well for reading! You all have an incredible day!

-- Abigail Metzger

A Week's Worth of Laughter (Week Five: MORE Memes!)

I've got a little bit of everything today, guys. Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Pirates of the Caribbean. Geico. I hope y'all enjoy!

(Please note: I do not own the rights to any of these images. I sourced them all from Pinterest. If you own the rights and would like them removed or would like to be credited, please contact me through the homepage. Thank you!)

Coming Soon: The Nature of a Lady by Roseanna M. White

Do y'all remember that one post from months ago, in which we all gushed over one of the most beautiful covers in history? You don't? Oh, well, that's a shame. However, you can read that post here and reacquaint yourself with the wonderful novel you can start reading on April 1st!

You heard me right. You have the chance to sign up for a daily sneak peek of The Nature of a Lady by Roseanna M. White in your inbox, starting April 1st!!!!

Can you feel the excitement in the air?

Already readers are gushing about this book (and the fantastic cover, am I right?), so don't miss out on the chance to get started!!

Now, if you haven't heard about The Nature of a Lady or Roseanna M. White, then why don't you read a little bit about the book, or read my review of Roseanna's latest release, Dreams of Savannah, OR check out our interview!

1906

Lady Elizabeth "Libby" Sinclair, with her love of microscopes and nature, isn’t exactly a hit in society. She flees to the beautiful Isles of Scilly for the summer...and stumbles into the dangerous secrets left behind by her holiday cottage’s former occupant, also called Elizabeth, who mysteriously vanished.

Oliver Tremayne—gentleman and clergyman—is determined to discover what happened to his sister, and he’s happy to accept the help of the girl now living in what should have been Beth’s summer cottage…especially when he realizes it’s the curious young lady he met briefly two years ago, who shares his love of botany and biology. But the hunt for his sister involves far more than nature walks, and he can’t quite believe all the secrets Beth had been keeping from him.

As the two work together, along with Libby’s maid—his cousin—they find ancient legends, pirate wrecks, betrayal, and the most mysterious phenomenon of all: love.

Now, about that #sneakpeek... Are you ready? Sign up here! I don't know about y'all, but I can't wait to read #thenatureofalady!

Y'all keep an eye out for more posts in the coming weeks, plus my review close to the release date (May 4th)!

What new books are y'all looking forward to this summer?