Anne Elisabeth Stengl's Blog, page 4

FEY BORN - Hannah Williams

 

Prelude
            Though his mother had done her best to keep him away from the villages, Swiftwing learned at a very young age that he was not like other boys. Other boys had fathers and other boys were never avoided with wide eyes and signs of fear and reverence.             No one ever told him he was not supposed to learn the language his mother wove with her fingers so he learned it quicker than many a child, and when he discovered that there was another language, one of noise that only men used, he learned that too, though it was seldom that he heard it.             But then his mother lay down ill, and soon the day came that he could not wake her. Then in tears, he’d made his lonely way to the village, and the men took him in as one of them. Yet he was not one of them, for still they held him in awe and respect that they gave to no other youth.             Only once did any man dare act against him, and it was when Swiftwing was still very young and had not learned that the language of dancing fingers was only for women. The first and last time he spoke it in the men’s presence, one of them struck him so hard across the face he saw stars for the rest of the day. But the other men were provoked to fear, as if something might strike them for striking him.             So he lived amongst them, yet ever apart. Equal, yet ever above, but ever below. And the higher they held him, the lower he felt.             The night that the Wolf Lord died, all their reverence turned to rage. 
            The shadows of night had fallen upon the South Land, and in them could be felt a darkness greater still—the darkness of crawling fear and teeming hatred.             Hunkered against the ground, Swiftwing could nearly feel the earth pulsing with uncertainty and anger. He lay perfectly still, listening and looking for any sign of danger. The sharp smell of the soil beneath his cheek stung in his nostrils, and a few wandering insects crawled across his prone body, but he paid them no heed. Perhaps no one else would have felt the tension running through the night, a night humming with the life of the jungle. But he felt the aches of the land as clearly as that of his own body.              A distant cry broke the false calm. Swiftwing’s muscles tightened in response, ready again for flight if need be. But the cry was different than what he’d expected, far more high and child-like than that of a man’s, and yet not that of a child nor an animal. Ever so silently, he lifted himself up and cocked his head to hear better. Yes, now he could hear what he expected—the rumble of warrior’s voices and running feet. He should leave now, make certain their path did not cross his.             But he remained still, his gazing piercing through the forests towards the first and foreign cry. What might have caused it, and why were the warriors hunting it? In the very tip of his hearing, he fancied he heard the song of a daytime bird, beckoning him forth from his hiding. His heart responded to it with little thought, following its call as naturally as that of his own instinct. He gathered himself up into a crouch and darted through the brush, agile and cunning as a wildcat. The sound of the unknown creature stumbling through the jungle drew him to it, and in mere moments, he sprang onto a log and stared down into the dell below.             A woman hunkered below him, struggling to loosen her long dark hair from where it had tangled in a thicket of thorns. She was not yet aware of his presence, but he could see the whites of her eyes rolling to watch for her pursuers as she jerked fruitlessly against the branches, her effort for freedom only sounding alarms for her capture.             He leapt down from the log and landed beside her. At his appearance, the strange terrible cry sounded again—from her mouth. He stared, appalled. Women made no sound! They only spoke with their lovely fingers and faces. But he could not deny the truth of her whimpers or the terror held within them.             Silence, they will hear you! he said, weaving his words with his hands, the speech he always took around women if there were no men nearby. He knelt beside her and grabbed for the branches, snapping them one by one with care to avoid the many sharp thorns.             But though she made no sound again, she shoved against him with all her strength and leapt the other direction, the bush again yanking her to a halt with a loud rustle.             “I will not hurt you, I will not hurt you,” he hissed in a whisper, realizing that she may not have been able to see his hands in the dark. It was hard to remember that no one seemed to see as well as him at night. Yet his voice did not comfort her. Her hands beat as his face, nails scratching his skin.             The sound of their pursuers thundered in his ears, and in panic, he threw aside all silence and tact. Forcing himself past her, he reached and embraced all the branches in his arms, thorns piercing, and broke them with a heavy twist. A sharp ache bit through the bone of his left arm, reminding him of its past injury, and he swallowed back a curse. He grabbed the struggling girl and threw her over his shoulder even as the first hunter crested the ridge above them.             His eyes met that of the man’s, and a snarl burst from his chest. It was not the growl of a man but that of a beast, and it surprised even him. The man faltered, and Swiftwing took the moment to leap for the log on the other side. His free arm grasped it, and he flung himself and the girl over, hearing a spear thunk into the wood behind him.             The girl was still fighting, but she was small and he was strong, and he paid her little heed as he tore through the forest, the startled cries of monkeys and night birds hollering around and drowning out any sound of his passing.
            Sometime during their long and wild flight, the woman had stopped struggling. Swiftwing at last drew to a halt and stood still, sniffing the air and listening for any sound of pursuit. But all was still and silent once more, and he could hardly even feel the tension of the earth.             Sharp teeth snapped down on the flesh of his wrist, and he leapt in surprise, stifling a yell. The girl tumbled from his shoulder and flung herself around to face him, teeth still bared. And then she spoke.            “By the Song Giver of my sister and mother, you will not take me!”             Swiftwing stood stunned, his wounded hand limply falling from his embrace. He felt as if the entire world had gone mute around him in disbelief that a woman spoke. A wild thought flew across his mind that perhaps it was a trick or somehow a young boy disguising himself as a woman, but that voice was unlike any man’s he ever heard and it’s truth could not be denied.             “How…how do you speak this tongue?” he whispered.              She startled at his voice, and she seemed to peer at him through the darkness as if she had thought him someone else and only just recognized him as a stranger. “Do you not know?” she said, her voice rough and angry, yet somehow still the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. “After all this time, do you dare claim to be the only man of our land who does not know? Is this not why you were hunting me?”             Swiftwing shook his head. He disliked how she had to stare so high up at him and he lowered himself to the ground, holding her gaze as she watched his every move. “I have not lived amongst the tribes for a long while.”            Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?” she snapped. “Are you shamed?” Scarcely had the words left her mouth then she cowered. It was clear that she was still not used to speaking her mind.             Am I shamed? Swiftwing wondered. I wish I knew. He wanted there to be a reason he could understand for how everyone had treated him throughout his youth, and why they had all turned against him and sought to kill him that horrible night now long past.             “Where do you come from?”            “I will not tell you,” she whispered. “You’ll take me to those who hunt me.”            It struck him as strange that he accepted her voice so easily. Perhaps it was because he always had understood women’s language, and that one should now have a voice felt only right and wonderful. “I would not,” he assured. “They hunt me too.”             Her expression changed at that, and she peered even harder at his features, with now a thoughtful and saddening face. “Yes,” she said at last, “They would.”             Every muscle inside him jolted, even more than when she’d first spoke. What could she mean? What did she see so clearly about him that he couldn’t? “Why do you say that?” he demanded.             She shifted. “I am from Red Clay village.”             He scowled, irritated that she changed the subject, but her words he could not ignore. “That is on the other side of the South Land. Have you traveled so far alone?”            “I have been going from village to village,” she said. “Teaching.”            “Are you the only woman to speak?” He did not think she could have spoken since birth. Her voice and words were still so slurred as if unsure of how to form.             She shook her head. “No. The curse broke the night the Wolf Lord died. All women may speak now.”             The night the Wolf Lord died. The night the men drove him away. The night women spoke. Was there a connection somewhere that he could not imagine? There had to be. And she knew, she knew something. But he knew from looking at her wary face that he could not pry so far yet.             “Is that why they hunt you?” he prodded gently.             She was silent for a while, her eyes huge. “They are all afraid,” she whispered. “Man, woman, child, everyone. Their god is dead, and they are afraid of change, even if it is better. I speak to them of hope of life, and for that they would kill me. They call me She-Who-Speaks. But to their ears I speak nothing but horror.”
            Chapter 2
            Swiftwing woke to the trill of a morning thrush. Something so small and gentle should not have pulled him from sleep, so he stealthily sat up and looked for anything else that might have disturbed him.            The very first thing he noticed was that the girl was gone.            He’d taken her to the place he called home, a grassy corner tucked between rocks and behind thickets and told her to sleep there, while he had gone to the tree above and secured himself in the thick branches. Long through the night he’d heard her shifting and thought neither of them would find any sleep.            Apparently he had slept, and she had gone. But she couldn’t have been gone for too long, for the grass was still pressed flat where she’d lain.             He dropped down to the ground and spotted the path she had taken through the bushes, all the dew scattered from the leaves. He pushed through them and paused, inhaling to catch some scent of her. Yes, there she was, not very far away at all. She must have only recently left, which must have meant she had fallen asleep too as she would have rather gone before dawn had come.  He hurried after her trail, keeping a wary ear and eye open for any sign of danger, for the jungles of his land were perilous.             It did not take him long to catch her. He silently passed her hurrying figure and went to wait for her ahead.             When she saw him seated upon the tree fallen before her, her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Why do you follow me?” she demanded.            “It is not safe for a woman to travel alone,” he replied.            Her laugh was hollow and sad. “I have been alone for a long while now. Do not think this is my first time. I have traveled from village to village over and over to proclaim freedom to my people.” Avoiding his gaze, she climbed over the trunk and continued down the path.            He fell into step beside her, and he could nearly feel the walls fall into place between them. “Were you never not alone?”            At first, the only answer he received was the crunch of their footsteps on the ground and the swish of branches brushed away. “I had a dog,” she said finally. Her voice trembled, but she steadied it before continuing. “But she was old and she died after about a year of my travels. Yet she protected me to her last breath, and now I can take care of myself.”            Swiftwing thought back to last night and disagreed, but he did not say so aloud. He only just kept walking alongside her.            She cleared her throat. “Which means you can leave.”             He laughed deep inside himself, but did not allow it to show even in his eyes.             She ground to a halt and glared at him when he swung around to face her. “What about the men who hunt you? You will not keep following me!”            “How,” he asked softly, “are you going to make me stop?”            Fear leapt into her eyes at his response, and he inwardly cursed himself.             “I will do you no harm,” he hastily assured. “I only mean to see that you are kept safe.”            “Why?” she demanded, her teeth clenched. “Why?”            He considered for a long moment, sorting through the various reasons he felt his heart so drawn to her. She could see something about him that he couldn’t. She knew the truth about the women’s speaking, which meant she knew something about the Wolf Lord’s death. And…            At last, he said, “You remind me of my mother.”            She did not answer, she did not even blink; she only turned and walked away. But when he followed her again, she made no protest.
            It had been far too long since Swiftwing had seen a village. He was startled at how his stomach turned at the distant sight of the huts, the spiraling smoke of the fire, and the roving figures. Why, why, had they refused to let him be a part of their lives, to be equal amongst them?             He turned to see the woman staring at him with far too perceptive eyes. Swallowing hard, he looked away, hoping his skin had not turned so grey as it felt.            “You should remain in the trees,” she said.            “No, they may turn on you,” he began.            “I have been here before. They listen.” Her shoulders hunched as she spoke and her gaze darkened as she glanced again at the villages. “It will be better for both of us if you remain behind.”            There it was, that indication that she understood something more about him! He nearly leapt forward, caught her arm, and demanded to know the secret, but she was already striding through the trees. As he watched her go, he thought how no woman he’d ever seen had ever walked with such strength, no matter how forced.             He crept through the brush closer into the village so he could better watch and listen. By the time he’d drawn near enough, she was already in the village center, most of the people gathered around her. The expressions of the people were starkly contrasted, some showing uncertain hope and respect, but most of fear and anger.             “The tribes are sundered, She-Who-Speaks!” a man growled. “What peace we had under the Wolf Lord is now utterly gone! How can this Giver of Names you speak of be good?”            Agreeing murmurs chorused in response, but the girl shouted above them all. “Listen, listen to me again! The Wolf Lord had us all under slavery, woman and man. Yes, there is now fear, but there need not be. Listen, and let me tell you again. Our High Priest Wolf Tongue was not a god, but a monster come from the Grey Wood, and he was the Wolf Lord, turning from man to wolf at will! His hunger would have devoured us all in the end.”            Swiftwing hunkered lower still to the ground to muffle his gasp. What was this she spoke? He knew of Wolf Tongue and though he’d only ever seen him from afar, he knew he was a powerful and terrible man. But a monster possessed of such power? Impossible. Yet his skin crawled as he remembered the times he’d wandered too close to the Grey Wood and the mystery that had reached out to touch his heart with icy fingers.             The woman was still speaking. “But we were not forsaken. Have any of you never heard music in the night, have you not wondered at the beauty of the stars? Have you never wanted to be known by your true name? The Giver of Names delivered the chieftain’s eldest daughter from death and took her from this land. He gave the Silent Lady the power to speak, and she returned and brought about the Wolf Lord’s death. And now we are free, all of us free to speak, for yes, even you men were captive before, not daring to love.”            A heavy silence followed her words, a few growls and grunts rumbling under its surface.             Swiftwing lay paralyzed at this new revelation. A woman had killed the Wolf Lord? Whatever would this girl say next? Was she mad? Yet he could not deny how her words entranced him for many times he had wondered if he heard music in the sky, in the water, in the thrush’s song, and he wondered where that beauty came from, for the Wolf Lord knew only brutality, and beauty was to be taken, not cherished.             “Where is the Silent Lady now?” A man’s voice suddenly demanded.            “She has been called to other lands by the Song Giver,” the girl answered.            “Where is this Song Giver?” the man continued. “Where is any proof to what you say? The Wolf Lord is dead, and women speak, but how do we know you do not use this to take this world for your own? A silent woman thinking she can rule? Not over us!”            The girl paled as the man’s angry words spread throughout the crowd, and nearly all the gazes staring at her became hostile. “Please,” she began, her voice a tremor, “that is not my intent. Search your hearts, do you not hear the Song Giver’s—”            “Witch!” the man yelled. “Sorceress!”  He picked up a stone and heaved it at her.             The next moment, Swiftwing had risen to his feet and flown across the distance between them. He grabbed the man’s wrists before he could loose another stone and threw him to the ground.             The man hit the dust with a thud and a groan, and everyone near drew back and looked with shock and fear at Swiftwing.             But it was only with the fear that they might turn upon an enemy. He watched as it again transformed into the fear of a monster.            “Blight of our fathers!” the man wailed. He scrambled to his feet and backed into the safety of his fellows, but though his gaze did not leave Swiftwing, his words were for the woman. “You witch, you serve him! Is this another scheme of his to rule?”            Never had anyone accused Swiftwing of wanting to rule. Startled, he looked to She-Who-Speaks for an answer, and he was aghast to see that she gone pale grey. Her hands trembled, the fingers moving in strange jerks. And then he realized that she was speaking to him, speaking in the woman’s language.            Run, her fingers said. RUN.             Then the man drew a knife, and Swiftwing wheeled on his foot, grabbed the girl by her wrist, and ran. They raced back to the trees, the terror of the villagers rising into a raging roar as they came after. But as soon as he passed under the trees, Swiftwing knew that they would be safe. He pulled the girl closer to him, then scooped her up into his arms, despite her grunts of protest. Then he truly did run, and soon the village was far behind them.            The moment he began slowing pace, She-Who-Speaks began to squirm until he was obliged to stop and put her down.             “I told you not to come,” she snarled, flushed and panting. She scraped aside the hair that had caught in her mouth spoke again. “How could you go and show your face like that?”            Swiftwing took a hard, angry step forward. “Why?” he shouted. “What is wrong with my face, why does everyone fear it?”            The girl became very still. Her eyes stared past as him as if she saw some unknown horror. Then slowly she whispered, “You do not know?”            Frustration clotted in his throat, nearly making him choke. He had to swallow several times before he could speak, and then his voice scraped out in a rough murmur, “No. I do not know. No one has ever told me. Not my mother, not the men. You too feared me at first sight, but now you don’t. Why am I different from everyone?”            Unwillingly, her gaze lifted to his. “Did you not ever wonder why your eyes are yellow?”             “But it is only eye color,” he said desperately. “There are many people in the tribes whose eyes are different shades of brown. Why should pale eyes make me terrible? Because I am the only one?”             “Because you are not the only one,” she said, her lips wooden. “The only other man with yellow eyes in all the South Land was Wolf Tongue….the Wolf Lord.”
            Chapter 3
            The jungles of the South Land swept out like a blanket before him, appearing flat and unbroken, but he knew how many chasm s scored through the earth, splitting the land into pieces. The birds of early morning rose in glorious chorus from the trees and monkeys wailed their wild cries, all seeming determined to ignore the pain of their realm.             But Swiftwing sat blind and deaf to it all.            The Wolf Lord.             The terror, the ruler, the god of the land. Not even the elders could remember a time when he had not ruled. He was always there, always hungry, always devouring. So much blood had he drank, so much flesh had he claimed. A tyrant, a monster.             His father.            As a boy, he’d asked his mother why he didn’t have a father like other boys. The question had seemed to pain her, so he eventually stopped asking. But now he knew, and he also knew why his mother had refused to attend any of the ceremonies, why whenever rumor of the High Priest came, she had taken her child and they had traveled deeper into the forest.            Footsteps crunched beside him, and he looked up to see She-Who-Speaks standing next to him. Her face was drawn tight with uncertainty, but true sorrow shone in her eyes. “I am sorry,” she said at last.             Swiftwing looked back to the distant mountains, his arms wrapping tighter around his knees. “Why did she still love me?” he whispered. “Why did she not abandon me at birth?”             The girl sighed and slowly lowered herself down to sit beside him, joining his gaze to the horizon. “You might have been his, but you were also hers. And in that she found a gift.” Her voice shook as she spoke the last word. “I had a sister who loved me, but I could not understand why, for my birth had taken away her beloved mother. Yet she saw me as a gift and cherished me.”            After the silence grew uncomfortable, Swiftwing asked, “Where is this sister of yours?”            She-Who-Speaks wove her fingers together as if seeking a hand she could no longer touch. “She left. She went beyond this land.”            He thought perhaps she meant death, but then he remembered her words to the villagers. “Is your sister then the Silent Lady you spoke of?”            “Yes.”            His breath drew in sharp, and he swung to face her. “Then she killed the Wolf Lord! How? How did a maiden accomplish it?”            “I did not say she killed the Wolf Lord,” the girl replied, eyes kindling with annoyance. “I said she brought it about.”             He considered this in silence, wondering how this was done, but the girl no longer seemed inclined to share as she was turned away from him. She might have accepted him, but he could still feel her resentment. Resentment he deserved. He was the son of a monster. For that he deserved hate. Yet he did not feel hate from her, and it puzzled him.             A sweet silver trill danced through the morning stillness, bringing a brightness as real as the sun that surged life into both the figures and the earth upon which they sat. The girl straightened, her eyes searching hopefully.            “There,” Swiftwing said, pointing. “There he is.”             The wood thrush danced from branch to branch in a tree near them, flicking his tail and whistling cheerfully.            “You listen to the songbird?” the girl asked, and her surprised voice held none of the hostility always underlying her words before.             “Yes,” Swiftwing said, his mouth softening. “My mother always loved it. She named me for it. May you always pursue his swift wing, she’d tell me.”            He looked at her then, and his very breath was stolen at the sight. He had seen from the first that she was beautiful. But now he saw how truly beautiful she could be. The first golden glow of the sun caught in the stray strands of her thick dark hair, and her face was aglow with the same light, her wide eyes gleaming with gold stars. Most beautiful of all was the wondrous smile curving her lips.            “I was named for the songbird as well,” she said.            “She-Who-Speaks?” he said in bewilderment.            “No,” the girl said. “Fairbird. My name is Fairbird.”           
 
VOTING: If you would like to vote on this or any of the other fan fiction submissions, send me a list of your top three favorite POEMS and your top three favorite STORIES. (aestengl@gmail.com) Voting is for fans of the Goldstone Wood series only.

THE SOUND OF THRUSH SONG - Savannah P.

In the stillness of the silence In the darkness of the night There comes the sound of Thrush songIn the coldest depths of winter On the brightest summer day There comes the sound of Thrush song To lead you not astray
In the worry of this lifetime In the doubts that play their tuneThere comes the sound of Thrush songGlowing silver as Hymlume
In the midst of all the tragedyIn the middle of all the strife There comes the sound of Thrush song That promises new life 
So when you cannot find your path When in the dark you wander Wait to hear the soft Thrush song From across the Final Waters

 
VOTING: If you would like to vote on this or any of the other fan fiction submissions, send me a list of your top three favorite POEMS and your top three favorite STORIES. (aestengl@gmail.com) Voting is for fans of the Goldstone Wood series only.

Fan Fiction Contest - Launching Tomorrow!

Dear imps, tomorrow marks the commencement of the 2015 Fan Fiction Contest, and I am very excited to share these stories with all of you! A few quick notes before it begins:

1. This year, the voting is limited to fans only. You may invite family and friends to vote on these submissions IF THEY ARE FANS of the series themselves. (Otherwise, voting becomes unfairly skewed.)

2. We have TWO separate categories this year: prose and poetry. So when you vote, please send in your TOP THREE PICKS for prose as well as your TOP THREE PICKS for poetry. List them in order of preference. Your top pick in each category will receive 10 points, your second pick 5 points, and your third pick, 2 points. So think carefully!

3. Send votes to: aestengl@gmail.com. Please use the subject header "Fan Fiction Contest Votes"

Prize Journal Front Cover4. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Unless the author asks for a critique, please limit your remarks to encouraging notes, favorite lines, etc. This contest is all about the FUN and the IMAGINATION!

5. And, of course, this year we also have the category of MY PERSONAL FAVORITE. So I'll be going over these stories and poems carefully as I decide on that particular winner.

There are some fantastic submissions this year! I've read some of them already, and I know you'll be impressed. Be prepared . . . some of them are quite long, so be sure to make yourself a BIG mug of tea as you settle in for a read.

The winners will be announced September 13, and all three of them will receive a gorgeous, hardbound, Goldstone Wood journal with their story/poem title on the back. It's going to be a close contest, so best of luck to all of you participants! And happy reading to the readers . . .

September Show and Tell

Dear Five Magic Spindles competitors, I have an invitation for you! In honor of the upcoming halfway point for this years contest, I am going to host a little Show and Tell for anyone who wants to participate. Here are the details:

1. YOU get a chance to introduce your story and concept to our readers! Send in a working title and a 2-5 sentence "hook" for your story--an exciting teaser to whet our appetites. You may also send your opening line/opening paragraph if you feel like sharing a bit more! (If you are working on more than one story, feel free to send in the same information for every entry you are hoping to complete.)

2. Include a short author-bio for yourself and a link to your blog (if you have one). This will be a great way for folks to continue building up a supportive community around these contests.

3. If you have a cool image you feel goes well with your story--depicting a scene, setting, or character--feel free to send it along as well! Visuals are always fun.

4. Email all of this info to me (aestengl@gmail.com) with the subject line: "Magic Spindles Show and Tell." The deadline is September 14.

The post featuring all of your stories will be going live on September 16. It should be a lot of fun to get a taste of what all these talented authors are working on! I know I am personally looking forward to it.

Let me know if you have any questions at all! I will be watching for those emails.

Doings at Drakenheath

Okay, it's time to liven up this blog once more with a Doings at Drakenheath post! So here we are, folks, with this month's doings, and I hope you find them entertaining.

For starters, we've got the Fan Fiction Contest bearing down upon us . . .


The deadline for this contest is coming up VERY SOON NOW. August 28. So be certain to check out the rules once more if you are interested in participating. I know many of you have been hard at work on submissions this last month, and I've had quite a few come in for posting! So far we've received lot more poetry this year than we've seen in previous years, and fewer prose pieces . . . though the prose pieces that have come in have been fantastic. And some of them quite epic! One clocked in at 11,000 words, which I thought would be our longest . . . until another came in at 30,000 words! So those of you looking for some entertaining Goldstone Wood reading will have some short novel-length works to delve into this September.

Submissions are to be emailed to me (aestengl@gmail.com). Don't be shy! We're all very friendly around here, and your story will get lots of nice feedback from readers.

I cannot let a Doings at Drakenheath post go by without mentioning the Five Enchanted Roses launch . . .

Seriously, it still feels surreal to me that this event has come and gone. That this mountainous project is actually published and behind me! While I won't say that Five Enchanted Roses was more difficult than Five Glass Slippers, I will say that so far, each year I've been surprised by just how much work goes into these launches. Lots of little, last-minute, scrambling details. And lots of large, last-minute scrambling details as well! But the project is OUT, and readers are buying and enjoying the five stories by these five wonderful novelists, and I could not be better pleased. All five authors gave wonderful interviews here on my blog for the launch week, and four of the five undertook the craziness that is a Facebook Chat Party . . . and did absolutely awesome jobs!

Of course, the work goes on with this project as well as Five Glass Slippers as my team and I continue to study the market and research new ways to get our product out to more and more readers. Currently Five Enchanted Roses is being recorded for audiobook by brilliant narrator Becky Doughty at BraveHeart Audiobooks. I have only heard one short clip so far and . . . oh, my! It's so gorgeous! Becky really does stunning work with her audiobooks and is the perfect voice for these fairy tales. I had the fun of selecting the music to go with this particular audio production as well, and I can hardly wait to hear how it all sounds together! It'll be many months yet before we launch for all of you, but be on the look out! It's coming . . .


Oh, and can I just take a moment to mention a small landmark for Five Glass Slippers? It's not a terribly big deal, but I was pleased to see that our bestselling collection has officially reached 100 reviews on Amazon. While not enormous by any means, it is quite a satisfyingly round number to see up there on our Amazon page.

"Okay, okay," you're saying. "It's one thing to hear about the Rooglewood Press Doings--they're all well and good. But what are you actually writing these days?"

Well, as most of you know, I've had to take a step back from Poison Crown for the time being. While not my preference and not a decision I came by lightly, it's the right decision. We decided this about a month ago (within a day or two after posted my last Doings at Drakenheath post, actually), and the moment I finally come to terms with this new course of action, I immediately jumped into a new project . . . a project which I am going to refer to for the time being as:


That's right. The Ridiculously Huge Project is commenced. It's a brand new series set in a brand new world, not even remotely connected to Goldstone Wood. It's bold and different and, simultaneously, classic and familiar. And it's huge.

By huge I mean ambitious. Ambitious in the writing goals I am setting for myself, the amount of work I am trying to produce in given time restraints. After approximately a month of planning and world-building, I  dived into the first manuscript last Wednesday and have produced 20,000 words. Which is actually a little shy of what I was aiming for by this time, but I am going to scramble to catch up the rest of this week. The goal is to finish a rough draft in another two weeks then let it sit for a while as I move on to the second manuscript.

I'm not going to give away much about this project just yet, especially while it's still in such early stages. However, I've decided to give you a little glimpse into the development of these stories in each of my Doings posts . . . a little something to heighten your curiosity, hopefully . . .

So this month's glimpse of The Ridiculously Huge Project is a tidbit of research I sniffed around after a few weeks ago. I found myself looking into the history of the Christmas hymn, "Lo, How a Rose Ere Blooming." Many of you probably already knew this, but I did not realize that the original hymn was a German piece called "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen," and first appeared in the 16th century. The English translation with which I am familiar didn't appear until the late 1800s and wasn't the only translation. A woman named Catherine Winkworth translated the first two verses into English in her version, "The Spotless Rose," which I had never before heard. And it is absolutely beautiful! While the original German version is closer to the time period in which I am writing, I currently plan to use "The Spotless Rose" or a variation of that hymn as an ongoing plot thread in The Ridiculously Huge Project.

Of course, this is all still early stages and subject to change! Anything I tell you about this project over the next several months could very easily alter within a few days or weeks. But one way or the other, this gives you the first hint of the direction this project is leaning . . .

 Last time someone commented that I hadn't mentioned any of my beasties in the Doings at Drakenheath post! So I wanted to make certain I gave special attention to all the beloved fluffies this time. Here is a picture of Monster and Makoose, fondly known hereabouts as the Fluffy Brothers.

While not true littermates, these two are very sweetly bonded. We sort of adopted Makoose because Rohan saw his picture and went, "He's looks like a gray version of Monster!" and felt the need for a bookend-kitty. That's not the ONLY reason we adopted him, of course! He's also quite the lunatic, which is endearing. And when not undergoing a lunatic spell, he can be sweet as pie.

Most of our kitties don't care for each other, so we were quite delighted when the Fluffy Brothers bonded. It allows for lots of photogenic moments like what you see above.

A rare moment of peace! These three usually spat something awful, so Rohan was quick to document this rare sighting of calm circular-sleeping. Don't they look adorable? Left to right, that's Magrat, Makoose, and Marmaduke.
 
I believe I have mentioned that Makoose and Milly have a bit of a Romeo and Juliet affair going on. They are completely in love with one another and won't let any star-crossed species differentiation get in the way of their passion. Here you see them curled up on the rug by our back door. Right before we took this picture, he was grooming her shoulder and face

Here's another angle on their romance.


Milly doesn't care for the other kitties at all. But she wuves her Makoosie-Moosie!

And here's a completely dignified picture of Marmaduke and the Evil One.

These two, while not exactly friends, are pretty good frenemies. They will often share a sunlit patch together. It will inevitably turn into a brawl, which both of them seem to enjoy tremendously. But for long stretches, there can be peace . . .

Yesterday, Minerva--my beloved Evil One--leaped into the water bowl. I mean, all four paws, KER-SPLASH, water flying everywhere. It's a pretty big water bowl, and she enjoys sitting by it for long periods at a time, staring at the ripples and occasionally batting it with her paw to make it move. (She also likes to dip her paw in the water then pat the wall so that she can chase the water droplets running down). I have never before seen her go four-feet-in, however. She seemed quite pleased with herself and traipsed about the house with little wet paw-prints until I caught her and wiped her down with a towel. To this she protested with loud squawkings. O! The indignity! Such a wretched Anne Elisabeth!

Sadly I have no new pictures of Mutti-Bear for you. She's actually quite frightened of the camera, so it's tough to snap a picture of her. But rest assured, she is doing well! Ever since her mouth surgery, she has been my sweetest little lap-baby, always ready for a cuddle session. She also likes to play headrest on the back of the couch for either me or Rohan. If we're sitting watching a movie, she'll pick one or the other of us to lie behind, her front paws on one shoulder, her back paws on the other. Technically her body is still on the back of the couch, but she turns herself into one of those wrap-around airline pillows. Such a sweet girlie-cat! We adore her and her fluffiness and her toothless gnawings on our fingers.

And, of course, I can't let a Doings post go by without at least mentioning the Five Magic Spindles contest.

All is still pretty quiet here as far as the contest is concerned. Submission forms keep trickling in, and I keep hearing whispers and rumors of stories in the works. I am thinking about hosting a little Show-and-Tell here on my blog in mid-September, inviting participating authors to send in 2-5 sentence summaries and working titles of their "Sleeping Beauty" stories in progress. Do you think YOU might like to participate in something like that? If I get enough interest in the comments, I'll go ahead and launch it . . .

Other than that, the Doings are pretty quiet this month. I am enjoying an opportunity to focus almost exclusively on my own writing. And while it's strange to be writing something other than Goldstone Wood, I have to say, it's been awesome to stretch my imagination in new and fascinating directions.

How about YOU? What have your Doings been this last month? I'm sure many of you are gearing up for school again or have already begun. Some of the rest of you are working hard at jobs and projects and just daily life. Do tell! Particularly if you're working on any cool creative projects . . .

Update on Poison Crown and Writing Projects

Okay, this is a post I have been not wanting to write. But my online silence has started to get noticed, and in light of the sweet emails and messages from various Imps making certain I'm alive, I've realized I really do need to give all of you an update and offer an explanation for why all has been quiet in Goldstone Wood this last many weeks.

So here goes: Due to some business-related happenings that I am not going to go into in detail, I have come to a bit of a mini-crisis point in my career that necessitates setting aside Poison Crown for the time being.

I know I mentioned something about this in a June post, so this won't come as a complete surprise to those of you who have been following along. At the time of that post, I was still thinking I would be finishing Poison Crown in the near future and publishing it by next year. However, things have changed since then, and that 2016 projection is no longer looking remotely feasible. In fact, I don't know when Poison Crown will be releasing now. I would like to think 2017, but there are factors beyond my control at play.

Here are a couple of points for you to satisfy curiosity:

1. No, this does not have anything to do with whether or not I am allowed to publish more Goldstone Wood books. Golden Daughter, Goddess Tithe, and Draven's Light are all perfectly legal and permissible. This setback is related to a different side of this business, pertaining to income, not legality.

2. Poison Crown--volumes 1 and 2--WILL BE published eventually. They are the next books in the Goldstone Wood series. Before any more Goldstone Wood books release, Poison Crown will release.

I had mentioned quite a while back that Poison Crown would be the last book in the series for a little while as I take a break. This is still true. It's just the timing that has changed. At this point, I am anticipating (hoping!) that Poison Crown will come out right in the middle of that "break" period. So maybe it'll end up being a good thing . . . You readers won't have as big of a gap between Goldstone Wood novels this way . . .

Needless to say, none of this was my preference. After five years of at least one Goldstone Wood novel coming out each year, I cannot tell you how strange it is to look ahead and not know when the next one is releasing. The closest thing I can compare it to is a bad breakup. You know . . . after you've spent months or years dating one person, planning your life with that person in mind, spending all your time with that person . . . and then suddenly, that person is out of your life. And you're left to pick up the pieces, trying to figure out what you have left.

Not that I'm breaking up with Goldstone Wood. We'll get back together someday! (Oh, dear. Does that sound like the desperate, dumped girlfriend? "Goldstone Wood doesn't DESERVE me! Goldstone Wood was just intimidated by me! Just watch, Goldstone Wood, I'm going to find a series that APPRECIATES me!")

But in all seriousness, this has been tough. It's been a difficult adjustment period, first coming to the realization that this is how it has to be then actually following through. I absolutely hate leaving a project half-finished--both the series and the current manuscript itself. For a while I was determined to complete the writing on Poison Crown before moving on. This I cannot do, however. This isn't my hobby . . . this is my job, and I have to make smart decisions for my writing. I cannot afford to finish Poison Crown at this point and time.

So there it sits in my computer. Waiting. Along with all those characters whom I love so much: Eanrin, Rose Red, Lionheart, Imraldera, Daylily, Foxbrush, Una, Vahe, Felix, Bebo, Iubdan, Hri Sora, Lumé and Hymlumé, Mouse, Sunan, Munny, Leta, Akilun, Etanun, Alistair, the Chronicler, Draven, Itala, Sairu . . . not to mention the characters in Poison Crown, whom you've not had a chance to get to know . . . Raulf, Tacita, Rogan, Megaren, Dian, Ileria . . . All of these characters mean so much to me and have been such vivid parts of my life for so long. Many and most of them haven't finished telling their stories. Setting them aside for an indeterminate period of time is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Thus my silence over the last several weeks.

However, I am currently pouring myself into a new project. And once I get over the bizarre feelings of guilt over Goldstone Wood (how can I be unfaithful to my true love???), I find I am rather excited about working on something a little different for the time being. I won't say too much about this new project just now, but I'm pretty confident that it's going to turn into something fantastic. After the last few weeks of world-building, character exploration, and outlining, I sat down to write chapter 1 just yesterday, uncertain how it would turn out . . . and ended up writing over 7,000 words. Which is an awesome day of writing for me. My goal is to finish the rough draft of the first book in this project in maybe a little over two weeks. Which is ambitious, yes, but I need a distraction right now anyway.

Besides . . . FLEXIBILITY IS THE KEY TO STRATEGIC AIR POWER!

So I'm being flexible.
 
Wish me luck as I pursue this new venture. I definitely covet your prayers right now . . .

Prize Bundle Giveaway Winner -- FIVE ENCHANTED ROSES

All right, dear readers, the winner of the EPIC prize bundle for Five Enchanted Roses has been selected out of all the many, many, many names submitted. This lucky winner will receive a gorgeous print copy of Five Enchanted Roses along with a beautiful pearl and rose necklace, a leather "book of omens" journal, a lovely hair clip, a pressed-rose bookmark, and a cool pair of jaguar sunglasses!

And that winner is . . . .

CHRISTINE SMITH
Congratulations on your win, Christine! I hope you will enjoy our prize bundle. Please send your mailing address to David Cross (david.cross@rooglewoodpress.com)  so that we can get your prizes in the mail right away.

Enormous thanks to all of you who participated in this giveaway and in celebrating the launch of this wonderful collection. You made our talented authors feel loved and appreciated as they take this enormous stride in their publishing careers. The kind support and sweetness offered by all of you (not to mention your enthusiasm over the stories themselves) is what makes this business worthwhile!

Now onward and upward with the Five Magic Spindles contest. After all, one of YOU might be a featured author this time next year!

Launch Week - Five Enchanted Roses

And today marks the final day of our week-long celebration of Five Enchanted Roses and the five amazing authors whose work made this collection possible. Hayden Wand, the talented young mind behind, "The Wulver's Rose," brings you a vlog version of her answers to the interview questions. I hope you will enjoy this glimpse into her mind and heart!
But first, here's a little more about her story:

INTRODUCINGHAYDEN WAND

________________________________________
   HAYDEN WAND is a Christian and a homeschool graduate who has loved the classic story of Beauty and the Beast since the age of three, when she saw the Disney movie for the first time. When she’s not writing, reading, or bribing her siblings to read the classics, you can find her baking, crafting, practicing her archery skills, or watching her favorite shows on the BBC. She lives in South Carolina with her parents and four energetic younger siblings.
 GIVEAWAY!
In honor of this exciting release, the authors of Five Enchanted Roses have teamed up with Rooglewood Press to offer an exciting Giveaway Bundle for one lucky winner! Included in the bundle will be:
1 print copy of Five Enchanted Roses 1 "Book of Omens" red leather journal from Kaycee Browning1 Lilla Rose cameo hair clip from Savannah Jezowski1 pressed rose bookmark from Jenelle Schmidt1 pair of jaguar sunglasses from Dorian Tsukioka1 gorgeous rose and pearl necklace
If you would like to enter your name for a chance to win this awesome bundle, here's what you do:
 Share any of the following images (or any of the images from the previous posts in our Launch Week Celebration) on your social media sites -- Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, blogs, etc.
For every image that you share, copy a link and compile all your links into a list. Send your link list in an email to David Cross (david.cross@rooglewoodpress.com) using the subject header: "Five Enchanted Roses Giveaway." Be sure to send him your links NO LATER THAN MONDAY, AUGUST 3. The winner will be selected later that week.

You may also gain one free entry by leaving a comment for Hayden down below, congratulating her on her new story or asking her a question about "The Wulver's Rose."
 Have fun spreading the news about this awesome new collection from Rooglewood Press!


  


___________________________
Are you an aspiring author? Would you like to see your work featured in the next fairy tale collection from Rooglewood Press? Then don't miss your chance to enter the contest for Five Magic Spindles, currently in progress!

We look forward to reading YOUR stories . . .

Launch Week - Five Enchanted Roses

 
And here we are, day four of our Launch Week celebration! Today I have the pleasure of hosting the author of "Rosara and the Jungle King," amazing talent, Dorian Tsukioka. Dorian has already published two other fairy tale retellings (including another version of "Beauty and the Beast," believe it or not!), proving her boundless imagination several times over! And her story in this collection is quite possibly her most beautiful, vivid, exciting adventure yet . . .

 
INTRODUCINGDORIAN TSUKIOKA
 How did you find out about the Five Enchanted Roses contest? 
Dorian Tsukioka: A friend of mine (who also introduced me to Anne Elisabeth’s books) told me that Anne Elisabeth was hosting a writing contest for a retelling of Cinderella in 2013. I loved writing, but rarely finished anything. I decided to give it a try, and by golly, I finished my retelling of Cinderella and submitted it to the contest. 
 
Alas, I did not win that contest.

However, undaunted, I eagerly anticipated the next year’s contest, and in the summer of 2014, my friend informed me again of another fairy tale retelling contest, this time for Beauty and the Beast. I was so eager to try my hand that I wrote two stories!





Did your story idea spring immediately to mind or did you have to work to find it?
Dorian Tsukioka: I always have a seed of an idea in my head. But, the idea is never a complete story. For example, in "Rosara and the Jungle King," my initial idea was “what if the girl was actually the beast?”That kernel of an idea sprouted very quickly, but I had to work very hard on the actual plot. I asked myself all sorts of questions like “What kind of beast would she be?”“Where would the story take place?” “Why is she a beast?”. Answering those questions lead me to creating a loose outline and then I was able to start writing the story.
What makes this retelling of the classic tale uniquely special to you?  
Dorian's Inspiration for her heroine, Rosara. Dorian Tsukioka: When I was brainstorming the idea for "Rosara," I knew I wanted to set the story in a very special and specific location. For some unknown reason, the Amazon rainforest came to mind. In college, I had studied about an indigenous Amazonian tribe called the Yanomami. All of this came back to me in a rush, and I knew I needed to set my story there. What if my Beauty was one of the Yanomami? What might that be like for her? This specific tribe provided a lot of inspiration for the tribe I created. The rainforest provided many different natural and supernatural beasts as well as a lovely, if dangerous, setting in which the story could unfold.
Here’s a brief video that depicts some of the Yanomami people’s lives. (Note: It includes indigenous nudity.)  

If you had to pick a favorite fairy tale, which would it be and why?
Dorian Tsukioka: My favorite fairy tale from childhood was always Hansel and Gretyl.  It scared the pee out of me as a kid, and I loved it for that. I also loved the house made out of candy. If that was me out in the middle of the forest, I would have been a goner, too.
However, my favorite fairy tale retelling is the recent movie by Disney, Malificent.  I LOVED the story so much. Maleficent has always been my favorite Disney fairy tale villain, and I was so glad that she achieved some sort of redemption in the most recent retelling.  

Keeping in mind the many themes of the classic fairy tale, have you ever experienced a "Beauty and the Beast" moment in your life?
Dorian Tsukioka: One of the most obvious themes in Beauty and the Beast is “don’t judge a book by its cover.” This is the story of my life. Not only regarding me, but also all the people that I meet. I try to keep in mind that although I can only a person’s exterior, inside of them resides a divine spark — you just have to look hard enough to see it.
Another theme that I love in this story is about grace and love. Just like the beast, many of can be unlovable for a myriad of reasons. However, love is a choice. If we choose to love someone in spite of their unlovable state, we’re just like Beauty who falls in love with the Beast. By choice, we see beyond the exterior to love what’s inside, regardless of their beastly, unlovable nature. This is grace.
Sorry to get all philosophical, but these themes of grace, love, and seeing beyond the exterior to the diamond in the rough, is something I experience daily. I’m the recipient of grace because I’m often very unlovable and beastly.  _________________
DORIAN TSUKIOKA writes fairy tale retellings, young adult fantasy, and science fiction wtih just a dash of romance thrown in. When she's not writing, Dorian teaches 5th graders in Kansas City, MO, or she can be found chasing after her two, pixie-esque daughters. She has a love of learning and teaching, and loves to talk about books with anyone who will listen, especially if the conversation includes cinnamon-chip scones and caramel lattes.
 GIVEAWAY!
  In honor of this exciting release, the authors of Five Enchanted Roses have teamed up with Rooglewood Press to offer an exciting Giveaway Bundle for one lucky winner! Included in the bundle will be:

1 print copy of Five Enchanted Roses 1 "Book of Omens" red leather journal from Kaycee Browning
1 Lilla Rose cameo hair clip from Savannah Jezowski1 pressed rose bookmark from Jenelle Schmidt1 pair of jaguar sunglasses from Dorian Tsukioka1 gorgeous rose and pearl necklace


 Share any of the following images (or any of the images from our Launch Week Celebration) on your social media sites -- Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, blogs, etc.
For every image that you share, copy a link and compile all your links into a list. Send your link list in an email to David Cross (david.cross@rooglewoodpress.com) using the subject header: "Five Enchanted Roses Giveaway." Be sure to send him your links NO LATER THAN MONDAY, AUGUST 3. The winner will be selected later that week.

You may also gain one free entry by leaving a comment for Dorian down below, congratulating her on her new story or asking her a question about "Rosara and the Jungle King."
Have fun spreading the news about this awesome new collection from Rooglewood Press!




 __________________
Don't forget to purchase your copy of Five Enchanted Roses today! Add the book to your Goodreads shelves and let your reader friends know how much you enjoy these beautiful tales.

Launch Week - Five Enchanted Roses

Welcome back to our week-long celebration of Five Enchanted Roses and the amazing authors who made this collection worthwhile. Today we are featuring Jenelle Schmidt, whose clever story, "Stone Curse," is delighting readers with its unexpected plot twists and endearing characters . . .


INTRODUCINGJENELLE SCHMIDT

How did you find out about the Five Enchanted Roses contest?   Jenelle Schmidt: I found out about the Five Enchanted Roses contest because I was waiting anxiously for the announcement. In 2013, I had posted a short snippet of a fairy tale retelling I was sort of playing around with for “The Princess and the Glass Hill.” Anne Elisabeth emailed me and asked if I had ever thought of doing other retellings and informed me of the contest Rooglewood was hosting for a Cinderella retelling. I submitted a story for that and - even though I didn’t win - really enjoyed working on a shorter project and being able to finish a rough draft in less than a month.
When Rooglewood Pressannounced the following year that the fairy tale would be "Beauty and the Beast," I had already decided I wasn’t going to enter. I didn’t think I had time. However, my imagination had other ideas and the glimmering of a plot began to smolder in the corner of my mind. Eventually, the plot and characters began to clamor for more attention, and I realized that I was going to enter the contest after all.

 Did your story idea spring immediately to mind or did you have to work to find the right tale to tell?
Jenelle Schmidt: The basic gist of the story came together pretty quickly and all at once. I wanted it to be pretty different from the original, while still having a lot of familiar settings and themes. I wrote the first two scenes in rapid succession, conquering over 2,000 words in an afternoon. 

After that, everything came to a screeching halt. Who had cast the curse on the prince? And why had they done it? And how could it be broken? Without knowing those things, the story could not progress, and I was stumped for weeks. I would sit down to write and absolutely nothing would happen. I would write a scene to take the story in one direction and then give up after a few hundred words, aware that what I had written was all wrong and could not work. I was starting to get desperate, and beginning to think I wouldn’t finish this story in time.

Finally, my husband (my knight in shining armor!) came to my rescue. We had already discussed the story a few times, but now he sat down with me and we spent a few evenings just talking about the story and wrestling with the outline and plot. He kept asking me, "Why? Why was the curse cast? Who cast the curse? How will the curse be broken?" It was that last question that finally unlocked the door to the way the story had to play out. And once Derek suggested the character of Ritter, the rest of the outline fell into place and the story began to take shape. It wasn't always perfectly smooth sailing from there on out, but I didn't run into any more brick walls.

What makes this retelling of the classic tale uniquely special to you?
Jenelle Schmidt: There are a myriad of reasons this story is special to me. First is the character of Karyna. I struggled with her a lot and had a hard time getting her just right. I had to do a lot of character development for her during the edits, trying to figure out what motivated her, why she thought and felt and acted the way she did. The breakthrough came when I realized that she shared a personality type with my sister-in-law, whom I love, but who is also very different than me. Once I could “see” Karyna, she began to grow into a more well-developed person, and I was able to write her much more clearly.
Another thing was that I just really enjoyed getting to write a completely different version of "Beauty and the Beast." I liked “fixing” some of the plot holes that are inherent to the Disney version (for example, if you do a little math, you realize that in the Disney cartoon, the prince is cursed at the age of eleven for not letting a creepy old woman into his house on a dark and stormy night - a decision I always thought his parents would have applauded). I also had a lot of fun adding my twists; I got to “break the rules” of the story while still holding true to the idea and themes of the original.
And finally, this story is dear to my heart because I wrote it for my children. I have three precious kiddos, two of whom are beautiful little girls who love fairy tales and dressing up and pretending to be princesses. (The youngest is still a baby, so he’s not much into stories or games of imagination . . . yet!) But I am excited to share this story with all three of them, and I hope they enjoy it. I hope it inspires them. Because while many of my readers may envision my life as this glamorous series of author photo shoots, sitting in my writing cave furiously typing away, or receiving boxes of books on a daily basis... the reality is that I am a mom first, author second. My life is mostly full of listening to the thoughts and dreams of two little girls, looking at interesting leaves with a magnifying glass, exploring the back yard, building fairy gardens, learning letters, rocking, cuddling, teaching, and playing. Writing is what I do when all the children are sleeping. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. The writing is hard to get done with three little munchkins running around, but without them, I know I wouldn’t write nearly as much.

If you had to pick a favorite fairy tale, which would it be and why?
Jenelle Schmidt: I love fairy tales. My grandpa gave me a book of the more obscure ones when I was five or six, and I just fell in love with them. I never really thought about which fairy tale was my favorite, though there were several I would read over and over again. "The Twelve Dancing Princesses," "The Goose Girl," "The Snow Queen," "Rapunzel," and "The Princess on the Glass Hill." I tended to lean towards the stories that were a bit more obscure - though I also loved the more familiar tales: "Beauty and the Beast," "Cinderella," and "Sleeping Beauty."
Still enjoying the book of fairy tales my grandfather gave me!I’d say that if I absolutely had to choose, though, I’d go with the "Twelve Dancing Princesses." Something about that story always intrigued me. I enjoyed the mystery of it, the open-ended nature (which allows for quite the variety of retellings), the magical realm that the princesses venture out to every night. It was my love of adventure which first drew me to this story and captured my heart. 
When I was little, my cousins were my best friends, and whenever we had sleep-overs at their house we would determine to stay up until all our parents were asleep and then slip out of the house to have an “adventure.” They lived on a very large piece of land, with a creek running through the middle of it. It was the perfect place to have large games of Capture the Flag. Most nights, we fell asleep before we got to go adventuring, but once in a while we would manage to stay awake. Our adventures never took us to magical realms, but our imaginations definitely did. 
Even as an adult, I still enjoy a good adventure. My early love of fairy tales turned easily into a love of fantasy and science fiction. Those genres are replete with daring exploits and thrilling escapades. It can be hard to experience those things in the midst of every day life, especially when you’ve got three very small children to keep track of. Most of the time, I am content to enjoy that sort of excitement through reading books and watching movies. However, every now and then I do get a chance to experience a bit of that adventure my soul longs for.

Keeping in mind the many themes of the classic fairy tale, have you ever experienced a "Beauty and the Beast" moment in your life?
Jenelle Schmidt: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8. One of the reasons I love the story of Beauty and the Beast is the number of Biblical themes running through it. Beauty’s father, for example, has always seemed to me to be a type of Job character - through no fault of his own, he loses everything. Then there is the sacrificial love displayed by both the father and Beauty, each willing to die in the other’s stead. And finally, there is the Beast, who must be loved before he appears lovable in order for the curse to be broken.
We are all, at some point, like the Beast. Unlovable and incapable of love. Like the Beast, we wear a curse, and we cannot free ourselves from it. Just like Beauty must love the Beast while he is still under the curse, while he is still ugly and scary, Christ loved us while we were still sinners. In the midst of our rebellion, he died for us - and His love is the only thing that can break the curse of sin.
I would have to say that the most profound “Beauty and the Beast” moment in my life came on the day I realized and understood that I could not climb up to Jesus on my own. That I was under a curse, and I could not lift it on my own. On that day, I accepted the gift of Jesus’ love for me, despite my beastliness. And it was on that day that I, like the Beast of the fairy tale, began to be transformed into something beautiful.
___________________ 
 
 JENELLE SCHDMIT grew up in the northern-midwest. She now resides with her husband and their three adorable children in North Carolina where the summers are too hot and there is never enough snow. Jenelle fell in love with reading at a young age during family storytimes. To this day she enjoys creating exciting adventure tales filled with poignant themes and compelling characters in the fantasy and sci-fi genres.  



GIVEAWAY!

 In honor of this exciting release, the authors of Five Enchanted Roses have teamed up with Rooglewood Press to offer an exciting Giveaway Bundle for one lucky winner! Included in the bundle will be:
1 print copy of Five Enchanted Roses
1 "Book of Omens" red leather journal from Kaycee Browning1 Lilla Rose cameo hair clip from Savannah Jezowski1 pressed rose bookmark from Jenelle Schmidt1 pair of jaguar sunglasses from Dorian Tsukioka1 gorgeous rose and pearl necklace
If you would like to enter your name for a chance to win this awesome bundle, here's what you do:
 Share any of the following images (or any of the images from our Launch Week Celebration) on your social media sites -- Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, blogs, etc.
For every image that you share, copy a link and compile all your links into a list. Send your link list in an email to David Cross (david.cross@rooglewoodpress.com) using the subject header: "Five Enchanted Roses Giveaway." Be sure to send him your links NO LATER THAN MONDAY, AUGUST 3. The winner will be selected later that week.

You may also gain one free entry by leaving a comment for Jenelle down below, congratulating her on her new story or asking her a question about "Stone Curse."
  Have fun spreading the news about this awesome new collection from Rooglewood Press!
 




  __________________
Don't forget to purchase your copy of Five Enchanted Roses today! Add the book to your Goodreads shelves and let your reader friends know how much you enjoy these beautiful tales.