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"Wait," Haven said, "does that mean we have to move?"

"Of course it does Haven, don't be so dense," Aspen replied harshly

"Do not speak to your sister that way Aspen." Archer's tone was fatherly and loving, but firm.

"Well everyone is saying it aren’t they? Autumn is dying and we don't have the money because the harvest failed this year.”

"Aspen!" Marigold exclaimed. “Please stop, you’re not helping.” Aspen huffed out a groan, slung his chair back from the dinner table and stomped upstairs.

Haven...

I stuck my hand in my pocket, running my thumb across the coarse paper of the Letter. The most important Letter I had ever received.

I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at it. Was it possible to get this framed? It was already starting to show signs of wear. After all, I had read it at least hundreds of times in the past day.

I unfolded it and read it. Again.

-Headmaster Stephen Cunningham

-3958 West Magick Lane

Dear John Smyth,

I’m sure you’re very excited. This is fine. We like excited...

We met on social media in the modern world, half a nation apart, but we connected over the rolling hills of Ireland’s mysterious history. Angela Hughes is a Historical and Paranormal Fantasy author with a gift for blending ancient myth, history, and faith into her stories.

When I found out St. Patrick was one of her favorite historical figures and she is a plotter (a writer who outlines the plot before writing the book), I had to get to know her more. It’s not every day you find these things...

Arien blinked.

That wasn’t a particularly odd thing to do, if you’re a human being that is. Rather, it was what Arien saw after blinking that he found to be odd.

An empty hallway, lockers lining the walls and bland, colorless lights hanging above reflecting dimly on polished tiled flooring. Despite their harsh brightness, they seemed to cast shadows in odd places - somehow too bright and too dim at the same time.

But this place wasn’t strange. In fact, Arien knew exactly where he was. This was...

We jostled and rattled in the car barreling down the dirt road leaving a tail of tan-red dust floating in the air like fog behind us. My guide tapped me diverting my attention from the passing Savannah to the road up ahead, the rendezvous point with my contact. On the horizon, getting closer by the second, was a woman standing in an old Land Rover, waving.

My guide idled the car long enough for me to collect my luggage before tearing off again. The woman in the Land Rover jumped down and stuck...

“All great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.”

-William Bradford

Fall is in full swing, Thanksgiving is upon us, and it’s almost cold enough to unfold our sweaters, sip a hot pumpkin spice latte, and curl up by the fireside with a great book. For me, that book is Plymouth Plantation by William Bradford. If you haven’t read it yet, you can find a free audio version here.

Bravery and Faith

The whole book...

“That’s it?” My main character says, looking over my shoulder. “I’m funny that way? That’s all I’m gonna say?”

I pause typing, thinking.

“It does feel a bit forced. Do you have a better idea?” I ask him.

“Of course I do.” He grins.

“I’m all ears.” My fingers rest on the keys ready to type as inspiration for the scene builds.

“Let’s add some tension. She just rejected me, but she still has feelings for me. But I don’t know that yet.”

“Oh, oh!” I bounce in my seat, giddy as the scene becomes...

A friend once asked if it’s true that writing is a lonely job. I was brand new to novel writing, so at that point in my journey, yes, it was lonely. However, if I knew then what I know now, I would have said, “No. Writers need people.”

One Small Piece

The statement of “writing is a lonely job” is rather common, however, I believe it’s a myth. Someone might argue that it helps when actively writing to be in a quiet room alone with your thoughts. I can agree to that, except the fun creative...