What words may come... |
You’ve heard the story before: an orphaned boy, raised by a wise old man, comes to a fuller knowledge of his magic and uses it to fight the great evil threatening his world. But what if that hero were destined to become the new dark lord?
In the beginning, Annev doesn’t realize he is being sought out by wicked gods who only want to use him for his unbelievable magic abilities. As a baby, Annev was orphaned by the academy’s hands and eventually taken in by his pseudo father and mentor Sodar, where he attends that very same academy, Chaenbalu. Here, he is brought up to believe that all magic and its users are inherently evil. Chaenbalu trains its students to detect and retrieve very dangerous magic artifacts and at whatever cost necessary. In his training to become an Avatar of Judgement, Annev is pitted against the other students along with his friends in hopes of being able to leave the academy. If he fails, he will never leave Chaenbalu again and never be able to marry the one he loves, Myjun.
“There are worse ways to die than blood loss and blackthorns.” The pacing of Master of Sorrows grows from start to finish and becomes incredibly intense as Annev is faced with those who hunt him and the possibilities of his powers. The confrontation and revelations acquiesce and roll into a spectacular ending that will have you clamoring for the next book. The Academy of Chaenbalu has stood against magic for centuries. Hidden from the world, acting from the shadows, it trains its students to detect and retrieve magic artifacts, which it jealously guards from the misuse of others. Because magic is dangerous: something that heals can also harm, and a power that aids one person may destroy another. A.S. HardinBuilder of worlds, creator of people, aspiring author or more realistically an avid reader and skilled procrastinator. From sci-fi to horror, I've explored it all. As of late, I find myself diving into the depths of rare and out-of-print sci-fi and fantasy. Join me on this literary journey!
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When both groups arrive at the outpost, they find that it is already taken by a faction of dark elves called the Moredhel. Through a tentative agreement both forces work together to avoid thier own annihilation and temporarily band together to defeat thier common enemy. “A shrieking battle cry echoed on the wind, a spine-tingling scream that sounded like the baying of the wolves closing in on their prey.”Honored Enemy is a fantastic military fantasy with Feist and Forstchen setting you right into battle and right behind enemy lines in a world rich with danger, culturally unique races, and underlying family and political conflicts. The world is vast and expansive, even if this particular novel focuses less on the overarching riftwar and more on character relationships and the struggle of friendship through adversity. Can one truly trust their enemy when both need each other to survive? “Old enemies must be friends when a greater evil looms.”Feist’s and Forstchen's attempt to bring the characters to life through cultural differences is nothing short of brilliant and he does so with humor, sadness, and incredibly tense moments. Many instances brought me to tears and many made me laugh. If you are looking for an exciting, battle-heavy fantasy with lots of character-driven actions and personal depth all done with intensity and humor, then Honored Enemy is a must read. “Now go. An actor should know when to leave the stage, a poet when the lay is finished, and a bard when it is time to put aside the lute.”In the frozen Northlands of Midkemia, Captain Dennis Hartraft’s Marauders have just had a disastrous encounter with their sworn enemy, the Tsurani. Wounded and disheartened, the Mauraders set out for the shelter of a frontier garrison. They don’t know that a Tsurani patrol is sent to support an assault on that same garrison. Arriving simultaneously, the Marauders and Tsurani find the outpost already overrun by a dark enemy whose ferocity is legendary in Midkemia. In order to survive, the foes must band together and fight as one. As they make their way across the inhospitable climate, the two batallions struggle not only with the elements and their enemy, but also their consciences. Can their hatred for their mutual enemy overcome their distrust of each other? And, with both sides carrying painful scars from past wars, what is more important: one’s life or one’s honor? A.S. Hardin Builder of worlds, creator of people, aspiring author or more realistically an avid reader and skilled procrastinator. From sci-fi to horror, I've explored it all. As of late, I find myself diving into the depths of rare and out-of-print sci-fi and fantasy. Join me on this literary journey!
It appears that Moderator X had direct and unchecked access to the teens of this program as it was never regulated by any other adults. The teens themselves took to their own website to discuss the abuse and eventually eleven other NaNoWriMo users informed the staff at headquarters. This happened back in May 2023. Headquarters simply denied the allegations even though there was sufficient documentation and some members have reported that any discussion on the topic led to their being silenced, deleted, and essentially shadow banned for months. When the board of directors stepped in on November 7th, they reviewed a four-page document noting that Moderator X had “already been identified as problematic” which also outlined earlier concerns about Moderator X. It is unknown how long the staff has known of Moderator X’s misconduct. Despite the staff being knowledgeable of this behavior, Moderator X was not removed, no safety measures were put in place, and their behavior on forums began to deteriorate during the following weeks. It wasn’t until six weeks later that the moderator was removed for unrelated violations. After this time, Moderator X used various alternates to continue to communicate with the teens of the Young Writers Program. While there has been some language from the board of directors that give us pause, it should be understood that the board members are not paid for their work. They are regular Joes just like most of us who have our own hobbies, jobs, and families. And while a call for the dismissal of any staff involved has been voiced the board must adhere to US labor laws. I do hope that over the coming months we receive honesty, transparency, and action from the organization that many of us have held dear. Without this institution, many novels would have gone unwritten, and many friendships would never have been forged. You can check out the statement issued by the board of the directors HERE. A.S. HardinBuilder of worlds, creator of people, aspiring author or more realistically an avid reader and skilled procrastinator. From sci-fi to horror, I've explored it all. As of late, I find myself diving into the depths of rare and out-of-print sci-fi and fantasy. Join me on this literary journey!
Dracula is one of the most renowned horror stories of its time and beyond and is told as a collaboration of journals, letters, newspaper articles, and ships’ log entries. It opens with Jonathan Harker’s journal detailing his trek from Exeter to the Carpathian Mountains to work as an estate agent for Count Dracula. Harker recounts many odd and frightful events along that journey such as howling wolves, strange dreams, frightened horses, and several people crossing themselves when they hear of his destination.
This past Friday was the last day of co-op where I teach creative writing. This was my second year teaching and several of my students from the year prior decided that they wanted to attempt a novel writing class. So this year that’s just what we did. In total I had nine students, including four from the year before, and they each tried their hand at writing a fifty-thousand word manuscript. Many of them succeed but all proved they had the dedication to learn what it would take to get past the dreaded blank page and put words down that others would eventually read.
One of the first lessons I’ve learned both the hard way, through writing classes, and discussions with other authors is ALWAYS HAVE A NOTEBOOK HANDY! This is also one of the first lessons I taught my creative writing students.
As I’m sure I’ve said before, I am a type-A personality. The traits that I most identify with from that type are that I can be hyper focused and I thrive with routine and organization. It was during NaNoWriMo 2019 that I pushed those tendencies aside and embraced disarray. At least with a few writing related practices anyway. This included my notebook. Before I tried keeping it divided into sections, nice, neat, and pristine. But despite what my personality traits might be, it was a complete failure. The notebook was rarely written in, or I would write in the wrong spot and tear it out to organize later. I still don’t know where those pages went. “Nibble nibble like a mouse. Who is nibbling at my house?”
“These hands read a pregnant belly and fly to the task.” She is truly a humble and talented servant of God. Despite the Ugly One’s hunched back and lack of beauty, she had been blessed with a beautiful daughter. The Ugly One believes her lovely Asa deserves precious gifts of silky ribbons and splendid jewels. By now, I’m sure you’re wondering how such a God-fearing woman could become a lonely witch, isolated deep in the woods with her cottage of candy, certainly meant to lure children inside so she could gobble them up. Through Napoli’s creative storytelling, she shows you how the devil and his demons do not present themselves in their true form but come to us as beautiful, lovely things. To me, Napoli has a way of expressing a great deal with very few words. In this short book, she covers love and loss, depression and desire, happiness and loneliness. Of course, you know from the original and some adapted versions of “Hansel and Gretel” that the two children shove the wicked witch into the fire and escape. This only leaves one question, does Napoli’s retelling follow the same path? The best way to find is to pick up a copy and read it for yourself. Deep in the woods lives the old witch called Ugly One. All she wants is to forget—that she was once a loving mother and a healer, blessed and powerful within her magic circle, and not a witch, claimed by the devils. Then one day she hears the footsteps she dreads. Then real voices—children’s voices. The Ugly One longs to take care of sturdy, sensible Gretel and her young brother Hansel. They are such good children, such delicious, beautiful children. But demons’ voices scream in her head: “Eat them!” How can she? . . . How can she not? A.S. HardinBuilder of worlds, creator of people, aspiring author or more realistically an avid reader and skilled procrastinator. From sci-fi to horror, I've explored it all. As of late, I find myself diving into the depths of rare and out-of-print sci-fi and fantasy. Join me on this literary journey! I’ve taken quite a bit of time off lately and my recent posts were actually from a bit ago on my old site. This is the first real new post in a while. Every time I try to expand myself and do all the things I’ve been told a soon-to-publish writer should be doing, I become more uncertain if this side the of writing world is for me. Book reviews, blogging, social media posts… it all just gets to be a bit much. Sometimes I think that maybe if my posts and interests weren’t all over the place but… you know what… this is me and this is what you get.
“Hi, I’m Amanda. I’m addicted to books and video games. I can be an absolute couch potato for TV and my fandoms span the multiverse. Over the past few years, I’ve become a D&D nerd who loves books, running, football, and firearms. My soul runs on Jesus, coffee, and writing, even if I can’t do the latter with much talent or confidence.” Over the past year since I’ve started a website, I’ve gotten busy with school, holidays, and sickness within the family. In February, I lost my mom who was instrumental in fostering my love for reading. Her favorites were always ghost stories and mysteries, and we both probably read every book in my middle and high school library. Through the years, she has talked with me a lot about books and my writing. But as I sit here and type this, I’m not sure she had read any of my work since I was a child. She would have, but I’m always very hesitant to share with anyone. It’s just another thing I wish I had done before our time was cut short. At any rate, I’m back at my computer with my manuscript hovering in the background, a thesaurus, endless notes, and a room temp cup of coffee beside me. I’m working on getting up before everyone in the house again, and I’ve even reacquainted myself with my book up to chapter twenty. I’m beta reading for two others, reworking my creative writing curriculum, and trying hard to slip back into the world I checked out of for so long. It would be awesome to be published this year, but my goal is to at least get my book out to some beta readers. This scares me beyond belief, so we shall see. When I was young, I loved nothing more than for a storm to blow up and the power to go out. It if was summer, the windows would be raised, increasing the sound of the thunder on the wind and if it was winter, then the warmth and ambiance of a wood-burning fire filled the room. With a well-worn and heavily used notebook and a candle in hand, I’d steal away to a corner of my home to write. I’d sit hunched over my paper and pen until at last power would be restored and I’d bemoan its presence, hurrying to capture the last vestiges of inspiration before it disappeared along with the darkness. Nowadays, it seems the storms that knock out the power are few and far between. Maybe they had been just as infrequent when I was a kid, but I look back on those times with childlike wonder. I also rarely write stories in any of my numerous notebooks and instead take to my computer with its ever-useful backspace button and built-in spell-check. Likewise, I don’t have the opportunity to sit down merely because the atmosphere of the moment insists on becoming my muse. I now have to awaken before the other members of my home and hole up in my closet-office with my morning coffee and sweater that I have now dubbed my writer’s sweater. You know the one, that cliché sweater worn in those movies that cast writers as the main character. Over the years, my night writing and storm writing behaviors have adapted themselves at first to the life of a working wife, then a first-time stay-at-home mom, and now a homeschooling mother of three with a flock of chickens, a half dozen cats, and two dogs who seem to require as much attention as my babies did. But there are times when the kids insist on being early risers or I accidentally manage to sleep in, so I simply slip on headphones and let the kiddos fend for themselves until a fairly respectable time for the small humans to be up socializing. The music always seems to help whether they are in the living room behind me playing Minecraft or Animal Crossing or I am alone with only my thoughts and a once hot coffee to keep me company. In other words, I’ve realized to be any sort of writer I have to write and in order to do that, I have to adjust to my current situation and surroundings. Sometimes they may evolve over years and sometimes they may change from day to day. But no matter what, I have words and stories that insist on being written, insist on being told. A.S. HardinBuilder of worlds, creator of people, aspiring author or more realistically an avid reader and skilled procrastinator. From sci-fi to horror, I've explored it all. As of late, I find myself diving into the depths of rare and out-of-print sci-fi and fantasy. Join me on this literary journey! This is a continuation on the topic of my personal writing process and tips that I have found to keep the motivation and stamina going from the first word to the last.
I feel that where I write can be just as important as when I write. I am a type-A personality, so I love structure and routine. I thrive in an environment where things are organized, and life works within a structured time frame. But life isn’t that way. No matter what, and especially so if you add kids to the mix. As of late, we’ve also added homeschooling and now chicken farming. During NaNo 2019, I dedicated myself to 50k words and made my desk my home writing place. It was just easier to get up before anyone else and spend a couple of hours getting down those 1667 words per day. There were a few occasions, however, when my laptop went with me to the car rider line or to one of the kid’s doctor’s appointments, but for the most part, my writing happened at my desk. |