Beneath emerald leaves
In grassy parks
In quiet places
A dog endlessly barks.
It barks and it barks until it becomes the whole world.
The sound grows and grows till colours are swirled.
Muddied, the sky turns a dismal grey.
I wish that dog would shut up today.
Feathers on my desk
Remind me to fly,
Keep flying.
Dead flowers on my shelf
Remind me of death
People dying.
This is the death of you,
The end of all memories.
This is a new day too.
I have a fistful of keys.
Gonna open doors, walk stone floors.
A portal to freedom will lead me home.
Waves of foam,
A ship on the seas
New possibilities.
Chin up, head high.
Time to fly.
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog. To be honest, I’d forgotten I had it. But I remembered again the other day and thought it was time to do an update. This picture shows quite clearly the reasons that I haven’t posted for so long. Forty students kept me busy. Four books on top of it kept me busier still.
If I look slightly shell-shocked in the extremely blurry picture above, that would be correct. To have gone from an aspiring writer to the published author of four books in one year at age twenty-two has left me completely blown away. A gift from God to be sure.
What are the books about? Well, they’re epic fantasy for young adults. I suppose I’ll write something more “mature” with a capital “m” when I’m older. For now, I’m content penning this eye-walloping stuff. Let’s keep it exciting, shall we?
Allow me to introduce the first four books of The Fledgling Account, available on Amazon and Book Depository.
Rafen
When Rafen was four, the Tarhians branded him with three little numbers: 237. King Talmon of Tarhia forced Rafen to work in the coal mine with his other slaves. Yet at twelve, Rafen is desperate to escape and find the phoenix feather he has dreamed about for so long. However, even if he does leave Tarhia, will he ever know true freedom? For Rafen’s name links him to a legendary figure in ancient prophecies, and the sorcerer Lashki Mirah means to kill him for it.
The Sianian Wolf
Fourteen-year-old Rafen – the royal family’s adopted son and the legendary figure known as the Fledgling of the Phoenix – is sure there is a conspiracy underway. Torn from the family he loves, he is forced to flee. He finds himself in the Woods with no food, no friends, and no weapons.
The Woods hold many secrets–and one of them is the truth about his bloodline. Rafen must draw his sword to face not just the Lashki Mirah, but the demons and sorcery that made him what he is.
Servant of the King
As Rafen becomes more desperate to wrest Siana from the Lashki Mirah, he wonders what would happen if the Sianians joined forces with the pirate king Sirius. By the time Rafen realizes his mistake, it is too late. Now two monstrosities have been unleashed in Siana.
There is one way of overthrowing the Lashki and Sirius – but it will demand everything Rafen has – even his soul. He will have to prove he is the true servant of the king.
The Fourth Runi
Just when Rafen’s life is settling down, Sherwin – who has taken some mysterious journey alone – returns to tell him who he really is. Rafen’s titles of Fledgling of the Phoenix and Sianian Wolf have all been pointing to something he has deliberately ignored… but it’s impossible to ignore now. Angry at being cut off from the royal family and isolated with his blood father in the country, Rafen makes a move that he believes will tie him to the Sianian government and royal courts forever. Desperate to claim all that is rightfully his because of the phoenix feather he received at twelve, Rafen risks alienating Sherwin, his brother Francisco, and even Etana from himself as he pursues the life that he believes should be his – for only suffering will show him what it means to be Zion’s truest representative on the Mio Pilamur. In the meantime, the Lashki is slowly turning Siana against Rafen. When Rafen is alone, the Lashki will fed him to Nazt, extinguishing the flame of his spirit forever.
2015 has been a year to remember. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Written in the blood of the ancients
Chalked in white on the sky
Flashing its sign in the darkness
Where no eagle or lark can fly
Drawn from the body in sweat
Extracted from the salt of tears
One truth I cannot forget
One witness against the years:
Eternal life is bought with pain
One Man’s sacrifice is my gain.
Two years ago, I was writing with only a fading hope that my first book would be published “some time”. Yesterday, the third book in my epic fantasy fiction series The Fledgling Account was published. It still hasn’t sunk in yet that I’m the author of multiple published books. I’m eating chocolate to celebrate.
Here’s a perfectly lovely review from Russell Proctor, a really cool Australian author.
Last Friday, I was enjoying the last afternoon of the holidays by drinking too much coffee, wearing shabby clothes, and playing online boggle. Then my cell phone went off, and The New Zealand Herald wanted an interview. A photographer was coming my way. My first internal response was: “Yes…aaargh!” After a frantic change of clothes, a hasty and painful make up session, and several minutes spent trying unsuccessfully to calm myself down, I was ready for my interview (kind of). The whole thing actually went off really well and even though I was terrified of the camera, we got through it in the end. Here’s the link. The article appeared on page three of the physical copy of The New Zealand Herald.
Now I’m back to school, but I’m still taking a bit of time to get excited about the release of book three on October 20th. It’s starting to sink in that after this I’ll have a long break. And while I’m keen for the break from deadlines, I don’t want books five, six, and seven to be left in the lurch. However, I’m praying that God will provide as he did with books one to four. Who knows?
Servant of the King, book three of The Fledgling Account, is up for preorder. If you like outrageously busy fantasy fiction that wallops you in the eye, feel free to check it out.
A little unsteady
We walk like youngsters finding their feet
Across a black and white terrain
Capable of creating so many different colours.
Sound is incense.
We begin our dance.
I try not to do too many of these kind of posts, but I really thought it was worth mentioning that my début novel Rafen is currently on sale as an ebook for $0.99 on Amazon. That’s not much to pay, and the book is a great way to waste your time – diverting and action-packed, even though the writing could bear improving. The sale lasts for another three days.
Here’s a link if you’re interested.
“I do not think you understand,” Phil said. “But you will one day. One day you will know death is better than surrender.”
All twelve-year-old Rafen wants is to escape from slavery in Tarhia and find the strange phoenix feather that haunts his dreams. Little does he know his name links him to a legendary figure in the Pilamùric prophecies. As a result, Rafen is being raised for servitude to the demonic Lashki Mirah. But even if he escapes, will he ever know what it means to be free?
The start of an all-new, epic fantasy fiction series entitled The Fledgling Account, Rafen tells the story of a twelve-year-old seeking true freedom. This YA high fantasy thriller will be sure to keep you turning pages as you discover a world of mystery, horror, supernatural powers, spirits, sorcery, and swords. Perfect for intermediate and high school students – but containing plenty of excitement for adults – Rafen promises a reawakening of the epic fantasy genre in today’s market.
Deadlines are sort of like giant hammers.
They’re very unpleasant to be on the other end of.
Deadlines are like asteroids.
They can kill you at a blow.
Deadlines are like vampires.
They drain you of life and health
(And make you pale, skinny, and lethargic).
On the other hand,
Deadlines are a fantastic excuse to have coffee.
They make Facebook look one hundred percent more interesting.
YouTube turns into a magnet.
Chocolate becomes the staple of your diet.
When people start to write to you and ask you
“How far away are you from meeting this deadline?”
You turn into an ogre and want to yell at everything.
But you reply all nice and politely and try to act sane
Even though your brain is putrefying
And spilling out of your ears.
Once you have met your deadline,
You transform magically into a really nice person.
You feel all accomplished.
You go around drinking wine and spending time with people –
Until the next deadline comes around
And turns you into a raging hermit
Who eats unhealthy food and never exercises.
To move from fiercest longing
(Missing your presence
The firebrand of your story)
To the last consummation of all hope…
This is blessing, light indeed.
I look on you, but not your face –
Rather the radiance of your desire,
Which, like mine, seemed so distant
So very unreachable.
Here we are together
Two names sharing one cover.
Many prayers, many years,
Long lamentation
Final jubilation.
Look down, Father, on the gift
You have placed in my praying hands.
You have established it.
It is good.
It is very good indeed.
