@pumpupyourbook ~ Spotlight Tour ~ That'll Do Pippin by Anne Kaufmann

Title: THAT’LL DO PIPPIN!

Author: Anne Kaufmann

Publisher: Brownridge Publishing

Pages: 68

Genre: Children’s Picture Book

Pippin and Nigel are two charming puppy brothers who live on a
wonderful farm. They are best buddies and do everything together. They
are full of mischief, energy and fun! Pippin is the smaller puppy who
wants with all his heart to be like his brother Nigel. Nigel is brave.
Nigel is strong. Nigel is smart. One day, the puppies escape from their
yard into the woods where they experience many adventures. Nigel is
always there to help and protect Pippin. Then Pippin solves a dangerous
problem all by himself and learns that it is okay just to be Pippin.

This story teaches young children the importance of believing in
themselves and that they each have their own wonderful gifts and
abilities.

Pippin had a wish. He wanted to be like Nigel. Nigel was brave. Nigel was strong. Nigel was smart. Everyone admired Nigel. 

. 

Anne Kaufmann is both the illustrator and author of the Pippin and Nigel
adventure series for young children. She is the also the author of
“Glenn Gould: Sketches of Solitude.” Anne is a former teacher librarian.
She studied English Literature at Wilfrid Laurier University and the
University of Toronto. Her passions include music, books, animals and
creating nature journals. She has shared her life with dogs, horses,
cats and birds.A nature lover, she spends many hours exploring the
forests north of her home and walking her dogs, Indy, Maya and Pippin.
She loves spending time with her horse, Aria. Some of her favourite
childhood memories include summers at her cottage on Lake Simcoe,
settling back on the family couch reading while listening to her dad’s
weekly String Quartet group, playing with her dogs and wishing for a
horse. She is currently working on the third book of the Pippin and
Nigel Adventure series and  a historical fiction novel on the great
Canadian horse and Kentucky Derby winner, Northern Dancer. She lives in
Ontario, Canada.

Tour organized by:

Read More

@shadowmoonplace @SDSXXTours ~ Spotlight Tour/#Giveaway ~ Homecoming by Charlene Johnson

Homecoming

The Sterling Wood Series Book 1

by Charlene Johnson

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Lily Sommers reluctantly returns to Sterling Wood to attend her Uncle
Jimmy's funeral - a town she left years ago.

Sterling Wood holds painful memories she’s tried to forget. One, in
particular, is still raw and every time she returns pulls
the scab off a wound that will not heal - Luc Pearson, the handsome
high school sweetheart who betrayed her.

Seeing Luc again isn't the only problem she has to face in Sterling Wood.
Someone is trying to kill her, and she doesn't know why.

She soon learns shocking revelations that could change the course of her
life as a ruthless killer stalks her.
Will the people closest to her be able to save her?

Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Sterling Wood.

Goodreads * Amazon

Charlene is a Waynesburg, Pennsylvania native. She went to Waynesburg High
School and graduated Cum Laude from Waynesburg College with a
Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Arts. Currently lives in Sacramento,
California where she spent the last 33 years working at Northrop Grumman.

Books have always been her passion. She started reading at an early age and
progressed to full-length books by age nine. The first supernatural
book series she read was Dark Shadows, and it sparked her interest in
all things paranormal, with a spicy touch of romance mixed in for
good measure. She also started writing poetry in grade school and
continues to do so today.

Being an avid reader, the consummate daydreamer and an incurable romantic
with a Cinderella complex, she started creating her own characters
and story lines because she realized she had her own stories to tell.

She is married to John, who believes she can do anything. She has a son,
Ty; a daughter, Danika; and four beautiful grandchildren, Aries,
Victoria, Maya, and Tobias.

Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys photography, travel, music, and
great movies.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * 

Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive content and a giveaway!

 a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour organized by: 

Read More

@laurelannwrites @justreadtours ~ Guest Post Tour/#Giveaway ~ Hometown Hope by Laurel Blount

Welcome to the Blog Tour & Giveaway for Hometown Hope by Laurel Blount, hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!

ABOUT THE BOOK

 

Title: Hometown Hope

Author: Laurel Blount

Publisher: Love Inspired 

Release Date: June 18, 2019 (print), July 1, 2019 (ebook)

Genre: Inspirational Contemporary Romance

He’ll do anything for his daughter…

Even fight to regain an old classmate’s broken trust.

In the three years since her mother’s death, widower Hoyt Bradley’s daughter, Jess, hasn’t spoken—until she suddenly begs him to save her favorite bookstore from closing.

Hoyt is desperate to hear his daughter’s voice again, but he and the bookstore’s pretty owner, Anna Delaney, share a less-than-friendly past.

Working together is complicated enough…but can they avoid falling in love?

PURCHASE LINKS*: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Book Depository | ChristianBook

---

~ Guest Post With Laurel ~

For me creating a story is a lot like making a good homemade stew. You search the freezer, and something catches your eye. Aha! Your star ingredient. Then you rummage in the pantry, asking yourself, what if I added this? And that? And maybe just a dash of this? Before long, you’ve got a pot of deliciousness simmering and ready to share with the people you care about.

HOMETOWN HOPE started off with a hero. Hoyt Bradley came to my mind fully formed--a broad-shouldered, blue collar guy with a bad habit of using books for coasters. Great with his hands, good-hearted, hard-working--and getting desperate because his daughter hasn’t spoken a single word since her mother’s death three years ago. I’ve known lots of men like Hoyt--in fact, I’m married to one--and I knew that when it came to helping his little girl, his motto would be “whatever it takes.” He’d set his jaw and move mountains if he had to, one boulder at a time.

Then I wondered--what if I took Hoyt out of his comfort zone of construction sites and power tools and threw him right into a place guaranteed to make him antsy--a bookstore! I added in a shy, scholarly owner, Anna Delaney, a former classmate whose crush on an unsuspecting Hoyt back in high school didn’t do her heart any favors. And--I made Anna and her bookstore the keys to helping Jess recover her speech.

I added additional flavor to the story by asking myself some interesting questions. Why do “opposites” so often attract--and what problems tend to surface when they do? What happens when God decides to answer our prayers in the unlikeliest way we could have imagined? How often does our own lack of faith stand between us and something we long for?

As I explored those ideas, HOMETOWN HOPE took shape and simmered--and now this story stew is ready to share! The paperback was released on June 18. The Kindle version releases on July 1--and it will be on shelves as a July release along with five other fabulous Love Inspired stories.

Meanwhile, I’m already rummaging in my cupboard for the ingredients for a new story! So help me out here--what flavors do you appreciate most in your love stories? Opposites attract? Reunion romances? Stories with single parents and cute kids? Second chance stories featuring older characters? Maybe I can mix your favorite into my new book stew!

---

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

Laurel Blount lives on a small farm in middle Georgia with her husband, their four children, a milk cow, dairy goats, assorted chickens and ducks, four spoiled cats and one bossy goose with serious boundary issues. She divides her time between farm chores, baking, homeschooling and writing. She's busy, but she's never bored!

HOMETOWN HOPE is Laurel’s third Love Inspired romance. Her debut Love Inspired novel A FAMILY FOR THE FARMER was the recipient of the 2017 Maggie Award for Excellence in the Romance with Religious or Spiritual Elements category. This book also received two 2017 Holt Awards of Merit and was a finalist in the 2017 Carol Awards. A BABY FOR THE MINISTER, her second Love Inspired, was released in September of 2018.

Whenever she's not working, you can find Laurel with a cup of tea at her elbow, a cat in her lap and a good book in her hand. She loves to hear from readers! Drop her an email at laurelblountwrites@gmail.com or visit her website: www.laurelblountbooks.com and be sure to sign up for her monthly newsletter!

CONNECT WITH LAUREL: Website | Facebook | Twitter

---

TOUR GIVEAWAY

(1) winner will receive an autographed copy of Hometown Hope, a $10 Starbucks gift card, a travel coffee mug, and a bar of Milltown soap--which is produced in author's hometown (Dough bowl is not included.)

Be sure to check out each stop on the tour for more chances to win. Full tour schedule shown below. Giveaway will begin at midnight June 17, 2019 and last through 11:59 PM EST on June 24, 2019. Winner will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only.

Giveaway is subject to the policies found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

---

Follow along at JustRead Tours for a full list of stops!

*NOTE: This post contains affiliate links.

Read More

@GameOverStation @pumpupyourbook ~ Spotlight Guest Post Tour ~ Knightmare Arcanist by Shami Stovall

Title: KNIGHTMARE ARCANIST

Author: Shami Stovall

Publisher: Capital Station Books

Pages: 360

Genre: YA Fantasy

In a world populated by mythical creatures, those who bond with them
are known as arcanists—their magic stemming from the connection they
forged. Phoenix arcanists gain flames and healing, unicorn arcanists
speak with horses and manipulate poison, or even basilisk arcanists who
control flesh and stone.

But those wishing to bond must first prove themselves.

Gravedigger Volke Savan, desperate to leave his tiny home island and
impress the most beautiful girl he’s ever known, breaks every tradition
of the bonding ceremony just to become an arcanist. But when the only
creature who will bond with him has a sinister requirement, Volke is put
to the ultimate test of worth.

A fast-paced flintlock fantasy for those who enjoy How to Train
Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell, Unsouled (Cradle Series) by Will Wight,
and Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan.

 

~ CHAPTER ONE ~

THE DAY OF PHOENIXES

      

I outlined a fresh grave for the cemetery as bells rang from the isle’s tower, signifying the start of the celebrations. The soil reeked of ammonia and rot, but the crisp morning breeze washed the scent away, dispersing it over the ocean. I removed my shirt, allowing the wind to cool me while I worked.

Every ten years, the people on the Isle of Ruma gathered to watch the fledgling phoenixes bond with a few chosen mortals. Lamplighters did their duty despite the glorious sunshine, each lamp’s fire representing the flames of phoenixes. Merchants cleared their horses and carts from the main road in anticipation of the crowds.

This was my second Day of Phoenixes. A decade ago, on my fifth birthday, I missed the bonding ceremony to attend my father’s trial. He was convicted of murder, but because he hadn’t been born on the island, he was taken to the mainland for final judgement. That was the last time I saw him.

Although the last Day of Phoenixes had been inauspicious, I intended to change that. Once I had finished digging a shallow grave, I would make my way into town.

I slammed the shovel’s head into the dirt and scooped deep. The cemetery sat near the edge of the island, far from those gathering to observe the hopeful students trying to win the favor of the phoenixes.

Tradition stated that anyone who handled sewage, waste, and dead bodies wasn’t allowed to attend the bonding ceremony, which was just my luck. After my father was sent away, I could’ve been given to any profession for apprenticeship. I could’ve gone to the carpenter and learned the craft of woodworking, or I could’ve gone to the silversmith and learned the art of fine metal work, but misfortune hounded me like a shadow. I was given to the gravekeeper, slated to dig corpse-holes until the end of time, forever exiled from the festivities.

I still intended to go. Even if it meant ignoring the traditions of the isle—something unheard of on our tiny spit of land—no one could stop me from proving myself to a phoenix. No one.

I scooped another mound of dirt and tossed it to the side.

“You look deep in thought, Volke,” my fellow corpse-hole apprentice, Illia, said. “What’re you planning?”

“I’m waiting for the trials to begin.”

“And then what?”

“You’ll see.”

Illia sat in the shade of a cypress tree, her legs crossed and her chin in both hands. Most people hated the thought of sitting on graves, since it was supposed to bring bad luck, but Illia wasn’t like most people. She leaned back on a headstone and exhaled as the ocean wind rushed by, catching her wavy brown hair and revealing the scars on the side of her face.

She held a hand over the marks, like she always did. The moment the wind died down, she pulled some of her hair around to cover her scars, hiding the old knife wounds that had taken her right eye.

I finished one half of the grave and huffed.

Illia and I lived in a tiny cottage on the edge of the cemetery, apprenticed to Ruma’s sole gravekeeper. We both held the glorious title of gravedigger. Like me, she had no family. Well, we had each other, and Gravekeeper William, but he hardly counted.

For ten years, Illia and I had considered ourselves brother and sister, and siblings always know each other’s mood. Illia displayed all the telltale signs of irritation—narrowed eye, rarely blinking, her mouth turned down in a slight frown. She hated the fact I was keeping secrets from her. If I didn’t explain myself quick, she’d exact her revenge.

“I don’t want to become the next gravekeeper,” I said as I threw a mound of dirt off to the side.

With an eyebrow sarcastically raised, Illia asked, “So you’re going to impress a phoenix and leave this place, is that it?”

“That’s right.”

“Only two phoenixes were born this year,” she said, wagging her finger. “And the schoolmaster has already picked his two favored disciples to win the right to bond. No one wants you to take a phoenix from either of those try-hards.”

“I don’t care.” I scooped out another clump of dirt, my grip on the shovel so tight it hurt. “Bonding with a phoenix is too important. Besides, no one on this isle likes me anyway. Why should I start caring about their opinions now?”

“Hmph. I should’ve known you’d say that.”

Of course. Anyone who bonded with a mystical creature, like a phoenix, became an arcanist—a powerful wielder of sorcery, capable of great magic based on the creature they bonded to.

Arcanists were the pinnacle of society, the most influential people, and revered by everyone. Some arcanists could control the weather, or devastate armies, or make the land fertile. Even the weakest and laziest of arcanists were well-thought-of and important members of powerful guilds, shepherding humanity to greatness with a mere flick of their wrists.

What I wouldn’t give to become an arcanist. They were things of legend.

More significant than a gravedigger, anyway.

“You’re not the only one with plans today,” Illia said. She waited a minute before adding, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ll be doing during the bonding ceremony?”

I shoveled another chunk of dirt, taking some weeds with it. “All right. Tell me. What will you be doing?”

“It’s a secret.”

She stood and brushed herself off with a few gentle pats to her dress. Then she crossed her arms and stared at me, no doubt waiting for me to pester her about the secret just so she could say, see how annoying it is when you do it?

“I’m sure you’ll have fun doing whatever it is you have planned,” I said with a shrug.

“You’re not the only one who wants to become an arcanist, Volke,” she replied, saying my name as though it were venom. “But there might be easier ways than embarrassing yourself in front of everyone.”

I finished carving the outline of the grave, determined not to be sucked into asking her what she meant. I had too many things on my mind to get into an argument. Besides, I knew she was right. It was irksome being excluded from secrets, especially by family. But I didn’t want to run the risk of her trying to dissuade me.

Another round of bells sounded in the distance. I threw my shovel to the side and turned toward the cemetery cottage. “I have to go. Whatever you do, don’t get into trouble.”

Illia replied with a smile. “Never.”

Something about her sarcastic tone told me she had trouble planned, but there wasn’t any time to go into it. I jogged into the cottage, ran up the rickety stairs, and then dashed straight into my room. It was technically a storage closet that Gravekeeper William had converted into a sleeping space so that Illia and I wouldn’t have to share the second bedroom.

The cramped room fit my cot, a chair, and a trunk for my clothes. That was it.

I squeezed myself in, ripped off my dirty trousers, and then dressed in a clean white shirt and black pants. Although I owned nothing fancy—everything in my trunk had been Gravekeeper William’s at some point—I still wanted to make an effort. The phoenixes bonded with individuals they liked the most after the Trials of Worth were over. I needed to impress them, and I couldn’t do that with grave dirt on my clothes.

Once dressed, I combed my disheveled hair, even though it never cooperated. For some reason, it always puffed out and tangled at the ends, defying gravity just to make me look foolish. And the blackness of it—an inky hue taken straight from the midnight hour—wasn’t common on the isles. Everyone else had red or blond hair, so other kids made fun of me.

Coal head. Ink brush. They weren’t clever kids—any dumber and you’d have to water them twice a week—they were just mean. No one harassed me after I grew tall, however. Six feet meant I stood out in the group, and not in a wimpy way.

When I finished the last of my brushing, my hair puffed back out.

Satisfied I had made myself halfway presentable, I laced up my boots and headed downstairs to the kitchen. I grabbed a small canteen of water and the cleanest rag we owned before rushing out the front door.

The vast ocean sparkled in the distance, so blue it put the sky to shame. The winds brought waves, but nothing strong enough to reach far inland—just the melody of water lapping across the white sand beaches.

With the breeze in my face, I ran down the dirt road until I came to the cobblestone streets of the city. I pushed my way through the crowds of people swarming toward the town square.

Our small island didn’t have much flatland, so the one city—creatively named Ruma, like the island—was the only place to live. The two-story houses were smooshed together, most with stores downstairs and homes above. Despite the congested living arrangements, people went out of their way to keep the place lively. Potted flowers, colored cobblestone for the roads, wrought-iron fences in the shape of fish for the balconies—Ruma had a special beauty waiting in every nook and cranny.

The crowds made their way to the Pillar to watch the bonding trials begin.

The Pillar—nothing more than a sheer column of pointed rock jutting straight up into the sky—was well over one hundred and twenty feet tall. It could be seen from anywhere on the island, the reddish stone shimmering in the sunlight. A single tree grew at the top, its branches forever swaying in the ocean winds, its roots laced over the rock, its fruit rare and delicious.

That sole charberry tree was what had attracted the first phoenixes to our island centuries ago. The spicy fruit tasted like a chili pepper, but sweeter and juicier. Phoenixes loved them.

The base of the Pillar was the starting location for the Trials of Worth—the tasks given to the wide-eyed hopefuls wanting to prove their value to the phoenixes. I continued through the crowd, my head tilted back, my gaze locked on the Pillar. A staircase wrapped around the column of rock, all the way to the top.

“Hey,” someone yelled as I shoved my way deeper into the excited masses. “Isn’t that one of the gravedigger kids?”

I ignored the remark, sidestepped the slow-moving families, and nimbly maneuvered through a group of schoolchildren. If I bonded with a phoenix, I wouldn’t have to stay here anymore and listen to their whispers. All new arcanists traveled to the mainland to join a guild for training.

A third round of bells chimed, and my pulse quickened with each step. I didn’t want to be late for the trials.

The whole population of Ruma packed the streets, shoulder to shoulder. No one missed the Day of Phoenixes unless they were specifically excluded, like the garbage men. Everyone wore their best attire, children tossed red flower petals, and the theater troupe wore costumes made of bird feathers while they pranced around pretending to be phoenixes. It took all of my willpower not to crane my head to get a better look as I ran by.

“—and today is a day of glory,” the schoolmaster’s voice boomed across the town square.

Schoolmaster Tyms was a naturally loud individual—Gravekeeper William described him as a regular blowhard in love with his own voice.

I slipped between two elderly men and stayed off to the side, making sure to remain in the shadows cast by the morning sun. Hundreds of people crowded the center of town, but their gazes never turned in my direction. They all kept their attention on a wooden stage near the Pillar—a platform only a few feet off the ground—where Schoolmaster Tyms stood squarely in the middle, his arms raised.

Whenever he glanced in my direction, I ducked. Schoolmaster Tyms didn’t care for anyone except those who attended his lectures, and he especially hated those with “unsavory” professions.

“I’ve mentored two extraordinary people,” Tyms said. “Both are talented beyond their years and worthy of a phoenix.”

He walked to the edge of the stage, lifting his arms even higher, his wrinkled face pulled back in an unnatural smile. I had seen corpses do a better job at conveying emotion.

But I didn’t stare at him for long because on either side of him, perched on ornate bird stands, were two phoenixes.

I stood transfixed, taking in their lustrous scarlet feathers and golden eyes. They had the build of herons, delicate and sleek, but every time they moved, soot fell from them and drifted to the ground. Fire flashed underneath their wings as though their whole bodies were made of flame. Their tails hung down two feet and twisted a bit at the end, like a peacock.

They were young, not even a year old, but that was old enough for them to leave the island. Mystical creatures didn’t reach maturity unless they were bonded to a person—I was certain they were giddy for the ceremony as well.

“We’re honored to be here today,” one phoenix said, her voice sing-song and brilliant.

The other added, “We can’t wait to see our potential partners.” He lifted his head as he spoke, his voice soft but distinct.

I wanted to hold one in my arms and feel the warmth of their magic coursing through my body, but touching a phoenix was forbidden. Only once they bonded with a person were they allowed to be handled.

The phoenixes tilted their heads as two individuals walked forward. The two were around my age, fifteen, the age of adulthood. They wore robes of glistening white, tied at the waist with silver ropes made of silk. Fancy outfits made on the mainland, betraying their wealth.

Tyms motioned to the rich newcomers. “On this Day of the Phoenixes I’ve selected Zaxis Ren and Atty Trixibelle to take part in the trials.”

Of course they would be picked. Ever since we were kids, they were always favored by the schoolmaster.

I cursed under my breath as Zaxis walked to the base of the Pillar.

He stopped under the metal archway, a century-old artifact which had been shaped into a phoenix and gilded. The arch signified the start of the trial. Anyone who passed beneath it would become a participant.

Zaxis smiled at the crowd with the smuggest expression a human could muster. His red hair shimmered in the sunlight and fluttered about with the wind. It wasn’t long enough to tie back, and I took a small amount of pleasure in watching him clumsily pat it down every few seconds, only for a stray hair to poke him in the eye again.

Zaxis’s family, the Ren House, stood at the front of the crowd, their personal soldiers keeping the “riffraff” a couple feet back. They cheered for Zaxis and threw flower petals. I had never been cheered for anything, yet all he did was show up. Life wasn’t fair sometimes.

“Thank you,” Zaxis said as he flashed a toothy smile. “Thank you. Once I’m bonded with a phoenix, I’ll make all of Ruma proud with my many accomplishments. I’ll become the world’s most renowned arcanist, loved by all.”

I balled my hands into fists and gritted my teeth. He already assumed a phoenix would choose him and that he would make one of the world’s greatest arcanists? Of course he did—he wasn’t expecting any competition.

Then Atty stepped forward, and the crowds hushed.

Unlike Zaxis, whose insufferable attitude knew no bounds, Atty held herself with regal sophistication. Her long blonde hair, tied in a neat braid, didn’t twirl in the winds. She held her head high, her slender neck adorned with a silver necklace depicting a charberry tree. I had always admired her poise and grace, like a pauper admires a member of royalty, even when I was young.

If things had been different—if I wasn’t a gravedigger—maybe I could’ve courted Atty. No doubt she would be disgusted to have someone like me approach her now. But once I bonded with a phoenix, perhaps I’d have the courage.

“Thank you, Schoolmaster Tyms,” Atty said, her voice a sweet relief after a long day’s work. “It’s a privilege to prove myself worthy of a phoenix. If I become an arcanist, I swear to dedicate myself to becoming a helpful ruler, one all of Ruma can be proud of.”

Atty’s family, the Trixibelle House, owned most of the buildings on the island. They sat on nearby balconies, each of them poised on chairs and cushions, cheering for Atty, along with everyone else on the island.

Although I wanted a phoenix for myself, I almost joined in on the clapping. Her answer was perfect, and when the phoenixes exchanged glances, I knew they thought the same.

No one else stepped forward.

While other people could offer themselves to the phoenixes, it was frowned upon. The schoolmaster knew best, or so they said—for centuries the keepers of knowledge were deemed the wisest and most capable of determining who would become the best arcanists. It was tradition. And for the last few decades, the schoolmaster hadn’t even made it a competition. He simply chose the exact number of students equal to phoenixes, ensuring his recommendation carried more weight than gold.

And the Isle of Ruma knew the importance of picking the right people to become arcanists. If the competition was open to everyone, someone with ill intents could gain vast magical power. The schoolmaster was supposed to weed them out and put forward only the best, most deserving people. That was why no one else entered the competitions. Following traditions is the way of the isles! Our island’s motto.

But even if I was noble of spirit, Atty and Zaxis studied and trained eight hours a day under the care of Schoolmaster Tyms. Everyone else, myself included, had work and chores. Atty and Zaxis were lucky. I wasn’t. How could I ever hope to match their knowledge and skills?

That didn’t matter, though. I wouldn’t make excuses. The phoenixes could, in theory, bond with anyone they found worthy. And I would show them just how worthy I was by passing each of the three trials.

“Once our hopefuls walk through the archway,” Tyms said, gesturing to the gold phoenix arch, “they will officially become participants in the trials. For the first task, each hopeful must walk up all one hundred and twelve steps of the Pillar to the charberry tree. Then they will pick a fruit to present to the phoenixes and return down the stairs.”

Every Day of Phoenixes had the same three trials. The charberry tree was the first. Only one stairway led to the tree—the spiral stairway made of stone steps that wrapped around the Pillar. The steps were hundreds of years old and worn smooth from use. Oh, and no railing, which was why I never felt safe standing on them, as falling from anything past the tenth step meant serious injury, possibly death.

“And with that, you may begin,” Tyms shouted.

Both Atty and Zaxis bowed to the crowd before turning and walking through the archway.

This was it.

My moment.

I ran through the crowd, pushing people out of the way when I needed to, even knocking over a few men of the Ren Family as I dashed toward the arch. My heart beat so hard I almost didn’t hear people screaming for me to stop.

“Hey!” a woman barked.

“What’s he doing?” someone else shouted.

“Stop him!”

But before anyone could grab me, I raced through the archway, dashing past Atty and Zaxis.

“What do you think you’re doing, Volke?” Zaxis growled. “Good-for-nothing gravediggers can’t enter the trials!

I had my foot on the first step of the Pillar when I glanced over my shoulder. “I already passed under the archway. That makes me a participant.”

“What? That’s not allowed!” Zaxis glanced over his shoulder. “Right, Master Tyms?”

Tyms blubbered and flailed his arms. “How dare you, Volke! You walk back through that archway this instant. You’re disgracing all of Ruma with your disrespect!”

I ran up the steps, taking them two at a time despite the lack of railing.

Today I would prove myself to a phoenix. I would prove myself to all of Ruma.

I was more than just a gravedigger.

I wouldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. 

~ Guest Post With Shami ~

How to Research While Outlining Your Book

Let’s face it—most books require some research. Even romances can involve some specific details you, the author, aren’t an expert on. In one short story, I wrote, I had to look up the child seatbelt laws for the state of Minnesota. And for my YA Fantasy, Knightmare Arcanist, I had to look up the proper names for every part of a boat (and reads lots of mythical creature mythology—which was super fun, but still research).

The point is, research helps brings your story to life. It gives the novel verisimilitude. And trust me, you want verisimilitude.

So how can you make this process easier for yourself? It sucks to stop halfway through a chapter and research something minor, especially if the words were flowing. Nothing will break your concentration more than hoping onto the internet. Don’t lie to me—that’s where Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube are. You’ll get distracted. You need tips to avoid distraction.

Here they are!

Tip #1

Know the area/time period/technology level of your story ahead of time, and find 3-5 websites that involve this subject.

Copy the URL to each website, and then copy the contents into a word file. This will give you a vast amount of knowledge on random things and you won’t have to go to Google while you’re writing. The urge to type in “Facebook” will be gone. You already have a word file with your research!

Tip #2

If the words are flowing, but you’re not sure of the tech level (or some other detail) for the scene, go to your research word file, copy the URL, and put it into the story and continue writing. Don’t even bother researching in that moment—just put the link there and continue. You can come back during editing to do the hard research later. Let the words flow now!

Tip #3

Read/watch some documentaries on the time period/area/tech level, and SPECIFICALLY NOTE WHAT ISN’T THERE.

If you give yourself a list of things to avoid, it’ll help you remember that while you write. Things like 1390s Europe didn’t have a printing press will put a lot of tiny details into perspective. (As a fun side note, the Europeans used xylography before the printing press—a type of wood block “printing” that was super slow and bothersome). By giving yourself limitations, you can avoid a lot of editing in the future. And that’s it!

I used these exact tips while writing Knightmare Arcanist, a YA Fantasy sent in the Age of Exploration—a time with pirates, boats, and awesome discovery! I also researched phoenixes, dragons, leviathans, and all sorts of other cool mythical creatures. It’s a How to Train Your Dragon-like story of fun and adventure. And it’s well researched, too, haha!

Happy writing!

Shami Stovall relies on her BA in History and Juris Doctorate to make
her living as an author and history professor in the central valley of
California. She writes in a wide range of fiction, from crime thrillers
to fantasy to science-fiction. Stovall loves reading, playing video
games, entertaining others with stories, and writing about herself in
the third person.

Website: https://sastovallauthor.com/


Blog: https://sastovallauthor.com/blog/


Twitter: https://twitter.com/@GameOverStation/


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SAStovall/

Tour organized by:

Read More