A collection of creativity
If last week’s books didn’t intrigue you, hopefully these books will. I don’t personally own any of the books below, BUT they did end up on my “to be read” list. These are all books that I encountered while at the Realm Makers Expo a couple weeks ago. I hope you find a couple to add to your reading list!
My brief captions of these books do not do their stories justice. If one strikes your fancy, check it out on Goodreads for the full summary. Several of these have over 4 star ratings.
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At my time at Realm Makers, I encountered A LOT of new books I wanted to read. Here are the ones I actually obtained at the conference and plan on reading at some point. All of them are within the featured image of this post.
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While at the Realm Makers writing conference in Grand Rapids Michigan, I had a long walk from the hotel to the conference. On that walk, I passed this statue of a man made of letters. At first, I didn’t realize he was made of letters. He was just this silver mash-up of metal sitting there for all to see. I pushed it off as one of those “weird” city statues and went about my day.
Upon second look, I noticed a letter in his cheek. Then, one in his arm. His chest. His head. It made me pause with realization that this metal man was more than he seemed to be. He was made of a lot of letters, he had a lot to be said. Instead, he was just sitting there, knees to his chest and arms holding his ankles. His head was straight. He wasn’t looking down. He wasn’t looking up. Perhaps, he was gathering his thoughts? Trying to sort out all the letters inside him to form proper words. Perhaps he was waiting for someone to help him? Someone to reach out and listen or lift him up with a good teaching? Perhaps he was waiting for the right story to come along and inspire.
There’s so much thought that can go into this man made of letters. Every time I went by him, I found him a little more and more relatable. Maybe he’s a writer trying to find that perfect opening sentence? Or, he has all these ideas to turn into a novel and he’s struggling to get them to line up? Maybe he’s wrestling with defining his own emotions? His anxiety or his excitement? Maybe he’s sitting that way because he knows he needs to just be still and listen?
Whatever the reason behind the man. He’s art I grew to appreciate over my time walking to and from my conference. I don’t know who made him. I don’t know why, but like all art, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I wanted to share this man made of letters because his thoughtfulness could be interpreted differently by everyone. I hope you can appreciate him to.
The Hall is bustling. So much activity has me pausing as I step inside. Fauns are straightening the tables and wiping every speck of food off of them. Several elves are on ladders around the walls, cleaning off the banners. Two look like they’re trying to straighten one out. It looks pretty straight to me, but they way they hold their chins tells me they’re not so sure.
I try to take a step, but bright violet light flashes across my vision and is gone. Following it, I watch the purple fairy fly up to one of the Hall’s many stained glass windows. Every window has about a dozen fairies around it as they’re all trying to get them at their cleanest. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who’s on edge about the writing conference.
I take a step, but clench my padfolio up against my chest as a patrol of human soldiers march past me and out of the Hall. A sigh escapes my lips. When I look after them, they’re spreading throughout the courtyard outside. It’s as busy as the Hall with everyone trying to spruce it up.
“Are you prepared?”
I can’t turn back around without jumping, and a quiet “fudge” breaks from my breath. An elderly man with a long silver beard bars my path. His hands are folded in his blue-violet robes and ever present disappointment is settled in his mismatched eyes. “I think we’re at a good spot,” I say to him.
A grunt purses his lips. “Good spot?” he repeats. “We’ve been at a ‘good spot’ for years now. Are you prepared or not? Don’t you recall what happened last year?”
I hum as his words strike a bit of a nerve. I know what he’s trying to bring up, but I point my finger to stop him. “As I recall, I got four publishers interested in our story last year. They all got a chance to meet you guys, but somewhere along the line,” I motion to him with my whole hand, “you guys messed it up, but we’re working on that.”
“How dare–”
“I gotta go, bye.” I wave my hand at him and slip past. His grumbling calls after me, but I don’t turn my head to look back. I need to stay focused and not get muddled in what he wants me to worry about. Instead, I search through the crowded Hall. I have to keep my padfolio tight against my chest to keep from dropping it as I bob and weave through the different races. Halfway down the Hall, I notice three stewards up by the elevated seat on the far side of the room. They’re wiping it down with towels, making it shine like the star it was named after. The person I’m looking wouldn’t be found anywhere near that throne, so I move on.
Dodging around a couple fauns carrying dishes, I bump into one of the tables.
“Watch it,” the sharp tongue holds a familiar ring, but when I look up, I find the butcher’s boy instead of who I’m looking for. He’s frowning at me through matted black hair. “The fauns already adjusted this table fifteen times, you’re going to make them do it again.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. I was going to move on, but what he’s doing makes me pause. He’s leaned over one of the tables with his hands braced against it. A parchment is laying between his thumbs. My eyebrow rises. He hates reading, so why is he bent over paper? “You good?” I ask slowly.
The darkness of his eyes is only amplified by the sour stretch of his pale face. I blow air out my cheeks and regret my question. As hollow as his stare is, he doesn’t look like he wants me to leave yet. He licks his lips and bitterly looks away. “What’s a One Sheet?”
I barely hear his question over the noise of the Hall. I look at his parchment and notice how it has designs on it, but no words. It makes me feel like his question is very relatable. “It’s…” I trail off with a sigh. “It’s a tool, but–” I cut off when I meet his eyes and my brow tightens. “Wait. Why are you asking?”
He pulls off the table and motions at the parchment like he wants to strangle it. “I was told to do it.”
I blanch. “You were told…” I pinch my nose bridge and take a deep breath. “You should not be the one in charge of the One Sheet. Give me that.” I reach out and when he slides the parchment over, I snatch it and shove it in my padfolio. “Go find the Dark One and make sure he’s ready for this weekend. In fact, go find everyone who shows up in the first chapter and tell them they better be packed and ready to go.”
The butcher’s boy immediately turns to depart, but he pauses. “You know,” he looks at me with his chin in the air. “If you put me in the first chapter, we’d have a better shot.”
My turn to reach at something like I want to strangle it. “Go!” He rolls his eyes and leaves.
With another sigh, I try to straighten up my padfolio now that I shoved the One Sheet in it. I still have things in here from last year I need to take out. A faun comes at my shoulder, muttering a quiet “excuse me.” I step away and watch as she and another faun straighten the table I just bumped.
“Eh-hem.”
Every muscle in my back tenses at the throat that clears behind me. My reaction causes a pleasant chuckle from the person. I let out a slow breath and force my jaw to relax. I flash a smile before I turn around and I’m met with the twinkling brown eyes of my most sassy character. Her face is masked, but I can tell she’s smiling. “You’re not coming,” I tell her.
“Oh, but I think I should.” She juts out her hip and rests a wrist against it. Behind her, her long white braid sways past her knees. “I can be your back up.” She shrugs. “I can be his back up to.”
She’s looking at me when she says that last part which tells me the person I’m looking for is not in the bustling Hall. I can’t blame him. The main character always has a lot riding on their shoulders. “I appreciate the offer,” I say to her, “but I can’t risk you telling off the publishers if they say ‘no.'”
She crosses her arms. “They’d be–”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” I cut her off with a raise of my hand. “This is serious. I need everyone at their best.”
She watches me for so long it starts to make me uncomfortable. Her gaze is steady on my eyes even when I look away. Amongst all the activity, the fauns rushing past, the fairies flying over, she remains unmoved. As bold as a mountain and feeling she has nothing to apologize for. That’s what I love most about her, but in this moment, I hate it. “Well,” I clear my throat. “I should–”
“We need you at your best to.”
Her words make me pause. I rub my thumb down the edge of my padfolio. The tightness of my throat lingers at the back of my mind and I force my jaw to relax again. “It’ll be alright.” I flash her a small smile. “I’m not alone.” I pull at the chain of my necklace under my shirt and pull out my necklace so she can see it. “Right?”
Her eyebrow twitches, but I can see the smile rising in her eyes. She nods once. “Good luck.”
“Behave while I’m gone.”
She laughs. “Ha! Never.”
With a light toss of my eyes, I leave her in the Hall. It takes me a few minutes, but I finally find him on the ramparts. He’s leaned over them, watching the plains sway in the wind.
“You alright?” I step up to him and rest my padfolio on the wall. He gives me a side-long look and doesn’t say anything. His hands are pressed together and his fingernails scratch at his wrist. I glance at his arms. All his scabs have healed to scars so he doesn’t have one to pick at. “It’s going to be fine.”
“How can you say that?” He taps his fist against the wall and scratches his forehead with his other hand. “It’s been years.”
I take a deep breath and watch the plains. Such a beautiful blend of greens and golden grasses. “It has been years, but there’s still so much we don’t know. That’s why we’re going.” I look back at him. “I’m taking different classes this time to help me understand the next steps while we work on our current edit. If these publishers aren’t interested, then we’ll finish the edit and go from there.”
He’s quiet for long moments then finally turns his head to look at me. “You’re not giving up?”
I shrug and look back at the horizon. “If I give up, it’s all for naught. I have to believe this novel has a purpose even when the odds are stacked against it.”
We both watch the plains. Such an expanse of land with bright blue sky and clouds sailing like ships across it. I can almost feel the magic that holds the land together.
“Thank you.” His tone is quiet, but when my main character looks me in the eye, I find myself growing a smile. “If anything.” His shoulders balance a shrug. “We’ve learned a lot together.”
My smile grows as I think back to the first days he and I met. We were so different then. The story was so different back then.
He takes a deep breath and leans off the wall. “So, if we’re doing this. Do we have everything?”
I glance at the padfolio. Query letter. First page. A blank One Sheet. I have the schedule and an idea of a pitch. My hand traces to the chain around my neck and I follow it to the charm hanging from it. I’ve had this one necklace since I was a child. I never take it off. My main character watches my hand finger the different points of the cross. He meets my gaze and I give a light smile. “I think we do.”
I’m excited to share that this is my 500th post on this website since starting it in October of 2020. Thank you to everyone who’s been following, reading, and joining in this journey with me!
Here’s to hope like the sunrise.
Here’s to serenity like the moon.
Here’s to boldness like a lioness.
Here’s to community like a church.
Here’s to being clothed like the flowers
And fed like the sparrows.
Here’s to vigilance like a knight
To loyalty like a furry friend.
Here’s to gentleness like a hummingbird.
Here’s to peace like the lapping shore.
Here’s to a life of fullness and faith. To finding purpose and making a difference.
Here’s to life together.
Shadows flicker on stone walls as the candles reach their limits. A grand hall is quiet. The shuffling footsteps that usually fill it were somewhere tucked away in slumber. I sit on the edge of one of the many tables in the hall. I can’t keep my legs still and let them swing in and out from under the table. My hands stay braced on its rough wooden edges as I stare at the floor. It feels like the elevated seat at the end of the hall is casting judgmental eyes on me.
Quiet footsteps approach and I finally look up. A young man, my main character. Through the dim light, I can make out a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while,” he says. “I should ask how you’ve been?”
I shrug and nod, then shake my head and nod again. A terrible response, but I don’t know what to say. “What about you?”
His answer is very similar to mine, but with more shrugging. He motions to the table and I scoot over so he can sit beside me. “This new edit you’re doing.” He gives me a side-long glance. “I’m not so sure about it.”
I huff. “Yeah, me neither. What are your thoughts?”
His shoulders shrug again and he picks at dirt on his trousers. “It’s not very flattering. Do you think people would actually like it? Or relate to it?”
I shrug. “It’s different. I don’t read much, but I don’t know of any books with characters that do it. As for relating…” I trail off and do another awkward shrugging, head bobbing, shaking head bit. I catch a frown on his face and sigh. “Look.” I lift one arm and press it against his. White lines and dark patches scale up and down our arms. I take my other hand and match a dark patch on my skin up against a matching one on his wrist. It was something he did to himself several months back when he was trying not to cry. “I don’t know if anyone can relate to this–I certainly don’t know anyone–but I relate to this. I’m sorry. You got this because of me.”
It’s hard to read his expression in the dim light. I hold my arms up as long as he wants to look at them. When he pulls his arm away, I go back to bracing the table. I cross my ankles and stiffly wait for him to say something. It feels like forever before he finally speaks.
“I guess it isn’t so bad.” He scratches at one of the scars on his arm. “Does it ever go away?”
I blow air out my lips. Scars can fade, but that wasn’t what he was asking. “Yes and no, I guess. Some seasons are better than others. Depends on stress level?” I look at him and give a crooked smile. “And boredom too, I suppose.” He seemed to accept my answer as he bobbed his head and folded his hands in his lap.
“Do you think the beginning is good?”
His question doesn’t surprise me, but I dread it all the same. I know exactly what he means. “I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “It’s different. It’s easily questioned, but things shouldn’t go to plan.” I glance at him. I don’t need to defend myself to him, but I spout it into the universe anyway. “People become more of themselves when they realize where they’re supposed to be, but not everyone knows where they belong. You didn’t.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I keep going.
“Then, there’s times you think you know what you’re supposed to be in life. Only to find out you were wrong.” I look down at my hand, picking at the yellow fluid on a scrape near my thumb. “I thought I was supposed to be an animal doctor, but that didn’t happen and I like what I do now a lot better.” I pinch the scrape and watch as more fluid oozes into it. “I thought I was supposed to be an author too.”
We trail into silence. I can’t look at him. Can’t look up at the beautiful hall cast in night’s shadows. He nudges me and his tone falls quiet. “You’re still an author.”
I try to give him a grateful smile. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He laughs and the hall echoes with it. “And you think I do?” A turn of his head and I know he’s looking at the elevated seat at the end of the hall. “We all make choices.” He looks back at me. “That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? The choices we make. Choose to act. Choose to be idle. Choose to say something. Choose to stay quiet.”
I speak up before he can say more. “Choose Light.” When I look him dead in the eye, he falters and looks away. “Choose Dark.”
A deep breath lifts his chest and he bobs his head. “Yeah,” he says stiffly and I know he’s dreading a moment towards the end of the book. I know he’s afraid of how I’ll edit it this time.
I nudge him. “You’re right.” I wipe the scratch by my thumb then rest my hands in my lap. When I lean my shoulder against his, I feel him lean back. “So…how about…I keep on choosing to believe–even on the hard days, and you keep on holding out.” I try to catch his eye and he only offers a side-long look. “I do think the beginning is good.” His eyebrow twitches and I know I caught his interest. I start smiling and I can’t stop.” I’m starting to think the rest of the book doesn’t measure up with it though.”
The biggest groan I’ve ever heard from him escapes his lips. He pulls away from me with a big roll of his eyes. “Well,” he says smartly. “That’s just great.”
“Exactly.” I give him a shoulder shove then take a deep breath and lie back against the top of the table. Through one of the hall’s stained glass windows, I can see the full moon shining through. “It’s gonna be great, because that’s what we’ll choose.”
It’s wild to me to think that two weeks from now I’ll be at the Realm Makers Writing Conference and Expo. Just two weeks. I should feel excited, but nerves are getting in the way.
In exactly two weeks from today, I’ll be pitching my novel again to editors and publishers. I’m still in the editing phases of my latest draft, but most publishers are willing to wait as long as it takes if they like an idea. I try to take deep breaths.
I remember last year when I went to Realm Makers, I got my first two full manuscript requests out of the four publishers I pitched to. I remember praying “Lord, I won’t be able to take anymore rejections if these don’t pan out.” I’ve been avoiding the topic, but they didn’t pan out. All four publishers rejected me. I guess I lied, because I took all four rejections and I’m setting myself up for more by going back to pitch again.
Hopefully, this time will be better. I do feel I’m making improvements on my novel with this latest draft. If anything, I’m trying to focus on the classes and the expo that Realm Makers will offer. How can I learn more about the industry? How can I become a better writer?
One thing I really hope for is the connections. Meeting with other writers and hopefully building friendships. Realm Makers is a collection of Christian creatives who love fantasy, sci-fi, D&D, games, and more. I remember feeling like I found my people last year.
So, in a sense, with all these geeks together, anything can happen. I’m looking forward to the adventure.
I recently finished my audiobook of Bear Knight by James R. Hannibal. It’s the second book in the Lightraider series. I really enjoyed the first novel Wolf Soldier, and like a true sequel, Bear Knight sets up the trilogy. I’ve already started the third book, Lion Warrior.
When I sit down and think about Bear Knight, I realize I didn’t like it as much as the first novel in the series. It was still good. There was a lot of action, there were lessons in place, and scenes that got your mind pondering. The author introduces a different side of the setting and brings in the ingenuity of steampunk with the tinkerers in the story. The world is expanded upon and in my opinion, its a beautiful one. There’s also several talking bears and that’s a plus in my book.
One of the themes in the story is how the characters are trying to find their place in their order. Are they Navigators? Tinkerers? Members of the Vanguard or Rangers? You get to see what some of the characters are hoping for and then find out if they’re disappointed come the end of the book. One of the characters struggles to find her place. She knows where she wants to be, but to get there, she has to surpass the other trials as well and it’s a struggle. I feel a lot of us can relate to the pressure she feels to not fall behind the rest of her class. I found myself rooting for her.
I would recommend reading Bear Knight after Wolf Soldier. The only times I can recall that I didn’t care for the story were the times that romance was hinted, but I’ve never been one for romance in a story. Especially a story where war in the rise and the characters can’t afford to be distracted by crushes and infatuations.
If I get my hands on a physical copy of the Lightraider series, I will probably review how James R. Hannibal writes his fight scenes. There are a lot and yet, they’re easy to follow. Fight scenes are something I struggle with in writing, so I feel it would be good to study how James R. Hannibal fits them together.
If you liked reading Wolf Soldier, it’s worth it to continue on to Bear Knight.
I mean, who doesn’t like talking bears?
nikki diekemper