The Shard Trilogy

Hello my lovely and beautifully loyal readers. I know I’ve been absent for a while, but things have been happening at the speed of light! Most importantly, I married the love of my life, so you know, that was nice.

In other news, however, you will (hopefully) be glad to know that I’m officially back. Blogs will roll, I say! Ahem. In any case, I happen to have started publishing my books, finally. I’m excited! One of them is already out under the pen name Helen Rose, but I will in fact be publishing the first of the Shard-related books later this month under my own name. I’m incredibly excited to finally be able to share these with you, and a lot of you have been there with me since the beginning as I worked on and slaved over them. So thank you for your continued and awesome support, and stay tuned for Pirates, book one in the Shard trilogy! (Super sneaky sneak peek at the covers up above there for you.)



The Dreams You Carry

I don’t own this image. But it’s pretty, so it’s here.

So, recently, I’ve been having some inner conflicts about my writing. I love to write, possibly more than doing anything else, and yet I don’t seem to ever have the creative and emotional energy anymore to delve into it. Every time I sit down to write, I end up writing some driveling practice thing that I know will never make it into an actual story. Fifty or so unfinished books are sitting on the dusty virtual shelves of my laptop, and countless more handwritten ones are gathering literal dust on my bookshelf, or sitting in the recesses of my closet, probably growing mold. But I love to write. It used to be so effortless; pure inspiration, pure creativity.

And I got a bit fed up the other night, and in an exasperated tone, I burst out, “Whatever, God – what do YOU want me to do with this writing thing?” (I live alone, so I can talk to myself without being self-conscious about it). Whether or not I felt or sounded exasperated, it was a sincere handing over of my deepest, most precious passion. I don’t know what to do anymore, so I asked God to show me. He is, after all, the one who gives us our talents, and He gifts them for a reason.

I think I’ve known all along what to write, but I haven’t been ready, and I haven’t been doing it the right way. I still wanted to compromise and mix Martha Stewart paint with cheap metallic spray paint, so to speak. Because that’s easier. Because that’s what people do.

So here it is. I’m tired of seeing bookstores peppered with mass-produced, basically-porn, fake, horrible, cheap romance novels that, to quote Miss Ouiser from Steel Magnolias, “have nothin’ but naked people in ’em,” and that totally trash and walk all over what real love is. I’m tired of hearing that women read these cheap substitutes to fill an emotional gap and settling for so much less than what is real, even just in a book. And I’m equally tired of seeing Christian bookstores with mostly sappy, fake, airy-fairy love stories that often tend to stay so far away from the secular romance novels that they go to a cotton candy extreme. (Seriously, if I have to read the sentence “She didn’t understand this feeling” one more time, I may have an aneurysm. I don’t know about you, but I know when I’m attracted to someone.)

I want to write a real, true, beautiful, breathtaking, fiery, wholesome, passionate, pure, lovely, epic love story. I want to write one that people can relate to, that doesn’t hide behind pretense, but that is also good and pure and glorifying to God. I know it can be done, and that’s what I want to do. The world doesn’t need more watered-down half-truth, and it doesn’t need more trashy paperbacks. This is the vision for my writing. And I want it to expand, so that it’s not only love stories, but adventures, and history, and poetry, and songs, and whatever else bubbles up from this.

God has a vision for the world and every detail of it, and the talents He’s given us serve a real, tangible purpose. Ask Him what to do with them – if you’re at the end of your rope, it’s because He has a better one for you to grab onto.

You Are the Song I Sing


What am I? I am a silent song, an empty dance.
I am a tuneless melody, a shapeless form, a lifeless tree.
What can grow from me? My heart is stone; my blood is ice.
What can come from me? My eyes are dim, my pulse is slow.

Only you can light me, only you can breathe me into hopeful song, into joyful dance.
You are the song I sing; you are the lifeblood flowing. You are the shaping hand; you are the notes and harmony.
Burn me with your flames, make me clean as snow; spark a life in me, beat my heart to pound.
You are the one I love, you are the one I’ve found; you are the song I sing; you are the music I dance to.

Breathe you into me, make me live your love. Draw me close to you, be the pulse, the beat.
You are all I want; make me want you more.

Give your love to me so I may love you, too.

As If It Wasn’t Enough

Sorry again for the non-optimized image…I forget these things when I’m in math lockdown (and procrastinating from it, obviously). Anyway, I’m doing two NaNo novels this November. I did not decide this. But this particular tale is rather close to my heart (enter sappy violin) and it suddenly popped up again while I was outlining the other novel. I can’t drop the other one, and this one is refusing to go away, so I’ll do them both.

When I explain the plot to you, you might freak out or at the very least be put off. Well…all I can say is that it’s not what it sounds. It is (she said humbly) different from anything you’ve ever read. It will sound familiar, but I can promise you that nothing about it is even remotely familiar. Don’t judge a book by its summary, however silly that sounds. Put all thoughts of Twilight and other fantasy out of your mind, because this isn’t fantasy. And now I sound demented…*sigh* This is so hard to explain, so I don’t think I will. You can decide for yourself. Anyway. I give you…

Title: Spare Me Over

MFC: Lily Eden Paddington

MMC: Trystan Edwards

Synpsis-ish Thing: Death is too arrogant for his own good and thinks humans are a waste of space. The Key Holder has determined that Death must be punished, and learn his lesson; and so he is sent to earth as a teenage boy, where he must live through four years of high school and learn what it’s like to be human, while still carrying out his duties.

Trystan Edwards, as Death calls himself, ends up fitting in quite well. He is attractive, has extraordinary musical ability, and gradually begins to understand what it is about humans that the Key Holder loves. With his newly empathetic view on what death means for humans, he resolves to perform his task more carefully. He is nearly ready to go back to the in-between realm, when he meets Lily Eden Paddington, a girl who has just lost her best friend to suicide. When he begins to feel things about her he does not understand, everything changes…

…or was this the Key Holder’s plan all along?


I know the image for the cover is copyrighted, but I couldn’t find any other image that worked well. Besides, I plan to send this out for actual publication instead of self-publishing. That’s right, my friends, this will hopefully be my first published novel, if anyone will have it.

In other news, I’m finished with math. All that’s left is creative writing, and that doesn’t seem too daunting ๐Ÿ˜‰

Oh My Schnickelfritz.

Forgive me if I’ve already used this title, but it’s very fitting.

Due to an insane and inhuman amount of schoolwork (do not contest me on this, because for once in my life I am not exaggerating), I haven’t written in a week. Not only that, but I don’t have much desire to write today or tomorrow (my two off days) because I do internet school, on the computer, and I’m kind of tired of the computer. So it of course makes perfect sense that I’m blogging. Anyway, I did want to give some kind of an update.

I discovered my genre!! The main one, at least. I shall from now on be focusing on Christian romance in addition to fantasy, which I’m sure I’ll never be able to get away from (not that I’m complaining). How do I know that this is my genre? Well. I started writing it just for kicks, and I ended up writing over 12k in three days. I could have done more, if I hadn’t had school. It just kept going. The only other time where I’ve been that inspired was when I was writing my first novel, my first anything – the catalyst for my entire writeringness. So.

In other news, the name of my screenplay has changed yet again. Love in High Places sounded a little bit too much like Bruce Almighty, which there’s nothing wrong with, but this isn’t a comedy. It’s more like The Brave One meets The Phantom of the Opera meets House meets Wuthering Heights meets some other stuff. You get the idea. I present to you the hopefully final screenplay information:

Script type: Screenplay
Genre: Drama/Romance
Title: Love in Dark Places
Logline: Haunted by the cage her own mind creates, seventeen year-old London must find her way out before itโ€™s too late.
MFC: London Whinter
MMC: Cilian Girard
Anatgonist: Trek Manchurian {Actually, there is no antagonist except human nature – Trek ends up redeeming himself and falling for London. This was not my doing. While writing novel-style scenes for character development, Trek and London developed an obvious chemistry. Apparently this is going to be a bittersweet movie, against my principles. But anyway.}