• The Writer

    Hello! My name is Laura, welcome to my blog! I write weird stories, collect dragon plushies and stay up too late with my nose in a book. I am a wife, mom and child saved by grace. My hope is that you find encouragement here or at least a smile or too.
    God bless!

  • “Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book that it may be for the time to come forever and ever.”
    ~Isaiah 30:8.

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    February 2014
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    We have come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming 'sub-creator' and inventing stories, can Man aspire to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall. Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil.
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "The only just literary critic," he concluded, "is Christ, who admires more than does any man the gifts He Himself has bestowed."
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisioned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "Writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eye for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable. To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures."
    ~Flannery O'Connor

    You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.
    ~Arthur Polotnik

    Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
    ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

    "There are forms of insanity that condemn people to hear voices against their will, but as writers we invite ourselves to hear voices without relinquishing our hold on reality or our right to control."
    ~Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway

    Christians have sometimes been suspicious of stories, because they really can influence you. If you read the Twilight novels once a month for a year, I think you'd be a different human afterward—and not a sparkly one.
    ~Nate Wilson

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Heart of Hope’s Draft III Beginning

I’m very excited about draft III of Heart of Hope so I had to share the first scene.  For those of you who have read drafts I and II, you’ll see that  HoH is finally growing up. 🙂

How had it come to this? Knees and hands in the dirt, her arm stinging from the strike of a whip, Avalyn watched the cart holding her mother roll away.
Tears streaking her face, Rhea gazed back.  Unable to raise her hand, bound to the cart she called out to her daughter,
“Stay free!”
Her cry was met with the back of a soldiers hand to her face.
“No!”  Avalyn pushed herself to her feet and ran after the cart.
“Stay clear.”  The mounted soldier holding the whip warned, but Avalyn didn’t care.
“Let her go!”  Avalyn reached for the cart.  The braided leather of the whip met her hand, wrapping it around her wrist.  Yanked away Avalyn once again found herself in the dirt of the road.
“I said stay back!”  The whip fell again.  As it fell across her back, Avalyn screamed.  It fell again, and again. Finally it stopped.
“Let that be a lesson to you not to mess in the affairs of the Lord Regent.”
The whip cracked over her head, echoing in her ears.  As she watched the soldiers and the cart disappear down the road Avalyn sobbed.  Her back throbbed and she felt warm blood beginning to soak her dress.  Tears blurred her vision, her sobs racking her body but it only mad the pain in her back worse.
She was suddenly aware of the people watching her.  Villagers gathered to observe the spectral.  She tried to rise to her feet and stumbled.  Someone caught her.
“Av,” Avalyn looked up into the face of her cousin, Esten.   “I’m sorry.”  His shaggy blond hair shadowing his brown eyes.  He placed her arm over his shoulder, supporting her weight.  She hung her head and let Esten carry her away.

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1 Comment

  1. Pippin

     /  February 10, 2014

    An intriguing opening. I’m drawn in right away and want to know more about these charries. Nice work! 🙂


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