Hey y'all! I'm here to drop a few book recs for 2023. So far, these are my top 5 star books. I haven't actually read a lot of new 5 star books this year--I have a ton of nonfic/classic/for-school 5-stars, but those don't really count. So here are my top five fiction reads for this year--almost all of which are indie (!!)--and I'll be dropping any further top books in my Year-End wrapup!

Hey guys! NaNo/FicFrenzy/whatever you're participating in is in full swing, so I'm writing from the cave to report my progress (hint: none). I always do Know the Novel, but this is honestly not much news. But I shall share anyway :D

1. How’s the writing going overall?

I haven't written much in October-November because...busy. I've had work, school, lots of babysitting, and a principal role in my school's play (actually the biggest time-eater). But I'm at over 50k at this point, and the midpoint twist is close. Very, very close. At least...I think it is? I am the Struggle with the actual plot of this book.

2. What’s been the most fun aspect about writing this novel so far?

3. What do you think of your characters at this point? Who’s your favorite to write about?

4. Has your novel surprised you in any way?

5. Have you come across any problem areas?

6. What’s been your biggest victory with writing this novel at this point?

7. If you were transported into your novel and became any one of the characters, which one do you think you’d be? Would you take any different actions than they have?

8. Give us the first sentence or paragraph then 2 (or 3!) more favorite snippets!

9. Share an interesting tidbit about the writing process so far! (For example: Have you made any hilarious typos? Derailed from your outline? Killed off a character? Changed projects entirely? Anything you want to share!)

10. Take us on a tour of what a normal writing day for this novel looks like. Where do you write? What time of day? Alone or with others? Is a lot of coffee (or some other drink) consumed? Do you light candles? Play music? Get distracted by social media (*cough, cough*)? Tell all!

Hey guys! It's that time of year: Time for the Know the Novel linkup! Christine Smith hosts this every year, and it's one of my favorite blogging events. 

I'll be introducing my current novel today :D I've shared some things on Instagram already (@rfgammonauthor if you're curious) and I'll continue doing that as time goes on. But here it is: a formal introduction to my book, 

DRAGON TALES

1. What first sparked the idea for this novel?

2. Share a blurb (or just an overall summary)!

3. Where does the story take place? What are some of your favorite aspects of the setting?

4. Tell us about your protagonist(s).

5. Who (or what) is the antagonist?

6. What excites you the most about this novel?

7. Is this going to be a series? standalone? something else?

8. Are you plotting? pantsing? plansting?

9. Name a few unique elements in this story.

10. Share some fun “extras” of the story (a song or full playlist, some aesthetics, a collage, a Pinterest board, a map you’ve made, a special theme you’re going to incorporate, ANYTHING you want to share!).

It is midway through September. I am almost always tired by now. Depending on what kind of school you attend, you might feel the same way. If you're out of school, it's probably a little different, but only so different.

It's very difficult to see the way ahead sometimes. It's even harder when you're tired.

Recently, I made a mistake. I delved into the internet looking for some character research, and realized just how ugly some of my own Backstory makes things for me. It can be easy to assume that because my life wasn't "as bad" or whatever, my pain is not real. So I get more and more tired as I shove that away, pretending it doesn't exist, etc.

But that's not how this game works. That's never been how I played this game.

It's really painful to look at things sometimes and realize that I'm broken. I like writing extremely broken characters--it makes the conflict more painful, it makes things harder for everyone. How painful to look at my life and realize that I'm just as bad.

I might be "well-adjusted." I might be independent and somewhat mature. But it's all a facade. It makes me tired and weary. Keeping that smile pasted to my face when the world is burning around me? It feels next to impossible sometimes.

That's why it's good that I don't have to do this alone.

I say that and it feels cliche. Why do I always keep running back?

Because without God, my life is truly empty and meaningless. What's the point of all this pain? I don't have an ending to the book. I can't just say "and then they lived happily ever after." It's a day-in, day-out affair. I'm struggling and that is life.

I need a reason.

He is the reason. The air in my lungs. He is the one who put me here, and He knew what He was doing. Even when I am tired. Even when I am aching. Even when I am broken.

I hold on.

Because He is still good.

 Hello guys! I'm back with another Agatha Locksley, Ghost Slayer adventure. This time it is in the third person because I have no continuity and no sense of reality. I hope y'all enjoy!

“The ghost has the magic lamp.” Alexander’s eyes shifted toward the cave. “Do you truly think there is something you can do to get it back?”

Agatha Locksley folded her arms and stared down the mouth of the cave. Her daughter was at home, safely stowed away with the nanny. Her husband would be on a business trip for the next six months. That gave her lots of free time for dealing with ghosts.

Unfortunately, the ghosts hadn’t come out. Until now.

“Ma’am.” Alexander was a government official, and it showed in the hurry of his clipped tone. “Can you recover the lamp?”

Agatha flapped a hand. “Of course.” She eyed the utility belt he wore. “Might I borrow that torch of yours?”

Moments later, she was in the depths of the cave, a rope tied to her waist attaching her to the railing at the top. Alexander and his crew had not followed her, but since the rope was many feet long, they’d be able to pull her out if anything happened.

She had not told them that if they were pulling her out, they’d be getting a corpse.

The cave was quite dark, and the electric torch in her hand only illuminated a circle in front of her. She walked at a rapid clip, ignoring all of the gold on each side. Stacks of chests, golden coins, and other treasure glimmered in the faint light. That was not the goal. She had no need for money.

A voice hissed in the darkness.

Agatha did not pause. She held up her torch and walked even more quickly.

The voice drifted past her, moaning the words: “Why have you come here?”

“Let me guess.” She rolled her eyes. This was quite silly. “You will curse me to wander for eternity? Is that it?”

“No. Far worse. You will—”

“Lose all my skin when you shriek because it rots off my bones? You could try being creative.” She hadn’t seen a creative ghost in years.

The ghost moaned again and swooped past her. Now she could see it—a faint mark against the darkness, completely transparent. It didn’t really have a form. That was always fun. It made things just slightly easier.

The only part of the ghost that was not transparent was the lamp dangling from its fingers. The genie’s lamp.

If the ghost rubbed the lamp and summoned the genie, it could become infinitely more powerful. Genies couldn’t bring people back to life, but it could make the ghost corporeal, give it power to actually carry out its threats.

That wasn’t very likely, because a ghost didn’t have fingers, but she’d have to figure out how to get the lamp from it without touching it herself.

She reached to her pocket for the matches.

“You’ll regret coming in here,” whispered the ghost.

Then Agatha heard it: the rattling. The avalanche.

Coins were rolling toward her in every direction, a tidal wave of gold.

Agatha reached into her pocket with an eyeroll. The coins were cascading around her feet. “This is truly the best you can muster?” she yelled.

The ghost appeared before her, still transparent, a smirk on its shadow of a face. “You die here,” it hissed.

The coins were up to Agatha’s knees. Now or never.

She struck the match and hurled it at the ghost.

The ghost went up in flames. They always did. The lamp fell from its hand, but the coins continued their rain.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Agatha seized the lamp and rubbed it. Never mind that she’d been told no one was supposed to do that. There really was no other way out of here.

The genie shot out a moment later, spinning into the sky. It was bigger than most of the ghosts she’d fought, and its tail was attached to the lamp, but that was about all she had to worry about. “WHO HAS AWOKEN ME?” it yelled, its voice filling the cave.

“Me.” Agatha waved the flashlight. “I get three wishes. I know that and I know the conditions. Make these coins stop falling on me. I wish it.”

“WHAT A WASTE OF A WISH.” The genie snapped its fingers and the coins stopped their rapid descent. “WHAT ELSE DO YOU SEEK?”

Agatha eyed the lamp. She didn’t need wealth or fame. She had fame where it mattered. There was only one thing she could use.

“I wish for more ghost-hunting cases.”

 Hey guys! I'm back with more books for your TBR (if you haven't already read them; I hope you have, because they're just that good). I have MORE indie books from the greats today and I really can't wait to rave about them! 

 Lord God,

It is difficult to watch the summer fade for the first little bit. The heat is still blazing, and our hearts long for it to end. But as the flames of orange begin to overtake the trees, I realize what this means. In wishing away the seasons, we have wished ourselves into the cold of winter.

Autumn is the transition. How gracious you are to give us a transition. A lesser creator would have simply flipped the seasons on their head, dropped us straight into the ice and cold. But you are greater than that. You have given us an entire season to function as a time of reflection. And it's beautiful. You did not just let the leaves drop in death. Their fall is beautiful, another sign of the endless cycle you have given us.

Teach us to count our days, Lord. Help us not to look at this world as an endless race. My heart so often longs for one season to end, for the next to begin. But you give every season for a purpose. And in wishing away the heat and slowness of summer, I hurl myself into the reality of cold, dark winter. This is why your plans are better than mine. Your plans will always be better than mine. Help me to remember this without getting lost in the future.

Teach us to number our moments. Each leaf that falls from the trees feels like a smaller and smaller sacrifice. Their glory fades. Their color is gone as they crunch below our feet. Like the leaves, we are temporal beings. We also will fade. But you never fade. You never grow weary or old. You are eternal, outside of time, a God as unchanging as we are changing. And yet you do not grow weary with us in our change. 

As the leaves fall from the trees and the temperatures begin to sink, let us be filled with thankfulness, and not with dread. You set this world to spin, and it spins as you created it to do. Your timing is always perfect and this world functions exactly as you command. We think we know all things. We think we know what is best. Help us to see that you and only you can create the patterns of the stars.

We live in between the spinning of planets and under the changing of solar systems. This is infinitely greater than we can understand. These bodies are so much higher and larger than we are. No matter how many zeros we place behind a number, we will never understand how big and far apart and immense the distances and spaces are. But you are greater still, and you do not leave us to the mercy of the planets. No--you set the planets spinning to your will, and used that to make us a home. All praise to you, Lord. 

Teach us to count our days and to number our moments, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Amen.

Hello, everybody! I'm back at school, so there's been a lot going on (thanks to my past self who scheduled these posts in advance, haha). I'm super busy, but part of that involves writing and editing and querying and all that jazz, so I thought I'd share a little bit about my self-editing process!

We'll be using Deal of Knives as an example (because that's the current editing project). I'm super excited to get through this one and get it to a point where it's actually good to attempt publishing. So let's get going!

Step One: Pretend Everything Is Good as I Draft.

Step Two: Have a breakdown.

Step Three: Read Back Through and Outline.

Step Four: Color code.

Step Five: Write the new chapters.

Step Six: Re-outline with the new chapters.

Step Seven: Keep rewriting through a tighter and tighter lens.

Tears filled Abby's eyes. “I can’t be what you want. I want to be…but it’s not possible.”

Mother sat down and stared at the wall. “I don’t want you to be anything but yourself,” she said, her voice flat. It wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true. Mother wanted a perfect little dancer and gymnast and ballerina. The perfect child, to be what she’d never been able to do.

It wasn’t Abby’s fault that all she’d ever wanted was to get married. It wasn’t her fault that try as she might, she still wasn’t a good enough dancer to be professional.

She was eighteen. It was time to figure out what she wanted, not what her mom wanted.

Mother was sleeping in the easy chair when Abby loaded up her jeep that night. It was a quick jaunt, a quick trip to the highway. She didn’t have a lot of things that she actually wanted to take with her—a can of extra gasoline from the garage, her books, her laptop. Really, all she wanted was to get in the car and drive as far as she possibly could.

Time to choose her own way in the world.

She got into the driver’s seat and started off, pedal to the metal, as fast as she could go.

The highway blazed by under her. Arizona was hot and the desert was endless, but she left the top down anyway, drinking several bottles of water as she went. Her phone rang a few times—Mother, probably, looking to find her before she had to go to the trouble of reporting her missing—but she ignored it.

The highway opened up in a swirl of golden light. Abby hit the brakes, hard, but not hard or soon enough. The jeep’s brakes squealed. Someone behind honked.

The swirl of light engulfed her jeep, devouring her whole.

Abby gasped for air, hanging on to the steering wheel with both hands. The road was gone. Now, instead of being in the desert, she was in a forest. A huge, dark forest. Nothing in sight besides tree trunks.

Abby swallowed hard. “Hello?”

This was not how today had been supposed to go.

Her Jeep’s gas still worked, she discovered when she hit it. But with this many trees and no road, that didn’t feel like a very safe course of action. Abby got out of the Jeep and started walking, searching around for any sign of life.

There was nothing.

Finally she saw it: a tiny billow of smoke, out there in the darkness between trees.

Abby walked slowly toward the smoke. It’s coming from a tiny cabin nestled in the woods, made of logs. The shutters are painted bright green, and ivy grew over the walls. The whole place looked cozy and inviting.

Abby raised both fists. That was exactly the kind of place where a kidnapper would live. She’d read Hansel and Gretel. She might not be any good at fighting, but she could turn some flips and do some jumps if she needed to.

The door opened and a creature emerged. 

Abby shrieked and raised both fists. It wasn’t human. It was far smaller, only up to her knee, small enough that she could have picked it up and thrown it.

It screamed, too, a loud scream so shrill it could have shattered glass.

Abby grabbed it before she could stop herself and raised the thing over her head. It was a very small man, with a long white beard. Joke was on them. She’d read Snow White, too.

“Wait!” the thing shrieked. “Wait!”

She paused, but left him raised above her head. “Talk fast, thing,” she growled. “I’m not in the mood to play around.”

“What are you?” the thing asked.

“What am I?” Abby laughed out loud. “What are you?” 

“But it is a valid question! You are so big.”

“You’re so small! I was just driving on the highway and then I got pulled through…a portal or something? I don’t want to be here! I was on my way to Phoenix!”

“To Phoenix?” The thing’s tone brightened. “Set me down! I must fetch my brothers!”

Abby kept her hands raised. “No! Absolutely not. You’re not fetching anyone.”

“Too late,” the thing said, far more cheerful. “I am Loris, should it matter. And you are?”

“I’m not saying.” This thing already had too many ideas.

The door to the house opened. Abby’s jaw dropped as ten more tiny creatures, the same size as the one she held prisoner, swarmed out onto the lawn. Their shrill cries filled the air, and she set Loris down so she could cover her ears.

“It’s her!” Loris shrieked.

“Someone tell me what’s going on!” Abby yelled back.

Loris cleared his throat and raised a hand. The shrieking ended. Thank goodness. Abby rubbed her sore ears.

“Legend has it that a girl will come from another world. She will be on a quest for the great phoenix and be fleeing the way things were to form her own destiny. Does that sound like you?”

Abby swallowed hard. “Yeah, it does.” SHe didn’t want another destiny. She was her own person—she had to be. “Do I have something I’m supposed to do? Is there a…quest to fulfill? I don’t want it, if there is.”

The things exchanged glances. Whispers filled the air. After a moment, Loris shrugged.

“The quest is of your choosing,” he said finally. “All we must do is help you get to the city.”

A quest that she got to choose. In a different world entirely.

Abby smiled.

“Where do we go?” she asked. “Let me get my Jeep.”

 Can anyone believe it's about to be my SENIOR YEAR OF COLLEGE? I certainly can't. It's insane to sit down and consider that I'm about to finish the biggest and most expensive undertaking of my life.

I've kind of gone into most semesters flying blind at school. I'm really bad at being intentional with my school, so I'm setting exactly 5 goals for the semester. There's one for each of the main categories of my life. They're kind of the big five: Academic, Spiritual, Physical, Emotional, Financial. (We all have these, although next semester I suspect I'll have to add another category: career. That feels wildly vomit inducing and I hate the idea, but there's only so much a girl can do to keep herself from getting a job).

Let's talk about my goals! 

1. Academic: Finish Senior Fall with a 4.0 GPA (FOR THE SEMESTER).

2. Spiritual: Start going to adult Sunday School and doing one other church thing per week at school.

3. Physical: 3 workout plan every week.

4. Emotional: actual willingness to change when it comes to therapy/cousnseling/etc.

5. Financial: stop obsessing over money.

 Hey guys! Life update going out on my newsletter very soon, so I'd recommend subscribing to that if you haven't! 

 Hello. My name is Faith, and I am terrible at being honest.

That might be a weird way to intro a post. You folks might be confused by it. But I want to say it. I need to say it. I am terrible at honesty in my writing.

For so long, my goal has been honesty in storytelling. I want my books to tell the story of reality as it truly is. I want the books I write to be valuable because they are real and honest and speak to something very deep in the world. I want their themes to matter and touch people's souls.

But I can't even be honest with myself half the time in my books.

Who am I? Who is the person who wrote those books? I'm not sure I know. But what I do know is this: My books are valuable and they are full of truth. 

Just a few ways I have encountered truth in this art form, ways I've found to slip pieces of a higher Something into my words:

• Pentegreens: one of the main themes is the weak being made strong. Kindness and love can save all things--but GOODNESS they are hard to actually attain. There is a scene with a dream of peace, one that does not remove all of the pain already faced, but which washes over the MC.
• Watched: can you hold onto anything that does not matter? Can you hold onto what matters when everyone in the entire world is against you?
• Holding Up the Sky: love is important. Love is the thing that holds all things together, and the gifts we've been given as creatives help keep the world together.

Christian fiction is a difficult genre to find real gems in. I love, love, love me a good fantasy novel with lots of deep symbolism, though. If I find one I love? Oh, baby. We are golden.

Since I know there are lots of y'all out here who don't want to settle for sickly sweet "clean" romance or hammer-fisted sermons...I wanted to assemble a list. Some great fantasy books await, all of them chock-full of gorgeous imagery, allegory, themes and characters. They're not great because they are written by Christians, but rather because of what they say about the King.

Let's get right into it!

Because you can't do this without SOME classics...here it is! MacDonald himself was a bit of a questionable individual, and you'll notice some whackadoo symbolism in many of his books. This one, however, was designed for small children, and therefore is just beautiful. I read it for my C.S. Lewis seminar for a project, and the influences on Lewis' works, especially the Chronicles of Narnia, is blatant. If you're looking for a quick but joyful read, I strongly recommend this children's story.

The GOAT himself for Christian writing, Lewis went truly all out on this novel. It is easily the greatest of his works, and I've already read it twice. It sticks out to me every time I read it, and I've annotated the heck out of my copy. It's an absolutely gorgeous symbolism about how our feeble attempts to create gods for ourselves can never satisfy--but if we actually get even a glimpse at His back, the entire world begins to make a semblance of sense. I could write pages and pages and pages about this book, and I have in the past (haha) but I will save that for academia and just say: READ THIS BOOK.

This series, y'all. I'm only putting the first one here, but the whole series is incredible and I wish more people were talking about it at this point. I don't think any series has ever had THIS much of a chokehold on my imagination. I could never write a book this beautiful. The first book is very heavy-handed allegorically (but still immaculately beautiful). After that, it's a little more subtle, but still gorgeous and tear-inducing. I am begging you, if you love fantasy and you're a Christian, read these. (Read them even if you aren't a Christian or if you don't love fantasy. Artwork like this is like lightning--it only strikes occasionally).

While this book is less heavy on the Christian elements, it's still an absolutely beautiful picture of redemption and hope. The family in this story is truly incredible, and I haven't encountered many stories that are this gritty and real about the healing required from years of trauma. A good Christian book understands that healing is not overnight or instantaneous--it takes work, and this duology is a beautiful depiction of that in all its intricacy.

This is more of a contemporary and also an adult novel. It's actually a really hard book to describe--it hurts a lot to read, and it's incredibly dark at times, but it's a very good book with lots of beautiful symbolism and some very blatant light in darkness. There's a vaguely devil-ish character, a character who serves as something of a Christ figure, an unreliable narrator who's also ten years old... you name it. It's truly amazing. I've had the privilege of reading this one for a novel-writing class and I absolutely loved it.

This one is a very fun fantasy adventure with a lot of tropes and a beautiful group of characters with siblings and marriage of convenience and more. And assassins. DREAM assassins. If y'all haven't read this one, you should. It's so good and the trilogy is amazing--the books just get better as they go. And I need y'all to understand just how amazing the love interest is.

What are your favorite Christian books? Does anyone have a recommendation for me? Drop your favorites in the comments below!

 

Okay guys it is that time again! I keep losing my train of thought and ending up with something totally random on these stories, but this one is possibly the first in a series and I love it immensely. I wrote the whole thing in about 20 minutes so I apologize profusely for the quality, but HERE YA GO:

 

GUYYYYYS oops I. Did it again.

*channels Britney for about one second before puking*

Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, MY NEW BOOK! Guys, I'm so so so stoked to reveal the working title and blurb for my WIP/the book I just finished! So without further ado: let's get RIGHT into this and talk about my book, which I wrote from May-June! (Not as impressive as it sounds--it is not very long, haha).

Traitor, Traitor

He's trying to find his brother. She wants to avenge hers. If they're going to succeed, they'll have to trust each other--but out here, trust can be deadly.

Miranda's brother went missing a year ago on the Mountain, a place where all kinds of crimes are completely legal. Outside the jurisdiction of the Courts, the Killing Mountain is a place rife with crime, where murderers get off scot-free...as long as they don't get caught by the vigilantes who seek their own form of justice. And then there are the blood traders to contend with, sworn to a non-lethal code, but willing to resort to violence to stop people from reaching the Mountain in the first place.

Miranda is not afraid of vigilantes or traders. She will have justice for her brother's death, come what may. But when she meets Joseph--a pacifist who just wants to reach the other side of the Mountain--her world is shaken. Throw in a blue-eyed stalker and a woman who loves shooting as much as she loves silks, and Miranda has far more than she signed up for. Trusting Joseph may be her only way out...unless Joseph is the killer himself.

About 60k-ish words

Fantasy thriller

Probably best described as The English (miniseries) meets The Scorpio Races meets real-world Yellowstone National Park with LOTS of Western tropes

I love this book so much, y'all. It's very different from anything else I've ever written--more Western than fantasy, not very character-driven, and no wars at all. This is a quest for vengeance--or is it justice? Hard to tell when the lines get this blurred.

Without further ado: My characters!