This’ll be a short one. Yesterday I got some new medication and it’s making me very sleepy. It’s also sucked all energy out of me, so I’m condensing everything I was planning on saying in this update to the most important bits πŸ™‚

I’ve set myself a publication date! If all goes well, Rise of the Sparrows, Relics of Ar’Zac Book One, will be out on the 23rd May! I hope I’ve left enough time for the beta readers and the editor to go over everything, but that’s what I’m aiming for. Also, now that it’s official, I’ve got all the more reason to work my butt off to make it happen πŸ™‚ Mark it in your calenders, guys!!!

mascot 5
The mascot helped me with my writing prompts this week!

This week I’ve been adding chapters to the draft which have popped up as I was doing the first edit. It’s going well so far and everything will be added by Tuesday next week. I’ll go over everything again after that and hopefully, around the middle to the end of February, I’ll be able to call for beta readers.

A big thank you to everyone who’s read and commented on Bray’s little story this week. I won’t be developing it further into something more, but in two weeks time I’ve got another short serial for you, which might well stand better chances… But more on that closer to the time πŸ™‚

That’s it for this week – only the excerpt left to go!

Enjoy πŸ™‚

β€œI grew up in a small farm town on the other end of Rifarne. My parents were farmers, my sister is two years younger than me. Only Ailis has inherited their gift, but my mother’s grandfather was a great wizard. Apparently. Four times a year Arlo would visit my parents. They were great at growing crops but they loved to eat meat, too. Red meat in particular was expensive back then, and they could never save enough money to buy it for us. Arlo has been a hunter since he was ten, and brought them deer, pigs and other meats for a much smaller fee then the local merchants offered. That’s how I met Arlo. Barnaby was a present from him, later. One summer some men came. I remember their approach to our farm. They came on black horses, in black armour, waving a flag as red as blood behind them as they rode up to our house, burning my parents’ labour as they went. They were the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. I thought death had come for us. Was right, too. Our mother told me to take my sister and run. Dad held the back door open so we could slip out undetected. I’d never run so hard in my life, but I have done many times since then.”


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