Query and first 500 contest

Today there is a fun contest. Sharon over at The Blue Word is hosting Wilde's Fire Editor Judged Contest. Krystal Wade, author of Wilde's Fire and editor for Curiosity Quills Acquisitions Editor for Young Adult will be hopping around and putting in a request for any that tickle her fancy.Here is my entry.

Query:

GENRE: YA high fantasy

TITLE: UNYIELDING

Dear Ms. Wade,

When Gabe’s best friend is kidnapped, he will risk everything to save him, even if it means starting an intergalactic war.

Gabe is seventeen, clumsy, and as hot-headed as a match. Lightning powers and a short fuse aren’t exactly a good combination. But when his parents are murdered and his best friend Rhet is kidnapped by the mayor of Shaoc, Gabe’s anger and power are exactly what he needs for rescue and revenge. It might also be his undoing.

On his quest Gabe meets a pint-sized woman with warrior skills. When she saves him from an assassin he finds a very useful ally. They flee the over-populated, high-tech city to a hidden cave she calls home. What Gabe didn't know was that her home is full of misfit teens she's rescued, each with their own powers and tragic story of the mayor’s reign. They are planning a rebellion and Gabe must learn to wield a sword and fight if he is ever to save Rhet, but he can’t stop fighting against these intergalactic strays long enough to fight along-side of them. In this cave full of emotionally damaged teens it is hard to differentiate friend from foe. A crush threatens to distract, and a betrayal might end them all.

Time is running out for Rhet. War is inevitable.

UNYIELDING is a YA high fantasy and is complete at 62,000 words. It is a cross between I am Number Four by Pittacus Lore and Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. The first chapter of UNYIELDING has been published as a fantasy flash fiction excerpt on an agent’s blog, Sarah LaPolla’s- Glass Cases. http://bigglasscases.blogspot.com/2012/05/unyielding.htm

l

* * *

Glass shattered, piercing the silence of night. Gabe leapt from bed in a state of panic and his blankets tackled him to the floor. Flailing around, he wrestled unsuccessfully with the materials. Pins and needles pricked in his palms. Not again! He froze and took a slow breath, trying to settle his anxiety to keep from setting his covers ablaze. His power calmed.

He broke free and sprang up. What was that? Gabe stared at his open door, searching for signs of movement beyond his room.

The house slept. Silent.

Good, it was just a dream.

No sooner had the thought entered his mind, a shadow dashed through his door. Before there was time to react to the potential danger, she was at his side, arms outstretched.

“Sis…” he said, exhaling a deep breath. “Why are you out of bed?” He bent over and picked up his frightened, little sister.

“The noise scared me,” Kyla whimpered, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and throwing her arms about his neck.

She heard it too! His throat clenched shut. What should I do? Did Mom and Dad hear it?

He attempted to lower the six-year-old to the ground, but she squeezed tighter, moaning.

Suddenly the house shook, booming as if a rocket had barreled through the living room. A scream shot up the stairs.

Mom!

Kyla cried out. Gabe clasped his hand to her mouth and darted to the safety of his closet. He pealed her from his waist, placed her on the ground and began ripping shirts from their hangers in a frantic effort to hide her. “I’m going to see what’s happening,” he whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“No,” she bellowed, trying to wiggle out from her shelter.

“I’ll be right back.” He hoped. “But I need you to stay here.”

He finished packing her in then knelt. Her deep, brown eyes streamed with tears, stabbing his heart with each droplet. He longed for words to comfort her, but what do you say to a six-year-old in a time like this? “You can’t make a sound no matter what you hear.” He gulped, fighting the tears. “Okay?”

She nodded somberly, grabbing the nearest shirt to wipe her nose.

He kissed her forehead, whispered, “I love you,” and scurried out of the small closet, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Slowly he crept out of his room and down the hall, avoiding each creak in the floor by memory as he made his way to the top of the staircase.

He made it a few steps down when-

“Gabriyel,” a man’s voice called to him.

His eyes shot wide. Who? Nobody called him by his full name. How did this person know it was him?

“I’m glad you finally worked up the courage to join us,” the voice taunted. “Please come and sit with your parents?”

“NO!” his mother screeched.

At the sound of her anguish Gabe sprang into action, forgetting his fears.

Wilde's Fire Editor judged contest

Today there is a fun and helpful bloghop. Sharon over at The Blue Word is hosting Wilde's Fire Editor Judged Contest. You post your query and first 500 words, then hop around and comment on the other entries.....THEN on the 28th you get to repost with any changes that may have been suggested and the editor for Wilde's Fire will come around and judge/ possibly pick any entries she likes and put in a request. Sounds like fun, right? Here's my entry :)


GENRE: YA high fantasy

TITLE: UNYIELDING 

When Gabe’s best friend is kidnapped, he will risk everything to save him, even if it means starting an intergalactic war.

Gabe is seventeen, clumsy, and as hot-headed as a match. Lightning powers and a short fuse aren’t exactly a good combination. But when his parents are murdered and his best friend Rhet is kidnapped by the mayor of Shaoc, Gabe’s anger and power are exactly what he needs for rescue and revenge. It might also be his undoing.

On his quest Gabe meets a pint-sized woman with warrior skills. When she saves him from an assassin he finds a very useful ally.  They flee the over-populated, high-tech city to a hidden cave she calls home. What Gabe didn't know was that her home is full of misfit teens she's rescued, each with their own powers and tragic story of the mayor’s reign. They are planning a rebellion and Gabe must learn to yield a sword and fight if he is ever to save Rhet, but he can’t stop fighting against these intergalactic strays long enough to fight along-side of them. In this cave full of emotionally damaged teens it is hard to differentiate friend from foe. A crush threatens to distract, and a betrayal might end them all.

Time is running out for Rhet. War is inevitable.

UNYIELDING is a YA high fantasy and is complete at 62,000 words. It is a cross between I am Number Four by Pittacus Lore and Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. The first chapter of UNYIELDING has been published as a fantasy flash fiction excerpt on an agent’s blog, Sarah LaPolla’s- Glass Cases. http://bigglasscases.blogspot.com/2012/05/unyielding.htm

l

*             *             *

Glass shattered, piercing the silence of night. Gabe leapt from bed in a state of panic and his blankets tackled him to the floor. Flailing around, he wrestled unsuccessfully with the materials.

Pins and needles pricked in his palms.  Not again!  He froze and took a slow breath, trying to settle his anxiety to keep from setting his covers ablaze. His power calmed. 

He broke free and sprang up. What was that?  Gabe stared at his open door, searching for signs of movement beyond his room. 

The house slept.  Silent.

Good, it was just a dream. 

No sooner had the thought entered his mind, a shadow dashed through his door.  Before there was time to react to the potential danger, she was at his side, arms outstretched.

“Sis…” he said, exhaling a deep breath.  “Why are you out of bed?”  He bent over and picked up the frightened, little girl.

“The noise scared me,” Kyla whimpered, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and throwing her arms about his neck.

She heard it too!  His throat clenched shut. What should I do?  Did Mom and Dad hear it?    

He attempted to lower the six-year-old to the ground, but she squeezed tighter, moaning.

Suddenly the house shook, booming as if a rocket had barreled through the living room.  A scream shot up the stairs.

Mom!

Kyla cried out.  Gabe clasped his hand to her mouth and darted to the safety of his closet. He pealed her from his waist, placed her on the ground and began ripping shirts from their hangers in a frantic effort to hide her.  “I’m going to see what’s happening,” he whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“No,” she bellowed, trying to wiggle out from her shelter.

“I’ll be right back.”  He hoped.  “But I need you to stay here.” 

He finished packing her in then knelt.  Her deep, brown eyes streamed with tears, stabbing his heart with each droplet.  He longed for words to comfort her, but what do you say to a six-year-old in a time like this?  “You can’t make a sound no matter what you hear.”  He gulped, fighting the tears.  “Okay?”  

She nodded somberly, grabbing the nearest shirt to wipe her nose. 

He kissed her forehead, whispered, “I love you,” and scurried out the small closet, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

Slowly he crept out his room and down the hall, avoiding each creek in the floor by memory as he made his way to the top of the staircase. 

He made it a few steps down when-

“Gabriyel,” a man’s voice called to him.

His eyes shot wide.  Who? Nobody called him by his full name.  How did this person know it was him?

“I’m glad you finally worked up the courage to join us,” the voice taunted.  “Please come and sit with your parents?”

“NO!” his mother screeched.

At the sound of her anguish Gabe sprang into action, forgetting his fears. 

How is your WIP coming along?

Okay so I don't feel like writing at this very moment and I have nothing in my inbox to critique....so it looks like blogging for me :)

I know I hardly ever post, but I'm hoping when this WIP is complete I will be able to mingle a little better.

So, this is the part where I ramble :) 

(I'm the curly headed one if you couldn't tell:)
My current WIP- my memoirs, is the first story that I have ever written in first person, and I love it! I'm enjoying channeling my inner fifteen year old self. I can tell that my writing is stronger and I finally have voice! In my previous wip I wrote in third person, and though the plot and characters are pretty solid, that sassy, witty voice has always been something I struggle with. I'm more poetic than witty. BUT my fifteen year old self was sassy, mouthy, feisty, and as quick to throw a punch as she was to land a kiss. I had forgotten her, and it is a blast finding her again. Here are some clips

I see Officer Douche-bag typing into his computer as we walk past. No doubt he’s writing in his report how uncooperative I was; how I’m a damaged girl with issues who just wants attention.
What I want is to spit in his face. I settle for a glare and a mental middle finger. Bye Jerk.
                                                   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

What if the jury doesn’t believe me either? There is a very real possibility that my rapist could one

day be set free. The only comfort I find in that knowledge is that I now know his name. If he is ever

set free, I will have no choice but to hunt him down and kill him. Even if this lands me in prison,

even if he kills me instead. I simply cannot live in a world where he walks the streets.

                                                ~~~   ~~~   ~~~
I look at Brian and he is wide eyed. It’s clear he has been awake longer than me, but how long? Did I

snore? Was I drooling? I am a notorious sleep drooler.



These are just a few snippets....what about you? Have you found your voice?  Have you found that story that is flowing as easily as water? Tell me about your current WIP.

ummm....so....I kind of need a cp...anyone interested?

Okay, so....ummm, I'm in need of a cp. Which is scary. This is my third novel in less than a year, so I am a very dedicated writer and I am looking for the same in that special cp. In the past, when I found my other cp, I swapped first chapters with three people, but in the end I felt 2 of the 3 weren't at the same level as me. Which I know sounds horrible- but I wanted to be paired with someone who I felt their story was something that could get published. If I'm going to dedicate my time, I want it to be on something and someone I truly believe in....so have I scared you away yet? No? You're still reading and possibly interested? Who-hoo! Well then, let me tell you about my current WIP. It is a YA narrative memoir...now before you vomit in your mouth because you hate non-fiction as much as I do, let me just say that this story will read like fiction. I still struggle with the limitations a memoir has and I want to put it as fiction- I think I could easily sell it that way, but it is more powerful for people to know this IS A TRUE STORY. So before you cast me aside into the boring non-fiction category, let me share a few sneak peaks, then if you still think it isn't a good match you can ignore this and I will never know! :) If you are interested just leave me a comment with your email and we can swap a chapter or two and see if we match :)

What you can expect from me- a detailed eye, I'm fairly good with grammar, but my strengths are plot and pace. I will be quick to say "I'm getting bored." But it is in a helping tone always!!!

My weaknesses are character building, and voice. Example- at the end of my story I was told to add some chapters, and build a little more on the relationships. (So if those are your strengths then we might make a good pair :)

So are you still here??? Good, let's continue

Quick Query for PERFECTLY BROKEN (I'm writing this on the spot so it may be rough)-

Time seems to stop right before you die. Amber Harville knows this all too well. When she is kidnapped and raped at fifteen, she just knows her captor's next step is to murder her. She is prepped and ready to put up one last fight, ready to claw his face off when he tries to kill her. Her hope is that when they find her dead body there will be enough DNA under her fingernails to find her killer. She never imagined he'd dump her out of the car with the threat of "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

His first mistake was choosing her as his victim, his second was in letting her go. She immediately flees to the nearest house and they call the police. Three days later he is caught. But the damage has already been done and Amber begins to spiral out of control.

Her family and friends have no clue how to help, so she seeks refuge in her church hoping to find something to fill the void inside. Her Youth Pastor introduces her to a personal relationship with Christ. Having been a 'Sunday only' Christian, reading the bible on her own time is something new to her. She finds comfort there in the black and white, which is full of suffering, something she can relate to.

With an impending trial around the corner it seems impossible to escape her nightmares, no matter how close she draws to God. A summer foreign exchange program which sends her to Spain is exactly what she needs- an escape. A gorgeous Spanish boy awaking her heart is the last thing she wants- a distraction.


Sooo, are you still here??? Great! If you're interested, leave a comment saying so. (Feel free to comment even if you aren't interested- I won't bite :)

You can find examples of my writing all over this blog- in the tabs, posts titled- How God walked me through the fire, and the various bloghop posts.

Fun things today

Who-hoo, a few fun announcements :)

First is that Sarah LaPolla, literary agent at Curtis Brown, has posted my first chapter of UNYIELDING as a piece of fantasy flash ficiton on her blog!!! I know you all have probably read that chapter from other posts, but I would so appreciate it if you hopped over and wrote a comment! You can find it at GLASS CASES. And if you aren't already following Ms. LaPolla- you should be, she's always posting things us writers should know and learn about the craft.

Next up is a mixer. I totally wish it was an in-person, real life mixer, but alas, it is a blog mixer- still ubber fun though- if you show up :) The wonderful ladies over at Falling For Fiction are hosting a beta and critique partner mixer. Hop over if you are in need of either, post what you write and what you are looking for, then mingle and see if anyone is a good fit :) Sound like fun? I thought so...I've already added my post. Come and check it out Beta & Cp Mixer.

Thanks for stopping by, hope to see you hopping around today :)

~Amber~

How God carried me through the fire (Wildflowers from winter bloghop)

Since I have another bloghop/contest Thurs. and Friday, I am going to post this Wildflowers from winter post a day early. This is a bloghop to glorify God and I am excited to be a part of it. Currently I am writing my memoir about how God walked me through the fire, and how I learned to trust Him. This story begins with the first three pages of my WIP. I hope my story will help other teenagers who are suffering to learn to turn to God and His word. And so here is a first glance of my current work in progress......(every word is true)

 

 

PERFECTLY BROKEN

ONE

Survival

I know at any moment he’ll kill me. His scorching breath lingers on my neck. His odor is embedded in my nose. The rape keeps replaying in my mind, torturing me over and over again.

I’m not sure if my heart is still beating. Everything in me has shut off. I’m numb. All I can think about is that I have to keep it together—this isn’t over yet. 

He holds my head twisted into an impossible headlock with my body tangled across the front seat of his car. The engine growls to life as he turns the key. The seats rock back and forth over a bumpy road then it steadies. I wish I could figure out where I am, but with every turn I feel the vehicle make, I’m even more lost than I was before.

He drives with one hand while his other is clenched around my jaw—as if this is easy. My face is smothered into his stomach and with each breath I inhale his shirt, slowly suffocating. I can’t open my eyes. They aren’t something I control anymore. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see what he’s done to me.

There’s a professional way about his strength. He knew exactly how to subdue me, and quickly, like he’s done this before. Methodical, calculated, professional. Military crosses my mind.

I don’t know how long he’s had me in his clutches. Maybe an hour.  

Time doesn’t exist.

Why am I still alive? He’s already raped me, what more—I stop myself. I won’t go there. I won’t think about how he plans to kill me. I’m certain I won’t live much longer, but there is one thing I can do, if escaping is out of the question. I’m ready. I won’t be going home to my family tonight, but I will send them my killer, my rapist—or rather, his DNA buried beneath my fingernails when they find my dead body. I’m prepared to strike at the first sign he’s done with me. I know the second I claw his face off he’ll end my life. So I wait, patiently, for him to try to kill me. I’ll put up one last fight—one he won’t easily walk away from. 

The car stops. This is the moment.

He lets go of my head and snarls, “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” then reaches across me and thrusts open the door.

I see my escape and move so quickly I topple out backwards onto the curb.  

Daylight is almost gone, granting me just enough luminescence to see my surroundings. Houses dot the quiet neighborhood. Cars drive past unconcerned with me lying on the sidewalk. The world is still here, unaffected.

I’m stunned, motionless. I’m alive. I can’t believe he let me go. None of it seems real. 

 

I catch his black eyes on me as if he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. It snaps me back.

Rocketing up, I bolt in the opposite direction of the car like my feet are on fire. Not once do I look back. I have no idea if he’s driven off or if he’s pursuing me. All I know is this isn’t the movies and I’m not going to be that stupid girl who looks back and trips. I just run. Running is one thing I do well. There’s no way he’s catching me. 

I don’t know if I’m bleeding or if bones are broken. Everything is numb. It’s probably for the best. I can’t even feel my feet hitting the sidewalk, but I see the world flying past so I know my legs must be working. 

I have no clue where I am. I don’t recognize anything. The closest house is a small sky-blue ranch with concrete steps. I barrel up the stairs like my life depends on it and pound my fists into the door. “Please—” I whimper, my eyes flooding. Seconds feel like hours. Why isn’t anyone opening the door?

Terrified to be still and so vulnerable, and needing to know where he is, I dare a glance. I just know he’s gotten out to chase me and I’ll have to abandon this attempt at a rescue and flee to the next house. 

The road is empty. 

Oxygen floods my lungs. I gasp, allowing myself to suck in rapid gulps of relief. He’s gone. It’s over.

*             *             *

I was fifteen when I was kidnapped and raped by a stranger. To say my life changed forever would be an understatement. It was more like an atomic bomb went off inside my soul, destroying everything.

That night I spent hours at the police station being interrogated like I was the criminal, then more hours at the hospital being poked and prodded like a lab rat, and yes, in that order. Why they thought it was okay to harass me for hours before getting me medical treatment I’ll never know.

By the time I finally got home it was in the early hours of the next morning. Though I hadn’t been living like one, I was a Christian, and the second I was alone I fell to my knees and prayed. I had already known the loss of a best friend to a terminal disease, and the abandonment of an abusive father, so suffering wasn’t something new, but for the first time I asked God for a favor.

I sobbed out loud, “I know there is a reason why you chose me for this, but please show me why. I’m not sure I can ever heal if I don’t know why.” I knew it was a sin to ask for such things. Who was I to question God? But He knew my heart, and my pain, and I hoped that was enough to forgive such a demand.

The next three days were a living hell; nightmares; disabling-fear anytime I attempted to go into public. I knew for sure since I’d gone to the police that man would come back and finish me off. It was on the third day that my living nightmare came to an end. One of the officers assigned to my case came to see me and showed me a line-up of six pictures. I didn’t need to look at them all, the man that raped me was the fourth one.  They had caught this monster and I could finally stop looking over my shoulder. But now what was I supposed to do with this hurt inside? Life had chipped away at me, and finally I had crumbled to dust. I was hollow.

Every adult was clueless as to how to deal with me. I could feel their eyes boring into the back of my head in church, tragic eyes that darted away from my glance. I swear I could hear all of their thoughts and whispers. ‘Did you hear what happened to Amber? So sad and so young.’ ‘Yeah, but, you know she was always the wild one of the bunch. It’s lucky she didn’t go and get herself killed.’ Guess that was one problem with the church I was being raised in- everyone seemed to know my troubles, but no one knew how to fix me.

My youth pastor was different.  His eyes didn’t hold pity or judgment, but something else that I couldn’t quite place. He asked to speak to me one day after youth group, and I accepted. He asked how I was dealing with the situation. I told him I wasn’t. Then he told me the smartest thing an adult had ever said to me, (and why in my fifteen years I hadn’t heard this I do not know). I live by those very words still today. He said, “I wish I could give you the answers, but I have none. All I can tell you is the answers are in here.” And he placed his hand on the bible. Being a ‘Sunday only’ Christian, the bible was not something I read outside of church, but he’d peaked my interest. He sent me home with the task of reading the book of JOB. He said I’d tackle the rest of the bible later, but for now he thought JOB would be a good place for me to start. (PSALM 34:4- I sought the Lord, and he heard me and delivered me from my fears.)

I devoured every word that night, and for good measure I read it again. Still questions plagued me, like ‘Why would God put Job through such a harsh test if he was such a good man?’ And so I’d sit and talk to my youth leader and in doing so, I found my first Christian mentor. We didn’t meet often, or ever talk for very long, but after youth group, we’d chat. He seemed to genuinely care for my state of well-being, and was passionate about Christ. He always made sure the door to the room where we met was open wide, and always sat at a respectful distance. There was an unspoken understanding that I was a wounded animal and any sudden movements would cause me to strike with vengeance. But his intentions were pure, and those actions were never needed. All he wanted was to steer me on the right path.

I began to read the bible and got myself right with God. I learned that the bible was full of amazing stories of suffering and redemption, tragedies and triumphs. God never promised life would be easy, he only promised we’d never have to walk through the fire alone. I knew I needed Jesus front and center, but I also needed to be faithful to Him as well. I talked with Jesus through prayer, and He spoke back to me through His word. And slowly but surely, I began to walk with Christ. A fire began to stir inside my soul, a strength that had never been there. Not only was God mending my pieces together, he was building me stronger than I had ever been before.

So here’s the part you’ve been waiting for- How did God carry me through this? Where was He and why did He allow this to happen?

Well it turned out the man who raped me was a serial rapist. I was his third victim in just months and each rape had escalated, becoming more violent. The first victim (that we know of) was a date rape who waited days to come forward and had no physical evidence by the time she did. Still a horrible crime, but her case was weak. The second victim was lured out of a night club to look at his vehicle that he was selling and then raped outside the parking lot. Sadly her case was weak as well.

By the time he got to me he was a pro and had escalated to full on kidnapping- of a minor. The others were in their twenties. Not that raping an adult isn’t terrible, but raping a minor comes with even more charges, and I’d like to think, a special place reserved in hell.

All of us victims had the same state-appointed lawyer. I was never allowed to meet the others because they couldn’t risk us chatting and the defender saying we had coerced our stories, but I knew the prosecutor was counting on my case to put him away for good.

One day she asked me, “How are you so strong? How do you keep it together?” She told me the other women were in their twenties and could barely get out a word without crying their eyes out. And here I was just fifteen, and so strong-hearted.

I didn’t know how to answer her. It caught me off guard because no-one had ever called me 'strong' before, but the truth was- God had given me peace through prayer and study and I wasn’t broken anymore. I no longer felt like a victim. I felt like a warrior. (EPHESIANS 6:11-Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.) God chose me because he wanted that man off the streets. God knew I was strong-spirited, he knew I’d fight, and go straight to the police, and I’d do everything I could to make sure that man would never be able to hurt another woman.

I truly believe that man would have murdered the next woman. But I can proudly say I was his last victim. (PSALM 25:2- Oh my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.)

We went to court one year after the rape and he was found guilty by a jury on all accounts and sentenced to 66 years in prison for the crimes he committed against me! (That doesn’t include the 30+ years he got in a later trial for the other women). He got 1 year for larceny (he stole a chain from around my neck), 25 years for the abduction, and 40 years for the rape- that’s the maximum for rape if you didn’t know.

Now I’m not going to say there aren't still scars from the rape, like- if you approach me while I’m walking to my car you will get seriously jacked up. And yes, that is a blade on my key ring, so if you value your jugular you will keep a safe distance.


(You know in the movie 'RED EYE' there is a scene where the bad guy is taunting the mc on a plane. And she says, "There's one thing I've told myself since that day I was raped." And he says, "That it wasn't your fault." (because that is what most people would assume she was thinking). She says, "No. That it'll never happen again." Then she jams a pen into his throat and runs. I wanted to jump out of my seat and shout, "Hell yeah, girl!") 


The church I attend now is an amazing, biblical church. The bible is taught in depth there and I know that is exactly where I am supposed to be. I have a beautiful, blonde curly-haired, blue-eyed boy who is soon to be four and looks just like me, and a perfect, brown headed, blue-eyed girl who will soon be two and is the spitting image of her daddy. My husband is kind-hearted and patient, and we have a perfectly healthy marriage and are happily raising our family in a Godly church. (It is hard to find a Godly church- one that relies on the word of God over man). (JOHN 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.)


On Sundays when the pastor tells us the message and says things like- “I don’t have the answer, but I promise they are in this book.” -and he holds up the bible, I am reminded of that time so many years ago when I was guided toward THE ONLY TRUTH in life. I smile because I know God is still there, holding my hand, saying, “I’ve got something else I need you to do for me, Amber...”


Currently Jesus is walking me through a small fire. Deciding to become a Christian author was terrifying and is a constant, humbling battle. But submitting to God’s will in my life is rewarding, no matter what struggles it may bring. I have yet to find an agent or publish anything, but I know as long as Jesus is front and center, everything else will happen when God is ready for it to. My feet are planted firmly and my faith will withstand the tests of this life.


Thank you so much for reading my story. And because music is such a huge part of how I worship I will leave you with another song that is dear to my heart.

~Amber~