Today I’m pleased to welcome my first return guest. Her first guest post, which you can find here, is the third most viewed guest post on this site as of 10:45 CST on November 10, 2013 (in other words, I just checked), and believe me, the two ahead of her are stiff competition. She is also the most frequent commenter on this blog, other than myself. Of course I’m speaking about Erin Albert. Her book, The Prophecy, comes out Friday (it’s available for pre-order here), and she’s excited to tell you about it to entice the few of you who haven’t pre-ordered it to drop the $4.40. She’s sent along two excerpts, a blurb, and a bio to go along with the blog post which finally explains how she is the only person I know who has successfully pulled 26 hours out of a day.
First of all, I want to give a big shout out and virtual hug to my book brother, Eric, for hosting me today!! His book Unveiling the Wizard’s Shroud comes out November 22, so be sure to check it out!! Fantasy novels ROCK!
Eric asked me to give a little bit of information about my writing process. If you dare, enter the inner workings of my mind… 😉
What am I working on?
I am always working on multiple projects. Currently, I am revising the sequel, The Outlanders, to my young adult fantasy debut novel, The Prophecy (which releases November 15). I also have a futuristic thriller called Number 25598, a middle grade fiction in the vein of Judy Blume called Meet Kit: An American Boy, and another young adult fantasy novel without a title—all in progress.
Why do I write what I do?
I write young adult books because I LOVE young adult books. My friend and Dream Team member Danielle Craver (she created all of the crest for The Prophecy) got me hooked on the YA genre, and I’ve read that almost exclusively ever since. Epic high fantasy appeals to me because I’ve always loved Arthurian legend. When George R.R. Martin combined that time period with fantastical elements, my mind sprung to life. Reading fantasy allows a person to fully immerse in a totally different world, escaping this one completely. Who doesn’t need a good escape every now and then?
How does your writing process work?
I am a total pantser, which means I do not plan a thing. I have a rough idea of how I want the story to start and how I want it to end, but I let the characters take over for the middle. Sometimes that gets me in some logic trouble, but I’m fortunate enough to have my Dream Team and critique partners to catch those little snafus.
The demands on my life and time afford me a very short window to get my writing done, usually between 3pm-5pm. I have ADD, so I always have to drink something caffeinated to help me focus. Also, a little container of chocolate is a creative must. I seek to write a chapter a day (my Dream Team member and timekeeper, Kim Sharp, requires a new chapter to read each night which keeps me on task).
The creative portion of my work takes me very little time. I wrote the entire Fulfillment Trilogy in 3 months. But I am also an anal grammar freak, so editing the work takes me MUCH longer. It’s a painstaking process.
So, to recap: Afternoon writing time with chocolate and caffeine, 1 chapter a day, and edit, edit, edit!
Thanks for stopping by and reading my post!!
Growing up on a small farm in the kingdom of Vanguard, seventeen-year-old Layla Givens lives a deceptively tranquil existence. But her carefully constructed life quickly falls apart when she’s abducted by a religious zealot who proclaims her The Fulfillment of an ancient peace prophecy and whisks her away to marry her greatest enemy.
Wilhelm, Prince of the Ethereals, is reluctant to meet his new bride. He’s grown up believing Vanguards are evil, an enemy to fight and fear…not love. Can he set aside his prejudices and work alongside Layla to bring lasting peace after centuries of war?
Nash, a loner who has never fit in, carries a huge secret, one big enough to destroy both kingdoms. When he accidently meets Layla, he’s no longer content to live in the shadows, but he must resist his growing attraction—for her safety and for the longevity of the two kingdoms.
When Nash’s secret is revealed, a firestorm sweeps through both realms, with Layla at the center. Now she must choose between duty and desire while the fate of two nations hangs in the balance.
Even though she had no chance to escape now, Layla shoved the Elder with all her might. The blow sent him flying into the baker’s door, which splintered under the force, and she darted forward. The Vanguard soldiers moved to block her.
“We are all Vanguards,” she pleaded. “Please let me go.”
For a moment, they hesitated. Layla used the opening to slip around them. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, but they proved to be too slow. Within moments, the soldiers leapt upon her, knocking her to the ground. Wrenching Layla up by her hair, they dragged her back to the Elder, whose face now bled from his encounter with the baker’s door.
“I see you’re going to be trouble.” He brushed the dirt off his robes. “You can’t escape your destiny, girl.”
“Everything must be taken down.” A rotund man, with beady black eyes, surveyed the town, disdain in his expression. While he did not appear distinguishable from the other black and purple clad men, he spoke with authority. “The First Ones and their great Prophecy must be honored properly.” He sniffed, his actions indicating the very existence of Medlin and its occupants offended him.
Layla wondered what this man considered a “proper honoring” of the First Ones. The First Ones…they’d been dead for centuries, and, as far as Layla could tell, hadn’t done much in life except start a never-ending war. She knew nothing more about them except that she was to thank them for good things, curse them for bad, and celebrate them on this day.
“That’s Elder Werrick, head of the Ecclesiastics,” whispered Samson, glancing back at Grant. Layla noticed the look that passed between them.
Grant nodded his assent. “Get her out of here, brother.”
Samson tried to steer Layla away, but she held her position to get a closer look at the man whom her family so feared. She knew they had good reason to worry—her black hair and purple eyes marked her as a Fulfillment candidate, one with the potential to bring about the long awaited peace. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe Elder Werrick would notice her on the crowded streets, especially with her eye drops and hood. Could he really be responsible for dragging candidates from their homes, forcing them to undergo strenuous, sometimes gruesome, testing for the sake of the Prophecy? To Layla, he looked like nothing more than a short, fat, unhappy man. The very notion that he could strike such fear into the hearts of her people seemed almost laughable…almost. As his gaze swept over the crowd, she glimpsed a sinister undertone that made her shiver.
Waving his pudgy arms at the awaiting townspeople, Werrick commanded, “Take it down.”
Suddenly, his body stilled and his tiny eyes grew wide. They briefly connected with Layla’s, narrowing with calculation. The Elder turned to his nearest black clad companion.
“Do you feel that?” Layla heard Werrick ask.
The other man looked skeptical. “Feel what, Elder?”
Werrick leaned in as the two whispered, stealing furtive glances in her direction. When the Elder’s companion pointed at Layla, Samson grabbed her arm. She heard his breathing change from rhythmic to jagged as he pulled her away from the men.
“We have to go now.” His urgency spurred her into action.
Grant moved to block them from the Elder’s view. “Get her away from here, Samson.”
The Elder looked up to see everyone staring at him as if frozen. He repeated his demand, “I said take everything down.”
The townspeople, joined by the Elder’s minion, scampered to remove their decorations, anxious to “properly” celebrate the First Ones. Their flurry of activity concealed Layla as Samson and Grant escorted her away. Layla scanned the streets, horrified, as the people of Medlin stripped the town’s center barren. In no time, everything appeared as it always had, devoid of any celebratory adornments. She looked up at the sky with its gray clouds lingering overhead. A bad omen…
On the hill, a safe distance away, Layla watched a group of Ecclesiastics erect a monstrous stage where the donkey races should have occurred. She heard the braying of the angry animals, harnessed and corralled on the orders of the Elder to avoid interfering with the “true” Day of Dawning celebration. Her ire rose. Who did they think they were coming in and changing everything?
An icy, phantom finger traced a frigid line down her spine. After hearing warning after warning from the Mantars her whole life, Layla knew exactly what the Ecclesiastics could do, what they had done to others in the past. Maybe Samson and Grant had been right. Maybe she should never have come, especially today. Layla turned her back on the town, resolved to go home, to safety.
“Layla!” Samson’s alarmed tone sliced into her, and she swung around toward him.
To her horror, two Vanguard soldiers forced Samson to the ground. She knew just how much strength he possessed, yet he couldn’t free himself. Her hands balled up into fists, shaking with their desire to unleash the full force of their fury.
“Run!” Samson screamed before a soldier’s fist smashed into his face.
His body stilled. Panic, coupled with indecision, crippled her. She should run like Samson commanded, but she couldn’t leave him lying there. To her relief, Grant ambled toward them, his eyes full of rage.
“Run!” Grant echoed Samson’s warning.
With a final glance at the two boys who’d been as close to her as brothers, Layla fled. She flew down the hill, swinging her head from side to side in alarm. Ecclesiastics swarmed throughout the city, making a clear escape route difficult to discern.
Terror rose within Layla. Why hadn’t she listened to her family? She’d been foolish to believe she could sneak around under the ever-watchful eyes of the Ecclesiastics, and that hubris put Samson and Grant in danger as well. She choked back a sob.
“Run,” she whispered.
Willing her feet to move forward, Layla darted toward the back of the baker’s shop, hoping to take a shortcut through the back alleyway. She swerved to miss a wooden box and stumbled, arms flailing to right herself. Unfamiliar hands reached out to break her fall. Once stable, Layla looked up to find Elder Werrick staring down at her. She screamed but no sound came out of her open mouth.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, a wicked smile on his face.
Erin Albert is an author and fitness trainer. Since she picked up Morris the Moose Goes to School at age four, she has been infatuated with the written word. She went on to work as a grammar and writing tutor in college and is still teased by her family and friends for being a member of the “Grammar Police.” In her free time, Erin enjoys acting, running, kickboxing, and, of course, reading and writing.
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