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Planning to set up a blog… |
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For some reason the instructions for setting up a blog -create a book- |
| Stories wear masks. Some show you battles and prophecy first — wolves, destiny, old magic stirring in the dark. But beneath every legend, there’s a quieter truth humming like a heartbeat. Not loud. Not demanding. Just… present. Waiting to be seen. This Moon Saga carries that kind of truth. It isn’t only a tale of wolves, tribes, and humans bound by ancient promises. It’s also a story about fear — how people learn it, inherit it, cling to it. Prejudice doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it breathes in silence, in glances that look away, in histories no one wants to face. And yet, even there, love keeps trying to bloom. Across borders and bloodlines. Across old wounds and older grudges. Across the places where suspicion once rooted itself deep. A girl stands at the center of that struggle. She isn’t a warrior because she fights. She’s a warrior because she chooses gentleness where others choose walls. She bridges worlds by believing they can meet in the first place. Her kindness isn’t softness. It is rebellion. It is strength in its most unassuming form. Every prophecy in this story isn’t just fate — it’s a choice. Each act of grace, a small revolt. Each forgiveness, a chain breaking link by link. It is heart, It is wolf It is moon It speaks one simple belief: Love — steady, patient, unafraid — is the oldest magic there is. And even when the world divides itself into us and them, the heart can choose we instead. |
| I am just trying to figure out how this site works right now… So a blog about my work. Starting with I believe in love at first sight, and I believe in happily ever after. Often, I start with a little tease like “Sharp’s Awakening Heart” —just a glimpse of a moment, a spark on the page. It’s my way of feeling my way into a story, testing its heartbeat. Slowly, almost without realizing it, the characters begin to embed themselves in my heart. They whisper their secrets, reveal their wounds, and before long, their stories take on a life of their own. It never feels forced. It’s as if they were waiting all along, ready for me to listen. And when I do, the words come—not as work, but as a kind of magic. |
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