Happy Book Birthday! {giveaways!}

I’m utterly speechless.

May 15th will be two years since Spinner of Secrets was published.

It feels like yesterday and at the same time, it feels like it was a hundred and seventeen years ago.

To celebrate…

GIVEAWAYS.

There’s a giveaway of Through the Pages, with a paperback for US winners and a Kindle edition for everyone!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And a giveaway of Spinner of Secrets, with a paperback for US winners and a Kindle edition for everyone!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I wouldn’t be where I am today with the support you all have given along the way. This is my way of saying thanks for an awesome two years. I’m looking forward to many, many more.

Blessings,
Annie

A Letter to Santa Claus



A short, fictional letter exchange I found myself toying with while I made lunch on November 29th. It was originally posted here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Santa Claus,
Hi. I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m Emily Grayson from Temple, Maine. It’s been a while since I’ve written a letter to you. I think the last time I did, I was eight. I’m almost thirteen now. But my town is hosting a Letters to Santa thing at the library and I’m stuck here while my mom reads Christmas books to a bunch of little kids, and I figured, what do I have to lose? Nothing.

Here’s the deal. Santa, I don’t think you’re real. I think you’re just a story, made up to keep kids happy. (And to make them behave.) My brother likes to talk about the numbers and how it’s impossible for you to do what they say you do, but the numbers aside:

My friend Carole didn’t get any presents last year. I’m not allowed to go to her house anymore because her father drinks and my parents don’t think it’s safe. I know Carole wrote to you last year, because I paid for the stamp on the letter. (She picked a stamp with your picture on it.) She said she asked for two things, but she only told me about one of them, a bike so she could come over to my house a lot more often.

She didn’t get her bike. And I don’t think she got the second wish either.

I don’t think you’re real, Santa. If you’re real, then why are there still wars and sick people and all that? For that matter, I don’t think God is real either. He’s supposed to love us. And you’re supposed to bring happiness. Well Santa, things aren’t so happy for Carole. Either you don’t exist, or you don’t care, or you failed at your job. And same goes for you too, God.

I’m tired of seeing Carole get disappointed. She’s always believed in you, Santa. She’s always trusted that you’ll make things better. And things are never better, and she gets sad, but then she says, “Maybe next year.” But next year isn’t ever different.

If you’re real, Santa, or God, or whoever reads this letter, you have to prove it. Carole’s address is 165 Meadow Lane in Temple. If you’re really real, give her the best Christmas ever.

Sincerely, 

Emily Grayson

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Emily,

I received your letter. Thank you for writing about these concerns. You simply would not believe how many people just give up hoping, instead of trying to do something about it.

Emily Grayson, maybe I am just a story. But stories are mighty powerful things, young lady. Stories let us dream. Stories let us hope. Stories let us believe. And stories show us the light and good in the world.

In the end, Emily, that is what matters most. Love is even more powerful than stories, young lady, and when hearts are full of love, they light up the world. I know your parents might think you are too young to be worried about wars and death and darkness, but you see these things. They worry you. They worry me too, and all the other helpers.

You see, I am a helper. Humans are curious creatures, Emily. They can withstand impossible things, but if you take hope away from them, they fade away so fast that you wonder if they were ever there at all. As a helper, my job is to keep that spark of hope alive. You’ve seen it in your friend Carole. She always hopes that next year will be different. And it is because she hopes that she is so strong.

I am only one of a great many helpers. And I would like to invite you to be a helper, too. You see people. You care about them. You want things to be better for them.

Maybe you have all the proof you need.

With love,
Nicholas

P.S. — I will see what I can do for Carole.


Copyright 2018 by Annie Louise Twitchell
Image from Pixabay

Through the Pages {blog tour finale}

{This post was supposed to be shared yesterday, but my scheduling isn’t working on my blog (I had it scheduled and it wouldn’t publish) and I was so busy yesterday, I never had a chance to get on and post it. So here’s my finale post, on the 16th instead of the 15th. Oh well.}
Lately, I’ve been thinking about ‘why’. I saw an ad on Facebook for a promotion company, and they said finding your ‘why’ for your art can help a lot. I got upset at first because I didn’t have a why, and I felt a bit threatened. It was weird. 
And then the other night I was walking the dog and thinking about things and I realized I knew what my ‘why’ is. 
My friends have some pretty incredible reasons why they write, and mine isn’t very big or incredible like theirs, but it sums up the reason why I write, very well. 

I write to tell stories. 
That’s it. 
There are themes in my stories that stay the same through most of them–themes of hope, love, forgiveness, joy–but at the end of the day I write to tell a story. 
Like I shared in The Hobbit {my favorite book}, stories are terribly important to me. I write stories because stories are what saved me. Not a sermon thinly wrapped in prose, not someone else’s agenda. Just stories. 
The stories I write are varied, in all genres, of all types. My reason for writing is just simply to tell you a story. I hope that they will be stories you enjoy. I hope they will be stories that move you. I hope they will be stories that someday, will climb down into the pit with a kid and help them back up to daylight, just like I had happen. 
I’m learning. 
I’m growing. 
And as I learn and grow, my stories will grow with me. 
But today and always, my goal is to lay before you a good story. 
Join us on Sunday, September 16th for a Facebook party and a giveaway at the party! RSVP here.
The Kindle e-book edition of Through the Pages is only 2.99 for just a couple more days! Click here to pick it up. 

-Annie

Through the Pages {blog tour and poems}


Today, I’ve collected a few of Harper’s poems to share with you all. Well, poems and journal entries. They often end up being the same thing when Harper writes them.

It feels so odd to be free. We’re not at war. Didn’t think the war would end. Didn’t think I would come home. But I did. Irene was waiting. We’re getting married. She’s beautiful but that doesn’t begin to describe her. She’s like the stars I could see from the ship, way out there in the ocean.

Been home a few weeks. Pa doesn’t care if I do chores. He didn’t think I was coming home but here I am. Found this old journal in the bottom of my duffel and forgot about it. I’d almost forgotten about Christopher. It’s been years. At the same time it hasn’t been any time at all and I can still hear his voice in the back of my mind. “Harp, you’re going to tell my girl that I love her, right?” I promised him I would but the issue is, I don’t know her name.

Irene’s an angel. I’m good if she’s here. Wish she’d sing more. Her voice is perfect because it’s home.
House is freezing. Some of the farm help didn’t come home. They won’t come home again. Pa’s collected their things to post back to their families.

I didn’t have to live, God. You know that, right? Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Coming home and seeing all the dead hopes and all the new tombstones and — all the empty seats in the church pews. War is hell. God’s not there. I am sick of the stink of blood and sound of death. I can smell it. I can hear it. Said it was for right and freedom but I don’t know anymore. I can hear the shells in my mind. I can hear the screams. God, please, make it stop. I think I’m going insane.

I want to live on a mountaintop somewhere. A quiet place. With Irene and maybe some kids.

H.S.

1946


Do not weep for the fading of the autumn
Do not weep for the drifting leaves
Do not weep for the earth at rest
Do not weep for the changing of the stars
and the chilling of the air
The winter is near
A world of peppermint ice and frosted lace.
Do not weep for the changing tides, my love
Life is ever changing.
Life is the same.


H.S.
November 1982






These people here, these young and happy folk,
they don’t understand.

Their minds are filled with colors and equality and they fight, not in mud-filled trenches, but in minds and hearts. They don’t understand us but I think, maybe, I don’t understand them either.

They are young.

They are free.

They are brave.

They’re the future, and I am the past.

Both of us are soldiers, I and the little girl who stood at the front of the crowd on the sidewalk who jumps when the guns fire the final salute. My name isn’t on the memorial statues, but so many other names that I know are.

It will be good to rest, won’t it?


H.S.
Memorial Day 1992



Thanks for reading!

Join us on Sunday, September 16th for a Facebook party and a giveaway at the party! RSVP here.

The Kindle e-book edition of Through the Pages is only 2.99 for just a few more days! Click here to pick it up. 


-Annie


Copyright 2018 by Annie Louise Twitchell

Through the Pages {blog tour launch}

Through the Pages never got a blog tour or a release party, because it was a secret birthday surprise for my mom. So we’re doing one now, a month or so after the release date. Better late than never, right? 

Spring will always follow Winter. 

Misty doesn’t know who she is. Nineteen years old, she’s trapped inside who she has been, with no idea who she could be. 

When she goes to Mill’s End to take care of her stubborn, book-loving grandmother, she finds herself torn between past and present. The answer to who she is lies hidden in her grandmother’s library. Her path to find herself takes her through the fading pages of dusty books and the memories of a woman who has lived a full life. It is up to Misty to write the final chapter to the dearest story of them all.

In this tour, you can look forward to meeting some of the characters, reading some interviews and reviews, and at the end of the week, we’ll have a Facebook party and a giveaway!

Here’s the link to the Facebook party so you can RSVP: Through the Pages Release Party

The Kindle e-book edition of Through the Pages is only 2.99 for the length of the tour! Click here to pick it up. 

This is a week-long event! Here’s the approximate schedule:

Sunday, September 9th:
Monday, September 10th:
Tuesday, September 11th:
Wednesday, September 12:
Thursday, September 13th:
Friday, September 14th:
Saturday, September 15th:
I hope to see you around!

The Worth of a King {blog tour}

The Worth of a King Blog Tour




Okay, for starters, look at this cover: 
Isn’t it AMAZING? I’ve been watching this for a while now, just because of that cover. I didn’t end up with time to do a review of it, because I didn’t have time to read it, because I’ve been a little busy with my own novel, but I have a short excerpt to share with you!

{Book Description}

Princess Obsidia’s father was killed the night she was born. Since there was no male heir, the crown went to the man who killed him, by Dialcian law. This never bothered her, growing up, and when it comes time for Obsidia to choose her husband, she chooses Prince Delaney, the son of that man, with little hesitation. Only then does her life start crumbling around her.

Adrian expected to live a normal life, taking his father’s place at the print shop when his father retired. But, on his eighteenth birthday, when the princess’ engagement is announced, his world is ripped out from under him when he learns that his life was a ruse, and he is the twin brother to the princess – and expected to take back his father’s throne.

Delaney knows that his country is hovering on the brink of war – and that his father may harbor murderous intentions towards his intended bride due to her Zovordian blood. He wants nothing more than to protect Obsidia and his people, but as merely prince, he has little power against his father.
The ancient war between the Dragons and the Immortal King and Queen is nearing its climax, and the three are already caught in it.


{Excerpt}

IN his panic, Adrian forgot that there was a party outside. A party for his twin sister. Because their father had been killed the day they were born.

It was impossible. It was a bad dream. It had to be. Perhaps a practical joke taking advantage of how he shared a birthday with the princess. Yes, yes, that was all this was. It had to be.
“Oh, Adrian!” Christa’s voice cut into his thought. “You’re awake! Oh, if I had only stayed just a few minutes longer! How did you like the cake?”
Adrian swallowed. He’d not even taken a bite of the cake, and he couldn’t tell her that. “I liked it,” he answered instead. It wasn’t a lie. It was a cream cake and she had made it.
“Good.” She gave a satisfied nod and then narrowed her eyes. “Are you all right, Adrian?”
As Adrian floundered for an answer because no, he wasn’t all right, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Jerolin answered for him. “Oh, it’s just finally set in for him that he has turned eighteen and his carefree childhood is over. I’m sure that you’ll understand next year when you have to leave childhood.”
Christa rocked back on her heels, her frown easing, but not disappearing entirely. “Oh.”
“And you know how grumpy he always is on his birthdays,” Jerolin continued. “It’s just going to be worse this year. You might want to give him some space. Just for today, that is. Come tomorrow, everything should be back to normal.”
Normal? How could Jerolin say that? So flippantly, too. Things wouldn’t be normal tomorrow. Things couldn’t be normal. Never again. He was a prince.
He bolted again. Tore himself from Jerolin’s grip. Headed out of town. Dodging people. Trying to get away. To be alone. To think. He reached the edge of town and kept running. Down the road. Into the woods.
His foot caught on a root and he fell, face-first, into the dirt. He made no effort to get up. Just lay there as the world spun around him.
His parents weren’t his parents. He was the son of Queen Adelaide and the dead king. The murdered king. Was he expected to return to the castle and kill King Ossian in return? Was he supposed to become king?
Oh, but he hated politics.





{Add Book on Goodreads}
{Author Bio}

Kendra E. Ardnek loves fairytales and twisting them in new and exciting ways. She’s been or acting them on her dozen plus cousins and siblings for years. “Finish your story, Kendra,” is frequently heard at family gatherings. Her sole life goal has always been to grow up and be an author of fantasy and children’s tales that glorify God and His Word.


Find her online at: Website || Blog || Goodreads || Facebook || Twitter || Amazon 



-Annie

Through the Pages {a giveaway and a thank-you}

It’s been almost a year since this story started, but it’s far from finished. 
I want to hug all the people who’ve helped spread the word about Through the Pages, but most of them aren’t in my immediate range of hugability. 
So instead, I’d like to give away one of my Collector’s Boxes. 
In this giveaway, you’ll receive a paper back copy of Through the Pages…
A paper back replica of Harper South’s Journal, available ONLY in these special bundles…

Five art prints…
And maybe a random bonus gift!
The Collector’s Boxes will be available on my website when I have more books in stock! In the meantime, why not enter the giveaway?
International Winners: unfortunately, lack of funds prohibits me from shipping internationally. So instead, for international winners ONLY, I have an e-book copy of Through the Pages in your choice of Kindle, PDF, or ePub. 

And in closing, a random landscape shot. This is my hometown, ladies and gents.

Good luck! -Annie

Through the Pages {my first novel}

Once upon a time, not too long ago, in fact, a little less than a year ago…

{August 19th, 2017}

“Hey, Annie, remember how you were asking, ‘what will I write next’ the other day?”

I did ask that question, after finishing Jump: The Things I Remind Myself. But when God asks a question like that, I’ve found He tends to have ulterior motives behind it. So I very cautiously said, “yeah, I remember… what about it?”

“Well, I’ve got one for you. Write a book for your mom.”

Cue wide eyes and a heck of a lot of confusion. And a scrambled message to my girl’s group. “I think I’m supposed to write a book for my mom. Help!”

Go figure, they all thought it was a brilliant idea.

“Hey Annie,” came the somewhat amused voice from the upstairs regions of the cosmos. “It’s for her birthday next year, by the way. And it’s about books. The interior will be cream paper, with an artistic book drawing for underneath the chapter headers. The cover will be purple.”

And that is the story of why I had a meltdown from August 19th to August 21st.

This was uncharted territory for me. I was pretty sure it would be a novel, not one of my short stories or a novella or something easy. (I’ve never completed a first draft of a novel, only a lot of partial first drafts.) And I had less than a year. And I needed to keep it a secret from everyone around me. (I’m horrible at keeping exciting things secret.)

{the journey}

The rest of August, September, and October were spent in a weird sort of stasis. I didn’t write a whole lot, at least, not that I remember. I did a lot of thinking. I spent a lot of time with books, and with my mom. And by mid October I had a pretty solid idea of what this story was supposed to look like.

November came around and I used NaNoWriMo as my excuse to pound out a 50k novel in a very short period of time. For the first time, I had a whole, finished, novel. And I couldn’t tell anyone.

Well, not quite true. I told my girl’s group (after making them swear to secrecy). I told Missie. And in June of 2018, I told my pen pal/adopted grandmother/great-aunt about it, because she asked what I was working on, and I was pretty darn sure that she wouldn’t tell anyone. 
The hardest thing this whole time has been keeping it a secret from everyone. Hannah helped; I had to tell her because I was in the middle of a stress-induced panic attack of “I can’t do this!” and needed help getting myself out. I told Jeremy because I conscripted him to receive the packages so my mother wouldn’t suspect anything. I made my cover designer, my editor, my beta readers, and my girl’s group swear themselves to secrecy, and… 
…here we are. 

Here’s one of my favorite quotes from this story:

“That’s the thing, Miranda, you never get over the butterflies if it’s the right person. They just settle down a bit. If it’s the right person, you just go your whole life being all tangled up with the butterflies in your stomach and the love in your heart.” 

Through the Pages
Annie Louise Twitchell

LOOK AT THIS COVER
*all the heart eyes to That Book Gal for this amazing design*
Available at Amazon

Fun Fact: I had the hardest time finding an editor until I was actually ready to see about hiring one. At that point, Facebook hiccuped and showed me a notification for a post from an editing page I’d been following and hadn’t done much looking into. If you’re in the US, I highly recommend Lemons to Lemonade Editing. Not only did she do a wonderful job with my line edits, but she works on paper, meaning I had a marked up paper copy to make my changes from. That was perfect for how my head works and the way I prefer to do things, and made my process of fixing things so much easier.

Fun Fact #2: I’m still a bit giddy that I actually did this thing. I will probably be varying degrees of giddy for the next two months.

Fun Fact #3: I’ve actually been so overwhelmed since I gave the book to my mom on the 5th that I’ve had two or three headaches and gone swimming a lot and written almost nothing. Just this blog post. I’ll get back in my groove eventually. I think.

The Bunny approves. This is important.

~Annie

Wake the Moon {the story behind the story & giveaway}

Demons laugh, light fades, and Jesse must battle his own darkness to wake the sleeping girl.


{Behind the Story}

Wake the Moon was inspired by a friend of mine asking, ‘what would happen if Sleeping Beauty couldn’t wake up?’ I took that concept (with their permission; in fact they shared it with “here’s a story idea for you, Annie”) and mulled over it for several months before finally sitting down to weave this story. 

Sleeping Beauty can’t wake up. 

It started out unexpectedly, with a male POV that I learned was our hero. It didn’t stay true to the Sleeping Beauty story, but some of the elements are still there. It’s more of a new story, now, less of a retelling. And there’s a spiritual angle that startled me at first. 


It scared me. I’ve never been so alarmed by words that came out of my fingers before. And at the same time I loved every minute of it. It didn’t take me very long to write, and then I just sat and stared at the finished first draft for a long time before hiding it and not thinking about it for a while. 

In May, I was trying to think of a fairy tale I could share with the Fellowship of Fantasy for their fairy tale anthology. I thought over it a lot, started a few things, and finally remembered that I had a vaguely Sleeping Beauty story in my back file. So I pulled it out, asked for beta readers, and launched into editing. 

It’s not very long, this little story of mine, but I hope you enjoy it.



{Book Description}

Rescue a princess, meet a mermaid, win your reward.
The authors of the Fellowship of Fantasy tackle fairy tales from once upon a time to happily ever after. Explore twists on old tales and brand new magical stories. Meet feisty mermaids, friendly lampposts, and heroes who just might be monsters themselves.
This fourth anthology from the Fellowship of Fantasy will lead you on a quest for entertainment and storm the castle of your imagination. So make a wish and enter the deep dark woods to find stories that will make you laugh, shiver, and maybe even fall in love.









Cinders by Kendra E. Ardnek
When the fairy Jalia receives a plea for her aid, it seems a routine Cinderella rescue – until she only finds the family’s pet cats.
At The Corner of Elm & Main by H. L. Burke
A sweet-natured lamppost dreams of seeing the world. When magic grants his wish, how will he use it? 

Tears of the Seaby Savannah Jezowski
When Le Rae indulges her fascination with the forbidden sand walkers, she discovers more than danger in the shallow waters.
Steelhandby Ashley Capes
When a man with a mechanical hand hears a woman’s ethereal voice calling for help, he must brave the steel forest to rescue her from a foul Alchemist.
King or Beggar by D. G. Driver
When a king’s spoiled, conceited daughter refuses and insults every nobleman asking for her hand in marriage, he stops giving her a choice.
The Girl Who Talked by Birds by Kristen S. Walker
A young girl’s already isolated existence is worsened by the emergence of strange abilities.
The Princess and the Stone-Picker by Sarah Ashwood
“Those whose eyes are nearest to the ground are those who see its treasures.” A humble stone-picker’s mysterious remark sends a spoiled princess pursuing answers.
Wake the Moon by Annie Louise Twitchell
Demons laugh, light fades, and Jesse must battle his own darkness to wake the sleeping girl.
The Greatest Adventure by J.M. Hackman
A beautiful slave girl, hidden Fire Diamonds, and a wily dragon give Firebrand Aideen Siriol his greatest adventure yet.
Third Princess by Emily Martha Sorensen
The youngest of three always succeeds after the older two fail. But what if the older two aren’t willing to fail?
A Week after Midnight by Alex McGilvery
The prince is so shy he needed a ball to find a wife. What will he do when she moves in?
Being Seen by Gretchen E. K. Engel
Just because Ilmara is invisible, doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist.
The Quest for a Wide-Awake Princess by Lia London
Prince Jack needs to find a suitable princess, but he’d settle for one who’s not snoring.
How to Hide a Prince by E.J. Kitchens
Princess Fiona is destined to save a prince, but would kissing a talking frog free a prince, or curse them both?
Believing Fairytales by Arthur Daigle
Some fairy tales are true. The dangerous ones are partly true.
The Loathly Princess of Edimor by L. Palmer
Princess Selene always gets her desire. When she asks to escape a marriage by transforming into a swan, the witch who helps her has other plans.


{Rafflecopter Givaways}

 U.S. Only: (All books are paperbacks, and possibly signed.) 

a Rafflecopter giveaway 



International: (All books are ebooks of the winner’s file format of choice) 

a Rafflecopter giveaway 


Comment Giveaway: The person who comments the most across the whole blog tour will win some sneak peeks of featured author’s works-in-progress!

~Annie

A Tale of Two Apples {blog tour wrap-up}




So basically this summer has been insane and I haven’t stayed on top of things very well. I’ve been crazy busy with projects and life and general busyness and a whole lot of swimming. 


I’m finally posting my wrap-up for the Tale of Two Apples Blog Tour. Better late than never, right? 




Here are the posts, we’d love for you to check them out. 

Sunday 22nd:
Monday 23rd:
Tuesday 24th:
Wednesday 25th:
Thursday 26th:
Friday 27th:
Saturday 28th:
Wednesday, August 1st:
  • Annie Louise Twitchell {wrap-up post}


And here are the links to our short stories: