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Genre: Historical Fiction
About writer4himLocation: United States Age:16 Website: http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/writer4him Favorite novels: Lord of the Rings, Kidnapped, a Tale of Two Cities, the Crown and Covenant series Favorite writers: Tolkien, Robert Louis Stevenson, Douglas Bond Favorite music: The Braveheart soundtrack, Enya, MaidensIV, Non-noveling interests: Reading, history, music, riding horses, playing chess... |
Joined: November 3, 2007 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 14
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Brief Author Bio: I'm your typical geeky homeschooler who loves to read, write, and ride horses. I have a fascination with angsty, depressing characters. Inspiration comes when I am on the back of a horse, galloping alone through a field at sunset. Unfortunately, when I lack inspiration, I tend to succumb to writer's block. My muse is called Awena. Be very nice to her--she doesn't come around often. |
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Synopsis: When The World Was Young
Courtship, religious unrest, and political intrigue—all are new and unfamiliar to sixteen-year-old Nicole Coligny Dubois, and yet all are bound up in her future. While sixteenth-century France writhes under the tension of uneasy peace, Nicole must face her newfound womanhood and choose where she will stand as peace gives way to a bloody massacre in the streets of Paris.
Excerpt: When The World Was Young
I am not as young as I once was.
There is so much I have seen, so much that I have lived…so much that I have yet to live. I am not ready to die.
I am afraid of what will come to pass. It is a trial to live as a person of faith in days when faith is nothing but a political asset, a creed imposed by the king. I fear—fear for the day when our beliefs will drive us apart.
In Bourges, there is peace as one balancing upon a fence, or a lion in deep slumber. Soon it will awake, and all of France will writhe under its fierce grip. I do not wish to see it happen—I pray God that neither I nor my children will live to see the day. But it is coming.
It is not the first time France has been torn apart by the hands of its very citizens. Indeed, we bear a bloody history as a nation divided by war and violence. My father marched in the ranks of Admiral de Coligny, noble defender of our people. In his days of fighting, he earned a wicked scar along his face and a healthy abhorrence of war. He knows better than to underestimate the struggle ahead.
But then, it has always been our lot to suffer. We are the remnant of those faithful—the believers who are willing to die for their faith. They slay us, yet we live on. These are days of peril.
How my heart longs for the days when the world was young…
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