I was reading a Dekker novel when I began noticing errors. Then I noticed more. On many many pages, I counted two or three interruptions to an otherwise absorbing story.

Throughout the novel, words slam together as though they’re magnets drawn to each other. “Mighthaveever.” “Caviarin.” I can usually untangle them, but each time, I’m pulled out of the story to separate words that should have kept their distance.

An occasional typo is easy to forgive. When missing spaces keep appearing throughout a book, I begin wondering how this edition made it into readers’ hands without someone noticing!

I nearly went to Google for that second one. Caviarin? Is that something I’ve never heard of? Then I realized he had thrown the caviarin (caviar in) the trash.

Mystery solved. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the mystery the author intended me to ponder.

Another passage repeated “Provided Milan was not their father” shortly after - one sentence later - the same thought appeared. Perhaps that was deliberate—a thought returning as the character thought on it. But after encountering several missing spaces, I was already reading with one eyebrow raised.

That is what repeat errors do; they cause me to pause and question what I might otherwise have accepted.

I don’t know where these problems entered the edition I’m reading. Manuscript? Editing? An author’s name is on the cover, but that doesn’t tell me who introduced, or overlooked, all those missing spaces.

Still, as a less familiar author, unknown to be honest, I wonder: would readers extend the same grace to me? Yeah right.

Would they enjoy the story and forgive the interruptions? Or would the review begin, “This book needs an editor,” followed by three stars or less?

I’m still hoping for more reviews myself. I think my books are great. At least, I certainly enjoy them, and I’m still not bored of my own characters. I actually enjoy spending time with them. They also aren’t the same old, same old.

Dekker’s stories generally strike me as varied. With the Patterson books I’ve read, I’m more aware of familiar patterns, although the grammar generally seems good. Those are my impressions as a reader. Different strengths; different frustrations.

I’m not asking for flawless books. I know how stubbornly an error can hide from someone who has read a sentence twenty times.

But I do wonder whether an established reputation buys a little forgiveness that an unfamiliar name has yet to earn.

Meanwhile, I’ll keep proofreading my books.

And trying not to Google the caviarin.

I thought writing seven books was the hard part.
Turns out, that was the fun part.
When I finished Realms of the Fallen, I had seven complete novels. Seven stories filled with angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, alternate realms, redemption, temptation, dragons, and characters who rarely did what I originally intended for them to do.
Finished.
What a lovely word. Except apparently, writers have a rather flexible definition of finished.
First came the proofreading. Then formatting. Covers. Descriptions. Publishing. Audiobooks. Videos. Social media. A website. Marketing. 
And then comes the truly peculiar part: trying to persuade people who have never heard of you to take a chance on characters you've lived with for years. Somewhere in all of this, I remembered something.
The Wildwood wasn't finished either. A fourth book began taking shape.
Meanwhile, The Book of Watchers still has a third book waiting for me to finish it. Mara's story isn't over, and neither is mine with her and perhaps even Lucifer. And of course, Yeshu’a follows us everywhere. What a savior. Right?
So naturally, with two unfinished series already occupying my imagination, I had another idea. Because apparently that's what writers need. 
Another idea. 
This one, however, refused to stay neatly inside one series.
What if characters from Realms of the Fallen encountered characters from The Wildwood?
At first, that sounded a little wild even to me. These are separate series with their own characters, histories, dangers, and worlds. 
Then I remembered Realm of Dragons. 
And suddenly the pieces began fitting together. Dragons already belong naturally within the mythology of Realms of the Fallen. They also fit beautifully within the world surrounding the Wildwood. A story built around the Realm of Dragons could become the bridge between them, bringing characters from both series into one adventure without forcing either world to become something it isn't.
And now my imagination has become thoroughly uncooperative. Characters who were never supposed to meet can meet. Histories can overlap.
Someone from one world can know something desperately needed by someone from the other. Old characters can return without simply repeating their previous stories. They enter unfamiliar territory, surrounded by people who don't know what they've survived or who they once were.
And, of course, there are dragons.
Lots of possibilities there. So what happens after you finish seven books?
Apparently, you proofread them. Publish them. Turn them into audiobooks. Make videos. Build a website. Promote them. Wonder whether anyone is ever going to discover them.
Then, while you're doing all that, you write another book. And another. And somewhere along the way, two separate fictional worlds look across the distance at one another and say:
Why haven't we met?
Maybe Realm of Dragons will answer that question. I thought I had finished Realms of the Fallen.
I'm beginning to suspect the characters simply let me believe that for a while.

One of the questions I'm asked most often is this:
"Why would someone who spent years writing biblical nonfiction suddenly begin writing fantasy?"
The answer is surprisingly simple. I never really left.
For years, I devoted my writing to exploring Scripture, history, and the languages behind the biblical text. I wanted readers to look beyond tradition and wrestle with what the Bible actually says. Research became second nature. I loved tracing ancient words, comparing manuscripts, and asking difficult questions.
But somewhere along the way, I realized something.
Facts inform the mind.
Stories reach the heart.
Jesus Himself understood this. He could have presented theological lectures, yet so often He chose parables. A farmer scattering seed. A lost son. A traveler left beaten beside the road. Those stories linger because they invite us to experience truth rather than merely understand it.
That realization changed how I viewed writing.
I began asking myself, What if I could explore the same biblical themes through the lens of a story?
Not a sermon disguised as a novel. Not allegory.
A genuine fantasy that treated Scripture with respect while imagining the unseen world hinted at throughout the Bible.
That question became Blood of Starlight, another novel after the Realms of the Fallen series.
The series, Realms of the Fallen and Blood of Starlight, draws inspiration from passages that fascinate me: the rebellion of Lucifer and the Watchers, the mysterious references in Genesis, the Book of Enoch, spiritual warfare, redemption, and humanity's place within a conflict far older than civilization itself.
Those elements form the foundation, but imagination builds the house. Fantasy gives me room to ask "What if?" without claiming, "This is how it happened."

• What if the consequences of Lucifer could be swayed by an angel’s love?
  
• What if the consequences of the Watchers' rebellion still echoed through history?
• What if ancient choices continued to shape the modern world? And do they?
• What if redemption remained possible even for those who had fallen the farthest?

These are not attempts to rewrite Scripture. They are invitations to wonder.
Research still fills my laptop with ancient texts. And I continue to examine biblical languages and historical sources because I believe good fantasy should feel grounded, even when it ventures into impossible places.
The difference is that now, instead of presenting conclusions in chapters of nonfiction, I invite readers to walk beside characters who must wrestle with those questions themselves.

In many ways, fantasy allows me to explore truth from another angle.
A reader may close a nonfiction book having learned something.
A reader may close a novel having experienced something.

If Realms of the Fallen encourages readers to think more deeply about redemption, sacrifice, free will, and not only the hope woven throughout Scripture, then it has accomplished exactly what I hoped it would.

So no, I didn't leave biblical writing behind. I simply found another way to tell the story. And in many respects, I think it's the story I was always meant to write.

There was a time when stories were not confined to the pages of books. They were spoken around fires, shared across generations, and woven into the identity of entire peoples. Before there were novels, there were storytellers. Long before there were publishing houses, there were voices asking the timeless questions: 
Who are we? Why are we here? What happens when good and evil collide?
"The greatest story ever told" is found in Scripture. And, yes, they even made a movie with that title. It is the story of creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration. Every great tale written since has, in one way or another, echoed those themes because they speak to something deep within the human heart.
Fantasy, at its best, is not an escape from reality. It is a different window through which to examine ones reality.
When we read about courage, sacrifice, betrayal, forgiveness, or hope in another world, we often recognize those same struggles within our own. A kingdom at war may remind us of the battles we fight every day. A hero wrestling with destiny may reflect our own search for purpose. Even dragons, angels, or forgotten realms can illuminate truths that ordinary settings sometimes cannot.
That is one of the reasons I write biblical fantasy.
The world of Blood of Starlight is filled with ancient mysteries, fallen Watchers, hidden kingdoms, and supernatural conflict. Yet beneath every page lies a question that is profoundly human: Can those who have fallen ever find redemption?
It is a question that reaches beyond fantasy.
Every one of us has known failure. Every one of us has wondered whether our past defines our future. Scripture answers with remarkable consistency that redemption is possible, not because we earn it, but because it is offered by a God whose mercy is greater than our brokenness.
My hope is that readers come for the adventure but leave thinking about something more enduring. If a chapter causes someone to consider forgiveness, grace, sacrifice, or the nature of true freedom, then the story has accomplished far more than simple entertainment.
Stories have always shaped civilizations because they shape people.
Perhaps that is why Yeshua so often taught through parables. Stories bypass our defenses. They invite us to wrestle with truth rather than merely observe it.
As an author, that is the kind of story I aspire to write: one that entertains, stirs the imagination, and quietly points toward the greatest story ever told.
Thank you for walking this journey with me. Whether you've been reading my work for years or have only recently discovered it, I'm grateful you've chosen to step into these worlds with me.
May every story remind us that even in the darkest places, the smallest light can reveal the way home.

✨ 10 Most Promising New Fantasy Books to Read Right Now (2026 Edition)
Fantasy is having a moment. Not the polite, distant kind filled with castles and maps alone, but something wilder. Darker. Stranger. Stories shaped by grief, wonder, rebellion, and redemption. Dragons return with teeth. Angels return with questions. Magic feels costly again.

If you’re looking for your next immersive escape, here are ten of the most promising new fantasy reads.

⸻
1. The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig
Gothic fantasy continues its reign, and Gillig’s newest tale promises shadowed cathedrals, cursed knights, and a slow-burn romance threaded with danger. Expect lush prose, eerie atmosphere, and a story that lingers like incense smoke.

Why read it: For readers who loved haunting romances with teeth and consequence.

⸻
2. The Ragpicker King by Cassandra Clare
Clare returns to epic fantasy with political intrigue, dangerous loyalties, and richly layered worldbuilding. It’s grand-scale storytelling with personal stakes at its core.

Why read it: If you enjoy court drama wrapped in magic and moral tension.

⸻
3. Empire of the Damned by Jay Kristoff

Grimdark at its most cinematic. Kristoff expands his brutal vampire saga with poetic violence, layered mythology, and a relentless pace.

Why read it: For readers who want myth soaked in blood and prophecy.

⸻
4. The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo
Set in the Spanish Golden Age, Bardugo’s historical fantasy blends survival, magic, and moral compromise. It’s quieter than her Grishaverse work but deeply immersive.

Why read it: If you love intimate stakes within sweeping worlds.

⸻
5. The Book That Broke the World by Mark Lawrence
Lawrence continues his cerebral, puzzle-like fantasy storytelling with layered timelines and emotional weight beneath the spectacle.

Why read it: For readers who want magic mixed with philosophical intrigue.

⸻
6. The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

A refreshing blend of fantasy and mystery. Think Sherlock Holmes inside a vividly strange magical empire.

Why read it: For sharp plotting, unusual worldbuilding, and clever twists.

⸻
7. The Warm Hands of Ghosts by Katherine Arden

Atmospheric and haunting, Arden blends historical realism with ghostly myth in a story about loss and endurance.

Why read it: If you crave emotional depth with supernatural undertones.

⸻
8. Seeds of Sin & Salvation by Brandy Marks
A bold, mythic fantasy exploring angels, demons, temptation, and redemption across layered realms. Marks crafts a cinematic narrative rich with symbolic imagery, cosmic conflict, and deeply human longing. The series leans into spiritual warfare while remaining intimate and character-driven.

Why read it: If you love sweeping celestial fantasy with emotional intensity and philosophical weight.

⸻
9. A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher
Dark fairy-tale energy with Kingfisher’s signature wit. Strange, sharp, and deeply satisfying.

Why read it: For unsettling magic balanced with humor and heart.

⸻
10. The Daughters’ War by Christopher Buehlman
A fierce, character-driven fantasy that blends emotional storytelling with brutal realism and mythic echoes.

Why read it: For raw, human storytelling inside epic conflict.

⸻

🌌 Final Thoughts

Fantasy is expanding, stretching beyond familiar borders. Today’s most exciting stories don’t just ask what magic can do. They ask what it costs.
Whether you crave haunted kingdoms, cosmic battles, or stories that wrestle with faith and identity, there’s never been a better time to wander into the strange.
And if you’re already walking the darker roads of fantasy, you might just find yourself right at home among these 

My Adventure with a Professional Editor
​* Every writer eventually reaches that point—you stare at your sales dashboard, squint suspiciously, and whisper:
“Maybe the problem isn’t the readers. Maybe… it’s me.”
And so, fueled by equal parts courage, diluted wine, and self-doubt, I recently bit the bullet (or “bought the bullet,” as my brain apparently insists on phrasing it) and hired a professional editor for Book One of my Celestial Guardians series. The novel formerly known as The Fallen, currently known as Prince of Darkness, and soon to be … who knows.
I wasn’t unhappy with the story. I actually like the story. But writers have a special talent for wondering:
“What if the writing I love is actually terrible?”
“What if my characters are cardboard?”
“What if my plot has more holes than Swiss cheese?”
I assumed my lack of sales must mean the writing was flawed. How’s that for self-esteem? 
So, like a responsible adult (ha), I sent my precious book-baby off to an editor—fully expecting to be emotionally eviscerated for the low price of a Fiverr invoice.
The Deadline Arrives… and So Does RealityToday was the big day: the promised delivery date.
I eagerly downloaded the edited manuscript, opened the file, and--
Cue the sound of a balloon deflating slowly and sadly in the corner.
Where I expected paragraphs of insightful criticism…
Where I hoped for notes on character development, structure, pacing, plot clarity…
Where I braced myself for maybe even a little crying (I had tissues ready!)…
I instead received a glowing book report.
Yes, a book report.
The editor summarized the novel—accurately, I’ll give them that—describing Miriam, Lucifer, the rebellion, the tension, the romance, the celestial drama… It was like reading my back-cover description rewritten by someone who was very enthusiastic and had drunk two cups of very strong coffee. Or maybe a few glasses of wine!
And then came the comments.
The Review That Was Not the Review I ExpectedHere is the best part—the editor’s actual words, which I have now read three times to make sure I didn’t hallucinate them:
“You’re an amazing writer… Your flow was very good… Your tone was perfect… I commend your writing prowess… Great job… Excellent work…”
And somewhere in there:
“I corrected some punctuation and redundancies.”
That’s it.
No critique.
No constructive feedback.
No plot issues.
No “maybe tone down Lucifer’s seductive monologues” or “your battle scenes need tightening” or “Miriam seems confused because you wrote this scene at 2 a.m. while eating chocolate and drinking red wine.”
Nothing. 
Just praise and a few commas moved around.
I sat there blinking at my screen like a malfunctioning angelic automaton.
Where Was My Painful, Character-Building Critique?
I wanted:

• Feedback sharp enough to cut diamonds. 
• Suggestions that would make me rethink my entire life.
• Encouragement layered with just enough sting to be motivating.

Instead, I got:

• A gold star.

Was the book really that polished? Is my writing secretly amazing? Or… did I simply hire the wrong kind of editor?
(If this is Heaven’s way of testing my humility, I would like a refund.)
The Emotional Roller Coaster That EnsuedI cycled through all five stages of editorial grief:

1. Denial:
   “No, surely there must be more comments hiding in the margins…”
2. Anger:
   “I paid MONEY for this. Real money. Not metaphorical writer money.”
3. Bargaining:
   “Maybe if I zoom in to 150% the critique will magically appear?”
4. Depression:
   “My writing career is a cosmic joke and I am the punchline.”
5. Acceptance:
   “Okay fine… maybe I bought a proofreading service instead of the soul-shredding developmental edit I wanted.”

Lessons Learned (So You Don’t Have to Learn Them the Hard Way)
!. Know your editing types. Seriously.There are three main kinds:

• Proofreading: “You missed a comma, friend.” She did this.
• Copyediting: “Your sentence is technically correct but slightly chaotic.”  She did this.
• Developmental Editing: “Let me gently destroy your plot so you can rebuild it stronger.” She did this.

I thought I was buying the third. Reader, I bought all three and I’m pleased with my editor.

2. Low sales don’t always equal bad writing.This one… I’m still processing.
But if an editor said my writing is good, and I’ve been writing since 2009, maybe the problem is:

• Covers... Done 
• Keywords... Yup. Done
• Marketing... Nope. next on the list.
• Blurb... Yup
• Genre placement... Yup.
• The fact that “Celestial Guardians” competes with 2,000 books featuring shirtless angels on the cover

​I’m Still Glad I Did It.
Even though the edit wasn’t what I expected, it did give me:

• A cleaner manuscript
• A confidence boost and
• A clearer understanding of what to do next

​For the record, my editor did provide both copyediting and developmental editing — and did it well. The disappointment I describe wasn’t due to poor work, but to my own expectation that I’d receive a heavier critique, the kind that rips the story apart and helps rebuild it stronger. Writers crave pain, apparently. The humorous tone above reflects my emotional roller coaster more than the editor’s actual performance.