Hey friends!

A few quick notes. First, if you haven't yet read Threadlight, you can currently pick up Voice of War for $0.99!

Also, if you haven't already cast your votes in the r/Fantasy Top Self-Published Novels poll, go give it a go! They run this every year, and it's a great way to share the love of your favorite indie reads.

If you're wondering about Kickstarter updates, the latest can be found here.

And lastly, the Advent of Winter anthology kickstarter is live and fully funded! Okay, so what is the subject line all about? I thought it would be fun—and got permission from the publisher—to share the first few paragraphs of my short story entry in the anthology. This "dark fairytale" is actually the backstory for a character in my new series that won't be introduced until book two. Scroll down to check it out!

How beautiful is that cover?

WRITING UPDATES

The Fall of Cloud Seven has started moving again (up to 30k words). It's a much more ambitious world and project than I've done before, which is why I'm moving so slowly on it. But I really think it's going to blow away anything I've written before. The characters are deeper. The world is richer. Its altogether more magical. And the twists are going to be ***chef's kiss***

I mentioned last month that the short story I wrote didn't quite work how I wanted it to, so I wrote a new one: The Bane of Immortality. This one is (ironically) another backstory piece for a character in Symphony in the Skies, or two characters...kind of. One of them might be a dragon...Shhh. My writing group reviewed it this week and thought it was epic. The anthology it would be a part of has not yet been announced.

EVENTS

YouTube / TONIGHT 9PM EST: I'll be live with the Beard of Darkness to chat about Threadlight and what's coming next. Come stop by and say hey!

Seattle / TOMORROW: This Saturday, I'll be at the Southcenter Barnes and Noble with Travis Baldree (Tor), J.T. Greathouse (Gollancz), and Clay Harmon (Solaris). The best part is that the panel will be moderated by my wife, Bookborn! Would love to see you all there!

Utah: Next month, my wife and I will be attending Sanderson's Dragonsteel convention. She'll be on a few panels, and I'll be a very dapper ghost, wandering the aisles aimlessly. If you're there, come say hi!

THE SNOWMAKER'S CHILD by Zack Argyle

There is a tradition in Elymbeii on the eve of the first snowfall to place a pair of boots on the porch for the Snowmaker’s Child. At ten years old, Elara was old enough to know the truth—her father was never a subtle man—and yet, when she saw snowfall outside of her little home in the woods, she still ran inside to grab an old pair.

The house was quiet without her father and brother around, nothing but old groans and new creaks. She hummed a song her mother used to sing as she bent down to grab the boots. They were too small for her now, but shoes were hard to come by, and her father kept them all, no matter how weathered they may be. She carried them through the hall, past the front door, and set them down on the cold porch out front.

It was still snowing, with sparkling flakes drifting down on the pine-scented breeze, falling gracefully toward the grass and soil, leaving a thin blanket of white. She hesitated as she watched, tempted but resolute. A part of her wanted to run out into the woods and throw herself into a pile of fresh powder, embracing the cold as it inevitably wriggled its way through the gaps in her clothes, pecking at her pale skin.

And laugh...she wanted to laugh.

But she’d made a promise to her father that she’d stay in the house while he and her brother were away. Quiet and alone. A promise to stay safe. He’d already lost their mother to the woods, and he’d never quite been the same; Elara was afraid what would happen to him if he lost his daughter, too.

With no small amount of heartache, she went inside, locked the door, and settled down for the evening. The sun fell early, and she ate her soup under the humble light of an old oil lamp. The broth kept her warm until she was finished, then she ran to her room and hid under a pile of wool blankets, waiting to embrace sweet dreams.

Her eyes shot open as footsteps on the porch broke the silence...

Back the Advent of Winter!