Yesterday brought confirmation for my fourth event of the year: Ohio Renaissance Festival! It’s a fortuitous time to receive this news. I’m gonna get a little sappy here, so I’ll put the non-sappy part in bold for those of you who come just for Ambergrove.
So, there’s this old wives’ tale that may or may not be true. Basically, because of how skin grows, every seven years, you have completely new skin. As someone with physical scars from childhood, I know that isn’t true, but as someone with other scars from a bit later, I’ve always wanted it to be true. At the very least, it’s a nice thought. A transformative metaphor.
So. Seven years. Seven years ago, I was a few days away from meeting my husband for the first time. I’d spent so long slogging along, not doing anything for myself. The fire that burned in me when I was younger, when I’d walked the hills in Scotland and was so full of wonder, imagination, and a passion for the things I love had long since fizzled out, and I hadn’t written anything in years that wasn’t for school. Then the epitome of every fantasy I’d imagined as a child walked across a bridge in a park and into my life.
A month later, we went to Ohio Renaissance Festival. I’d been there nearly every year growing up, but I hadn’t been since my fire had fizzled out. We watched the Mudde Show, and we saw the Swordsmen. I shared that with him just under seven years ago. On the anniversary of that weekend a few years later, we got married there.
Seven years ago, my life changed. I can look back at so many things that changed over the years as those metaphorical layers of skin were shed. Since this is about Ambergrove, I’ll stick to that. I met Mr. Martineau, and I went to ORF. Who I am was encouraged. What I love was encouraged. I stayed up late and read the Blackthorn & Grim books in one sitting each day they came out. I read because I wanted to, and I read my favorite author. I imagined stories. I used that love during my brief time as a teacher. I was encouraged to do those things I loved that stoked the fire of fantasy and imagination. Stoked me.
And then I wrote. And Ambergrove was rekindled with me.
Now, the Dragonwolf trilogy is complete. The GW is complete. I’m working on Ember in the Forge and preparing for events. Next week is my second signing at a bookstore! October 1 is my second author fair at a library! October 15 is ORF. I’m going back to the festival that first awoke the fire, but this time, it’s not as a kid full of wonder at a new adventure or an adult full of wonder as I walked down the aisle or through the dirt paths that shaped so much of my childhood. This time it’s as an author. I’m not the kid begging my parents to let me get a cool fantasy book I saw; I’m crossing my fingers that those parents will say yes to the kid with the fairy wings, the teen with the knitted Viking beard hat, the adult whose fire is kindled by a walk through those dirt paths.
Seven years.
Seven years, and I’ll be sitting at ORF with three published books. Because seven years ago, a man walked across a bridge in a park and changed my life.
I hope some of you swing by ORF in a couple months. I’d love to see you and be the bad influence telling you to get that book. Get my book. Take a trip to Ambergrove. Find your fire.
Until then, I’ll be working on Hammer and Flame and bringing you Ember’s story.
Seven years.
Think back seven years. Maybe you’re in the middle and your seven years isn’t here yet. Whether you stoke your own fire or someone comes into your life and hands you the poker, you’re due for a transformation when you hit your seven-year moment. Wherever you are on that journey, you’re on it. Journeys have winding paths and false starts. Sometimes you have to go backward before going forward. But you’re on the adventure right now. You’re living it. Keep going. Cherish that seven-year moment and every moment that led you to it.
Until next time, adventurers.





















