3 Years of Blogging + Snippets From NaNo!!

It all began on December 3rd of 2017. I remember it so clearly: 13-year-old me, sitting at the computer, carefully setting up my blog for the very first time. I was so excited!!

And now here we are.

Posting every single week since that day in 2017.

8,000+ total views.

150+ total blog posts

175+ followers

16 years old.

It has been 3 years!!! How in the world has three years gone by since I started? This is insane!

First and foremost, those numbers above are just what they are–numbers. What matters to me more than those is you guys. The people who actually care enough about what I write to sit down and read it. To leave a comment. To come back each week to check in and read the new post. You guys mean the world to me! Thanks so much! I could never have done this without you!

All right! Enough of that! Thanks again everyone for your support!

Now, I want to share with you guys two snippets from Trusting the Enemy.

(Oh, by the way, another quick announcement–Trusting the Enemy is officially a completed first draft!!!!!! At 76,000+ words, it is now done! Woohoo!)

Here are the snippets:

Paul and Simon made it all the way through the village and out into open farmland before Simon slowed to a stop, gasping for breath. “All right…we…need…a breather!”

“Agreed,” Paul said, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily, but not nearly as much as Simon. He was tall and thin—well built for running. Simon looked up at him wryly, studying his cheerful gray eyes, bright and shining from the exertion of the run.

“Are you even phased?” he gasped, his lungs on fire. His throat burned as well and his teeth ached from sucking in the chilly air.

Paul shrugged and let out a chuckle. “Hey, we can’t all be good at everything.”

“No we can’t,” Simon agreed, beginning to walk. He swept the surrounding land with his eyes, searching for a suitable spot to sit down. He could hear the bubble of a creek nearby, and walked in the direction of the noise. Simon and Paul found the creek moments later in a small grove of wild trees, tall brush, and other foliage. They seated themselves on two flat, comfortable rocks. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company and catching their breath.

“So you’re a Champion,” Simon said at last, mulling over the thought.

“I am,” Paul said, blinking and looking up at the night stars. “Its hard to believe. I’ve put so much work into my training. So much time. And…well, this is it. I made it.”

Simon smiled at his best friend and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m very proud of you.”

Paul nodded. “Thanks. It’s crazy…thinking I’m now a higher rank than my knight friends. We’ve been working together for so long. Helped each other through so many things. Now I’m moving on and they aren’t.”

“Not everyone can be or even wants to be a Champion, you know,” Simon said. “Its all about skill and passion. Take my story for example. I was a farmer’s son! I signed up for the military to serve my kingdom. I was a nobody. And then…then Commander Gray saw me in the ranks. Saw my diligence. My focus. And he picked me to train to become a Champion. I wasn’t of noble birth, or a knight before hand. Its not about that. And I think that’s the great thing about Champions. They’re only the best of the best. And you, my friend, were picked wisely,” Simon smiled again at his friend.

They lapsed into silence once again. Paul studied the stars, the light of the moon washing over his face. Simon let out a quiet sigh and leaned forward over the water of the creek. He studied his face in the reflection. Long brown hair almost covering his bright green eyes. A solid jaw. Powerful shoulders and arms, but not nearly as muscular or as tall as most Champions.

Was I picked well? Simon thought, looking into his own eyes. They had seen much, and revealed an older, mature soul inside the youthful face of a twenty-five-year-old. I’m not as big as most Champions. Not as strong. I’m a good swordfighter, but Paul is bigger, can run faster. But I try my best. Nothing will stop me from protecting Nestinblade until my dying breath. I will remain diligent. Remain strong. I must never let anything turn me from my path. Whether it be this uprising group of rebels, or dragons from the mountains of Julistar, I will fight.

Copyright © 2020, Caleb E. King. All rights reserved.
Note: This piece of work has been specifically selected and edited for the convenience of the readers, and came from a story in progress. Not a final piece of the story.

I like this scene! Its really cool, I like seeing my characters talking and discussing things. It always makes them feel more real and genuine!

Here’s the second snippet:

Jard’s fist fell, and it shot down to the hilt of his sword, drawing the weapon easily from the scabbard. He let out a loud cry and burst through the foliage, leaping straight into the middle of the camp.

“For Nestinblade! For the king!” his deep voice bellowed.

“For Nestinblade!” Simon echoed, jumping out with Jard and sliding his own broadsword out and into the afternoon air.

“Nestinblade! Nestinblade!” Soldiers poured out of the forest, lowering their spears and charging straight into the camp. Rebels were looking up, drawing weapons and forming ranks.

The foot soldiers charged ahead, and, to Simon’s surprise, a group of rebels had all ready formed and were rushing out to meet them.

What? I thought we were catching them off guard! Why are they…why are they ready for us?

Jard rushed out to support his soldiers, swinging his sword left and right, and Simon did the same.

The ranks of soldiers only lasted for so long, and soon it was a scattered fight, with groups of men teaming up on one and each Nestinblade soldier or Insurgent fending for himself.

Simon found himself up against two rebels carrying spears. He ducked under the first’s attack with a grunt of effort, then rammed his sword into the helmet of the unsuspecting second rebel. He collapsed with a gargled yell, and Simon turned on the first again, yelling to keep up his strength. The first rebel had recovered from his unsuccessful thrust and spun on his heel. The spear and the sword met, the sword slicing through the spear’s wooden shaft with ease. The rebel gulped and dropped it, fumbling to draw the sword at his belt. Simon pressed his advantage, stepping forward and slamming his elbow into the rebel’s chest. The rebel fell back, tripping over a root and slamming into the ground. He gasped for air. Simon stood over him. The rebel looked up, fear in his eyes, staring into Simon’s.

“No…please!”

Simon thrust the sword down.

Copyright © 2020, Caleb E. King. All rights reserved.
Note: This piece of work has been specifically selected and edited for the convenience of the readers, and came from a story in progress. Not a final piece of the story.

EEEE so intense!!

Uff…just reading these again after I just finished the first draft makes me cringe. Oh well! The writing doesn’t have to be perfect in the first draft, it just has to be down on a page.

All right! That’s all for this week! Thanks again so much everyone for 3 whole years of blogging! Here’s to many more!!

Until later,