August 2026
The Sorceress of the Bone Grove releases near the end of this month. I’m feeling all the feelings, but most of all, I’m feeling grateful. I’m grateful for you, my dear reader. Thank you for being here.
Life Lately
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about voice. Voice is the individual style an author has and it’s made of many components from word choice, tone, and rhythm, to the types of stories and characters an author creates. Voice is one of those things when you read it you know it, but it can be difficult to teach. When you read something by Rachel Gillig, Jay Kristoff, or Brandon Sanderson, you know they wrote it. Voice is unique to each author, and it took me a long time to find my voice.
The first book I wrote was a mess, but it did teach me something important; it taught me I could write a book. From there, I continued to write, and with each piece that I write, I find I settle deeper into my distinct voice—my style. One of the best things I did for my voice was to branch out.
After I finished writing The Witch and the Thief, I did what I had done previously: I jumped right into writing my next book. It started off great. I did a lot of research, developed the world, characters, and a basic plot outline, but when I started writing it, I lost momentum. I kept hitting a wall and the words just weren’t coming, so I decided to put a pause on that one and take a break by writing some short stories. Through writing these short stories, I had to flex different writing muscles, and I honed my voice and developed my craft even more. I’ve read a lot of books on writing, but ultimately, the best teacher is practice.
The Sorceress of the Bone Grove began as a short story. After several people (thank you, Alicia), told me they could see it as a novella or a book, I decided to expand it. Zouria’s story was larger than a short story. She sank her claws into my heart and demanded more, and I’m so glad she did.
I hope you find her story as complicated and endearing as I did while writing it.
Works in Progress
The Sorceress of the Bone Grove
Will release August 25th.
The Witch and the Thief
Currently three agents have the full manuscript! I’m hopeful one of them will offer representation.
Project God War
Drafting is on pause while I focus on the release of The Sorceress of the Bone Grove.
Duskborn
Revisions are on pause while I focus on the release of The Sorceress of the Bone Grove.
Recent Reads
The River Has Roots by Amal El-Mohtar
Isles of the Emberdark by Brandon Sanderson
Smoke and Scar by Gretchen Powell Fox
Heartless Hunter by Kristen Ciccarelli
Red City by Marie Lu
Phantasma by Kaylie Smith
Muses by Destiny Harrington
Currently reading: Wolf Worm by T. Kingfisher and Innamorata by Ava Reid
Poetry
Phantom I am a phantom drifting through my thoughts haunting them as I dissect them with sharp claws peeling back the layers until I find what’s buried underneath Birds when I was young, I wished I could fly with the birds but at some point I stopped looking up and only noticed the fallen feathers on the ground now I’ve returned to seeing wings spread wide across the open sky
As promised, please find the first chapter to The Sorceress of the Bone Grove below.
With love,
Amanda
The Sorceress of the Bone Grove
Chapter One
The Bargain
Deep in the ancient Moonwood, there was a grove where trees jutted out of the earth like the bones of a long-dead god. Blood-red sap seeped from cracks in the pale white bark, and black moss creeping upwards fed on the remnants of organic magic. Many people feared the Bone Grove, but Zouria wasn’t one of them.
As she drifted through the long shadows cast by the trunks, the air crackled with the dregs of raw, unbridled power. Beneath her feet, fallen sticks snapped like brittle bones. Sharp boughs clawed the air, elongated fingers reaching for her. Zouria ran her pinky across a trunk to gather some of the sticky sap before popping it into her mouth. She inhaled the rich, loamy scent of the grove—the heady familiarity of it wrapped around her—home.
Zouria reached the glade at the heart of the Bone Grove. In the center, a ring of bone trees curved like a giant rib cage around an enormous ancient oak. The soil here was black, dense, and rich. She knelt before the oak and dug her nails into the ground, scraping away the soft dirt by the handful. After several minutes of digging, she found it.
Her heart.
Deep red and pulsating, it nestled in the earth. White roots wound around it like a spider’s web, connecting her to the grove, to the Moonwood, channeling its power into her.
She examined her heart. Even though she often came to check on it, and it was nearly a hundred years ago that she’d carved it out and given it to this grove, she still wasn’t used to seeing it laid so bare. That day, she’d learned the ruinous, vicious nature of men and exactly how far she could go—would go—to survive.
Shoving the memory deep inside, she closed her eyes and remembered her mother and the many times the two of them had walked through the Moonwood. Zouria still ached for her—her rose and vanilla scent. The way she hummed while she did chores. Even as the years dripped by, her memory of Mama never faded. Not a day went by when she didn’t wish that her mother was still here—that Zouria wasn’t all alone.
Zouria trailed a finger down her heart. She’d done what she had to in order to survive, but would her mother have approved? The oak branches shivered, and a prickling sensation crawled up Zouria’s spine. Someone approached her grove. A sharp, piercing pain struck her lower back and spiked up her spine. Her muscles spasmed, her head fell back, and she screamed.
The sudden blast of pain was followed by another and another! Grinding her teeth, Zouria trembled, her nails digging into the dirt.
On a deep inhale, her eyes rolled back as she reached along the thread that tethered her to the grove, and she looked through her trees to locate the culprit. At the edge of the grove, a man chopped into one of her bone trees with an ax.
Anger coiled around her ribs like a snake, quick to lash out and difficult to quell. Who did this man think he was to come to her grove and harm her trees? Over the years, she thought she’d put enough fear into folks. She thought she had proved there was no going home if they entered her grove.
It had been at least a year, maybe two, since someone had dared come here.
Taking several deep breaths, Zouria followed the thread back to herself. The radiating pain in her back ebbed into a dull ache. Did people never learn? She buried her heart in the dirt once more and strode over to the edge of the glade, straight through a tree.
Melding with the trees, she traversed through their root system until she found a tree near the man. As she stepped out of the tree, she heard a muffled thump as the man embedded the ax in the trunk, followed by a grunt as he tore it free. Pain tore through her entire back, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She’d not felt such pain in a long time.
Stumbling into the glade between the Moonwood and her grove, Zouria swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Tree travel wasn’t easy, and her limbs were stiff from the effort.
Taking a moment to collect herself, she eyed the man. The linen shirt he wore stuck to his broad back and shoulders, dampened with sweat. His dark, curly hair was knotted at the base of his head; several loose strands rose with the wind. He must have heard her scream—yet he continued.
Zouria glared as red sap oozed from the cut in the trunk and stuck to the man’s ax blade. He grabbed the rag slung through his work belt and tried to wipe off the sap, but it had already hardened around the edge. Occasionally, folks attempted to harvest the sap, believing it contained traces of her magic, but this man didn’t seem to be here to collect.
The man cursed under his breath at the crimson, crystallized sap.
“Are you not aware of the penalty for attempting to harvest a bone tree?” Zouria demanded. Her voice was raspy from disuse.
Freezing for a moment, the man’s gaze snapped to her. His nostrils flared, and he straightened, gripping the ax handle with both hands. “I am. I take it you’re the sorceress?”
Raising a brow, Zouria glanced down at her dark cloak, the tangle of blood-red hair that fell to her waist, and her long black nails covered in dirt. She flashed him a wicked sneer, keeping her red eyes trained on him. “What gave it away?”
The man remained still, but Zouria caught the slight flex of his fingers around the wooden shaft of the ax as he said, “I require your attention.”
“You certainly have a violent way of asking for it.” Villagers did this from time to time. They thought to appeal to her with various requests, ignoring all the warnings—all the tales passed down about the evil sorceress of the Bone Grove—thinking they could convince her to release them when all others failed. But Zouria bent to the will of no one. She hadn’t cut out her heart to be beholden to men and their fickle requests.
“I need you to know that I am serious.” The man withdrew a chisel from his work belt and tapped the hardened sap. It burst apart and showered the ground in glittering red teardrops.
Zouria bared her teeth as her eyes widened at the red resin glimmering on the ground. “Impossible.” The snake around her ribs tensed, preparing to strike.
“Sorcerer Yin enchanted this ax,” the man said matter-of-factly, but Zouria noticed hesitance in his gaze, an underlying sadness in the sagging of his shoulders that caught her off guard. She was used to confronting resentment, fear, even desire…but sadness?
Ever since Zouria turned Sorcerer Yin away several decades before, he’d envied her skill, though it would seem his own had expanded since she’d last seen him.
At the mention of his name, her lip curled as though she smelled something unpleasant. Sorcerer Yin sent little spies every so often—fake birds and bizarre metal things to poke and prod at her grove and test her sorcery—but she always found and destroyed them.
She did her best to tamp down her rage.
Zouria assessed this brazen man, this latest threat. He had a weapon, but he was in her grove; he had no standing here. She straightened, flexing her fingers. “You may wield a blade that can cut through my trees, but I can still cut through you.”
She connected to the thread tethering her to the trees and followed it to the nearest one. Zouria flicked her wrist. A sharpened branch whipped forth, aiming straight for the back of his exposed neck, but it glanced off his skin as though it were stone.
It was as if someone had yanked a rug from under her. This had never happened. She rubbed her chest; the connection was still there. So, what had happened?
The man sighed, his dark eyes somber, almost apologetic. “He also provided me a protection charm.”
Zouria hissed. Her muscles tensed. If she couldn’t stop him, how many of her trees could he harm? What if he reaches my heart? He remained still as the ax glinted between them. It’d been many decades since anyone had threatened her. She’d forgotten what fear felt like: clutching at her spine and leaving an acrid taste in her mouth.
She hid the tremble in her hands by clenching her fists, feeling her nails pierce her palms until she drew blood. She’d sworn never to allow men to make her afraid again.
“I’ve come to bargain with you,” the man said. For the first time, he shifted his ax ever so slightly downward.
Her eyes narrowed. Zouria did not bargain, but what choice did she have? At least hearing him out would give her time to think. “Go on.”
“I need you to free my son. He was a foolish youth.” The man’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “He was goaded by some friends nearly three years ago to try and harvest some sap.”
“And you want him back?” Zouria sneered.
Zouria followed the thread of her power. It channeled along the ground, following the deep roots of her grove, and sure enough, as she suspected, she couldn’t seize him.
“I’ll trade places with him,” the man pleaded, grimacing at the nearby tree still oozing sap. “All I ask is that you set him free.”
At the word, free, Zouria ran the tip of her tongue along the back of her teeth. She’d never released anyone. It would set a bad precedent and make others think they’d have a chance to escape. People could grow bold at the tiniest chance of hope.
“What of the protection charm?” she questioned.
“You can’t make me into one of your trees, but you can still bind me to you. I promise to willingly do your bidding for the rest of my days—only if you let my son go.” The man swallowed, and Zouria watched his throat bob, smelled his sweat on the air. “Please.”
Zouria thought it strange that this man would negotiate with her instead of trying to force her hand. What was he truly after? She could accept his offer, trap him here and release his son. But what if his son decided to try to save him?
No, that wouldn’t do. She preferred her solitude and didn’t want a companion, especially a strange man she couldn’t trust.
Yet if she denied him, he could attack. How strong was this protection charm? Zouria wasn’t certain she could break it, and she didn’t like uncertainty.
Perhaps the best move for now would be to go along with him. A protection charm of this magnitude could be useful. After all, if Sorcerer Yin had provided this man with one, what was to stop him from warding others, or even coming to the grove himself? Better she learn the workings of this charm and how to break it. Small hairs at the nape of her neck stood and unease churned in her stomach.
Finally, Zouria snarled, “You must swear to never harm me or my trees, and pledge fealty to me for the remainder of your life.”
“You’ll release my son?”
“I will release your son, and I swear to leave you—” she looked him up and down, with disdain, “in this form. But your son must also take an oath to never seek vengeance or try to free you. Those are my terms. Do you accept?”
The man bowed his head. “Yes.”
“Then make your offering to me.” She ran a pointed nail down the center of her dirt-crusted palm, opening a gash amid the pricks her nails had already made.
The man sliced his palm along the blade of his ax and closed the distance between them. He grasped her hand. As their blood mingled, invisible bands lashed out and up their arms, snapping the binding into place. Several yards away, one of the trees began to transform. The bark sloughed away, revealing human skin, and it shrank down, widening until it became a person crouched on the ground.
You are so damn amazing 🤩