Today, I am highlighting new author, Timothy Michael Hurst. Timothy is the son of one of my favourite authors, Vikki Kestell. I have been blessed by her writing. From the description of The Kinsman's Tree, it seems that the writing gene may have been passed onto Timothy! I am very impressed with this description and it looks like this is going to be a great read.
The other reason I am highlighting him, is that he is a debut author and I like to promote new authors as they need all the support and promotion they can get, especially Christian authors.
So without any further ado, let me hand you over to Timothy.
The other reason I am highlighting him, is that he is a debut author and I like to promote new authors as they need all the support and promotion they can get, especially Christian authors.
So without any further ado, let me hand you over to Timothy.
Thanks for dropping by, Timothy. Let's start with you telling us a little about yourself.
I am a writer who believes that the life lived best is lived in service to God, and that only under the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit one might produce a worthwhile work. I seek to craft entertaining, enriching, and inspiring tales that glorify the Lord in confidence that the Holy Spirit will use them to change lives and draw people closer to Jesus Christ.
In simply offering myself in surrender to the Spirit, I have discovered the satisfaction of worshiping the Lord as an instrument of the writing process. I believe my experience be confirmation of God’s calling on my life, and pray that each and every person is as deeply transformed in reading these stories as I was in writing them. To Him alone be the glory, for I am author of naught.
Now let's have a look at The Kinsman's Tree. which will be released on June 19, 2017 first in e-book edition:
In simply offering myself in surrender to the Spirit, I have discovered the satisfaction of worshiping the Lord as an instrument of the writing process. I believe my experience be confirmation of God’s calling on my life, and pray that each and every person is as deeply transformed in reading these stories as I was in writing them. To Him alone be the glory, for I am author of naught.
Now let's have a look at The Kinsman's Tree. which will be released on June 19, 2017 first in e-book edition:
Introducing the first novel in an epic new adventure series from Timothy Michael Hurst, The Kinsman’s Tree.
Enter a magical world where unlikely heroes battle strange and powerful enemies. The world has fallen under the dominion of the evil Empire of Chōl and its mysterious and threatening wraith army, the Nihúkolem. Hidden away in the village of Endego, a race of tiny creatures, the Etom, struggle to survive.
Join two Etom, Nat and Nida, on an intriguing journey to discover the origins of the Empire’s power and its undoing. Supernatural events guide them as they seek to solve the mystery and locate the world’s only remaining hope, the Kinsman.
Bravery, peril, romance, and meaningful truth abound throughout, artfully interwoven to maintain the excitement and interest of any reader.
I asked Timothy why he wrote the The Kinsman's Tree:
Enter a magical world where unlikely heroes battle strange and powerful enemies. The world has fallen under the dominion of the evil Empire of Chōl and its mysterious and threatening wraith army, the Nihúkolem. Hidden away in the village of Endego, a race of tiny creatures, the Etom, struggle to survive.
Join two Etom, Nat and Nida, on an intriguing journey to discover the origins of the Empire’s power and its undoing. Supernatural events guide them as they seek to solve the mystery and locate the world’s only remaining hope, the Kinsman.
Bravery, peril, romance, and meaningful truth abound throughout, artfully interwoven to maintain the excitement and interest of any reader.
I asked Timothy why he wrote the The Kinsman's Tree:
I wrote The Kinsman’s Tree to provide perspective on the damaging and oppressive effect of sin, and to share the Gospel of our available freedom from it (sin). I have incorporated several sub-themes as well, such as the restorative love of saints in community, and the self-sacrificial love of believers in a missional lifestyle.
If what you have now read has whetted your appetite for more, here is an excerpt. Timothy has also provided a reason for this excerpt:
The below excerpt introduces a primary character, Mūk-Mudón, who is a dashing, charismatic warrior whose actions ultimately impact the entire world.
The below excerpt introduces a primary character, Mūk-Mudón, who is a dashing, charismatic warrior whose actions ultimately impact the entire world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Start of Excerpt~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the clash of the cymbal, both threw their knives with blinding speed. The two throws were so alike in speed and trajectory that they zipped past one another, cutting the air over the center of the pitch in an “X” as they drove toward their targets. Mūk-Mudón’s knife, however, began to fall apart as it approached the target, though the speed of the throw was such that bits of his knife yet reached the dangling target, stirring it gently.
The more fortunate Imafel’s knife remained whole, and sunk deep into the target to Mūk-Mudón’s right, the tip of the blade piercing the target completely to show through its back side. The force of Imafel’s knife sent the target whipping wildly at the end of its tether, and Mūk-Mudón sighed in disappointment, awaiting the eventual sting of the migas once the target had stilled enough to activate the pounding mechanism.
On a peripheral level, Mūk-Mudón understood that even this lull as he awaited the migas’ painful sting was meant to shake his resolve. In the forefront of his mind, however, he was honestly rather excited to experience their sting. He had every expectation from the start he might endure the venom, and had found the effects on the prior contest’s loser interesting, to say the least.
Observing from the sidelines how much Mūk-Mudón was enjoying this, Belláphorus rolled his eyes, shook his head, and threw his hands in the air as he turned away from Mūk-Mudón.
Placing his hands on his hips maternally, he spun back around and pointed a finger at Mūk-Mudón, “I’m not carrying you around on my back all day! Not again!”
Without turning to look his friend, Mūk-Mudón waved, a slightly silly grin on his face. Imafel with chagrin recognized that his opponent wasn’t shaken in the slightest at the prospect of the migas’ sting. He glanced over at the large red-head on the sidelines, and smirked, happy to see he wasn’t the only one vexed.
All this passed in the few short moments as the target stilled. Overhead, counterweights ratcheted noisily and the hammer fell. Mūk-Mudón closed his eyes, ignored the gasps of the crowd, and fell deep into his own awareness. From the outside, it might have appeared that Mūk-Mudón sought to escape impending pain when, in truth, he shuttered all other senses to focus on the agony.
The hammer banged noisily into the right side of the box, and again the migas stirred, buzzing angrily inside. Mūk-Mudón felt the first set of mandibles sink into the flesh atop his right foot, then pain exploded across his perception, splashing searing, white light against the inside of his eyelids. He resisted the urge to withdraw from the torment, and instead bent all his will on exploring the plentiful misery, discovering its roots within flesh, nerves, mind, and heart.
Long ago, Mūk-Mudón had decided that pain itself was not an obstacle. Fear was the barrier to victory, cowering in consequence of pain, harm, and humiliation. This was a challenge he intended to overcome. For a few long moments, he endured silently, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face, and legs trembling. Finally, the waves of torment ceased to beat upon the shore of his awareness, and he opened his eyes to find the world quite a different place.
Mūk-Mudón blinked once, and then again, attempting to clear his vision, which the migas’ poison had distorted. While the center of his focus remained mostly clear, the edges of his vision swam and drifted, clouded in a yellowing haze.
It was distracting, and moderately disorienting, but not insurmountable. By shifting his focus, he could yet make out the knives before him, Imafel across from him, and the targets overhead his opponent. Shifting his focus, however, revealed more difficulties, as his focus invariably drifted loosely past his intended target, requiring he correct his focus again, yet gently so as not to scoot past what he wished to see clearly.
It was a tedious effort, and one in which he would have failed if not for his prodigious willpower. Once he had affixed his focus to a target, it was difficult to keep it there, as at random his gaze might meander. His eyes having wandered a few times, the image of the old spectator striking the side of his head sprung to Mūk-Mudón’s mind. He chuckled, again unsettling Imafel, who had yet to see an adversary laugh after feeling the migas’ sting.
Mimicking the old man, Mūk-Mudón batted the side of his head with a palm, and found it quite effective in correcting his vision. Momentarily pondering the codger’s lazy eye, Mūk-Mudón wondered if the fellow had also been stung a time or two, perhaps leaving his vision permanently stymied. No matter. Right now, Mūk-Mudón intended to win the contest, if only to prove to himself he could, and so reached for one of the knives before him.
It was then that he discovered just how much it seemed the venom had sapped his physical strength. His right hand felt slow and heavy in reaching for one of the knives, and put him off balance such that he nearly fell over, doubling instead at the waist due to his inability to fall, locked in at the ankles as he was.
Strange…how slowly his hand extended. An interesting thought occurred to him, and he decided on a quick experiment. The crowd murmured in perplexity and impatience at the odd, golden-haired youth’s behavior while Belláphorus watched his friend closely with eager anticipation. Mūk-Mudón would succeed brilliantly, to everyone’s surprise but his. Belláphorus had seen Mūk-Mudón work through a hundred such seemingly hopeless situations, each time winning through in unexpected, daring fashion.
Mūk-Mudón felt inside his pouch for another coin. It didn’t matter what kind. As quickly as he was able, he pulled the coin out, focused on it best he could, and dropped it. The coin ever so heavily and slowly tumbled to the ground, where Mūk-Mudón observed the grains of sand splashing around the coin where it struck. Uttering another chuckle, this one louder, Mūk-Mudón turned his focus back to the game, more confident than ever in his victory.
The more fortunate Imafel’s knife remained whole, and sunk deep into the target to Mūk-Mudón’s right, the tip of the blade piercing the target completely to show through its back side. The force of Imafel’s knife sent the target whipping wildly at the end of its tether, and Mūk-Mudón sighed in disappointment, awaiting the eventual sting of the migas once the target had stilled enough to activate the pounding mechanism.
On a peripheral level, Mūk-Mudón understood that even this lull as he awaited the migas’ painful sting was meant to shake his resolve. In the forefront of his mind, however, he was honestly rather excited to experience their sting. He had every expectation from the start he might endure the venom, and had found the effects on the prior contest’s loser interesting, to say the least.
Observing from the sidelines how much Mūk-Mudón was enjoying this, Belláphorus rolled his eyes, shook his head, and threw his hands in the air as he turned away from Mūk-Mudón.
Placing his hands on his hips maternally, he spun back around and pointed a finger at Mūk-Mudón, “I’m not carrying you around on my back all day! Not again!”
Without turning to look his friend, Mūk-Mudón waved, a slightly silly grin on his face. Imafel with chagrin recognized that his opponent wasn’t shaken in the slightest at the prospect of the migas’ sting. He glanced over at the large red-head on the sidelines, and smirked, happy to see he wasn’t the only one vexed.
All this passed in the few short moments as the target stilled. Overhead, counterweights ratcheted noisily and the hammer fell. Mūk-Mudón closed his eyes, ignored the gasps of the crowd, and fell deep into his own awareness. From the outside, it might have appeared that Mūk-Mudón sought to escape impending pain when, in truth, he shuttered all other senses to focus on the agony.
The hammer banged noisily into the right side of the box, and again the migas stirred, buzzing angrily inside. Mūk-Mudón felt the first set of mandibles sink into the flesh atop his right foot, then pain exploded across his perception, splashing searing, white light against the inside of his eyelids. He resisted the urge to withdraw from the torment, and instead bent all his will on exploring the plentiful misery, discovering its roots within flesh, nerves, mind, and heart.
Long ago, Mūk-Mudón had decided that pain itself was not an obstacle. Fear was the barrier to victory, cowering in consequence of pain, harm, and humiliation. This was a challenge he intended to overcome. For a few long moments, he endured silently, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face, and legs trembling. Finally, the waves of torment ceased to beat upon the shore of his awareness, and he opened his eyes to find the world quite a different place.
Mūk-Mudón blinked once, and then again, attempting to clear his vision, which the migas’ poison had distorted. While the center of his focus remained mostly clear, the edges of his vision swam and drifted, clouded in a yellowing haze.
It was distracting, and moderately disorienting, but not insurmountable. By shifting his focus, he could yet make out the knives before him, Imafel across from him, and the targets overhead his opponent. Shifting his focus, however, revealed more difficulties, as his focus invariably drifted loosely past his intended target, requiring he correct his focus again, yet gently so as not to scoot past what he wished to see clearly.
It was a tedious effort, and one in which he would have failed if not for his prodigious willpower. Once he had affixed his focus to a target, it was difficult to keep it there, as at random his gaze might meander. His eyes having wandered a few times, the image of the old spectator striking the side of his head sprung to Mūk-Mudón’s mind. He chuckled, again unsettling Imafel, who had yet to see an adversary laugh after feeling the migas’ sting.
Mimicking the old man, Mūk-Mudón batted the side of his head with a palm, and found it quite effective in correcting his vision. Momentarily pondering the codger’s lazy eye, Mūk-Mudón wondered if the fellow had also been stung a time or two, perhaps leaving his vision permanently stymied. No matter. Right now, Mūk-Mudón intended to win the contest, if only to prove to himself he could, and so reached for one of the knives before him.
It was then that he discovered just how much it seemed the venom had sapped his physical strength. His right hand felt slow and heavy in reaching for one of the knives, and put him off balance such that he nearly fell over, doubling instead at the waist due to his inability to fall, locked in at the ankles as he was.
Strange…how slowly his hand extended. An interesting thought occurred to him, and he decided on a quick experiment. The crowd murmured in perplexity and impatience at the odd, golden-haired youth’s behavior while Belláphorus watched his friend closely with eager anticipation. Mūk-Mudón would succeed brilliantly, to everyone’s surprise but his. Belláphorus had seen Mūk-Mudón work through a hundred such seemingly hopeless situations, each time winning through in unexpected, daring fashion.
Mūk-Mudón felt inside his pouch for another coin. It didn’t matter what kind. As quickly as he was able, he pulled the coin out, focused on it best he could, and dropped it. The coin ever so heavily and slowly tumbled to the ground, where Mūk-Mudón observed the grains of sand splashing around the coin where it struck. Uttering another chuckle, this one louder, Mūk-Mudón turned his focus back to the game, more confident than ever in his victory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~End of Excerpt~~~~~~~~~~~~
You can follow Timothy on Facebook as well as his blog:
We have opened a publishing house, Vixen and Grove, which is on Facebook and Twitter. Our website is in development.
If this has whetted your appetite to buy The Kinsman's Tree or read a further excerpt, then click on the BUY/PREVIEW icons below:
Readers and reviews are an author's best asset, so I encourage any reader who likes reading in the genres of Christian inspirational, action and adventure, fantasy, to consider reading The Kinsman's Tree and submit a review on Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and on Google+, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest (or any other social media you subscribe to).
So proud of you, Tim, and your first book!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mom!
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