News

Extra Music to Enjoy

I’m including extra digital sheet music (over 100 songs) with the purchase of “As Saints We

There are even more reasons to pick up a copy of “As Saints We Sing!” Over 100 more!

You can purchase the collection here: https://amzn.to/3a6O4Hm

Besides the 179 songs you get by purchasing “As Saints We Sing”, purchasing the collection also entitles you to three digital freebies! 

  1. Classic Hymn Collection: A collection of sixty classic Christian hymns from various traditions in SATB arrangements. 
  2. As Youth We Sing: A collection of twenty-seven original children’s songs that help teach the Gospel. 
  3. Special Music Numbers: A collection of eighteen special numbers for a variety of cultures. 

That’s an additional 105 songs! 

To claim your free copies of all three collections, do the following: 

  1. Send a proof of purchase for “As Saints We Sing” to thecanticlekingdom@gmail.com.
  2. Join my author contact list on the homepage of https://authormichaelyoung.com/

I will then send you a PDF copy of all three collections. 

If you want access to these digital collections without purchasing “As Saints We Sing”, you can send me $10 through Venmo (Username: @mdybyu), and I will send you all three collections. 

Enjoy!

“As Saints We Sing”

After many years of work, my hymn collection, “As Saints We Sing” is now available, starting September 14th! I’d like to thank all the many composers, lyricists, and other collaborators who made this collection a reality! I had the idea for it all the way back in 2015 while hearing a church choir sing in a church I was visiting. I started brainstorming on that day and I’ve been working hard on it ever since. I wanted to create a collection that focuses more on latter-day saint doctrines and also breathes new life into beloved texts that we have sung for years at church.

Here’s a little about the collection:

As Saints We Sing features the beautiful arrangements of 176 beloved hymns by various Latter-day Saint lyricists and composers that focus on the restoration of\nThe Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Many are original works, appearing for the first time in print, and some are specifically for Easter and Christmas. These songs include all four parts (SATB) and highlight the Church’s unique doctrines. Some of the selections found within these pages are

• A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief

• Dearest Children, God Is Near You

• Christ the Lord Is Risen Today

• God Be with You Till We Meet Again

• I Need Thee Every Hour

• O Holy Night

• The Spirit of God

• Nearer My God to Thee

Draw closer to God with this priceless collection of religious favorites. Enjoy the timeless melodies and inspired lyrics that are tender reminders of the Church’s sacred and sometimes poignant history.
This outstanding book is an indispensable addition to any Latter-day Saint library.

The collection is spiral-bound for easier use on pianos and organs.

To order (or pre-order) the collection, please click here.

The Thirst

Come enter my book launch giveaway here: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/dc594cba39/

Book 2 of The Penultimate Dawn trilogy is finally here! The adventure started in “The Hunger” continues:

After the catastrophic events of the Wrath, Azil and his companions wake up to a world completely transformed. The monstrous Mals are acting strangely, driven even deeper into their madness by a new and terrible sensation called the Thirst. The different Aspects of Rahim are now at war with each other, some trying to unite the power of all the Aspects again, while others fight to keep them apart. For Azil and his companions, the keys to ending the conflict lie both in a long-forgotten city deep below the earth, and high in the heavens on the moons that hang over the Realm. Even with the help of his newfound powers and allies, Azil is not sure he can win this dangerous contest that threatens to destroy all hopes of a new dawn.

Come read a sample and order it on Amazon.com.

LDStorymakers Presentations

Thank you to all of you who came to my presentations at LDStorymakers this year. I always have a wonderful time presenting, especially when I have good audiences. For those of you who attended and wanted my notes, or who couldn’t attend and wanted to see them anyway, here you go! There first is about using music in your fiction, while the second is about creating your own audio books, much like I do for my work with BigWorldNetwork.com.

Weaving Threads of Song Presentation

Creating Audio Books

Please let me know if you have any questions!

Mysteries of Cove, book 1: Fires of Invention by J. Scott Savage

 

Myteries of COVE_coverAuthor Note:

Like many of my books, the inspiration for my new series Fires of Invention came from the collision of two ideas. The first time the story occurred to me was while I was watching the musical Wicked with my wife. The moment I walked into the theater and saw the huge mechanical dragon above the stage, I thought, Wow! I have to write a story about that! A few weeks later, I was talking with my nephew, who is probably the most creative kid I know, but whose inventiveness often gets him into trouble, and I thought, What if a kid who had the talents of my nephew lived in a world where creativity was against the law? What if the kids were building . . . a steam-powered dragon? Bam! I had my story.

Powered by great feedback from my agent, Michael Bourret, my good friend and author James Dashner, my publisher, Chris Schoebinger, and the song “Warriors” by Imagine Dragons, I wrote the entire first draft of the first volume in the series, Mysteries of Cove in four weeks. This book is unlike anything I have ever written. There are elements of City of Ember, Dragon Riders, and Hugo in it all mashed up together in a world I fell in love with from the moment I started writing.

I think what’s most exciting to me about this book is that it’s about giving yourself the freedom to imagine. To take chances. Too often we limit ourselves by only trying things we’re confident we can succeed at when what we need to do is give ourselves permission to fail. Often it is when we attempt things with no idea of how we can possibly pull them off that we achieve our greatest successes.

Book Description:

STEAMPUNK! Plus Dragons!

Trenton Colman is a creative thirteen-year-old boy with a knack for all things mechanical. But his talents are viewed with suspicion in Cove, a steam-powered city built inside a mountain. In Cove, creativity is a crime and “invention” is a curse word. Kallista Babbage is a repair technician and daughter of the notorious Leo Babbage, whose father died in an explosion-an event the leaders of Cove point to as an example of the danger of creativity.

Working together, Trenton and Kallista learn that Leo Babbage was developing a secret project before he perished. Following clues he left behind, they begin to assemble a strange machine that is unlikely anything they’ve ever seen before. They soon discover that what they are building may threaten every truth their city is founded on-and quite possibly their very lives.

Author Bio:

savage, j. scott

Scott Savage is the author of the Farworld middle grade fantasy series and the Case File 13 middle grade monster series. He has been writing and publishing books for over ten years. He has visited over 400 elementary schools, dozens of writers conferences, and taught many writing classes. He has four children and lives with his wife Jennifer and their Border Collie, Pepper, in a windy valley of the Rocky Mountains.

FACEBOOK:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/J-Scott-Savage/55805743891
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/jscottsavage

INSTAGRAM: jscottsavage

WEBSITE: www.jscottsavage.com

Sacramental Reflections

916aZnHcZqL

Purchase: http://amzn.com/1629720224

These devotional reflections from the heart of Truman G. Madsen can help bring you face to face with yourself as you prepare to meet Christ at the sacrament table each week. There is a feast awaiting the honest guest who accepts the Lord’s invitation to bring to the altar a “broken heart and a contrite
spirit.” Alma promises it will “begin to be delicious” (Alma 32:28) and that “ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled” (Alma 32:42). Find new meaning in the sacrament and new resolve as you participate in this sacred ordinance. A perfect Easter gift for adult children.

Truman G. Madsen received graduate degrees in philosophy and the philosophy of religion from the University of Utah and Harvard. He served as the director of the Judeo-Christian Studies Center at BYU and as director of the Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies. He is widely recognized as an expert
on the life and teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Brother Madsen, who passed away in the summer of 2009, was a prolific author who is also known for his memorable audio and video
presentations on a variety of gospel subjects.

This is Jesus

jesus

Purchase: http://amzn.com/1629720186

With Artwork by J. Kirk Richards

The life of the Savior is portrayed in stunning fine art pieces by award-winning artist J. Kirk Richards. These striking new images were created by the artist exclusively for this book.

Accompanied by a harmonized account of the Savior’s ministry, Atonement, and Resurrection, these exquisite paintings reflect a deep reverence for Christ’s mission and sacrifice. Each page is beautifully designed to complement the unique style of the artist. A perfect reminder of the true reason we celebrate the Easter season, this handsome volume will be treasured by the entire family for years to come.

The award-winning artwork of J. Kirk Richards has been featured in galleries across the United States and in various exhibits, publications, and documentary films. His work is highly sought after by collectors (eleven of the seventeen original paintings for this book sold within 24 hours). He has studied with many notable artists, including an apprenticeship with Swiss-born symbolist Patrick Devonas. Kirk and his family reside in Woodland Hills, Utah.

The Continuous Atonement for Teens

th

Purchase: http://amzn.com/162972016X

Brad Wilcox’s The Continuous Atonement  is a landmark work that helps to clarify what the Atonement is—and what it isn’t.

It corrects misperceptions and offers hope to those who struggle again and again.

This teen adaptation will help teenagers better understand and apply the Atonement in their lives and help them teach the nuances of the Atonement to others, whether on a mission, at home, or with friends. As they better understand and apply the Atonement, its transforming power will have a lasting effect in their lives.

Each chapter opens with a teen-appropriate question and includes subheadings to clarify content, new stories relevant to teens, and a Prepare to Teach section to help readers internalize and share what they’re learning. This shorter edition will be printed in paperback, perfect for teens to carry with them through their busy days.

Brad Wilcox is a professor of teacher education at Brigham Young University, where he also works with Especially for Youth and Education Week programs. He served a mission to Chile and later presided over the Chile Santiago East Mission. He and his wife, Debi, are the parents of four children. He is a popular speaker and the author of The Continuous Atonement and The Continuous Conversion, 52 Life-Changing Questions from the Book of Mormon, and a new children’s book, Practicing for Heaven.

Exile (Book 1 in The Oneness Cycle)

Exile (1)
Book Title: Exile (Book 1 in The Oneness Cycle)

Author: Rachel Starr Thomson

Link: http://www.rachelstarrthomson.com/novels/#exile
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelStarrThomsonWriter

Purchase: http://amzn.com/B00D99V878

Bio:

Rachel Starr Thomson is a writer, indie publisher, and editor. She’s the author of the Seventh World Trilogy, The Oneness Cycle, and other books published by Little Dozen Press.

Rachel is a homeschool graduate, a dweller in southern Canada, a lover of long walks, good books, and hot tea, and a counter-cultural revolutionary who thinks we’d all be much better off if we pitched our television sets out the nearest window.

Synopsis:

When Tyler fishes the girl out of the bay, he thinks she’s dead.

She wishes she was.

For Reese, life ended when the supernatural entity called the Oneness threw her out. For Tyler, dredging Reese out of the water means life is nothing he thought.

In a world where the Oneness exists, nothing looks the same. Dead men walk. Demons prowl the air. Old friends peel back their mundane masks and prove as supernatural as angels.

The Oneness changes everything.

And getting Reese home, making her One again, will change Tyler–and his roommate, Chris, whose connections with the Oneness have been buried most of his life–forever.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

“There’s someone in the net—Tyler, haul the net in!”

Dark clouds were billowing over a choppy sea, the boat charging up and down the waves, when the words sank in. Through the spray and the looming storm Tyler saw it too—an arm, a flash of shoe. He braced himself and hauled, every muscle in his arms and back straining, and Chris joined him, still shouting:

“Pull!”

The wind gusted and pushed them like a thing alive.

They got the net over the rail and dumped it on the deck, silver fish flapping, detritus, and the person—a girl—a woman, young. Alive.

Tyler’s eyes darted to the cliffs a mile off. “Did you fall?” he screamed over the wind.

She shook her head, hugging herself, gathering her feet beneath her. Long hair, water-dark, clung to her face and neck.

“I jumped,” she said.

“Why the—” he started to swear, but one look at her hollow, tormented grey eyes shut his mouth.

* * *

The rain had just begun to fall from black clouds when they finished tying up the boat safe in the cove and began the trudge up the cliff path to the cottage—not that it mattered much to the boys, spray soaked as they were, and their guest seemed to feel nothing, see nothing.

An hour later she sat cross-legged on the ratty plaid couch in the side room, surrounded on three sides by big, screened windows that showed the sweeping cliffs, sky, and clouds. The bay seemed far off and far below, farther than it really was. Stacks of ragged paperbacks and a few board games in cardboard boxes sat beneath the low windowsills, wearing permanent impressions in the brown shag carpet.

She wore jeans and a button-up shirt that belonged to Tyler—he was the smaller of the two—and had a fuzzy flannel blanket, dull green, wrapped around her shoulders.

The electric heater in the corner of the room creaked and seemed to settle its feet. Tyler pressed a steaming mug of tea into her hands.

As her fingers tightened around it, her eyes met his. The same pain that had punched his anger away on the boat was still there, making him wince, but this time there was an openness there too—and a reaching, a plea. For a moment. Then it switched off, and she retreated again behind the pain.

Like a film over her eyes, Tyler thought.

He cleared his throat. “Hope that’ll warm you—get the rest of the chill out.”

She nodded. She had showered, and with a plastic comb of Chris’s had patiently worked all the tangles out of her long, straight hair, which was drying to a dark blonde. Despite the shower and the blanket and the heater radiating too-strong electric heat, she still looked cold.

“Thank you,” she said.

Rain beat against the windows in a sudden assault. Tyler settled awkwardly on the ottoman across from the couch, displacing a couple of fishing magazines. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.

You weren’t supposed to leave suicidal people alone, right? And Chris was doing the laundry.

“You’re, ah . . . you’re welcome.”

A click and more settling from the heater.

The question just jumped out. “You lose someone?”

Something flickered in her eyes. “I lost . . . yeah.”

“A husband?” Another flicker—deeper pain. He kicked himself inwardly. Idiot.

But she said, “No.”

Tyler took a deep breath and wished he’d made a second cup of tea. Not that she was drinking hers—she was just holding it while it steamed between her hands.

“Well, somebody must be looking out for you,” he charged in again. She shot him a look, but he just kept going. “To survive that fall in the first place . . . and then for us to pull you out like that, in the whole bay to be in just the right place, and with a storm comin’ in . . .”

He shook his shaggy head. “Somebody didn’t want you to die today.”

When he looked up from his speech, she had turned her head and was staring out the wall of windows toward the sea. One arm rested on the back of the couch, and she was covering her mouth with the heel of her hand. The tea sat nestled in her lap.

His heart did an awful sort of plunge, and he swallowed hard and stood up. His throat hurt. “I’ll come . . . check on you. Later.”

The room was an add-on. Tyler stepped through the old side door into what had once been a mudroom but now housed a washer and dryer, an old dog kennel, a pile of fishing nets, and lots of unclaimed clothing—coats, boots, old socks without partners. He concentrated, for a moment, on breathing.

Cripes. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Still.

Chris poked his head and big shoulders through the kitchen door. Unlike Tyler’s unruly head of long blond curls and ever-present scruff, Chris’s red hair was neat and short and his face clean shaven. At the moment he looked concerned.

“How’s the patient?”

“Warming up,” Tyler managed.

“You left her alone?”

“She needs space.”

“But what if she—”

“She’s not going to hurt herself. She just . . . it’s grief, Chris. She lost somebody. She needs space.”

Chris looked unconvinced. “I’m calling Mum.”

“Yeah, okay. Good idea.”

The kitchen door shut, and Tyler heard the sounds of Chris dialing from the other side. Trapped between worlds, suspended in the mudroom for a couple of minutes, Tyler waited.

Thunder rumbled, and the rain drummed on the roof.

* * *

With windows on three sides that covered nearly the whole wall from a foot above the floor to just below the low, sloping ceiling, Reese felt enveloped by the storm. Black, tumultuous clouds. Forked lightning; thunder that shook the walls. Pelting rain. It was a classic coastal storm, wind slamming the cliffs and churning the sea in a white frenzy she could just see from here, despite the darkness.

Bitter tears ran down her face, but she hardly noticed them. Her eyes were perpetually swollen and tender; light hurt them. Had ever since the . . . since the loss.

She stood by the window, placed a hand on the glass. Thunder cracked, and the glass strained against the wind howling up the cliff and battering the cottage.

Surrounded by the storm—except that she stood behind windows, in the warmth, smelling the faint burnt smell of an old heater, wrapped up and clean and dry except for her hair.

She was done with miracles. But perhaps they weren’t done with her.

She sighed and leaned her head against the window like it was too heavy to hold up on her own.

Something made her open her eyes.

She saw it coming and jumped back an instant before the huge, black thing shattered the window and went straight for her throat.

* * *

Diane Sawyer’s tea kettle was just starting to whistle, the high-pitched sound joining the thunder. She pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder, freeing both her hands to switch off the gas and lift the copper kettle off the burner.

“She what? I’m sorry, son, the thunder . . . yes. I heard you that time. Well, that’s a little hasty, don’t you think?” Steam wet her hand as she poured the water into the old ceramic pot, and she stuck her fingers sideways into her mouth to suck off the burn.

She frowned. “You don’t know that, Christopher.”

She switched the phone to her other ear, relieving the crick in her neck. “Mm-hmm. Yes, I’ll come. But you’d probably be best off just—”

A sound like mirrors smashing came from the other end of the line, Chris swore, and Diane said “Christopher? What’s going on?” just as an image loomed fully formed in her mind’s eye, blacking out all other vision and sound for an instant. When she came back to her kitchen, she realized Chris had hung up.

She grabbed her purse, tea forgotten. Storm or no storm, she had to get up to the cottage.

* * *

Reese stood in the midst of the shattered glass, breathing hard and staring at the object in her hand. Behind her, first Tyler and then Chris tumbled into the side room.

“What is that?” Tyler blurted, pointing at the corpse on the floor, at the same time that Chris demanded, “Why are you holding a sword?”

Why indeed? She’d not thought to hold one ever again.

“Didn’t think I . . . could,” she offered, aware that her trailing answer wouldn’t make sense to them. She nudged the thing on the floor with her toe and winced at the broken glass everywhere.

One more mess. The creature was only a renegade—thank God. But . . .

The sword disappeared, disintegrating into nothing, and she let her hand fall to her side. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

Tyler lurched forward and kicked at the body, turning it over. He blinked. “It’s a bat? But . . .”

Rain was blowing in through the broken window, spattering the piles of old books and quickly damping the carpet. Reese sprang into action, shuffling things aside and apologizing again. Night was falling, and it was dark. The wind through the window was cold.

Chris appeared at her side with a blue tarp, which he nailed over the windowsill with a few expert whacks of a hammer. With that little bit of a rain barrier in place, he stood back, regarded Reese with his arms folded over his chest, and said, “Who are you?”

She was still repositioning stacks of books, studiously avoiding looking at either of them. But she couldn’t just ignore the question. “My name is Reese,” she said.

“You have a last name?”

“No, we—I—we don’t use them,” she stammered. Why wouldn’t the words come out? His gaze was boring into her, and she dropped what she was doing and sat on the couch again, shoulders hunched, bone weary. Of course she needed a last name.

“Danby,” she let out in a whimper. “You can . . . Danby.”

She ventured a glance up. Chris was still staring at her, but although his gaze was stern, she could see now that it wasn’t angry. It was . . . protective, maybe.

The lump in her throat suddenly grew until all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch, cover herself with the flannel blanket, and give vent to all she felt until she had exhausted every tear and more, until every muscle ached and her skin burned with the emptiness inside.

His anger would have been hard to take. But protectiveness was a memory, too fresh and far, far too potent.

“A bat couldn’t have broken that window—and I could have sworn it was something else, something way bigger when I walked in here. So what was that?”

Tyler wasn’t paying attention to the exchange, and his question, to her relief, deflected the force of her grief. She considered lying, but she was too tired for that. She leaned back against the scratchy plaid upholstery.

“A renegade,” she said. “Just one . . . so you don’t need to worry that others will come.”

Outside, headlight beams came around a curve in the road just below the cottage, disappearing behind the tarp after only a brief flash.

“That’ll be Mum,” Chris said. He frowned. “I think I hung up on her.”

“A renegade?” Tyler pressed.

“Do you believe in demons?” Reese asked.

Chris shook his head. His forehead was creased with worry. “I’ll put tea on,” he said. “Wait this conversation. Until Mum’s in here.”

Tyler looked apologetically at Reese. “Diane is good for this kind of thing.”

Reese felt the slightest glimmer of humour. “For discerning crazy?”

Tyler gave her a wry smile. “For helping us know what to do.” He stood, leaving the bat he had been examining on the floor. “I don’t think it’s going to get any warmer and drier in here tonight. We’d better go to the living room.”

He escorted Reese through a cluttered laundry room and a small kitchen, equally cluttered but surprisingly clean, where Chris was putting another kettle on. On the other side of the kitchen counter was a tiny room almost entirely occupied by a couch and an easy chair. One wall was swallowed up by a fireplace, over which hung a massive sword—a claymore, Reese thought. A small fire was going, and the room was warm.

She closed her eyes for a second. That only two hours ago she had thrown herself off a cliff in a vain attempt to drown herself seemed about as far away and unreal as hope. Strange how life could hang on and continue even when she didn’t want it to—stranger that it could bring her somewhere like this, now.

And the sword. Why had the sword come to hand?

The rain nearly masked the sound of a car pulling up outside the cottage, and in a moment the front door pushed open and a woman stumbled in, wrapped in a sleek rain slicker and wearing a kerchief which she promptly pulled off and wrung out. She was short and comfortably built, and her pale hair was twisted in a French knot at the back of her head. Her sharp eyes fixed on Reese immediately.

“So you’re the girl,” she said. “I’m Diane. How are my boys treating you?”

Reese stammered something . . . even she wasn’t sure what words she was trying to say. Mercifully, Tyler and Chris both began to talk, telling this woman—Chris’s mother, Diane—what had happened, from the rescue right down to the demon that had turned into a bat and the sword that had appeared and then dematerialized in Reese’s hand. Getting out of her rain slicker and boots, Diane listened intently and nodded, without interrupting or appearing surprised at any point.

Finally she crossed the tiny room and took Reese’s arm. Her hands were weathered and heavy veined, older than the rest of her, and cold from the drive through the rain.

“Sit,” she said. “I think we should all sit.”

They did. Chris and Tyler looked uncomfortable, and after about half a second Chris stood up again and positioned himself in front of the fireplace. His mother didn’t chastise him.

“I saw it,” she said without any more preamble. “The demon. I see things sometimes—the boys know. That’s how I knew to get up here fast.”

She peered along her nose at Reese. Her eyes were blue. “And you,” she said. “You are a part of the Oneness.”

For an instant Reese thought she would not find her voice, or even the breath to say it. But she did—somehow she did.

“No,” she said. “No, I’m an exile.”

Amazed by Grace

 9781629720395This book is based on an address given by Sheri Dew on the topic of Grace. You can view the address online here: http://www.byutv.org/watch/1d4f0f4e-ff51-4e38-b35b-8cdb6b4dd3ce/byu-womens-conference-sheri-l-dew-512014

Do we believe we are saved by grace? With access to sacred scripture and modern revelation, members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ought to have special insight into the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the amazing power of grace in our individual lives. Yet how many of us truly understand grace and how to unlock the power it contains?

In Amazed by Grace , author Sheri Dew considers four questions: What is grace? What difference can grace make in our lives? How does the Savior make His power available to us? And what must we  do to gain access to the Savior’s power?

Expand your understanding of grace and broaden your gospel horizon with Sheri as she reminds us that “the central, most compelling, most life-changing message of all time is that Jesus Christ already triumphed over sin, death, hell and every kind of misery. Surely there is nothing our Father is more eager for us to understand than the breathtaking scope of the Atonement of His Son and the power the Atonement makes available to us.”

Sheri Dew is a native of Ulysses, Kansas, and a graduate of Brigham Young University. She has authored several books, including the biographies of two presidents of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Gordon B. Hinckley and Ezra Taft Benson. Her most recent books are Women and the Priesthood, God Wants a Powerful People, and Saying It Like It Is. Sheri is the CEO of Deseret Book and Executive Vice President of Deseret Management Corporation

Purchase the book here: http://amzn.com/1629720399