by J.A. Webb | Aug 10, 2025 | Blog post
I have some exciting news about both Fragments:Book One of the Seekers Series and Interregnum: Book Three of The Seekers Series
But first- recently, my wife took this photo overlooking one of our pastures. It so reminded me of a passage from my upcoming book, Interregnum, that I just had to share the photo with you . . . and that passage.
Well, to be perfectly truthful, this is two passages, both happening simultaneously but in two locations, and in both our intrepid Seekers are in grave peril, under siege, and harried by unseen, unnatural forces.
Now- these are both from the original rough, unedited draft- so no fair critiquing the small details!
So here they are, and I hope you enjoy reading them a much as I enjoyed writing them:
Robinson tread soft and silent through the dark, still forest.
The sole source of light overhead flickered in and out of sight as the skeletal fingers of bare branches clawed their way across the thinnest sliver of a moon-face, that illusory motion keeping pace with his progress through these unnaturally silent woods.
Ahead, the open forest floor spread out, striped with silver light and moonshadow. The black tree trunks marched into the distance until they merged, became one, a solid wall of darkness that neither moonlight nor vision could penetrate.
He raised one hand in signal to his team, then stopped to listen. Phillip and Thaddeus’s training had been good, and his team moved nearly as silently as those lads could. Nearly.
But not as silently as whatever were those things ahead.
It had been just a feeling, a glimmer of something out there, just beyond sight. The barest hint of a form melding from one shadow into the next. But it had been no illusion. There was something there.
Because now more movement appeared, flickering, rippling in the far distance, a line of march moving this way, as wide left and right as he could see. The advancing front was so massive it had to be dozens. Hundreds, even.
But hundreds of what?
With one raised finger, he again signaled. Presaged only by a barely felt air current, stirred by unseen movement, one of his men appeared to his right.
“Chief?” came the barely audible whisper.
He put his hand to the man’s ear. “Take a gander forward. Tell me if you see anything.”
“Don’t have to take a gander. I saw ‘em , too.”
“Yeah,” Robinson peered ahead, his eyes beginning to ache as he strained to focus on something that simply refused to reveal any definable form. “But what, exactly is it you see?”
Before his scout could answer, one of the tree shadows directly ahead, not two paces distant, began to unfold. Something massive pounced. Whatever was wrapped in that flowing shadow, it was so big and so heavy, moving so incredibly fast that it knocked him off his feet, airborne and whiplashed, then landing to skid backward a dozen feet on the leaf-strewn forest floor.
Where only a moment before he’d been standing, darkness thrashed and there came a gurgling cry.
[…] attempt to swim across would leave huge vee-shaped ripples in their wake, easily seen on such a glassy surface, so strangely still, as was the air. So still and heavy it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as if disturbed by the building electrical charge of some impending storm.
Far to the north, there came a kind of roaring rumble, as if that very storm was birthed in answer to that thought.
A storm wouldn’t be a bad thing, right now. Uncomfortable, certainly, and cold. But a bank of clouds to blot out the thin light of the moon, rain masking any movement in the resulting deeper darkness, would be well to their advantage. And would likely make the patrols all the less diligent.
Phillip searched for the source of that rolling thunder, echoing anew even now. But the sky above, and to the far horizon, was clear of any storm clouds, the stars sharing the deep, black expanse with only a handful of nearly motionless, scudding vapor trails, thin wisps of shadow across the face of the sharp-edged moonsliver.
Strange. From where could such thunder arise? Now with it this shuddering vibration in the air, just below the threshold of the senses?
And then began the whispers, trailing through the sky above like those vaporous clouds, swirling, searching, carving great racing circles through the heavens. And growing louder.
He shot a look at Thaddeus, whose own eyes had grown wide in alarm. “We must go now, no time.”
He waved Thaddeus to follow and began running, bent low, toward the trestle. It was the only way, the only place they had any chance of passing without being detected.
Though a thin chance that was.
No for the news. It’s midsummer and work is progressing well on Interregnum, scheduled to be available for pre-order by November of this year. It’s been such fun writing this series, and if you think the stakes ramped up in Book Two, Inheritance, then you have a real treat coming in Book Three.
But I don’t want to ignore the first book of the series, Fragments, an installment in the story near and dear to my heart, and to many of yours, judging by your emails.
So now I have two announcements about Fragments.
First, we’ve gotten a ton of market feedback, and a great deal, as well, from all of you. The current series covers, created by Jenneth Leed of Inkmarker Design, are gorgeous, and I truly love them . . . so dark and mysterious.
But that feedback has reinforced my own initial reaction to that design- that the icon evoked a sense of the occult. As you might imagine, that’s not a good thing for a Christian book. And because of it, people looking for a Christian-made story often get the wrong impression of mine.
So we’ve decided to do something about it.
I’ve put out a call for new cover concepts, and for the next few months, I’ll be giving the most likely candidates a trial run.
The first of these is currently up on my website, and also graces the ebook on Amazon. A sneak peek can be seen below.
Let me know what you think.
The other big news is also related to feedback I’ve gotten from you.
It’s probably no surprise to you when I tell you I’m no fan of big tech in general, or of big online platforms. In my stories, I do write about a freedom-killing worldwide tyranny in my stories, after all.
Many of you who read print books or listen to audiobooks (like me), prefer to support a variety of independent platforms, like Downpour.com, as do I, and print and audio will remain available wide- anywhere you buy books.
But I’ve learned that’s not true of those of you who prefer ebooks. Well over 90% of the ebooks I’ve sold are are purchased through Amazon (you really love your Kindles, don’t you!), and many of you have reached out to me, requesting that I make the books available through Kindle Unlimited.
So . . . your wish is granted!
Fragments is now available in Kindle Unlimited, and you can read it FREE with your subscription.
Be sure to let me know if you like it, and leave a review!
And keep your eyes peeled, watching this newsletter for the announcement when the other books in the series become available on KU, as they certainly will be.
by J.A. Webb | Jul 27, 2025 | Blog post
Acid trips or Aplogetics? How to reach the modern Seeker through the Power of Story.
My professional life remains in the middle of the summer crunch- and so my own blog posts are still on hiatus- though rest assured, the work on Interregnum, Book Three of The Seekers Series, continues apace- and the book is still slated for release by the end of the year. So I’m taking this opportunity to share with you something interesting that recently blessed me. A man I know and who I consider a friend, Thomas Umstadtt Jr., just published the latest episode of The Christian Publishing Show- in which he explores the question: “Acid trips or Apologetics? How to reach he modern Seeker through the Power of Story.”
The content was so fantastic I had to feature it here.
As you may know, I spent a great deal of my adult life as an atheist before- thanks to the workings of our Creator God- I eventually came to the truth and was saved.
My choice (at a very young age) to reject God and to embrace a materialistic/atheist world view was largely driven by the 20st century scientific arguments of “billions of years” and “the Proven Science of Evolution”, the watering down of the Christian faith in the main-line church where I grew up in, the disdain for Christianity which the culture had adopted in general, and the particularly rabid strain of that disdain- or more accurately contempt- which prevailed in the halls of education . . . and most of all in the Speculative Fiction I so loved.
Yes, there is great Power in Story.
So, you would think that it would have been arguments along the very same lines which would have led to my eventual choice to seek God. But in fact, it wasn’t. Modern apologetics helped reinforce that choice, once I was already seeking Him. But logical arguments did not precipitate that Search for Truth.
This month, Thomas Umstattd, Jr. digs deeper into the state of the culture and the difficulties of reaching the current generations with that same Truth, given the Post Modern world in which we now live. And he’s done so with what some may consider some controversial ideas, such as:
Christianity has always been under attack. The current weapon of choice is “deconstruction.”
Recent generations that were raised on pornography now reject Christian morality and then deconstruct their faith altogether. As a Christian writer in the 21st century, you’re not fighting a theological battle over truth but an emotional battle over morality.
Or:
But the political question today is very different. It’s moral. It’s spiritual . . .
One party that advocates for killing babies and “transitioning” children.
At the last political protest I attended, the Democrats were chanting, “Hail Satan,” and the Republicans were singing “Amazing Grace.”
This is 21st-century politics.
Read the full article- or listen to the podcast– and let me know what you think!:
by J.A. Webb | Jun 1, 2025 | Blog post
The Crusade to find thrilling fiction for Christian men continues
Disheartened and broken, haunted by the still echoing horror of my recent safari into the wilds of my local Christian bookstore’s Fantasy aisle (in my never-ending crusade to find thrilling fiction for Christian men). . . and still lacking anything new to read, I took a risk.
Yes. That risk.
I went to the bookstore-which-shall-remain-nameless across the street, closed my eyes, and dipped one hand into a bin of secular speculative fiction books, drawing a few at random. Several looked interesting. Very interesting. No surprise there, though- they always do.
It’s what’s inside the cover that’ll get you.
Oh, it’s not that they’re poorly written. Secular spec fiction still enjoys the robust support of the publishing industry, and traditionally published books are, for the most part, reliably well written.
The risk, the fear that keeps me at the edge of my seat, picking up first one, then setting it aside for another, indecision writ clear on my sweating brow, tempted yet tremulous, is the fear of the unknown.
Oh, I have no fear of the obvious stinkers, the thinly disguised ideological screeds. Those authors can’t help themselves and give away the game somewhere around the second scene. Easily avoided are any hooks any such story might throw in my path, hoping to entangle me in a pointless tale, helpless captive to their heavy-handed preaching (We’re all going to die. Next week! Unless selfish and banal Western women quit shaving their underarm hair!) or the like.
Immediately recognizing the peril and with the grace of a born dancer, I dodge, weave, and execute a deft overhanded throw- perhaps even a hook shot, if I’m feeling lucky- and those tomes describe a perfect arc into the trash bin.
I’ve even, in the most egregious cases, been known to refuse to return such to the library. Upon receipt of those inevitable and sternly worded letters about legal consequences, I fire back equally smarmy responses, informing the head librarian what a service I’ve done for society, destroying said offending book, public property or not.
More devious is another type of story. Deceptively promising stories, great in both concept and execution, which are yet riddled with underlying unstated assumptions. You know what I mean. Maybe a veiled reference to the absolute validity of the Theory (Yes, they really called it a theory, once upon a time.) of Evolution. Or perhaps some chap drops comment in dialogue about how “. . . the Bible was corrupted centuries ago and is now untrustworthy. Every fool knows that.”
Such flaws, for the sake of an otherwise enjoyable story, I can grit my teeth and ignore. (Though wouldn’t it be nice if there was so much great Christian Spec Fiction for guys that I didn’t need to? According to my dentist- that would be a very good thing.)
No, none of these fill me with the trepidation that has even now (as I clutch one volume in my left hand, one in my right, and two more balanced on my thighs, palms sweaty) left me unable to commit to any one of them for fear of the unmentionable.
Namely, that once I’ve become captivated by the story, pulled so deeply into the irresistible current of a fantastic tale, that I’ll (long after it’s too late) find some twisted world view, buried deep in those oh-so-attractive pages. One which will eventually seep from said pages, staining the foolscap, coalescing into some fiendishly, cunningly crafted, gotcha, upside-down and inside-out monstrous deconstruction of all that is right and Holy. Completely spoiling what had promised to be such a great book, turning the final climatic scenes into a grotesquery. A shocking surprise.
Like that one I got in college, when, for months I’d proudly displayed the cover of the great Alan Parsons Project album, Eve, center stage on my plank-and-cinderblock shelves. After which time a guy walked in, pointed a half-empty beer bottle at the album, and remarked, “Funny how they trick you into not seeing that funky fungus, or whatever it is, on those girl’s faces.”
I looked, then looked again. Then suddenly saw that which I’d never realized before. And have never really been okay since.
And just as I was never able to see that album the same again, or ever see those faces as pure and lovely as I once had, these treacherous stories likewise leave me able neither to forget that which I’ve read, nor mourn that which could have been, if only.
It’s these books. The ones with such promise, the ones that trick me into believing that maybe, just maybe, I’ve found the one . . . it’s these that hurt the worst.
And I’ve decided it’s time to do something about it.
If no one else will feature great fiction for Christian men, making it easier for guys like me to find great stories, then I guess it’s time I did.
So this blog post is my announcement, my declaration of a new crusade to find thrilling fiction for Christian men. My call to all the Christian Warrior-Priest authors out there. Gather near, prepare to go forth and do battle for our culture, using the Word of God and the Power of Story to reclaim our culture!
And that battle cry has been heard. A worthy band of Christian writers has already begun to answer that call. Have gathered for the assault, pens at the ready and notebooks thrust defiantly skyward as they link arms and prepare for the final charge.
Keep your eyes on this blog as the campaign gains momentum and battle plans are finalized. It’s going to be an exciting year!
In the meantime, check out the initial offering of a new writer in the field and a friend of mine, Daniel Lewczuk, chosen from the front ranks of our hardy band. And now you can sample the first fruits of what promises to be an incredibly exciting career. And it’s available in AUDIO! FREE!!
Daniel is an ex-cop who left his life of crime—not his, other’s—to spend more time with his wife and three sons. Since then he’s become an award-winning sci-fi and fantasy author, small business owner, and the creator of stunning wood pieces that inspire Muggles all over the country to ponder the worlds beyond this one. Daniel lives in southern Ontario and still wonders, “What Would John Carter Do?”
Learn more at http://www.authordaniellewczuk.com/ . . . and stay tuned. A great wave of new Christian authors remains to follow.
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by J.A. Webb | May 18, 2025 | Blog post
Something happened this week that caused me to ask: Is there any fiction genre left written for Christian men?
In the course of my ongoing and indeterminable search for great speculative fiction written for Christian men, I ventured into the Fantasy aisle at my local Christian bookstore. After all, who doesn’t love a rollicking, medieval tale of stalwart heroes combating great evil and horrible monsters? And if all else fails, a guy knows that’s the one place he might find books still written for him.
But . . . but . . . Something happened in the fantasy aisle when I wasn’t looking.
Gone are the chiseled warriors standing atop craggy mountain summits and overlooking forbidding castles, hands folded on the pommels of their swords, feet resting atop slain foes.
Instead, I now find those self-same heroes holding the waists of gowned maidens, their once determinedly set jaws now slack as they gaze into the fawning eyes of their female companions.
No monster in sight.
What’s worse, someone spilled pink ink all over the covers. And glitter!
I ran stumbling from the store, hair fisted in one hand, the knuckles of the other pressed tight to lips closed in a failed attempt to stifle my wails of mourning. Must a guy simply give up reading altogether?
In my lament, I sought solace in that well-worn office bookshelf, the one housing some of my favorite classics. I pulled a cherished tome free and hugged it to my chest while I sat, rocking forward and back, eyes unfocused. I worked through the shell shock, struggled to come to grips with this new world- one in which even that once venerable and safely testosterone-infused genre, the one formerly known as fantasy, has gone the way of the dodo bird.
Extinct. Deceased. An ex-genre, as John Cleese might say.
Finally, my heartbeat settled, and I wiped the tear-blurriness from my eyes. I opened that well-worn leather volume I clutched in still-shaking hands, laid it on the green desk blotter, clicked on my brass reading lamp, and lost myself once again in this manly tale of globe-trotting adventure, high-seas disaster, tyranny, betrayal, true loyalty, and long-delayed justice. Once in which even Jesus himself makes a early cameo and a final, triumphant entrance.
Of course, I’m speaking of the timeless epic, Ben Hur. As a baby Christian, this is one of the first Christian fiction books I found, and it’s still a favorite.
If your sole exposure to this tale is from the movies, I’ll only say you’re missing out. How can a two-hour movie capture this one-thousand two-hundred word masterpiece of a book? It can’t. And even though the movies were, in fact, great- the book is even better.
And it’s available in full-length audio! (. . . but avoid the virtual voice version). My own publisher, Blackstone Audio/Downpour, has a fantastic human-narrated unabridged audio release. And I say that not because they’re my publisher- this was a favorite long before I ever published, or even thought of such. (BTW, Downpour still, for most titles, lets you download an audio file you really own- and can keep forever- to play anywhere sans the restrictive corporate app)
So- even if the world is being turned slowly upside down, and everything a guy thought he could count on continues to crumble- there are still wonderful Christian books a guy can enjoy.
Perhaps soon we’ll be able to bring you one that’s not one hundred and forty-five years old!!???
by J.A. Webb | May 4, 2025 | Blog post
Is pulp Sci-Fi making a comeback? Is this a good thing for Christian readers?
As a lad I consumed bushel basketfuls of what were, even then, vintage paperbacks from the Golden Age of Science Fiction. Voraciously. Much of it blatant (and unabashed) pulp fiction, but some of it extremely well-written. There were even a few unsung masterpieces, glittering jewels which still shine bright in memory while the thousands upon thousands of others have been forgotten.
So it’s been with a sense of remorse that, in recent years, I’ve largely abandoned the genre. It’s just too frustrating to pick up book after book after book, all of which look so appealing on the shelf, only to find inside those glowing covers an endless array of tiresome and alarmist Climate Change diatribes, LGBTQ normalization, and various other flavors of cultural indoctrination too numerous to mention.
I mean, come on Lois McMaster Bujold! Miles Vorkosigan is a great read, and so much fun. Why you gotta mess it up like that?
It makes a guy want to give up. At least I did. Nearly.
But every now and again, I give it another try. I won’t say this week’s selection is a classic that will continue to inhabit memory for decades. But it was a story worthy of attention.
Nether Station by Kevin J. Anderson is a tale that hearkens back to those of my youth. The story itself evinces memories of Arthur C. Clarke, Larry Niven, Poul Anderson and company. A great concept and an exciting tale, just enough action and mystery to keep the pages turning.
What keeps this from being one of those timeless jewels, at least for me, are but a few minor annoyances.
First, I sense in the backstory a hint of what may develop, in later books, into a full-blown case of transpermia. At least in the spiritual sense, if not the literal. Those faint echoes, vaguely reminiscent of Chariots of the Gods, are even now beginning to give me hives. (Okay, fine- look it up if you can’t resist, but don’t waste your time reading it- other than as a cautionary example of the dangerous places the unrestrained and God-denying imagination . . . and fraudulent archaeology . . . can go) Where’d I put that Calamine lotion, anyway?
But I hope I’m wrong, and I guess I’ll have to read on to find out if Kevin was really hinting that Satan was nothing more than a really mean alien visitor. Will he seriously go there?
Second is this. I nearly broke a molar gritting my teeth every time I heard the words “he knew” and “he realized” and “he wondered”. A circumstance which occurred repeatedly. In every paragraph.
Is it just me just me? After all, much of that Golden Age Sci Fi I spoke of was a mishmash of Omniscient POV, shallow sensory detail, non-existent internal dialogue, thumb-fisted narrative “telling”, and head-hopping.
The thing is- over time, fiction has trended to a closer, deeper POV, a more tightly focused mental “camera” and a less intrusive narrator. This change has been good, in my opinion. Give me compelling deep POV, put me INSIDE the head of the protagonist, make me FEEL what he’s feeling. Don’t tell me about it.
Lately I’ve noticed that a lot of modern hard Sci-Fi is written in that older, “telling” narrative style. Perhaps it’s intentional? I’ve had several people, both readers and writers, tell me they prefer this. I’ve even heard it suggested it’s making a comeback. A new trend.
However, I contend that Strunk and White’s Elements of Style was around long before the Golden Age of Science Fiction. That these are not valid writing styles but errors which impede the story. That the transformation of narrative style has been a good thing- creating more evocative, deeper, more compelling fiction.
But perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps there is a contingent out there that really enjoys this style. If you’re one of those folks, let me know. Send me an email- tell me I’m wrong. And why.
Now, back to the story . . . and in this case, thankfully, we’re talking about a “clean” story that a Christian Man could enjoy, even through the occasional gritted jaw. And aside from the (potential) denial of the history of Creation that I sense waiting in the wings- one worthy of your time . . . when you, like I, can’t find great Christian-made fiction for men.
A condition that still, even in the midst of our epic and ongoing search for great Christian fiction, I still all-too-often suffer.
