Allan Hudson's Blog, page 7

The Story Behind the Story with Sally Cronin of Southern Ireland.

 

Another treat for you this week onthe Scribbler. 

Sally is back to tell us about her memoir.

 

Sally has been an ardent supporter ofher fellow authors and writers. On her popular website, she shares music, reviews, nutritional tips,humour, excerpts, books, author interviews and more!

She has been a welcome guest previously.

Take a peek HERE.

Read on my friends.

 

Sally Cronin is the author of eighteen books including her memoir SizeMatters: Especially when you weigh 330lb first published in 2001 which followedher weight loss of 150lbs and the program she designed to achieve a healthyweight and regain her health. A programme she shared with her clients over her26 year career as a nutritional therapist and on her blog. This has beenfollowed by another seventeen books both fiction and non-fiction includingmulti-genre collections of short stories and poetry.

As an author she understands how important it is to have support inmarketing books and offers a number of FREE promotional opportunities in theCafé and Bookstore on her blog and across her social media.

After leading a nomadic existence exploring the world, she now lives withher husband on the coast of Southern Ireland enjoying the seasonal fluctuationsin the temperature of the rain.

 

 

 

Title: Size Always Matters: Don’t be partof a statistic, start losing weight today.

Synopsis:

At age 41 in 1994 and weighing 330 lbs, Sally Cronin had twochoices when she was told that she was unlikely to live to 45. Carry on eatingor get her act together. She chose to study nutrition and change the way sheapproached the food she ate and her other lifestyle choices.

Her first book, Size Matters, told the story of her weight loss of154 lbs and shared the programme she designed to both lose the weight andregain her health. Now, thirty years on from the start of that journey, havingworked as a nutritional therapist with hundreds of clients as well as acting asa health consultant on radio for several years and on her blog, she shares anupdated version of the programme. This also includes the nutrients we requireto be healthy and recipes to provide our bodies with them effectively.

 

The Story Behind the Story:

Havingfollowed many diets over my teens and 20s and 30s I reached 330lbs and was invery poor health. I decided I needed to discover more about both my body and myrelation to food which led me to design a program which led to me losing 150lbsin 18 months healthily. I studied both medicine and nutrition and thenqualified as a nutritional therapist, working with hundreds of clients over thelast 26 years and working as a consultant in the media.

SizeAlways Matters brings both my own experience, my research and work with otherstogether in a program that anyone can follow. It is not a get slim quickapproach but one that lasts a lifetime.

Website: Please go HERE.



A question before you go, Sally:
Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Sally: I usually create stories, posts and books in my head first when walking and then sit down at my desktop to put it down in writing. I prefer quiet when working, I prefer tea and I would say I am semi-messy but know where everything is.


An Excerpt from Size Always Matters

Stop thinkinglike a fat person and start thinking like a slim one.

Start thinking and voicing the ‘when’, not‘if’, you lose weight. Also there is a six letter word which is your nemesis…‘Should’. We use it blatantly when we want to avoiddoing anything. I should lose weight, I should stop smoking, I shouldsave money! Very wishy-washy and not going to get you over the finish line.Start using the word ‘MUST’instead. Put some muscle behind it and get it done.

Also, stop eating for the size you are. I cannot countthe number of times I was told ‘take two you’re a big girl’ or ‘have asecond helping you need all the energy you can get’…. No. Actually you need toeat for the person you are going to become, not the one you have become!

 

Thanks very much Allan for having me as a guest today, itis much appreciated.

It’s our pleasure to have you back again, Sally. Thank you for being the featured guest this week. We wish you continued success with your writing.


And a Gigantic Thank You to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment.We’d love to hear from you.

The Story Behind the Story with Chuck Bowie of NB, Canada.

 

Chuck has a newbook arriving soon… and you will be one of the first to see the cover. Yahoo! 

 Chuck has been a frequent guest here at theScribbler and if you missed the previous visit, please go HERE.

Read on myfriends.

 

 

Chuck is both a writer and an author, with twelvebooks/novels published and one on the way. While he enjoys writing mysteries:Suspense-Thrillers and Cozy Mysteries, he also writes short stories. All hisbooks are well-reviewed, and he has sat on the boards of the Writers’Federation of NB, The Writers’ Union of Canada, is a Fellow of the KingsbraeInternational Residency for the Arts, as well as being acknowledged as a memberof the Miramichi Literary Trail.

His thriller series chronicles the adventures ofDonovan, an international thief for hire, while his cozy series (written asAlexa Bowie) follows the adventures of the owner of an arts centre as Emmasolves the crimes that swirl around her centre: The Old Manse.

http://www.chuckbowie.ca

Chuck lives in Fredericton and beside MiramichiBay. Thriller number Six, Lost in London drops in November, 2024.

 

Title: Lost in London

Book 6 inthe Donovan: Thief for Hire Suspense-Thriller series

 

Synopsis:

A smallgroup of young, naïve Irish people is persuaded that England has stolen Irishartefacts and that these should be stolen back and returned to Ireland. It isnot until the thefts start that they begin to suspect that things might not beas they appear. One of the young adults in particular, Áine Wedden, suspectsthe worst and transforms from thief to kidnap victim with a punch to the face.Later, we discover that, in effect, all of the young thieves, in one wayor another are lost in London.

SeanDonovan, a contract thief is approached by Áine’s father, Loic, to go to Londonand recover his daughter. He agrees, but while investigating this theft ring,he discovers a much larger series of crimes is underway. Extricating Áine becomesmore complicated, and with the crimes straddling both Ireland and England,Donovan must deal with three completely different layers of crime, all whiletrying to rescue, and then keep a willful young woman safe.

 

TheStory Behind the Story:

I hadoccasion to visit Ireland and England (and Wales) for a month a few years ago,and returned with a fully-formed tale that became my fifth thriller: Her IrishBoyfriend. Toward the end of the story, Donovan had to contact a rich Irishindustrialist in order to stay in the good graces of the Irish police, the Gardai.The appearance of the industrialist, Loic Wedden, was brief—he was merelymentioned off-scene—but the thought of such a character remained in my head. Ipromised myself that if occasion presented itself, I would re-introduce him ina later book. It turned out he has a willful daughter…

What if youwere a young adult in search of a purpose in life, you look around your mates,and they haven’t really made the transition to adulthood either. And what ifyou and your mates happen upon a charming man who has an ambitious idea you canget behind? You might be tempted to explore this ambition, in the hopes offinding yourself.

My MainCharacter, Sean Donovan, is a thief for hire: a contract thief. He is seekingredemption, and has decided not to steal just for profit. But he has theseskills, and innocent people could benefit from somebody with this skillset. Mydesire to explore this change in Donovan, together with my desire to explore abit more of Ireland led me to consider writing a story about a young Irishwoman who gets in deep enough trouble that even her rich father can’t bail herout without really good help.

Website: please go HERE.








A question before you go, Chuck:
Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?



Chuck: Hemingway (with reference to getting a book done) tossed the off-hand comment ‘Write drunk, edit sober.’ Riffing off that comment and speaking for myself, in general, I like to write in quiet and edit with music. I am able to write with instrumental music on, preferably jazz or 50s pop music. The fifties music era was just before my time as a music fan, but I’ve developed a taste for it. Same for editing and revising.

It used to be that I liked to write with a mug of coffee at hand, but now I prefer water or chocolate milk. I tend not to snack while working.

Am I a messy writer? This expression can have a number of meanings. My desk is a little untidy, with gas, restaurant, and book purchase receipts on a corner of my desk. So yes, messy that way. My writing is also a bit untidy, because I am an intuitive writer and do not follow an outline, or writing formula. My editor as a consequence has to work harder to whip my WiP (Work in Progress) into shape.

It was a lot of fun writing this novel. I hope readers enjoy it as well.




We are definitely looking forward to reading the story. Thanks for sharing the news and for being our guest this week, Chuck. We wish you continued success with your stories.

An a BIG thank you to all our visitors and readers.


Feel free to leave a comment.

The Story Behind the Story with Author/Poet Michelle McLean of New Brunswick Canada.

 

Michelle is back and we couldn’t behappier.

 

She is sharing the SBTS of her new poetrycollection, a touching personal journey.

She has been a welcome guest beforeand if you missed it, please go HERE.

Read on my friends.

 

Michelle McLean is a poet, clinical social worker and addictions counsellor, animal and nature lover, and collector of treasure in all forms. Her poetry has found homes in Quills, elm & ampersand, Ascent Aspirations, Other Voices, Peacock Journal, Understorey, and others. Her collection of children’s poetry, When Pigs Fly and Other Poems, was published in 2020 by Chapel Street Editions. Her eldest daughter, Sophie Arseneau, is the illustrator and her youngest daughter, Lily Arseneau, is a contributing illustrator. Michelle and her family live in the small village of Bath, New Brunswick.

Title:  Tesserae

Synopsis:

Tesserae is a poetry collection that traces the journey of trauma, grief,addiction and recovery.  It explores bothwhat is shattered, and the various ways we seek to rebuild.  The term “tesserae” refers to smallpieces of stone, glass, tile or any other material used in the creation of amosaic.  The mosaic is our lives, which can beso messy, painful and sharp, but somehow still beautiful.  That’s what I’ve learned and continue tolearn.  We can sometimes find ourselvesutterly broken by the things that happen to us. We also have the power, artistry and resilience to rebuild and makesomething new. 

 

The Story Behind the Story: 

Ernest Hemingway once said, “write hard and clear about whathurts”.  I believe that’s what I did inthis book.  I wrote these poems formyself, for my own healing.  From thetime I was a young child, I felt compelled to write about my experiences inorder to better understand them and poetry has always provided a safe space forme to maneuver large, loud and often complicated, messy feelings in a way thatsimultaneously provided a sense of freedom and containment.  While intensely personal material, I opted topursue publication because…well, there’s just something special about seeing mywords in print and holding a published volume in my hands, something Icreated. 

This collection is heavy content. I’ve described it as “equal parts scream and lullaby”.  I was twelve years old when my sister Tracey waskilled in a horrific accident.  She wasfifteen.  This utterly shattered ourfamily.  The loss of a child is the worstloss imaginable.  It’s unfathomable(thankfully) to many of us.  Where isthere space for the grief of sibling loss within this magnitude oftragedy?  I certainly didn’t know as achild and didn’t even know where to begin to look or even how to ask.  I didn’t even know the question.  I was adrift in a sea of suffering that Icouldn’t identify, describe, or even begin to navigate.  I was drowning.  To borrow a line from the band Larkin Poe, “theriver runs deep and the deep stays down”. My deep stayed down.  Until itdidn’t.  It was decades later when myfirst therapist named “trauma” as a significant factor in my recovery.  I remember being strangely defensive andhostile with her about that.  My parentshad trauma.  Not me.  I couldn’t (at that point) acknowledge themagnitude of impact that my sister’s death had in my own life anddevelopment.   In my mind, my parents’suffering was the only pain that mattered. I couldn’t seem to make space for my own. I didn’t know how.  For many years, poetry was the only spacewhere I let some of these feelings roam and find healthy expression.

My sister was a truly exceptional person and the impact of her loss isnow woven into the very fabric of who we are. I don’t believe you “get over” grief, but it is possible to move forwardwith it and learn how to carry it differently over time.  These poems were written over the course ofmany years.  I’m very happy to say I’m nolonger in that dark place.  Thecollection itself is organized into three sections but certainly not meant toimply any kind of neat and tidy “completion” – I’m a work in progress, justlike everyone else. 

So those are my personal reasons for writing and publishing thisbook.  That said, it is also my sincerehope that sharing these poems will play some small part in breaking down thestigma that folks with addictions and mental health issues continue toface.  I think we’ve come a long way whenit comes to stigma, but we have a long way to go – particularly for thosesuffering from substance use disorder.  Stigmakills.  There’s simply no other way tosay it.  Stigma is one of the biggestbarriers to treatment and recovery for substance use disorders according to theCanadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction (and my own anecdotalexperience, both personally and professionally).   We need to fight stigma.  It’s a matter of life and death for too manypeople.

Early intervention is key.  Ibelieve it’s critically important to model this for our youth.  For everyone.   I’ve often wondered how much suffering couldhave been mitigated for me had I received mental health care as a youth whofelt so lost and alone in what I was going through.  Unfortunately, that was not the culture of thetime – in my family, community, or in society more generally.  The layers of unhelpful coping and defenses Ideveloped over the years as a result of muddling through on my own made it thatmuch more difficult than it needed to be to fully engage in healing.  That said, I can’t emphasize enough that it’snever too late.

Gabor Mate talks about trauma as the gateway to addiction.  I think that is the case for many.  He encourages bringing an attitude of“compassionate curiosity” to our experiences. I love that.   I think that if we,as a society, bring more of this “compassionate curiosity” to complex strugglesand problems that people face, we would have more helpful outcomes.  Addiction is a problem – we all clearly knowthis.  What many don’t appreciate orunderstand is that substance use issues and behavioral addictions were alsoattempts at “solutions” for many of us when healthy solutions were scarce orabsent altogether.  

We need to change the narrative to reflect the truth – that it is smart,strong and brave to seek help when needed. Not weakness. Attending to our mental health should be as routine andaccepted as seeing our doctors, our dentists, our hairdressers.  There should be no shame attached.  No stigma. Stigma has devastating impacts for individuals, families andcommunities. It keeps people isolated and alone when they need support andcommunity the most.  We are all on acontinuum of wellness and illness, many finding ourselves at different pointson that spectrum throughout our lives.  To borrow the words of Greg Boyle, there is no“us” and “them”.  There is only“us”.  

Website: Go HERE.


A question before you go, Michelle:


Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Michelle: My ideal spot for writing still lives in fantasyland at this point – my “someday” waterfront home, perhaps sitting on my covered porch (with intermittent breaks spent rocking in my porch swing), overlooking the gardens and lake/river/ocean, a generous cup of very strong coffee within easy reach.

For now, I generally squirrel myself away in my bedroom to write. While I typically need quiet and privacy to focus when I hunker down for writing, I’m often inspired when listening to music and compiling my multitudes of playlists and tend to generate a lot of thoughts, connections and ideas that way. Sometimes inspiration comes in the stillness, other times in the chaos. The writing itself is generally a very quiet and solitary thing for me. While I prefer a well-organized writing (and living) space, this is not always my reality. More often there are papers strewn all over my bed as I hunch over my laptop in postures that would likely make most physiotherapists and chiropractors collectively cringe.


3 poems from Tesserae


Thursday’s Child                                           

 

Istill remember the costumes                           

youwere eight, I was five 

Awee Lucifer, shoulder-hunched                               

andanvil heavy, watching you twirl

resplendentin a gown of golden satin

recycledfrom a wedding

  

Glittered,star-topped wand

likeGlinda, the good witch 

Mycrimson cape (perfect for

dramaticentrances)

wascustom-made  

Itried to feel grateful

resistingthe urge to poke you

withmy plywood pitchfork

hottears behind my beastly

plasticmask

 

Nomore pictures now                       

andit’s taken me years to find

somesympathy

forthis little devil 

torecognize that sometimes

it’sthe monster

needingrescue

 notthe princess

InMedias Res

 

You droppedmy name and it broke

on the floor

 

trying tomake sense

of thisragged, shattered scene

 

all thespaces in between with your

fingerprintswiped clean 

                 

 

Sharp edgesof my pain                              

warn, handle with care

thin skin

beware 

 

I will notthrow away

thistesserae 

I’ve neverbeen one for waste

(though Ilike things

properlyspaced)

                   

I’ve beenlong collecting

for thismosaic

pulling in,sifting out

 

 

Stillarranging

 

no plans, asyet

togrout  

 

 

  Watermarks

 

There was atime I snail-carried sorrow

on my back

took all mytravels

with thatburden masquerading

as home

  

There wereseasons I chased sorrow

down withdrink

dissolvingthe throat lump of loss

with ahundred and one flavors

of oblivion

 

Sorrow once held me hostage

in the trunk of an old beater 

hogtied and ball-gagged

breathing through bullet holes

and trembling

with my heathen prayers

 

I made my scathed escape

shaking

off the Stockholm syndrome

 

easing my way back                                           

to the things I know

by heart

 

Thank you for sharing your poems and for being our guest this week, Michelle.
We wish you continued success with your writing.

And a HUGE thank you to our visitors and readers.
 Don’t be shy, leave a comment if you like.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Nancy Cusack of N.B., Canada.

 

The Scribbler is most fortunate tohave Nancy as our guest this week.

She has kindly agreed to share theSBTS of her new book with our readers. 

The story has received rave reviews and five star ratings.

Read on my friends.

 

NancyCusack is a licensed counselling therapist working in private practice in SaintJohn, New Brunswick, Canada. She has a Bachelor of Science degree from St.Francis Xavier University, a Bachelor of Education degree, and a Master ofEducation in Counselling Psychology degree from the University of NewBrunswick. Nancy is a Certified Canadian Counsellor with the CanadianCounseling and Psychotherapy Association and licensed through the College ofCounselling Therapist New Brunswick. Nancy is a certified EMDR therapist, andhas been helping clients overcome PTSD, anxiety, and other mental health issuesfor almost 20 years. She resides in Rothesay, New Brunswick, with her husbandPatrick. She has two grown children, Jack and Annie, and when not working orwriting she can be found at her camp exploring the immense ATV trail system NewBrunswick has to offer or working on a quilting project with her many catsoffering their assistance.

 

 

Title: Yesteryear Meets Today

 

Synopsis:   Growing upon a farm in New Brunswick at the end of World War II, Ruby Cusack had achildhood filled with animals, chores, visits to the fishing hole and rebellingagainst hair bows and box socials. It was a different time, before socialmedia, cell phones, and television. A time of community and small town life,where everyone knew each other. A time when people were born, raised, marriedand went on to have their own family all in the same small place.

Itwas also a time of storytelling, and Ruby Cusack was good at that, sharingstories of her childhood with her own children. Stories of what she calledyesteryear, the magical time of her own childhood, growing up on the familyhomestead in Titusville.

Original photo taken by school teacher Florence Folkins. 1950.

Herdaughter, Nancy Cusack has gathered together some of Ruby's stories, using themas examples as she shares her own expertise in mental health. Taking her cuesfrom her mother, Cusack, a licensed counselling therapist with twenty years ofexperience, shares her knowledge with compassion and a touch of nostalgia.

Spendsome time with Ruby and learn of shivarees and how they could help lay thefoundation for a strong marriage. Learn about quilting bees and how theybrought women together, what the once extinct eastern panther can teach youabout how your brain works to keep you alive, and why it's human nature to seekrevenge, even though it doesn't usually work out too well for anyone. Bereminded that darkness happens everywhere, that love takes many forms, and thecomfort that can be found in community.

ReadRuby's story, learn from Nancy's wisdom, and be treated to a touch extra withRuby's famous line, 'Oh, by the way...

Spend some time with Ruby in Yesteryear, and with Nancy today. You'll be glad you did.

 

 

TheStory Behind the Story:   My mom, Ruby was a teacher, genealogist,writer and story teller.  She wrote agenealogy column for the telegraph journal for over 20 years.   At the beginning of each genealogy columnwould be a little story about her growing up in rural NB.  When she died in Feb 2022,  her stories of growing up in rural NB keptswirling around in my head.  One nightwhile I’m about to fall asleep I hear my mother’s voice telling me to pair herstories with mental health issues that I am familiar with..  Get writing basically.  “ That story about Ralph Floyds house goesnicely with phobias”.  “ That story aboutthe substitute teacher goes nicely with learning styles”,  “ Nancy, that story about the hard buttergoes well with seasonal depression”.  Inthe coming days I reached out to the telegraph to pitch a continuation of momscolumn with a different twist. They said “No”, so I had no other choice than to write a book!  MY goal was to finish it before my daddied.  Dad was very sick with dementia ina nursing home.  My dad and mom lived inthe same small community and went to the same one room school house inTitusville. So Mom’s stories were really his stories too.  I dedicated the book to my Dad, and when Ireceived my very first book on June 20th, 2024, it went to my Dad.  I would read to him every visit, and he wouldremember the stories!  Dad died Aug 8,2024.

 

Website: Please go HERE.


A question before you go, Nancy:



Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?



Nancy: My ideal spot to write is at work, in my office with light music playing, and my colleagues chit chatting in their offices, and common areas. When Im at the office I do not worry about the laundry, the dishes, the dust, or letting the dog in, and then the cat out, then in again, and then out, then in. 

***Nancy was recently interviewed by the Saint John Telegraph Journal. Visit her website to learn more.


Congratulations on the great write-up. 
Thank you for being our guest this week, Nancy. We wish you continued success with your stories.


And thank you to our terrific Readers and Visitors.

Summer Paths. The wait is finally over!

 

This,the fourth and final selection of stories, completes the Seasonal Paths seriescreated by a consortium of best-selling and award-winning North
Atlantic writers.

In this anthology you will encounter unintentioned consequences, love in later life,the pull of family dynamics, misguided assumptions and murderous soulmates.

These yarns will take you to new worlds, into a ghostly abyss, across an oceanin pursuit of truth and into the darkness of ancient beliefs.
Make yourself comfortable and surrender to these multi-styled tales, all linkedby the theme of summer, within the covers of this book. You will be surprised
and entertained by what you find.

 

 

Clean Laundry by Sandra Bunting.

It only takes one. What happens if someonemoves in and tries to change everything? A good thing? Or not?

 MeetSandra HERE.

 

The Year of the Goat by Pierre C. Arseneault.

A pregnant Esmerelda has gone missing, andGus must find her before something bad happens.

Meet Pierre HERE.

 

 

Family Ties byChuck Bowie.

Lucas glanced at the handsome aviator glasseson his hotel room table. “I wonder where they came from.”

Meet Chuck HERE.

 

 

The Huntress by S. C. Eston.

An injured woman is found on the side of theroad…

Meet S.C. HERE.

 

 

Alice by Angela Wren.

A ship, a missing passenger and a mystery.

Meet Angela HERE.

Fakes on a Plane by Gianetta Murray.

Flying can be dangerous. But maybe not for thereason you think.

Meet Gianetta HERE.

Foul Play by Eden Monroe.

Never underestimate the children.

Meet Eden HERE.

 

Into the Abyss by Allan Hudson

In moments of curiosity, perhaps there aresome paths we are not meant to follow.

 

The Last Resort byAngella Cormier.

Everything Sienna Noori had dreamed about wascoming true, until she settled in an idyllic mountain resort, where hernightmares forged a dangerous path.

Meet Angella HERE.

 

 

Thisanthology is dedicated to running through meadows full of wildflowers,watching bees, hummingbirds and butterflies grace the air, to buildingsandcastles, and to lazing in a hammock with a good book. It is for cooling offin the sea or finding shade on a swing under an old tree. It is a hope thatsummer will continue to take us on adventures and lead us down intriguingpaths.

S. Bunting

 

 

 

 

Collectthe whole Series. Please go HERE.

 

Thankyou for visiting the Scribbler.

The Story Behind the Story with Bea Waters of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Say hello to Bea!

This week we have the pleasure offeaturing Ms. Waters and she is going to share the good news of her debut novel.

Plus, she treats us (teases us?) toan excerpt of  Book Two in the series.

Read on my friends

 

 

BeaWaters has been writing stories since childhood. Back then it was her way toescape the bullies, but today she strives to provide an escape into adventurefor all who need one, while fostering a sense of belonging and cooperation. Herfavourite characters are the weirdos, those who have been downcast by thestatus quo, because the future is never created by the status quo. Herfavourite themes centre around the secrets we keep and the quest to find ourtribe, our community.

ProjectHuman is Bea's first published novel, and the first in a series that fusesAncient Mythology from around the world with the genres of Science Fiction andFantasy.

 

Title: Project Human

 

Synopsis:

Olivia Carpenter hates her life. The kids at school bully her; even her dad treats her like a disease. When Olivia runs away, she doesn't expect to be beamed up by telepathic aliens and transported halfway across the galaxy, where she discovers a universe teeming with intelligent life - including twelve alien tribes who have engineered human DNA to suit their needs. Caught in the crosshairs of a galactic tug of war, she's sworn to secrecy about her "Terran" origins until an attempt on her life forces her to trust her new alien friends with her identity. Will Olivia be able to unravel the mystery of Project Human before she's permanently silenced?

The Story Behind the Story:

I’minsanely fascinated with cultures from around the world. In my studies, I beganseeing repetition between cultures that I could not ignore. For example, theMi’kmaq people of Atlantic Canada had a written language before colonizersarrived with English and French. Their alphabet of glyphs, written on birchbark, were recorded by a priest. Hundreds of years later, when the RosettaStone enabled the translation of hieroglyphs from Ancient Egypt, the glyphs andtheir meanings were almost identical to that of the Mi’kmaq people. Clearly, acultural exchanged happened between these people, or they both had a commonorigin.

Also,when I learned about the Annunaki, the Creator-Gods of the ancient Sumerianpeople, they claimed that they were genetically engineered by the Annunaki tomine gold for them. (Some have discounted that translation, without offering abetter one, so I digress..) Coupled with humanity’s obsession with amassing asmuch gold as we can, I began to wonder. This is the oldest human created recordthat we have, so it’s also likely the closest to the truth.

Iset out on a mental journey to understand our hidden past, humanity’s trueorigin story. I created it as a tv series, meant for an adult audience. Thepitch was good: Thirteen alien species are fighting to control planet Earth,because we are their science project...

Ipitched Project Human at the Banff Media Festival to Matt Loze, VP ofDevelopment at Fox Studios. He loved the pitch, he loved the worlds I had builtand how each one was connected to a different culture around the world. And hecouldn’t sign my show without giving the power to someone else who would runthis big budget behemoth and make it their own thing. He wanted this to be mything. He gave me the nicest rejection I’ve ever gotten. He told me to look atThe Walking Dead, at Game of Thrones, and write this as a series of books. Hesaid that once I had the stories on paper and an audience behind it, peoplelike him would be in a bidding war for Project Human.

Ireturned home and got to work, but I decided to write the entire story from thepoint of view of a teenager, because a teen is still open to new experiences,to the possibility of aliens. Having a teen protagonist allowed me to beginlaying out my grand unifying origin story for the human race without theresistance that an adult protagonist would bring to this massive revelation. Iwanted this to be a non-stop adventure, full of twists and surprises, anchoredin the common connections we share as a global species.

I’malso on a mission to infuse my books with ancient knowledge about the worldthat has been lost or hidden. Book one begins with Olivia practising agrounding technique taught to her by her grandmother. This later feeds into thestory, but it’s also meant to show readers how to do an actual groundingpractice, if they want that in their lives.

I’mreally proud of book one, and I am currently editing book two.

 

Website: Go HERE.

***I’m getting ready to start anewsletter called “Occulted World” which actually just means “Hidden World”. Itwill be all about things that have been hidden from us by those who hold power.So if any of what you’ve read is interesting, please go to my website and signup today!

 

 

 

A question before you go, Bea:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Musicin the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Bea:

I write at my dining room table whenthe house is quiet. Often a mug of purified water sits at my side, butsometimes black coffee or peppermint tea sneak their way in. I don’t generallywrite with music, unless I’m really craving Chopin piano nocturnes recorded at432Hz. My workspace is messy to the right of my daily organizer, but the restof the table has to be clutter free. When the words don’t flow, I get up andpace around, talking to myself and answering in the voices of my characters toget things going. I could never do that in a coffee shop, which is why I alwayswrite in private. Now you know one of my secrets!

 

 

 

 

This is an excerpt from Book 2 of theProject Human series, Atlantis Rising . This book is still under construction,so this passage may have some grammar errors. Apologies if that is the case.

Retchen was correct aboutthe rural nature of route 785. Beyond Lake Utopia, all traces of humancivilization vanished. The paved road gave way to a wide path of compactedgravel, and soon, even the power lines stopped. Anyone living this far fromtown would have to be a survivalist. Retchen salivated. Tonight’s menu would bea challenge.

The red van pulled overnext to a lone driveway that disappeared into a stretch of deep forest. Retchenlocked up the van and leaned a tire pump against one of the back tires. Ifanyone actually passed his van on this desolate stretch of road, it would looklike he’d had troubles and had gone for help. Nobody would suspect the vanitself meant trouble.

He inhaled deeply,enjoying the early scents of rotting leaves and fungal decay that had begun totake hold. The warm weather had stretched fully into mid-September; the onlyreal indication that summer was coming to a close were the vibrant colours overtakingthe green of the maples, oaks, and birch trees. Thankfully, half of the leaveswere still attached to their branches, providing a decent amount of cover. Hecrept through the woods as if he was the wind itself. Eight thousand years ofpractice had given him the ability to be practically imperceptible. Nobodywould have sensed his approach at all, if it hadn’t been for a murder of crowsthat cawed loudly and flew away.

Why did the crows alwayshave to make such a ruckus?

The squeal of rusty hingesfollowed the cacophony of the crows.

“Who’s there? I ain’t‘specting no one. Show yourself before I unload this here shotgun at ya.”

Perfect. If he wasn’texpecting company, Retchen’s meal would be undisturbed. Retchen dropped to acrouch and leapt into the air, grabbing a branch high up in a white pine. Heswung around the branch like a gymnast and landed on it with barely a crackle fromthe bark betraying his lookout.

From high up, Retchencould see the entire property, including a post with a husky dog on a chain anda well worn path all around. The poor beast had been confined to three metresof this yard for most of his life. He’d stopped caring about intruders longago.

“Show yourself!”

With his shotgun snuggedinto his shoulder and his finger tapping on the trigger guard, the homesteaderlooked down the barrel to his left, then his right.

“I know you’re out there.I can smell your stench. Gutted one of your kind a few years back and I’m gon’do it again.”

Retchen was used to a lotof things, but he was not used to being recognized by scent. He was even lessprepared to hear that one of his siblings had fallen prey to its own dinner. Hetwitched, snapping a twig.

The gunman swung hisshotgun up towards the trees and fired, spraying the pine with pellets. The aimwas a bit low, but the upper radius of the spray still managed to pepperRetchen’s legs. Dozens upon dozens of pellets punctured his clothing,shattering the scales underneath. Small dots of violet soaked through theflimsy fabric of his cable guy outfit. He had to act quickly. He had preciousfew moments before a second shot would land, better aimed. Wincing, he lungedfrom the tree, aiming himself directly at this puny human who had somehowinjured him.

The gunman saw him comingand jumped sideways, swinging his shotgun around, but the gun was too long, andRetchen was too fast. He snatched the barrel, his scaly palm unaffected by thescorching heat of the metal. He twisted the barrel sideways and snatched at theman’s throat, choking him up off the ground.

“What was it you were gon’do?” Retchen mocked, as the man kicked and thrashed his free hand in mid air.Normally, Retchen would play with his prey for a while, savouring the momentsas true fear settled in. But now that he was injured, he needed to repair hiswounds quickly, before another problem popped out of the bushes.

He squeezed the man’sthroat until the struggle ebbed out of him. The man thrashed for a good thirtyseconds, gurgling to the dog who whimpered but refused to move. He’d beentaught that his place was chained to the pole, and that’s where he planned tostay.

After a few minutes of struggle, the gunman stopped thrashing.Retchen lowered the bruised neck onto his razor sharp teeth and the flesh gaveway, adrenaline-rich human blood gushing forth, like a balloon losing its air.He gulped it back, barely spilling a drop, having not eaten properly in weeks.He drank until the human was dry and when he was done, he unceremoniouslydropped the body on the ground, nodded at the dog, and went inside the cabin.

 

 

 

Book two sounds as fascinating as the first, Bea.

We wish you continued success with your stories and thank you forbeing our guest this week.

And thank you to all our readers and visitors.

The Story Behind the Story with Gianetta Murray of Great Britain.

 

Let’s welcome Gianetta to theScribbler.

This is not her first visit. You may rememberher from an earlier post when she shared the inspiration for her short story inthe Spring Path anthology. If you missed it, please go HERE.

Read on my friends.

 

 

Gianetta Murray has worked as a technical writer and librarian for over40 years in the US and the UK. She grew up in California and moved to SouthYorkshire in 2005 after marrying a Brit. Netta enjoys Hollywood musicals,touring stately homes, and playing the ukelele. She is owned by two cats.

 

Title: Movedto Murder: A Vivien Brandt Mystery

                                                                             



Synopsis: Vivien has spent decades dreaming about a life in England as an interior designer. Thanks to her marriage to second husband Geoffrey, her dreams are finally coming true and she and her cat Sydney are the newest inhabitants of a cozy South Yorkshire village.

But as Vivien meets the locals, she finds she has a lot to learn about her new home. Especially after she discovers a body in it.

Now she must work with neighbor Hayley and a mistrustful police inspector to uncover the village’s secrets and find a killer. It seems when the chips (crisps?) are down, the only common language between America and Britain…is murder.

The Story Behind the Story:

I’vealways loved mysteries, and read all the classics—Christie, Tey, Marsh—as I wasgrowing up. I gravitated toward the cozy genre because (a) no animals areharmed; (b) I don’t have to know a whole lot about police procedure; (c) I getto add some humor; and (d) there’s a sense of fair play and justice about them.

Asa California expat living in Yorkshire myself, it only seemed natural to givemy protagonist the same challenges and experiences I’d already faced and knewvery well. One of the advantages to starting a writing career later in life andis that you have a lot of life experience to write about!

Sotwo years ago I packed in my job managing a university library and sat down towrite. In addition to Moved to Murder, I’ve also published a collectionof humorous paranormal stories and contributed to multiple literaryanthologies, including the Paths series so well known to your readers. 😊

I’mcurrently working on the second book in the Vivien Brandt series, Dug toDeath, and I already have a cracking plot in mind for the third, Shippedto Slaughter.

 

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Gianetta:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Gianetta: My husband still has a paying job, so he usually gets the home office and I’m relegated to the dining room table. He’s taken a bit of a sabbatical, though, so I’ve tossed him out of the office! I work in silence and like a neat space, but I do have a view of the back garden and the various neighborhood cats stalking birds (or each other). And I love to start the afternoon with a hot cup of chai tea.



An Excerpt from Moved to Murder, Chapter 1.

Wordsworth, Mary Queen of Scots, Churchill, Jack the Ripper.

Vivien Brandt simply adored all things British. The love affair started when she saw Upstairs, Downstairs at the impressionable age of ten and blossomed steadily over the years, fueled by daydreams about what her life would be like in the country she cherished.
Now her dreams were finally coming true.

Vivien wiped the last streaks off the front window and stepped back to enjoy the sight of her new home, a two-story redbrick situated in the South Yorkshire village of Nether Chatby. It was absolutely perfect and she sighed with happiness.

No one had been surprised when she announced she was moving to England. They only wondered that it had taken her so long. But a moderately successful career, marriage, and the love of friends and family had all provided valid excuses for her inertia.

Instead, she survived for decades on mere glimpses of Britain, making the long flight over whenever she could save up enough money and vacation time, starting with her first trip after college graduation. She’d been thrilled to find the country exceeded the promise of her beloved Victorian dramas. The gardens were stunning, the food wasn’t nearly as bad as rumored, and she suspected plumbing had greatly improved since the nineteenth century. She enjoyed being called “ginger” instead of “redhead”, although she considered herself more titian-haired, like Nancy Drew.

When Charlie, her charmingly irresponsible first husband, arrived in her life, the dream came dangerously close to being suffocated. But after his gambling addiction finally put an end to their twelve-year marriage, Vivien began to rebuild her bank account and revived thoughts of moving to London, where she hoped her Silicon Valley tech-writing experience might snag her a job. She’d been exploring interior design—even taking night classes—but knew there wasn’t a living to be made as a novice in a brand-new country.

So she continued to work at increasingly unfulfilling jobs, saving and planning for the future, and relied on visits across The Pond to keep the dream alive.

Pulling her thoughts back to the present, Vivien noted the ivy growing up the left corner of the house to curl ever so gracefully around an upstairs window frame. She’d either need a very tall ladder or a regular gardener to keep it in check, but it looked so lovely and…well…British. Visiting Americans would be impressed by the house, especially the ones naive enough to believe Geoffrey’s sardonic assurances that Shakespeare once slept there. Vivien found most of her friends couldn’t name the countries that made up the United Kingdom, much less which century gave birth to the greatest-ever English playwright. She’d given up trying to explain devolved parliaments, or why Andy Murray was British when he won a tennis grand slam and Scottish when he lost.

She shivered in her short-sleeved shirt and black jeans, clothing that would have been appropriate at this time of year in her native California, but which was unequal to the chill of northern England in October. A few houses up the road a door slammed and she watched a tow-headed teenager dressed entirely in black stalk away from her toward the village center, his body stiff and his fists clenched. Probably disgusted with his parents, she mused with a wry smile. Some rites of passage were universal and she suspected teen rebellion was one of them.

Her gaze landed on the house next door, with its dark windows and empty driveway. No one had come or gone since she and Geoffrey had moved in a couple of days ago, but there was no To Let or For Sale sign, so she assumed the owners were simply on vacation. Or holiday, as they said here.

Or maybe they’re all lying dead inside and we won’t know until the smell escapes. Vivien chuckled at her overactive imagination. She really needed to stop reading so many murder mysteries.



Thank you for being our guest this week, Gianetta. We wish you continued success with your stories.

And another special thank you to all our visitors and readers.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Chantal MacDonald of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Let’s welcome Chantal back to theScribbler.

She is no stranger to the blog and weare thrilled to have her return to share the news of her latest novel.

If you missed her previous visit,please go HERE.

Read on my friends.

Teacher by trade, Chantal has a Master of Arts in English Literature from the University of Ottawa. She loves writing stories that will both entertain and encourage a variety of audiences. When she’s not writing or teaching, Chantal enjoys baking and traveling with her family. Chantal resides in Moncton, New Brunswick, with her husband and three young children.

Title: Peaceon a New Horizon

 

Synopsis:

Could heading in a new direction unlock the peace Sadie has always craved?

In the coastal city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, university student Sadie Jones seems to have it all—top grades, great friends, and a boyfriend who adores her. But beneath the surface, doubts about her future and a lingering sense of unrest gnaw at her well-laid plans.

As Sadie battles indecision, a spark of hope ignites when a humanitarian organization piques her interest in travelling abroad. She wonders if this trip just might give her the clarity she seeks.

But when challenges arise, Sadie finds herself in unexpected territory. She must navigate the unwelcome flirting from Damien Santos, the organization’s charismatic recruitment officer, in addition to the resulting emotional turmoil of her usually steady boyfriend, Tom. She also faces a series of strides and setbacks in her academic life. Her emotions are conflicted, not only about Tom, but about the direction of her future. Will God give the courage to pursue her servant heart’s true calling, even if it means letting go of the life she thought she wanted?

The Story Behind the Story:

I was always interested in writing. I spent a lot of time studying literature and writing reports during my Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts degrees. However, while writing a book had always interested me, I never dreamed about being a writer in the same way that I dreamed about being a teacher. When I decided to pursue writing intentionally at the beginning of 2020, I approached it as a different medium for teaching. I could use the stories that I wrote to entertain, but also encourage and teach values that I believe to be important.

The first book that I began to write, I knew I envisioned it as a series—there was so much story to share! Although I was doubtful if I would be able to successfully write one book let alone several. But now that I have just published book three and have begun to write book four, I know better than to doubt myself.

When I began compiling my ideas, there were a few important details that I knew I wanted to include: the main character needed to be entering life outside of high school; the setting needed to be an Atlantic Canadian fishing town (a nod to my Miramichi upbringing); and there needed to be themes of hope while facing some of the harsh realities of life.

From there I just began to write. There are two kinds of writers—planners and pantsers (those who write by the seat of their pants). I am the latter. I knew where I wanted to start and I knew where I wanted to end, the in-between was a bit of a mystery at times. The characters and circumstances unfolded as I wrote, several of them surprising even me.

This novel, Peace on a New Horizon, held some lovely surprises for me as I wrote. I love the way that the characters and their world have a voice all their own now. I can’t wait to see what the fourth book holds!



Website: Go HERE.

A question before you go, Chantal:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Chantal: My ideal writing space and my actual writing space are, in fact, worlds apart. I think that if I were to create the perfect environment to craft my stories, I would be in a secluded beachside cabana sipping an iced coffee. Reality, however, has me writing wherever time and space allows. I write in the margins of life as a stay-at-home mom to three young children, so it fluctuates. Most often I find myself in a cluttered office, sipping lukewarm coffee, and listening to our hamster rustle in his crate. I’m happy with that reality though, because even though it isn’t a beachside cabana, the stories still get written.



An Excerpt from Peace on a New Horizon



Chapter One

“Well, that’s no better than two farts in a windstorm.” The old man grunted and threw his cards on the table so hard he almost tipped his wheelchair.

“Now Eugene, it’s just a game. A game that I am clearly going to win.” Sadie Jones laid her cards on the table and then advanced her crib peg far ahead of her opponent. “You have won the last three times we played. Don’t you think it’s only fair that I win once in a while?”

Eugene crossed his arms and shook his head, looking much like a sullen child. “No. Beating you in crib is the only joy that I have in this dark, miserable existence. If I don’t have that, what do I have?”

Sadie rolled her eyes at him over top of the cards fanned out in her hand. “Nice try, but we both know you are perfectly content with your life. Except for maybe the banana bread pudding.”

“Fine, you got me. But I still like to beat you.” He laid down his last cards and tallied his score which brought his peg close to Sadie’s but not enough to surpass her.

“Looks like I’m going to take this one whether you like it or not.” Sadie laid her final card, which put her score a full six places ahead of Eugene’s peg. She pumped her arms in victory. “Do you hear that, Eugene?”

“Hear what? I’m half-deaf, you know.”

“The sound of victory. Isn’t it sweet?” It was Eugene’s turn to roll his eyes, but Sadie could not help taking a moment to gloat. He beat her so often that she rarely got the opportunity to savour a win. “Shall we go get some celebratory dessert? I think it’s banana pudding day.”

Eugene groaned as Sadie rolled his wheelchair from the activity room to the dining room.

Mandy, one of the full-time RNs came up to Sadie after Eugene had been set up with a banana-free treat and a rerun of Jeopardy. “You are really great with the residents Miss Jones. We love having you as a volunteer.”

Sadie smiled her thanks at the compliment. “It’s fun. I really enjoy my time with them, especially when they tell stories.”

“Oh yes, they do love having a captive audience, even if some of those stories are a bit more fiction than fact at this point. It’s almost as though—”

“Nurse! Hey, nurse!” Mandy was interrupted by one of the other residents who was seated next to Eugene. “I want to be moved. This guy is hacking and spitting and it’s disgusting. I can’t eat with him doing that.”

Even from where Sadie was standing, it was obvious that Eugene was turning a deep shade of purple. Mandy rushed to Eugene as the rest of the residents around him started to shuffle and chaos began to erupt. Sadie could feel her own panic rising. Her pulse quickened, her breathing came in short gasps, and her feet were frozen in place. Help‐ less, she watched as Mandy struck Eugene’s back repeatedly. When that didn’t work, Mandy wrapped her arms around the small man’s rib cage and pulled hard until the airway was unblocked and he was breathing again.

****

Make sure you visit Chantal's website.

Thank you for being our guest this week, Chantal. We wish you continued success with your writing.


And a special thank you to our precious readers and visitors.

The Story Behind the Story with Kade Cook of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Let’s welcome Kade to theScribbler.

We are more than pleased to have her share the SBTS of her latest work.

Read on my friends.

 

Kade Cook is a major fantasy fangirl. Her love of Twilight, The Mortal Instruments and A Court of Thorns and Roses inspired her to write her own fantasy book series, The Covenant of Shadows.

Book one, GREY, was a finalist for the 2017 Emerging Writer's Prize for Canada's best new books in Speculative Fiction.

Born and raised as a 'Maritimer' through and through, Kade will always be at home around good times and kind hearts, proud to be a daydreamer with a story to tell.

 

 

Title:  GREY – The Covenant ofShadows(Book One)

 

Synopsis:
Enchantments will fail.
Closet doors will open.

And skeletons—all dressed in their finest secrets—will come out to dance.

Raised in urban downtown New York, Gabrian holds no grand illusions of how life really works. And legends of magic and vampires, nothing more than a bunch of hocus pocus stuffed within book pages or painted on the big screen.

But when a woman, no one else can see, enters her office and delivers a riddle filled warning about her intended fate, Gabrian's grip on sanity takes a big hit—terrified she is falling into madness.

As Gabrian untangles secrets of her past, she discovers a powerful, hidden world of magic.

A supernatural world in which there is no return.

Now, she must choose a side.

To walk in the light… or to run within the shadows of darkness.

GREY, the first book in The Covenant of Shadows series of captivating urban fantasy novels, is new Vampire lore, a bit of romance and the supernatural, inspired by the beautiful minds that brought you City of Bones, Twilight and ACOTAR.

The Story Behind the Story:

Inever dreamed of being a writer though I have always dabbled in words. I havebeen writing poems and songs since I was old enough to hold a guitar. But theday I began my writing journey was one of survival.

Asa single mom, I had worked my entire career using my brain as a softwaredeveloper then that of a quality assurance tester for another software companybut then I decided to get married again and start the second part of myfamily—giving up my career and becoming a stay at home mom. This was everythingI ever wanted until it wasn’t. I loved my children dearly but I was losingpieces of me more and more every day and began to slip into a dark, sad placein my mind. One can only find challenge in changing diapers and wiping nosesfor so long, to which I must mention I had four children in five years, therewere a lot of noses and diapers.

Everydayday had become a chore. The rising of the sun my only source of hope. Until theday my friend announced he was having a book launch of his first book. I was soexcited and proud of him.

Imentioned something about how excited I was for him, and how I wished I coulddo something amazing like that to which he sarcastically responded, “Well ifyou are so bored with your life, why don’t you write a book?”

Andso I did.

OnceI made the decision, the words came flying in every direction. And I tried mybest to keep up. Six months later, GREY was born and I had never felt so alivein years.

GREYwill always be my favourite book I write, always. Why, you ask? Because itsaved me. It pulled me up from the darkness of the mundane into the light ofwho I was always meant to be. It was the birth of the writer inside of me thatI never truly knew. And for that I will always be grateful. Some people spendtheir entire life searching for who they truly are, and now for me the searchis over and the journey has merely begun.

 

 

Website: please go HERE

A question before you go, Kade:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Kade: I don’t think I have an ideal place. For me I always carry a notebook around with me, whether it is the hockey rink, the dentist or even just going on a car trip so when the words or ideas hit me I am most of the time ready to become the scribe for the gift being relayed to me.

Coffee…definitely. But I would not turn my nose up to a good Margarita :P

I would call it more of an organized chaos… so it is in the eye of the beholder.

An Excerpt from GREY:

In alow monotone voice Gabrian speaks. “It was all real wasn’t it.”

Sarapheanelooks at Jarrison quickly. He shrugs his shoulders slightly and shakes hishead, unable to understand what Gabrian is saying.

“Iam sorry, honey, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” Sarapheane whispers.

In alouder, more lethargic voice she repeats herself. “It was all real.”

Jarrisonand Sarapheane struggle to find the right way to tell her and begin speaking atthe same time, stumbling with the words. “It is not that...” her father triesto start.

“Wedid not intend for you…” Sarapheane fumbles.

Gabrianinterrupts them, still looking lost. “The monsters I used to hear under my bedat night when I was sick,” she says with conviction, not listening to herparents at all. “The things and people I used to see in the shadows when I wasalone. All the scary childhood monsters that I hid from under my covers atnight, they were all real weren't they?” Gabrian drifts back to childhood,remembering the handsome young man that used to come and talk with her when shewould wander out of the house at night to play at the edge of the gate. He hadseemed so real to her. Although her parents told her he wasn’t. That he wasjust a figment of her overactive imagination. Ayden...he was real.

Understandingthat there is no reason to lie to her anymore, they both say, “Yes!” Jarrisonand Sarapheane reach for each other and join hands, gently squeezingthem—feeling a bit of relief from admitting the small fragment of truth.Knowing that they have a long few days ahead of them.

 Also from Kade Cook

 

Thankyou, Kade, for being our guest this week.

We wishyou continued success on your writing journey.

 

 

And aBIG thank you to all our visitors and readers.

The Story Behind the Story with Paige LePage of New Brunswick, Canada.

Let’s welcome Paige, another newcomer to the Scribbler.

She has kindly accepted our invitation to share the SBTS of her latest work.Read on my friends.


I started writing later in life, I have always been an avid reader. The first books to really leave an impression on me as a younger reader were The Hero and the Crown and The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. I read and re-read those books a few dozen times.

As I got older my mother shared her Harlequin books with me and I read them all, even purchased more on my own. My mother also shared her love of mystery and thrillers, sharing her Steven King books, Nora Roberts, Sue Grafton, and many more.

I blame my love of reading on my mother... giggle it is always the mother’s fault.

Pre-Covid I was doing a lot of reading, and I stumbled across some really poorly written books and had the thought that I could do better. So, I challenged myself to write a romance novel just to see if I could really do better. And … so began my writing journey. Much like the heroine of my first book, I wrote in secret. Once I was done, I sat and stared at it, dumbfounded that I … wrote a book! Now what?

First thing I did was send it to a few trusted friends to read and give me their honest opinions. Then I spent 2 years trying to get traditionally published, but I kept being turned down because the book did not fit into specific categories that some places wanted.

At the urging of several people, I turned to Amazon and became an "Indie Author."

My first book, Her Hero's Revenge, is a steamy romance.

I then decided to try a slightly different genre with Is It In The Cards, a paranormal mystery.

I am currently working on book 3, another romance; the female antagonist from the first book needed her own story.

Title:  Is It In The Cards

 

Synopsis:

Angela started life off as a well-rounded child; smart, athletic, pretty … a tiny firecracker of a kid. It seemed she was on every sports team going. She did well in school. It seemed she had it all. Until she didn’t when her life changed. Drastically changed.
Puberty, some would say, is rough on everyone, but in Angela’s case it was horrible. It brought on a “gift” she never asked for that forced her to quit most activities. Sports were out of the question for the most part. She gave up on hanging out with her friends. She spent her evenings mewed up in her room, studying … but really just trying to shut out the world that seemed to be out to get her. Trying to shut out all those voices that swirled around, shouting at her from some unknown dimension.

Fast forward to university and cut to an unexpected and rare outing to play poker with acquaintances. The cards brought a gift of calmness and revealed a new best friend who helped her make sense of it all, opening her world up to a brand-new future full of brand-new possibilities, bringing her out of her self-imposed isolation.

Another twist brings her into contact with a skeptical but open-minded local police Captain, leading to another way to help others in need, but bringing her face to face with new dangers and a fight for her very life!

Come join Angela in a paranormal tale of mystery, romance and unexpected dangers. Follow her to find out what is in the cards for her and those around her …

TheStory Behind the Story:

Well…. they saywrite about what you know.

When I wasyounger there was a period of time where I seem to have flashes like thecharacter in the book.  I would use aplain deck of playing cards and would tell people about their past and future.

I often wonderedwhat would have happened had I honed my talents… aside from freaking out a fewfriends as I had.  LOL

So, this was myinterpretation on what could have happen had I wanted to go down that road.

 

 

Website – please go HERE.

A question before you go Paige.




Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Paige: Messy or neat? … If you could only see my computer desk at home. LOL

Coffee or Tequila? … I don’t drink coffee… do with that as you will. 😊

I wrote the majority of my book in my down time at work. Several times I had supervisors and co-workers stop by my desk and say, “What are you doing? Writing a book?” The look on their faces when I actually said, “Why, yes, I am” was priceless.

I wrote at work because of my busy family life at home. I had 2 young children, a husband and a dog that all needed attention. So … free time and quiet were hard to find.

When I did write at home … mostly the spicy scenes … I would usually have music playing in the background, something that I thought would fit the situation I was writing about. Sam Smith, The Weekend, Barry White… etc.


Also by Paige.




An Excerpt from Is It In The Cards:

 

She could smell the smoke and coughedtrying to clear her airways but the phantom smoke choked her, burning her eyes,and she gasped for breath, panicking more when the scents of burnt rubber andleaking gas and oil was added to the mix. She saw the blood of the other driver coming out of his nose, mouth, andears.  His airbag had not deployed.  He wasn’t moving and his skin looked ghastlypale, almost a greenish hue.  She couldhear the moans of her instructor, his shouts for help as he was stuck in the gnarledmess of the car.  She could hear thepanic in his cries when he caught the odor of the gas leaking out of the car,terrified it was going to blow up.  Shecould hear the approaching sirens of firetrucks, police cars and other rescuevehicles, but she feared they wouldn’t make it in time to save him. 

It was all toomuch, too overwhelming, and she gasped and fell to her knees, shaking,coughing, crying with smoke filled eyes and shock as she had never seenanything so gruesome in any of her previous visions. 

Thank you for being our guest this week, Paige. We wish you continued success with your stories.

And a special thank you to all our visitors and readers.