So, What’s Happened to Listen to the Stones? I Did a Thing…

Most authors know that the story they set out to write and the story they end up writing are never exactly the same. No matter whether you’re a plotter or a pantser, life happens, and things change. Sometimes, the story just doesn’t work, and when that happens, you have to go back and figure out why. Writing involves putting words down, but it also means research, character development, rereading what’s been written, editing, and rewriting some more until the piece is as good as you can possibly make it.

Listen to the Stones was or rather is no different. My visit to the Standing Stones of Calanais touched a creative spark in me that I rediscovered only a few years ago–my love of fantasy. I had written a couple of novels dealing with mild paranormal, specifically reincarnation, but I’d only attempted a fantasy with its own mythos with Atonement. Looking at the stones, walking amongst them, and touching them set off a creative chain reaction I hadn’t expected. I had to write about this place and introduce it to my readers to it since I was sure that many, like me, had never heard of it and didn’t know such places existed.

My original plan was to write a winter love story set on the Isle of Lewis and Harris. My cover artist, who indulges all of my flights of fancy and changes of mind, had created a cover for that book, but as I started working on it, I realized that there was more paranormal in it than simple romance should have.

I was only a half-dozen chapters into the story when I realized it wasn’t working for me. The story needed to be more than a romance novel. So, I set it aside and worked on something else.

When Love at the Pickleback was finished, Listen to the Stones called me back, and I realized that the story needed to be about the incredible stones themselves, and how they’d come to be there, cursed as it were. So, I decided the focus should be on breaking the curse and releasing the souls trapped within the stones. The information provided at the site claimed the folktale was that the people living on the island had been turned to stone for refusing to accept Christianity.

That was all well and good, but I wanted something more, something that would allow me to create two souls separated by time and circumstance, making the book fit much better into the Timless Love series. Once again, my outstanding cover artist rose to the challenge and created a cover similar to the one for Beneath the Ashes my book which deals with lovers separated by the volcanic eruption at Pompeii and reunited in a new timeline.

So, I went back, reworked the beginning, and created a mythology of my own that explained where the stones originated and why the souls had been trapped within the rocks. I researched and drew from Celtic, Scottish, Irish, and Norse mythologies. I learned all I could about paganism, druidism, Wicca, witchcraft, and the supernatural as it affected Scotland. The more I discovered, the more amazed I was.

The story flowed from my fingertips. I fleshed out the characters and brought them to life, but as I wrote, new ideas flooded me, ideas that invaded my dreams and stayed with me long after. As I neared the end of the novel, I realized it would be a monster to publish. It was close to 700 pages! The cost of the paperback would be prohibitive and even the ebook would be expensive. So, I did what any other author would do. I went back to the beginning with the intention to slash and burn. I was frustrated. There was so much that needed to be kept for the story to make sense. At one point, I simply closed the file and went on to something else.

That’s when I decided to focus on A Case of Mistaken Identity, the first book in my Evie Chambers Mysteries series. I’d wanted to do something about the Empress of Ireland for years, and this seemed the perfect time since it was also NANOWRIMO. A shorter book in a month worked for me. I kept the story light and as factual as possible. It was well received, and i have several ideas for the next books in the series.

By then, the holidays were upon us and writing took a back seat. But, the stones kept calling to me. I discussed the matter with my best friend and sounding board, and she proposed making the book into a series. Initially, I couldn’t see how it could be done, but then, little by little, the idea grew. Each section would have to have its own focus. It would need to somehow be a complete story onto itself, like the books in The Harvester Files were, and yet it would need to be a stepping stone into the greater story, much like The Lord of the Rings, Outlander, and Harry Potter books. The focus would be on the fantasy aspects, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting the characters together right away. I could bring them along, tease at their connections, and embroiled my readers in my hero and heroine’s dilemma, giving my villain a voice as well. After all, if you’re going to have good and evil do battle, the reader needs to see evil for what it is.

Once I accepted the idea, I set about figuring out how to make it work. It would involve adding context, rearranging and moving some of what I’d already written, and delving more deeply into the fantasy aspect of the story, and as always researching everything to make in probable if not believable.

In the end, I did some brainstorming and came up with the four sections of the story, giving each one a separate title under the umbrella name Listen to the Stones. So, here we have the book descrition for the first four books of the series:

True love is the most powerful magic in the universe. For ten millennia, the world has waited but now, the time of reckoning approaches. When it arrives, the Chosen One will have a chance to break a curse and reverse an eons old spell. The choice is hers, to be made using free will, the gift given to all by the Mother of the Gods. If she makes the right choice, she’ll save her world; the wrong one will doom them all. But to do so, she has to believe in herself, her psychic abilities, magic, and the power of love.

“You must fulfill your destiny, find true love, and break the curse.” Those were Marina Fraser Robertson Mitchell’s grandmother’s last words, but Nana hadn’t been well for a long time. She’d lived in a fantasy world, filled with delusions, no doubt brought on by her unusual beliefs and the recollection of the folk tales she used to read to her as a child.

But if there was such a thing as a curse, Nana’s words were prophetic. Marina’s life has consisted of one overwhelming loss after another. Added to the sense of failure is the fact that she feels as if she doesn’t belong here. She spends her days battling fears and phobias, trying to downplay the way she can hear the thoughts of others, and her nights fighting off monsters in recurring nightmares that threaten her sanity. But these bad dreams feel more like memories than imaginings. At the heart of them, amidst the horror, are strange standing stones that speak to her in an ancient language, a faceless lover, and a red-eyed creature who terrifies her.

When she loses the last thing she holds dear and her world is crumbling beneath her, she’s distraught, convinced that she should never have been born. But things aren’t as dismal as she believes. Changes are happening within her, some as frightening as they are liberating. The answer may be within reach—an inheritance from a great-uncle she never knew existed. To claim it, she has to return to the Scottish island where she was born, but can she do so? Can she face the thought of living on an island, surrounded by deep water, the thing that terrifies her most?

A firm believer in mysticism and reincarnation, archeologist and novelist Jerome Morrison can’t deny the power of the mysterious stone circle near Fraser Hall, stones that speak to him. The last few years, a woman has haunted his dreams, a woman he loves above all others, a woman he’s convinced was his in another lifetime but was lost to him. Now, he must find her, positive that his future lies with hers. But discovering that everything he knew about himself is a lie confounds the situation. When the dreams stop and strange things begin to happen to him, there’s a sense of urgency he can’t dismiss. Discovering that his mystery woman is none other than Marina Fraser, heir to the Fraser estate and the land on which the mysterious stones sit, comes as a shock, especially when she doesn’t recognize him and there is another, one who triggers powerful feels of hatred within him, vying for her attention, her love, and her land. How can he convince her that they are meant to be together when she doesn’t trust him or recall the love they once shared?

There’s a war coming, one they must fight united. The future is at stake, and time is running out. Each side must muster their forces for the final battle. Fueled by the hatred and greed in the world, evil has grown stronger than the gods anticipated. Three will fight, two will survive, but which two? The answer lies with the Standing Stones on the Fraser estate.

Will these two lost souls find true love, or will the demon-demigod’s rage and power keep them apart? Only as one can they prevent him from dooming the world to a living hell.

Each episode of the story has its own title. They are: The Awakening, The Homecoming, The Bonding, and The Reckoning. As she frequently does, my cover artist, Melinda de Ross has outdone heself with new covers for the series that fit my vision so well that it is as if she’s climbed inside my heart and soul to create them. The first book, The Awakening is almost ready and will go up for pre-sale in a few days. Watch for the Cover Reveal when it does, but here is the book description to tease your reading tastebuds.

Book Description for The Awakening, Book One of Listen to the Stones:

An only child raised by a secretive, single mother who forever mourned the loss of the man she loved and an Irish grandmother who espoused a strange blend of Christianity and paganism, Marina Fraser Robertson Mitchell has eschewed all beliefs in magic and fantasy that made up a great deal of her early life, but doing so hasn’t stopped the vicious nightmares about monsters and a deep water phobia that have haunted her for years.

As her thirtieth birthday approaches, changes are happening within her, alterations to her personality that lead to psychic abilities she neither wants nor understands. She’s convinced that she’s on the verge of madness, an insanity brought on by some form of physical illness or mental illness inherited from her maternal grandmother.

When her ex-husband sends over three boxes and a footlocker that were misplaced after her mother’s passing, Marina discovers that everything she knows about herself is a lie. While her mother’s letter gives her some explanations, it doesn’t explain her ESP, her sense that she doesn’t belong here, and her phantom lover. She has more questions than answers.

At the suggestion of her neighbor, a friendly, elderly woman with a cat named Rosie, Marina visits a psychic on her thirtieth birthday, but that only increases her confusion. The unusual woman greets her with the words, my lady, and exhorts her to accept herself for who and what she is. She warns her that the choices she makes from now on will determine who wins the final battle for the fate of the world. Shaken, Marina leaves, well aware of that those words are similar to those her grandmother spouted in her dying days.

As the nightmares she’s suffered so long continue, she searches for answers and a reprieve, an escape from a life in which she has lost everything that matters. Her prayers may be answered when she discovers that she has inherited property on the Isle of Lewis and Harris, the place where she suspects the standing stones from her dreams are located, stones that speak to her in the dead of night, and may hold the answer to her future.

But can she accept what she’s becoming? Does she dare return to the place where she was born, a place her mother fled in fear? Everything she knows about herself is a lie. Is the truth waiting for her there? She has a choice to make. Will she make the right one? Only time will tell.

Watch for scenes from the story over the next few weeks along with the Cover Reveal and the pre-order date for The Awakening.

Insecure Writer’s Support Group Blog Post for February 2025

Welcome to February 2025. Today is the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. I didn’t think things could get any worse for me, but they did, and not just for me, for the whole of humanity. Sadly, I’m convinced that things will get even worse before they get better. Trying to stay positive isn’t easy.

My online friends and readers are among the many things for which I’m grateful. You keep me going, you keep me striving, and most of all, you give me a chance to be creative and write.

February 5 question – Is there a story or book you’ve written you want to/wish you could go back and change?

I was fortunate to be able to do that when I got my rights back for many of my books originally published by established publishers and small ones. Today, I write what I want to write and have no one to please but myself. My stories are 100 percent mine. Would I be a bigger success if I were still with them? I’m not sure, but I know that no one owns my soul and that matters more to me now than ever.

Want to know what others think? Check here. https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Tuesday Tales: From the Word CHILD

Welcome to February 2025. I, for one am not sorry to say goodbye to January. This week is filled with bittersweet memories as it marks the one-year anniversary of my mother’s passing. I can take comfort in knowing she’s no longer in pain.

This week, our word prompt is CHILD. I’m continuing with And Justice For All, my Romance Suspense that is the third book in the Protecting the Innocent Series. Enjoy.

“Organised crime is heavily involved in all of it,” Harry continued. “They bring in or take out anything from alcohol to refugees, drugs like fentanyl to guns like AK47s, and they make big money doing it. Is it possible that Cliff got in someone’s way? His mother has family living on the Reserve. He spent a lot of his free time over there. Money talks.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, Harry. I’ve been on the job ten years. I’ve seen how smuggling has changed.”

“Then you know that drugs, guns, and illegal immigrants coming into Canada from the US are at an all-time high. We can hire more Border Security officers, but there are places where it’s almost impossible to stop the flow. I’m not saying your partner was involved; I’m just saying I need to be sure. He did spend a lot of his time over there.”

“You’re out of your ever-loving mind,” she ground out between clenched teeth, her eyes flashing fire. “Of course, Cliff spent time on the Reserve. His grandparents live there as do a number of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews. His family isn’t involved in anything illegal. Just the opposite. He’s got an aunt who’s a police officer with the tribal police, another who’s a nurse, and two uncles who were in the armed forces. His grandfather helped build the World Trade Center, and after it was destroyed, he went back to help construct One World Trade Center often referred to as the Freedom Tower. How dare you besmirch their good name like that. You’re just as bad as the people you claim wanted him dead.” She stood and paced, her hands fisted by her side. “As for the smuggling, that’s not new and probably dates back to prohibition days when rum runners ran booze across the river into New York State. In the eighties, the flow of booze changed directions along with the influx of cheap cigarettes. Isn’t that why the RCMP increased their presence here? Sure, we’ve had issues with sovereignty, and they did move the customs office off the Reserve, but as far as I can tell, Canadian Border Services have everything under control at the primary crossings. That being said, after that family of immigrants coming from the US to Canada died of hypothermia after falling into the river, we’ve all been watching the water traffic more closely.”

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Tuesday Tales: From the Word SILLY

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. It’s been a weird January, filled with unusual, record breaking weather. Hopefully, Mother Nature doesn’t have any more unpleasant surprises for us. I have my pre-surgery information session this week, so things are moving along as expected.

This week, our word prompt is SILLY. I’m continuing with And Justice For All, my latest Romance Suspense in the Protecting the Innocent series. Enjoy.

Harry nodded. He’d always admired her wit, but this time, facts and logic wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re right, but the fanatics don’t see it that way. They believe it’s a white man’s world and see themselves as the master race, the one God intended to rule, and to hell with anyone who deviates in any way from their beliefs. They misinterpret the Bible to support their cause and bastardize Christianity to prove their point. When it comes to women, well, they blame them for taking their jobs, or in the case of the involuntarily celibate, the incels, for denying them the sexual gratification they feel is their due. And it isn’t only the women they hate, it’s the guys who get the girls as well—the jocks, the actors, the damn letter carrier if he’s in the least bit attractive to women. The fact that many of the incels are just supercilious assholes with an axe to grind doesn’t seem to factor into it. And then, there are those who belong to the LGBTQ+ contingent. We have to consider they may be targets, too.”

Maggie shook her head, her chin thrust out in defiance.

“For God’s sake. People are shallow, I agree, and there is a lot of hate out there, but it can’t possibly have devolved to this level. Most of the silly threats are just bravado. The mouthpieces who spout them are schoolyard bullies. When someone stands up to them, they run away with their tails tucked between their legs. Have you found anything to support your inane theory?”

“It’s not a theory, Maggie. Some things have come to light that are disturbing, and I’ll share all that with you later, but for now, I need to know more about your partner.” He focused on her face. “Is it possible that Cliff stepped on the wrong pair of toes? This is a border community, and the multinational crossing is a busy one. But we also know that many … let’s call them goods … go back and forth across the border over what you might call indirect channels. They don’t call it the mighty St Lawrence for nothing. It’s impossible to monitor the entire river in this area twenty-four hours a day.” He put up his hand to stop her from interrupting him. “That’s always been the case, I get it, but it just isn’t a matter of traditional rights anymore.”

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

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Tuesday Tales: From the Word FRUIT

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Each week, we provide a scene from our current manuscripts based on a word prompt. This week, the word is FRUIT. I’m continuing with my romance/suspense And Justice For All.

“This is just the latest face of terrorism, Maggie, and it’s aimed at us. Neo-Nazis and homegrown militias aren’t limited to any particular country anymore. We have our share of nut jobs, and they’re better organized and more powerful than we expected. Thanks to the Internet, it’s easy to find like-minded people. We believe that there’s a place on the dark web where you can take out a hit on a police officer anywhere in the country, although most have been killed in the Toronto-Montreal-Ottawa triangle.”

“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “You have to be. There were three teams of detectives on that day as well as half a dozen patrol cars. We weren’t supposed to be anywhere near that alley. There’s no way they knew who would answer the call.”

Lieutenant Morris harrumphed. “All it takes is a police scanner, Sutton, and they’re easy enough to get. Since we don’t know what the motive was, it’s possible any police officer or detective would’ve done. It seems that the officers killed were either women or men from visible minorities. Two of the three involved in the assassinations who survived were white males, like him.” He pointed to Harry. “You’re the third survivor, and my money says that was unintentional. If the guy was racist or misogynist, any female might’ve been as good as another.”

Maggie squared her shoulders and glared at them, two bright spots of red appearing on her wan cheeks. The lieutenant had been much blunter than Harry liked, but the man was right.

“You’re implying Cliff was killed because his mother was Mohawk, and they would’ve killed me just because I’m a woman. That’s ridiculous. How are we supposed to stop something like that? I’ve never considered myself a feminist, but I’m not ready to hide away in the kitchen for the rest of my life cooking, baking, and chopping up fruit to make fruit salad just because some man thinks that’s where I belong. I’m damn sure a large number of women feel the same way. As for the racism, homophobia, and the rest of it, when you peel away the skin, we all have the same bones underneath.”

Harry nodded. He’d always admired her wit, but this time, facts and logic wouldn’t be enough. “You’re right, but the fanatics don’t see it that way.”

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Tuesday Tales: From the Word COLD

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Each week, a small group of dedicated authors share a scen from the work in progress and incorporate a word prompt into the scene. This week, the prompt is COLD. I’m working on the third book in the Protecting the Innocent series called And Justice For All. Enjoy.

Harry watched the color drain from Maggie’s cheeks. She was thinner than she’d been but every bit as beautiful and desirable. He’d tried to forget about her, tried to set aside the horrible mistake he’d made believing Marnie when she’d claimed Liam was his, but once he’d realized the truth … it hadn’t made him love his ‘son’ any less, but it had eliminated any love he’d ever had for the boy’s mother. When Liam got sick, the blood test proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the boy wasn’t his. He’d been shocked but not as badly as Marnie who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. He’d asked for the divorce, and she’d granted it, with the condition that he keep the unknown father’s kid and give her an insane settlement. It had almost bankrupted him, but he would do anything for Liam. The child might not be his blood, but he loved him all the same.

When he’d heard that Maggie had been shot, he’d gone crazy. He’d been on the tail of these bastards for three years, had trailed them to a site called Swine Eliminators on the dark web, but was no closer to identifying them now than he’d been the day Brent had been killed. For a price, you could get rid of wild swine in your town, district or what have you, and while they’d tried to set up a sting operation, somehow, the operators of Swine Eliminators hadn’t bitten. But, as Morris had said, this wasn’t the time to reminisce.

“Over the years, several police officers have been killed in the line of duty, but the frequency has increased substantially in the last couple of years.”

“How many?” her voice trembled.

“Nine that we’re sure of, but there could be others. I’m still looking at a couple of suspicious accidents. I believe the officers killed were specifically targeted. There’s a cold-blooded killer out there hunting police officers for a price, and he has to be stopped.”

She gasped, her beautiful blue eyes going wide.

“You can’t be serious. That’s insane.”

“Maggie, you know as well as I do that misogyny, racism, homophobia, and hatred are on the rise. There are people out there who would love to turn the clock back two or three hundred years, take away women’s rights, put the gays back into the closet, and don’t get me started on religious freedom—hell, they’d probably bring back slavery if they could.”

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

 Insecure Writer’s Support Group Blog Post for January 2025

Happy New Year. No one knows what 2025 is going to bring, but I’m opting to believe it will be no worse than 2024. The world is a mess on all levels, and I can’t bring myself to believe it’ll get worse. So, I’m choosing to be an optimist about it and looking forward to brighter days.

January 8 question – Describe someone you admired when you were a child. Did your opinion of that person change when you grew up?

It took me a long time to come up with an answer for this question because the truth is that I can’t think of a single person I admired as a child–not even sure I would’ve understood what the word meant. I loved my parents and grandparents and sought to please them, something I did as long as I had them in my life.

As a teenager, I admired my teachers, specifically Miss Columbus, my English teacher. She’d lost her love during the war and never married. She still wore her hair the way she had in the early forties and her clothes were all from that era. She was hunched over, with one hip higher than the other, but never acted as if she were in pain which, thanks to my own body, I know that she must’ve been.

It was as if she put her personal life on hold, and had moved out of it only long enough to impart her love of language on those of us who shared it in the classes she taught. I learned to embrace Shakespeare and poetry, understand that novelists could make profound and somewhat prophetic comments on society with books like Farenheit 451, Brave New World, 1984, and Animal Farm, and realize the power of the pen.

Ma’am was the one who made me embrace reading and writing. It was because of her that I went to university and studied English, and it was her faith in me all those years ago that gave me the courage to write my first book. She’s been gone many years, but my admiration for her never changed, and as a teacher, I did my best to emulate her and foster that same love of English in my students.

Looking forward to reading other answers. You can fins them here: https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Tuesday Tales: From the Word SUNNY

Welcome to the first Tuesday Tales of 2025. Our small band of authors come to you each week with a scene written to a specific word prompt. This week’s word is SUNNY. I’m continuing with my romance suspense novel that now has a name And Justice For All. It will be the third book in the Protecting the Innocent series. Enjoy.

Harry nodded. Despite his relaxed dress and longer hair, he was once more the man she recalled from her days when she’d taken a course on Terrorism and Hostage Negotiations at the provincial police academy. She’d just made detective, the youngest woman on the RMPF to do so and had been sent to learn everything she could before coming back and passing her knowledge on to the others. He was once more the take-charge man who’d awed her in the classroom, wowed her in bed, and then broken her heart with the news that his ex was pregnant, and he intended to do the right thing and marry her.

Maggie couldn’t fault him for doing the honorable thing, but damn, it had hurt then and still did. It was the reason she shied away from relationships. She would prefer to be alone for the rest of her life than suffer through that heartache again, and yet, here he was. The fact that the marriage had failed should’ve brought her some comfort, but it didn’t. Misery might like company, but as the daughter of divorced parents, she wouldn’t wish that kind of life on any child.

Harry sat down beside her, his chocolate eyes filled with sympathy. Where was the sunny disposition she recalled? He’d aged, and worry had carved furrows in his brow.

“The last thing I ever expected was to end up in charge of this task force, Maggie, especially when it hits so close to home. I lost my partner three years ago when we stopped to assist a car along the parkway in Ottawa. Brent took a bullet in the head. I was shot in the arm but managed to get behind the door. They just drove away without bothering to finish me off. We found the car torched twenty kilometers down the road.” There was no mistaking the pain and sincerity in his voice. “As soon as I got back to work, I expended all of my energy on trying to figure out what happened and why. It’s what I’ve been doing since then, and what I’ve found isn’t what I expected.”

Maggie’s hands trembled, and she clasped them tightly in her lap. He could be as dead as Cliff. She didn’t want her heart to melt and care, but it did.

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Here We Go Again. Hello 2025. Please Be Kind!

We made it! One more trip around the sun achieved, but it was a bumpy ride to say the least. Did I achieve everything that I’d set out to do? No, but I haven’t given up on anything yet, and I refuse to let the low points of 2024 influence how I’ll head into 2025.

After I read a post from a friend about her choice of a small word for the year 2025, I decided to select one of my own. My word for 2025 will be PERSEVERE. Persevere is defined as the continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition: the action or condition or an instance of persevering : steadfastness. I will persist in my goals, hang in there despite the obstacles, follow through with my intentions, and mostly, I will not surrender to despair, no matter how easy that might seem to be. I will push through the pain, knuckle down to work, and carry on reaching for stars.

I will also accept that there are things happening in this world over which I have no control. The world more closely resembles the mess it did in 1939 than ever. Wars abound, the economy is on the verge of imploding, and misogyny, racism, and all of the ugly faults humanity hid under a thin veneer of civility, those unleased during the pandemic, are alive and well. In the words of a song, “What the world needs now, is love, sweet love,” but it seems that its a commodity that’s sadly lacking all over.

Will it be easy to persevere? Probably not, but I learned a long time ago that nothing worth having comes easy. 2024 had some low points. I lost my mother in February and my arthritis took a huge leap for the worst in March, leaving me with the last nine months of the year pain ridden. I’ve had to make adjustments, including putting in two new bathrooms, and accept that I just can’t do it all. But there is light at the end of the tunnel since I’m scheduled for a right hip replacement in February or March, baring the inevitable delays because of emergencies.

But the year also brought highlights. My grandson started university with the intention of becoming a doctor. He has eight years ahead of him, but he’s smart and determined. My eldest grandaughter will finish her four-year program in pharmacy this spring, and continue with her master’s, while my next oldest grandaughter with start her apprenticeship as a HVAC technician and my youngest granddaughter will go away to school to be an electrical engineering technician. So much hope for the future. I just have to believe there will be one.

I was able to travel a bit. In January, we went on a Caribbean cruise and enjoyed some lovely heat–something I will truly miss this year. In early June, we went to New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island where we met up for a quick visit with old friends, and the Maggies, the Magdelene Islands in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and finished the trip with an overnight stay in Quebec City. In July, I made the move from a cane to a walker. We did get to the Highland Games in Maxville and then spent a few days in Kingston. The walker does make walking easier. A few weeks later, we traveled to Alexandria Bay, NY, and connected with friends we’d met the previous summer when they took us out on their boat. Unfortunately, getting in and out of a boat wasn’t on my can-do list, but I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to do so in the future. In late September, we went toLake Placid, NY, another of our favorite places to visit. The colors were gorgeous, the people friendly, and the food delicious and plentiful. Finally, after Christmas, we took our son home to Kingston again and spent a couple of nights in the newly renovated Marriot near City Hall. Once again, we visited our favorite stops although we had to make alterations, but I did make it. Given the political climate in the US, I’m not sure we’ll be visiting there in the near future, but Canada has lovely places to see.

In terms of my writing, I managed to publish three books this year–Love at the Pickleback, Guarding her Heart, and A Case of Mistaken Identity. I hit a roadblock with Listen to the Stones and will be revising it as I work on And Justice For All, a romance suspense to be released in June. The post-surgery recovery time will take its toll I’m sure, but I’m hoping to be able to do A to Z 2025. I plan to write a book that month and post scenes from it each day, another idea I stole from last year’s participants.

So, long story short. I will persevere. Wishing you all the best for 2025. It won’t be easy, but we’ll get through it.