Welcome to November 2023. Hard to believe another year is almost over, but it’s been a grim year for the world. Let’s hope that things start to turn around soon. It’s ironic when, in the midst of war, we’ll be remembering the soldiers who died in the past conflicts when there are new ones going on. All of the negativity in the world tends to stifle creativity and positive thoughts, making it hard to write romance of any genre.
November 1 question: November is National Novel Writing Month. Have you ever participated? If not, why not?
I have participated in NaNoWriMo three times, successfully completing my novels each time, and eventually publishing them. At the time that I did participate, I had no external factors preventing me from writing each day. Since it was early in my writing career, I enjoyed challenging myself and found the support available from others on my team encouraging.
That being said, I probably won’t be participating this year. I have a novel to complete by November 10, as well as some independent editing to do. In addition, my time is no longer all my own, and I have daughter as well as grandmother obligations that cut into my writing time. As well, Christmas is just around the corner and I have things to do for that. Then, it’ll be January and time to leave the snow and cold behind for a few days in the sun.
As I grow older, I find that everything takes longer to accomplish and yet I have fewer hours available with which to work. Who knew?
Good luck to anyone who does participate. May yourmuse be with you all the way.
Happy Halloween. I wish you all a safe and spooktacular time. This week, the authors involved in Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt SCARY. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, my contemporary romance with paranormal elements. Enjoy!
She huffed out a breath. Where was Ewen MacDonald? He’d promised to meet her plane personally, but the only people left here were a custodian mopping the wet floor near the door leading out to the tarmac and an agent at the Highland Airways desk. Her fellow passengers must all have been locals with cars or rides waiting for them, so where was hers? This wasn’t a place where people lounged around and socialized. Being alone here made her skin crawl. Sighing, she found a place to sit and wait. What else could she do?
Fifteen minutes later, the Highland Airways representative closed the kiosk, put on his coat, and headed out into the rain. The janitor was nowhere in sight. She swallowed uncomfortably. This was far from the welcome she’d expected.
The wind whistled and howled through chinks in the window frames. When a door slammed in the distance, she jumped, only slightly reassured when the janitor returned to empty the trash bin before disappearing once more. He hadn’t even acknowledged her presence—no friendly smile, no hello, not even a what the hell are you doing here?
Suddenly, the lights went out, the only brightness coming from emergency lamps. The desolate airport took on a scary disposition. Power failure or deliberate attempt to frighten her? Once again, she was reminded that not everyone might be happy to have her home.
Hoping there hadn’t been an accident, she pulled out her phone and dialed MacDonald’s office number.
“MacDonald and MacPhee Solicitors, how may I help you?”
Marina exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Fiona would know what to do.
“Fiona, it’s Marina Fraser.”
“Hello, Ms. Fraser,” the woman’s voice was filled with warmth and welcome. “Are you anxious for the last leg of your trip home?”
“Actually, that’s what I’m calling about. I’m here and Mr. MacDonald isn’t.”
“Here? Here in Stornoway?”
The disbelief in the woman’s voice didn’t bode well. After the encounter with the man at the airport, it had been one glitch after another. Was it Fate telling her she had no damn business here?
“Yes. My flight landed on schedule thirty minutes ago.” She tried to dampen the frustration in her voice.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. We have a word prompt again. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, my contemporary romance with paranormal elements. Enjoy.
Marina, hair quickly getting plastered to her head, wrapped her raincoat tightly around her, pressing her handbag to her side as she followed her fellow passengers down the stairs and along the tarmac to the terminal doors, wishing the airport had been large enough to have a covered walkway or ramp into the terminal. Unlike the weather in Inverness earlier, the sun had vanished, replaced by vicious wind and a bone-chilling rain that didn’t exactly scream “Welcome home.”
Determined not to let a little water cloud her spirits, she hurried inside the airport terminal. She followed the signs to the baggage claim area. Not having to go through customs saved time and within twenty minutes of landing, she’d loaded all of her bags onto a luggage cart, grateful to see they’d all arrived with her. That had to be a good sign.
Pushing the luggage cart ahead of her, she went through the automatic doors into the arrivals area and stopped cold. Where was everyone? She’d only made one stop after getting off the plane, a quick trip to the lavatory before going to collect her luggage, but of the fifty or so people who’d been on her flight, she was the only one left.
The Stornoway airport was a far cry from the larger ones she’d seen on her journey here. There were no bars and restaurants, no large waiting areas, but the place was clean.
She sighed. At least she hadn’t been followed here. There was no sign of the man from the airport, the one she was sure she’d seen again in Inverness.
Glancing around, she took in the posters depicting sheep on the moors, a castle, the harbor, and of course the Standing Stones of Callanais, this one taken at night with the Aurora Borealis in the background. There were advertisements for stores selling Harris tweed, and even one noting that all overseas Christmas cards had to be mailed by November 30 to ensure delivery before Christmas.
Christmas. With the rush to get here, she hadn’t even thought about that holiday. She would miss Thanksgiving in two weeks and Halloween at the end of the month of October. Did children Trick or Treat here. Considering where the bed and breakfast was located, it was unlikely that she would have children come to the door even if they did. As for Christmas, it would be strange to celebrate without snow, but the odds were that she would be doing so alone.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. We’re mid-way through October. Days are shorter and there’s a definite nip in the air. This week, I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. This is picture week, so we’re limited to 300 words.
Here’s the picture I chose.
“Angus gave Eileen a sum of money and sent her back to Canada, making her promise never to contact anyone nor to come back. As far as I know, she was as good as her word. It broke my Maeve’s heart. She and Eileen were friends. Angus locked up the croft they’d lived in, leased his own, and moved into the Hall. I can tell you Maeve is looking forward to seeing her again as am I. We just hope she’ll bear us no ill will.”
It was obvious the old man wanted to talk. Maybe it was the magic of the stones making him so loquacious.
“So, she accepted his terms and is coming back.”
“Oh tha,” he reverted to Gaelic once more. “She’ll be here on September 30. I’ve got to go to Tarbet to see about a ram for the ewes. Brian Lennox, the Hall’s handyman, will be coming with me. We’ll be gone the day, more or less, but we’ll be back before she arrives. Brian’s got all the appliances running, but he hasn’t turned on the heat. The light bulbs for the new fixtures arrived a while ago with the groceries. He’ll have plenty of time to put them into place before she gets here. We don’t want her to spend her first night in the cold and dark. We want her to stay here where she belongs. I spent the summer refinishing the furniture from Eileen and Hugh’s cottage and moving it into the apartment for her. All sunshine and light it is now, complete with the crockery reproductions her mother learned to make here. The stones want her to stay. As the rightful heir, she’s connected to them just as you are. Angus never understood that. They didn’t speak to him.”
Before Jerome could ask him what he meant, the dog barked.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
The closest I come to writing horror is my paranormal detective series, The Punishers. The characters are all fantasy creatures, living in New Orleans and working to enforce the law with both the living and the dead–they just tend to focus on the dead.
In The Tigress,
Paranormal Detective Ellie Taggart, a rakshasa capable of assuming the shape of a tigress, has always worked alone, searching for those responsible for her mother’s murder. When an investigation results in the death of a close friend and vampire, she’s forced to partner with handsome and mysterious peredhil, Steve Cassidy. Like her, the half-human, half-elf uses his special talents to fight evil wherever it exists. Rogue vampires, shapeshifters, zombies, practitioners of black magic, poltergeists, ghosts—none of them can beat him. That is until someone or something no longer plays by the rules. There’s a new villain in New Orleans, one who threatens both the humans and non-humans who make the city home. Is the enemy Draug, the wizard who murdered Ellie’s mother centuries ago? Is it someone from Steve’s shrouded past intent on revenge? Or are they facing a new enemy with an agenda all his or her own? As the tigress and her partner search for answers, trying to prevent the bodies from piling up, they have to manage conflicting emotions and desires that threaten to overwhelm them. Can two such different creatures of the light join forces to defeat the darkness, or will the powers of evil triumph?
In The Guardian
The Punishers are at it again in The Guardian, the second book in the series. The past can always come back to haunt you. After defeating the demon and casting him back into the abyss, Steve Cassidy and Ellie Taggart, the Tigress, expect a break, but evil never rests. Knud, a dark-elf and an immortal, has escaped from his prison in Niflheim, intent on exacting his revenge against all of those who sent him there, including Steve. To make matters worse, Knud has teamed up with both supernatural and human criminals—a Voodoo priest and magician with an axe to grind against the city’s preternatural population, and a paramilitary group with an agenda all their own. With a hurricane on the horizon, the lives of ten females and one male hang in the balance. With the help of a Vodun priestess, the head of the city’s Wicca coven, a selkie, merfolk, shapeshifters, and vampires, Steve, Ellie, Mike, and Chelsea, the Punishers, have 72 hours to find the missing yacht and rescue those aboard. Because if they don’t, by October 31st, all hell will break loose.
The Punishers are available on Amazon and free to read in Kindle Unlimited. Why not dive into the New Orleans Underworld and start Book One today.
Mystic Adventures is a series of books in the mild paranormal genre which include magic and reincarnation. By no means are they horror novels for those true aficionados out there. They have more Outlander in them than Carrie, Cujo, or Misery.
The first two books in the series are based on Native American myths.
Hello Again:
Based on a Sioux myth, the past and the present collide when a shaman, a green-eyed wolf, and a ghost decide it’s time to end a millennia old curse.
For Charley Winters love means loss and pain. She’s spent the last five years struggling with her grief. Existing, not living, dreaming of the man she lost. Drawn to Saskatchewan, she travels west take the job she’s always wanted, a Transportation Technology teacher in a high school. This is her chance to prove that a female mechanic can do the job as well as a male one, but Mother Nature has a different idea as a string of vicious tornadoes work their way through the area.
Since his near-death experience, Sergeant Bill Murdock of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police has dreamed of a gorgeous woman, the fantasies so real that they leave him breathless. He’s convinced she needs him as much as he needs her, but he has no idea where to find her. When he’s called to Fort Qu’Appelle to get a statement from the Nakoda chief about the problems they’ve been having with bikers, the last thing he expects is to rescue the woman of his dreams.
But getting her to accept him may not be as easy as he hopes. Can Charlie set aside her memories, release the man she loved, and find happiness in the arms of another?
Echoes of the Past
Native American stories don’t always take place in the past, but the past affects the present, and sometimes the future as well.
Born Mohawk, raised white, forensic pathologist, Michelle Thomas is trapped between two worlds—this one and the spirit world where the ghosts of those who’ve drowned speak to her. Haunted by crippling nightmares of her own drowning death and erotic dreams of a phantom lover, she strives to make sense of her life. When two suspicious deaths occur at the Lake of the Mountain Resort, she’s sent to investigate. She’ll face the greatest challenge of her career when her past and her present collide. One of these men is her future, but which one—the rich and powerful Mayor Ron Davies, or Tony Steele, the hydrology professor who may be responsible for his students’ deaths?
Charged by the spirits of her Mohawk ancestors to atone for her previous sins by protecting Lake of the Gods, can Michelle solve the murders, save the sacred waters, and fulfil her destiny?
Atonement
Although she was raised in an alleged haunted house by a Wiccan priestess, Anca Cole, a bartender with a degree in psychology, refuses to believe in magic, demons, ghosts, curses, or anything remotely supernatural. There’s a logical explanation for everything. When her aunt has an accident, Anca rushes back to Salem, arriving home to realize that things aren’t what she expected. The family ghost exists and insists it’s time for Anca to accept and fulfill her destiny. With help from Dr. Walt Tanner, the man who broke her heart, a couple of unusual cats, and an ancient parrot, Anca sets out to discover the truth about Cole Cottage and find the key to saving the future. This fight may have started more than three hundred and fifty years ago, but the war ends now. Unless she and Walt can find what was lost, evil will prevail and destroy any chance they may have at a future together. Can their love overcome centuries of hatred, jealousy, envy, and greed, or will they be doomed to stay apart forever?
So if you’re looking for some mild shivers and a different kind of paranormal tale, why not check these out? They are all available on Amazon and free to read with your Kindle Unlimited Membership. Why not check out Book One today?
Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day in Canada. I have so much to be grateful for–my health, my family, and you, my friends and fans. Thank you for being part of my life. This week, our word is CURLY. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy!
Grabbing her jacket from the closet and her purse, she locked the door and headed to the elevator once more.
She was halfway across the lobby when she saw that one of the two men she’d seen earlier had left. The one remaining, the man with the dark, curly hair turned to get the bartender’s attention. Marina froze. In profile, she could’ve sworn he was the same bearded man she’d seen at Heathrow airport, the one who’d claimed to know her, the one who’d been surprised to see her there, the one who’d made a grab for her. Fear pooled in her stomach as the idea that someone might not be happy she was coming to claim her inheritance filled her once more.
If this was the same man, how had he followed her here?
Gasping, she realized what had happened. He’d seen her get into Liam’s car at the airport. Hadn’t she noticed him at the taxi stand? He could’ve noted the license plate number and followed her to the hotel in London. He’d probably watched for a chance to get her alone, but Liam had never left her side.
He had to have followed her here to Inverness. Since most of the economy fare passengers had loaded from the rear of the plane, she hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen her.
He must’ve seen Neev pick her up and bring her here. Had he been waiting for her to return? Perhaps going out alone so close to dark wasn’t a good thing. Hadn’t Lenore quoted some statistics about women traveling alone disappearing? Even Aunt Flo had mentioned something similar.
Retracing her steps, she took the elevator to the floor below hers in case he was watching and walked up the last flight to her room. Once inside, she double-locked the door, and as an added precaution, shoved her two suitcases and a chair against it. No one was getting in there tonight, and since the windows didn’t open, she was as safe as she could be.
If she saw the man in the morning, she would tell Neev and they could go to the police. In the meantime, she would stay right where she was. It was a good thing she’d had a big afternoon tea because nothing would get her to open that door for anyone tonight.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
This month, our question is one that I find hard to answer,
October 4 question: The topic of AI writing has been heavily debated across the world. According to various sources, generative AI will assist writers, not replace them. What are your thoughts?
Why do I find it hard to answer? I suppose it’s a combination of things. I grew up in a time where we dreamed of robots doing the things we hated, like cleaning the house, doing the laundry. There was Rosie on the Jetsons. Later on, there was R2D2 and C3PO. But then there was HAL in 2001, a Space Odyssey.
Sadly, we did get robots to do the things we used to do, but that cost us thousands of jobs. And then, we had Smartphones that stole hours from our lives. I’ve seen people sitting together, silently playing on their phones rather than engaging in meaningful conversation, and mothers propping up an iPad to entertain their toddlers rather than playing with them.
Recently, I’ve had a friend create a whole new series of covers for her books with an AI app. Will cover designers and models be next on the chopping block?
I will admit that I have not tried to write using AI, so I really don’t know how it works. A lot of work and time goes into each of my books. I research, write, edit, research some more, and repeat. I put my heart and soul into every story. I add a piece of myself and my life into them, too. How is an AI supposed to do that? Good grief! I’ve tried writing my books by dictating them and that was another disaster. Don’t even get me started on Grammar programs.
So, to answer the question, I can’t see how it can replace a writer; in fact i don’t even see how it will help. What it may do is flood the market with a whole bunch of cookie cutter books, but honestly, there are enough of those out there as it is.
Welcome to October and this week’s Tuesday Tales. In my part of the world, the trees had donned their majestic colours. Nights are cool, days are comfortable but shorter, and we all know winter is just around the corner. This week our word prompt is ICY. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.
After a twenty-six-hour flight that included a two-hour layover in Doha, Qatar, his senses were slow, dazed, not reacting fast enough, but one thing nagged at him. Why would the stones choose someone for him with no connection to them? Could she have Scottish ancestors? It was possible. The world was a much smaller place these days. Take the heir for instance. She’d been born on the Isle of Lewis but had left it as a child. This woman could’ve done the same. Only the stones knew the truth.
He watched her conversation with the agent and saw her pull out additional documents, but he was too far away to see what they were or hear what she was saying.
When the agent stamped her passport, she rushed off toward the baggage claim. He would catch up with her there. How hard could it be to find a woman wearing an orange shirt with her hair in a ponytail?
He hurried to get to the window and handed over his UK passport.
“Welcome back, Mr. Gillies. Where were you?” she asked.
“New Zealand.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Business. I’m an archeologist. I was working on a Māori dig.”
He didn’t want to prolong this by explaining about the filming which he knew from experience generated a lot of questions. Still, she wouldn’t let him go until she was satisfied. After answering a few more of her queries, she stamped his passport.
“Sounds fascinating. Have a good day.”
“Thank you, and you as well.”
Grateful that she’d been so quick, he hurried toward the baggage pickup area and looked around for a woman in an orange sweatshirt and a ponytail. Seeing one, he hurried over to the carousel, noting that it was a flight from New York. American. He’d been right. He grabbed the woman’s shoulder and turned her to face him.
The stranger’s icy eyes froze him in place.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once more. “I thought you were someone else.”
He hurried away before she called security on him. Looking around the crowded room, his spirit plummeted. There wasn’t another orange sweatshirt anywhere.
It was true that he was tired, but he couldn’t have imagined her, could he? As a rule, he didn’t daydream, but given the way he felt, anything was possible. Sighing, he walked over to the carousel currently displaying the bags from his flight.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Here we are, the last week of September 2023. I can’t get over how quickly the seasons change. It’s officially fall, and I’m still waiting for summer. This week, our Tuesday Tales post features the word prompt, SWEET. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.
Thank goodness Fiona had messaged that a driver would meet her here and take her to the hotel. With two large bags, a carry-on, and her messenger bag, it would be difficult just to get through the airport let alone find a shuttle.
It had been cool on the plane, so wearing a sweatshirt had made sense, and she’d donned the I Love Pumpkin Spice shirt Lenore had given her as a going-away present. In Canada, come the first of September, there was pumpkin spice everywhere—coffee shops, bakeries, candle shops, and bars, got in on the scent of fall. Since she loved the sweet smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger, it was a match made in heaven, and pumpkin spice martinis were yummy.
Following the other passengers, she made her way to Immigration. The lines were slow and crowded with people from different nationalities, their voices blending into a hum, making it hard to understand what anyone was saying.
The line in front of her crawled forward. Directly before her, a family of four, most likely from India given their attire, included a toddler who demanded to be put down and a father equally determined not to do so. Beside him, an exhausted woman held the hand of a boy who seemed reluctant to move when his mother did. Twice, she’d had to stop abruptly when he’d balked. Behind her, the heavily bearded man in an Australian bush hat had managed to keep his distance from her, despite being propelled by the crowd following him. She heaved a sigh of relief when the family moved forward only to gasp in pain when the stranger stepped on her heel.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you were with them.”
Turning, she shook her head. “No. I’m not. It’s okay. I’m amazed it hasn’t happened before. This place is a bit of a zoo. No harm done.”
He stared at her, his eyes lighting up in surprise and recognition. “You. Here. How is it possible?” He reached for her but she stepped away.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, intimidated by the stranger’s attempt to touch her. “I’m sure we’ve never met. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” She shrugged. “They say we all have a twin someplace.”
Before he could answer, the customs agent called, “Next.”
Marina escaped from his earnest gaze as quickly as she could and presented her passport.
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Living the Dream 