Where it all Began by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about Nancy's books please click on the cover above.

Laurel's Quest was originally published by a now defunct Canadian publishing house in  2010. It was re-published in 2014 by BWL Publishing Inc. updated as Laurel's Quest with a new cover and some new text. It is my first published novel and is very dear to my heart. Laurel's Quest is currently being offered for free (as an ebook) at Amazon.com and .ca. I am thrilled to offer readers the chance to step into the magical world that exists just a step sideways from the World as We Know It. A world filled with magic and wonder and a few scary moments as well. Cornish Piskies, selkies, Morgrawr the sea monster along with a cast of intrepid friends who follow the clues to solve a riddle that may save a life. The story starts in southern Alberta but soon moves to Cornwall UK. Set against the beautiful and rugged country of the southwest Laurel's search takes her along the Michael and Mary earth energy lines that cross the country from Carn les Boels, an old hill fort in Cornwall, to East Anglia. Laurel's journey takes her Glastonbury Tor not once but twice before she comes face to face with Gwyn ap Nudd beneath the Tor in the crystal caves where Arthur is rumoured to be sleeping. Laurel's Quest is the first book in the Cornwall Adventures, A Step Beyond is the second and here we pick up one of the secondary character's story. Gort is one of Laurel's gang of seekers and in the second books follows his own journey of coming of age. The third book is Go Gently where we finally meet Laurel's Gramma Bella whose letters figure in Laurel's Quest. We get to know Laurel's father Colt better in Go Gently and understand better why his estranged from his mother, Laurel's beloved Gramma Bella. 

I am currently working on Laurel's Choice which is a stand alone book, but you can be sure the usual suspects will show up. Gramma Bella, Vear Du the selkie, her group of friends from her quest and there might even be a wedding in the future...you just never know. Below is an excerpt from Laurel's Quest.

This is where Laurel's get the first clue from the 'Obby 'Orse in Padstow on May Day. If you want to learn more about this age old tradition just google it. It's fascinating stuff. 

From Chapter Six  The 'Obby 'Orse Clue  Laurel's Quest Copyright 2015

 

“How am I going to know where to look for the clue once we get to Padstow?” Laurel frowned.

“Did the Lady give any indication where you would find the clue?” Aisling asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Think harder,” Coll growled.

“I am.”

“What did she say again? I don’t remember exactly,” Gort broke in quietly.

“She just said I would get the first clue on May Day in Padstow. She talked about the filly that wasn’t born yet and holding death in my hand.”

“So do we have to find a pregnant mare somewhere in Padstow? That’ll be easy,” Coll snorted.

“Quit being so negative,” Aisling admonished Coll. “I don’t think we’ll have to look too far. I think the clue will find us.”

“So we just go to Padstow, join in the festival, and wait and see what happens?” Gort asked.

“I think that’s best.” Aisling nodded.

“What about what I think?” Laurel broke in.

Coll sighed. “What do you think we should do, then?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I should have a plan of some kind.” Her frustration was plain in her tone.

“Let’s just wait and see. Maybe we’ll come up with something before we get there,” Aisling said.

The bright, clear May Day morning found their small group looking for a parking spot in Padstow. The town was crowded with tourists and locals, all vying for the best place to see the festivities. Those who weren’t actively involved in the festivities jostled for space on the edges of the narrow streets. Soon the ‘Oss would start his journey. Laurel was no closer to figuring out how to find the clue than she had been the night they talked about it in Emily’s parlor. She just hoped with all her heart she would recognize the clue when it was in front of her.

Sarie’s friend emerged through her back gate just as they parked in the tiny spot behind her cottage. Aisling greeted her Aunt Jane and introduced Laurel. The woman led them down a narrow back alley to emerge onto the main thoroughfare. The voice of the crowd swelled to a new level as the ‘Obby ‘Oss began to make his way through the narrow street. The girls craned their necks trying to catch their first glimpse of the ‘Obby ‘Oss in his bizarre costume.

The crowd hemmed them in. Sarie held tight to Laurel’s hand as the crowd vibrated with excitement as the ‘Obby ‘Oss drew near. She lifted herself up on her tiptoes as high as she could in order to catch a glimpse of the alien-looking creature with its large hoop depicting the head of a horse, and a scraggy tail hanging from the rear of it.

The traditional song rang high and loud as thousands of voices joined in celebration:

“Unite and Unite. Let us all unite. For summer is a cummin today, and wither we are going, we will all unite, in the merry morning of May.”

Periodically the ‘Obby ‘Oss lunged into the crowd and captured a young woman, prompting good-natured jesting and howls of laughter. At intervals the ‘Obby ‘Oss would falter, stagger and fall to the street where he lay motionless for a moment, when this happened the joyous song changed to a sad dirge. As soon as the ‘Obby ‘Oss rose and danced again, the song spun back to its joyous celebration. Laurel didn’t know where to look first; this was all so different than anything she ever experienced. Even Stampede in Calgary wasn’t this crazy. The song filled the air and rose from the stones of the street under her feet. It vibrated in her bones and eardrums.

There was a sudden break in the crowd; the ‘Obby ‘Oss was right in front of them. She watched entranced, as the ‘Oss made an exaggerated grab for Sarie, who waved him off, laughing. The strange hooped face of the creature paused, his painted eyes looked straight at her and the sound of the celebrations faded. It seemed only Laurel and the strange beast existed in a world somehow one step sideways from the world she knew. She couldn’t even feel Sarie’s hand on hers, and the words of the song, though faint still echoed in her ears.

The ‘Obby ‘Oss regarded her for a long minute before a voice echoed in her head. It was both soft and deep, young and old, gentle and intimidating, all at once and yet none of them at all. A part of her was afraid, but another part was braver than she would ever have imagined and allowed her to listen to the message.

 “Greetings, child who searches for answers. On this May Day, the ‘Obby ‘Oss grants you a boon. Neither husband nor child will I give you, but the answer to part of the mystery you seek to achieve your heart’s desire.”

Laurel started as the voice took on a deeper tone; she could hear the ringing of great brass bells underlying it as if they rung from the depths of the ocean.

“Find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians. You must remember…to gain entrance, you and your companions must be found worthy, and so I tell you that it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman for the Selkie guardian to admit you.”

“Thank you,” Laurel whispered.

Suddenly, the world came back into focus. Although Laurel felt like a lot of time had passed, it seemed only a tiny second elapsed to all those around her. Sarie was still waving the ‘Obby ‘Oss away and giggling like a girl.

“Go on with you, I’m too old, and she’s too young.”

The ‘Obby ‘Oss shook his hooped head at Sarie and bowed before he continued on his way. The May Song rose high and strong over the throng and slowed to the awful dirge as the ‘Oss stumbled and fell once more.

“Why does he do that?”

Sarie smiled. “Don’t let it bother you, girl. It symbolizes the death of winter and the birth of the spring. If winter doesn’t come, the summer never ends, and there can be no spring. It also mirrors mankind’s cycle of life: we are born, we die, but we live on in our children and our children’s children.”

 Laurel doubted if her mom was comforted by the thought of her daughter going on without her.

“Come on you lot, let’s go find some market stalls and some goodies to stuff your gobs with,” Sarie invited.

They shouted their agreement. The ‘Obby ‘Oss leaped to his feet again and cavorted down the street out of sight, though his song continued to echo in the air.

As the group made their way to the market stalls, Coll dropped back. “What happened back there? You looked all mazed for a minute, like you could see something the rest of us couldn’t.”

“The ‘Obby ‘Oss spoke to me,” she said.

“It never,” Coll exclaimed. “It’s not supposed to speak to anyone.”

“I don’t think it was the man inside the costume who talked to me. It sounded deep, like it was inside my head, but faraway at the same time. It was spooky.”

“Bloody Hell,” Coll exclaimed loudly.

“You mind your tongue, young man!” Sarie said over her shoulder. “You’ll have your Gramma down my throat for allowing you to behave like a ruffian.”  Jane and Emily laughed at her words.

“Sorry, Sarie,” Coll said, and then spoke in a quieter voice. “What did it say? Why couldn’t the rest of us hear it?”

“I don’t know why you couldn’t. I wish you were all there with me. It was creepy,”

“What do you mean there with you; you didn’t go anywhere. I was still hanging on to you and so was Sarie.” Coll looked confused.

“It was weird,” she paused, trying to find a way to describe it, “as if I took a step sideways or something. Like I was apart from everything somehow. All the noise faded, I couldn’t feel you or Sarie. All I could see was the painted face of the ‘Obby ‘Oss and hear that voice. But I could still hear the May Song faintly, all I could make out was unite, unite. It was freaking weird.”

“What did it say?” Coll asked impatiently. “Who would have guessed the ’Obby ‘Oss would talk to you!”

“Weird stuff, all in riddles. You know those stories your Gramma and Sarie tell at night in front of the fire where the faeries or piskies or whatever give the person the information they need, but they never tell it right out. The people in the story have to figure it out for themselves if they want to finish their quest or get out of the faery hill, or whatever.”

Coll danced a jig of delight on the cobbled street. “This is great, isn’t it just? We get to go questing like King Arthur’s knights. Gort’s going to be beside himself.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy, or making it up?”

“Naw, I believe you. We knew you were going to get a message here. You even had that faery struck look on your face for a moment when the ‘Oss stopped in front of you. You know, the one Sarie always makes as she describes how the person in the story would look.” Coll stopped talking long enough to make sure Sarie and the others weren’t too far ahead. “What did the bloody thing say,” he asked plaintively.

Laurel giggled at his tone. “Something about lizard tails and paths.” She trailed off and her eyes unfocused for a second. “In order to find the answer to my heart’s desire, I have to find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians.” She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea what it means.”

“Anything else?” Coll vibrated with excitement.

“There was something about gaining entrance to the secret caverns. Me and my companions have to be acceptable, I think he said ‘worthy,’ so the Selkie guardian will admit us. What the heck is a Selkie?” she asked crossly. “How am I supposed to figure this out when I don’t even know what the stupid things are?”

“That’s why you have companions. A Selkie is some magic kind of seal man.” Coll grinned. “Do you remember anything else?”

Laurel pushed aside her resentment and frustration at the riddles to try to remember the last piece of the riddle.

“He said it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman to gain entrance.” She kicked at piece of litter. “I haven’t the slightest idea what that means either.”

Coll grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd. They could just see the top of Sarie’s head in front of them.

“Hurry up, we don’t want to get lost,” Coll said over his shoulder and then in a louder voice, “Sarie, Gramma, wait for us!”

Panting slightly, they caught up with their group just at the edge of the market stalls. Aisling and Gort looked at them questioningly; Coll winked at them.

“Just wait ‘til you hear the story we have to tell you later when we’re by ownselves.” Coll grinned at Gort. “You’re going to either love this, or think we’re bleedin’ kitey.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything illegal.” Gort muttered. 

Cover Reveal for Laurel's Choice by Nancy M Bell

 

To see where Laurel's story begins please click on the cover.

Laurel's Choice ties up some loose ends that have threaded through the Laurel stories that have come before. Starting with The Cornwall Adventures: Laurel's Quest, A Step Sideways and Go Gently which took place mostly in Cornwall, UK. Then her story continued in The Alberta Adventures: Wild Horse Rescue, Dead Dogs Talk and Chance's Way. Laurel's Choice can stand alone on its own merits, but throughout the first 6 books Laurel has grown from a young teen into a young woman and there are two prominent men in her life, Coll Hazel one of the friends she meets in Laurel's Quest and who she has had a long distance relationship with ever since and Chance Cullen, rodeo cowboy and bull rider. 

Laurel returns to Cornwall to pursue a career in the horse industry, she's been accepted as a working student by Suzy Wish an Olympic Three Day Event competitor and coach. 

The Cornwall Adventures series delved into the magic and wonder that abounds in Cornwall while The Alberta Adventures became more of a rescue series, first the wild horses, then dogs from the dog fighting rings and finally, Chance working on saving himself.

In Laurel's Choice, which combines elements from both series, Laurel is back in Cornwall and so of course there will be magic and mythical creatures. Gramma Bella and Vear Du will be sure to show up at some point, not to mention Gwin Scawen and perhaps a friendly sea monster or two.

Horses and eventing will take a prominent place in the story, helping to keep things moving along. So if you love horses and magic with a bit of young love thrown in, watch for Laurel's Choice coming in September of 2023.

Thanks to everyone who has followed Laurel's journey so far. She and I are most grateful for your support. 

Until next month, stay well, stay happy. Enjoy the spring and the newly minted leaves and blooming flowers.    

First Times by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy's books click on the cover above.

First times and last times. If we knew we were going to do something for the last time, would we do anything differently? 

As I approach my 65th birthday- dear heavens how did I ever get that old?-  I start to remember all the firsts in my life. 

I remember the  first time I rode a horse a Bowmanville Zoo. I was very young, but I can still remember the feel of the horse moving under me, and see the sunlight through the trees on the brown earth between his ears. I remember the last time I rode. It was in 2006, a year to the day after my accident that effectively ended my riding career. It felt good and it felt right and I never thought it would be the last time I threw a leg over a horse. Actually, that day it was more like I crawled unto her back, but that's a moot point. Had I known it was the last time, would I have put up with the pain and ridden her longer, held onto that joy. Held unto that magical connection between horse and rider when it seems like I see through her eyes and we think together. 

I don't know. Perhaps some day I will have the joy of sitting on a horse again, I hold onto that thought, it helps balance me and keep my sane. 

I think every girl remembers her first kiss. That special step from childhood into young adulthood, although we don't realize it at the time. I remember the date of course. August 15th, 1970. It was the summer I'd just graduated from grade school and looking back it was the last summer of my childhood. We had a cottage on Davis Lake in Haliburton County in Ontario. My heart still goes there in memory to visit. There were four of us girls, my sister, Elaine my friend, and Abby who worked at the little store at the end of the lake. And of course there were four boys. Local brothers and their cousin who lived on the Buller Road. Doug was my first boyfriend, and the first boy I ever kissed. At the top of our cottage driveway, under the maples in the magic darkness that lies under the canopy of trees. I took the first step into womanhood, although that transition was still years away. I guess a corner of every girl's heart will always hold a special place for that boy who gave her that first kiss.

For me,  my first horse was a huge milestone in my life. Horses are, and always have been a huge part of who I am. Brandy was my first and even knowing how and when it would end, I wouldn't change a single thing. He was my rock and my safe place as I manouevered through the uncertain waters of being a teenager in the 1970's. 

So many firsts, and so many last times. The last time I spoke to my dad, the night before he died. The last time I saw his face. It's been 13 years and it still brings tears to my eyes. 

Life is a  journey, full of firsts and lasts, I guess the best we can do is ride the joy of the peaks and persevere through the valleys of uncertainty. November always seems to be a month of introspection for me. This year is no different. On November 11 I think of my grandfather who lived with us when I was young. Shaving and picking shrapnel out of his face and neck years after the war was ended. He taught me so much and most of all to honour all life. When I was really young he showed my how to catch a bee in a kleenex and set if free when it was trapped on the window pane frantically trying to get out. That memory has stuck with me my whole life.

Wishing you joy and peace as the days draw in and we wait to turn our faces to the light at Winter Solstice. The magic mid-winter night when the after the longest night that light pushes back the dark once more.

Until next month, be well, be happy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

 

Chance's Way Releases in September 2021 by Nancy M Bell

 

To find more of Nancy's books click on the cover. 

I'm excited to announce that Chance's Way is releasing in September of 2021. This book three of the Alberta Adventures series. This series turned out to be a series about rescues. In book one, Wild Horse Rescue, Laurel and friends rescue some wild horses, in book two, Dead Dogs Talk, Laurel and friends work to rescue some dogs from a dog fighting ring. Book three turned out to be something a bit different. Fans of the series will be familiar with bad boy Chance Cullen. He turned a bit of a corner in Dead Dogs Talk, in book three Chance's Way he is struggling to come to terms with his past choices and see if he can find a better way to go forward. He is still hopelessly in love with Laurel Rowan but knows she won't have anything to do with him unless he can turn his life around. And not to mention that she has a long distance relationship going with Coll Hazel, who lives in Cornwall UK. 

Chance's Way is the story of Chance's search for his truth, learning about who he is and who he wants to become. He is supported by Laurel's dad, Colt Rowan, who has had his own issues with his parents, so he can sympathize with Chance's problems with his n'er do well father and hysterical mother.

This last book in the series wasn't meant to be about Chance's coming of age, but that's how it evolved. 

There's a good mix of rodeo and ranch life mixed into the story and those who live that life will relate to the events that unfold. Concussion and injury are part and parcel of the rodeo way of life. The dangers of concussion and repeated trauma are only starting to be addressed. The tragic loss of Ty Pozzobon in 2017 was a huge wake up call to the rodeo community with regards to the issue of brain related injuries in much the same way as Lane Frost's death at Cheyenne in 1989 brought about the use of flak jackets for bull riders. I touch briefly on these issues in Chance's Way. 

I hope you enjoy Chance's journey. Below are some scenes from life on the Canadian prairies where the Alberta Adventures take place.

Till next month, stay well, stay happy.

Is it Spring yet in Alberta, Canada? by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about Nancy's books please click on the cover above.

This is the brand new cover for the last book in The Alberta Adventures series. I really love it, it's Chance right down to the cocky grin. Who doesn't love a bull rider (as long he's not dating your daughter LOL)

So....Springtime in Alberta. It can never quite make up it's mind. One day it will be +16 Celcius and the next it is snowing to beat the band. Hard on my delphiniums who are eternal optimists and always start to push up green shoots as soon as the earth warms even a bit. 

So far this year, we've had some nice warm weather, and then a cold front dips down from the north and BAM- wind, and snow, and sleet, and rain

The pansies tolerate the cold so well I always put them out first. The geraniums, not so much. They come inside to hide until the weather turns again. The flowering plum in the front is working hard to put on a show, but we had some chilly weather and I'm afraid some of the buds got nipped. Hence the old adage to 'nip something in the bud' meaning to stop something before it manifests. 

I'm hoping to have a full garden, but it will depend on what weather we get in June. In the past, it has offered up a hard frost, hail and even snow, so we'll see.

The Saskatoon bushes are blooming, so hopefully I will get some berries before the birds do this year. The Rhubarb is begging to be thinned out already, it doesn't seem to mind the snow either. 

Ian Tyson got it right when he wrote the song Springtime in Alberta. 

On another note, Chance's Way is coming along. Look for it to release in September 2021.

Wishing you all happy gardening and praying for a Covid free summer.

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Covid Tired by Nancy M Bell

To learn more about Nancy and her books click on the flyer above.

I'm Covid tired, are you? I really, really want to go somewhere, do something, but nope, can't. Infection numbers are rising like crazy in Alberta. So....I have turned my frustrations to good use. Chance's Way, which I blogged about last month, is coming along. The above flyer is a mock up, the final cover will have Chance in place of Laurel, but this gives you an idea of the concept.

It's kinda cool to see all the covers in the Laurel series together. Particularly, the two Arabella covers. For those unfamiliar with the series, Laurel's Gramma Bella, while she's not in the Cornwall Adventures until the last book, has set a number of things in motion before the first book in the series. Arabella's Secret  series explores how some things came to be and how Gramma Bella ended up in southern Alberta married to a rancher instead of staying close to home in Cornwall.

I'm still working on Chance's story as he grapples with his demons and struggles with the financial difficulties of keeping the family ranch going. His pride won't let him ask for help, but the boy is floundering. Colt Rowan watches with concern, but doesn't want to stick his nose in where it might not be wanted. Laurel and Chance seem to be mending the rifts in their relationship, at least as far as friendship is concerned. Her heart is still with Coll in Cornwall, but that's a long way away. 

Stay tuned for more updates next month!

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The Alberta Adventures Chance's Story by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy's work please click on the cover.

I am currently working on the last book in the Alberta Adventures. So far the series has dealt with rescues of one sort or another.  This last novel is about Laurel's friend Chance Cullen. He's been a part of all the stories so far and I think he deserves his own story since I've dragged him through hell and back again. In Chance's Way (working title) he struggles with his demons and coming to terms with the sort of man his father is. Here is the first bit of the Chapter One. As you can see, Chance has more than a few things to come to terms with, including his seemingly unrequited love for Laurel Rowan.

Chance Cullen stood on the high school steps, having just turned in his graduation robes. He glanced at the certificate in his hands and sighed. What difference does a high school diploma mean when I don’t even know what I want to do? The parking lot was awash in colour, the girls in their fancy dresses flitted from group to group like a flock of butterflies. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips. The after grad was out at the Rowan ranch, unbidden his gaze sought out Laurel Rowan, long corn silk blonde hair twisted into some crazy up do, his sister called it. The blue of her dress was the exact colour of her eyes, not that he was likely to get close enough to her to compare the two.

Jamming his wide brimmed hat on his head Chance wended his way through the throng of students, parents and grandparents, and probably most of Pincher Creek besides. He was stopped a couple of times by friends wishing him well, but finally reached the sanctuary of his truck. Tossing his diploma onto the passenger seat, he slid into the driver’s seat. His hand hesitated in the process of starting the engine and he leaned his forearms on the steering wheel, resting his chin on them.

Without meaning to, he searched for Laurel in the crowd. With unerring accuracy, his Laurel-dar, as he liked to call it, found her standing with his sister Carly. Laurel’s parents were with the two girls and Chance’s own mother. Anna Rowan’s hair was the same spun silk colour as her daughter and Colt Rowan towered over both of them. Sally Cullen clutched at Carly’s arm and glanced toward Chance’s truck, attempting to pull her daughter away. Chance grinned, it looked like Carly was standing her ground. No doubt Mom was going to make another attempt at forcing the family together. He straightened up and grimaced. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mom hadn’t streamed the whole graduation ceremony to Dad up in prison at Bowden. Bitterness twisted his gut, like that man cared about anything but himself.

He started the truck and backed out of the spot, pretending not to see his mother making her way toward him, he turned out of the school and headed out of town. His phone buzzed in his dress shirt pocket, he pulled it free and dumped it beside the diploma on the passenger seat without checking the caller ID. There was no one he wanted to talk to right now. He drove north out of town, past the hundreds of power windmills sprouting from the rolling prairie hills. God, he hated those things. They marred the stark beauty of the land and the constant noise drove him crazy. Chance chose north on purpose. It was the opposite direction from the Rowan’s. After what happened last November, getting Laurel in danger with those bastards from the dog fight organization, Chance couldn’t look Colt Rowan in the eye, let along his wife. Mr. Rowan said he’d forgiven him, but Chance still struggled with guilt. He slammed his palm on the wheel. Dammit, dammit all to hell! The last thing in the world he ever wanted was to put Laurel in any danger.

Why did I ever listen to Dad? How did I ever convince myself that getting involved with those guys was a good idea? How fucking stupid am I? And what happened to those dogs…

Chance pulled to the side of the gravel road and rubbed at his blurred eyes. Those images would never leave him. Christ, he had nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Willing himself to force the memory of the savaged dogs and the high-pitched screams of terror drowned out and silenced by the harsh growls of the victorious dogs. Chance put his hands over his ears which only served to intensify the chaos in his mind. Flinging the door open he stumbled out into the June sunshine, rounding the front of the cab he collapsed in the tall grass at the edge of the ditch. Burying his head between his knees Chance let the emotions locked down for so long escape. It was more than he could do to hold them in check any longer. Physical pain accompanied the roar of emotions that swept through him carried on his sobbing breath. The images and sounds raging through his head were more real than the gravel biting into his hands where he clutched the ground beside him. Anything to feel anchored to something.

The sun was almost touching the horizon when the visions finally released Chance. He took a shaky breathe and scrubbed his hands over his face, grit from the road scraping his cheeks. The pain was welcome and immediate, serving to ground him in present and chase the last vestiges of the memories away. “Christ, when is this going to stop? I don’t know how much more of it I can take.” He shook his head, removed his hat and ran fingers through his damp hair. Glancing at the sun, he shoved himself to his feet. “Gotta get home and check the stock,” he muttered. Harvey Good Smoke would be at the Rowan’s party, along with his wife. They were so proud of Joey and Chance guessed they had good reason to be. Grimacing, he shoved his hat back on his head and climbed into the still open truck door.

The engine was slow to catch and Chance cursed himself for leaving the door open and running the battery down. How long was I out there sitting on the side of the road like a dead coyote? The truck finally rumbled to life, the phone on the far seat ringing at the same time. Chance closed his eyes and fought the urge to throw the thing out on the road and drive over it a time or two. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and picked up the phone. The caller cut off before he could decide if he wanted to answer it or not. Seven new voicemails, ten texts. Scrolling through, he ignored the call from his father. Waste of skin. Likewise, he skipped the voicemails from his mother, four of them. There were two from Carly, he grinned. She must have been desperate, his sister much preferred texting. Checking those, his grin widened, five were from Carly. A small jolt of adrenalin shot through him, the last one was from Laurel. His hand trembled as it hovered over the keys. What could he say to her, hell, what should he say to her? While he procrastinated, the phone vibrated in his hands. What the hell? Colt Rowan! Why is he calling me? Deliberating the wisdom of answering the call, Chance’s head shot up and he slammed the truck door shut. Slouching down in the seat he pulled his hat lower over his forehead. The last thing he needed right now was company.

The approaching pickup slewed to a stop beside him, the driver leaping out and wrenching Chance’s door open before he realized what was happening.

“You been drinking?” Joey Good Smoke demanded, knocking Chance’s hat off his head.

“No,” he snarled in reply. “And why the hell do you care if I was?” Chance jammed his hat back on.

“Are you kidding me? Your sister is in hysterics thinking you’ve gone and done something stupid, the Rowan’s had to call the doctor to settle your mother down.”

“They should know better than to worry about me,” Chance muttered, refusing to look at Joey.

“Yeah, they should. But for some reason they still love you. Damned if I can figure out why, the way you act.” Joey kicked the gravel in disgust. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and punched a finger on the first contact that came up.

Chance tried to shut his door, but Joey blocked it with his hip.

Whoever he was calling finally picked up. “Yeah, I found him.” A long silence. “Looks like hell, but he don’t smell like he’s been drinking.” Joey glanced at the passenger side of the cab. “No empties I can see.” Another silence. “Range Road Eleven, out near the Castle Valley campsite.” Joey pushed his hat back a bit and glared at Chance. “I’ll try,” he said.

“You’ll try what, Joey?” Chance demanded, attempting to wrest the door shut again. “You reporting to Carly?”

Joey shook his head. “Colt. He’s worried about you and he’s on his way. He told me to tell you to stay here.”

“Like hell!” Chance threw the truck into gear.

“I wouldn’t,” Joey warned him. “The cops are looking for you too. You might as well sit here and face the music.”

Chance swallowed against the dizziness that made his head float and his vision blur. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Why’re the cops involved?’ He wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. “I don’t need this, for fuck’s sake.”

“Blame your mom, she was so worked up she called the RCMP before anybody could stop her.” Joey slammed a fist against the box of the truck. “Why couldn’t you just answer your God damned phone? You looking for sympathy or something? Poor Chance, all alone on grad day when we should all be celebrating. Poor misunderstood Chance. You make me sick! If it wasn’t for Carly, I swear…” Joey stepped back and slammed Chance’s door, sending a quiver through the vehicle. “You know what? Go ahead, go drive off the coulee, go drive into the river. Take your pity party somewhere else. I’ll tell Colt I couldn’t stop your from leaving. ” Joey stomped back to his truck and reversed so he was parked behind Chance.

“Fuck you,” Chance snarled and took his foot off the brake, releasing the clutch at the same time. The pickup rolled forward, the tires catching in the deep gravel at the side of the road. Chance tipped his hat back and pounded his fist against the sudden tightness in his chest. “Not now,” he muttered, hitting the gas. He clung to the wheel, driving more from instinct than anything else, while the road and hills snaked around him. Chance fought the constriction in his chest as it rose to his throat and pulled his lips back from teeth. Hang on, just hang on, almost home.

Finally, the familiar ranch gate loomed in front of him and Chance turned into the lane, barely avoiding driving off the edge of the cattle guard. He jammed his foot on the gas when the barns and shed rose up in front of him. The pickup slewed to a stop by the grain bins. On somewhat safe ground, fairly certain he was alone, Chance released the death grip on the steering wheel and leaned his forehead on it. Fighting for breath, he tried to slow the rapid breathing tearing at his lungs and twisting his gut. Sweat ran down his back, he threw his hat onto the passenger seat, leaned out the door to hurl his guts up. Make is stop or let me die. God, make it stop. What the hell is going on. God make it stop. Jumbled thoughts bumped and crowded each other in his mind.

After what seemed forever, Chance opened his eyes and raised his head. Moonlight cascaded into the cab, reflecting off the silver grain bins beside him. Raking a hand through his hair, Chance grabbed his hat and stepped out of the truck. His good shirt stuck to his back and his best boots had stains on them. He couldn’t remember how that happened. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Chance drew deep breaths into his lungs, his ribs and back protesting as he did so.

“Christ, I feel like I got dumped and stomped on. What the hell was …whatever that was? Am I going nuts or something?” He straightened up and shook his head, instantly regretting the movement. The cell buzzed from inside the truck. Wearily, he reached in and snagged it from the passenger floorboards. Carly. Chance cleared his throat and took the call.

“Yeah, Carly, what’s up?” He tried to sound normal.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Carly’s voice could have been heard by the coyotes two sections over. Chance held the phone away from his ear until the shrill sounds died down a bit.

“Carly, shut up and let me get a word in, would ya? I just didn’t feel like going out to the Rowan’s.”

“Why not, you’re part of the grad class, you were invited, and you were welcome. You know that—”

“I couldn’t…Colt…and Mrs. Rowan…after what happened with Laurel…I just couldn’t…”

“Well, you could have told someone, you could have answered your phone, your texts. Damn it, Chance! How much fun do you think I had dealing with Mom and her hysterics. Got herself so worked up she was sure you’d done something stupid.”

“I’m sorry about that Carly. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Don’t you ever think before you act? It wasn’t just me, Joey and Mister Rowan and bunch of the guys and their dads went looking for you. Then Joey finally finds you and you run off again. Idiot! Where the hell are you now?” Carly demanded, still on a roll.

Chance sighed and rubbed a hand gingerly over his sore ribs. “Tell them to call off the search, I’m at the ranch and getting ready to do chores. Tell Harvey he doesn’t have to worry about night check.”

“That’s big of you.” Sarcasm dripped off his sister’s voice.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I’m telling you I just couldn’t do it, face everyone. Them looking sideways at me and whispering under their breath…”

“You’re imagining a lot of that, Chance. The Rowan’s are over it, Laurel’s worried about you. She wanted to go look too, but they talked her out of it.”

“Ya see! Colt wouldn’t want Laurie to find me, be alone with me, not after what happened with the dogs last fall…”

“Get over yourself, Chance! For God’s sake, you’re starting to sound like Dad. Coming up with excuses and blaming other people for your stupidity.”

“Fuck off, Carly. I’m not like Dad,” Chance growled.

“Aren’t you?” Carly snarled and ended the call.

Chance stared at the blank screen for a moment. Carly never hung up on him. Ever. “She must be really pissed.” He shoved the phone in his back pocket and headed to the house to change his clothes.  

https://www.bookswelove.com/bell-nancy/

www.nancymbell.ca

AuthorNancyMBell on Facebook

To learn more about my work please click on the cover 

What a crazy year this has been. Way too full of Covid and bad news. However, the sun is returning and we are turning our faces to the spring. Even while the Alberta prairies are still locked in cold and snow the flowers of spring are stirring in my heart.

I am working on the last book in The Alberta Adventures. Any of you who have followed Laurel and her friends through the three Cornwall Adventures series and then the first two of The Alberta Adventures will be familiar with Chance Cullen and his struggles. The first two books in this last series are about rescuing something, horses and dogs respectively. The third book is Chance's journey and his struggle to rescue his life from the downward spiral and bad choices he has made recently. I'm not sure where it's going quite yet as the story is still evolving. It begins right after Laurel, Carly and Chance graduate from high school. Chance and Carly's dad is in prison for his role in the events in Dead Dogs Talk and Chance is slowly coming to terms with the fact he needs to find his own way and that isn't following the example his father has set. I hope you'll watch for Chance's Way when it releases and see how things play out. I'll keep you updated on how things are going with the plot in my blog posts on the 18th of each month.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy, stay strong.

Nancy

www.nancymbell.ca

https://www.facebook.com/NancyMBell 

 

Author Voice by Nancy M Bell

To learn more aobut Nancy's work please click on the cover above. What is Author Voice? Does everyone have one? What does it do exactly? I found a quote by Richard Nordquist which I thought summed it up quite well. “Voice is the music in writing that makes the meaning clear.” Sounds simple, but of course it’s not. Voice is hard to define and seems to possess chameleon-like characteristics. Changing from one minute to the next. Everyone has an author voice if you write anything at all. Even shopping lists. Some of you will make bullet points for your list, some will list items and where they plan to shop for them, others might categorize the list by price point. It all depends on your personal outlook and how you communicate. So, no matter what, we all have an author or writer’s voice, some of them are just more developed than others. What is Author/Writer Voice? Your voice is in reality the expression of you on the page. A unique collection of your world view, your passions, fears, beliefs and attitudes. A very good friend and mentor told me many years ago that you meet the writer in her books and stories not in her living room. I was young at the time and nodded sagely like I totally understood. It wasn’t until much later and with the seasoning of a few years that I understood what she meant. As writers, we reveal parts of ourselves we would never drag out into the light of day in a conversation or everyday life. Ah, but in our writing we can let those hidden aspects surface and run freely across our pages. Voice is unique to each writer and it’s about having the courage to express yourself on paper. To be a bit more technical: Voice is the unique and individual way an author puts words on paper, a compilation of idioms, syntax, punctuation, development of your characters, dialogue and sentence structure in a body of work. Voice is not choosing to write in first or third person, nor is it a specific technique or style. Voice isn’t about branding. An author’s voice tends to be consistent throughout their work. There will be slight variations depending on the genre an author works in. To complicate things a bit. There is also Character Voice, which exists within the Author Voice. No one wants to read a book with cookie cutter characters who all speak and act in similar ways. So the author must develop the characters in the story and give then each a unique voice, which will inevitably be some part of the author’s own unique voice and outlook. Each character will have their own way of speaking, certain phrasing and ideas they express that drive the story line forward. Every facet of ourselves can be given free rein in our work. Your cast may include authoritative characters, shy, warm, funny, silly, conceited, angry etc. All of these will reflect some part of the author, we can’t escape that fact. Our characters spring from our own wellspring of experience. The trick here is for each character to have a voice that is appropriate to their role in the work, consistent and believable. What is the Function of Voice in our Writing? A well rounded and honed voice makes every word count, set up a consistent thread through the work and speaks to the reader in a way that captures their attention. What is the Difference between Tone and Voice Tone is subset of Voice. Tone is the mood of the story or work while Voice is the personality. So while your voice might be described as ‘serious’ the mood of the individual piece may be quite humorous. In creating a Tone the author sometimes will use jargon or culture specific references. While this might be important if you are writing in a specific genre like Sci-Fi or Chick Lit, you also date your work and limit your longevity. Your writing will be around for years and if you reference a certain movie star or current trend, thirty or forty years from now most readers won’t identify with that. So, don’t be lazy and tell your reader the heroine looked like a Kardashian, or Helen Mirren, or Edward from Twilight. The more diverse your audience becomes the more important it is the you aspire for simplicity and clarity. Avoid slang and culture specific references. The exception to that, is of course, unless you are writing in a genre that your audience will expect it. Just know that you are aiming at a niche audience when you chose to write in that genre. Finding Your Voice Let’s explore how you go about finding that elusive Voice. There are three major elements to consider here: What do you want to communicate about yourself, of in the case of business writing, about the brand you’re representing. If you could ask your readers to describe your work in a few descriptive words, what words would you like to hear from them? What is the purpose of your writing? Your voice will moderate slightly if you are writing a novel, a movie review or an obituary. Decide what you want to convey to your reader. Will you need to use short blunt sentences, or longer descriptive passages? Who is your target audience? This will dictate the style and tone your Voice will acquire. Both of those being subsets of Voice. Take a minute to think about those three points and come up with a few words that apply to your voice. If you’re having trouble with that, think about what you don’t want to say. How is your voice different from anyone else’s? When you have a decent list, start to whittle it down. Scrap any words that aren’t really important, make sure the ones you keep are fairly specific. Pare your list down to four or five words. You can repeat this exercise every once in a while as your descriptors will change as your Voice develops and becomes fuller and multi-layered. Types of Voice Stream of Consciousness: narrative that is made up of the thought process of the characters. Examples are Faulkner’s The Sound and Fury. Character Voice: We spoke about this earlier. Character Voice allows the reader to experience the story from the eyes and POV the character. This can be achieved by the use of third or first person POV, depending on the genre and content of your work. Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series is a good example of use of Character Voice. When she is writing in Claire’s POV it is first person, but when she switches to any of her other characters’ POV she uses third person. A clever convention to keep the reader from being confused while sub-consciously never letting them forget it is Claire who is the main character of her books. Unreliable Voice: The character speaks directly to the reader in a highly exaggerated and excitable way. This is usually employed in first person POV where the character is biased, childish or ignorant and tries to deceive the reader. This is a Voice that can be quite useful in horror or thriller genres to take the reader deep into the POV of the killer or psychopath. Poe uses this Voice in the Tell Tale Heart. Epistolary Voice: This voice is a narrative one which uses letters or documents to tell the story. It may employ multiple characters’ voices, or no character at all if the author has chosen to tell the story through various documents and letters. Shelley’s Frankenstein uses this Voice. Third Person Subjective Voice: This is a very passive Voice where a narrator relays the thoughts, opinions and feelings of the characters in the story. Hemingway’s Old Man and Sea uses this POV. Third Person Objective Voice: The story is told by a narrator who doesn’t touch on the character’s emotions or thoughts. It supplies an objective and unbiased (except the author’s own ingrained bias) POV. I’ll close with a quote form Rachel Gardner: “So how do you find your voice? You can’t learn it. You can’t copy it. Voice isn’t a matter of studying. You have to find it. And the only place you can find it is within you.”

Dead Dogs Talk New Release from Nancy M Bell

For more information on Nancy's books click the cover above.

I'm excited to share with you the latest installment in The Alberta Adventures. The Coal and his band of wild horses are still safe, but now Laurel finds herself embroiled with a dog fighting ring after she and Carly come across an injured dog while out riding. Of course, bad boy Chance, Carly's brother is in it up to his neck trying to prove to his ringleader dad that he's tough enough to earn Daddy's approval.

As in Wild Horse Rescue, there is an underlying message in the book. Dog fighting rings and puppy mills are a real evil and they exist world wide. It is a horrible and reprehensible activity. The animals involved have no voice, other than their unheard cries for help and comfort. We must be their voice and we must speak loudly. Don't by cute puppies from pet stores that aren't supporting local rescues by featuring only rescue animals for adoption, don't buy off local see pages on the internet.

The inspiration for Dead Dogs Talk came from a very real event that a friend relayed to me. She was out riding her horse with a friend along a grassy pathway and they came across a very skinny dead dog tied to a tree by a ratty rope. The dog was obviously ill treated, with scars and wounds and the nails on the paws so long they curled under. Clearly the dog had been caged and not allowed to move normally as the condition of the paws made that painfully evident. She was most likely a used up victim of a puppy mill. No way to identify her or an owner, of course. And frankly, the authorities weren't interested and washed their hands of it. Sadly, even if there had been a way to trace the person or persons who dumped this girl, chances are the charges would have been thrown out of court, if things even got that far. At best, the perpetrator would have gotten a slap on the wrist a small fine. Even if they had been court ordered to not be in possession of any animals, there is no organization that monitors that. Many of those who are under similar court orders just move provinces or totally ignore the order and carry on. There is little or no follow up.
I give my injured dog a happy ending and the discovery of a microchip in another dog leads to the group responsible. In effect, the dead dog with the microchip manages to speak out via the chip.

Please hold your furbabies close and love them. Don't let them roam, keep them safe.

The story isn't all gloom and doom, so don't despair. Laurel ends up volunteering at an animal rescue and she gets to ride her barrel horse Sam at the Canadian Finals Rodeo in Red Deer Alberta. Carly's brother Chance is maturing and starting to realize that his father isn't always the best role model. The last book in this series will be out next year and it will feature Chance and his struggles to find his way in the world. As always, the events play out against the rolling Alberta prairies under the wide Alberta blue sky. Working title is Finding the Way or maybe Second Chance. No clear winner yet.

Until next time, stay well, stay safe. These are my rescue dogs below. Miley, Gibbie, and George.

A little Sneak Peak by Nancy M Bell

To learn more about Nancy's work please click on the cover.

I've been working on the next book in The Alberta Adventures series. It's working title is Dead Dogs Talk. Where Wild Horse Rescue centres around the wild horses in Alberta, Dead Dogs Talk will centre on the horrendous practice of dog fighting and puppy mills. Often the two go hand in hand. I thought I would whet your whistle so to speak and share the first bit of Dead Dogs Talk with you.

Dead Dogs Talk
©Nancy M Bell 2020

Laurel surveyed the buckskin prairie rolling away from her toward the purple hued Rockies in the distance. She inhaled the familiar scent of dry grain stubble and dust with underlying notes of cool brought on the wind from the west.
“I know it sounds lame, but have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Laurel turned and spoke to Carly, her best friend.
“I love this time of year. The sky is just so…so…blue and the aspens are all turning gold.” Carly nudged her mare up beside Laurel’s Sam, the saddle leather creaking as she shifted her weight.
Laurel grinned at her. “Let ride down by the river under the trees, the sun’s just about the right angle to turn those leaves all gold and sunstruck.”
The girls turned the horses away from the harvested barley field and followed the worn path along a fence line toward the coulee. The track snaked around and followed the gravel range road before detouring around a stand of aspen crowding the fence near the road. Laurel turned Sam toward the path that dipped down the slope of the coulee.
“Hey, Laurel, wait up!”
Laurel pulled up and twisted in the saddle to see what was holding Carly up. “What’s wrong?” She pivoted Sam on the narrow trail and moved back to where Carly was sitting motionless. “What? You okay?” Laurel drew even with her friend and let Sam halt beside the mare.
“Look…” Carly motioned toward the aspens and low bushes. “Is that what I think it is?” her voice choked off.
“I don’t see…” Laurel nudged Sam a few steps closer and leaned down trying to see what was upsetting Carly. “Oh my God!” She piled off her horse, dropping the reins to ground-tie the gelding. Shoving her way through the tangled bushes, she halted by a bent aspen tree. Tied by its neck to the lowest branch was a brindle dog. Blinking back tears, Laurel reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out her jack knife. Muttering words her father would frown at, she started to saw at the thick rope.
“Who would do something like this?” Carly’s voice trembled as she pushed through the long grass and brush. “The poor thing, I hope it didn’t suffer.” She stuffed a hand against her mouth.
The dog’s head flopped to the side when the rope finally parted, and the limp body collapsed onto the trodden grass. Laurel dropped to her knees and began working at loosening the noose around the thick neck.
“It’s dead, Laurel. What are you doing? Let’s go, we should tell someone. What if whoever did this comes back?” Carly started edging back toward the horses.
“I don’t care! The least we can do is take this damned rope off her.” She pulled the noose free and sat back on her heels. “Poor baby. Look at the scars on her face, and the wounds all over her. Makes me so mad I could just spit.”
“Shit!” The limp body gave a shuddering convulsion and the unfocussed eyes fluttered. Laurel scrambled backward. “Carly, she’s alive! The dog is still alive. Come help me.”
“We should go and get help, Laurel. What if the thing is vicious? Or has rabies?” Carly hesitated at the edge of the trees.
“We can’t leave her like this. She might run off before we can get back once she’s recovered a bit. She needs a vet. And we need to take pictures of everything. Damn, I should have thought of that before I touched anything.” Laurel pulled her phone out of her pocket and took pictures of the rope and the dog and the area while keeping an eye on the dog who panted in rasping breaths. “Keep breathing, girl. Keep breathing.” She edged closed to the dog, reached out cautiously and straightened out a front leg that was twisted under a broken tree limb. The dog lifted her head and Laurel froze with her hand still on the leg.
“Get back!” Carly’s voice was shrill.
“It’s fine, she’s not even growling. I think she’s too weak to do much more than lie there.”
“Now what do we do? It’s getting late, you know. Look at the sun.” Carly waved an arm toward the western horizon where the sun hovered a hand’s width above the shorn barley.
“Call Chance. He can bring the truck.” Laurel released the dog’s leg and stood up.
“I don’t know if he’ll even come,” Carly was doubtful. “You know how he gets.”
“Call him, will you? I’m going to call Dr. Sam and let him know we’re bringing in an injured dog.” Laurel scrolled through her phone to the vet’s number. She glanced at Carly and scowled. “Call your damn brother, Carly. If he says no, we’ll figure something else out. He can’t bite you over the phone.”
“Hi Marg,” she responded when the vet’s receptionist picked up the phone. “It’s Laurel Rowan. I’ve got an injured dog that’s in pretty bad shape here.” She paused to listen. “No, no, not one of mine. Carly and I found this dog while we were out riding. It’s in pretty bad shape, she was tied to a tree, half strangled and looks like she’s been in a fight. What? No, there’s no one around that we saw. As soon as we can get a ride, I’ll bring her in. Thanks.” Laurel ended the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“Chance is coming.” Carly joined her under the aspens.
“Good. Hey, did you bring any water? I bet she’s dehydrated.” Laurel squatted beside the dog again and reached out a hand. When the big dog did nothing more than roll an eye toward her, she stroked the dog’s shoulder. Running her hand gently over the ribs and down her spine, Laurel’s gut clenched. Her exploring fingers found bumps and contusions, along with matted blood and open wounds. “Hey baby girl, it’s okay now. We got you,” she murmured.
“Here.” Carly shoved a half full bottle of water at Laurel. “It’s all I’ve got on me.” She hesitated before kneeling beside Laurel. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough. Looks like someone beat the crap out of her before they dumped her here.”
The growl of tires on the gravel heralded an approaching vehicle. Laurel glanced through the trees toward the road. “Is it Chance? Stay down, Carly, until we’re sure it’s him.”
“Oh God! You don’t think whoever did this would come back, do you? What about the horses? Anybody could see them from the road…” Carly turned pale.
“Don’t freak out on me, now. Just stay in the trees until we’re sure it’s Chance. I don’t think whoever did this cares enough to show up again.”
The crunch of tires on gravel slowed and a beat up brown pickup slowed to a halt where the horses stood ground-tied on the opposite side of the fence.
“Carly? Laurie? Where the hell are you?” Chance stepped out of the truck, sounding annoyed.
“Here!” Carly pushed through the trees toward her brother. “The dog’s in the bushes here. It’s too heavy for us to move. Laurel’s with her.”
Chance reached inside the truck and killed the engine before he stalked down the ditch and swung a long leg over the top strand of barb wire. He followed his sister through the low brush and halted beside Laurel.
“What a shittin’ mess. You sure it’s alive?” He nudged the dog with is boot.


Well, that's as much as I'm going to share for now. You can find me at www.nancymbell.ca AuthorNancyMBell on Facebook and on the BWL Publishing Inc webpage.
Until next month, stay well, stay happy

Hello from Snowy Alberta Canada by Nancy M Bell

WIld Horse Rescue is the first in The Alberta Adventures Series featuring the same characters from The Cornwall Adventures. I hope you enjoy Laurel's latest adventure. For more info and buy links please click here.

But now, back to snowy Alberta! This is only the middle of October and already we've had more snow that is necessary. I mean really Universe... Although the ski hills in the mountains are celebrating those of us prairie dwellers are not. Crops are still in the fields, some swathed and some still standing. Canola, barley and wheat stretch for hectares under overcast skies and highlighted by a frosting of snow. It's been a crazy year, we went from winter to summer with no spring to speak of and then from summer to winter with no fall to speak of. Usually, we take a drive through Kananakis Country west of Calgary to enjoy the golden leaves and blue skies, but not this year.

On another note, it's been a busy summer promoting the Canadian Historical Brides series of which I have two titles. His Brother's Bride representing Ontario and Landmark Roses representing Manitoba. I also did research for the New Brunswick title On A Stormy Primeval Shore. Then I had a deadline to finish Wild Horse Rescue and I'm happy to say it released September 30th of this year. I was privileged to present at When Words Collide in Calgary in August. On the 14th of October a panel of the Brides authors hosted an event at the Carstairs Museum and on the 20th we will be at the Strathmore Library. Busy busy.

I'm also very excited to be involved with the Alexandria Writers Centre Story Coach program. Story Makers were chosen by the Centre and they in turn chose who they would like to work with from a list of Story Coaches. I'm happy to say I was picked and I absolutely love the writer I'm paired with. Her steam punky magic filled story shows great promise and I look forward to working with her. The program runs from October to end of April when there will be celebration of work well done. If you live in the Calgary area and are interested in learning more about the Alexandria Writers Centre you can click here.


For now I leave you with some snowy Alberta pictures. So those of you who are enjoying Indian Summer, don't blink, it's coming your way. LOL Until next time stay well, stay healthy and happy.