Boy, it's been a while.
But before you think less of me, please note that in the past 7 months I have published 13 novels or novellas. And thanks to a couple of other writers in the Culloden Moor series, we now have 17 books up=16 warriors removed from the moor, safely tucked away in their happily ever afters. Well, mostly.
It's quiet tonight. But I'm not in the waiting room. The creaks of tight rope and complaining planks of wood come from the ship I'm on--a late 18th century galleon. And those snores you hear are from the crew and passengers tucked away beneath the deck for the night. A week ago, it was decreed that only sailors are allowed to be out and about after dark.
Obviously, Captain Titus is sick of the passengers after five solid weeks at sea. You can see him watching the last orange bump of the sun settling into the water at our backs, and the second it's gone, he bellows to the steward, "Mister York! Put the children to bed!"
They're all bothersome children now, no longer invited to dine with him. They're careful to stay out of his line of sight for the most part. And those who do cross his path, he pretends not to notice. Eye contact is a thing of the past. Silence is golden.
And now that you know where I'm spending my time, it will come as no surprise that our next Highland warrior will soon be arriving on the scene. There is a great mystery afoot, you see. And, luckily for us, Soncerae is sending Watson to help us solve it. A tall, braw lad from the Isle of Mull, Tremayne Watson has a taste for mysteries even though he never met Sherlock Holmes in real life.
But then again, none of us has...
But before you think less of me, please note that in the past 7 months I have published 13 novels or novellas. And thanks to a couple of other writers in the Culloden Moor series, we now have 17 books up=16 warriors removed from the moor, safely tucked away in their happily ever afters. Well, mostly.
It's quiet tonight. But I'm not in the waiting room. The creaks of tight rope and complaining planks of wood come from the ship I'm on--a late 18th century galleon. And those snores you hear are from the crew and passengers tucked away beneath the deck for the night. A week ago, it was decreed that only sailors are allowed to be out and about after dark.
Obviously, Captain Titus is sick of the passengers after five solid weeks at sea. You can see him watching the last orange bump of the sun settling into the water at our backs, and the second it's gone, he bellows to the steward, "Mister York! Put the children to bed!"
They're all bothersome children now, no longer invited to dine with him. They're careful to stay out of his line of sight for the most part. And those who do cross his path, he pretends not to notice. Eye contact is a thing of the past. Silence is golden.
And now that you know where I'm spending my time, it will come as no surprise that our next Highland warrior will soon be arriving on the scene. There is a great mystery afoot, you see. And, luckily for us, Soncerae is sending Watson to help us solve it. A tall, braw lad from the Isle of Mull, Tremayne Watson has a taste for mysteries even though he never met Sherlock Holmes in real life.
But then again, none of us has...
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