Fiction: Overshadowed

Fred’s expensive cigars, the way he shot, and the way he rode when taken out for a race impressed a few of the young officers. Though his cocksure attitude provoked the more experienced commissioned men and the privates who were the victims of his superior words and actions, he had a small coterie of loyal…

Fiction: A Doctor’s Mistakes

Graham wiped his eyes. “That watch … the one I gave you … it was for Nathan—my younger brother first — during the war. You are the light of the world like a city on a mountain … Nathan was the light of my family. Something about him—we could all love him without embarrassment—he was…

#WritersLife at Middlemay Farm

The last of my novels are awaiting their final editing (more about how great KEVIN BRENNAN of INDIE-SCRIBABLE EDITORIAL SERVICES has been in a future post). Spring has arrived and just in time. As my dogs can tell you, we were getting a little too used to slacking in bed. Yes, this is our new…

Fiction: Honest Appraisals

A soldier poked his head in to the coach to greet the Crenshaw family when they came to a stop. He scanned the group of strangers. Opening the door, the soldier held out his hand to Buck’s sister Meg. “Allow me to help you, miss.” Despite her best efforts to appear unmoved, she giggled, blushed,…

Fiction: Family Shots

“Merciful heavens, Graham, look at Buck’s face. It’s worse than ever!” Margaret cried. “Mother, you look well,” Buck said and kissed her cheek. “You look terrible.” “Well, I was shot.” “What?” Fred cried in disbelief. “Who shot you?” “An Apache.” “Damn, you were in a shoot-out with Indians?” Fred asked in jealous awe. “You lucky…

Fiction: The Only Thing Left

“Then I’ll be eternally damned, right?” William asked with a sneer. Kenyon said nothing. “But Buck, who admits to almost killing someone, is saved. Well, that’s some trick.” Kenyon thought a moment. “It’s interesting that you feel within your rights to judge and require certain behaviors—say from your father—but it annoys you that God, who…

Fiction: Tangled

“Seems the bit of merriment you boys had got the lieutenant shot,” said the veteran doctor. Buck swung his legs to the side of the bed. “I have to see him.” “No, I’m afraid not, son. Fahy won’t want to see you. He’s upset and angry, poor devil. Says you both stole horses and deserted…

Fiction: Burnt

“Stay with me, cadet,” Fahy replied. “We’ll have some devilment tonight.” But Buck had come west for a break from devilment. The day glistened like a golden carpet to the west and Buck felt the nip of sunburn and weariness as the soldiers tended a massive fire with choice cuts of rare buffalo brought in…

Fiction: Parched

Rich and colorful page turners. Morris has a fine sense of time and place and brings her memorable characters to life. She also tells a captivating story. You won’t find it easy to put her book down, and her characters will stay with you when you do. We can only hope she keeps writing and gives us more episodes in this fascinating chronicle.

Do Your Characters Need Therapy?

I’ve been to therapy. I wanted to be told I was basically a good person. A friend just told me he would only go to a therapist who was a lot like him. Another said she sometimes went for access to drugs. Are writers therapists? Is writing their therapy? We all know about writers who…

Fiction: A Secret Meeting

  “Thankful’s been very melancholy lately—homesick, I bet,” Mrs. Markham thought out loud after Thankful excused herself. William glared at Lieutenant Fahy, who sipped his drink and ran his fingers over a fine crystal vase on the whatnot in the corner. “I don’t think it helps much that dear Lieutenant Fahy is so eager to…