Coral McCallum

As it’s almost Christmas, I thought I’d share something a little sparkly and new with you this week.

As last week’s poetic blog alluded to, for the past couple of years words haven’t flowed as smoothly as I would like. I’m loathe to describe it as writer’s block as the storylines were still there for my current book baby along with ideas for future book babies. There are a dozen things that I could blame this word drought on but every time I go to type the words here, they sound like excuses to me and I’m not about to make excuses for not being able to park my backside at my desk and write as easily as I have in the past. Life happens and over the past couple of years it has thrown a few roadblocks in the way of creative progress. There’s been a lot of shadow work done in the background to clear the path. Let’s leave that thought there…

Now, I am feeling a little more confident that the word drought is finally over and thought I would share a short excerpt from Book Baby 9. The first draft started out as Book Baby 8 three years ago then, as the words weren’t flowing, I decided to publish Beginnings , my first collection of poems, so it became Book Baby 8 while I pulled it together in early 2024. When I returned to the book baby in the photo above, it naturally evolved into Book Baby 9. My first draft is not quite finished yet but I’m close enough to the end, to feel comfortable enough to share an excerpt from the start with you.

What you see in the photo is what Book Baby 9 looks like at present but there are roughly 30 000 of those words already typed. When I felt that I couldn’t write, I typed instead. It is my intention that Book Baby 9 will finally see the light of day and be set free in 2026. It’s still nameless as I type this and its naked too as I’ve not got as far as thinking about a cover design. All in good time.

For now though, for those who have been waiting so patiently for word of a new novel, here’s a little taster of what’s to come. Be gentle with these words. They are new and at present un-edited.

Streaks of spring sunshine filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the trail as she walked. She had been walking for hours, lost in her grief; lost in her thoughts. Beside her Storm and Lily walked patiently, occasionally touching her hand with their noses as if to say, “We’ve got you.” Both dogs seemed to be empathising with her emotional state.

Ahead of her, further down the trail, she could see the large flat rock at the viewpoint. Trying to gauge how much daylight was left, she decided to rest for a minute or two before walking the last couple of miles back to the studio house.

With a sigh of relief, she sat on top of the rock, drinking in the spectacular view before taking a long chug on her water bottle. At her feet, Lily let out a mournful whine.

“I know how you feel,” she said, reaching out to fondle the wolf dog’s ears. Suddenly, she felt a weight on her thigh at the other side as Storm laid his huge head down, his gaze fixed on her.

“Just give me a minute then we’ll head home. I know you guys are hungry. I am too. Didn’t mean to walk you as far but…oh, you understand, don’t you?”

By the time she reached the final section of the trail the light was fading fast. Dusk had settled quickly as they had descended. In the distance she could just see the twinkling lights that were strung round the patio at the rear of the house, and she thought she could smell a whiff of BBQ on the breeze. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Breakfast had been her last meal and, apart from a few fruit snacks, she hadn’t eaten all day.

“Ah, Miss Johnson, I presume,” quipped JJ from his reclined position on the hammock. “I thought you’d got lost.”

“Sorry,” apologised Riley quietly as she sat her empty water bottled on the table. “I didn’t mean to be gone all day.”

“No harm done” he said, wriggling to sit up and get his feet on the ground before the hammock tipped him out. As he stood up, JJ said, “I’ll sort the dogs and you can start dinner. The chicken skewers are in the refrigerator.”

“Sure. These guys have been good company today, but they must be starving. I’d guess we’ve walked about fifteen miles.”

“Easily done when you’re following your thoughts as well as the trail,” he commented. Snapping his fingers, he called the dogs to heel and led them round to their enclosure.

Soon Riley had the chicken kebabs on the grill and the table set for supper. She had fetched some salad and coleslaw along with a bag of tortilla chips plus plates and cutlery.

“Smells good,” complimented JJ stepping back out of the house. “Dogs are settled for the night. They were ravenous. I guess they didn’t hunt while they were with you. Storm usually snags a rabbit or two on a long hike.”

“Poor babies,” said Riley turning the skewers on the grill. “They’ll sleep well after that.”

“But will you?” he asked, handing her a beer.

“I hope so. I barely slept a wink last night.”

“You want to talk, Miss Riley?” prompted JJ softly.

Busying herself transferring the chicken onto a serving plate, the little green haired girl dodged the question until they were seated at the table. Keeping her gaze on the plate in front of her, Riley said, “I know he was old. I’d guessed he was sicker than he was letting on. Recognised the look in his eyes. My Grammy had that same look.  Wish I’d had the chance to thank him and say goodbye.”

Tears fell onto her plate as her grief crashed through her.