This is something I have written about before because this does happen to me every few books, but I just couldn’t resist talking about it again!
As you know, my next release The Dark Finds You (out on 9th January) can be read as a standalone but also ties up various storylines from some of my other books in a connected universe. Connecting some of my books up with characters and locations is something I really love doing! The Dark Finds You was such an easy and pleasurable book to write because the idea of how to link up some of my most beloved characters came so naturally that writing it felt like pure joy. It took six weeks and it felt like it wrote itself. This was back in 2023.
This also happened to me with Book One in the upcoming Black Hare Valley series. I wrote the first draft of book one in several notebooks over a six week period after we had a long-lasting power cut that prompted me to get writing. Each chapter led to the next and it just poured out of me. Most of the books that followed have been similar, although book 3 was a tricky one and book 5 still needs a lot of work.
Last week when I was reading through the paperback proof of The Dark Finds You to check for errors, I got addicted to the story once again. It brought back to me how much I love and understand these characters and before I know it my mind was asking questions. What if…? And then, what if…? You get the picture.
The thing is I did leave a few things a little bit open at the end of The Dark Finds You. I now wonder if I did that subconsciously because I still wasn’t ready to let go and say goodbye for good…
All I had to do was slightly alter the tiniest bit of dialogue in the novel for a part two to be possible…
The idea hit me like a bullet and exploded into pieces in my brain so violently I had to very quickly grab a notebook and write it all down before I lost anything. By Thursday last week I had outlined the whole novel chapter by chapter and could not resist writing chapter one in a notebook.
That was it then, and by Sunday night I had 30,000 words.
That’s a big word count for a four day period, but funnily enough we did have another power cut during this time that left me with no option but to write!
Extra scenes have obviously squeezed themselves between my original chapter outlines, but other than that, it is all unfolding exactly as it did in my head last week. Which makes it so incredibly easy… I can only describe it as like being in a trance and just letting it all pour out of me as fast as possible!
When it goes this well, it becomes very addictive. You just don’t want to stop or let anything get in the way of writing, when it is just begging to be written and the next chapter is constantly filling your head screaming to be let out.
I wrote so much over the weekend that it physically hurt. I think that is a new thing for me. My shoulders, neck, back and eyes were all begging for a break, but I just wanted to keep going. I had to force myself to stop.
It will slow down as the week ahead progresses because I have work and life to contend with, but I know I will feel the intense pull of it every day until I get to my laptop in the evening.
Obviously, it doesn’t always work like this! Last week before this all kicked off, I finally finished the first draft of my family mystery drama The 7th Child. This was a book that had been waiting its turn patiently for years and had the plot, location and characters all mapped out ready to go. It went well to start with but it didn’t burst out of me in the same way and by the end of that first draft I hated it! I have figured out how to fix it though.
So, it’s not always like magic. Sometimes it is much harder work.
Which is why it is always worth celebrating the joy of it going so well!
The final book in an interconnected universe is finally here…
image owned by Luke Fielding Art
First of all, let me apologise for the lack of blog posts since I started sharing Black Hare Valley Book 1 with you a few months back! A huge thank you to those who read along and left me feedback. I really appreciate it and serialising was an overwhelmingly positive thing to do. I will be serialising something else soon but more on that next week!
This week the good news is I finally have a new book on the horizon. The Dark Finds You is a gritty crime thriller drama about a fractured community and a missing boy. It also contains characters from many of my previous books in a shared universe. However, it can very much be read as a standalone and you do not have to read any of the previous books to enjoy this one.
If you are interested in exploring the connected universe however, I’ve listed the order to read them in. If you start with The Boy With The Thorn In His Side series and work your way through, you will find that The Dark Finds You makes a satisfying conclusion to previous storylines in that world. The main characters in The Dark Finds You are: Danny Bryans (nightclub owner), Leon Lawrenson (drug dealer) Bill Robinson (lead singer in a band who play at Danny’s nightclub) Elliot Pie (Bill’s father is having a baby with Elliot’s mother so they are now almost brothers) Laura Pie, (Elliot’s mother) Leah Barratt (Elliot’s friend) and Finn Douglas (Elliot’s other friend and the catalyst for the storyline when he goes missing.)
And here are the order the characters appear in books I have already published. In other words, read in this order!
Best friend Elliot is desperate to find him, but why is mutual friend Leah strangely reluctant to help?
Elliot’s pregnant mother fears her agoraphobia has returned, while his almost-brother, Bill, agrees to help look for Finn but risks exposing his secret drug habit in the process.
Meanwhile, ex-con Danny knows his nightclub is being infiltrated by drug dealers who work for a gang from his past. And drug dealer Leon can’t have the fresh start he wants until he has repaid his debt to the same criminal gang.
A collection of characters with dark pasts find themselves linked by a common mystery that they all have a clue to solving – what has happened to Finn Douglas?
At the time of writing you can’t pre-order the paperback because I am currently waiting for the proof copies arrive for me to check over! I will let you know as soon as the order links are live.
NOTE: I don’t know what’s wrong with me this week but I send the Substack chapter out today instead of tomorrow and I sent the WordPress chapter out on the wrong site!! Anyway, to make up for it I am posting two chapters this week. There will be another one tomorrow!
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
1
Willow writes three identical notes on Wednesday morning before leaving for school. Each one reads simply: The Ruins, Saturday, from 12pm. She decides to write ‘from’ 12pm because after that she has all day. If the others can’t make it until 1pm, 2pm or 3pm, she will just wait.
At school she passes Jaime her note as they cross paths in the playground. She slides Ralph’s into his hand at first break after lingering briefly outside his English class. She doesn’t expect to see Jesse in school but keeps her hand curled around his note just in case. She has to fight hard to hide her amazement when she spots him in the canteen at lunchtime. He looks okay too, which is even more amazing. She wants to rush up and throw a million questions at him but she forces herself to hold back. She knows they are being watched. She agrees with Jaime that pretending to lose interest in finding Paddy is their best bet right now.
She keeps an eye on Jesse until she sees him leave and then she gets up, follows and just as he joins the throng of students in the corridor outside, she slips the note into his back pocket, turns and walks quickly away.
By the end of the day, Willow has received three notes of her own.
From Jaime: I’ll be there. Got lots to tell but Mum and Mark not letting me anywhere!
From Ralph: I’ll be there!
From Jesse: I’ll try. It’s OK here. Weird but OK.
Willow is relieved to read that last bit. She had a sleepless night tossing and turning, unable to stop imagining what awful things might be happening to him. But he’s okay, and back at school which is odd, but at least Mayor Sumner is letting him out.
It’s all odd, Willow thinks on her way home, it’s all very, very odd. Her own parents are not exactly keeping her under lock and key but she has sensed a change in them. They seem nervy and on edge. On Wednesday evening though, her mother finally caves in to her constant badgering and thrusts a handful of old photographs at her.
‘Here,’ she says, something dark and unhappy dancing in her eyes. ‘I finally found them. You can stop going on about it now, and before you ask, no, I don’t remember anything about Carol-Anne Radley.’
‘You must remember she went missing?’ Willow frowns at her as she takes the photos. ‘It must have been in the paper or something?’
Her mother shakes her head, twirling a length of black hair nervously around one index finger. ‘I always thought she just got packed off to a relative or something.’
‘What about Angie? What about Jesse’s mum?’
Lizzie lifts and drops her shoulders and a look of something close to revulsion crosses over her features as she steps away from her daughter. ‘Angie always was a strange one. They were a strange family, and her and Nicky Archer, it didn’t end well. It was never going to end well with those two.’
Willow looks down at the photos and when she looks up to ask another question, her mother has left her room and closed the door behind her. Mystified, Willow shakes her head and examines the photos. There are three.
The first shows a group of young girls all wearing long white dresses and clutching posies of wild flowers. Willow wonders if they are flower girls or bridesmaids and then her eye is drawn to the girl in the middle. She is also wearing a white dress but upon her head of loose fair curls is a crown of flowers, and she is perched demurely on a chair that has been decorated to look like a thrown.
‘May Day,’ Willow whispers, placing her finger gently on the May Queen.
The May Queen looks about twelve or thirteen and she is smiling so widely and brightly, Willow can feel the pure joy in her heart. Her hands are clutching her own posy of flowers and her bare feet are tucked just under the chair. Willow stares at her long and hard, before allowing her gaze to drift to the other girls. She thinks they are aged roughly between four and twelve, and the smallest ones are sat cross-legged on the grass in front of the grinning May Queen.
Her eyes are drawn to one who is undoubtedly her mother. She holds a striking resemblance to Willow, with the same long black hair, though hers has a wide flowered headband holding it back from her slim face. She’s one of the taller girls standing at the back of the group and she has a somewhat haughty and slightly unimpressed air about her, her smile forced and sardonic.
Willow has no idea what Angie and Carol-Anne Radley looked like so she scans the rest of the faces fiercely, looking for Jesse. She runs her finger across the bottom row first, staring intently at each sweet cherubic face. She can’t see Jesse’s scowling eyes in any of them. The next row are a bit older, four girls clustered around the throne, and the back row is made up of her mother and two other girls. She discounts these immediately. She recognises one as Alexa’s mother. Her teenage face is an exact replica of her smug-faced daughters, and she thinks the other girl might be Paddy’s mother.
She focuses on the middle row, the girls surrounding the May Queen. Willow peers into each face and finally makes a connection. The May Queen, although fair-haired, has the exact same face shape, smile and nose as the girl leaning towards her from the right. They both look like they are suppressing an outburst of giggles and their lips, cheeks and eyes are all set exactly the same.
Bingo, she thinks. Carol-Anne must be the May Queen and Angie is the darker haired one leaning next to her. And now that she really scrutinises them, she thinks she can see Jesse in their faces too. She pictures his face when he smiles, how his mouth stretches up more on one side than the other and how his dark eyes almost vanish into his face and she sees it as clear as day. His mother and aunt in the photo with her mother.
Willow slips the photo to the bottom of the pile and examines the next. It only takes a second for Willow to place the location – Milly’s Café. Her mother stands centre stage, one elbow leaning on the countertop while her other hand clutches her narrow waist. She has one leg kicked out behind her, making her pose both dramatic and amusing. Willow smiles as she takes in the younger version of her mother. Long black hair, this time with a heavy fringe skirting dark eyes heavily made up with mascara and eye-liner. Her eyes are narrowed slightly and Willow almost laughs. She’s seen that cool, unimpressed look enough times from her mother. In this photo Lizzie is smiling with her mouth wide open, laughing maybe.
‘So cool,’ Willow murmurs admiringly.
She takes in the rest of the photo and immediately picks out Jesse’s father, Nick Archer.
‘Wow,’ she says, blinking.
It looks almost like Jesse has gone back in time. There he is with his dark hair cut into a fringe, Beatles style, the back and sides looking in need of a trim, curling under his ears and from behind his neck. His eyes are familiar too, dark and scowling, his top lip lifting in a slight sneer while his lips betray him with a smile. He’s wearing a black donkey jacket over dark blue jeans with a white t-shirt. He’s stood beside Willow’s mother, in the centre of the group, a cigarette in one hand and a mug of something in the other.
‘Unbelievable,’ says Willow, turning her attention to the next teenager, another boy, this time perched on a stool and looking back over one shoulder. ‘Oh my God, Ralph!’ Willow blurts out before slapping a hand over her mouth.
She can see where he gets his build and his curls from. The young man who must undoubtedly be Frankie Maxwell, is stocky, his face wide, his gaze firm and unamused. His hair is a tangle of brown curls and he too, is smoking a cigarette.
On the other side of him, her back to the counter, her hands linked in front of her, is a girl who must be Angie, Jesse’s mother. She looks different than the May Queen photo, her dark hair is shorter, a feathered bob style that accentuates her elfin features. She is smiling for the camera but there is no mistaking the haunted, anxious look in her eyes. Willow wonders if Carol-Anne was the one who took the photo, or whether she had already gone missing by the time it was taken.
Sighing, she turns to the final photo. She can’t work out where it was taken, but taking centre stage once again is Nick Archer. This time he is straddling a motorbike, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. He’s not looking at the camera, but appears to be saying something to someone out of shot. His hair looks longer and messier and if Willow really stares, she thinks she can see a cut on his lower lip.
Frankie Maxwell is there again, this time sitting in the grass in front of the motorbike, his knees bent, and his arms around a shaggy lurcher dog. He’s smiling in this one but it looks somewhat forced. Sat beside him is Willow’s mother. She has her own cigarette on the go, hanging loosely from her fingers over one bent knee. She’s dressed casually in bell-bottomed jeans and a flowery top. Her hair is in a ponytail pulled over one shoulder.
She looks sadder too, Willow thinks. There is a trace of a smile on her lips but it’s lost and whimsical and she appears to be gazing at something off camera too. Willow examines the background. She can see fields, and it looks like summer going by the colour of the grass. There is a fence in the distance, she can just make it out stretching between two far off trees. A building beyond that, possibly a house, she’s not sure.
Fascinated, greedy with the hunger for more, Willow slips the photos under her pillow and cannot wait to show the others tomorrow.
That night is another sleepless one for Willow as the anticipation for Saturday grows inside her alongside the excitement of sharing the photos. Her stomach is a mess as she lies on the bed, pressing her hands against it. Her chest too – it feels tight and weird like she can’t catch a breath properly. She thinks of the ruins and her friends and everything Jesse will be able to tell them about Hill Fort Farm. She thinks of Jaime’s words, ‘got lots to tell’ and wonders what on earth it can be. How can she have dug anything else up with her mum and stepdad keeping such a close eye on her?
She has to wait. And waiting is torture.
When sleep refuses to come anywhere close, Willow gives up and goes to the window. The back garden is a dark rectangle, narrow and long just like the one behind Paddy’s shop. The sides are lined with thick clusters of trees and shrubs and a small shed sits at the end beside the gate – the plastic window glinting in a streak of silver moonlight.
It’s here that Willow sees the movement. Although after, when she tries to see it and reimagine it in her head, she can’t quite get it right and it feels more like an impossible dream than anything else. In the moment, she thinks she sees a creature moving slowly in a cautious, loping manner. Her eyes strain to pick out form and shape; a sloping back and long ears. She knows what she’s hoping to see and she doesn’t hesitate. She tears from her room and races downstairs. She wrenches open the back door and whispers, ‘Paddy?’
But the shape has gone. The garden is still. The only sound is a far off howl that makes her jump in fright and slam the door.
2
On Saturday, Jesse is the first to arrive at the ruins. He checks his watch while still climbing the final slope of the hill. It’s 11.50am. He’s breathless and red-cheeked and physically feels better than he has in a long time. Margaret Sumner is a good cook – serving no-nonsense meals that fill him up. She doesn’t believe in snacks or fast food. He’s never consumed so many vegetables in his life.
It’s been a strange week – almost dreamlike, he reflects as he pushes on up the hill. The biggest relief came with his return to school and the biggest surprise in him making it to Friday without a detention. He can tell Bishop is appalled to have him back but fuck him and fuck Mayfield too; for some reason, the mayor seems to like Jesse.
She still won’t let him ask too many questions and she likes to keep him busy. There are always chores to be done around the farm but she isn’t keeping him imprisoned, which is what he feared. Does that mean she trusts him? He thinks probably not but what can he do but try to be patient?
Coming here now is a risk. She thinks he is visiting his brothers but instead he’s clambering up the hill to the ruins to meet the unlikely group of people who he now considers his friends. Despite the risks, Jesse is excited.
He reaches the top and turns around. Black Hare Valley lies below and he feels it watching him. At the moment, it naps with one eye open. It knows he can’t and won’t get far so he can stand on the edge if he likes. The High Street looks like a fat black snake coiling through the centre, winding through the hills, spewing out houses and shops and lives. The rest of the scenery is breathtaking. There is no denying its stark and majestical breed of beauty. The sky is a cold pale blue and the white clouds are stretched thin like the boundaries of town are pulling them taught.
The rolling hills seem to go on forever – layered in different shades of green, decorated with clutches of woods, and sparkling with the drift of a river or stream. A song thrush calls out in the trees behind. A flock of pigeons rear up from the grass lower down and as Jesse peers over he can see a figure in dark clothes making her way up. Black hair billows out behind her. Willow.
Jesse turns and strolls into the ruins and straight into Steven and Dominic. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters as he steps back from Steven’s chest. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘Just passing the time,’ smirks Steven, narrowing his eyes. ‘Was once a time you used to hang out here with us.’
Jesse remembers those times. Smoking weed and stolen booze and smashing bottles. Spraying graffiti on the ancient stones, plotting revenge on teachers, parents and nosy neighbours. He feels faintly sick thinking about it now.
He shrugs. ‘Yeah well, times change. Thanks a lot for setting me up the other night by the way.’
Steven just grins but Dominic shrugs apologetically. ‘Sorry. Mayfield caught us smashing up the Cotton house. You know what he’s like.’
‘Yeah, I do.’ He looks at Dominic. ‘Be careful or he’ll be blackmailing you to do all sorts. Been there.’
‘Yeah, and where are you now exactly?’ ponders Steven, stepping forward. ‘I heard you’re living at the mayor’s place? I mean, shit, what the hell is that about?’
Jesse glances away to make sure Willow has not arrived yet. ‘Long story,’ he sighs.
He bites his lip and thinks the old him would have punched Steven by now. But something – everything – has changed him and he doesn’t feel the urge. He also doesn’t feel it’s right, after all, Steven and Dominic were blackmailed just how he used to be. He considers asking them to tell him what they’d been caught doing for Mayfield to blackmail them into stealing the book from Paddy’s treehouse, but he’s not sure it’s wise and besides that, he doesn’t have the energy to converse with them for much longer. He has a moment to consider how much his life has changed, when Steven shoves him in the chest.
He moves away and lifts his hands. ‘Hey, Steven.’
‘Think you’re better than us, don’t you?’ Steven sneers, pushing him again. ‘First, you’re hanging around with a bunch of losers and now you’re living the high life over there with the mayor?’ He drags his gaze up and down Jesse in slow disgust. ‘You’ve changed, Jesse.’
‘Yeah, I have,’ agrees Jesse. ‘I was a knob before. A bully, like you.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Steven shoves him harder.
‘Stop it, man.’
‘Make me!’ Steven growls and reaches for him. Jesse side steps then sticks out a foot. Steven sprawls face first into the wet grass then leaps up screaming, ‘You dirty fighter! You shitting bastard!’
‘Someone’s coming,’ Dominic mumbles from behind them.
Jesse is bored of this shit. He wants them both gone before Willow and the others arrive. He shoulders Steven roughly – enough to knock him off balance, then he shoves him again, this time sending him onto his backside.
‘Get out of here,’ he tells Dominic who does not need to be told twice. He slouches away, glancing nervously over his shoulder.
Jesse stands back, allowing Steven the space to pick himself up and dust himself off. He does, just before shouldering his way aggressively past Jesse.
‘This isn’t over. You’re a dead man, Archer.’
Jesse raises his eyebrows and watches him go. When he’s sure they have both gone and have not crossed paths with Willow, he races over to Billy’s hiding place and finds what he hoped would be there: a new stash of weed and papers in a small metal tin. Nice one Billy, he thinks with a grin.
He crouches with his back to the wall and is busy perfecting the perfect joint when Willow finally appears. At first he thinks she will judge him or scold him, but when she sees what he’s doing, she just sighs and drags a bottle out from under her cloak.
‘Vodka? Jesus Christ.’
‘My parents have had it in the cupboard for years. I figured they wouldn’t miss it and we might need it.’
Jesse is genuinely shocked. She leans on the wall beside him and stares at the bottle as if in a dream.
‘It’ll be pretty potent then,’ he comments.
She glances at him. ‘Yeah. Probably a dumb idea.’
‘Nah. Hey, I’ll definitely try some.’ He grins at her and she grins back. ‘Is this the kind of thing you and Paddy used to get up to then?’ He’s still grinning, waiting for her answer while she stares at him as if scrutinising his features.
‘No, not exactly.’
Jesse looks back at his joint and finishes it off. ‘Shame.’
‘What did they want?’ Willow asks.
He assumes she means Steven and Dominic and he is glad she doesn’t call them his friends, his gang or even his ‘old’ friends.’
He sighs and slips the roach into one end. ‘Nothing. You don’t worry about them.’
She nods and he can tell she probably wants to call them pricks or something, but she doesn’t. She sits next to him and hugs her legs.
‘Do you feel safe here? Like the treehouse?’
Jesse looks around and he supposes that he does. Not quite in the same way but there is something about it. He shrugs and nods at the same time.
‘Yeah, sort of, I think so. You?’
‘Same. I wonder if Paddy did something here too, like at the treehouse.’ Willow dangles the bottle of vodka between her knees and gazes at it. ‘God, I miss him.’
‘What would he be doing if he were here, do you think?’ asks Jesse. ‘I mean, if you’d gone missing, or someone else?’
‘Would he be trying to solve it like us, you mean?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah, I think he would. He’d be doing exactly what we’re doing. He’d probably be better at it too.’
Jesse twists the other end of the joint, sticks it between his teeth and lights up. ‘Exactly why we should keep it up,’ he says as he exhales.
‘How’s your back?’
‘It’s better. Margaret put some stuff on it and I dunno, it’s healed pretty quick.’
Willow frowns. ‘Christ Jesse, I have so many questions. And I’ve got something to show you too.’
‘We better wait for the others.’
‘I know. Is this risky for you though?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he replies. ‘She sent me back to school.’ He takes another pull on the joint and holds it for a few moments before exhaling slowly. ‘She hasn’t said I can’t see any of you either. She doesn’t have a ton of rules or anything.’
Willow looks surprised. ‘No?’
‘Nope, just chores. Lots of chores, but I don’t mind them. I’d be bored otherwise.’
Willow lowers her head. ‘We were all so worried about you.’
He nods. ‘Mayfield is the one to worry about. As far as I can tell, Margaret has some sort of hold over him. Over all of them maybe.’
‘She must have had something to do with it though,’ Willow states angrily. ‘Paddy. She did something to him. Our own fucking mayor.’
‘She’s more than a mayor,’ Jesse says as the drug seeps thickly through his body, loosening his joints and unwinding the tension. He rests his head on the mossy rocks behind. ‘She’s the town. She’s the whole goddamn town, Willow.’
‘How do we fight her then? How do we get Paddy back?’
He glances at her and sees her pale face and wide eyes. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he doesn’t think they can. At least not the Paddy she knew. He’s about to try to explain what he thinks Mayfield is when Willow starts again.
‘I think I saw him last night. Paddy. I saw something moving in my back garden from my window so I ran down and I swear I saw a black hare, just like you did. And I just felt, I don’t know, like it was him. Watching over me or something.’
‘Then what happened?’ Jesse asks.
She swallows. ‘There was this piercing howl from nearby and the hare, or whatever it was, it ran off.’
3
Jaime is glad to be walking to the ruins alone. As much as she is desperate to see the others, she can’t bear the thought of having to say it all more than once, so when she spots Ralph pushing his bike up the hill ahead of her, she breathes out in relief. She’s wearing her backpack – filled with the investigation disguised as schoolwork – and she plans to stop by the library on the way back so her excursion is not a total lie. She’s told her mother she’s going for a long ramble first, to take photos for a project and to explore.
It’s been a tense week in The Hare and Hound. Her mother’s pregnancy is exhausting her and although a lot of the staff are doing extra shifts, that has not stopped Mark from watching her almost constantly.
The change in him is palpable and odd. It makes Jaime feel uneasy whenever he’s around because it’s hard to explain or put your finger on. She doesn’t think she’d be able to articulate it enough to form any kind of actual complaint – not that she’d want to upset her mother at the moment anyway – but something has changed and she’s starting to fear that it will never change back.
She shivers just thinking about it. He’s colder, she thinks, and quieter. But it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at her.
‘Your boyfriend gone without you?’ a voice calls out from behind.
Jaime jerks to a stop and looks over her shoulder. She’s dismayed to see Bryony and Alexa skulking through the trees where Ralph caused the power cut. Jaime glances back at the hill and can’t see him anymore. She smiles weakly as the two girls strut towards her, hands shoved into the pockets of their matching denim jackets.
‘Um no,’ Jaime replies, hoping to put them off following. ‘I’m just going for a walk.’
Alexa jerks her head towards the hill. ‘Saw that chubby Maxwell kid heading up that way. Why are you hanging around him anyway? He’s in the year below!’
Bryony sniggers at this, her brow creased in mock concern as she gives Jaime the usual up and down look.
‘I don’t hang around with him,’ says Jaime, although she has no idea why she should feel the need to explain herself to these two.
‘We’ve seen you, don’t lie,’ sighs Bryony, rolling her eyes. She glances away and fixes her gaze somewhere else, giving Jaime hope that she is getting bored already.
Alexa, however, steps closer. ‘He’s got a crush on you, we reckon.’
Jaime shakes her head and stifles laugher. ‘No, he doesn’t.’
‘He does,’ insists Alexa. ‘We’ve seen him looking at you, haven’t we Bry?’
‘Yeah,’ Bryony says distractedly, still peering into the trees.
‘I suppose you could do worse,’ shrugs Alexa. ‘He’s younger and funny looking but who knows? Maybe he’ll get really hot one day, right?’
Jaime has no idea how to respond so she says nothing, biting her lip and gazing at her shoes. She doesn’t want to let on where she’s going and is considering changing direction just to avoid these two following her. They wouldn’t, would they?
Bryony tugs at Alexa’s arm. ‘Think I just saw the boys heading that way. Come on.’
Jaime breathes out slowly.
Alexa nods at her friend but narrows her eyes at Jaime. ‘Course I know who you really have a crush on, new girl.’
Jaime laughs. It’s an awkward, high-pitched sound that makes her cringe. ‘I don’t… I don’t have a crush on anyone!’
Alexa leans closer and whispers into her ear. ‘Jesse Archer.’
Jaime moves back. She can feel her cheeks flooding with heat and lets her hair fall forward to cover it, but it’s too late, Alexa has seen.
‘Knew it! Bry, I knew it! I said, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah, you said, come on. Let’s catch the boys up.’ Bryony gives Jaime a dirty look before tossing her hair and marching away.
Jaime wonders if that is it. If they have bored of her already, their short attention spans snatched away by the lure of boys. But Alexa leans close one more time.
‘You wouldn’t have a chance in hell, you know that, right?’ She pauses long enough to give Jaime yet another up-down look of disgust, before spinning on her heel and catching up with Bryony.
Jaime wanders away, shaken. She has no idea why Bryony and Alexa target her whenever they can. It’s never physical, never serious, never anything she’d bother telling anyone about. It’s always subtle, she thinks, cruel and icy comments that could be disguised as jokes. She swallows hard, blinks back tears and starts up the hill.
With the sun in her eyes, Jaime is breathless by the time she reaches the ruins. She staggers towards the wall where Ralph has propped his bike and turns the corner to find the three of them crouched around a small fire. Ralph is warming his hands and throws a huge goofy smile her way. Jaime instantly recalls what Alexa said about Ralph and her cheeks flush again. She smiles back but doesn’t make eye contact. Willow is snapping sticks and feeding them to the flames and Jesse seems to be swigging from a bottle of vodka.
‘Hey Jaime!’ he calls out when he sees her. ‘It’s party time!’
Jaime almost wants to run away. Alexa’s words are ringing in her ears and she wonders for a brief second if she should just walk away from all of this and attempt to live normally in this strange town. If Alexa has noticed her crush on Jesse, what if he has too?
They are all looking at her, so she smiles awkwardly and joins them. She pushes Alexa and Bryony away and forces herself to remember why they are all here. Paddy.
‘Where shall we start?’ Willow asks, looking between them all.
Jaime is quick to jump in. ‘Well, I think our main concern was Jesse but seeing as how he’s here and seems fine, I think I’ll go first if that’s okay with everyone?’
They all nod in solemn agreement and sit around the fire facing each other.
‘The floor is yours,’ Jesse offers with a smile.
She smiles back and pulls her backpack round in front of her. ‘The first thing to say is that I went to Maze Lane to visit Iris Cotton but her grand-daughter, Sarah-Jane, shooed me away. She said Iris is very confused and upset and needs her rest. So, that was that, but I have noticed that her son Nathan regularly does this baby singing thing at the library so I was planning on bumping into him by accident and seeing what I can find out.’
‘Good plan.’ Ralph gives her the thumbs up.
She nods in thanks and goes on. ‘So, I’ve been keeping up the investigation and making sure everything goes on the timeline and so on but I’ve had to be careful and hide it, look…’ Jaime unrolls the paper and demonstrates how the Paddy Finnis Disappearance case is hidden safely behind a history project on the Tudors.
Jesse grins his approval. ‘Very nice. Smart thinking.’
‘Brilliant,’ agrees Willow, her eyes darting over it. ‘So, your folks are still watching you like a hawk, are they?’
Jaime rolls it back up. ‘Yes, so I’m having to be very devious. Every time I go to either library I’m hiding books under books and so on. Anyway, this is the real thing I wanted to show you all.’ She takes out a notepad and unfolds a few loose pieces of paper. The others lean forward and she hands them out. ‘I photocopied them at school. I don’t think anyone saw so I was able to put the newspapers back and take these with me. They’re from the national newspapers and a few others. It took a lot of digging and reading and hiding!’ She breathes out wearily as if it tires her to remember it.
‘These are all missing people,’ says Willow, rifling through the papers and looking from hers to Ralph’s, before peering at Jesse’s.
‘Yep,’ confirms Jaime. ‘There’s at least six mentioned in those stories but there could obviously be more.’
Jesse has skim read the page in his hands. ‘They weren’t from town though?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nope, none of them. They all have a few things in common though.’ She counts them off on her fingers. ‘All young-ish, late teens to early twenties at the most. They were all hikers or walking enthusiasts. And they all vanished in this area never to be seen again.’
‘In this area?’ Ralph stares down at his paper quizzically. ‘But this report doesn’t mention the valley.’
‘No, none of them do but I marked them on a map, look.’ Jaime unfolds another piece of paper – a photocopied map of the Dorset Somerset border. She has marked six circles close to their town. ‘The circles show where each person was last seen or heard from. They were in the area but not here, not as far as we know anyway. But don’t you think it’s weird? Two teenagers vanish from the town thirty years apart and in the meantime at least six outsiders have vanished close to town.’ She looks around at their faces, each deep in thought as they re-read the reports. ‘Maybe they came here or walked through or maybe they never made it that far but it’s got to be connected for so many to vanish so close to our town… I’ll keep looking,’ she adds, quickly anxious that they’re not going to see it the way she does. ‘There could be more.’
Jesse passes the bottle to Willow and looks brightly at Jaime. ‘I think you’re right. This has to be connected. And then there’s my mum being missing too, like you said. I’ve been thinking about that.’
She breathes out in pure relief. ‘Okay, and there’s one more thing. I went through a ton of local history stuff. Births, deaths, marriages, local events, that kind of thing and I found out that Iris Cotton is related to Agnes Salter, the original owner of the original Black Hare Cottage. Cotton is her married name.’
There is a collective gasp and Jaime feels herself swell just a little in front of them. ‘Salter the witch?’ asks Jesse. ‘That’s like a local legend. You know, they burned her and her house.’
‘Same house, different woman, different time,’ replies Jaime. ‘Which is why I really do need to talk to Iris if I can.’
‘My mum delivers logs to Maze Lane,’ Ralph says then. ‘To most of the houses there because they all have open fires. I could see when their next delivery is due and I could offer to go along and help… maybe I could find a way to talk to Iris?’
The others nod firmly and Jesse pats his shoulder. ‘Sweet.’
Jaime watches Ralph grow redder as he smiles in response.
‘Good plan,’ she tells him then starts to pack away her work, just in case. ‘Now,’ she says. ‘Jesse, it’s your turn. You must tell us everything!’
Willow holds up a hand. ‘Hey, hang on, can I jump in first? I’ve got to show you something and it affects nearly all of us.’
The others swap glances and then nod warily. ‘What is it?’ Jesse asks.
Willow pulls a small pile of photos from her cloak and hands them to him. ‘Your dad was right, Jesse. Our parents did know each other. My mum’s still being weird and cagey about it all but she did finally dig these out for me.’
Jesse fans the photos out and they all lean over. He instantly points out his father who looks remarkably like him and is posing with a group of teens in Milly’s Café. ‘That’s my dad! And Willow, your mum!’ He points to a dark-haired girl and Willow nods.
‘Recognise anyone else?’
‘Is that my dad?’ breathes Ralph, his eyes wide. ‘Jesus!’
Jesse points to a girl. ‘That’s my mum!’
Jaime takes the photo when he passes it to her. She scans the faces, noting the undeniable similarities between her new friends and their parents. Jesse is already looking at the next photo.
‘My dad again,’ he confirms. ‘Wonder where that was? Looks a bit like the land near The Fort but I dunno. And there’s your mum Willow and your dad again, Ralph. Looks like they were proper friends, doesn’t it?’
‘Or maybe they weren’t but they were drawn together by a missing person, just like us?’ Jaime suggests with a shrug. She takes the photo from Jesse. ‘They all look so sad here.’
Jesse is scrutinising the final photo. ‘My mum and your mum again,’ he says to Willow.
She leans closer and presses a finger against the May Queen. ‘I think that’s your aunt, Jesse. That’s Carol-Anne. Look at her face and your mum’s face. Don’t you think that could be her?’
‘I’ll have to ask my dad.’ Jesse holds it up, lost for a moment as he stares into a past he never knew existed. ‘But yeah, they look alike, don’t they?’
‘None of them want to talk about it,’ says Willow, pulling up her legs and wrapping her arms around them. ‘I’ll try but I don’t think I’ll get much more out of my mum.’
‘My mum didn’t know much,’ adds Ralph. ‘She said my dad was older than her and when she met him he wasn’t hanging around with anyone.’
‘What can it mean?’ asks Jaime. ‘All I can think is Carol-Anne went missing just like Paddy and your parents tried to find her but for some reason, don’t remember? Or don’t want to talk about it?’
‘It might not mean much at all,’ sighs Jesse, passing the last photo to Jaime, who is now holding all three. ‘What we do know is this. I had an aunt that went missing and that, I dunno, affected my mum, I guess, made her crazy, my dad said. Eventually she couldn’t cope with it all and ran off. No one ever talks about any of it. I mean, I guess I could try and show him these, see if it gets him talking?’
Jaime promptly hands them back.
‘Take them,’ nods Willow. ‘Show him if you get the chance. Now, come on. Your turn.’
4
Ralph sits with his legs crossed the way they make you during school assembly. He’s wearing cargo trousers that are smeared with dirt and grass stains from a morning gardening for Eugenie Spires. He feels lucky that he got away when he did – he had a feeling as soon as he was done his mother would ship him off to Mayor Sumner’s for more work, but she was taking a long bubble bath and reading a novel. She said they’d both worked hard all week so deserved a break. She gave him her blessing to meet his friends and didn’t ask where.
Ralph squirms now with doubt and fear. Maybe he should have lied. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the others. But his mother trusts him and it seems Mayor Sumner has also placed a certain amount of trust in Jesse.
‘From the beginning!’ Jaime is urging. ‘From when they drove you off!’
Jesse sits with his knees up and his elbows resting loosely on them. He looks cleaner and brighter than normal and his clothes are washed and uncrumpled. He’s wearing dark jeans, black boots and a checked flannel shirt over a black t-shirt. His nails are clean and his hair is brushed: it would appear that the mayor is being a good foster parent so far.
He lowers his head slightly but keeps his eyes on them as he speaks. Ralph attempts to read the expression on his face and the closest he can get is that Jesse looks fierce.
‘Okay. When we got to the mayor’s house, something really weird happened. Something scary. It was really fucking scary.’ He stares at them each in turn as if keen to impress this upon them. ‘It was the worst bit but I swear since then, nothing else has happened and it’s just been… I dunno, weirdly okay. I’m still getting used to having a room all to myself and three decent meals but every time I think about what happened first I feel sick and shaky. So, I’ll tell you.’ He glances around again, his eyes narrow and suspicious as if he fears they are being spied on. ‘Even if it messes things up for me,’ he adds.
They wait, breath held. Ralph’s hands are on his knees and he can feel his fingers slowly curling, digging in, holding on. Jesse clears his throat.
‘Inside her kitchen is this big larder, one of those walk-in things, like a whole extra room full of food.’ He swallows. ‘And they took me straight in there, still handcuffed, and there was this other door at the back which led down to some sort of cellar, I guess, under the house. It was dark until they lit a lantern but it was weird too, like there was this weird energy.’ He pauses for a moment, swallowing again and focusing on the ground. His expression is intense, as if he is conjuring the images in his head. ‘It was like it felt alive down there, like it was electric or something. I’ve never felt anything like it. There was a really terrible smell too, really strong. I’m still not sure what it was but…’ He stops again, wrinkling his nose and licking his lips at the memory.
‘What sort of smell?’ Willow asks softly.
‘I don’t know…’ Jesse lifts his head, gazes at the sky above them. ‘Sort of hot and like something old and rotten but a bit like something awful had been cooked or boiled. It was just horrible. Anyway, it was cold too and I could see mist around my feet like I did when I tried to run away. And yeah, just the energy, guys… All my hairs stood on end and I had goosebumps all over! Margaret said it was the ley lines. You guys ever heard of them?’
Willow nods instantly. ‘Sure. Not everyone believes in them but they’re meant to be ancient lines crisscrossing the country. Maybe due to trade or to reach sacred monuments but no one knows for sure. You can’t see them.’
He nods at her. ‘She seemed to believe all right. She said several ley lines converged in the cellar where we were standing and that made the energy so strong there. I couldn’t see too well because of the shadows but I looked around and I could see little rooms, like cells.’ He swallows again and scratches quickly at the back of his neck.
The others swap looks. Willow reacts by drinking more vodka then passing the bottle to Jaime, who almost passes it on, then stops, shrugs and takes a tiny sip, before making a face and giving it to Ralph.
‘Cells?’ Willow is the only one brave enough to prompt him.
His eyes are fixed on the fire. ‘Maybe. I could see bars anyway and I thought, I mean I can’t be sure because it was so dark and I was so shit scared by this point, thinking they were literally about to murder me, so I don’t know, but I thought I saw something in one of those little rooms. I thought I saw bones. Like, this little pile of bones.’
‘Animal bones?’ Ralph asks in a voice that comes out far too high. He coughs and feels his face grow red.
‘Maybe,’ Jesse replies quickly, with a half-smile. He shakes himself. ‘Anyway, the whole thing was a warning. They wanted to show me my options, they said. I couldn’t leave town, they said, or I’d end up down there and when I said, do you mean dead? They laughed and said it’s not death exactly, it’s more like a rebirth.’ Jesse moves his knees together and hugs them. He’s shivering.
‘Jesus…’ Willow murmurs, glancing away.
Ralph gazes into the bottle of vodka then slowly lifts it to his lips. He lets a small amount drip down his throat and winces at the burn.
‘They joked,’ Jesse says in a low voice, ‘about what they could turn me into.’
Willow sits up straighter. ‘Shit.’
‘Then that was it. They told me not to ask any questions and took me back to the kitchen and Margaret made Mayfield leave, so he did. It’s like she has power over him.’
‘Rebirth…’ whisper Willow as Ralph passes the bottle to Jesse. She’s sitting cross-legged with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. ‘What if it’s possible? Say it’s possible. They were threatening to do to you what they must have done to Paddy.’ She looks up right at Jesse. ‘And a black hare helped you, took you to the treehouse and I saw it last night.’ She stares pointedly at the others. ‘I saw it in my garden. Then there was this awful howl nearby and it took off. I felt like it was Paddy. Like he was trying to tell me something.’
Jaime sputters and holds up a hand. ‘Wait. Wait.’
‘It’s got to be!’ Willow goes on, her voice rising. ‘Don’t you see? You must be able to see? It all makes sense. Mayfield, he can turn into something; a wolf or something, something that clawed at Jesse’s back. And, and Iris! The white hare, Jaime! We both saw her and then her house burned down again and… and… she was on the committee and she left the book for Paddy, see?’ She unfolds her arms and claps her hands together, making them all jump. Her face is flushed with excitement. ‘Oh my god, oh my fucking god! They’re witches or something! They’re monsters and they’re doing all this! The missing people! Jaime?’ Willow leans forward to grab her hand. ‘You must be able to see!’
Jaime is shaking her head as she slowly withdraws her hand. ‘No, no, wait. I mean, wait. What are you actually saying?’
Willow leans closer to her. ‘That there is something very wrong here. It’s not just abduction or murder, it’s more than that, it’s whatever powers these people have got… I just can’t…’ Willow bites her lip, frowning deeply, shaking her head until finally she drops it into one hand. ‘Oh, Paddy. Poor Paddy. What did they do to him? We have to find him and help him!’
Ralph sits in silence. Thoughts pop in and out of his head in split seconds, bouncing around and refusing to connect. There is a tense silence between them where he finds it almost impossible to lift his head and look at them all. When he does, he sees intense excitement, fear and anger splashed across Willow’s tightened features. Jesse appears to be the calmest but Ralph supposes he’s known the darkness surrounding them for the longest. Ralph gets the feeling there is still a lot Jesse holds back until he feels they are ready to catch up. As for Jaime, she’s shocked and white and staring at the flames as if she hopes to find an answer there,
‘Wait,’ she says again, waving one hand limply. ‘Just hang on. None of this can be real.’ She finally looks at Willow and Ralph can see tears in her eyes. ‘Can it?’
5
Willow takes both of her hands and squeezes them. She’s wired with adrenalin but looks at Jaime with nothing but pity. She can’t really get her head around it either but everything adds up and she can’t escape it or deny it. It’s not just everything she said or everything Jesse has relayed or Jaime has discovered; it’s more than that. It’s the dull throb of absolute certainty she felt when she saw the hare. She knows it was Paddy.
‘It’s okay,’ she tries to tell Jaime. ‘It’s okay.’
Jaime just keeps shaking her head. She’s blinking back tears but one escapes and rolls down her cheek. Willow can see the turmoil unfolding inside of her. She slips an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close.
‘Come on, let’s leave it for now. What else can we do about it right now anyway?’
Jaime is silent. Jesse cheers and passes on the bottle.
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘I say let’s have some fun. Let’s muck about for a while. I think we need it.’ He uses the wall to help him to his feet then stares at them, grinning.
‘But a plan,’ Jaime looks up at him. ‘We still need a plan.’
‘Let us know when you think of one,’ Jesse replies and holds a hand out to her.
Willow knows Jaime will take it and she does, a shy smile breaking out on her face as she reaches up tentatively and is pulled to her feet by Jesse’s tug.
‘Come on,’ Jesse says, pulling Jaime with him and snatching up Willow’s hand too. ‘There’s something I like to do.’
They follow him to the other side, where beyond the higher walls, the outskirts of the valley roll away before them. They can almost feel the earth rolling gently under their feet in an ever undulating wave towards the glistening river.
Jesse breaks free and lies down on the grass with his arms wrapped around his body. ‘Follow me!’ he yells and before anyone can question, he is off, rolling rapidly down the hill, bumping and spinning over grassy slopes and hillocks.
‘He’ll kill himself!’ Jaime gasps, but Willow is already lying down, compelled by the urge to be moving along with the land, to be part of it and to not lose Jesse. She feels drawn to his still rolling figure, bellowing laughter as he goes.
She pushes off and feels herself flying. Her bones thud and jar but every now and then she is in the air, weightless, and the world is turning over her again and again, blue then green, then blue, then green then suddenly she slows and rolls to a stop. The land rises up, creating a ridge – a protective barrier saving them at the last moment from an icy drench in the river,
Willow looks for Jesse and finds him sitting further along, rubbing his shoulders and grinning wildly.
‘That was amazing!’ she tells him breathlessly. ‘That was terrifying!’
‘I know!’ He looks back up the hill and they watch Ralph, then Jaime start to roll. They seem to be rolling impossibly fast, just blurs of colour plummeting towards them and then, just when it seems they will crash into them and shatter their bones, they start to slow, eventually rolling slowly up against the ridge before finally stopping.
They sit up, wincing and laughing and checking their limbs for damage. Willow laughs and drops back in the grass. She feels something she has not felt since Paddy vanished. She feels love. And hope.
Thanks for reading!
Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this latest chapter.
NOTE: Please remember this is NOT the finished version of Black Hare Valley Book 1. This book has not been to my editor yet or even my beta readers. There will be typos, grammatical mistakes, and sentences that need rewriting.
COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Twenty-Three “The Raven”
It’s coming up two years since I joined the writing platform Medium. For years, various author friends had mentioned it, enthused about it and encouraged me to join, but I resisted because I didn’t think I had the time. Almost two years ago a writer friend messaged me again after reading one of my blogs and finally persuaded me to join Medium by asserting that my blog topics and style were just the sort of thing that did well on Medium.
I gave in and joined and I quickly discovered he was right! Once I had joined the Partner Programme and was eligible to earn from my essays, articles, stories and poems, I found the boosts, the positive comments and the money came flowing in.
I was overjoyed. I felt validated. I felt like a real writer.
You’d think that after 12 years of publishing and 23 books released, I’d feel like a real writer, but the truth is, I don’t. Not much has changed for me during those 12 years. I have never had the spare money to throw at advertising my books, but I have done everything they tell you to do to get your books noticed. One of the main pieces of advice I recall reading at the time, was to get on with writing the next book, because once you have more books out there, it all gets easier.
I have never found that to be true. From the moment I published The Mess of Me in 2013, to the moment I released its sequel The Mess Of Us in 2025, I have made a few sales a month. Yes, some months are better than others, and I have never, ever had a month without sales. I am told that for an indie author with no advertising budget, that is not too shabby. And I do agree – with the billions of other books to compete with out there and the social media algorithms wanting you to pay to be seen, it is extremely hard to get sales and make it.
A few years back I reached out to some successful indie authors to ask what their secret was. The answer was not surprising – money. These authors were able to spend hundreds of pounds marketing their books at the start and now they don’t have to. They’ve made a name for themselves, and gained a loyal following.
I am constantly shouting into the abyss, despite how hard I work, despite how many books I write and publish, despite overwhelmingly positive reviews and a handful of awards… I cannot do any better. I am stuck right where I was at the start.
So, although I am still as addicted to writing as ever, and I will never stop as long as I have these ideas in my head, I am honestly hard-pressed to feel like a real writer most days. It doesn’t help that my close family and friends don’t give a shit and refuse to do the one thing they could do to support me in my life.
You can imagine how elated I felt when Medium started rewarding me so quickly. I was so happy! People were reading and commenting on my work. I was getting boosted regularly. Somehow, I was doing it right! And I was getting paid! I was making extra money, more than I had dreamed of to be honest. It made a massive difference to our finances and I even started thinking about putting some away and using it to better market my books.
Then in January, everything changed.
No one knows why and as far as I can tell, the answers are still not terribly forthcoming. Views, reads and earnings plummeted. At the same time, AI slop, bots, scammers and spammers were going through the roof and basically ruining it for everyone. Some say the drop in earnings is a reflection of Medium getting to grips with all that… But I don’t know.
I wasn’t too bad off in January because I’d been boosted a few times in December. January was awful. I barely made anything, and February was even worse. No boosts – which is a shame but not the be all and end all. I once made $15 on a short story that wasn’t boosted. It would take me a long time to make $15 from my books. No kidding.
By the time March arrived I felt like giving up. Millions of writers had jumped ship to Substack and I did the same, though I kept my Medium account. I still posted in February, but not as much. I suppose I had a crisis of confidence. I kept taking it personally. What had I done wrong? Had my writing declined in quality? Was the stuff I wrote just not wanted anymore? I still can’t figure it out.
Substack is great, by the way, and is shaping up to be one of my favourite places to hang out. It’s newsletters, any kind of writing, and social media all wrapped up in one. It took me a little while to get myself settled in, but at the moment I am posting an end of the month author newsletter, an end of the week round-up, and any poems or short stories I would normally put on Medium, I now put on Substack first.
Substack is a lot of fun but it is not as easy to make money there. Money is raised from having paid subscribers. I feel grateful enough to have any subscribers, whether there or here on my trusty old blog. To ask them to pay seems a lot.
I’ve set mine up for paid but have no paid subs yet and I don’t expect to get any for a long time. Still, I am happy to have almost 100 subscribers who I really hope are genuinely interested in me and my books. Let’s see what happens.
Back to Medium – I am not ready to give up on it just yet. It was foolish to ever rely on it for an income, and I didn’t, not really. It was just very handy extra money that made life easier for a bit. I am hanging around to see what happens, and like everyone else, I guess I am trying to crack the code again.
I decided to up my game in March and my content has increased back to my usual levels. It’s not making a difference so far and at this rate it is soon going to be hard to recoup the $5 you pay to be a member.
It makes me feel sad, in all honesty. All I ever wanted in my life was to be a writer. I am a writer and on good days I am incredibly proud of myself, my books, and the work I put in. I couldn’t give up writing, if I tried. It’s just what I do. It’s who I am.
But for a while there, Medium made me feel like a real writer. You know, someone whose words get read by hundreds, if not thousands of people. Someone who uses writing money to pay the bills. It was nice while it lasted but now I am right back where I began.
There had to be an answer somewhere. I guess I will keep on looking.
Giving up is not an option. And for all its faults and ups and downs, I will continue to publish writing on Medium. Writing there has given me an outlet for other types of work, such as essays, articles and poems, and like I always tell the kids I work with, writing in many formats and writing as often as you can, is how you get better.