Back again

It’s been awhile–partly due the busy-ness of my “day” job, and partly because I’ve been doing other  things–in order to get “Passionate Hero”  out there.  I’m aware that I enjoyed writing it and put it out on Kindle–in the hope that some others  might  enjoy reading it, too.

And of course with a million plus books on Amazon/Kindle–some actual novels written by well known writers–there hasn’t been  a  flurry of attention paid to “Passionate Hero” .  I tell myself–that’s to be expected–and really I just want to call people’s attention to the fact that it’s there–if it interests them.    Julie M. Rodriguez  worked with me as a consultant/editor on “Passionate Hero” (I put her name on the book because without her, I never would have gotten it  finished in a readable form).   Younger than I am ( most people seem to be these days!),  she  really liked the story herself, and assured me that she saw it an appealing to all ages.  That was certainly helpful, as I was afraid it’s nostalgic vent–the idea of looking back to a childhood cowboy for “advice”–might rule  out anyone younger.

And so where to go from here?   I’ll continue putting “Passionate Hero” out there, of course.  And I need another focus. Once more Julie has come to my rescue. She suggests–getting started on my next novella.  Even before I  put  “PH” on Kindle, I had decided on writing a series of novellas based on the organization that the heroine Marcy Wilkins works for.  It’s the Kootenai Brown Personal Advertising Agency, where the staff help their clients: “Be all  they can be…and let the world know.”    In Marcy’s case, she’s on the edge, needing help herself to be all she can be.  And thus, a  Trickster–type character,  Adolphus Cornelius Cartwight–ACC- sends her a computer worm… which allows her to  become  involved  in her cowboy hero’s world, and she in his–and she learns what she needs to know.

In the next novella, the heroine who needs ACC’s help –at least at this time– will be Connie Butt,  a mousy Charlotte Bronte-type character.   She’s a  “failed” writer–unable to make a living writing; but she writes well, can boost others, do good copy for them; and so she’s perfect working for KB, bringing out the best in others and letting the world know.  But when it comes to her own life–putting herself forward as the writer she longs to be–Connie is at a loss.  She hides behind others and is afraid of being found out–for the fraud that she feels she is.  (I came up with such clear ideas after a consultation session with Julie–I’d highly recommend a consultant or someone to bounce ideas off–it’s so important for me…)

Connie’s hero will be more classic, though troubled–like Rochester, or  the Cyrano de Begerac  character.  Dashing–but haunted; swashbuckling but a poet/philosopher who’s haunted by this own imperfections, and the corruption of the world around him.  I have some ” ideas”  about him, but I have not put the flesh and bones on him–to make him a real character, someone who is alive, acting and responding  in the world around him.  To get from “ideas” to a solid flesh and blood character–that for me is the real challenge in writing

Just some thoughts

Thanks for reading

M.C. Piper


A thanks…some NEWS…and an odd thing that happened..

First of all, I want to thank my friend, Eileen, for the story that she put on my blog. It’s a story from her heart, written about getting the news of  father’s death;and the image of her mother doing the unthinkable–ripping apart the baby’s flannel nightgown–is so powerful, so evocative…that’s what writing’s all about… And…

And I also have some news..!Image

“WANTED:PASSIONATE  HERO, Experience Preferred ” is now in Kindle Books…Just go to Amazon/Kindle, type in the title and it’s there. It’s hard for me to believe !

A reminder about the story: In the middle of a job crisis, Marcy Wilkins finds herself  watching her childhood cowboy hero, Trace Gallant  on You Tube.   Imagine her surprise when a computer worm allows her to enter Trace’s world; and then allows Trace, the villain Grimley St.Clair, and the saloon girl Lili  to enter hers.  Trace agrees to teach Marcy what it means to be a hero in her own life…though what works in Trace’s world doesn’t always work in hers…and he does help her–very much so…with some surprising input from Lili.  It’s a fun read, with gentle humour and a lot of heart…

Hope you take a look!

And finally anyone who’s been following me from the beginning may notice–that there’s been a slight change in my cowboy hero’s name.  It was originally “Trey Gallant”.  However when I goggled Trey Gallant I discovered that there’s a writer using that name–a writer’s whose works–I’m not at all comfortable with–and  I don’t want anyone  thinking there might be some sort of connection between him and this story.  Thus the name change…It’s a fairly minor change; and I was glad when my editor Julie M. Rodriguez approving  the change, added  that she’d have trouble thinking of  the main character by his new name–as will I. She also pointed out that when giving a new character a name–best to google it first!  Something I never thought about but will certainly do next time…

Thanks for reading

M.C. Piper

The Flannel Nighgown ( Here it is…no edits)




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The Flannel Nightgown


It was such an extravagant act – that ripping apart of the babies’ flannel

gown. It had been hanging on the clothesline strung across the kitchen, where

clothes were brought back in, now in a “frozen state”, from the out-door lines and hung

again to finally finish drying

         There were often many little nighties and diapers drying inside our kitchen as there were twin babies going through them overwhelmingly fast for the mother who had 6 other children to care for. This all done without any support, as her husband

was mostly working far from home in some under ground mine or another, in one province or another.

          This fateful morning when Aunt Rose arrived at our door escorted by

a very official looking  policeman with his bright yellow stripe down his

pant-leg.  As a child of not quite 7 years, the last time there had been a

policeman at my door, he had come to take our dog away because the neighbours had

complained he had been a disturbance.  I am now alerted to something not pleasant

occurring in the room.


        I see my Aunt place her hand on my mother’s arm.  This is

Unusual; my Aunt is not, as a rule, affectionate toward my mother, “The English War


Now I see my Mother’s shoulders wracking with sobs as she hears what they

say to her. I’m wondering who will they be taking away from our house this


The ripping of the nightgown I now realize was not an act of complete

disregard for waste. I knew that we didn’t have quite enough of them.  It was an

act of anguish, and such great shock to hear that the man she had crossed the

ocean for, the father of her eight children was killed that morning while

working in that underground mine so far away in Ontario.

My Mother could not find

a handkercheif and in her utter grief chose one of those nightgowns….and I was to never forget the sound of that ripping or the sight of it.

This act would punctuate many events in the following years of my life, while I grew up in rural Saskatchewan, as one of eight children of a widow in a “Foreign Land”.