Some Other Traveller by Lyn McConchie

 

Today we welcome author Lyn McConchie to the blog as she shares an excerpt from her post-apocalyptic book Some Other Traveller and gives us insight into a day in her life as an author. Be sure to follow the tour for even more as well as bonus chances to enter the giveaway!

When the world’s civilizations collapse from a lethal pandemic, being old can mean you have the experience and wisdom to survive and to see that friends and family do as well. Donal and Sheila McArn are seventy when most of the world is dying, and they must hold the line for everything they know. They may not have long, but so long as they live, they’re going to do their best – and anyone against them had better step back. NOW!

Read an excerpt:

Kaylie died an hour later. Ricky had all his things packed by then, Donal had dug a small grave, and we placed her in that, the teddy bear – a bright pink one that Ricky said she still loved – tucked in beside her. After that, he clung to my hand.

I drove home, and when I would have left the lad with Janet, he clung to me like a limpet, his eyes wide in fear of losing someone else. I put him to bed in the spare room, slept in the bed opposite, and took him with me the next morning. Janet took the accumulated cash, along with a list and several friends, utes, and her car with a trailer. We removed the Black and McMallan animals, several small portable sheds, and salvaged useful items from houses and outbuildings. During which time Ricky was never out of eyeshot, and when my hands weren’t employed, he clung to one of them.

We drove home to eat dinner, I put him to bed, and when he asked, I answered, “Yes, this is your room now. You’ll go to school here once it opens again. The place is called Glen Mhairi. It’ll be your home.” And then the tentative question that almost broke my heart. “Aye, you can call us Grandma and Grandpa if you want. We’d like that.” He fell asleep still trustfully holding my hand, and as I looked at that peaceful face, I knew the truth.

After all those years and with never a child of our own, we finally had a grandson.

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A day in the life of this author.

I regularly forget the date. Why? Because I’m also a farmer and my small farm requires attention twenty-four/seven. So there’s little to remind me of the date. The day, yes. Monday/Tuesday and Thursday/Friday I write; the date often has no relevance to what I’m doing. But doing both jobs, often requiring that I try to fit two days’ work into one, can be – hectic, funny, upsetting, involving, and; some of the things on the farm can cross over into my writing (As can my cats and my friends, and my friend’s cats…) That’s the thing about writers, all is grist to our mill. My most recent published book, Some Other Traveller, attracted both a friend and her alpacas into the story. The book I’ve currently just finished sucked in a local dog – a massive black beast whose looks belie his gentleness.

But a day in my life can hold a lot of events. That morning was the bad, the good – and the “this will keep you occupied for days.” I rose at 6:00a.m., breakfast, out to feed the livestock. As I did so, I discovered my place was white with frost. Urk, first front for winter and it’s early. I shot back inside, stoked the fire vigorously, and got on with Some Other Traveller. Followed three hours later by the good when the geese announced that not only was the mail-car here, it was spending time. An indication Tracey was unloading parcels. Continuing goose commentary suggests she’s unloading a lot of parcels. I whizzed out, yes indeed. Five parcels of books crammed into my mailbox. I beamed, that would be the third on my list; “this will keep you occupied for days.” Back to my book. Two hours later as I completed, “Oh, heck, the world’s about to end, we don’t feel fine and we’re seventy,” why is this happening to us? I realized it was cold.

I trot out to the woodshed, collect a massive armload of wood, and scuttle back into again. That had been an earlier item on the “good” list. My firewood merchant – like most people in a rural area, a personal friend too – worried I might freeze if distancing or zones lasted too long and I ran out of firewood, delivered all my ordered firewood in two massive lots. That left me with eight cords, enough to see me through for months. I stoke the fire, shut the dampers down, and return to Some Other Traveller. Until the phone rings. The meter-reader, “I’ll be at the gate in a minute.” Right. Go outside, watch him pull up, bellow “Stand down” to the geese, the meter is read, he departs and I go back to the book. “The motor-bike thieves made a mistake in assuming Sheila was the nice old lady she appeared. Guns, bodies, investigating what they may have as stolen goods in their rooms in the boarding house”… Stoke the fire again and have a late (very) lunch.

I’m tiring. Creativity, no problem. Physical energy, nope (I’m 76 and crippled from an accident in 1977.) “But there’s strange sounds and something in a wardrobe”…The geese sound off; I glance at the clock. Oh, dinner time for them all. Amble out and feed 20 hens, 8 geese, and Daisy Duck. And that’s writing for the day. I’m so wiped out I’m having to think about each step I take as I start dinner. I eat that, and retire to bed at eight p.m. with one of the new books. Another day in my life is over. It’s been a productive one, over 20 pages written, the meter was been read, the hens laid nine eggs, and I’m going to sleep very well tonight.

About the author:
Lyn McConchie started writing in 1990 and within a year had short stories and poems published. In 1993, her first book – a humorous true-life work (Farming Daze) about her farm, friends, and animals appeared – this was followed by six others in that series. As a joke between them, a long-time friend of Lyn’s, Andre Norton, was given a book Lyn had written set in one of Andre’s worlds. Andre was impressed with the work and took it to her agents who sold it to Warner books. This led in turn to Lyn writing another six books in Andre’s worlds, which were published either by Warner or TOR. Lyn has won seven short story Muse Medallions from the (International) Cat Writer’s Association, and six Sir Julius Vogel Awards for her books. Since the original book, Lyn has seen almost fifty more books appear plus over three hundred short stories, and says she has no intention of stopping so long as she is able to write.


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