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Many people have told me how they like to read the opening few paragraphs of books before buying.

So, here is the opening to mine, 'Drystone - A Life Rebuilt' which will be available for pre-order early 2025 and then released in August.

I'm a first time author, so shares mean a lot and I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts.

#Writing #NatureWriting #Books #Bookstodon #Scotland #Caithness #Bookworm #Reading
I was eight years old when our mum moved us from one end of Scotland to the other. From Jedburgh, where you cross the border to England, to Thurso, where you catch the boat to Orkney. I don’t know what mum saw in Caithness, but I suspect it was just as far as she could go without leaving the country. Caithness is flat and vast and lies prostrate to a wind pushed inland by the thuggish North Sea. A wind that reminds anything attempting to grow that it should perhaps reconsider. On the heaths and moors, plants have no choice but to stay close to the ground and each other. Even in July, when the rest of Scotland is dressed by the full flair of summer, the Flow Country is understated. Thriving in the nutrient-poor soil, bog asphodel, myrtle and bean hide among heather and peat. In the skies above these rare blanket bogs, golden plover and greenshank float silently on warm air and mottled wings. On the coast, the sandstone shark fins of Duncansby Stacks ward off all but the most determined travellers. The Borders are Scotland at its most pastoral, but Caithness akin to a moonscape. I had never seen anything like it. On either side of a road, cutting long and straight through an expansive moorland, people stood in smoke and flames, soft-edged silhouettes as they beat the ground around them with huge paddles. Muirburn, the controlled burning of heather. It felt ancient, apocalyptic. Last paragraph missing as no room for all the text.
#writing #books #reading #bookstodon #scotland #bookworm #naturewriting #caithness
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