Name James Michaels
Age 43
Where are you from Weiser, Idaho
A little about your self `ie your education Family life etc I am a 100% disabled combat veteran from Iraq. I proudly served with the 101st Airborne (Air Assault) during my time over in Iraq. I feel strongly about our veterans and support each and every one of them in any way I can. I am married to my beautiful wife, Tharesa, (yes it is spelled that way), I have three wonderful children and we have our little buddies that keep our life interesting. My little Bear is my constant companion and is my PTSD service dog (unofficially) as I cannot afford to get him certified but he performs his role as though he had all the training in the world. We live on a 7.5 acre plot with a 110 tree orchard and our dream house. We may have bitten off more than we can chew with this place financially but we love it here and are fighting to keep it through all sorts of battles with the government. We have a horse, Buttons, which was given to us as a therapy horse. Never realized how expensive a horse was!!
My Little Buddy Bear
Fiona: Tell us your latest news?
I just released my debut novel “Blood Borne; Rise of Alpha” with the release party on October 4, 2014. I am super excited about this release, as this novel has been in the works for the last several years. I suffered from absolute self doubt that my work would not be received well by others and would flop, bad. To say that I am overwhelmed by all of the positive things people are saying about my novel is the understatement of the year.
Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?
After I started suffering from TBI and PTSD, my mind began to not work right. I was having severe problems with finding words in normal conversations and my frustration level increased by the day as I struggled to even communicate properly. I had always dabbled in writing poetry and had even started a novel before but had never let anyone else read what I had written. One night, my wife finally got me to let her read what I had written and she LOVED it. She encouraged me to finish my novel so I did. The interaction between the story and myself allowed me to lose myself in another world which helped tremendously with my, what I call my word problem, and diminished my frustration level somewhat. I very much enjoy losing myself in the worlds I create.
Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?
LOL! I still have a hard time considering myself as a writer. Seems surreal sometimes when I realize that I have written a novel and a short story that are actually published. If I had to put a date on it, it would be when I received such great feedback from Monique back in April of this year. That is when I came to accept that my work was good enough to entertain people.
Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?
My wife. She told me I had a gift and that I should use it. I dug in and decided to write my heart out and see where the chips fell. Lucky for me, the chips fell in Monique’s lap and I feel very fortunate to have her in my corner.
Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style?
I use what I call my “creative” writing to plow through writing a book. That is where I just write and not pay attention to grammatical errors, punctuation, mistakes or anything else other than just getting the story from my mind to the computer. When I first started writing, I spent so much time worrying about mistakes that I soon became frustrated and would quit writing. That was getting me nowhere so I developed this approach and it has worked very well for me thus far.
Fiona: How did you come up with the title?
The first part of the title, “Blood Borne” I owe to the help of my good friend, Heath Stallcup. His tutelage throughout this whole process has been invaluable. The second part of the title, “Rise of Alpha” just kind of came to me. The nemesis in the book to the main character is called Alpha and his rise to power throughout the book seemed fitting to characterize in the title.
Fiona: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
This is a complete work of fiction thus there really is no real message yet the trials the characters go through in the story force them to do things they normally would not do. People need to know that if the world or the situation in which they live really does fall apart, they may be forced to do things they could not imagine doing now in the comfort of their homes. Hard decisions come with hard times. I also highlighted the faith the main character had in God and how his actions sometimes were in conflict with what he was forced to do to keep his family and those counting on him safe. It is easy to armchair quarterback but when you find yourself in such a situation, you realize it is not so easy to decide the correct course of action.
Fiona: How much of the book is realistic?
I tried to make the book as realistic as possible. The weapons, tactics, equipment, all were done with care to keep it as close to real life as possible. Of course, the bad guys are not real, thank God, but how the characters deal with them is very realistic. Even the preparedness shown in the story is very realistic and reflects a goal I intend to get to one day.
Fiona: Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?
I based the main character after myself and the lessons I learned over in Iraq fighting that war. I was an Infantry Officer so my involvement in combat operations was extensive. I modeled how the character reacted and thought base upon those experiences.
Fiona: What books have most influenced your life most?
I loved reading the “Mars” series by Edgar Rice Burroughs when I was a teenager. I have also read every single one of Louis L’Amour’s books at least twice and sometimes more. The “Walking Drum” is a favorite of mine and I am sad that the sequel died with Louis.
Fiona: If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?
The two authors that have mentored me through this whole process have been Heath Stallcup and John O’Brien. They took the time to talk to an unknown and help me to keep motivated when I wanted to just quit. I owe both men a huge debt of gratitude.
Fiona: What book are you reading now?
“A New World: Storm” by John O’Brien.
Fiona: Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest?
Shaun Harbinger, Derrick LaCombe, Michael Clary, Ian Woodhead, and Johnathan S. Davis.
Fiona: What are your current projects?
I am currently working on building a rolling toolbox out of wood. I can’t afford a real one so I decided to build one out of wood. I am also working on a couple of other novels; a murder mystery and a collaboration with Monique Lewis Happy, Tracey Fitzgerald Poist and Cindy Hernandez.
Fiona: Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.
God. He has always been with me in war, divorce, recovery and everyday life. He is my rock.
Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?
Yes. Due to my injuries, I can’t do anything else so writing it is…
Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?
No. Overall, I am very happy with the way it turned out and am excited to see what others think of it as well. Maybe I would choose to write it faster but that is about it.
Fiona: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
I do not recall. I was just always intrigued by the way the formation of words by a skilled author could bring to light in your mind’s eye what the author wanted you to see. I wanted to be able to one day do the same and I hope I have.
Fiona: Can you share a little of your current work with us?
Sure. Here is an excerpt from the collaboration novel I am working on.
Cries of pain and anguish filled the halls of the Royal keep. All who heard sent a silent prayer for their beloved Queen Patricia as she endured the torment of birthing a child. Sweat poured down her face causing errant hair to stick to the sides of her beautiful features. Hands gripping the sides of her birthing table, the Queen’s body shook once again as a new contraction enveloped her already exhausted frame. The scream, that started deep inside of her and low, burst forth from her cracked and dry lips causing all to flinch at the sheer volume. Panting as though her very life was leaving her, she bore down as she bit her lower lip drawing blood in an effort to push the baby forth and end her torment. Shaking her head side to side, sweat droplets flew through the air to land where they may. Eyes bulging from the pain deep inside of her, all the sound she could utter as she pushed was a low moan that was filled with longing for the agony her body was in to finally end. Toes curled up with in an effort to put more power into her pushing to expel the now forthcoming new life, she arched her back for one final push. Bursting forth in a spray of blood and viscera, the Queen heard for the first time the cries of her newborn son, the first of the line for her King to carry on the family name and heir to the throne. After two previous tries, the King finally had his male heir to his throne.
The moment the midwife placed the beautiful baby in her arms, all of the previous pain the Queen had endured melted away in an instant. Immediately, she placed the babe on her breast to feed as she rejoiced at his perfect little body. Red faced from crying, the boy had the strong looks of his father with her eyes. Lovingly, she stroked his little head wiping away the residue of his birth. Suddenly his little hands reached up and gripped his mother’s finger. She marveled at how strong he was just out of the womb as his grip was solid and true. Gently, she pried the little warrior’s fingers from hers and continued to gently clean him for she did not want his father’s first impression of his newborn son, his only son, to be that of a babe still covered in gore from his recent birth. As she cleaned, her hands also felt for any abnormalities in his limbs and joints, ensuring that he was indeed her perfect little angel. Satisfied that he was indeed whole and without deformities, the Queen lay back and let her son finish his first meal out of the womb. When his suckling began to diminish, she covered herself, dismissed the midwives and called for her most trusted bodyguard, Jancar, to enter.
Jancar, the Captain of the Guard as well as her personal watcher, entered the birthing chamber. Originally from Gaul, Jancar was a mountain of a man. Standing at 6 feet 5 inches, he was the epitome of a Gaulish warrior. Black hair, bound in a braided pony tail in traditional Gaulick warrior fashion, ran down his back. That was where his similarities to his Gaul background ended. In accordance with his adopted country, Jancar wore his facial hair short. Sharp grey eyes took in the entire scene before him in which he subconsciously scanned for threats to his Queen. Thick chest muscles rippled as he strode into the room with confident and sure strides that bespoke of a warrior of great renown. A face that looked to be chiseled from stone softened as he took in his Queen and her newborn son sitting safe and sound before him.
“You summoned me, my Queen?” Jancar questioned as he bowed low before her.
“Yes Jancar, I wish you to behold the King’s heir and my son,” she replied. “Your Prince.”
Jancar strode forward in an uneasy fashion as though he was afraid his strong hands or just his presence would somehow damage or hurt the resting baby. As his gaze fell upon the sleeping child, he knew in an instant that his and this boy’s lives were forever more be intertwined like none other. As he took in the babe’s perfect features, he swore to himself and his Gods from his homeland that he would watch over the boy and ensure his safety till he breathed his last. The love that Jancar felt for boy was instantaneous and overwhelming and left him confused and breathless. Never before had he felt this way about another human being, except for the one he could not have, and never to this degree.
“He is beautiful, my Queen,” Jancar stated.
“Jancar, how many times must I tell you that when we are alone you may call me Patricia? I know how you feel about me and I know the love you harbor that can never be. Know this, I feel a great love for you as well yet I love my husband more and would never do anything to soil his name. I know you know this yet still you serve me and mine as faithfully as anyone could ask. For this, I grant you leave to call me Patricia for it is the only thing I can do to repay your love and show you mine.”
Patricia reached out and gently squeezed the rough warrior’s hand. Her touch was like electricity through his very being as his breath caught and a longing for what could never be threatened to pull him down beneath the waves of self pity and shame. Jancar loved his King like a brother and had sworn to serve him till death finally took its price. Never, even had Patricia been willing, would Jancar have betrayed his liege nor soiled his name.
Gently, he pulled his hand away from hers feeling a great loss deep within him as her fingers lost contact with his.
“Patricia, I do love you yet you and I will never be for I would rather die a thousand deaths at the hands of my most bitter enemies than betray my King. I shall grant you your request to call you by your given name yet I beg of you to never touch me again for my longing for you is only kept in check through iron hard self control. Your touch threatens to shatter my resolve and that must never happen.”
“So it shall be, Jancar, so it shall be. For I would not be the cause of you losing your honor nor your resolve,” she said as a tear slowly ran down her check. Her love for the big warrior was as hot and demanding as was his yet she also knew that they could never be.
“Please go and fetch the King for his heir has finally arrived!” she told him with as much gusto as she could muster. “Tell him his Queen and Prince await his arrival!”
Jancar bowed low and left the room to go and find King Caleb. Close as brothers, Jancar and Caleb had not always enjoyed their current relationship. Having found Jancar wounded and near death on a battlefield, Caleb had seen something in the giant Gaul that bespoke of a long and powerful friendship even though Jancar had fought on the side which had challenged Caleb’s own army. Instructing his aides to bring the Gaul back to his tent, Caleb personally watched over Jancar till his wounds were healed enough to travel. During those weeks spent waiting for Jancar to recover, the two warriors had forged a bond that no one would ever be able to break thus prompting Jancar to swear fealty to his new King and brother.
“The Queen requests your presence in the birthing chamber, Caleb,” Jancar stated when he found the King sitting by a roaring fire drinking his customary mead and smoking his pipe. “She wishes to introduce you to the Prince,” he finished with a smile for he knew how badly Caleb had wanted a male heir.
A smile as wide as Caleb’s handsome face spread across his features. Standing so fast he spilled his cup of mead, Caleb clapped his hands together and then proceeded to wrap Jancar into a bear hug that threatened to crack his ribs.
“Lead the way, my brother, for I have important business to attend. I am meeting my son this night and let none stand in my way!”
Caleb swept into the birthing chamber and rushed over to his wife and son. Stopping to kiss his beloved Patricia, he gently gathered his sleeping son into his arms and stopped just so he could look upon his face so as to memorize his every feature. His calloused finger traced the lines of his son’s face where he then checked for himself that the boy was indeed whole and not deformed. Satisfied, he gently returned the boy back to his mother.
“You did well, my love,” Caleb whispered. “I could not have dreamed of a better son! Tonight, we shall have a great gathering of all my lead warriors where we shall drink in honor of my son!”
“I hope you shall not be disappointed that I do not attend for I am still very tired from delivering your son into this world,” she pleaded. “Go, drink and be merry for indeed you do have a reason to celebrate the birth of your son and heir!”
“No, my love, you need not worry that I would or could ever be disappointed with you for you have given me a son! Rest now and soon you shall be ready to once again be at my side as we show the rest of the kingdom my heir!”
With one last kiss, Caleb swept out of the room calling for Jancar to stay and watch over his wife and son. Soon, the palace would be full of merry makers drinking their fill of wine for the King would break out the good stuff to celebrate the arrival of his long awaited Prince.
“Jancar, please summon the midwives so that they may watch over my son and I can clean up and rest a bit.”
“Of course.”
Jancar watched as the string of midwives strode into the birthing chamber and began fussing over the Queen. One took the babe and left the room to finish cleaning the boy and then lay him in his crib. Feeling completely out of place as the midwives began removing the Queen’s clothing so that they may help her clean herself better, he decided to follow the midwife with the baby. Entering the hallway that led to the boy’s room, Jancar watched the woman enter the boy’s room. He made to follow when the distinct sound of men locked in deadly combat suddenly filled the palace. He rushed to the room the midwife has just entered.
“You close and bar this door when I leave,” he instructed the terrified woman. “Do not let anyone enter except the King, the Queen or myself. Do you understand woman?”
All the completely petrified woman could manage was a nod of her head. Jancar waited in the hall until he heard the bar drop into place before racing down the hallway and towards the sound of men dying. He burst into the throne room and beheld a sight that he never would have dreamed could be. Caleb, his brother and King, lay dead across his throne. His throat had been cut so deeply that only a few tendons and muscle at the back of his neck were the only things keeping his head from rolling across the stone floor. The Royal Guardsmen were fighting valiantly against a force that outnumbered them at least four to one and were losing badly. Jancar’s Lieutenant raced up to him.
“The Queen, were is she? Is she safe?”
“She lives. Where did these men come from and how did so many gain access to the palace?”
“When the King sent out word to summon all of his warrior leaders for drink and merriment, these men stormed the gate as it was opened to let the riders pass. There were too many of them to hold and some must have gotten around us and slain the King before the alarm was sounded for the King would never have fallen so easily had he known we were under attack!”
“Nay, the King had been drinking wine and mead all day and he was very drunk from celebrating the arrival of the Prince. Go now and secure the gates! Once the gates are secure, hunt down and kill every single one of these scum. Show no quarter! I go now to ensure the safety of the Queen.”
Jancar turned and raced back to the birthing chamber, sword drawn and aching for blood at the loss of his brother and King. He would not lose another of his charges, especially his beloved Patricia. Bursting through the doors into the birthing chamber, he was just in time to see the last of the midwives fall with a sword through her neck. A dark cloaked and hooded figure wrenched the sword out of the fallen woman’s neck flinging blood across the room where it splattered against the walls and ceiling. Searching desperately for the Queen, Jancar finds her sitting on the floor against the wall holding her stomach as blood poured out from between her fingers to form an ever widening pool around her. Her eyes make contact with hers and a pleading question is passed between them without a word being spoken. Is my son safe?
With a ferocious war cry built even louder from the rage and pain at seeing his adopted family laying dead and wounded around him, he charges the dark assassin. Warned by his cry of rage, the figure turns to meet his attack easily deflecting his first slash that would have cut the figure in two had the blow connected. Fueled by rage, guilt and overwhelming loss, Jancar batters at the assassin absent any skill or fighting savvy he is so well known for. Eventually, cold logic takes hold as he realizes that the longer he fights this creature of the shadows, the longer his Queen goes without attention to her wounds. Settling into his fighting stance, he moves in to attack. The now silent battle rages back and forth as each fighter tries desperately to gain the upper hand and catch their opponent of guard. Swords swish through the air only to clang loudly as each attacks and repels each attempt by the other to end this fight. Jancar, having found a small opening for only a moment in his enemies defenses, takes a quick swipe at the figure’s head. Ducking down a split second before the sword slices through the air were their head had just been, Jancar’s blade catches the very tip of the hood concealing the identity of the assassin and rips the hood off to expose the face of his attacker. Jancar is stunned to see that the fiend that has so far matched him blade for blade is none other than a woman. Shock soon turns to rage as not has this fight gone on way too long as his Queen desperately needs her wounds tended to but his pride is wounded that he has so far been fought to a standstill by a woman! Suddenly backing off a step, the woman is caught off guard by his move and the tip of her sword drops barely an inch. This is all the opening he needs as he suddenly reverses his movement and rams his blade through the stomach of the stunned woman.
“I hope you rot in hell for what you have done this night,” he hisses at her as her sword clatters to the floor. “May your ancestors curse you name when you go to meet them this night!” With that, he slices upward as he pulls his sword free of the grip of the woman’s body.
Slowly, the woman sinks to the floor without so much as a moan. Resting on her knees, Jancar delivers a kick to her face sending her flying back onto the floor where she skids across the stone and come to rest against the wall. Turning, Jancar races to his Queen’s side. He begins to pull her hands away from the wound to her stomach. Gently, she shakes her head.
“It is too late for me, my warrior. Go, bring me my son that I may look upon him one last time before I go to visit the halls of my ancestors. Quickly now for I hear their calls and do not know how long I can ignore their calls.”
With heavy heart and tears streaming down his face, Jancar races down the hall to the room he had left the woman and the baby. Pounding on the door and yelling that it is him, he is rewarded by the sound of the bar being lifted. The woman is holding the babe tightly in her arms when he pushes the door open. Grabbing the baby, Jancar instructs the woman to close and bar the door again. Turning, he begins to retrace his steps when from around the corner at the end of the hall a group of Royal Guards come into view.
“There is Jancar and he has the Prince! Kill him before he can get away!” the man in the lead yells. Jancar recognizes him as one of his Sergeants. Before he can even sort out what he just heard, a crossbow bolt slams into his left shoulder just above were the Prince’s head lays against his arm. Without thinking, Jancar races down the hall and ducks into the door to the birthing chamber just as three more bolts slam into the door frame. Kicking the heavy door shut, a midwife that had escaped the carnage races out from behind a wall tapestry and quickly places the bar on the door just as a terrific thud hammers the other side of the door.
“Quickly woman, shut and bar the other door before they circle back around!” he yells at the terrified woman. Waiting to ensure that the woman did as she was instructed, he then gently places the Prince in his mother’s arms for the last time. So weak from blood loss, Patricia can barely hold up the weight of her babe and Jancar is forced to ensure that she does not drop him. Tears stream down her face as she looks upon her newborn child for the last time.
“How I wish I could have seen you grow into the man I know you will become. You have a great destiny ahead of you for I have seen it in my dreams. You will save our people from the oppression that is about to fall upon them. I give you now into the hands of God and your Gaul warrior protector. Always know that had I a choice, I would never have left you and that I love you more than life itself. I thank God that I was able to at least gaze upon your face for this briefest of times yet now your destiny parts from mine. I will always watch over you from above should God allow it to be so and if you ever find that you cannot or do not have the will to go on, just look to the heavens and I will send you all my love again and again for as long as it takes for you to renew your resolve and soldier on.” Looking at Jancar, she states, “I leave you with my most precious gift, my son. Take him from this place and ensure that he lives to fulfill his destiny for our people. Make sure he knows how much I loved him and how desperately I wanted to stay with him. Please don’t let him grow to hate his father and I for leaving him so soon after he entered this world for we had no say. If you love me even a little bit, you will swear to me as I lay dying that you shall do this for me. Swear it Jancar so that I may go to my ancestors with a clear conscience and not so heavy a heart. SWEAR IT!”
Uncontrollable tears ran down his face in torrents as he watched mother and child spend their last moments they would ever have together this side of life. How could he swear such a thing when he did not even know who was behind this gruesome attack? He was a warrior, not a nursemaid! What did he know of caring for a newborn child? The pleading in the eyes of the one woman he had ever loved pushed him over the edge.
“This I swear to you, my love. I shall look over the Prince as if he were my own. I shall never leave him unattended nor unwatched. He shall know of the love of his mother and father for I shall tell him of it every day until I too leave for the halls of my ancestors. This I swear to you on my honor as a warrior and on the love I have for you. Go now, be at peace and know your Prince is safe.”
With those words, Patricia, Queen and mother, sighed heavily and passed through the portal. Her body shuddered once and then she was gone. Jancar openly cried for he did not know how long. When he had no more tears to give, he ever so softly picked up the child from his mother’s arms and walked over to the hidden passage that only he, the King and the Queen knew of. As he passed the body of the assassin, he heard a small voice.
“You would do well, Gaul, to run far and fast for you have no idea what you have stepped into. They will never stop until they have found and killed both you and the brat.”
With that, the assassin let out her last breath and slipped away. Jancar pulled the hidden lever and stepped into the passageway. Motioning for the midwife to follow, he slide the secret door closed and silently walked away.
“It is just you and me now, little Prince. I shall watch over you always.”
As his footsteps receded into the gloom, Jancar and the boy began their journey together that would end at a place neither expected. Their destinies were now intertwined and should one fall, both would fall.
Fiona: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
With my mind not working as it should anymore, I find it challenging keeping everything straight like characters, plot, places, that sort of thing. I also tend to get frustrated and don’t write as much as I would like.
Fiona: Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?
My favorite of all time has to be Louis L’Amour. He entertained me from the time I could read until this very moment. His work was without compare. My favorite author now, as in current work, has to be Heath Stallcup. I love the way he weaves a tale that captivates me and does not let me go. I have to admit that I am a picky reader and if a book does not suck me in within the first couple of pages, I move on to the next one. Heath does a very good job of sucking me in right off and then never letting me back out.
Fiona: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?
LOL! No. I wish I could have but that takes money that I do not have. I love to travel and someday I plan on doing just that but it is not in the works as of yet.
Fiona: Who designed the covers?
Robyn Dickson finalized the cover but it was my idea on how I wanted the cover to look. I was very picky as to how it turned out.
Fiona: What was the hardest part of writing your book?
Sticking to it. If something means a lot to you, never let up even when you are sure nobody else will like it. Many a night I lay in bed sure I was going to delete the whole thing and start over but I never did. I had convinced myself that my work was a load of junk and I was wasting my time but I stuck with it and now I am a published author.
Fiona: Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?
The most important thing I learned from writing this book was that I really did have it in me to write a complete novel that was entertaining and people would actually want to read my work. That was a huge confidence boost for me and now I am working on more novels that will soon be published as well.
Fiona: Do you have any advice for other writers?
DON”T EVER QUIT! If you want to be an author, don’t let yourself talk you into quitting. Maybe your work is not up to par but remember, Rome was not built in a day. Keep at it and you will get there.
Fiona: Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?
Enjoy the book and please leave a review. Reviews are how authors get their books out there and keep them plugging away on the keyboard.
Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?
The Walking Drum. What an epic story! I only wish I can someday emulate how well that story was done.
Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?
I have a unique sense of humor. I love to play jokes on my family much to the displeasure of my wife. My kids say I walk like a Ninja and scare them all the time even when I am not trying to. I laugh at that. I hate animal cruelty. Seeing animals suffer brings a tear to my eye every time.
Fiona: Is there one person pass or present you would
To meet and why?
I would love to meet Heath Stallcup and John O’Brien face to face. They have been such a huge help to me and I want to actually meet them in person. Another is Aniston Mount. What a great actor.
Fiona: Other than writing do you have any hobbies ?
I love woodworking. Some say I am quit talented at it but I will leave that to others to decide. I also love to work with metal. Creating things gets me going and I love doing it. Before the war, I was an avid outdoorsman but now I just can’t seem to bring myself to kill an animal anymore. I would do so if it meant the survival of my family but that time has not come yet.
Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?
I love the series, “Hell on Wheels.” What a great show. I have always loved watching westerns and this one has it all. I very much like action/adventure films and military films. “A Few Good Men”, “Saving Private Ryan”, “Glory”, all great films.
Fiona: Favorite foods / Colors/ Music
My favorite foods are just down home cooking. I love going to Cracker Barrel. My favorite color has to be candy apple red, especially on a car. Favorite music would have to be ‘80’s and some of the new stuff.
Fiona: If you were not a writer what else would you like to have done?
If I had my choice in the matter, I would still be in the Army. I miss my brothers and sisters terribly.