While I await the publication date for the second installment of the Jamestowne Chronicles, A Settler’s Pride, I’ve been working on the third and final book. I have to say there’s a strange feeling working on the last one. The final story. I’ve grown so fond of the characters, large and small. I feel I have walked in their footsteps as they grew and changed. I’ve sat in their homes and their longhouses. Felt their triumphs and tragedies. Their love and loss. I have laughed and cried with them. Standing alongside them as they have gone through life. And in doing so I have found I’ve learned a thing or two about myself.
Living with these “people” for so long has afforded me a level of empathy and understanding I either failed to have or recognize in myself before diving into this world of writing. Having to see things from so many another perspectives — many different than my own — has afforded me the chance to appreciate others’ opinions and to accept what I may not understand. It’s allowed me to take a step back and give grace more often and to a greater depth.
And I hope readers have taken some things from the pages. Like knowing and accepting that love comes in all shapes and sizes. That honor is to be valued. That kindness doesn’t have to be loud and boisterous, it’s much more effective if offered in quiet moments or without fanfare. That decency holds true across generations. And that people of differing cultures can find common ground if they take the time to see each other as people and not enemies or political rivals.
I don’t know exactly what will happen when I type out The End after the third book in the series is finished but I do know that the characters who have graced the pages of all three and have lived with me for so long will remain with me. Their wisdom and their courage propelling me forward.
