Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

/ C. R. Hedgcock

Hello everyone! 🙂

It’s been a while since I did a Q&A post here (sorry about that). Many of you were intrigued by the idea of a reverse Q&A, where I ask you things I’m curious about. So after tackling a few of your questions, I’ll ask you some of my own!

 

1) Will the Predzels be in any future books?

I’m not sure yet. I haven’t planned to include them, but they may appear in a future story if they could help the main characters.

 

2) Did Sigurd get Gleym back?

Yes, definitely. 🙂 I love the fact that you remembered to ask about her!

 

3) Do we know what happened to Jigson’s parents?

Oh, I can’t wait for you to read Hunting in the Highlands! The answer is yes!

 

4) How much of the Hrein Orka in Iceland Intrigue is based on real science, and how much is fiction?

It’s mainly fiction … but who knows? Maybe there are principles of it that someone has yet to discover 😉

 

5) What is the significance of ‘Twelve Lemons’?

It’s a phrase with quite a personal meaning for Jigson and Detective Mortimer – otherwise it wouldn’t have guaranteed Jigson’s identity in Iceland Intrigue.

Is it part of a big mystery? Or is it something more innocuous? Will they spill the beans in Book 8? … Maybe!

 

6) When you wrote Hunting the Highlands did you plan out the whole book before you started writing?

Yes. I did make a careful plan so that the book would progress with logical structure and so I would know where the story was going – it had the potential to be quite confusing with characters splitting up and traipsing all over Scotland.

But the need to be flexible arose when I reached the end and realized that the climax was not right for the story … so a whole new ending had to be written!

Do you have burning questions for a future post? Send them via the contact page!

Now … here are my questions for you! 🙂

1. Who are your top 2 favourite male characters?

2. Who are your top 2 female characters?

3. Who is your favourite villain? (Miss Verton, Lewis Nickel, Bud Larone, Rolf/escaped convicts, Dainn, Herr Klaus, or someone else?)

4. Which is your favourite title in the series, and why?

5. Should one of the characters be in a relationship/courtship? Who and why? (I’m not promising anything by asking this 😉 I’m genuinely curious! 🙂 )

I look forward to finding out what you think! 🙂

4,874 thoughts on “Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!”

  22. 3000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!3000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!3000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  25. Congratulations Parker! It’s only fitting since you started it, you finished it. And great idea Jac for wanting us to make 1000!!!!!!

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  28. Even thought we are at 3000, I still want to here Lucia’s and Sandrina’s final scenes. I also am in the middle of writing another Cassidy scene.

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  32. 3000? 3000? YOU GOT TO THREE THOUSAND WITHOUT ME?!!!! This is never going to end, and if it did a guess you would never get to here the end of the fanfic stories!

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  34. I can’t believe you guys reached 3000! To answer you question Isabelle, yes I have been spying. And no, I didn’t go AWOL, Kaylee.

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  35. Okay here is the next scene, I am working on the next bit, please excuse spelling,

    Abby’s opened her eyes than immediately shut them as bright sunlight met them, she slowly tried to lift her head, pain rushed through her body, it felt as though all the skin had been scraped of her face, surely every bone in her body was broken and every inch of skin covered in scratches and bruises, she cried in pain. “Abby!” It was Andy’s voice, she opened her eyes slowly; Andy was looking down at her anxiously, “oh thank God!” He cried looking relieved his eyes were wet with tears, he brushed them away “how do you feel?” he asked, “terrible.” She answered, if it had been Andy he probably would’ve said—“like I fell out of a plane.” But she was not Andy and she didn’t feel like making jokes. “Where’s Phil.” She croaked, Andy clenched his fists and glanced into the sky than looked down at his slightly older sister and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Abby I….” Abby felt fear grip her it couldn’t be, was Andy really about to say what she thought he was? Was Phil….? “Phil isn’t here.” He finally said tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes “Phil?” Abby whispered her bottom lip trembled, tears fell down her cheeks. Andy shut his eyes and fought back the tears, Abby needed medical attention. “Where do you hurt most?” he asked “my leg.” Abby whispered then groaned softly as he gently touched it, he scrambled up from the ground and looked round for a strait stick, Abby turned her head and looked at her surroundings, it was hardly an Island a couple of trees and rocks twenty meters long, judging by eye. She shuddered the plane could never have landed here. Then tears sprang to her eyes, there was nowhere Phil could be hiding either. Andy pulled out a small first aid kit from his parachute “you’re leg might be broken.” He explained as he lined the stick up and began tightly wrapping the bandage round her leg on the stick; Abby bit her lip to keep from crying in pain. Next he started to clean the most severe cuts that covered her body. “How’s your head?” Andy asked “sore” Abby replied, knowing Andy’s thoughts. She probably had a concussion. The pain was almost unbearable as Andy did his best to feel for any other broken bones, she was screaming inside, then blessed unconsciousness.

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  36. I’m starting to think we writers are cruel people! In three of the books I’m working on I have faked a death or killed a character! And you just tried to killed off Phil and Abby (They are two of my favorites don’t kill them!!!!!!). AWOL means absents with out leave, Lieya.

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  37. Oh BTW Sandrina, (I’m just writing another scene and I needed some help) Do you know if people usually slick down their hair in England and Scotland like they do in America?

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  39. “I sent them where?!” Jigson cried “Russia.” Mr. Baker replied looking bewildered though not quite as much as Jigson did. Jigson groaned “they can’t go to Russia!” “But why…” Mr. Baker was cut off by the ring of his cell phone. He answered “Hello Mr. Baker speaking…..Detective! So good to…What!” Mr. Baker cried his face went white and the phone fell from his hand to Jigson’s bed, detective Mortimer’s voice called out “Charles? Charles are you okay?” Jigson picked up the phone, staring at Mr. Baker who stood shock still his eyes full of terror. “Mortimer, its Jigson….” “Yes, of course, I’m fine to talk!” He snapped “what happened? What did you tell Charles………What?!” Jigson said in shock, “okay.” He stammered then put the phone down, Mr. Baker sank down into his chair “they can’t be.” He whispered.

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  42. Sreeeeech! Sandri, did you just kill Phil possibly my most favourite character???? *Hype ventilating* Why? Why? We are going to have a looooong talk next time I see you. Long talk. *clears throat* Sorry about that. I’ll post my next scene since it’s obvious you guys are dying of suspense!
    Sorry if you’ve already heard the first bit.

    Abby stared after the rapidly retreating van until it turned a corner and vanished. “Andy, what are we going to do? Should we tell one of the staff what happened?” she said, shakily. Andy nodded. “Then I’ll find a phone charging port so that we can call Mother.” He said, anxiously. Why do things like this always happen when we go anywhere? Andy approached one of the staff, an engineer by the looks of his overalls. He was of average height and build, his hair streaked with dust and his face smudged with grease. “Excuse me sir, please may I use your phone? It is an emergency!” He said, making vivid hand gestures in case the man didn’t understand English. His eyes narrowed. “What for?” He said in a thick accent. “My brother was just kidnapped by a thug with a gun! What is the emergency services number here?” Abby tapped his shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll need that.” “Why not”? He glanced back at the engineer. His blue eyes sparkled. Andy gasped. “Mr…” “Not here, Andy.” Jigson said. “But…but…how can you be here?” “How come they let you out of hospital?” Abby added. Jigson’s face darkened. “I had to warn you. But it looks like someone else got here first. I’ve got to take you somewhere safe.” “But what about your arm? You might not get very far…” “Abby,” Jigson whispered, reproof in his tone, “I’ve climbed a mountain, held three criminals prisoner and flown a helicopter with a hole in my side. I think I can make it in Stockholm with an injured arm.” He leaned closer, “If anyone asks, I’m taking you to the police station.” As he led them out to the parking lot, Abby’s mind whirled. Mr Jigson had was awful condition a two days ago. Are we being tricked again? Is this another imposter? She caught Andy’s eye. We have to find out.

    “Well, isn’t this fitting? The queen of crime facing her dejected and defeated enemies, just like old times.” Miss Verton crossed one leg over the other and relaxed in the plush velvet seat. The laughter that echoed around the chamber had confidence in it, as well as an element of pleasure. Defeated and dejected? Phil glanced at Rolf, who was standing up tall, staring straight at her with hatred in his eyes. No, not defeated. Phil scraped up the courage to say something, but no words would come. “Oh, come now, what do you have to say for yourselves, hmm?” “What then shall we say to these things?” Phil burst. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Miss Verton blinked. “Ah, how cute, one of your bible verses,” she said, scornfully. “But where is your oh so loving God now?” Phil jumped as Rolf replied, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Phil’s heart filled with joy as the sun began to stream through the windows. Could it really be Rolf saying these things? “So we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper, I shall not fear. What can man do to me?” He finished. Miss Verton’s jaw went slack, and she drew back. It was clear that she didn’t know how to deflect this kind of surprise attack. Phil could see something in her face. Could it be…fear? “Jesus said,” Phil continued, “Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” He gazed at her… “But rather fear Him who can kill both soul and body in Hell.” Her face went pale. There was silence. “You…you…Guards! Get these…these…maniacs out of my sight!” She gasped. Someone stepped out of the shadows and handed her a glass of water. She drained it and regained her composure. “What do you want us to do with them?” One of the guards asked, as another two pounced on Phil and Rolf, and shoved rifles against their backs. Miss Verton thought a moment. “Take them to room 3.” She said, as she pushed the toe of one of her leather boots into a stone slab. It depressed and one of the statues slid away, revealing a hidden doorway. As Phil and Rolf were led into it and prodded down the stairs, they heard her voice calling after them, “Oh, and Sebastian,” she chuckled, grimly. “I want them alive, but only just.”

    “Mr Jigson,” asked Andy, “Where are we going?” Jigson let up on the clutch and shifted gears. “To the house of a friend.” He flashed the headlights as they rounded a corner. “Can you tell us who?” Andy probed. Jigson sighed. “It was the holiday home of…” He paused. “Arnau Gorrion.” “Oh.” Jigson’s eyes took on a faraway look. “He loved this area. He would hike up to the mountains and paint, or sit down on the sea-front and think. This was his getaway from everything. If fact, no one even knows it’s here.” Jigson thought back to when he had first met Arnau. He could remember it perfectly. The wind was howling wildly. He narrowed his eyes against the flurries of snowflakes and scanned the area for any sign of civilisation. He was hungry and cold, and had hardly any sense of direction. Have to keep walking. I can’t stop or I’ll freeze. A light flickered on somewhere in the swirling mass of white. Jigson’s heart leapt. He quickened his pace and hurried towards the light, sparing no thought for the blisters on his feet or his freezing hands. He reached a house, its red wooden structure almost hidden by the mountains of snow piled against it. He dug through a large drift, and found a door. He hammered on it with all the strength that was left in him, then half collapsed against one of the door posts. How am I supposed to get to Gorrion’s cabin now? He has to be warned! Jigson heard the click of a key in the lock, and as the door swung open, he was faced by an older man, in about his mid-thirties, with brown hair framing a kind and wise face. His green eyes darted behind his thick-rimmed glasses and quickly took in the situation. He pulled Jigson inside and slammed the door behind him. Jigson glanced around. The cabin was cosy and comfortable. Against one wall was a large bookcase, filled from top to bottom with old volumes and knick-knacks. Directly in front of him was a stone wall with a deer’s head hanging above it. There was a fire-place set into it, and a fire was crackling merrily in the grate. Two faded arm-chairs stood before it, and Jigson was helped into one by his host. He sank into the soft padding of the back-rest, and sighed as the warmth of the fire began to thaw his feet. “Hello,” said the man, “I am Arnau. And you are?” Jigson’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You…you are…Arnau Gorrion?” “That’s right.” Arnau continued in a soft, slightly Spanish accent. “How did you know?” “I…I…am from…the Agency.” Jigson stammered, his teeth chattering. Arnau’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll get you some coffee.” He disappeared through a door in the far wall, and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Why were you out in that snow-storm?” He jerked his head to the window, where snowflakes still fell like rain. “I had to warn…you.” Jigson could feel his legs again, and his teeth had stopped chattering. Arnau froze. “Warn me of what?” “Your cover has been blown. You have been recognised. Arvid Braynarrsonn has sent men to arrest you.” Arnau placed the mug on the coffee table and walked over to the book-case. He twisted on of the knick-knacks, a whittled figure of a horse, and the book-case slid to one side, revealing a flight of stairs. “Drink your coffee quickly. Are you warmer now?” Jigson gulped a mouthful of coffee and nodded. “What is your name?” Arnau asked again. “Jigson.” he replied. He stood from the arm-chair and walked over to the stairwell. “So, what’s the plan?” He asked. “Simple. We barricade the door and disappear down here.” “Will it work?” Jigson asked. Arnau’s face was grim. “It has to.”
    Jigson’s reverie was interrupted by the flashing of head-lights as another car rounded the bend ahead of him. He pulled over to let the other car pass, then turned and began driving down the steep hill towards a red house. He drove behind it and parked the van. “Well you two, we’re here.”
    Brick. Grey brick. Phil was beginning to feel faint. He could not remember how long he had been walking. The lighting in the passage was dim, and there were no windows. He could barely remember how to walk. The last time he had eaten had been on the plane, and he was sure his blood sugar was getting lower and lower. He thought back to that box of Kottbullar he had bought in Stockholm. I wish I had eaten it! Stockholm. Abby and Andy! Have they been kidnapped too? What kind of danger are they in? Oh dear Lord, please protect them! Please keep Mr Jigson until I can find a way to help him! Please help me to keep walking. “Please,” he croaked, “May I have some water?” “No! No more talking. We have a mile left until we reach room 3. You can drink there. Now move!” The guard pushed him onward. The place was a maze of underground passages and tunnels. Phil groaned. Will I be able to remember the way back out? Another mile? Can I last that long? Rolf leaned closer to him. “Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall,” He said, his whisper barely audible above the click-clack of the two guard’s heavy boots on the flagstone floor, “But those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” He smiled. Phil’s heart soared. Rolf? The Lord was working in him. Praise God! Phil could not believe Rolf’s outburst in the throne room, and the effect it had on Miss Verton. The word of God is sharper than any two edged sword. Lord, help me to know that all things work together for good for those that love God, and are called according to his purpose. Help us to walk this last mile, and brace us for whatever may meet us at our destination.

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  43. My sister just got a new fish and named him Jigson because he likes to hide and spy on the other fish. We call him Jiggy for short. 🙂

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  44. Well, since I’ve scrolled all the way down here and don’t fell like returning to the top ( 😀 ), congrats on reaching 3,000!!!

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  45. Thanks guys! One little hint. The next scene is about Alistair…
    I can’t post it because I haven’t finished it yet.
    p.s I would cry if Phil died (which could possibly happen, courtesy of Sandrina!) or any other of the good guys, but no one else. Especially NOT Miss Verton or Lachlan or Del Quera. And I did cry a bit when I read that part at the end of book five where Jigson “dies”

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  47. 3,000+ comments?! Congragulations. Man that’s a lot!!! Was that like a goal or something that Miss Hedgcock put up for you guys? Just curious how you got there…

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    • Well, me, Jac, and Lieya started out I think kind of chatting. Jac suggested we get to 1000 comments. A whole bunch of people joined in. Then we wanted 2000. And 3000. We blew up Miss Hedgcock’s blog post from that. But, out of this craziness, Lieya, me, and Jac along with Maddie started a writers community. (If you’re a writer, we’d love to have you.) All of our chattings went over there. And now we’re at 3569 on accident from trying to slow this down. It’s been a lot of fun.

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  48. 3,000+ comments?! Congratulation. Man thats a lot!!! Was that like a goal or something that Miss Hedgcock set for you?? Just curious how you got there…

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  49. Oh goodness gracious!!!!!!!! TYPO. My comment went away and I thought I didn’t post it!!!! I couldn’t remember exactly what I wrote, sorry for taking up the extra space.

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  50. I would be great to see more of Alistair in one of your scenes, Leah. Your Cassidy scenes are intriguing. People have done the side slicking the hair thing here, but it’s not really much of a style any more, (that was more in like the 1800s or something) lots of people just have normal-ish hair. Like Canada or America I guess. Leah, you said you were from Canada didn’t you? Do you speak any french?

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