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!”

  8. Yay! you didn’t get to 2000 without me! Instead of commenting on everyone’s scenes individually I ‘ll just say it here. I love everyone’s scenes! They are great! No, we don’t have Chuck-fill-a or whatever it is!
    What is it? but I don’t think you have Haribo sweets!

    Reply

    • We do get Haribo sweets sometimes, don’t they make gummy bears? Some I think we import from Switzerland. It’s funny, when any of our relatives come to see us from Switzerland, we always ask them to brighten loads of stuff. Sock, shoes, sweets, pop, cheese, toys, and of course chocolate!!!!

      Reply

      • Yes, they make gummy bears, when my grandparents visit from Denmark they have half their suitcase is full of all the things we have asked them to bring!

    • Cool! I was born in Germany my dad is African and my mom is danish all my brothers (all 4 of them) have been born in England. And I see myself as British! though a lot of my friends say I have an American accent. I did have a very close American friend when I was younger, his accent might have rubbed off on me…

      Reply

      • Thats so neat! I have a slightly french accent, so I wouldn’t say I have a “Canadian” accent, but I have always loved the British accent so I have been trying to perfect one for the last 7 years. The funny thing is, is my little siblings hear me so often that whenever they dress up or play pretend, they always try to have a British accent too!

      • That’s funny. I have tried to perfect one because I read the Bakers out loud. My siblings dod the same thing with accents.

  15. Miss Hedgcock just wrote back to me and said I could tell you all. We can continue writing fanfiction but she will need to ask her publisher before we put it into a book format.

    Reply

  16. Jac! Your scenes were very good! I am dyslexic too. I find spelling very hard. It also took me ages to start reading.

    Reply

    • Spelling is awful!! The other thing I really shovel with is proper pronunciation and grammar. Also I’m sure that drives you guys nuts but I have to have a she said he said or something like that at the end of every sentence or I get too confused about who’s talking.

      Reply

      • It doesn’t bother me! I struggle with grammar too. I just write and then ask my parents or a good friend who knows I struggle to go through spelling and grammar for me. The computer has a spelling program though!

      • That’s cool. I found out about it while watching a piano video by Erin Bates on youtube. By the way, y’all should her piano playing. It is beautiful and she is the best pianist I know. Look up ‘Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee’ or ‘It Is Well’ if you are interested.

  17. I was wondering if I could comment a prayer request related to the homeschool laws where I live? Or do you think that it is rude to Miss Hedgcock, because this is a blog for Miss Hedgcock’s books?

    Reply

  18. I know that this is like totally not anything to do with the BFA, writing or anything we’ve talked about, but some of you are homeschooled right? So could you guys pray that MD doesn’t pass this bill.
    Here’s what my Mom said
    “Even if you don’t homeschool, but you care about your constitutional rights please call, write emails, consider going to the meeting in Annapolis on Tuesday. This is beyond ridiculous, complete infringement of our 4th amendment rights, and nothing more than an ignorant, overreaching bully who is grasping at straws to get new votes this election.”
    Mama is totally right to, ugh.

    http://mdhsa.com/legal/2018/2018-hb1798.php

    Reply

  19. That’s awful Kaylee! I’m homeschooled and I’ve lived under dome really awful laws and we have also been in trouble with CPS and the police never on any good grounds I a sure you but a lot of it had to do with because we homeschooled. I’ll pray for sure.

    Reply

  22. Rolf slipped silently through the trees, pausing every now and then to listen. Nothing. He was alone.

    Thoughts muddled in his brain, making it difficult for him to think. Garth must have drawn them off. God, protect him! And if I have to face him? Them? Please, God. Don’t let it come to that. He exhaled. All these minutes ticking by, these days that had passed, these months he’d hidden from it… He’d hoped that it would never come to this. Yet it had. He stood here now. Even though Jigson had tried to shield him from it, it had found him anyway. And justice pleaded for him to act.

    A shot exploded through the air, causing Rolf to jump.

    A split second later, Rolf was lying prone on the ground, his gun cocked and ready in his hand. He could feel the hairs on his neck rising. Sweat trickled down his face, and he licked his dry lips. After a few moments, he raised his head, realizing the shot had come from a ways off. Garth. Rolf rolled to his feet and ducked behind a tree, scanning the area, then resting his head against the trunk. God, keep him safe – please. I-I trust you can.

    Stillness. No second shot. Nothing.

    Rolf’s chest tightened at the thought racing through his mind, but shoved them back as he started walking again. I trust you, God. I choose to trust you. I must trust you. I will trust you, he thought.

    The leaf covered path appeared between the trees and he halted mid-stride. He knew what he had to do, what he must do. Checking the area around him, he then proceeded to sprint up the path a number of meters. Then he knelt alongside of it. His hands touched the bag in his pouch and he pulled it out, dumping itself contents in his palm. Long nails glinted up at him. He hesitated, knowing what this would mean.

    “I-I…” H shook his head. “Can’t.” He smashed the nails into the ground and sank alongside the path. Der richtige weg ist nie einfach, Garth’s voice echoed through his mind. He looked at the nails, then at the path. “The right way is never easy.”

    He knew he probably didn’t have much time. Whatever he did now would be his decision. Whether it was right or wrong. Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, searching through his mind for the quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer he’d once heard. Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. Rolf’s eyes opened.

    “God, I’m weak. I can’t do this, not in my strength. Help me, please, to do the right thing.”

    Rolf scooped up the nails, then rose. Locating a solid branch, he quickly carved a shallow crevasse spanning the width of the path and stood each nail in it with the sharp end up. Then he filled it with dirt, sticks, and rocks before packing it in. Lastly, he scattered a few leaves over them. Just as he finished, his phone vibrated. Fishing it out of his pocket, he unlocked it and tapped on the message. From Garth. He expelled a breath of air. He was safe. He scanned the rest of the message.

    “Are you all right? Any movement? Backup on its way.”

    Rolf started to type, but the roar of an engine touched his ears – and grew louder. He ducked into the trees, swiftly moving ahead of his nail trap. Then he swiped, “Movement. Hurry.” After sending it, he hastily tucked his phone away and waited with pistol in hand.

    It grew louder still as did the pounding of his heart. Pops caused by the nails exploded through the air seconds later. Angry conversation reached his ears as the vehicle rolled to a stop only a few feet from his hiding place. A door opened and he heard guns click.

    “Check the tires.” His father.

    I have to face him, Rolf thought. I have to stall them until Jigson and the rest of them get here. The right way is never easy. Never easy.

    Inhaling a deep breath, Rolf spun around the tree and leveled his gun at the man he loved deeply. Two pistols flew up at him.

    “Rolf?” Shock filtered through Herr Klaus’s voice.

    Miss Trina Verton stood next to him, her eyes narrow and her Glock glinting menacingly. “You’re not on our side, are you, Rolf?”

    Rolf swallowed. His hand was shaking. He had to stall them, but how? He looked at his father. “If only you knew how much I loved you,” he whispered, “and how hard this is for me.”

    Herr Klaus remained silent, but Miss Verton filled in for it. “You can’t hide your true loyalty, Rolf. But tell me, would you shoot the one who is going to be your mother?”

    Rolf gritted his teeth, then glanced at his father and then back at her. “You’re-not-my-mother,” he said. His hand sweated, but he steadied it. “And to answer you’re other question, Miss Verton, I am on the side…” He paused. “Of justice.”

    She smirked at him with her bright red lips. “That’s all I needed to know.” She pulled the trigger as Rolf dove to the side.

    The sickening bang rushed through the air and hot fire tore into Rolf’s shoulder – the same shoulder as before. He gasped as he fell to the ground, his head swirling against the pain. Shouting. Someone rushed to his side. His father?

    More shouting. Running feet. The hand, his father’s, was torn away from him and another replaced it.

    “Rolf? Rolf! Can you hear me?”

    His eyes rolled back and darkness enveloped him.

    Reply

  39. Sorry guys I know I said I was going to post my last part here this afternoon but…… I was oy horse for a few minutes and my brother said something about a race and……. 5 hours later it’s 22:52.😨😄

    Reply

  41. Okay, so I’m back from a vacation. (I am not saying where) and I need to be told what is going on here. I’ve tried to read all the comments but I can’t. So…What’s up?

    By the way, I’m homeschool, Parker Hankins, and I’ve also written books and I’m almost ready to publish my first one.

    Reply

  42. I’m using CreateSpace to self publish, since all my writing friends says it’s best. I think it would be cool to have a real publisher, but I’m not that good.

    Reply

  43. This post is just an ongoing conversation, no one wants to stop! At least it has slowed down a little. It used to be I wake up in the morning and there is like 200 more comments!!!!! 🙂

    Reply

  44. I am homeschooled. And in response to Leah’s question aaaaaaaages ago, I live in Oxford. And if you are interested in UK history, our island story is a good book to read.

    Reply

  45. Hi! I have written a scene, Sandrina likes it but it would be great to get some constructive criticism on it. 🙂

    “We are home!” exclaimed Tom, quickly unclipping his seatbelt and flinging open the door the the family’s large car. Abby soon followed him. She stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. “Home.” she murmured. She went round the other side of the car, where Phil was holding the door open for a smiling young woman of about sixteen, the same age as Abby. “So, Briosa, what do you think? Is it as pretty as when you last saw it?” Briosa smiled, showing rows of beautiful white teeth, in sharp contrast to her long, black wavy hair. “It is wonderful! Just as I remembered it!” She cast her eyes over the fields where the Baker’s horses were grazing peacefully. “Shall we go see them?” Abby led the way to a paddock where a lovely chestnut gelding was standing, his head held high, the picture of majesty. On spotting Abby, he rushed over to the fence like greased lightning. He whinnied to her. “Hi Arrow, did you miss me, Boy? Arrow lend towards her and nudged her gently. Abby breathed in his sweet, horsey smell. “Oh, I’ve missed you. You would have been a great help in Scotland. My legs will never be the same.” Abby glanced up. Briosa was at the far end of the paddock with Honey. “Hola, old amigo.” she said, as she gently stoked the mare’s blond mane. Abby suddenly had an idea. “Wait here, Arrow.” she said, then ran in the direction of the stables. Briosa soon followed. “Where are you going?” she called. Abby slipped into the tack room, then re-appeared with a saddle on her arm and a bridle over her shoulder. “Let’s take them for a ride!” she replied, handing the tack to Briosa and turned to get a saddle for Arrow. But when she returned, Briosa had dissapeared. The saddle and bridle were slung over the opposite fence, and Briosa was rapidly dissapearing over the hill. She stopped for a moment and shouted back, “We don’t need those!” then continued running towards the paddock. Abby set the saddle down and ran after her. Oh what a joy it was to run, just for the fun of it! She had done a lot of running in Scotland, escaping imprisonment, running from gun dogs, leaping over burns, and getting absolutely drenched. She caught up to Briosa, who was already mounted and sat waiting. Abby flung herself over the fence and onto Arrow. Oh, how she had missed riding, the feeling when rider and horse are one, barely seeming to touch the ground, as if flying. They jumped the gate easily and cantered towards the woods. Abby gripped a handful of Arrow’s mane, and sitting steadily on Arrow’s back, she remembered that in her haste she had forgotten to tell her family where they were going. She tapped Phil a message on her locket.

    We are out for a ride. she typed, “Wont be long, Abby.”
    Almost instantly, a message buzzed back.

    “Be safe. Phil.”
    Slowly, Abby began to gain on Briosa, darting between trees and over fallen branches. They came near to where the path intersected the road. Abby slowed, and signaled Briosa to follow. Honey was easily spooked, and it wasn’t safe to gallop across roads. Slowly, they emerged from the trees and began to trot across the road. Abby casually glanced over her shoulder, then stopped. “What is it?” asked Briosa, pulling Honey up beside her. “Down there,” she pointed, “Is that a car?” They both galloped towards the ditch, where a car laid on it’s side, it back bumper twisted beyond repair, and the trunk lid completely rammed off it’s hinges, and the two front windows were shattered. Abby leapt of Arrow, raced to the drivers door and yanked it open. What she saw drained all colour from her face and made her gasp. There, lying parralel across the gearbox, was a man. He was wearin ripped blue jeans and a blood-stained sweatshirt. “Briosa, come quick!” she shouted, her voice shaky. “Who is it? What has happened?” she too descended from her horse and ran to the drivers seat. Her mouth fell oepn in surprise.
    “Senyor Jigson!”

    Tell me what you think! 🙂

    Reply

  47. Thanks! I do have another scene written which says what happens next. I don’t think its as good as the first one, though.

    Reply

  50. Abby leaned over Jigson. His breathing was sharp and shallow, and his pulse was slow. “He’s losing blood.” exclaimed Abby, urgently. “I’ll get the horses.” Briosa ran off in the direction of Honey, who was standing patiently on the verge. “Mr Jigson?” said Abby, “Mr Jigson, are you alright?!” Jigson’s head turned. He had a deep gash on his left cheek, and his forehead was bruised. His eyes opened groggily. “Abigail?” “Don’t move, you may have broken something. We are going to get you a hospital.” said Abby, soothingly. Jigson tried to sit up, then gasped and fell back. “Can’t go to hospital.” He croaked, “Must go to…” “Please try to relax, you are losing blood.” said Abby, a little more urgently. She glanced down the road. “Briosa, get to that call box and call 911. Hurry!” Briosa mounted Honey and dashed for the phone box. Jigson groaned. Abby turned back to him. He was sweating badly, but still managed to remain conscious. Abby reached into the glove-box and pulled out the car’s first aid kit. Slowly, she began to ease off his sweater. He winced, then gasped, “Abby, there’s trouble.. in Sweden.. he’s out to get you… you have to stop.. him.” then fell into unconsciousness. She rushed to feel this pulse. Yes, it was still there, but faint. She wiped his cuts with anti-bacterial wipes than began to bandage them. Suddenly, she stopped, then gasped again. Embedded in his left arm was a bullet.
    * * * * * *
    Phil sat in the waiting room of St John’s hospital. He tapped his foot impatiently, but his deep blue eyes were full of worry. He felt his watch vibrate. “Any news?”
    “No.”
    He had been sitting in the white-washed waiting room for nearly four hours, and it was already 10:30. He sighed, and looked about him. The waiting room was brightly lit with overhead lights, with a few poster on the wall about heart desiese, vaccination, and indigestion. Over all, it was very plain. He wished he had someone to talk to, but Mr baker, Briosa and Abby had left two hours ago. But there WAS someone he could talk to. He closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands.
    “Oh, Lord.” he prayed, silently. “Please keep Mr Jigson safe. Help the doctors and nurses to know what to do for him..”

    He was interrupted as a nurse came through the double doors. “Excuse me, sir, are you here for the man with the bullet wound?” Phil looked up. The nurse was clean and neat, with her blonde hair swept up into a tight bun. “Yes.” her replied, “Is there any news.?”
    “Well, he is alive, but in a very bad state. If those girls hadn’t found found him when they did.” her voice trailed off.
    “Is he going to be all-right?” Phil anxiously asked.
    “We’re not sure.” said the woman. “It could be that we can treat it and he could be out within the week. It could also be much worse.He has a severe head injury, a deep wound on his arm, and has lost a lot of blood. The truth is, we aren’t sure how long he will survive.” Phil’s eyes widened. ” Do you know how we can contact his family? We may have to do key-hole surgery to get it out, and that can be quite risky, so close to the heart.” Phil opened his mouth to answer, and shut it again. The world thought that Jigson was dead, for his safety and for others. His parents were dead, and Dainn, his Uncle, and Miss Verton, his sister, were both in jail. Or were supposed to be. The government were still not sure of her whereabouts. He couldn’t give the name Haelix, either, as it was well known in the criminal underworld that to be Jigson, the secret agent who had brought down Herr Klaus, Dainn, Miss Verton, and most recently, Cennard Lachlan. The woman was staring at Phil, waiting for an answer, so he blurted, “Jacob Hadley.” “Do you know his family’s phone number?” continued the nurse, sounding suspicious. Phil thought. Jigson’s family were all unreachable, for obvious reasons. Then, a thought struck him. “I think that I have it on my phone.” he said, grabbing his cell-phone out of his coat pocket. Opening the messaging app, he quickly texted Mr Baker. “Hospital want J’s family number. Giving them yours. U R Andrew Hadley.”
    He pressed send, then showed the nurse his father’s contact page. The nurse wrote it down, then smiled. Thank-you for your help. You should go home now. Leave your phone number at the desk and we’ll notify you if there is are any changes.” Her smile faded. “I am sorry.”
    Phil left his number with the receptionist ad went out to his car. He opened the front door, and collapsed into the front seat. Phil thought back to when they thought they had lost Jigson. He remembered what a joy it had been to see him on that beach in Iceland. He remembered what he had once said, “We will meet again, on this shore or the next.” Phil slumped onto the steering-wheel and sobbed, “Lord, take care of him!. Please.”

    * * * * * * *
    “Amen.”
    No-one felt very hungry for the lamb casserole with suet dumplings Mrs Baker had made. No-one spoke either. Finally, Abby broke the silence by saying, “Any news, father?” Mr Baker checked his phone. “No.”
    Abby continued, “When I was tending Mr Jigson, he said “There is trouble in Sweden. He’s after you. You have to stop him.” then he passed out.”
    “He could have been delirious, ” reasoned Mr Baker.
    “And who’s *He*? asked Andy. “Someone in Sweden.” Abby replied. “I am sorry, Briosa, you came here for some rest and relaxation and you have already pulled into another adventure.” she sighed. Were they ever going to stop? She was innterupted by the doorbell, it’s tinkling tone ringing through the hallway and into the kitchen. “I’ll get it.” said Abby, rising for the table and running for the door. She undid the latch. Phil was standing on the doorstep, looking about ready to drop, and with a strange twinkle in his eye that Abby had only seen once before. “Is it bad news?” she asked, anxiously. He said nothing, but instead walked past her to the kitchen. Everyone looked up as he came in. He looked several years older than he was, and worry was etched across his face. He took his place at the worn oak table, which was now laden with strawberry pie. “Any news?” Mrs Baker inquired. He ignored her question. “Where’s Tom?”
    “I sent him up to bed an hour ago. Phil, what’s wrong?” Abby gazed at her brother. Fear began to pulse through her,and it was as if butterflies had landed in her stomach. She dropped her fork. “Mr Jigson! Is he… Is he…” the words wouldn’t come. “No! At least, not yet.” He took a deep breath. “When the nurse came to see me, she said Jigson was alive, but they’re not sure how long he will live.” Mrs Baker grasped her husbands hand. Abby, Briosa and Andy gasped. “They have to do keyhole surgery to remove it.. It may not help, though. Because it is so risky so close to the heart, that they needed to contact his family, so I gave them father’s number. The nurse said they will contact us if his condition changes.” he finished. “I feel like we just got him back.” said Abby, her voice wavering. “But now…” She buried her face in her hands. Just then, Phil’s phone bleeped. Everyone looked up, expectantly. Phil rushed to pick up his phone, but as soon as he saw the message, his face fell. He read the text aloud,” Mr Baker, we regret to inform you that your friend has an underlying heath condition, one we’ve never seen before. It may have been spread by the bullet in his shoulder. There is not much we can do to treat it.” Phil almost choked on the last sentance. “He may have less than a week left to live.” Mr Baker closed his eyes in prayer. “Dear Lord.” Abby could hear the strain in his voice. “Help us to remember that our friend is safe…i your everlasting arms.” He stopped. Phil tooked up with a tear-stained face.
    “I’m going to Sweden.”

    Sorry it took me sooooooo long to type. I have a teensy bit more, but I may have to type that tommorow. I would LOVE some criticism of any kind.
    🙂

    Reply

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