Patricia Kerr's Blog: Quiet Flight

🐾 Tail Light's Post-Holiday Wisdom
(From the Australian Shepherd who takes her job—and her snacks—very seriously.)

The holidays are over, which means my humans are once again arguing about things that are clearly life‑threatening—like whether pumpkin strings belong in the compost or in Dan’s latest “nutritional experiment.”

This is alarming for two reasons:

Raised voices mean danger.

They are messing with my pumpkins.

Pumpkin is my favourite food in the universe.
Fresh, dried, roasted—I don’t judge.
It’s a nutritional powerhouse, and more importantly, it’s mine.
But now the humans are eyeing my stash like it’s some kind of community resource.

So I do what any responsible Australian shepherd would.
I wedge myself between them, herd their ankles, and bark at anything suspicious—including pomegranate decoctions, which smell like trouble and probably want my pumpkins.

Dan insists he’s “upcycling nutrients.”
Patricia insists he’s stealing her compost.
I insist everyone calm down and stop threatening my squash‑based happiness.

Eventually they settle with warm mugs and tired smiles.
And I curl up at their feet, proud to have saved the pack—and my pumpkin treats—from citrus‑related disaster yet again.

Because in the Mystery Destiny world, even the kitchen scraps need supervision.
And I’m on duty.

Every book begins somewhere, and the spark for Stowaway to Danger came from a story so unbelievable we had to double‑check it wasn’t the setup for a joke. Dan’s sister told us about a coworker who was going through relationship trouble. Upset and alone at his cottage, he sat outside with a drink, trying to clear his head — as one does when the loons are calling and life feels a bit too loud.

Then a slow‑moving train rumbled past.

On impulse — and perhaps out of heartbreak, frustration, or the universal human urge to run away from our problems without packing a toothbrush — he stepped onto the train. Just stepped on. No plan. No luggage. No common sense. He left everything behind on the picnic table: his wallet, his ID, his keys, and possibly his dignity.

When the train finally stopped, he found himself far up north, miles from where he started. At the time, he was a student pharmacist, and suddenly he was stranded with no identification, no money, and no idea how to explain any of this to anyone. (Imagine trying to call home: “You’ll never guess where I am… and no, I didn’t mean to get here.”)

That strange, impulsive moment stuck with us. It felt like the beginning of a mystery: a person vanishing without meaning to, a journey that starts with heartbreak and ends somewhere unexpected, and the question of what happens next when life derails — literally.

When we began writing Stowaway to Danger, we were in our own unexpected chapter. For the first time since retirement, we were separated — Dan in the ICU, me at home, both of us navigating fear, loneliness, and the kind of exhaustion you don’t talk about until much later. Writing became our way to stay connected. Dan built the plots; I shaped the characters. Sometimes the dispute scenes in the book were very real reflections of what we were feeling. (Let’s just say a few fictional arguments were inspired by real‑life “creative differences.”)

But the story gave us a place to meet in the middle, even when life was pulling us apart.

That cottage‑train tale became the seed of a book that helped us through one of the hardest times in our lives. It reminded us that people make strange choices when they’re hurting, that unexpected journeys can lead to unexpected strength, and that sometimes the best stories begin with a single impulsive step into the unknown.

Thank you for reading — and for being part of the Mystery Destiny journey with us. Your support means more than you know, and we’re grateful to share these stories (and the occasional laugh) with you.

The Mystery Destiny series didn’t begin at a desk or on a quiet walk or during a burst of inspiration. It began in an ICU hospital room — the first time my husband and I had been apart since retirement. The sudden separation with the lockdown, the uncertainty, and the loneliness were overwhelming. Life had shifted in an instant, and we were trying to find our footing.

To stay connected, we started writing.

He began sketching out plots from his hospital bed — twists, clues, and the kind of danger that kept his mind busy when the nights felt too long. I added the characters, giving them voices, flaws, courage, and the stubborn determination we were trying to hold onto ourselves. Those early scenes were raw and honest, and sometimes the dispute scenes in the books were very real reflections of what we were feeling.

But something unexpected happened.

The writing brought us back together.
It gave us a shared world when the real one felt frightening.
It gave us purpose when everything else was uncertain.
It gave us a way to talk, to laugh, to imagine again.

What began as a way to cope with loneliness and fear slowly grew into a partnership — one that blended his love of plot with my love of character. And from that unlikely beginning, the Mystery Destiny series took shape: stories about resilience, small‑town grit, Northern Ontario landscapes, and people who refuse to give up even when life gets messy.

We never expected a difficult chapter of our lives to lead to something so meaningful. But here we are — writing together, healing together, and sharing these adventures with you.

Thank you for being part of this journey.