Let’s welcome Sean back! 

A true gentleman and a talented author, we aremost keen to have him return to tell us about his new novel.

He’s been with us before and if you missed hisvisit, please go HERE.

Read on. My friends.

 

 

Author ofthe novel Somewhere There’s Music, Sean Paul Bedell has been writing andpublishing for more than 30 years. A longtime paramedic and captain with thefire service, he lives with his wife Lisa and their golden retriever, Maggie(Margaret Atwood), in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia.

 

Title:

 

Synopsis:

In this gritty and emotional exploration of the human condition, adedicated paramedic, Steve Lewis, faces the devastating aftermath of afatal collision that casts a dark shadow over his once-passionatecommitment to saving lives. Plagued by guilt and grief, he finds his career,family, and very existence hanging in the balance as he navigates thecomplexities of trauma both personal and professional. As Steve grapples withthe high stakes of his job amidst the scrutiny of a community that admires yetquestions him, each life he saves rekindles his passion for his work, remindinghim of the profound connections he can forge through compassion and care. Acompelling and visceral journey of personal redemption and triumph overadversity, Shoebox explores the human spirit's capacity forhealing.

 

TheStory Behind the Story:

Two things droveme to write Shoebox. First, readers of my first novel, Somewhere There’sMusic, frequently told me they liked the paramedic-ambulance-firstresponder angles in that story. Also I had a bunch of paramedic stories – sad,funny, poignant – from my own career as a paramedic. I worked ambulance formany years in the Halifax-Dartmouth area and along Nova Scotia’s Eastern Shore.As I wrote Shoebox, experiences that my fellow crew-mates and I hadshaped some of the anecdotes in the book. Overall though, Shoebox is astory of redemption after tragedy, and the healing that hope offers.

 

Website: please go HERE.

Scribbler: Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up, Sean?

Sean: Growing up, I read everything I could. When I was twelve, my mother gave me a boxed set of classics. I immersed myself in those books. Exciting, exotic worlds enchanted me. My favourites were Treasure Island and Robinson Crusoe.




An Excerpt from: Shoebox

Chapter One 

My ambulance was based at University Station, theoldest f ire station in Halifax. In the year I worked there, I’d seen thesandstone building’s interior walls transform from frost-caked blocks in thewinter to oven-like bricks in the summer. A brass pole that connected thefirefighters’ sleeping quarters to the bays downstairs was cordoned off now,out of service. Two of the old-timers at the station still polished it everyweek so it gleamed when the sun hit it through the arched windows. If I everdid use it, to speed up my time getting to my ambulance, I’d look like thatserpent, curled fetus-like around the pole. I’d pop out at the other end intothe truck bays, freshly born to dispense miracles everywhere, sent out into thechaotic world to save lives. I would be one with the image emblazoned in theblue, six-pointed star of life crest on my ambulance, the same imageembroidered on the shoulder flashes of my uniform shirt. Instead, to get to myambulance, I’d bound down the narrow staircase that had three twists, each witha tiny landing. Legend said the staircase was designed during the days of horsedrawn fire apparatus. The tight turns prevented the horses from climbing up thestairs. I didn’t care about blocking horses but wanted to get to my ambulancewithout breaking my neck or knocking myself out.

 

University Station was smack in the centre ofdowntown, a hotbed of the wildest calls a crew of medics could get dis patchedto. It was at the crossroads of the wealth of Halifax’s South End and the gritand despair of its downtown. Calls were either dramatic or mundane. They rangedfrom stints fighting with newly liberated drunken university students out ofsight of their parents for the first time; to the breathing or heart problemsof the old, rich elites; to the homeless and addicted who had skidded here fromacross the province and toted their demons with them. I worked withFletch—Gideon Fletcher. He was a tall medic with a tidy grey beard. Hisdeliberate, erudite manner of speaking, along with his appearance, made himseem like a mis placed professor from one of the city’s universities.

 

Fletch stocked a bird feeder so he could watchchickadees and jays from the window upstairs in our quarters. Once, when wewere coding to a call from Graham’s Grove to downtown Dartmouth, Fletch jammedup the brakes by Sullivan’s Pond to let a mother duck and her ducklings crossthe road. A lot of medics would have roared through with a trail of feathersbehind them; they would have plowed through anything to get to the call to savethe day. That call past the duck pond turned out to be anything but an emergency.Fletch was down to earth, wise, kind, and didn’t take any bullshit.

 

Buy the book HERE.

This one too, maybe?

 

I’m looking forward to reading your new book, Sean. Thanksfor being our guest this week.

We wish you continued success with your writing. 

Thankyou to all our visitors and readers.

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