Author: Tracey Richardson

Tracey Richardson has had several novels published by Bella Books, two of which were Lambda Literary Awards finalists. Semi-retired now from a long-time journalism career, Tracey spends as much time writing and reading as her two demanding chocolate Labrador retrievers will allow. She also enjoys playing hockey, golf, and occasionally teaches fiction writing. History, politics and time travel are among her more exotic reading material. www.traceyrichardson.net; Twitter @trich7117.

Starting Again

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Happy New Year, everyone!

Are you into resolutions? Starting something new with the new year? 

For me, although it’s not new, it’s fiction writing. So it’s more of a return to something. After my last novel came out in September, 2022 (“Ten Days in May”), I took a long break from writing. Well over a year, in fact. Through the books (and the years), I’ve taken longer breaks between manuscripts. I marvel at how I used to write a book a year while working a full-time job. Now I’m mostly retired and I’m writing a book every couple of years. Go figure!

So if you’re diving back into writing after a long break (because hey, life gets in the way more often than we would like), I’ve got some tips that have helped ease the transition for me.

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IS IT REAL OR IS IT FICTION

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Have you ever got caught up in a novel that seemed so rich in detail, so real, that you thought for certain the author must have lived that experience?

I mean, we know we’re reading a novel, which, by definition, is fiction. Yet how come a scene or a character will resonate so thoroughly that you find yourself wondering about the author’s real life? Surely an author who can write with such emotion, such clarity, must have experienced what his/her character is going through? Or at the very least, they must share a lot of the same traits as their character.

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Forget Writing Festivals—take a Book Holiday

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Bronze statues of Oliver St. John Gogarty and James Joyce outside the pub of the same name in Temple Bar Dublin.

Ever get tired of those bookshelves of yours bursting with unread books that you just can’t get excited about reading?

At least once a year, I fall into the book doldrums. It’s a reading lethargy that writers will identify with, because it very much resembles writers’ block. It’s where you can’t get inspired or motivated to read books, and I hate when this happens, because I’ve loved reading books since I first learned how to read.

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Embracing Autumn

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There’s something comforting about autumn.

Perhaps it’s the bounty of all the months spent growing food, and we all know that food is comfort. It’s also comforting to know that it’s that season of warm sweaters, flannel sheets and fireplaces. Doesn’t that visual want to make you curl up with a book in your favourite chair, wrapped in a warm throw blanket in front of the fire?

While it is common to think about cozy scarves and autumnal fruit pies, the symbolic meanings of autumn are more profound than you might think. Ancient cultures, science, and astrology have associated many aspects of this beautiful season to human life. These symbolic associations are powerful reminders that Mother Nature has an incredible influence on our lives. Read more

Letting Go

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“The most exquisite paradox: as soon as you give it all up, you can have it all. As long as you want power, you can’t have it. The minute you don’t want power, you’ll have more than you ever dreamed possible.” ~Ram Dass


As writers, sometimes we want so badly to be published, that we will do just about anything to make that success happen. What ultimately happens is that we get stuck on a gerbil that’s spinning so fast, we can’t get off.

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Are We What We Read?

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You’ve heard that old saying, you are what you eat. In other words, you are a product of what you consume. Okay, so in its literal sense, it’s talking about food, but what about books? When we read a book, does it have the ability to shape how we think? How we feel? In other words, can it change us?


Of course books have that kind of power. Books can change lives. Books can save lives. Books can open eyes and minds. But what I want to talk about is how the books we read reflect our mood and feed our mood, and ultimately can change our mood.


Yes, books are a drug in that respect. They’re medicine. At least for me. The pandemic has taken a toll on most people’s mental health, and I’m no different. And not just the pandemic, but the Trump-inspired nonsense down south, the residential school saga, the racist mass killing in London, Ont. It’s been a tough fifteen months. No, make that a shitty fifteen months.

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Read What You DON’T Write

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I saw a Tweet the other day from Canadian author Andrew Pyper promoting a course he’s teaching on writing suspense and it reminded me of something.

Pyper is a good writer. I’ve read some of his books before and he’s the kind of writer who has the skill and talent to write any genre he wants. Those are the kind of writers I like to read. But what his Tweet reminded me of is that for a romance writer such as myself, there are many little tricks in the suspense author’s bag that can be helpful to a writer like myself.

Currently I’m reading Don Winslow’s “Broken”, a collection of novellas based on his drug cartel fiction series that includes “The Power of The Dog”, “The Cartel” and “The Border”, all based on the Mexican drug war. I love Winslow’s books because they’re fast paced, very suspenseful and well written. He knows how to tell a good story, and that’s why I’m reading “Broken”. Read more

My Most Difficult Subject Yet

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Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about death and dying.

Mostly it’s because I’m starting a new romance novel that features a character who is a death doula (cue the jokes and the confusion about writing a romance novel around death, haha!). But I suppose it’s also because I’m in the latter half of my own life now and have elderly parents and in-laws, and so it seems like the right time to delve into this great and final mystery. Plus, I like to challenge my writer’s self with unusual topics.

There is another reason, too. Frankly, I’m a bit haunted.

A former colleague and friend died more than three years ago after a very sudden and short terminal cancer diagnosis. He was only in his early 50s, with two teenagers at home and a wife who was battling her own health issues. He didn’t want to go, understandably so. In the short time he had remaining after his diagnosis, he could not come to terms with his own dying. He became depressed. He cheated himself out of talking about it, of comforting his family, of allowing himself to be comforted, and of coming to some kind of peace with how his life was going to end. Things progressed so quickly, that my goodbye had to be in the form of an email that was read out loud to him. Read more