Featured Author - Katherine Pym

 

I am BWL Publishing Inc. author Katherine Pym. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://bookswelove.net/pym-katherine/

Research is the crux of my stories:

Several years ago, I made a life decision to live in England and write a novel. One day, I wandered into a used bookstore to find the full diary of Samuel Pepys. I remembered reading of him in high school and had an immediate affinity with him. So, I purchased the whole set by Bell, published in the early 20^th century. The books were filled with everyday life, his thoughts, fears, and actions, but looking at it from a 400 year time span, most of what he wrote could have been in Sanskrit. Written in the common language of the time, there were fads and expressions never before seen. I had to learn more of that era to understand the content of Pepys’ life.

So, I began to study London during the mid-17^th century. I used footnotes from the diary then followed up with the bibliography, or source notes. I studied all aspects of the 1660’s until I understood Pepys’ era and the local language he used.

He was a man of his time with frailties that all humans have, and he was not shy about telling them. He noted news of the day, gossip, and the newest plays. He wrote a song and had his portrait made with the score in hand. He was deeply curious about almost everything, including the budding sciences and medical procedures. He was sexually active and had mistresses, but due to surgery for kidney stones at the age of 25, he was infertile and never produced offspring.

Sam wrote of his wife’s illnesses, her frustrations even as he dismissed them. He left her for long periods during the day while on Navy business. He studied the craft, the details, and asked for help when he needed it. In the end, despite the laissez-faire of his aristocratic bosses, he pulled a ramshackle organization of the Navy together. I attribute Samuel Pepys as the father of the current British Navy because of the changes he sought in the mid-17^th century.

When I thought I’d learned enough to understand the world in which he lived, I sat down and began my 1660 London series of books, from the onset of the Restoration to the pretty much death of central London by burning.

If we think our current world is tumultuous, think again. During the early to mid-17^th century, London experienced civil wars, regicide with the beheading of Charles I, a period of time with Cromwell as leader and its Puritan ethics.

When one dives into a period of history, one learns all sorts of strange things, like when Cromwell died. Stories conflict as to what happened to the body, how it had to be quickly buried because the coffin oozed wet, stinky filth. Then, while people whispered Charles’ name, men of title who had followed Cromwell, worked behind the scenes to bring Charles back from exile. Sam Pepys had the opportunity to accompany his mentor to The Hague and retrieve the new king.

When I read this in the diary, I had to learn of wooden sailing ships, and how they were run, what the men ate, how they slept in tightfitting quarters. One night in heavy seas, the window leaked. Water funneled into Pepys’ mouth, nearly drowning him. Little things like this make research rewarding and adds dimension to a story.  

This sent me into 1661, the king’s coronation, and my story of twins where a superstition persisted that a man could only sire one child at a time. If his wife had twins, she was considered adulterous. But what about royal twins? Surely, somewhere over the centuries a queen gave birth to twins. How realistic is it to think a king squirreled away the extra child to avoid conflict later?

In 1662, I used the background of a bakeshop to explore spies in London. 1663 formed my interest in Early Modern England’s science and medicine, some treatments quite shocking. There was a great deal of bigamy then, and I explored that aspect as well. Then we come to 1664 when the London merchants hankered for war with the Dutch. More spy stories. 1665 everything came to a halt with war, the plague, then in 1666, I burned London to the ground. Almost.  

I was given the honor to co-write a story of Canada Brides, where we brought to life Sara and David Kirke. A true-life couple, their love and strengths met the challenge of dividing their time between London and Newfoundland where they colonized and made a great fishery. To this day, an annual award is given to women entrepreneurs in Sara Kirke’s name.  

I have other stories, but I am most proud of my 17^th century novels where the history is as close as I can get to the reader ‘being there’ as my characters explore life. Pepys is never mentioned, but he is there in spirit, holding a ‘lanthorn’ as the reader explores the dank streets of old London.

An excerpt from Highwayman (London 1666):

Suddenly, unholy screeches enveloped the house. Merry jigs halted; fear danced upon the servants’ miens. Whilst lusty pipe notes flattened, everyone fled to the parlour.

Grandfather’s cadaver grunted and groaned. His arms flailed. Linen still upon his face, he cried, “I doth knew it. Thou art eating me out of house and home. I shall cry up the constable for riotous, thieving behaviour. You’ll see the dark side of gaol this very night.”

The corpse sat up, his hand brushing against the maid, who fell into wild screaming fits. “Spectre, spectre!” Goggle-eyed and slathering, she grabbed the iron pan from the hearth ash and swung it above her head.

Too shocked to react, Geoffrey stood rooted to the spot like a damned stick.

With a mighty heave, the maid clapped the ghostie on the head, a froth of soot flying about the chamber.

Bone cracked, a loud gasp stilled the babble. Grandfather’s carcass fell back into the coffin.

An excerpt from Pillars of Avalon (17^th century London/Newfoundland):

Humility pierced the blanket of his confusion. David rose and faced his king.

Maxwell relieved the sword from His Majesty and set it on the table. He opened his mouth to say something but the king raised his hand. “You are now a peer, Kirke. I hope by all that is sacred, you hold this privilege dear.” He regarded David expectantly.

David lowered his gaze. “I do, Sire.”

“Then go forth and honour me.”

Maxwell motioned for him to move to the end of the table where the gentleman held a parchment, embossed with the king’s Great Seal. “Your certificate, my lord.”

Before David took the parchment, his name scribed in bold letters, the gentleman withdrew it. “You are English.”

“Aye.”

“Since being knighted in Scotland, you must take this to Lyon King of Arms in Edinburgh.” He gazed at him. “Do you understand?”

David nodded. “I do.” He could not fathom these men with their veiled animosity.

The gentleman released the document into his hand. As David backed away from the king, His Majesty stepped up to him. Thoughtful, he stroked his beard.

David bowed, showing a leg. “Your Majesty?”

“Rise.”

David straightened.

King Charles gazed at him, his soft brown eyes tinged with bitterness. “I forgive thee, Kirke.” He stepped closer and whispered, “Aye, I forgive thee for the ills you have done me.”