Bewitching Felines by Eden Monroe

Visit Eden Monroe's BWL author page for details and retailer purchase links

 

Ahhh, bewitching felines…. I lost my heart to them many years ago.

Our first cat at home was named Tiny, because she was, well … tiny, and I loved her completely with a child’s trust that she would live forever. But of course she didn’t, and I can still feel that horrible wrenching grief when she met an untimely end. I was the one who found her and it was my first experience with that kind of loss.

There have been several others who have soft-footed their way through my days, both real and imagined. Like the very spicy Cinnamon in Almost Broken:

“The telephone stopped ringing, finally, and as she stood there willing herself to relax, a dark orange ball of fluff strutted proprietorially into the hallway, stopping for a moment to massage the beige tufted hall runner with extended claws. It created a rhythmic picking sound that would only be appreciated for its usefulness by another feline, and never by an antique wool rug.

‘Cinnamon, you stop that,’ Viola scolded the cat gently, having recovered herself. ‘You’re going to damage my runner. I’ll put you in the back room and leave you there if you keep it up, my dear.’

The cat ceased its mistreatment of the hall runner as requested, regarding her mistress with wide olive green eyes that said she knew Viola would do no such thing….”

It’s been said that animals sense when people are good, or maybe they simply respond to whatever good there is in a person. Viola Callaghan in Almost Broken was not a nice person by anyone’s description, but she loved her cat. It seems that was one of her few redeeming features:

“Cinnamon yowled impatiently again, clearly not pleased that Odell was in the house. The cat tolerated him at best, hissing if he took liberties such as trying to pet her long thick fur, tickling her behind her ears or trying to get her to play with her yarn toy, dangling it annoyingly in her face. That was last week, and she’d ignored it with a sour look, stomping away in disdain. He got on her wrong side just by being here because she was fiercely protective of Viola, and Odell had felt the sting of her claws often enough to verify that.

‘I’ve got to feed the cat,’ Viola explained when the yowling shot up a notch. ‘She’s on a schedule and I have to keep to it because she’s diabetic.’

‘I thought it was her thyroid.’

‘It is, and during her last check-up they discovered diabetes, so….’

‘Well, she’s old, but she couldn’t ask to be any better cared for. You are devoted to that cat.’

Viola stooped and picked up the cat, Cinnamon settling into her arms and immediately beginning to purr loudly. ‘She’s the only one I have in this world who loves me unconditionally, so why wouldn’t I be devoted to her?’’”

The most recent feline star of my life was Daisy, for fifteen years anyway, and she was actually part of every BWL book in the about the author section. She was amazing, thirteen pounds of feisty devotion.

I remember the day Daisy came into my life, a spirited, orphaned, barn kitten. She made her debut the day after the exterior boards on the barn had been oiled. That’s when we saw this little cream coloured kitten march out of a horse stall early one spring morning. She was maybe four or five weeks old at best, with a jet black nose, matching ears, tail (white tip) and paws (except for one cream-coloured toe), and our first thought was oh no, she must have gotten into some barn oil residue. But how was that even possible? Any unused product had been safely stored away when the job was done, but however it happened, she would have to be cleaned immediately.

On closer inspection we saw that it was not oil at all, those were her natural markings! So … how on earth did a Himalayan kitten get in the barn where that spring’s crop of feline babies were either orange, grey, white, black or an interesting combination thereof? Only Daisy had Himalayan markings; the typical flat face, pretty blue eyes, and a bit of orange on her forehead, obviously in salute to a ginger tabby mother who was apparently now missing. And where had the kitten been all this time? It seems her mother had gotten into a small opening in front of one of the horse stalls and had her baby in there.

We placed Daisy with another mother cat and her kittens in the haymow, and she was quickly accepted, the latest addition soon nursing contentedly.

The mystery of Daisy was solved the very next day at the local convenience store when I saw a lost pet poster for Gabriel, a beautiful Himalayan tomcat. So we knew where at least one of his stops had been while he was on the lam.

At about eight weeks Daisy made the journey from the barn to the house in a pet carrier, and to ease that transition we brought along another kitten, Irene, whom Daisy had become attached to.

And so continued Daisy’s life on the farm, still as feisty as ever, with one feline fiasco after another. Such as leaping unexpectedly onto the bannister at the top of the stairs. When she reached the bottom she flew through the air and landed with a thud. Another vet visit, but there were no injuries and in a couple of days she was raring to go again

When she and Irene were spayed, we had to keep them both quiet for a few days. Once home I opened the door to the pet carrier and Daisy shot out like a cannonball, leapt into the air and flipped over onto her back. The vet said I should bring her in right away to be checked, and Irene watched from her little bed as we loaded Daisy into the carrier once again. Thankfully though, Daisy’s stitches had held.

She was sassy and irreverent by times and doled out affection strictly on her terms. If you violated that trust with an impromptu hug or tickle you were soon to know it wouldn’t be tolerated. Still, she was loving and loyal and enjoyed keeping me company when I wrote. She was my muse.

Daisy left us in June of 2021, her health slowly going downhill during the two years prior to her death. Her vet had warned me that her breed would likely only live to the age of fifteen or sixteen, and with the aid of regular meds she made it just two months beyond her fifteenth birthday. And then things took a dramatic turn and sadly it was the end of the road. We miss her terribly; I still expect to see her around every corner, even after all this time. I couldn’t even write about her until now because it was just too difficult; the painful goodbye still too fresh. But I want to remember her in a significant way, and so this is for her

Writing During Vampire Hours -- Secrets Writers Keep By Connie Vines #Writing Tips, #NightOwls, #Cowboys, #Western Romance, #Fantasy

⏰🦇🌙 

Vampire Hours?

According to the Urban Dictionary:

When someone keeps vampire hours, they are awake all night and sleep all day. They are unreachable by phone, text, or social media during daylight hours when the rest of their friends are up.

While I do not sleep all day...  

"I don't 'rise' from my bed at sunrise, either.  😎. 

🌞 vs. 🧛

The conventional wisdom is that morning people are high achievers and go-getters, while late risers are lazy. But what if going to bed in the wee hours is actually an advantage?

🕯  On the school site before 7:00 a.m. was my day job (my-oh-my was that torture.) until I recently retired.

The Wonder Years

Staggering into the kitchen, adjusting the curtains so that I was not blinded by the sunrise. And wondering how I was going to get through the day on 4 or maybe 5 hours of sleep.

Wondering: Would I wake up if I spent my lunch break in the car and fell asleep?  

Wondering why I could only write at night? Life would be simpler if I could write during my lunchtime. Le Sigh.

Admissions

While I don't broadcast to the world, I write until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning; nothing goes unnoticed when you live in the burbs. 😎 

Everyone is up at sunrise going to work or working in his/her front yard. 

I wear sunglasses at 10 a.m. when I check the mail. No one 'sees me' until an hour or two before sunset when I sit on my front patio with a cup of coffee. 

They all seem to go to bed (all lights out between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m.) not long after sunset.

My sweet neighbor across the street said, "Whenever I get up at night, your lights are still on..."

"I know..." 😉

🦇 Writing should never be a race to the finish. It should be an extended immersion in a hot tub or a relaxing meditation. Good writers write at night because it's devoid of distraction, there's nothing else left to do in the day, and there's no one else to hurry to.

🦇Bursts of inspiration like this at night frequently within the creative community. Writers, artists, and inventors throughout history have all said they've been most inspired during night-time— think of Tennesee Williams. He spent so much of the night writing he would be found asleep in his bed the next morning, still wearing the same clothes as the day before (source: Williams' notebooks). (Connie doesn't do this.)  

📖📱💻

Do you have a favorite time you like to read?

Please visit my website/blog. Remember my books are on sale at Smashwords, too.

Happy Reading, everyone.

Connie Vines

XOXO

Website: https://connievines-author.com/

Blog: http://mizging.blogspot.com/

https://bookswelove.net/vines-connie/

https://books2read.com/Gumbo-Ya-Ya

https://books2read.com/Lynx

https://books2read.com/Brede

https://books2read.com/Tanayia

https://books2read.com/Here-Today-Zombie-Tomorrow

Editing a book, like editing a movie – by Vijaya Schartz

Available on amazon - B&N - Smashwords - Kobo

I recently watched a documentary on film editing that got me thinking. The Cutting Edge: The Magic of Movie Editing is a 2004 documentary film directed by filmmaker Wendy Apple. The film is about the art of film editing. Clips are shown from many groundbreaking films with innovative editing styles. It’s available on several streaming services, and you can also find it here: 

https://www.amazon.com/Cutting-Edge-Magic-Movie-Editing/dp/B0009PVZEG

When I watched this documentary, I couldn’t help making comparisons. To me, it was exactly like editing a book. Action and reaction, how to handle dialogue, what to cut and what to keep, what to enhance and what to gloss over, closeup vs. wide lens, seamless transitions, when to speed up and when to slow down, pace and rhythm, focus, and using all these elements together or one by one, to enhance emotions. 

I’m often told my books are fast paced and read like movies, and maybe that’s the reason. I think like a movie editor. I’m very visual, and in my head, when I write I see the scene on a big screen in full action and color. After all, no matter the medium, writers like film makers are first and foremost storytellers. 

From this documentary, I also learned that film editors in the early stages were women and remained anonymous. Later, when it became clear that editing was an important part of the creative process, more men joined the teams. Only recently did film editors get recognized by the movie industry and received well deserved awards. 

Bad editing can ruin a good movie, and brilliant editing can save a mediocre one. So, it also is in book editing. 

That’s why I like to take time to thoroughly rewrite and edit my books like a movie, cutting, pacing, enhancing, and moving paragraphs around, breaking up descriptions and sprinkling them as dialogue tags, removing the fat, then looking for inconsistencies. Editing a book is not just looking for typos or grammar mistakes, although I hunt for them relentlessly. 

After I’ve done my very best and I like the final result, I send my new baby to my publisher… then I pray they like it, and hope my publisher’s editor will catch what I didn’t. 

I’m currently working on ANGEL SHIP, the first book in a new science fiction fantasy series (BLUE PHANTOM) set in the Azura Universe, and scheduled for release in October. 

In the meantime, you can read the two other series in the Azura Universe: Byzantium and Azura Chronicles. Available on amazon - B&N - Smashwords - Kobo

Vijaya Schartz, author

Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats

http://www.vijayaschartz.com

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How do you choose your character’s names—Tricia McGill

Find all my books here on my BWL Author page

We writers get asked many questions. Main one being, “Where do you get your ideas from?” Next on the list is, “Don’t you run out of ideas?” Then there’s, “How do you choose the names?”

Of course, we do not have trouble answering these queries as after years of writing the main one comes easily. Our ideas come from our imaginations. We all have one of these, just some use it more than others. Since I was knee high to a grass hopper I have dreamt, and can honestly say still do most nights. Sometimes I awake with the dream still there vividly and at other times it is just a thought that drifts into my sleep and slips out again as swiftly and can barely be recalled next morning.

My latest book is another Australian historical. I love writing about Australia’s vivid past so it seemed practical to begin another. As far as naming my characters goes, I rarely have trouble finding names for my main characters. I already more or less know the characteristics of the person, their age, their personalities, so their names seem to come naturally. As this book is set in 1860 Australia, I can’t give them modern names although of course some names are still as popular now as they were back then. When I take a look through the current popular names for boys I see that Jack, William, Thomas and Henry are still going strong. As far as girls go, Charlotte, Amelia, Grace and Chloe are still popular and will probably always live on. My mother’s name was Annie, so that will always remain one of my favourites and is timeless.

My hero’s name this time is Walter (Walt) as it suits him to a tee, and my heroine is Faith of the title which is, ‘For The Love of Faith’. Good solid old Walt is always there for Faith who deserves his devotion. I seem to have more trouble finding names for my secondary characters as we do not want them to outshine our main people. Often I will name one of the secondary characters and out of the blue decide to change it. Thank heaven for good old ‘find and replace’.

I do have a lot of characters who play a very small part in my stories so to me their names are often just as important. I always keep a running character chart as it wouldn’t be a good idea to start calling somebody Charlie and then on the next page rename him George. My characters are very important to me so must be named carefully. 

Visit my web page for excerpts and more

Adjectives - avoid or use?

https://bookswelove.net/martin-paula/ 

Adjectives

When I was at school (a long time ago!), my English teachers insisted we used lots of adjectives to make our writing more descriptive.  In contrast, writers today are warned against the overuse of adjectives. 

Various reasons are given for this: too many adjectives give your novel a ‘purple prose’ tint, or clutter the text with unnecessary modifiers, or give the impression that the writer cannot quite find the right word.

Mark Twain said: "As to the adjective, when in doubt, strike it out."

The question is – which adjectives should you strike out?

First there are the redundant adjectives – the tiny kitten (aren’t all kittens tiny?), the large giant (ever seen a small giant?), the narrow alley (an alley IS a narrow passage), the cold snow (if snow wasn’t cold, it would be water!). Omit the adjective if the noun is self-explanatory.

Secondly, there are the adjectives which can be replaced with a much more descriptive word e.g. ‘a downpour flooded the streets’ instead of ‘heavy rain flooded the streets’, or ‘the witch cackled’ instead of ‘the witch gave an evil, sharp laugh’.

There are also some adjectives which have become almost meaningless and should be avoided (except occasionally in dialogue), including wonderful, lovely, gorgeous, stupid, foolish, horrid – and the obvious one, nice.

However, a story without any adjectives could end up as very clinical and dry. As with most things, moderation is the key. We are not advised to avoid adjectives altogether, but to avoid overusing them. Eliminating all adjectives would be as big a mistake as overusing them. Adjectives can clarify meaning and add colour to our writing, and can be used to convey the precise shade of meaning we want to achieve. We should save them for the moments when we really need them and then use them selectively – and sparsely. 

Adjectives should only be used to highlight something the noun can’t highlight. We’ve already seen that the ‘narrow alley’ has a redundant adjective, but what about the ‘dark alley’ or the ‘filthy alley’?  Not all alleys are dark or filthy so in these examples, the adjectives are adding something that is not already shown by the noun. This is the main reason for using an adjective.

And now I'm off to take my own advice and look through my ms. for redundant adjectives!

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Sayings by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

 

 https://www.audible.ca/pd/Romancing-the-Klondike-Yukon-Audiobook/B09Y62PLWV?ref=a_series_Ca_c10_lProduct_1_3&pf_rd_p=e54256e9-89bd-44c1-980b-adcad688db4e&pf_rd_r=B5Z5R0XQPVWE3PBDZP1P

https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

Be Careful What You Wish For is an old saying with an ominous warning to it and Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining is also an old saying but it has an upbeat tone to it. Both of them apply to my story.

Be Careful What You Wish For

For years women who had had breast cancer surgery were told not to use their arms for any strenuous activity for fear of causing lymphedema, a build up of fluid in the arm. Don McKenzie, a Canadian sports medicine specialist at the University of British Columbia, opposed this idea. In 1996, he formed a dragon boat team composed of 24 women with a history of breast cancer in Vancouver, B.C. They called themselves Abreast in a Boat. And they proved that strenuous exercise was good for their arms and for their overall health.

A few years later, they entered in the Vancouver dragon boat festival and I saw them on the television news. I had never heard of dragon boating before and I said to my husband. "That looks like fun. I'd like to try it sometime."

In January of 2001, I was doing a breast self examination and found a small lump. My annual mammogram at the Breast Centre in Edmonton was scheduled for February but I called the centre and told them my news. They booked me an appointment in two days. Although no one said the C word, after the questions, the mammogram, and the ultrasound, I was pretty sure it was cancer. Then I was told that I needed a biopsy and that it could be scheduled for the next week. However, they added "We have an opening in the next hour and we can do it today." I knew for sure it was cancer.

At my pre-op session a woman came in to tell me about a group of women living with cancer or who had had breast cancer that met every month for coffee and to offer support. I asked her if she knew of a breast cancer survivor dragon boat team in the city. She found the contact information for Breast Friends and two weeks after my surgery I joined the team. I wasn't allowed to get in the boat until three months after my last radiation treatment so I didn't get to actually paddle until 2002. Each summer we practiced on the North Saskatchewan River and attended dragon boat festivals in Alberta and British Columbia.

When I moved to Vancouver Island in the fall of 2004, I joined Angels Abreast in Nanaimo. We practiced in Departure Bay (staying out of the way of the ferries) and on the narrow strait between Vancouver and Newcastle islands. We went to festivals up and down the island and in Vancouver.

Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining

In 2006, an international festival was held in Vancouver to celebrate the ten year anniversary of breast cancer dragon boating. Besides the teams from Canadian, teams came from the United States, Australia, New Zealand, Poland, Italy, and Asia. It was great to walk through the paddler's village and meet fellow survivors from around the world.

In Sept. 2007, another international breast cancer festival was held in Caloundra, Queensland, Australia, and Angels Abreast went to that. What a wonderful time we had. The residents of the city were friendly, the venue was excellent, and the hosts did a great job of organizing. The 100 teams of twenty-four paddlers, steersperson, and drummer paraded through the streets dressed in pink, and many people yelled "Canada" or honked their horns when they saw our Canadian flag hanging from our balconies. The festival lasted three days and again I met many special women. After the festival some of us toured around Queensland and New South Wales. We went out to the Great Coral Reef and even with my fear of heights I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge. From Sydney we flew to Fiji for a week.

The next international festival was held in Sarasota, Florida, on October 24, 25, 26, 2014, and the team decided to attend. The other members were going to fly down, tour around some of the sites and head home. I wanted more than that, so my husband, Mike, and I decided to do a three month tour of the U.S. Since I needed to be in Sarasota by October 22 to practice with the team, we picked September 23 as our leaving date and Dec. 16 as our return date. I applied for and was given three months off work.

We had such a great time touring through nineteen states. In Sarasota I stayed in the hotel with my team for the three day event. Again, such a wonderful venue, although at 6:00am it was dark and cool. Once the sun came up, we warmed up fast.

The last international festival was in Florence Italy in 2018. Again, rather than fly there for just the festival and maybe some local touring, I opted to spend nine weeks in Europe. I did two bus tours, travelled by train and stayed in hostels and hotels for eighteen days and then did a Baltic Sea cruise.

Since my diagnosis I have met so many strong, caring, fun-loving women plus I have visited some awesome places around the world. I am now back living in Edmonton and paddling with Breast Friends again. Only one woman is still with the team from when I paddled here years ago.

I am looking forward to paddling this year and many years to come, the silver lining to my cloud.

With This Ring by Victoria Chatham

 

AVAILABLE HERE

 

Here we are in June, the traditional month for weddings. Who doesn’t love a wedding?

As a romance writer, both historical and contemporary, my books invariably have a wedding in them, either actual or implied. But from where did the tradition of weddings and rings originate?

In ancient Rome, June 1^st was a traditional date for a wedding because it was the day to celebrate Juno, the goddess of marriage, childbirth, and feminine vitality. The wife of the god Jupiter, she was also the protectress of Roman women. Wherever the Romans invaded, their gods and goddesses went with them, so it is unsurprising that June became a popular month for weddings throughout Europe and England.

The Goddess Juno

Back then, personal hygiene was next to non-existent, with bathing considered to cause disease rather than prevent it. The nobility might bathe two or three times a year, while the peasantry might only bathe once yearly to get rid of their winter grime, usually in May. It then made sense to marry in June when everyone smelled better. The scent of the flowers that bloomed in June could mask any lingering or beginning body odours, so brides carried bouquets of sweet-smelling flowers mixed with herbs.

Pregnancy in the first few months of marriage was also a serious consideration. It meant that a wife would still be fit enough to help with the harvest that year and would have had the baby and therefore be fit enough to work in the fields the following year and after that. No such thing as a welfare state or maternity leave in those days.

As for the wedding ring tradition, we apparently have our heavy-browed ancient ancestors, the Neanderthals, to thank for that. They wove twigs or reeds into rings to symbolize commitment. Later, the Ancient Egyptians made rings from bone, ivory, wood, leather, or hemp. Rings were worn on the fourth finger of the left hand as it was thought the vein in that finger connected to the heart. Today science has disproved that theory, but romantically wedding rings are still worn on that finger. Eventually, wedding rings were made from metal and were known as ‘ring money.’ By law, once a woman accepted such a ring, she would then have a claim on her husband’s possessions, a far cry from later times when a woman’s wealth went to her husband.

The Greeks adopted the tradition of giving rings after Alexander the Great conquered Egypt, and then the Romans adopted the custom after they conquered the Greeks. The Romans were a little more romantic as they often marked their rings with the symbol of a key. Like the Ancient Egyptians, a ring indicated the woman’s right to her husband’s possessions, but the key indicated that she had unlocked his heart.  

In Medieval England, getting married was often no more than an agreement between the bride and groom, with the groom giving his intended a ring with no clergy or witnesses involved. This meant that should a dispute arise, either party could dispute the agreement. In the 12^th Century, the Christian Church declared marriage a holy sacrament and established the church ceremony.

St. Cyr's Church, Stonehouse, UK

During the Medieval period in England and Europe, the wealthy began to have rings made from gold, a token that showed a man’s promise was ‘as good as gold.’ To flaunt their wealth, prospective grooms offered their brides gold rings set with rubies representing passion, sapphires representing the heavens, and diamonds denoting steadfast strength. The earliest record of diamonds used in an engagement ring was in 1477.

Today rings for both bride and groom come in many different materials. Gold, white gold, and platinum bands can be embedded with precious stones or not, depending on the couples’ requirements. At one time, the groom gave his wife a ring. Men did not begin to wear wedding rings until WWII as a means of carrying their loved ones with them when they went off to war. Although weddings can and do take place during any month of the year, June is still a most popular month. Were you perhaps a June bride?

 

 

 

 

Victoria Chatham

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 Images

St Cyr's from author's collection

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Small towns and big crimes

 My Pine County series is set in an area blessed with geography that makes it ideal for the mystery genre. As a former Pine County Sheriff said, "The county is half swamp. It's the perfect locale for the disposal of dead bodies." Pine County, in east central Minnesota, is 1,500 square miles of what used to be rocky farms, state forests, and swamps. The farms and farm buildings have fallen into disrepair as it became impossible to eke out a living on a 40-acre family farm tract. The small towns, especially those bypassed by I-35, have shriveled. What's a mystery author to do when most of the towns in the county have a population of less than 300 people?

Well, it is fiction, isn't it? Look at the wonderful British Midsomer Murders television series. They've done a dozen or more episodes a year, all set in fictional Midsomer County. Many episodes kill off 3-5 people. After 22 seasons, I expect the population of Midsomer is down to four cops and the undertaker!

I struggle a bit with the same issue in Pine County. After eight books, I've killed off someone in every large municipality in the county! So, I moved book 9 to the tiny town of Askov. In the early 1900s, it was a bustling community of Danish residents. It's now much smaller, and quieter than during its heyday. I'm not saying it's dead. Not at all. They still host an annual Rutabaga Days Festival on the 4th Saturday in August. A rutabaga queen is crowned, there is a venue selling rutabaga-flavored malted milks (there's always a line, so they must be tasty), and there's a parade. Last year's parade featured several floats, and the sheriff's mounted posse. Interestingly, they had the politicians walk behind the horse-mounted posse, which led to a (sort of) slalom around the horse droppings. Politicians, being focused on shaking hands and kissing babies, didn't always step around all the horse "apples" being deposited in the road. I was initially surprised, then saw the humor in the arrangement.

(7) Askov Rutabaga Festival | Facebook

Anyway, back to the setting: In choosing a very small town, I was forced to invent a business that doesn't exist. Aside from a fictional tire business, every small town has its own characters, rumors, pecking order, and murder motives. Without digging into the affairs of the Askov residents, I created a cast of fictional characters who have all the quirky personalities of any North American small town. There's a salt-of-the-earth farm couple who welcome the police surveillance team into their barn, then nearly blow the whole operation by bringing them coffee and meals. There's a business staffed by white-collar parolees from the local prison (suspects in every local crime). There's a family business with grown children who don't want to work in "dad's" miserable shop. And there are my favorite Pine County Deputies, who are dedicated, smart, a little sassy, and sometimes irreverent. One Arizona reader pointed out that his greatest appreciation of the Pine County Deputies is their ability to consume copious amount of coffee without making any bathroom stops. (I'll have to work on that.)

If you happen to be in Askov at noon on July 16, please stop off at the Pine County Historical Society. They've invited me for Askov's first-ever book reading. Afterwards, tour the exhibits, or drop into the Little Mermaid Cafe for a cup of coffee. 

Writing a Gothic with my Granddaughter, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

To purchase my novels and other BWL books: BWL

I had a crazy idea, since the young adult market is so hot, and my granddaughter loves spooky stories, why don't we create a Gothic novel together? She was thrilled. 

At age twelve Jorja reads at a higher level, and enjoys Anima, and other wild Japanese-inspired cartoons.

She also warned that she tends toward the very macabre. So watch out, Grammie!

I might have to tone her down for the general young adult market, lol

So far we have a title, The Unfortunate Events at Lakelustre House. 

We have the names of the three children who will unveil, or attempt to, the mystery and murders. One child has a connection to the neglected house through a relative.

Jorja picked the state where the creepy mansion is located, Massachusetts. Near Salem, perhaps?

And the basic premise for the beginning of the story.

What will they discover, and what lessons will be learned? If it's for twelve years and up, there should be a lesson.

Now, what is required in a YA Gothic?

And can I rein in my modern granddaughter's macabre imagination?

According to an article by Amanda Pagan, Children's Librarian at the New York Public Library: "the overarching genre is generally defined by a focus on bleak, creepy, and unsettling settings and characters." and "Rooted in the traditions set forth by Edgar Allan Poe, Ann Radcliff and Bram Stoker, young adult gothic fiction features tales of terror and romance aimed at a teen audience."

I doubt my granddaughter will agree to the 'romance' part. (wink); and the main characters will only be twelve and thirteen.

The important thing, other than a riveting novel, is spending quality time with my oldest grandgirl. 

The only other Gothic-like novel I've written is A Savage Exile, vampires with Napoleon on St. Helena. And I enjoyed delving into the macabre.

Now to drag that girl away from her phone and get writing!

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

To find out more about her and her books:  DianeScottLewis

Blind Dates and June Brides by J.Q. Rose

Arranging a Dream: A Memoir
by J.Q. Rose

Arranging a Dream: a Memoir by J.Q. Rose

In 1975, Ted and Janet with their one-year-old baby girl move all their earthly belongings to Michigan to make their dream of owning a greenhouse operation come true. Through tears and laughter they cultivate their loving marriage, juggle parenting and dig deep to root a thriving floral and greenhouse business.

Click here to discover more books by J.Q. Rose 

on her BWL Publishing author page.  

💕 💕 💕

Hello and welcome to the BWL Publishing Authors Insider Blog! 

Yesterday was Father's Day, Sunday, June 19, in the US. We honor and remember all those fathers and men who are important in a child's life. 

Father's Day is right in the middle of a crazy week for us. Our anniversary was June 14 (and always Flag Day in the US), Father's Day, June 19, and my hubby's birthday, June 20.

Little did we know when we set the date for our wedding, we would have such a week of special days. I did not know June 14 was Flag Day until my maiden Aunt Elizabeth told me. She was a civics teacher, so when I said, "Ted and I have decided to get married on June 14." Instead of smiling and saying, "Congratulations," she said, "That's Flag Day." Yes, that would be typical of my dear Great Aunt Elizabeth. She liked Ted very much, but I think I flummoxed her when I told her we were getting married.

Wedding Cake Fun

Ted and I met on a blind date in 1963, the summer before our junior year in high school. 

My mom loved him from the moment she pulled back the curtain from the window and peeked out at the young man who was stepping up the stairs to our front porch. She turned back to me, her eyes twinkling, and whispered, "He's cute!"

I opened the front door, smiling as bright as I could while trying to keep the butterflies in my tummy in check. He stood tall and fidgeted a bit as his dark brown eyes caught mine. I had to agree with Mom. He was a cutie.

We had a great time at the Illinois State Fair with his older sister and her date and Freddie, who arranged the blind date, and his girlfriend. However, his sister's 1947 Chevy broke down in Springfield, IL as we started the hour's drive back to Atlanta, my hometown. Instead of getting home by midnight as my parents requested, we arrived at 3 a.m. Yes, we did find a phone to call home to let everyone know we were going to be late.

I remember writing in my diary the next day that if I never had another date in my life, it would be okay. I was in love with Ted.

Junior Prom

We went steady through our junior year, broke up, got back together, broke up after graduation so he could go to the Air Force, and I could experience college life. We got back together, broke up, and so it goes. Can you blame me when I told him to either marry me or get out of my life? 

By that time, I was teaching third grade in Galesburg, IL, and he was working for AT&T in Champaign, IL.  We were parked in a grassy area near the lake and in a deeply serious discussion about our future together when we heard branches rustling and voices in the bushes just behind the car. 

We twisted around to look through the car's back window to discover where the noise came from. As we swept our eyes over the green area, two little boys raced out of the woods and down the road. We laughed so hard at them eavesdropping on us that the intense discussion faded from our thoughts. We knew we loved each other and wanted to spend our lives laughing and crying together.

Looking back over the past fifty-two years, I know we made the right decision!

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Wishing June Brides a very Happy Anniversary this month!

Ted and J.Q.

Click here to connect online with J.Q.