My Poetry Moment by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

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My Poetry Moment

      Over my writing career I have had articles, short stories, travel books, and mystery, young adult, and science fiction novels published. And one poem. When that one poem was accepted for publication, I felt I had taken my writing to another level. I decided, though, that my contribution was going to be different, that I was going to take the poetry community by storm. I wanted to make my mark, to stand out in the poetry world. And to do that I came up with a new poetry sub-genre that I called Script Poetry. Just like a movie script I set up the scene and the tone for the poem and give some background of the story in the poem by using a script layout. It made the whole poem more visual and that way I could get right to the meat of what I wanted to say. 

     I enthusiastically sent out my script poems and waited for the accolades to come in.

    Surprisingly, the publishers were not as galvanized about this new style of poetry as I was. No one accepted them for publication. 

     But never underestimate the power of a script poet scorned. At the same time as I was planning my burst onto the poetry stage, I was writing my mystery novel "The Only Shadow In The House," the second book of The Travelling Detective Series. I gave one of my characters the career of a poet and her specialty was Script Poetry. Needless to say the publishers and critics in my fictional world were highly impressed with the poems. The poetry was very popular with the reading public and the poetress won many awards. 

     To quote from my book: One critic wrote that her poems have an innovative, revolutionary style that is shaking the foundations of the conventionally staid poetry community, while another critic called them insightful and powerful. 

     I have taken one of the script poems from that novel for you to judge for yourself.

 

Fade In
Act One
Exterior-Farm House-Night.
There is snow on the ground. Stars twinkle in the clear, night sky. A vehicle pulls into the yard and a woman climbs out. She stares at the house then takes a deep breath. She releases it in a vapour. With slow tread she climbs up the steps and enters the darkened house. Inside, she stops and listens.

 

There is no noise in my house, it is dark and silent.
Today, I buried you. Is this what it is like in your grave,
total quiet, total darkness?
I flip on the light and wander the house
looking at the possessions that
represented a life that never existed,
except in my own mind.
This has been our home for nineteen years
but it now feels alien to me.
Because from now on I know that mine
will be the only shadow in the house.
I must leave here soon.

 

End Act One
Fade Out

 

Fade In
Act Two
Interior-Farm House- Night.
All the lights are on in the house. The woman is in the kitchen. She pushes over the shelving holding plant seedlings and pots. She heads to the dining room and goes to a china cabinet with no doors. All the shelves hold figurines and dishes and knick knacks. They crash to the floor with a sweep of her hand. The ones that don’t break, disintegrate under her foot.

 

“Damn you, Ben. Damned you to hell!” I yell.
I want you to hear. I want you to know
the sorrow and the pain you have brought me.
I go from room to room, expunging.
I spray your shaving cream on the walls.
I dump your aftershave in the tub.
I grab a knife and shred your clothes.
Finally, there is nothing of yours left.
I feel some satisfaction.
You destroyed my life and now I have
destroyed everything that represented yours.
“There you bastard,” I say. “Rot in hell.”

 

Fade Out
End Act Two

 

Fade In
Act Three
Interior-Farm House- Night
The woman is standing in front of a picture on the living room wall. The furniture and floor are littered with debris. She takes the picture off the hook and stares at it a long time.

 

I find our wedding photograph on the wall.
I’d had it enlarged for our tenth anniversary
as my loving gift to you.
Were you as pleased as you said you were
or was that just a sham?
I smash the glass against the corner of the table.
I cut my finger removing the shards.
I look at you smiling back at me.
Were you an impostor in our marriage?
For now I wonder how many other
women did you see over our nineteen years.
I slash the picture with the knife. How symbolic.

 

End Act Three
Fade Out

Addressing Book Clubs by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Recently, a friend told me that her book club was reading Erin's Children and asked if I would address the group. I told her I would be delighted. So a few weeks ago, I spent a lovely evening with seven women engaged in discussion about the book's themes and characters and the writing and publishing processes. The wine and snacks were an added bonus especially the pumpkin roll and homemade apple crisp. Since I set Erin's Children in Worcester, Massachusetts, a city with which this group was very familiar, all living in or near it, the setting too became a topic of conversation. One of Worcester's historic sections, known as Crown Hill, is featured in the novel as the location where the main characters live and work. One of the book club ladies mentioned that she drove through the Crown Hill area to get a feel for it before coming to the meeting that evening. Another woman brought with her a picture of her grandmother and two aunts who had come to the United States from Ireland much in the way that Meg and Kathleen do in Erin's Children. The way these readers shared their connection with the book was truly touching.

I have given several talks at public venues, all of which I have enjoyed, but I must say that book clubs have a certain charm all their own. For one thing, it is much easier on the author not to have to prepare a long presentation only engaging with the audience during Q&A at the end. Also, book club meetings are often held in someone's home, making the setting much cozier. Settling into a living room chair, making conversation with a group of interested readers is very much like attending an intimate gathering at the home of a friend. It's so much more relaxed than standing at a podium or sitting behind a table while giving a talk to a group seated auditorium style and wondering if their expressions relate to your words or the hard chairs.

Until recently, I thought that my options for addressing book clubs would be few since they would usually have to be local. But the recent COVID-created dependence on Zoom has made me realize that I can address book clubs anywhere. It may not be quite the same as being there in person, but it's not that far off and is a godsend for reaching people at a distance. To that end, I have included a page on my website for book clubs with a link to contact me. I have also created a set of questions for book clubs in pdf form for Kelegeen and Erin's Children. I'm looking forward to more book club gatherings far and wide.

The Agenda of Writing Novels by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

 

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The Agenda of Writing Novels

Some people believe that there is an agenda or blueprint for writing books and as long as the writer follows that blueprint, they can write a book. However, that is not really true. Authors have different ways of writing their novels. Some outline each chapter. Others wing it just going where their characters take them. Some start with a plot and add characters and some have characters around whom they build a story. A few take an event or an idea and build on it putting in characters and settings as the story develops.

     I have never worked with a solid outline, or arc as it is sometimes called, for my novels, whether they are mystery, historical, or young adult. And this is mainly because I find that my characters seldom end up the way I first pictured them and the plot never takes the route I thought it would. I do start the story with a character in his/her everyday life so the reader can get to know them then I put in the trigger or problem that is out of the control of my main character or that starts the mystery. This puts the main character on his/her quest for a solution.

     I do have scenes pictured where characters are going to have a certain conversation or be at a certain place but unexpected conversations or character twists surface as I am writing the story. Some of these are surprises or mishaps or glitches that get in the way of my character’s quest. I strive not to make these predictable, nor so far out that they don’t make sense to the story. They should leave the reader with the thought that (s)he should have figured that would happen. Personally, I find that it is no fun to read a book in which you can foresee where the story line is headed and what is going to happen.

     If I get writer’s block or get to the end of an event and not really know what to write next, then I pick up one of the encounters that I know a character is going to have and I write that. Sometimes I will have two or three of them waiting to be put into the manuscript where they are needed.

     For the climax my character goes through the action of resolving the problem or solving the mystery. This has to be fast paced and sometimes at risk to my character. By this time the reader should be rooting for the main character and wanting him/her to succeed without injury. Hopefully, too, this is where the surprise comes in, where the reader goes. “Wow, I didn’t see that coming." or "I never thought it would be that person.”

     I have even been surprised or saddened or happy by the ending of my books. When I was nearing the end of writing one of my mystery novels I still hadn’t figured out which of two characters had done the killing. Suddenly, a different character put up their hand and said, “I did it and this is why.” I was surprised but realized that it made total sense.

     I believe that if my emotions are rocked by the ending so, too, should those of the readers. When the book was published I had readers tell me that they had also fluctuated between the same two characters as I had and they, too, had been surprised by who was actually guilty. Something a mystery writer is always happy to hear.

 

John Porter Bowman and The Haunted Mansion Book Shop by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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One of my favorite spooky sites in Vermont is the Bowman Mausoleum in Cuttingsville across the street from what used to be The Haunted Mansion Book Shop. 

When my grandparents were alive, my family traveled several times a year from our home in Massachusetts to their home in Vergennes, Vermont. On the way, we always stopped in Cuttingsville to check out the book shop and get a glimpse of the mysterious figure in the cemetery. 

The figure is John Porter Bowman, or rather a statue of him. Bowman was a Vermonter who, in 1852, moved to Stony Creek, New York with his wife, Jennie where he became the wealthy owner of a tannery.  The couple welcomed their first child, Addie, in 1854. Sadly, the baby died at only four months. Another daugher, Ella, was born in 1856. Ella died at age nineteen, followed within a year by Bowman's wife. 

Having lost his entire family, the deeply grieving John Bowman moved back to Vermont where he purchased land in Cuttingsville, the town where he first learned the tanning trade. At Laurel Glen Cemetery he had a mausoleum built by over 100 skilled stonecutters. The bodies of his wife and two daughters were brought to Vermont and interred in the mausoleum in 1881. After that he had a mansion which he named Laurel Hall, built across the street so that he would be near his family and could visit them often. At the same time, he commissioned a statue of himself, dressed in a mourning cloak and carrying a mourning wreath. The statue was placed just outside the mausoleum's door. Grief is etched into the statues face as Mr. Bowman eternally mourns his family.

             

    The Bowman Mausoleum                                        John Porter Bowman in mourning

Bowman also had a greenhouse built on the cemetery property in order to always have fresh flowers available to adorn the final resting place of his loved ones. Once completed the mausoleum became a tourist attraction. Vistors came by the thousands. Bowman had a guest book placed inside and hired a guide to provide tours.

In 1891 John Porter Bowman died and joined his family for eternal rest inside the mausoleum. He left money specifically for the upkeep of Laurel Hall. Perhaps he believed in reincarnation because the instructions he left behind were for a caretaker to not only keep Laurel Hall in good condition, but to have the table set for the family's dinner every night in case he and his loved ones decided to return for a hot meal. The funds ran out in 1953 and most of the furnishings were sold.

By the time I was a teen, a couple had purchased the property and turned it into a book store. Perhaps it was due to the mausoleum being prominent at the top of the hill directly across from the mansion or maybe it was all the stories about both the mausoleum and the house being haunted or maybe it was the odd request for the table to be set every night, but whatever the reason the new owners decided to christen it The Haunted Mansion Book Shop. It certainly drew attention.

Laurel Hall - The Bowman Mansion and for a while 

The Haunted Mansion Book Shop

Many a strange tale was told about the place which naturally made my teen self eager to check it out. Over the years that we traveled back and forth to my grandparents' house in Vergennes we made it a habit to stop at the book shop. It may have been nothing more than the power of suggestion, but I did get a creepy feeling (that I relished!) every time I entered it. 

Sadly, the book shop is now closed though the historial society still maintains the property.