Will a German Soldier Defy his Own Country? And Commit Sabotage? by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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Winner of Best Historical for 2023

How do I make a German officer during WWII sympathetic?

I make him a real person caught in a terrible war. He loathes Hitler's increasing madness. But how does he commit sabotage and escape the regime? Falling in love with an Englishwoman complicates his plans.

August von Gottlieb was nearly killed during Hitler's purge of enemies, when he tried to warn friends of the coming danger. While he healed, still in the army, his wife was diagnosed with cancer. He had children to feed and doctor's bills to pay. He rose in the ranks, and saw more and more of what a horrible madman Hitler was.

Now a widower and stationed in France, he's in charge of the southern region of Brittany. August tries to keep order, waiting for the secret war machine on its way to his port. A machine he hopes to destroy. The war can't go on like this with the slaughter of innocents.

An Englishwoman, with her own tragic past, is also trapped in this chaos, unable to return home after the German invasion. Norah must confront August to free her young cousin from arrest. He now watches her sketching birds in the woods. Is she a spy?

He requests she sketch his picture to find out more about her. The money he offers is too good for her to pass up. They come to know one another and an attraction neither of them wants develops.

A forbidden affair will turn Norah into a pariah, but her love for August, and knowing he's a decent man, keeps her steadfast.

The war machine is coming. August must finalize his plans, and find a way to slip off to Switzerland with Norah as his superiors breathe down his neck.

"A formidable and unforgettable tale of bravery, betrayal, and profound love. Where secrets and impossible choices can mean the difference between life and death. Truly a heart-wrenching and heart-pounding love story set amidst the chaos of war." History and Women

 Diane lives with one naughty dachshund in Western Pennsylvania

Spring Ahead with Trivia - Barbara Baker

 

Goodbye winter. Hello spring. Another round of setting clocks ahead is behind us as well as all the rant on social media about why we continue with this practice. Some people blame farmers for screwing with our circadian rhythm, but they're not the culprits. Cows and crops rely on the sun. Not clocks. Maybe that’s why Saskatchewan ignores time change.

In 1895, George Hudson, an entomologist, made the first attempt to introduce time change. He wanted the world to go ahead two hours in the spring so he could hunt bugs in daylight after his day-job ended. He was unsuccessful with his request.

Time change kicked in during WW1 and WW2 to optimize daylight hours and conserve energy. After each war, it was up to jurisdictions to decide whether they stuck with it. In the winter of 1974, permanent daylight-saving time came into play and children started walking to school in the dark. Hello logic.

But now I’m over time change and have moved onto hello spring. The hunt for the first crocus, first dandelion sighting and of course watching birds as they construct or renovate their nests.   

I checked some of my favourite nesting sites. Unfortunately, the great horned owl's home was gone. When I found the pile of sticks scattered at the base of the tree, my heart sank. Great horned owl parents raised their fuzzy owlets here for over a decade.

I went down the Google rabbit hole to determine whether owls rebuild in the same place. What I read, shocked me. Owls typically do not build their own nest. What? How did I not know this? They apparently take over a suitable nest from another bird and spruce it up to their liking. I’m a huge owl fan. Should I think less of them for being opportunists? Or more of them for conserving their energy?

Later that day I discovered owls aren't the only opportunists. A ballsy Canadian Goose honked at me from it's perch high in the tree. Last spring a bald eagle lived there with an unobstructed view of the Bow River. Maybe I have never given geese enough credit. Maybe they are smart.  

But the first flight for her goslings will be a true test of wing power.

Geese can be cheeky buggers.

And the bald eagle moved on, seemingly unperturbed about the nest thief.

Cowbirds don’t steal nests. They merely deposit their eggs in an already furnished home. If the eggs in the nest she selects are white with beige specks, the cowbird will lay her eggs with the exact same colour pattern.

After the cowbird lays her eggs (sometimes as many as six) in the unsuspecting nest of, let’s say, Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird, she might peck tiny holes in the host’s eggs. This way her chicks won’t have to compete for food or attention. When Mrs. Cowbird leaves, she doesn’t go far. She sticks around for a while to keep an eye on her eggs.

Mrs. Cowbird may be a negligent mom, but she wants to make sure Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird has adequate mothering skills. If she dares to push out any of Mrs. Cowbird’s eggs, well, female cowbirds have a way of getting even. She will return to the nest when it’s unattended and toss out the original eggs.

When Mrs. Red-Winged Blackbird proves she’s a worthy foster mother, Mrs. Cowbird flies away to enjoy her freedom. In just a few weeks, she’ll flit her wings at another dashing male cowbird and the process repeats itself. As for her young, they grow up knowing they're cowbirds without their mother ever being around.

Nature is fun and funny. 

And Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humour. She can still turn on the snow-switch randomly for a few more months.

 

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

So You've Finished Your Novel... Now What? by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

Yes! You see correctly! I have finally included another cover amongst my books! Twice Hung is finally finished (at least the draft) and I can rest easy knowing that it has now flown off to visit the editors, who will--hopefully--rip it apart until I cry and feel sorry for myself. A good editor does that, ya know. Any editor that tells you the first draft is perfect is... well, fibbin'. Get you a Doctor Frankenstein if you can, because an editor that can take a few bare bones and help you to stick some meat on them, is worth every penny. Really though. But what do you do after you write a novel? In my case... start a new one! But if you aren't ready for that, just sit back and bask in your ability to follow through on an idea.

... I was going to end the blog there for comedic effect, but I DID follow through! I finished a book!

I think I'll watch an entire crime docuseries... With icecream... What do you do to celebrate when you finish a book? After George R. R. Martin finishes a book he...

Just kidding! George R. R. Martin never finishes books...

Back to the Research by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Ask almost any author of historical fiction and we'll tell you we love doing the research for our books almost as much as we love writing them. My favorite was the research I did for Erin's Children, the sequel to my debut novel, Kelegeen. The reason it was extra enjoyable was because I set Erin's Children in Worcester, Massachusetts, the city in which I have worked for almost 20 years. 

I grew up in Holden and I still live there. The town line runs down my street so all I have to do is walk across the street and I'm in Worcester. Despite living so close to Worcester and working in that city for so long, I didn't know much about its history until I started researching it for my novel. Once I got into it, I found the history of Worcester in the 1850s to be a fascinating study.

I don't know if it was because of the setting or because I was already familiar with several of the main characters, they having come from my first book, Kelegeen, but I had more fun writing Erin's Children than any other book I've written. That's saying a lot since I greatly enjoy the writing process.

Now that I've decided to write a third (and, possibly, a fourth) book in this series, I am excited to dive back into the research. This time it will be Worcester in the 1860s which will take the reader into the time of the American Civil War. Most of the characters will remain on the northern home front, but I will be sending a few of them to the battlefields. To write this story accurately, I need to research Worcester at that time, the volunteers sent by the City to serve in the Union Army and what life was like for them, as well as the war itself, not to mention everyday life in 1860s Worcester. 

The books have been amassed, the map of 19th century Worcester unrolled and spread out on the table, the notebooks ready to be filled, and trips to the Worcester Historical Museum await. As is true for every author of historical fiction, I know my research will encompass much more than I will actually use in the story. I'm also sure I'll travel down a great many rabbit holes in the process. All of that is okay. More than okay - it's welcomed. It is the joy of research! 

I am determined that the books I write are as historically accurate as possible. I found from the response to Erin's Children that readers love finding out the history of Worcester and "seeing" it played out on the page, especially readers who know the City. So, I know it will be a pleasure to offer them more as well as to learn about it myself.

The timing on this turns out to be perfect since I recently met a local author, Mary Anne Kalonas Slack, who has just released her debut novel, The Sacrificial Daughter, also set in Worcester and featuring an Irish family. We are now planning some author talks together this spring focusing on our Irish in Worcester books. Talking to readers about Erin's Children should really galvanize my momentum towards digging into the research so I can start putting words on the pages of the next book. I truly love those characters and can't wait to revisit my old friends!

The table in my home library where I read and take notes.

The book open on the table contains the annual reports of the City of Worcester from 1861 through 1865.

Among these books are several on the American Civil War and its aftermath.

My steadily growing collection of books on Worcester's history.

My 1870s map of Worcester. 

It's been rolled up for so long I needed to put something on every corner to hold it down.

Thank Goodness for Spring, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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Today, thinking about the warmth of spring, and how much I miss it, I thought I'd look into the history of the season. I hope you enjoy the brief - I promise - explanation of the rite of Spring.

Being a California gal, I never went through harsh winters. 50 degrees was chilly for us. If we wanted to frolic in the snow, we drove up into the mountains.

Now that I'm married and have traveled all over with my navy husband, we live on the east coast, where temps can dip far below zero. Each winter I wait for spring.

Spring was the beginning of a new year, the celebration of fertility and the abundance of nature. In the fourteenth century, the period known as Lent, where people deprived themselves of certain things, when it ended it started to be known as "springing time". This was because plants and other greenery started springing back up from the ground.

And people before electric lights could actually spend longer hours outside and plant their fields, so they had food before another winter came. The circle of life.

In California it meant no more sweaters, fog and rain. We had it so easy.

Now, for me, spring is the longer days, the warmth of the sun, and if I was a billionaire I'd return to California. But I would miss my granddaughters, so I'll stay here.

More on the history of spring. The pagans, not understanding the rotation of the earth in relation to the sun, had a god or goddess for everything to explain the changes in seasons. 

Ostara was the pagan goddess of fertility and spring.

Sometimes her name was known as Eastre or Eostre. From this came the word Easter. The goddess of fertility had the animal symbol of the bunny. That's probably why rabbits are associated with Easter. Plus rabbits are known for their procreation abilities.

The poor chicken got left behind.

As for eggs, they represented new life and rebirth. In the medieval period, during Lent eating eggs was forbidden. So by Easter Sunday, eating an egg was a treat. 

Decorating the eggs started from a Persian custom adopted by the early Christians of Mesopotamia. They stained the eggs with red coloring to represent the blood Christ shed at his crucifixion.

For me spring is being able to go out on my front porch and not shiver. Also, sitting in the sun and reading a good book is my treat.

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

Gone to the Dogs - Barbara Baker

 

 

I grew up in a tiny place east of Banff. It was not large enough to be given hamlet status – hence they called us ‘a community.’ But it was the best place for a kid to grow up. There were no fences, no streetlights and once in a while we saw a car. Playing in the woods started at the end of our driveway.

And our family always had a dog. In fact, most families in our community had one.

When I played outside, I knew which dogs to avoid, which ones not to run from, and those who were sure to follow me home. Dog poop bags were not a thing back then. Having said that, I do not recall stepping in dog poop. Ever. But I am positive dogs still pooped.

Fast forward to 2024 – with spring coming and the freeze-thaw going on, I find loaded dog poop bags hanging off fences, branches or scattered on the side of walkways and trails.

It's wonderful that our urban and rural areas have gorgeous parks with off-leash and on-leash areas for dogs and green spaces scattered throughout neighbourhoods. There is signage, poop bag dispensers and garbage cans at most pathway entrances. Do the signs, which ask you to ‘pick up after your dog,’ really need another line added ‘and put it in the appropriate disposal bin?’ because if that is all it will take, I can get on it.

It’s annoying to find these deposits on city walkways and open spaces but when I find them hanging off spruce boughs or perched on a rock beside a hiking trail in our provincial and national parks, my piss-me-off meter escalates. Do the owners really think there are dog-poop-picker-upper fairies?

Yes, I realize the offenders had good intentions of picking it up on their return trip but it seems many dog walkers got distracted and forgot. Maybe they received a phone call telling them they won the lottery … or maybe their brother’s wife’s cousin had a baby. It’s possible, I guess. I remain hopeful these dog owners, who leave the poop behind, quit making responsible dog owners look bad.

Google says under perfect conditions, the compostable bags will deteriorate in up to 60 days. The ordinary plastic bags decompose in 20+ years. Thank you, Google.

Never in my life did I think I’d write about dog poop. Yet here I am, doing just that. And the issue is not the dog’s fault. The owners are the ones who need to attend obedience class.

When did my collection of sunrise pictures change to photos of poop bags?

I told my six-year-old grandson about this blog and asked him what he thought a 'dog-poop-picker-upper fairy' might look like. This is what he drew. Yup, all those extensions are fairy arms, doing their job.

Sometimes I miss the carefree old days when dog poop was not an issue. For now, I will step off my soap box, and go outside to find another sunrise … and I will never speak of this again. 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

A War of Words by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

You ever hear of a word war? If your familliar with Nanowrimo or national novel writing month, then you probably have. Word wars are like the Olympics of writing, minus the spandex. They're a turbo boost for productivity, turning procrastination into a distant memory faster than you can say "writer's block." It's like a battle royale, but instead of wielding swords, we're armed with laptops and caffeine-fueled determination.

Not a word war... though accurate.

Imagine a room full of writers, all clacking away furiously on their keyboards, eyes wide with the thrill of the chase for word count supremacy. It's a frenzy of creativity, where the only rule is to write like the wind and pray your spellcheck doesn't fail you.

A real life depiction of a room of writers...

And let's not forget the camaraderie! Word wars are the ultimate bonding experience, where fellow writers become comrades-in-arms, cheering each other on through the highs and lows of the literary battlefield. Plus, there's nothing like the sweet taste of victory when you emerge with the highest count!

So far, word wars have gotten me through a few writer's blocks. Nothing beats a bit of competition, though I usually always lose... Lately I have been trying to turn by brain down a notch. Stop overthinking everything I write down and just get it on paper so I have something to work with during the editing phase. But I got to wondering if its only me who struggles. Obviously not.... but what do you do to get through blocks and obstacles? Wait till it passes, and hope the time is short, or power through it?

Surely some one else can relate, right? 

Creating a Home Library - A Labor of Love, Part 2 by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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In my February 7th post I wrote about how I was turning an unused room in my house into a long-desired home library. Good news - it's finished!

It was indeed a labor of love in more ways than one. I mentioned last month, how much I love being surrounded by my books. The other "love" part of this labor is that the room in question used to be my mom's bedroom. We lived together since shortly before my dad passed away in 1996. About three and a half years ago my mom had to move to a nursing home because of rapidly increasing dementia. She died on December 16, 2024. During the time she was in the nursing home I didn't do much with her room. Mostly, I just kept the door shut because I couldn't bear to look at her empty bedroom. 

Before Mom went to the nursing home, when she was still enough in her right mind, she and I talked about what would become of her room after she passed away. She was open like that. Talking about her own passing didn't bother her. Mostly, she wanted to know that the people she left behind would be alright. During one of those conversations, I broached the idea of turning her bedroom into a home library. At first she didn't say anything and I was worried that she didn't like the idea which was a surprise to me since she loved books and reading almost as much as I do. When I asked if she objected, she said, "No. I think it's a wonderful idea. I was just thinking that I wish I would be here to see it."

So, Mom, this library is in your honor! I truly believe that as I was creating it she was watching over my shoulder and nodding approvingly. If her gentle spirit is a presence in my new library, it will be a blessed place.

                 
    Table for doing research for novels                            Reading nook

   

Mom's shelf with her diploma in elementary education from the University of Vermont, 

her graduation program, and her name plate