Say what you mean and mean what you say by J.C. Kavanagh

Best Young Adult Book 2016 P&E Readers' Poll

Last month, I wrote a wee bit about my Irish-born father and his dislike for Canadian winters. He passed away over 20 years ago and I still miss him. In fact, much of my writing is done on his old, oak, leather-topped desk. Cheers, Da!

This month, I'll share a couple of stories about my lovely mother - who will be 86 this year. She grew up in Dublin, Ireland and moved to Canada to start a family, almost 60 years ago. Like my dad, Mom discovered that settling in Canada was a big adjustment – the heat in summer, cold and snow in winter, and intense thunder and lightning storms in the spring and fall.

My cheeky mother, 1958

But the biggest adjustment for me Mather was not the weather – it was her choice of words. And their meaning. Or rather, their wrong meaning. She meant well. She just didn’t say it right.

“Will you kindly knock me up at 7 tomorrow morning?” she asked the landlord of her rooming house shortly after she arrived in Canada.

Fred, her landlord, stood there in shock, the redness of his blush matching the ginger of his hair.

“What? Don’t you knock up all your tenants?” me Mather asked. “Surely you don’t want me to be late and have my wage docked and not be able to pay my rent?”

Fred’s blush had become a dangerous maroon. “I… I could find you an old wind-up clock,” he stammered.

“Why bother?” me Mather persisted. “Just knock me up at 7!”

Fred’s face was now apoplectic. “But…. my wife…..”

“Nonsense, she won’t hear a thing,” replied me Mather. “Just knock on my door two or three times. I’ll wake up.”

Fred gasped and almost fell to the floor in relief. “Knock… on your door.”

“Well, of course,” says me Mather. “What else would I mean?”

And then there’s the time when me Mather was at work, new to her job as legal secretary for a firm in downtown Toronto. Her boss was a finicky old curmudgeon with little patience for his lovely Irish employee.

As she was collating and copying some papers, me Mather noticed a mistake.

“I’m waiting for those papers to sign!” bellowed her boss impatiently.

Mather was desperate. She had to erase and correct the error immediately, before he noticed. She hurried to her colleague’s office. “Quick – I need a rubber. Now!”

The woman looked up at me Mather in shock. “You need a rubber?”

“Yes! Quick now – I’m in a hurry and the boss doesn’t want to wait!”

Well, Mather learned very quickly that the terms used at home in Ireland had a completely different meaning in Canada. I still chuckle when she talks about something that’s banjaxed (broken), togs (bathing suit), boxing my ears (a humourous threat to slap you upside the head) and chin-wagging (a lengthy conversation). I know what she means to say even if she doesn’t say what she means. You know what I mean.

She's still beautiful! Mother, grandmother and great-grandmother

Summer is about to begin - enjoy! I'll be spending most weekends and about four weeks sailing around Georgian Bay on our sailboat, Escape Route II. Ah....

Enjoy life!

J.C. Kavanagh

The Twisted Climb

BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers' Poll

A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart

Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com

www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh

www.Amazon.com/author/jckavanagh

Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)

The Writing Game, by J.C. Kavanagh

Best Young Adult Book, P&E Readers' Award, The Twisted Climb

There are times when I sit in front of the computer impatiently waiting for the words to appear, my fingers hanging precariously over the keyboard. It's when the story and the characters get hung-up on, well - something - I guess it's - indecisiveness. Yes, it is. It's when the 'swings' in the playground of my mind move back and forth, back and forth, without rhythm and without harmony. Slowing..... stalling.

That's when I have to regroup and play 'The Writing Game.' Ever heard of it? Ever try it? My South Simcoe Writers' group plays it on a regular basis and this is how you play: Pick three things - a place, an action and a job title.

Then - write.

It's like lacing your fingers together and then cracking your knuckles before playing the piano. Except that you're bending the filaments of your imagination. Craaack.

Here's an example: hurricane; taxi; Private Detective.

My resulting story:

Caught
by J.C. Kavanagh
The air crackled around her, charged with the residue of the lingering storm. Streaks and ragged arrows of lightning flared in the sky, illuminating the 'Off Duty' sign on the roof of the taxi and giving the interior of the vehicle a ghostly glow.
This is going to be a long night, she thought, adjusting her position behind the wheel. Reaching upward, she angled the rear-view mirror and examined her face closely. The checkered cap was jauntily in place and the starched shirt collar completed the deception. Her pale face, devoid of makeup, was unremarkable. Even her mousey brown hair was bland.
I'm perfect.
She exhaled slowly, shifting the monster-lensed camera in her lap. Large droplets of rain fell on the windshield, heralding the onset of the Category 4 hurricane.
Her target should be arriving soon.
The trees surrounding the hotel began to bend in unison, as if bowing to the greater powers of the storm. The swinging neon sign hanging beside the front doors squealed in revolt and the "Welcome NASA" display blinked in a repetitive three-second pattern.
Nonetheless, the taxi driver kept her attention focused on the gaudy orange bus parked 50 metres ahead as it idled quietly in the rage of the storm, waiting for conference attendees to board. It seemed silently insolent, its painted orange glare a shiny bruise in front of the murderous blue storm clouds.
She raised the camera and focused the enormous telephoto lens on the door of the bus, preparing to shoot.
KNOCK KNOCK.
She jolted in surprise and quickly lowered the camera. The rear passenger door opened and a man slid in, holding a wet, folded newspaper above his head.
"This cab is out of service," she said curtly, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
"Not anymore," he replied.
She looked behind and gasped. It was him, her target.
He pulled a gun out from the fold of the newspaper and pointed it at her head.
"Drive."

***
Craaack!

A Kavanagh-clan castle, circa 1100 AD.

In last month's blog, I wrote a wee bit about my Irish ancestry - the Kings of Leinster. I'm still going through reams of information on this fascinating family that I call my own (without the crown of course. Or the castles.) More to come in future blogs.

Have a wonderful and peaceful Easter weekend!

J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers' Poll
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.Amazon.ca/author/jckavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)

The art of being sorry

The Twisted Climb - a novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.

As a Canadian, I reserve the right unapologetically for being sorry. I'm sorry - for whatever it is that has disturbed the air between us, around us, behind us. You see, being sorry is the Canadian custom.
It's like this:
Sorry if I'm in your way when you walk past me on the street. Also sorry that you're in my way when I walk past you.
Sorry for not keeping the mall entrance door open for an extra second or two as you walk out.
Sorry for my shopping buggy blocking your outstretched arm for that specific jar of jam.
Very sorry. Truly.
And meaning every apologetic syllable. Sor-ry. Tru-ly.
We are so darn polite! It's become the Canadian way.
But being courteous and civil is something I've grown up with - maybe my Irish heritage (sorry, but it's true. There's that sorry again.)
And being sorry - or is it really being humble or kind or polite? - is something that I tried to engrain in my three children, too.
I believe I've succeeded when my son opens the door for me. When he says sorry for not calling more frequently. I believe I've succeeded when my other son helps me put on my coat. And says sorry for not calling more frequently. And I believe I've succeeded when my daughter says sorry for calling me so frequently. Aren't these great things to be sorry for?
It's a very nice thing to offer loved ones and strangers alike kindness instead of rudeness. Perhaps it's the Canadian in me? It really is like this. Sorry if you don't agree. So sorry. Truly!

WINNER - The Best Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers' Poll

I am absolutely thrilled (and not sorry about it), that my book took first place in the P&E Readers' Poll. The Twisted Climb was published in June 2016 (ebook) and July for the paperback, so it's so very exciting to win this award.
I am grateful for the support from colleagues and readers alike. Thank you!


J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)

Cleaning house

The Twisted Climb by J.C. Kavanagh

Is your house getting cleaner as you get older?
If no, scroll to the next sub-heading.
If yes, keep reading.
I've noticed that every year, maybe even every month, my house stays cleaner for longer periods of time. Truly. The older I get, the cleaner my house.
Until recently.
I used to tell myself, "There's no dust here because I live in the country."
I used to tell myself, "The bathroom sinks stay shiny for ages."
I used to tell my friends that my house stays clean all by itself. "There's an anti-dirt / anti-dust fairy in my home." Weren't they great friends for just nodding their heads. No eye-rolling or cuckoo motions.
Until, as I said before, recently.
I was having dinner with my partner, Ian, and extolling the unending virtues of our house-cleaning fairy.
He quietly asked, "Are you talking about the fairy that's collecting dust bunnies in your bathroom?"
Whaaaat?
He was very calm about his question. Or was it a proclamation? I hurried to my bathroom, pulling Ian behind me. The dark green marble tile looked like it always does. I turned around inquiringly and Ian pointed to a corner, beside the Jacuzzi tub. I squinted and peered. "Nice marble, though the colour is a bit dated."
He sighed and handed me my reading glasses. "Now have a look."
"Alright," I said and perched them on my nose. I cast my eyes toward the offending corner.
Good Lord in heaven above. There were dust bunnies the size of cats and they had given birth to baby bunnies all over the floor!
What happened?
I looked at my sink. Were those eyebrow hairs behind the faucet, collecting on the white porcelain? Good Lord in heaven above. Yes.
Wasn't the sink shiny and clean? Well, kind of. More like shine-spot-here and shine-spot-there.
Now I was angry. That no-good house-cleaning fairy done gone and run off with a no-good lazy-butt dirt fairy.
Or not.
"What happened?" I asked my other half. "And why didn't you tell me?"
Ian just grinned. "I like it when you can't see the dust. I'm not going to tell you it's there.... you'll make me clean, too."
That was cheeky but quite true. Never has there been a more vacuum-loving, bathroom-cleaning and dust-free fanatic, than me.
Until recently.
Oh those eyes, they ain't what they used to be.

Next sub-heading

If you skipped to here, you missed a funny story and really, you should go back to the beginning.

My other half, Ian.

He's a good bloke - won't see dust - will feed birds.

Book signings in Ontario!

Come see me at the Chapters store in Square One, Mississauga on Saturday, January 28. Or, drop by for a visit at the Chapters store in Newmarket on Saturday, February 11.
I'm also part of two 'Meet the Author' events for the Angus and Caledon libraries in February and during the children's school break in March. I'm looking forward to sharing with the kids just how I 'dream' up most of my stories.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you had a wee chuckle or two at the expense of me ol' eyeballs. Cheers!

Joanie
aka J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.Facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Amazon.ca/author/jckavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1

Time and the unfolding unkindness of body parts

The Twisted Climb

There was a time, not very long ago, when my body parts scoffed at age. Pah! Who's getting old? Not me!

And then I began to hear a sound. Muffled but steady. At first, I couldn't tell what it was. But over time my hearing became wiser (I like to say), and, in direct contrast to my eyes focusing only if the object was at the end of my extended arm, I got it. The sound, that is. The source of that clicking sound.

Now I'm not talking about regular clicking, like a clock clicks, or water drips, or the sound a bird-brained cardinal makes when he's attacking himself on the window pane. I'm talking about clicks. Body clicks. Ahh, now do you get it?

I've been fighting it for a long time - the source of the clicks. Sometimes it's from a knee joint, sometimes a toe knuckle, even the back of the neck. That neck sound is a deep, cavernous click. Makes me shiver in response. But that doesn't bother me so much. It's the clicks and clacks and tearing sounds from my shoulder that jolts me. These aren't the sounds of a young person. Nay nay. These are, um, it's hard to put into words and thus give them credence, but these sounds are from an old person.

What happened?

Wasn't it just last month when I sang my babies to sleep and wasn't it only a few weeks ago when I played ball hockey in the Provincials, and really, wasn't it just last week when I held my first grand child?

Time, thou travels much too quickly. And I respectfully request that you slow down. Because if you don't, my legs won't - can't keep pace and I'm afraid that the cricks and clicks in my body will take over my brain.

My age and time are not always friends. I'm trying to make them be friends but my body is not being nice and keeps getting in the way. My age is just a number, I tell myself. I like to repeat that to my body. Age is just a number. To that, my body looks pensively in the distance, as if willing my body to reflect the age I really, really want to be. 39 seems like a good age. Or 49.

For now, I'm going to ignore the clicks and clacks from my innards. Especially my shoulder. Yes, that I'll ignore until the sound is too loud and the pain too strong. Then, and only then, will I say 'yes' to age and yes again to Advil. Or wine.

In the spirit of Christmas, I would like to wish you all a joyous and loving season and a year of prosperity and adventure in 2017.

My first grandchild, Kealii, October 2009

Kickboxing Orange belt 2016

Shoveling 200 ft of driveway, November 2016. That's crazy.

Grateful to have age and time as my friends.
Joanie
aka J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
www.Facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Twitter: @JCKavanagh1

"Word movies"

https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Climb-J-C-Kavanagh-ebook/dp/B01GZ2L2MQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479253039&sr=8-1&keywords=the+twisted+climb

 The Super Moon

The 'super' moon on November 14, 2016. (Photo by J.C. Kavanagh, Lisle, Ontario)

Life is such an interesting journey, don't you think? There are great days, horrible days, and 'meh' days in between. So many choices and so many directions become available in daily events that it's hard to figure out which choice leads to the best destination and in fact, what determines the 'best' destination. It doesn't matter which continent you live in, 'interesting' times are certainly ahead.

Did you see the 'super' moon the other night? The clouds parted and behold! There it was - displayed in all its eerie magnificence. The sight of it reminded me of the many moon descriptions in my book, The Twisted Climb (a novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart AND the perfect Christmas gift. Really.) https://www.amazon.com/Twisted-Climb-J-C-Kavanagh-ebook/dp/B01GZ2L2MQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479249830&sr=8-1&keywords=the+twisted+climb

                   'Meet the Author' event

I felt honoured to participate in a recent 'Meet the Author' event, hosted by my local library and part of Ontario's Reading Week events. I was one of five local authors who read excerpts from their book, responded to a Question & Answer session, and then spent time meeting attendees and showcasing our books. What a great night! I'm happy to tell you that a librarian from another district was so pleased with my book 'reading,' that she invited me to share my writing experiences with the youth at her library. I'm very much looking forward to that early next year.

Paranormal plus

Many of my readers are curious to know details about the sequel to The Twisted Climb. The plot has been brewing in my mind for some time now and the tentative title is: The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends. Most of the draft outline is complete and now I have to sew it together, seam by seam, chapter by chapter. It's truly inspiring to hear friends and strangers alike suggest story lines and events in the next book. "Jayden and Connor HAVE to meet in real life!" is one recommendation. "Introduce more paranormal activity" is another. I get goosebumps when my fictional characters are discussed as if they are real, living people.

Available in Canada, the U.S., the U.K. and now, Australia!

Books We Love is a great promoter of - guess what - books we love! And now the publishing company is opening readership potential to one of the largest continents in the world - Australia. It's great to be part of this fine Canadian company as it opens doors for readers around the world and promotes our "word movies."

J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
www.Facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.Amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Twitter: @JCKavanagh1

The elevator/escalator life of the author

Book sales. Well, am I right? They're up, they're down. They're over the top; they're below the counter. Checking sales statistics every day in the life of an author is like jumping on a moving roller coaster ride. First level, you check the stats on Amazon.com. No, that was a downer, take a headlong dive. Check the stats of Amazon. ca. Better. Slowly inch upward. Then, check the stats on Amazon.co.UK. Yikes. Where the *#? are my Irish relatives? and what happened to their wallets? Take a sharp, twisted nose dive. Oh, boy. Don't lose the day job. Wait, I don't have a day job. YIKES again. Sigh. Go to AuthorCentral.com. Coaster slows down as it pulls slowly uphill. Oh dear. Still under a million sales which is supposed to be not too bad. Ahem.

Almost awful but then check the Author rank under my genre. Sigh. 40,000 sounds so much better, doesn't it? No really, doesn't it? Roller coaster hesitates, stalls and then..... falls. Real life interrupts your twisted dream climb and you know you have to keep plugging away!!

Good thing I still love my book(s). And I love to write and will continue to do so. Jude Pittman shared some words of wisdom with me, something to the effect of:  'Write for the love of it - knowing that your children and their children and their children will enjoy a piece of you and your heart for all eternity.' That struck home with me in a big way. I write because I love to write and because I believe that the good Lord gave me a gift to use. I will carry on.

My promotional activities have led me to so many book stores and libraries and, in every place I've travelled to, I've met people who all share a strong, common bond: the love of words - the love of stories. I call them "Word Movies." No matter what you call them, we all share the love of weaving words into stories and bringing characters to life so that they become real. Magical. Characters that are our friends. And our enemies. Real. When we can do this with our story, with our characters, then our books are true word movies.

I'm loving the writing and marketing journey that my book, The Twisted Climb, brings me. Jude Pittman, our publisher, is a great guide and I follow her directions. Occasionally I go off centre but she always brings me back. Doesn't even need the whip sometimes. Kidding, Jude!

My first official Book Signing at Chapters, in Barrie, Ontario

Had the best time with the professionals at Chapters in Barrie, Ontario on Saturday (yesterday). Everything was well prepared and the staff were fantastic for my first official commercial book signing. I gussied up my book table and added a few cosmetic touches so the front doors, pillars and book table were eye-catching and professional. It was a fantastic learning experience and once I got the art of maintaining eye contact with every passer-by, they were mine. Now I know that I have one-on-one sales skills. I like that ! All this time, I've been plugging my book The Twisted Climb like a one-lung Irish banshee on her last lump of coal and her final sip of whiskey. Ha! Not any more..... but you know, the cool part of my book signing was that Wayne Gretzky was coming to town the very next day at the very same book store, pushing his latest book at the very same table I just emptied of my great book stock. I left him a wee message and told him that if his book signing was as successful as mine, he should be happy. Aren't I the cheeky one chatting up the Great One? !!

Now, I'm taking a breath and about to prepare for an Author Event in my local town - one of five authors invited to read from their novel, participate in a Q&A session and then provide time for a signing/selling session. Throughout this publishing / marketing experience, I've learned that if you invite 50, expect one percent. Even if they are your best friends. The up-side is that even if they don't/can't come, I still love them! I'll take some pics of the 'Meet the Author' event this week - part of the Ontario Public Library week activities - and post on my blog next month. I'll also add some more details about my favourite scale-covered mammal, the pangolin. Until then, enjoy this blog and the other blogs of the very talented writers from the Books We Love collection of authors.

J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb, a book for young adults and adults young at heart.
www.Facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Twitter: JCKavanagh1