I'm Canadian by J. S. Marlo

  

Undeniable Trait

is available now!

Click here

   

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

As many of you know, I'm a Canadian author. I love my four seasons. I can't imagine living without snow in the winter, but I'll admit I could live without the excessive heat and mosquitoes in the summer.

When it comes to set my stories, I favour fall or winter in Canada. I've lived or spent lots of time in 9 of our 10 provinces (the 10th one and the 3 territories are on my bucket list, but I know people who live/lived there), so the possibilities are endless when it comes to choose a setting that I'm familiar with. I also like to add that Canadian vibe to my book covers when I can.

My latest novel takes place in Ojibson, a fictional small town in northern Ontario. Many people don't realise how large Ontario is until they drive from Ottawa to the Manitoba/Ontario border. That's roughly 2000 km (1250 miles) along the northern shores of the great lakes and through magnificent forests where you drive by some towns and many villages that are far and few between. Some services are limited, many are only available hours away, and snow storms can wreak havoc with driving anywhere.

This is the setting I chose for my latest novel "Undeniable Trait". There's a rural hospital where the old town doctor had buried secrets. For years after his death, temporary doctors (in my neck of the woods, we call them fly-in fly-out doctors) had come to provide services, but they'd only stayed for days or weeks at a time, none of them settling down. Everything changes the day Dr. Zachary arrives in Ojibson. For reason he won't share until later in the novel, Zachary is looking for a place to settle down and start afresh. The residents are thrilled, but when Zachary starts digging out his predecessor's old files, he inadvertently stumbles onto secrets worth killing or dying for.

Personally I think the only way for two people to keep a secret is for one of them to be dead. And the only way to prevent someone from digging up a secret is to destroy it, not bury it. Eventually, it will rise to the surface and someone will talk, but hey, I'm just the writer. The old doctor didn't ask for my opinion.

When I send my suggestions for a book cover, I try to come up with a visual clue that will tell my readers where my story takes place.

In "Undeniable Trait", it's the money in the six-fingered hand. This isn't colourful Monopoly money. These are real Canadian bills. That's the "Canadian" clue.

In "Voted Out", it's the ball in the middle of the compass pointing toward VOTE. It depicts the Canadian flag.

Enjoy Fall & Happy Reading!

J. S. 

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Pillars of Avalon by Katherine Pym

Buy Here

 Now in Audio

Since it’s June, and the traditional wedding month, if we ever get through this pandemic, I thought I’d share an excerpt from Pillars of Avalon, the wedding vows between David & Sara. Humourous to say the least.  This is a story of love, struggle and passion. A good read for YA & Adults.

David and Sara Kirke were married in London 1630. It was not long after they settled in Newfoundland, now Newfoundland/Labrador. Their story is filled with adventure, very well researched. We found as much data on them from the limited resources as possible. 

~*~*~*~

Spangler took a deep breath and said, “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...”  

David’s chest deflated and his gut heaved. The very raising of her chin emasculated him, casting him into the hoary pit of impotence. She did that often and he wondered if women were born this way or if they learned it from their mothers. 

Lord above, but he pitied Sara’s father. Being married to a bloody harpy like Mother Andrews would be his undoing. 

“...an honourable estate instituted by God in paradise, in the time of man’s innocence...” Spangler said in a singsong manner. 

David wanted to scoff. Man’s innocence, my arse. Women’s cunning and their wicked ways unmanned men. In his weakness David would soon lustily bed Eve as Adam had taken the apple and eaten thereof. 

“…of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men, and therefore is not to be enterprised, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts…” 

Of course, he was a brute and a beast. He hungered for Twig, her softness, how her eyes brightened when he walked into a room. Their bundling showed she had the capacity to love him. She was open to do all things imaginable behind the bed curtains. He intended to try the sports expressed in chapbooks. All of them. 

“…but reverently, discretely, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.”

David did not like those words. A woman must have whispered in the ear of whoever wrote that part of the Book of Common Prayer. Why should a man fear God when he created the physical body to enjoy the act of procreation? 

He scoffed in derision and Sara gave him a look. The minister paused in his reading. They turned to him with question, their regard on the verge of horror. Embarrassed, David’s neck heated. His ears buzzed and his knees wobbled. 

All he could do was shrug.  

Spangler cleared his throat. “Duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. One cause was the procreation of children, to be brought up in fear and nurture of the Lord, and praise of God…”

Why should he raise his sons to fear God? When a man struck out on his road, to do what his heart most desired, if it was honourable, then there should be no fear. He sliced a glance at Sara. So far, she hadn’t been overly reverent or spouted homilies. She did not judge with the Good Book in her hand. He nodded. They would do well together. 

“Secondly,” the minister continued, his voice falling into the monotone of words often said.

David frowned. Would this never end?

“It is ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication that such persons as be married, might live chastely in matrimony and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.” 

Those words should be stricken from the ceremony, David reflected sagely. The only reason a man would fornicate outside the marriage bed was a cold and stiff wife, which he would not have. He’d sell Sara in a public auction if she was thusly, and he snorted. 

Spangler tripped over his words and Sara faced him, her lips curled in a frown. David reared back, as if he would soon be pummelled by the two of them. Nervous coughs came from the congregation. He tried to look innocent of any wrongdoing. 

After several tense moments where he burst into a mighty sweat, Spangler flipped through the pages of his book, then said, “I require and charge you, as you will anywhere at the dread full day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” he put his hand to his mouth and coughed, “that if either of you do know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that ye confess it.” He gazed at David. 

Sara turned to him. 

He wanted to shout, “What have I done?” 

Still looking at David, Spangler said, “For be ye well assured that so many as be coupled together; otherwise then God would doeth allow you are not joined of God. Neither is your matrimony lawful.”  

Annoyance turned to anger. The man was a damned rogue who pointed an improper finger at him. 

“David Kirke, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her…”

Surely he would if she weren’t a crone and enjoyed tussling upon the counterpane. 

Spangler cleared his throat and Sara gave him a murderous regard. 

David could not fathom their discontent. “I will.” 

“Sara Andrews, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will thou obey him and serve him…”

She would certainly obey him. If not, David knew he had the full right to beat her into proper submission. He gazed at her. She was so pretty with bright eyes and kissable lips. He could never lay a hand upon her, no matter how much she vexed him. 

“I will,” Sara said. 

~*~*~

The vows were taken from the Book of Common Prayer, 1549 edition

Criminal expressions - part 1 by J. S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

I'm fascinated by expressions & idioms. They are colorful and interesting, and they often stump me as many of them cannot be translated word for word in my first language.

I write romantic suspense, so there's always a crime being committed in my stories...and a dead body or two hidden somewhere. I often use expressions and it got me curious to know where they come from. So, here are some of them:

- To cover one's tracks (1898): to conceal or destroy evidence of a shameful or nefarious act. The expression stems from "hiding one's footprints".

- To get caught red-handed (1432): to get caught in the act. It comes from Scotland, and it's an allusion to having blood, which is red, on one's hand after the execution of a murder or a poaching session.

-  To keep one's nose clean (late 19th century): to stay out of trouble, to avoid doing anything shady. It originates from "to keep one's hands clean", an expression widely used in England in the 18th century which meant to avoid corruption. When it crossed the Atlantic, the "nose" replaced the "hand".

- A red herring (18th century): something designed to distract or throw someone off a trail. A herring is a fish that is often smoked, a process that turns it red and gives it a strong smell. Because of their pungent aroma, smoked herrings were used to teach hunting hounds how to follow a trail, and they would be drawn across the path of a trail as a distraction that the dog must overcome.

- A whistleblower (19th century): a person who exposes someone involved in an illicit activity. The term attached itself to law enforcement officials because they used whistles to alert the public.

- The long arm of the law (1908): the far-reaching power of the authorities. It began in 16th century as "Kings have long arms".

- A wild goose chase (1592): a futile search, a useless and often lengthy task. The original meaning is related to horse racing, as a 'wild goose chase' was a race in which horses followed a lead horse at a set distance, mimicking wild geese flying in formation.

- A skeleton in the closet (early 1800s): a dark or embarrassing secret that is best kept unrevealed. It stems from the dissected corpses that British doctors kept hidden for research purposes.

- The third degree (19th century): intense interrogation. In Masonic lodges there are three degrees of membership, and in the third degree, the member undergoes vigorous questioning.

- A cat burglar (1907): a burglar adept at entering and leaving the burglarized place without attracting notice. First used by a reporter to describe a burglar who operated in London.

- A stool pigeon (19th century): a person acting as a decoy or informer. It stems from the use of a decoy bird (often a pigeon) to lure birds of prey into a net.

Now I need to stop googling and go back to writing a special children's book for my granddaughter.

Happy reading!

JS

 J. S. Marlo's Website

A ghost on a military base? by J. S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

During the Second World War, HMCS Cornwallis (later renamed CFB Cornwallis) was the largest naval training base in the British Commonwealth. Built on the southern shore of the Annapolis Basin in Nova Scotia and commissioned in 1942, the military training base closed in 1994.

In the late 1980s, my husband and I enjoyed a three-year posting at CFB Cornwallis. During that time, we attended many functions inside the Officers' Mess. It was a beautiful building (pic on the left), rich in history, and haunted by the ghost of a young woman. I was fascinated by the sad story of that young woman who allegedly hanged herself in one of the upstairs bedrooms after her lover, a sailor in the British Navy during World War II, abandoned her to go back to his wife.

The legend of her ghost was very much alive. While I didn’t know of anyone who had ever seen her, there were reports of strange activities inside the Mess, but was her ghost really roaming the Officers' Mess and only showing herself to unfaithful married men?

Despite all the research I did, I couldn’t find any evidence that a woman ever killed herself inside the Mess, but the basement of the Base Commander’s Residence did shelter grave markers. The dead no longer rest in the basement, their remains were moved to a different burial site, but two of the markers still stand side by side, each engraved with the names of two young children. The four siblings—Edward (1 month), Amelia (1 yr & 6 months), Gilbert (3 yrs), and W.C. (3 yrs)—died between 1850 and 1858.

The legend of the ghost and the grave markers inspired me to write Misguided Honor, my latest novel which was released last week.

In Misguided Honor, Becca Shea sneaks into Cornwallis and travels back in time to 1941 where she meets the young heart-broken woman in the days leading up to her tragic death.

To bring the story of the ghost to life, I took some liberties with history. Among other things, I gave Cornwallis a fictional past as a private shipyard, moved the buildings around, changed their layouts, and delayed the closure of the base. I wish I had unearthed the origin of the legend, and though I didn't, I'm convinced something dreadful happened a long time ago in the Officers' Mess—or else the legend wouldn't have been born.

Happy reading!

JS

 J. S. Marlo's Website

Settings - Attention to details by J. S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

A new year begins and a new story unravels in my head. The first thing I ask myself when an idea takes flight is Where am I going to set that story? To be honest, I'm partial to Canada. First, because I'm Canadian, and second, because of the its changing landscape, cultural diversity, and extreme weather.

There are oceans, beaches, lakes, forests, prairies, mountains, snowy mountains, tundra...but no volcanoes. I like to create fictive small towns within two, or five, or eight hours from an existing real city. That way I can pretend there is an hospital (or no hospital) in my little town, or I can set a charming café next to a library. I can imagine whatever fits the needs of my story instead of relying on an existing town where many of the facilities are set in stone. The Calgary airport is located in the northeast of the city. I can't just pretend it's in the southwest because it's more convenient for my characters. I would get email from my Calgary readers saying "Hey, I live in Calgary. You got the airport wrong". But I can write that my character is driving three hours to catch a flight from the Calgary airport.

For me, a good story blends fiction and reality in such a way that readers can't easily tell where one stops and the other begins.

Once I chose out the Where?, I need to figure out the When? I can play with four seasons, from scorching heat to biting cold. Now depending where or when I set the story, I can add either thunderstorms, snowstorms, northern lights, gentle rain, blizzard, fog, tornadoes, earthquake, mud slides, sinkholes, glaciers, icebergs... Again, I can brew any storms I want, but it should also be realistic. In my little corner of the world, I can't possibly see northern lights at 11pm at the end of June because the sun hasn't set yet, but I could see them around suppertime in December assuming the sky is clear. I'll grant you it's a detail, but it's the kind of details a reader from a northern community will catch.

If you set a story in a real town or a country you've never visited, make sure you get the details (language, customs, time zones, weather, money, distance, etc...) right. Canadian dollars, Australian dollars, and American dollars aren't the same. Canada and Australia have one-dollar and two-dollar coins, but unlike Australians, we called them loonies and toonies. If in a story, a homeless person stops the hero on the sidewalk and asks if he has a toonie to spare for a coffee, the story doesn't take place Down Under. It takes place in Canada!

Over the summer, I was editing my romantic suspense taking place in a nursing home in Northern Ontario. At one point, my editor (who's not Canadian) commented that I needed to be consistent in my units of measurement, that I couldn't switch back and forth between inches, feet, and kilometres. A long conversation followed during which I explained that even though we converted to the metric system in the mid-1970s, we still use both systems in different circumstances. We measure long distances in kilometers but short distances in inches and feet. My son lives 800 kms away but my guestroom is 10'2" x 12'8". We weigh our food in kilograms but people and pets in lbs. My Chrismas turkey was 5.6kg but my granddaughter is 33lbs and my granddoggie is 14lbs 5oz. The indoor and outdoor temperatures are in Celsius but I set my oven in Fahrenheit. It was -33C on Christmas morning (that was cold!) but I cooked my turkey at 325F. Milk comes 1-litre, 2-litre, and 4-litre cartons but when I make a recipe I measure in cups, tablespoons, or teaspoons. It may not make sense, it may not be consistent (actually it is not consistent), but this is an authentic Canadian setting...and this is so much fun to write, so in the end, the inches, the feet, and the kilometres...they all stayed in the final version of my story.

Be creative and have fun writing, but don't forget to pay attention to details.

Happy 2019!
JS

Correction: A dear reader pointed out that we do have volcanoes in Canada, and the last eruption took place about 150 years ago at Lava Fork in northwestern British Columbia. I should have written we do not have any "active" volcanoes. So I stand corrected. My apology!

 J. S. Marlo's Website

Pillars of Avalon by Katherine Pym & Jude Pittman

KATHERINE PYM shares her cozy life in a Seattle 'Burb' with her husband and puppy-dog. During the summers when it's not raining, they explore the great Northwest. 

PILLARS of Avalon is a celebration of Newfoundland Labrador during Canada's sesquicentennial, or Canada 150. Searching through Newfoundland data, I found Sir David & Lady Sara Kirke, their accomplishments. Sara Kirke is considered North America's first female entrepreneur.    

DAVID and Sarah Kirke live in a time of upheaval under the reign of King Charles I who gives, then takes. He gives David the nod of approval to range up and down the French Canadian shores, burning colonies and pillaging ships that are loaded with goods meant for the French. When King Louis of France shouts his outrage, King Charles reneges. He takes David’s prizes and returns them to the French, putting David and his family in dire straits. 

UNDETERRED, David and Sarah will not be denied. After years, the king relents. He knights David and grants him the Province of Avalon (Ferryland), a large tract of land on the southeast coast of Newfoundland. There David and Sarah build a prosperous plantation. They trade fish and fish oil with English, Europeans, and New England colonists. They thrive while England is torn in two by the civil wars. 

SOON, these troubles engulf his family. David is carried in chains back to England to stand trial. He leaves Sara to manage the plantation, a daunting task but with a strength that defies a stalwart man, she digs in and prospers, becoming the first female entrepreneur of North America. 

For more buy information:

BWL: http://bookswelove.net/authors/pym-katherine/

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/pillars-of-avalon-1

Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/Pillars-Avalon-Canadian-Historical-Brides-ebook/dp/B071CSZ2MR/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/724934

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Novels-by-Katherine-Pym-159221407423473/

Twitter: @KatherinePym