The River, Waterfalls, and the Writing Life by S. L. Carlson

The River, Waterfalls, and the Writing Life by S. L. Carlson

I am S. L. Carlson, a proud and grateful BWL Publishing Inc. author. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

 

 Part I:

Waterfalls in northern Wisconsin flow best in May, when most of the snow has melted and the rains have begun filling the rivers. May is also a time before mosquitoes, thick enough to carry off a human, start to immerge, and before tourists start crowding in. It was an adventure.

Locating waterfalls was mostly tentative. I had two paper maps open on my lap, as well as a sightseeing book of Wisconsin, as well as a brochure on waterfalls in two counties. Even so, directions were not always clear, and our time limited. Finding a waterfall was all a matter of trust: my husband trusting me to get us into the approximate area; me trusting maps and books which sometimes contradicted; trusting signs with no further directions of where to go, but having to take our best guesses. Sometimes, physical signs to reach it were antiquated and/or vague.

 

To reach two of them, it took driving various dirt backroads reach the trailheads, followed with gorgeous woodland hikes of an hour one way to the tumbling falls. One hike was under rumbling-thundering skies. But adventure and determination ruled. And the end result was well worth it.

 

Sometimes, physical signs to reach it were antiquated and/or vague.

 

After finding a place to park, we wandered near hydroelectric plants, through forested areas beside fenced-off cliffs, then followed our ears to the sound of rushing water.

 

The river above the more major falls often runs deep, swift, and silent. Then comes the continuous tumble of water. (Earplugs were recommended for one.) After the churning and bubbling ceases below the falls, the river once again runs quietly.

 

Part II:

My writing life, writing a novel, is like a river. It can start with an idea, like a spring bubbling up in a high meadow. As the idea develops, the story-stream widens into a river with more characters, action and plot, running deeper and faster. I start writing faster as I feel the story coming to life. I must admit that there are times when I write blind, not sure where the river is going. Sometimes a tributary leads me to backwater or a still pond. Do I block it off or ignore it, or is it interesting enough to keep in? Always, though, I must backtrack to return to the writing river, to the essence of the story.

My river tumbles as whitewater over rocks with various conflicts in the story.

There are twists and turns in the river I can’t always see around. I mean…which the reader can’t see around. There are areas with towering cliffs on each side, evidence of erosion from the many authors before me, carving the way for me to follow. Then comes the climax, the rushing, tumbling, crashing to below. But follow the river downstream, and it continues on, silent and calm.

 

From the bubbling beginnings of a story idea, my novels develop into the deep and silent river flow, gathering more and more speed, to the sound and expectation and excitement of the dramatic climax, the waterfall, finally concluding with the quiet, satisfactory story ending.

 

May each book you read follow to the thrill of the river and waterfall adventure.

 

S. L. Carlson Blog & Website: https://authorslcarlson.wordpress.com

BWL Inc. Publisher Author Page: https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l 

My Tsunami Summer

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/carlson-s-l-ya-fantasy/

Summer is officially over. Thank God!


This past summer I couldn’t get enough of tsunami videos. I stoically watched 2-3 hours a day of YouTube footage, mostly of 2004 Indonesia and 2011 Japan. It wasn’t until the end of July when I finally acknowledged my strange summer obsession and looked up from the floodwaters long enough to question why. Answer: my summer had become wave after wave of losses. It all began with my husband’s sudden loss of health the third week in June.

He had earlier scheduled four weeks off this summer for vacation and study leave, including our second-ever cruise. It turned out to be not a vacation, nor study leave; not even staycation. It was a summer-long sickation with his mysterious illness continuing to baffle doctors as of this writing.

Included in this summer’s losses were the cruise and the money for it because, always being fit and healthy, we had not considered travel insurance. Our spare refrigerator-freezer quit working. Of course, since it’s not often used, I didn’t notice it had stopped until all the food was spoiled. Our second car (25-years-old) became no longer dependable. We sold it for parts, but have not gotten a replacement. We sold our boat of 13 years because he could no longer trailer it. This was the first summer that family has not visited us, nor us them. My husband’s dizziness made him unable to drive; I became chauffeur. He lost 30 pounds since the illness began. (Yay, weight loss; boo, unintentional.) I gave up knitting since I only knit at night while watching dramas with him, but he was not up for watching TV. I gave up gardening – the first time without veggies in our yard in over 40 years. We also loss power for six hours one evening, but no big deal. I gave up singing and playing guitar, but worst of all, stopped writing.

Unexpected positive things also came as a result of this past summer – spending hours together without distractions; unburdening ourselves of big material things; my husband could sit, so sorted and shredded 40 years of bills and receipts; I couldn’t concentrate to write, and didn’t want to be far from him, so began making miniatures (HO railroading scenery and buildings, D&D and gaming, and a miniature house for my grandkids, of their own house). Also, surprisingly, three places asked me to do book signings without me even contacting them.

With the dozens of medical tests, we know all the things which are going right for my husband. A bit of self-diagnosis, what ifs, and insisting on certain tests…we aren’t there yet, but we feel we’re getting close to finding answers.

My husband’s only about 50%, but able to drive himself to work. I began writing on my next book, and am very excited about it. I also quit watching tsunami videos.

Going through periods of loss is tough. Seeing the hope of light at the end of the tunnel is hopeful. May you, who have gone through or are going through loss, see some encouraging hope of light. Keep on writing. Keep on reading.

Toilets, Loos, Privies, Earth Closets, etc by S. L. Carlson

Toilets, Loos, Privies, Earth Closets, etc by S. L. Carlson

I’m not one for bathroom humor. Toilets, on the other hand, are a different matter.

Roman engineers were brilliant sewer-builders. Fountains, public baths, public latrines, and important buildings were all hooked up to the system. Water washed the muck away into ditches,  rivers, or lay in cesspools.

Roman men and women went together in the same, open, many-seater latrine. With no toilet paper, they used sponge sticks to wipe their bottoms. Although wealthy people had servants to do this job for them.

A stercorarius had the opportunity to collect muck from cesspools and slop buckets. He’d take them outside the city and sell this black gold to farmers to use on their crops.

In the 1400’s Sir Richard Wittington left money to build a 64-seater latrine in London.

In the countryside during Victorian times, your privy would be a hole in a plank of wood overtop a bucket, called an Earth Closet, as dirt was tossed in between uses. When the bucket got full, the contents went onto the garden or field.

In the 1830’s thousands of people died in London from cholera from the sewage, dead animals, chemicals, etc dumped directly into the Thames, the same water used for drinking.

In 1858, London, a heatwave caused the Big Stink. With 100 ordinary citizens using the same privy, it overflowed into the streets and river. It was so bad that Parliament met away from the Thames. That same year, they started a new sewer system with over 83 miles of sewers.

In the 1860’s USA, Clara Barton climbed into a hole next to a “death bed” – every soldier getting that bed died. She discovered the hole led directly to the cesspool, which fumes were causing the deaths.

Today, there are millions of people who do not have a toilet system with chain or flusher to wash away our muck. Some travelers discover they are unwilling to “go native” over a hole in the floor, and request the location of a “western toilet.”

Bathrooms aren’t mentioned in many of our fictional stories. However, knowing what, where, how, when, and with whom your characters need to do their necessities may get you more into your character’s mindset. Or…perhaps not.

Cheers! A Little Taste of Wine's History

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/carlson-s-l-ya-fantasy/

Cheers! A Little Taste of Wine's History by S. L. Carlson
(Disclaimer: Too much of any good thing is always bad. Drink responsibly.)

Customs with wine-making and wine-drinking varies with cultures and times.
Here are a few interesting historical wine facts:

* Greek grape stompers were usually slaves, who crushed the fruit to live music
* Ancient wine was used as both beverage and medicine
* Alcohol is mentioned 165 times in the Bible, usually favorably
* Wine was often mixed with water, 1:3
* Additives were common, like cinnamon, violets, larkspur, parched bread, etc.
* Parched bread = toast (Cheers!)
* Cheers came from the Latin for face, but later came to mean gladness
* Before cork was so available, pitch, oil, or clay was used to seal the wine
* The host poured off the first of the wine to taste to make sure no clay or oil lingered
* By drinking first, the host also assured his friends it was safe for them to drink
* Romans sometimes sweetened old wine with sugar of lead (lead acetate), and after simmering in a lead pot, it was served in lead goblets
* During medieval times, people were afraid the devil would enter them through drink, so they clinked their wooden or clay goblets together to scare off evil. Other earlier cultures, also made noises before drinking to scare off ghosts or demons


Working IX to V by Vicki Leon
How Did it Begin by Dr. R. & L. Brasch
https://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/22/messages/526.html

Although wine does not come into my stories much, please enjoy a glass of your favorite beverage as you read one of my books from:

http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/carlson-sandy-young-adult/

Ghost Stories Now and Then by S. L. Carlson

Ghost Stories Now and Then by S. L. Carlson

Do you believe in ghosts? Should you believe in ghosts? The idea of ghosts has fascinated me my whole life. Ghosts have been around for as long as there have been people.

I’ve never been keen to see one, but I have sensed and heard them. I don’t like to acknowledge them for fear of an introduction. Ignorance-Ignoring is bliss. Still, it’s hard to ignore a mixer turning on and off by itself. So when something like that happens I spin and point my finger to the air, and in my strongest ghost-scolding voice, say, “Stop that! Not funny!”

A house siding contractor went into our basement when we weren’t home. He had no business down there. I only figured it out when we returned and he looked pale, asking if our house was haunted. I laughed and mentioned our doorbell ringing at odd hours with no one there (even when we’re by the door to “catch” anyone). He mentioned a door slammed when he was inside. (Why was he inside, anyway?) Even though there was no breeze, I suggested the wind did it. He said there were no windows opened. Well, yes, there were, but not in the basement! Good, old ghost.

The Great Lakes have thousands of ghost stories, as well they should from the many untimely deaths on them. One told in the Milwaukee Journal, January 24, 1895, is of a man named Bill who died en route to Buffalo. When the ship arrived, the entire crew felt the vessel was now unlucky, so didn’t sign on for the trip over to Cleveland. The mate shanghaied a new crew. As they neared the boat, they pointed to the ship’s mast. The mate recognized the figure as Bill. The new crew, drunk as they were, fled. Finally other crew members came. The ship never made it to Cleveland. It sunk off of Dunkirk with all hands.

One more (of the thousands): On November 28, 1966, the Daniel J. Morrell broke apart in the middle of the night during a storm on Lake Huron. Watchman Dennis Hale was in his bunk when the ship cracked. He grabbed his life jacket and ran on deck in only his shorts. The ship had buckled. He ran back to his bunk for his pea jacket and made it into a lifeboat with three others. As the waves crested the raft, the water turned to ice on them. They lay in the lifeboat. Dennis was in the middle. The other three froze to death in the night. The next day he washed up on rocks, but too far to swim in the freezing water. He started to eat the ice from his pea jacket when a translucent man in white hovered over him and told him not to eat the ice or it would lower his body temperature and he’d die. The following day the same vision occurred. He was rescued, given last rites because he was so near death, but lived. As the sole survivor of the sinking, it took more than twenty years before he told the rest of the survival story with words of ghostly advice.

F.Y.I. There will be ghosts in my book coming out in September with BWL, Escape, War Unicorn Chronicles, Book 2. Find my other books here: http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/carlson-sandy-young-adult/