Friday, June 23, 2023

Trash or Treasure? by Victoria Chatham

 




We writers can be a weird lot. And before you ask, yes, I include myself in that statement. Writers are well known for being a bit different, and thank goodness for that. Every single one of us is, like snowflakes, unique. What makes writers different is their penchant for often being somewhere else, off in the clouds, or out of it entirely while their brains deal with recalcitrant characters, create new worlds, or give birth to dragons.

There are myriad ways in which writers write. Some need utter peace and quiet while other writers like listening to music or even require the buzz off a pub or coffee shop, ‘white noise,’ to keep them focused, or partnering up with one or more other writers and having group writing sessions. Like diets, one way does not suit all.

Then there are those writers who like a pristine work surface with no clutter around them. Then there are the clutter bugs who, like bingo players and their lucky dobbers, have to have their talismans, good luck charms, or just things that make them comfortable while they write.


I come somewhere between the two. I like my desk to be clear, but I have objects around me that create my comfort zone. The first is Tigger, a gift I bought my DDH (dear departed husband for those not familiar with this acronym) because, much as he loved Eyore, Pooh, and Piglet in that order, Tigger was his favourite character from Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear stories by A.A. Milne. He thought Tigger was fun, and when I saw this in Toys‘R Us many moons ago, I bought it for him for Christmas. Given his sense of humour, it could not have been a more appropriate gift. Tigger now watches me write, a constant reminder of my DDH’s mantra of ‘Have you written today?’

My right-hand aid is my Scotch whisky-tasting glass. This glass was a birthday gift from said DDH to me, along with a bottle of 15-year-old Dalwhinnie, my preferred Scotch, although I’m happy with any single-malt Scotch. I might add that my glass doesn’t always have Scotch in it! My other aide de comfort is my collection of owls. Owls symbolize wisdom, knowledge and good luck. I hope I have the wisdom and knowledge to write exciting stories and the good luck to have readers enjoy them. Each of the owls in this picture is from different places. The tall, black obsidian owl at the back came from a location close to Teotihuacan in Mexico, while the little white owl in the front came from the island of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland.


So what might be trash to one writer can be an absolute treasure to another. It is up to the individual writer what they are comfortable with, what aids or deters them and sets them up to write in their own distinctive voice.

 

Victoria Chatham

  AT BOOKS WE LOVE


Images from author's collection.

Thursday, June 22, 2023

Being in the scene


 Part of the challenge of writing is taking readers to the setting of our books without writing a travelogue. Other challenges are writing a hook that pulls readers into the story, and creating engaging characters that readers relate to, like, and care about.

The plot for "Peril in Paradise" had been bouncing around my head since a trip to Volcanoes National Park several years ago. Anyone who's ever written a book can happily expand on the difference between having an idea and writing a book. They're about 80,000 words and six months of writing different. I made the transition from idea to story early one morning. 

Having been warned repeatedly by my cop consultant not to talk about my imaginary friends, I'll say that an acquaintance woke me up at midnight. As sometimes occurs, Jill Fletcher wanted me to write down her ideas for the opening of a book set in Hawaii. Rather than allow her to keep tormenting me, I got up and together we wrote the opening chapter of "Peril in Paradise". With the first chapter written, she let me go back to sleep for a few hours, until she dragged me out of bed again at 6 am to continue the story.

Powered by caffeine, Jill and Doug's words, and visions of Volcanoes National Park, I wrote like a mad man. At some point, my wife wandered out of the bedroom and glared at me. Having survived over two decades of my writing, she shook her head and made herself breakfast while I pounded on the computer. She knew I was "in the scene". Yep. I may have been staring at the computer screen, or the blank wall behind it, but I was driving the Chain of Craters Road with the brown/black lava flows. I was eating papaya and warm banana bread in a Volcano Village B&B. I mean, I could smell the baking banana bread and perking Kona coffee as I wrote the scene. As my characters walked outside, I could smell the sulfurous "Vog" from the nearby volcanic eruptions. 

While drafting this book, a reader came to a book event and said it felt like I'd been to every place I'd written about in the Pine County mystery he'd just finished. The answer is yes and no. I've driven most of the back roads in Pine County, just as I've been to Devils Tower, Walnut Canyon, Padre Island National Seashore, Everglades National Park, and canoed down the St. Croix River. However, my mind's eye has taken me places I haven't been.

A prime example of that was when a reader called me and asked how to find an unnamed cop bar in Minneapolis mentioned in an early Pine County mystery. He'd just read a scene set in that bar and was ready to drive there with his wife for supper. I had to admit that particular scene was set in a place that was a composite of several of my favorite restaurants. Sorry, Mike, it's a fictional place. Not to say I wasn't sitting in that fictional bar when I wrote the scene. I could smell the stale beer and the burgers frying on the grill. I saw the walls covered with shoulder patches from dozens of police departments, pinned on the walls by cops from all over the world. Car doors salvaged from old police cars hung from the ceiling. I apparently did such a good enough job of creating that fictional bar that the reader was ready to go there for a juicy burger on a homemade bun.

I hope I've created enough of those places in "Peril in Paradise". I hope your mouth waters when the waitress delivers hebi (short-billed swordfish) in butter wine sauce to Doug and Jill. That you can smell the fresh white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies at their B&B. And maybe even have your nose tickled by sharp sulfur smell at the Kilauea observatory. I saw, smelled, and felt each of those scenes as I wrote them. I never left my chair, but I was there. My stomach even tightened during the helicopter ride. 

I hope I can take you there too.

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

https://books2read.com/Peril-in-Paradise



Wednesday, June 21, 2023

An Illicit moment, Outcast Artist in Bretagne - WWII heartbreak and forbidden love, by Diane Scott Lewis

 


To purchase Outcast Artist in Bretagne, click HERE

It's WWII, and August, the German Commandant, is falling for the Englishwoman Norah. Threats are on all sides. He wants to destroy Hitler, but will Norah destroy his heart? How could they possibly make this work? His attentions will compromise her.

Read an excerpt:


“I realize that.” But August still yearned to know; it had been so long since someone cared—if she cared. “Tell me what is in your heart.”

Norah turned and met his gaze. “I’m not one to mince words. I’m rather blunt, as you’ve pointed out.”

“Then let’s be honest, please.” His throat felt raw. He should let it go, allow her to dismiss him.

She sighed and blinked quickly. “I have feelings I shouldn’t have.”

Ja. As do I.” Two lonely people, or something more? Silence followed, punctuated by rain and the whistle of wind around the building. Her eyes looked huge, and startled, even in the shadows. A woodland creature; but was he a savior or a predator?

Finally, he said, desperate to say something, “May I see what you’ve done so far on the portrait?”

She smiled, looking relieved by the change in subject. “No, not yet. I want it to be completed first.”

He moved toward her, playfully. “Just a peek won’t hurt.”

She spread her arms as if protecting her masterpiece. “Mais non. I’ll tell you when.”

August took a long step toward her. Fräulein Cooper came forward at the same time. They bumped into one another, her breasts right below his chest. He clasped her upper arms. She stared up at him, lips parted, inviting, yet wary. Past helping himself, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. A tightening started low in his body.

She quivered beneath his hands, but didn’t move away, her breath warm on him.

Thunder boomed and rattled the windows. The rain pounded like drumbeats on the roof. The gunshot sounds from his nightmares faded.


“This is wrong, especially for you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I know. Terribly improper. We shouldn’t.” She remained in place, her form delicate under his fingers, and kissed him back with a tiny moan.


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

Tuesday, June 20, 2023

Holiday dilemma...by Sheila Claydon

 




I'm going on holiday, well to visit my son and family actually but I've been assured it will be a holiday. In Singapore. So much to look forward to...seeing my nine year old granddaughter again, catching up with my son and daughter-in-law in person instead of on WhatsApp or Skype, spending 3 weeks in the sun in what I've been assured is a lovely holiday destination. What's not to like? 

My dilemma? Finding the right clothes. It's not that I'm short of summer tops, shorts and trousers but they are all geared to a UK summer. With very little humidity and erratic weather, wearing synthetic fabrics is not a problem. Nor, except occasionally, do I have to slather myself in suncream or remember to wear a hat. In Singapore it seems, things are very different.

Added to this is the fact that because I live a mainly coastal/rural life where walking the dog through woodland or on the beach requires the most practical of clothes and shoes, as does gardening or meeting up with friends for a hike, my wardrobe is full of t-shirts, sweaters, jeans, cropped trousers, trainers and hiking boots. These are clothes that are also totally suited to sitting at the computer writing.  There's not a dress in sight although I do have a couple of pretty tops for the occasional party or dinner.

When I was working it wasn't like that. My wardrobe was full of formal working suits, dresses with jackets, skirts, even trouser-suits because it was a career that encompassed a lot of travel and Boardroom meetings. When I retired, however, everything hung unworn in the wardrobe for far too long until, eventually, I passed  them onto a charity shop. Not that they would have been suitable for Singapore anyway as they would have been too warm. So now I have to do my least favourite thing and go shopping to find clothes that I will rarely be able to wear in the UK.  As I have left it so late in the season, however, at least the prices will have reduced, and I'm sure I'll love them when I get them home.

Arabella, my heroine in Miss Locatelli faced the same dilemma. She was a jeans and sweater type of girl when she wasn't wearing motorcycle leathers, so when she suddenly had to travel to Italy to take charge of her grandfather's ailing jewellery empire she had to revamp her wardrobe in a hurry. With her best friend's help she initially managed to get it so spectacularly wrong that it was very nearly her undoing. I loved writing about Arabella's quirky take on things as much as Luca, the hero, did while falling in love with her. I especially enjoyed the fact that their story took me back to the times I visited Florence and saw for myself the elegance of  Italian business women and enjoyed the wonders of Italian food.  It's a book for anyone who either loves or wants to visit Italy.

Arabella knows her audacious plan to save her family’s century old jewelry business doesn’t stand a chance without Luca Enzio, she just wishes he wasn’t helping her because her grandfather asked him to but because he wants to.

 For his part Luca can’t remember when he was last so turned on by a woman and he doesn’t like it one little bit. Apart from being way too young, Arabella is the granddaughter of a client whose relationship with his family is complicated. The right thing to do would be to walk away but his heart has other ideas.

Then her life begins to unravel in a way that affects both of them and suddenly Luca finds himself fighting for his future as well as for Arabella’s heart.


While my small wardrobe revamp will be of no significance to anyone but me, of course, maybe Singapore will affect me the same way Italy does, and feature in my next book. Oh, and there's one other positive. As my new clothes will really only be useful for Singapore I'll just have to go there again!


Monday, June 19, 2023

This Or That by Helen Henderson

 

Windmaster Golem
Click the title for purchase information

The inspiration for this post came from a family member's new habit of watching old game shows as a means of relaxing before bed. Perry Mason had gotten too repetitive so Classic Concentration and Let's Make A Deal play for a few moments. So how does the choice of "this or that" enter the equation.

In Classic Concentration the contestants need to match hidden prizes. If you find one of the prized "take" cards, you get to take (aka steal) a prize from your opponent. The question asked is do you want to take "xxx or yyy?" Which translates to this or that. In each episode of Let's Make A Deal, contestants are asked whether to keep the money or trade it for a prize. "Keep or Trade" clearly matches the theme of "this or that."

The same dilemma of making a specific choice and the consequences of it can make like difficult for a character. Lady Kiansel, sister to the current Oracle of Givneh, is expected to one day assume the mantle and lead the temple’s followers. Her emerging powers force an impossible decision. To answer the siren call of magic requires she turn her back on her family, her heritage and the teachings of the oracle. Her decision and the consequences of it are in Windmaster Golem.

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

 ~Until next month, stay safe and read.   Helen


Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky and a fesit who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.

Sunday, June 18, 2023

Sneak Peek! Manitoba Canadian Historical Mystery ~ Discarded by Nancy M Bell

 


To find out more about Nancy's books please click on the cover above. Discarded is scheduled for release in September of 2023.


Happy to report Discarded is almost ready. It's been an interesting journey and the more I read and researched the more I realized how much the British have to apologize for with regards to the high handed arrogant way they ran roughshod over the peoples already living in the areas the British colonized. However, this is not the place for political discussions. Just let's leave it at this: Louis Riel was a good man who stood up for his people. We should celebrate him, not villainize him as they did in my elementary school History class.

Discarded, the title, refers to the women who were married to the men who came to settle in Rupert's Land in an arrangment called 'la facon du pays' (according to the custom of the country). Without the help of these First Nations and Metis women many of these men would not have survived the harsh conditions. However, when the settlement grew larger the English and Scots brought women from Britain to Rupert's Land who they married in churches as the Catholic and Presbyterian clergy did not recognize the arrangements of la facon du pays. The women who had sustained the first arrivals were cast out and left to fend for themselves and their children by the men now married to 'more suitable wives'. 

Here is a snippet of the first chapter.

Chapter One

“Marguerite, you must go to him. Etienne needs medicine, the fever is eating him up,” Marie Anne urged her sister.

The younger woman shook her head, wringing out a cloth in cold water to soothe her child. “How can I? The English woman, she is there now, I doubt Miles will even speak to me.”

“He must, Etienne is his son!” Marie-Anne insisted.

“No longer.” The words were bitter. “He has disowned the bebe and me, discarded us like so much offal. Now that his fancy English lady has arrived.”

“Still, Marguerite, you must go and ask. I will come with you. Together we will convince your Miles to either send the British doctor or give us money for the medicine.” Anne Marie pulled the dripping cloth from Marguerite’s hand and threw it on the pounded earth floor. “Look at him! You cannot just let him die. If you won’t go yourself, I will go in your stead.”

Marie-Anne whirled around, grabbing two thin shawls from the back of a chair, and wrapping them around her shoulders. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at her sister. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, oui, of course. I know you are right. It is just my pride that stops me. For how long was I his wife in every sense of the word? If not for me, and you, and others like us, those soft Englishmen would never have survived their first winter. It was our relatives who brought them buffalo and other provisions to see them through, and us who cared for them, chopped wood, carried the water, bore their children…” Marguerite broke off, her throat closing in frustration and sorrow for all that they’d lost. Angrily, she swiped the moisture from her cheeks and straightened her back. “Come, we go. Alexandre! Come watch your brother while I go to your father to ask for help.”

The older boy poked the dying fire one more time before crossing the small room. He picked the sodden cloth up from the floor and wrung it out. After rinsing it with some water from the bucket by the bed, he wiped his little brother’s face.

Maman, he’s burning up.” Alex looked up at her. “Will Papa come and take him to the doctor? Why hasn’t he come to see us lately?”

“Your papa will not be coming, nor will he take Etienne to the doctor. The best we can hope for is that he will send the doctor or at least make provision for the apothecary to give me some medicine for him. I have tried the best I can with the willow bark, but it isn’t enough.”

“Will Eitienne die like Elizabeth?” Alex glanced at the empty cradle still sitting by the hearth.

“Not if I can help it,” Anne Marie promised. She took Marguerite’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “Put this on against the cold.” She thrust a Hudson’s Bay blanket into the other woman’s arms.

Oui, yes, we must go. You are right.” Marguerite wrapped the woolen blanket tightly around her, and after one last look at her children, followed her sister out into the bitter wind blowing down the Red River, howling around the eaves of the small buildings and sending snow flying into their faces.

Alex’s last words echoed in Marguerite’s head as she shouldered her way against the wind. “Tell Papa I miss him.” She snorted, as if Miles cared about them anymore. Even little Elizabeth, dead at six months of age, hadn’t moved him to contribute to her burial. It was the English woman’s fault. She was the one who turned Miles against them. Charlotte Windfield, what sort of name was Charlotte anyway? Grief stabbed her for a moment, not Windfield anymore, oh no. Miles married her in the church two weeks ago. So now she was Charlotte Ashmore. Lady Ashmore.

“Marguerite, come on, hurry up.” Anne Marie looked over her shoulder and waited for her sister to catch up.

“Sorry, the wind is stealing my breath.”

“Here, take my arm. It’s only a little way more. Surely Miles will ask us in and let us get warm before we go on.”

The walk from the Metis community to the more substantial homes of the British and Scottish population was a long one on a good day, for the two women walking into the teeth of the northwest wind it seemed interminable. Marguerite pulled Anne Marie to a halt in the lee of the church.

“A moment, I need to catch my breath,” she said, also needing to strengthen her resolve not to do damage to either Lord Ashmore, her erstwhile husband, or the English woman now ensconced in the fancy house just up the street.

“A moment, then. But we mustn’t waste time. Come.” Anne Marie grasped her arm and towed her sister out of the lee of the building into the wind once more.

Marguerite led the way up the path to the front door, pausing before the two steps up to the porch to take a deep breath and straighten the blanket around her shoulders. Head held high, she mounted the steps and rapped loudly on the door. Anne Marie hovered at her side; shoulders hunched against the wind.

“Yes?” Lord Ashmore’s man servant opened the door.

“I need to speak with Miles. Immediately.” Marguerite blinked in light spilling over the man’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid that is impossible. You should know better than to come here where you are not welcome.” He made disapproving noises with his tongue and made to shut the door, his strong London East End accent making it difficult for her to understand him.

“No!” Anne Marie thrust forward and stuck her foot in the door. “A child’s life is at stake. We must speak with Lord Ashmore.”

“Who is it, Gregory?” Light footsteps and the clicking of heels on the polished wooden floor proceeded the voice.

“Nothing for you to worry about, m’am.” He moved to block the woman’s view of the porch.

“I need to speak with Miles,” Marguerite shouted. “His son is very ill.”

“Oh!” Charlotte Ashmore topped in her tracks and took a step back. “My husband has no son. I’m afraid you are mistaken. Now leave this place immediately.”

“I assure you Miles does have a son, two of them in fact, and a dead infant daughter. Now let me speak to him,” Marguerite insisted. 


Until next month, stay well, stay happy.
Nancy


Saturday, June 17, 2023

After the Idea, Plot Comes Next by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #writing #plot

 

 

Once I've spend days of hours with the idea for a book, I then decide what's next. For me, that's the Plot. While there are many types of Plots, I must choose the one that's right for the book. For a fantasy story, I usuallt choose the Quest plot. This emns sending my characters out into the world in search of something. Sometimes a physical thing and sometings more of a growingup quest. These are fun to write.

The story I'm talking about today is pursuing Doctor West. This uses the chase plot. That's often the case of a romance, at least the romances I write and enjoy reading. In this story, Zelda has loved Doctor West since they were children and next door neighbors. Her attempts always seem to be futile. How can she win.  The opening scene shown him returning home as a surgeon and joining and group of doctors. He learns Zelda is the nurse manager of the surgical unit. He wants to avoid her but tha doesn't seem possible. Zelda sees him andknows what she wants. The middle of the book is the chase and her many failures to succeed. Then comes the twsit as the middle comes to an end. Zelda decides she will never succeed and she decides to leave. Suddenly the reverse happens and he decides to chase Zelda.

So having decided on the plot, I begin the process of writing which ever book I've decided to write.

Friday, June 16, 2023

The Joy of Packing House (said no one EVER), by J.C. Kavanagh

A Bright Darkness,
Book 3 of the Award-winning Twisted Climb series

My partner Ian and I are in the process of selling our country home. It's been on the market for a few months and though we've had some offers, they were in the 'low-ball' range. But then we received a decent offer, which we accepted. The potential buyers are city folk and had fallen in love with our home and property - until they discovered, during the home inspection, that there is no secret 'world' that happily and greedily accepts all water being poured down the drains. But the showstopper was the horror that there's no secret 'poop world' where - like magic - the contents of a toilet drop into a mystical nether region. That discovery was so un-nerving that the buyers backed out of the deal. They just couldn't wrap their head around the idea of a septic system. Their loss.

Home sweet home


In the meantime, and having lived in this lovely home for 12 years, I had to get serious about eliminating excess material, or as Ian calls it, junk. The very cheek!

I'm also starting the packing process. Our realtors have stressed the importance of a clean, tidy and clutter-free home, ready for a showing at any time and at short notice. 

How do you do that, you ask?

Well, first you think of a place to 'hide' your stuff on short notice. Actually, you need to find several places. But the key thing about that, and I stress 'KEY,' is making sure your other half knows where the hiding places are. Oh, and a side note: knowing how to read minds is helpful.

For example - where do you put the cellphone charging cords? Inside the small pot in the pots and pans drawer, of course. Who wouldn't think of looking there, right? 




And then there's the place to hide your hygiene items (shaving kit, deodorant, etc.) Well, depending on how quickly I have to stash the stuff, Ian's kit could be in a) his armoire, or b) the linen closet, or c) his clothes closet. You can't even imagine the level of patience he's acquired while finding his stuff. So great.

Where to put the shower items hanging on the shower stall? Inside the laundry hamper, silly. 

And what about work-related bags? They go in the dryer, of course.

After all these months, I can say with absolute certainty - there is no joy in packing house. It's hard work and something I hope we don't have to do again for a very, very long time.

If you're not busy packing your home, take the chance to read The Twisted Climb trilogy. You will find great satisfaction in a good read. That I can say with certainty. Enjoy!


J.C. Kavanagh, author of 

The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3)
and
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels 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)
Instagram @authorjckavanagh


Tuesday, June 13, 2023

A Good Man Is Hard to Find


                                         Find lots of good men in my books: here!


I love celebrating good men in my novels... whether it's teen-aged Tad Gist of my Linda Tassel Mysteries, struggling with coming of age in a new place, but sure of his love for Linda, or Rowan Buckley of Mercies of the Fallen and Ursula's Inheritance-- a Civil War soldier who changes his son's diapers, to Luke Kayenta of the Code Talker Chronicles, who honors his Diné Navajo heritage, his country, and the woman he loves.

I am so fortunate to have had a great dad. Here is is with his first daughter, my sister Marie... Can you see the delight in his eyes? Marie was born during World War II and he had to wait a long time to meet her.



My children have a great dad, too. Here he is with our youngest...

And again, a few years later...

Our son has taught me there are many ways to be a man. (Happy Pride Month, by the way... I love coming out as an ally of our precious LGBTQ+ children!)



Here's to good men everywhere, may your life be blessed with many...





 

Monday, June 12, 2023

Creating a Novel Series Cover Brand



BWL's Art Director didn't set out to create a cover brand for my Paula Savard Mystery Series. The first cover that Michelle Lee designed for me was for book # 2 of my series, Ten Days in Summer, published in 2017. The process began with me filling out a BWL Cover Art Form (CAF). I provided details about the story, its setting in Calgary, and the two main characters and suggested images related to these. At that time, BWL required that most novel covers include at least one image of a person. 

I plugged keywords into the photo image website, searching for ones that suited my protagonist and the story antagonist, a wannabe cowboy. None were exactly right, especially for Paula, my insurance adjuster sleuth. "Female detective" turned up images of young women peering through magnifying glasses. Paula is fifty-two and doesn't use that prop. Keywords "female insurance adjuster" showed women examining cars. The story involves a building fire insurance claim. I tried "businesswomen" and got images of women sitting in meetings, while Paula spends her time out on the case. 

I selected the best images for Paula that I could find along with images for my antagonist, which included a silhouetted cowboy.  I also suggested images of the Calgary skyline, fires, and a boarded-up house for the burned building. I don't think Michelle used any of the exact images I sent, but she meshed my ideas into a cover that was better than one I could have designed (see cover image above). The fire suggests the heat of summer in the title. 

Two years later, BWL republished A Deadly Fall, book # 1 in the series. During that short time period, book cover fashion moved away from portraying people and toward crisp and intriguing images that evoke a sense of the story. Now BWL's CAF stated that most covers would not include a person. I sent people image suggestions anyway, but I found it easier not to have to focus on finding an image that fit the characters in my head. On my CAF, I suggested images for the Calgary skyline and fall -- fall leaves on water, a path in fall, trees with colourful fall leaves, and falling leaves. Again, I doubt Michelle chose my actual suggestions, but they were her starting point to create this golden cover.   


When the third series book, Winter's Rage, was ready for a cover two years later, we were on our way to a series cover brand. My CAF included a few people image suggestions -- a woman texting, a man in a snowstorm, but I focused on images of the Calgary skyline in winter and winter driving, since this story was about a hit-and-run collision.  For the first time I considered colour. While red, orange, and yellow suited the fall and summer seasons of the first two books, I saw winter as white, blue, and black (night). Michelle came up with a cover that continued the brand with snowflakes and a frozen Calgary. Winter's book cover was blue, with yellow lettering that linked it to the colour of the two earlier books in the series.   


 By book # 4 of my Paula Savard Mystery Series, the series brand was established: Calgary skyline, colours to suit the story season, and additional images related to the season or story. Since bicycles feature prominently in Spring Into Danger, I included bicycle images among my CAF suggestions and chose Calgary skyline images that had a place for a bike or cyclist in the foreground. Here's the cover design for Spring Into Danger, which is scheduled for release in September. 


 I like how the cyclist pops into view. Whenever I look at this cover, I don't notice him until he emerges from the shadows. The book's blue cover with yellow lettering matches Winter's Rage and the covers for the four books have come full circle by including a silhouette on the first and last design. I look forward to seeing Spring Into Danger sitting on a bookshelf.   


Sunday, June 11, 2023

All About Chicken Noodle Soup by Karla Stover

 


By The Same Author:

Parlor Girls                                     An Everleigh Sisters (world famous madams) bio.

Wynter's Way                                    A Gothic Novel

Murder" When One Isn't Enough    A Puget Sound / Hood Canal murder mystery

A Line to Murder                             A Tacoma, WA / Puget Sound murder mystery

Visit Karla's BWL Author page for book and purchase information


One of the fondest memories I have of my maternal grandmother is of her chicken noodle soup. I used to go to her house to help her clean cupboards and she'd have the stock simmering on the stove and homemade noodles drying on racks.

Jump ahead forty-odd years. There is a dinner near our home which makes its BLT with piles of bacon - - a favorite of my husband, but it never has chicken noodle soup. I asked so many times one of the waitresses (not wait staff, it's not that kind of place) told me they only have it on special occasions. Good grief, we're not talking about haute cuisine here, just a comfort food.

Who first put noodles in broth is up to debate. Chickens were domesticated around 7,000 to 10,000 years ago in Southeast Asia, but they were valued mainly for their eggs. Many archeologists believe that during the Upper Paleolithic period (which broadly dates to between 50,000 and 12,000 ago) people used "small earth ovens lined with hot rocks" to boil water for cooking meat or root vegetables. Of course, since it's pretty much impossible for historians to agree on anything, other archeologists think that perishable containers full of water were first boiled for cooking either over the fire or directly on hot ashes or stones. 

Under Google's "People Ask," the earliest recorded evidence of chicken soup being used as a therapeutic dish dates back to the ancient Chinese. "In the second century BC, the Chinese medical text, Huangdi Neijing, declared that chicken soup is a “yang food” – a warming dish – to which different therapeutic herbs can be added to cure various diseases."

However, ancient Greeks also had their own version of chicken broth, and chickens were boiled by a wide variety of cultures in Polynesia, Africa, Europe, and elsewhere in Asia. 

As far back as the Middle Ages throughout western Europe and the Mediterranean countries, chicken broth was commonly thought to be healthful though no one knows really why. It was thought to ease digestion and was supposed to be easier to digest than solids. Sick people were advised to consume broth. Some historians say recommending broth to an invalid "may have been related  to the body's four humors." And finally, others said that at the time there was a prevailing philosophy of "what could be more healthful than a food whose color resembled a human's complexion?" 

In 1465 the Italian gastronomist Bartolomeo Platina published the first cookbook, On Honourable Pleasure and Health. In it is a recipe recommending "chicken broth for the old and infirm."

Enter the Noodle

In Asia, as far back as "the early 1200s" cooks were adding noodles to broth. And by the 1700s Italians were feeding noodle soups to the ill and ailing "because it was easy to digest."

Joan Nathan (sometimes called the Jewish Julia Child) says chicken soup has been on the menu for centuries." She says, Seraphetic Jewish Philosopher Moses Ben Maimon, generally known as Maimonids,  advocated chicken soup as "a panacea for many different things: asthma, weight gain (like bone soup is today), and leprosy." 

Chicken soup came to America in the 16th century when Jews, Mennonites and Amish immigrants introduced it. Soup recipes containing chicken started appearing in various publications in 1824. "However, the term, 'chicken soup' wasn't commonly used until the late 19th century." 

Commercial soup took off in he late 19th century with the invention of canning, however, it became even more popular in 1895 when  an America  chemist named  John Thompson Dorrance found a method to condense it. American manufacturers began producing chicken soup with noodles and in 1934 Campbell's debuted its Noodle with Chicken Soup. Five years later a radio host inadvertently referred to it as Chicken Noodle Soup and the already-popular soup became even more so.

The nutrients in chicken noodle soup make it a healthy food, and its high contents of tryptophan which helps the body produce the mood enhancer serotonin makes it the perfect comfort food.

My husband wants to go the neighborhood dinner tonight and I'm pretty sure the soup will be chowder left over from last night (Friday) and vegetable in a tomato broth. (Ugh!) It wouldn't be so bad but their frequent alternative, French Fried, aren't very good either.



Saturday, June 10, 2023

Writers, Authors and a Bookstore - Barbara Baker

 

Writing is a solitary process. So, when you get a chance to meet up with writer friends and participate at a bookstore author event you jump on a plane and fly to Ontario.

First stop, the Stephen Leacock Museum in Orillia, Ontario. My friend goes into the office. “I know the museum isn’t open, but she’s come all the way from Calgary.” She points at me. “Is there a chance we can take a look?”

“Of course,” the cheery lady says. “Give me five minutes. I’ll open it for you.”

I grin at my persuasive friend, and she winks back.

While we wait, we head to Leacock’s Boathouse. Painted figures resembling characters from Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town align the pathway.

And then we’re off to check out Leacock’s home. With no one else around we’re able to take our time and read all the plaques. 

        Stephen Leacock facts:

        - 1869-1944 born in England, 10 siblings, family moved to Ontario in 1876, father became an alcoholic and abandoned the family in 1878.

        - Leacock was a teacher, political scientist, writer, humourist (best known English-speaking humourist of his time).

        - In 1900 he married Beatrix Hamilton, an actress. They had one son, Stephen Lushington.

        - Leacock’s colleagues warned him his reputation would be ruined if he published humour. Beatrix encouraged him to publish it regardless of what others thought.

        - In 1990, while completing upgrades on the Leacock house, love letters from Beatrix were found in a secret panel in the bedroom closet. They were written before she died of breast cancer in 1925 at 46 years old. The letters tell of their love story and depict a side of Leacock few people were privy to.

        - Beatrix passed away before the house was complete.

                 Okay, enough Leacock trivia. We’re off to meet the others. There’s much to catch up on so a simple supper of nachos and fixings, red wine, Hawkins Cheezies (no substitutes) and assorted chocolates carry us late into the night. My cheeks hurt. Tears fall. Weight is lifted off shoulders. Exhausting good fun.

Early the next morning we leave in the rain, headed for Uxbridge, Ontario for the Independent Book Store celebration at Blue Heron Books. I get to promote my book, hang with authors and try to appear unterrified.

 

At the bookstore, I get a name tag which helps me remember who I am when fear nails my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I pull up my big girl panties and approach authors, ask them questions about their book(s) and writing journey. It’s not a walk in the park for anyone – this book writing gig. It’s hard work. A lot of hard work. 

From a distance, I watch Canadian bestselling author, Terry Fallis chatting. He’s relaxed. Smiles like it’s not painful. I want to go over and tell him I follow his newsletters and enjoy reading how his career didn’t just fall in his lap. But I’m too shy. He’s…well, he’s Terry Fallis. I can only hope in my lifetime to look that comfortable. Be that confident. Did I mention he’s a two-time winner of the Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour? How awesome is he?

I recognize two authors chatting in the kid’s section. I approach and say, “Would it be okay if I hang with you gals?” They smile and say, “sure” in unison.

Time flies and then it’s over. I leave with a bag full of new books and notice my friends purchase my books and discreetly slip them into their bags. I’m a lucky lady to have them as friends.

On the drive home, the rains stops. The sun shines. The chatter continues. 

We make plans to put together an anthology of our short stories and publish them in a book. It’ll be a lot of work. But I know there will be another trip to Ontario to review the hardcopy draft. I can hardly wait. 

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

 

 

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