A Writer's Melting Pot by Victoria Chatham

 AVAILABLE HERE

Beginning a new book is always an exciting project for me. There are places to research, houses to build, characters to create and plots to devise, all or some of which may eventually find their way onto my pages. 

I start with my characters, getting to know them as I build their backstories, their life histories with all their strengths and weaknesses, failures and successes. Whether I am writing historical or contemporary Western romance, my character questionnaire follows the same pattern. The characters have to reflect their era, so I'm careful about naming them, and if I'm writing a Regency romance, then I have to make sure my characters' titles are correct.

Next, I work on my settings, the stage on which my characters perform. My Regencies have a mix of city and rural settings because the peerage split their time between London, for when Parliament was in session, and their country estates when it adjourned. The busiest time, known as the Season, was between Easter and when the House adjourned in July. By then, most people were keen to get out of town because of the smell.

Country estates are lovely to create, and many of my imaginary ones come from illustrations in books like Country Houses From the Air or The English Country House and the very useful Georgian and Regency Houses Explained. I have floor plans for country houses and smaller but no less impressive townhouses. From there, I can create my settings with a measure of accuracy and viability. What might be included on any of these estates as far as farms and crops are concerned, are all gleaned from internet searches for letters and records of the big houses, some of them going back hundreds of years, and depend on what part of the country (being England, Scotland, or Wales) the estate is. Building styles change somewhat from county to county depending on what materials are available or how wealthy the lord of the manor might be.

Weather, with all the light and shade that comes with it, plays a part in my settings, too. For information

on a particular year, I start with a visit to https://premium.weatherweb.net/weather-in-history, and to pin-point a timeline for where my characters are, I consult https://www.timeanddate.com/calendar/?year=1818&country=9. The weather can affect so many aspects of my character’s mood. If it’s warm and sunny, then likely she is too. If it’s raining, all sorts of events can transpire from that. Think Marianne Dashwood getting soaked in the rain in Sense and Sensibility. Rain heralded my hero’s arrival in Folkestone in my book His Dark Enchantress. It fit his mood and the seriousness of the situation in which his wife, my heroine, had been abducted.

Plants and flowers play a part, too, and for this, I use a Reader’s Digest book of English flora, plus Culpeper’s Complete Herbal. It pays to know what plants grow in which part of the country because someone will surely call you out if have a daffodil growing where it never would or a lark singing in central London as this is a bird that likes open countryside.

How I dress my characters also comes into play, and for this, I use an Illustrated Encyclopedia of Costume, Fashion in Jane Austen’s London and just because, The History of Underclothes. When I go home to the UK for a visit, I'll go to museums. One of my favourites is the Costume Museum in Bath. YouTube can be particularly useful, especially clips like Undressing Mr. Darcy. I guess I’m a bit of a nerd because I do enjoy research, and if I come across a particularly interesting snippet, it makes my day. Whether I can use it or not in a book becomes another matter altogether.

I'm fortunate to live in Alberta, Canada. Touring the Rockies, visiting small towns and their museums, and going to rodeos have all helped with my Western settings. It's said a picture is worth a thousand words, and I have many photographs of mountains and rivers, open prairie and dusty badlands. I've interviewed cowboys and stock contractors and once spent a day on a working ranch where the owner was quite shocked to hear that I had never seen a moose. "There was one down in the muskeg this morning," he said. So off we went in a well-worn pick-up truck to find the moose. After driving around for an hour, there was no sign of said moose, so we looked at some of his stock and went back to the ranch house for coffee.

Most authors are people watchers, but in addition to watching, I like talking to them, too. You never know what might come up in conversation. Someone might throw away a line that you know you just have to fit into your dialogue somewhere, as in Legacy of Love, where one cowboy asks, "Are you being straight with me?" and the answer is "straighter than a yard of pump water." Writing is a joy and a challenge, sometimes a frustration, but never, ever, boring as all the elements that make a story come together in the melting pot of this author's mind. Oh, and the new book? Look out for Loving Georgia Caldwell coming this fall.

Victoria Chatham

  AT BOOKS WE LOVE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A "touch" of humor

A reader (who I'll call Larry) texted me early this morning to say he'd paused while reading the "Peril in Paradise" ending because he was laughing so hard. Deeply into a draft of "Whistling Fireman", an upcoming October release, I tried to recall any humor I'd inserted into the "Peril in Paradise" ending. The mystery was quickly solved when he sent me a screenshot of the page where Doug Fletcher and his former boss were discussing the state of Fletcher's kitchen cupboard. In the book's opening, Fletchers had purchased a new house but were dispatched to Hawaii before unpacking the boxes. In their absence, Jill Fletcher's best friend, Mandy, had unpacked for them, arranging things in the "proper" manner, as taught during Mandy's debutante training.

Doug was taken aback by the alphabetization of their spice collection. The reader accompanied his text with a picture of their spice collection. His wife had also alphabetized their spice cupboard. Larry contended that his wife was not a debutante, but more likely suffered from OCD.

I LOVE receiving that kind of feedback. Knowing that some quirky line sparked someone's laughter is heartwarming. 

One of the hallmarks of the Doug Fletcher series is the banter between Doug and Jill. They argue, kid, and cajole each other. They suffer through embarrassing moments with their families. I try to make the characters "human", with the real strengths and faults we all have. The Fletcher reviews often comment on the humor and how real the characters feel. One reader said he'd like to invite Jill and Doug over for a beer and conversation. Another wished her family was as nice as the Fletcher and Rickowski families are. A third reader approached me, expressing concern about the future of Jill and Doug's relationship after an uncertain moment between them at the end of "Washed Away." Luckily, they were back in the following book, kidding each other about Texas barbecue and a flirtatious waiter.

The Fletcher books aren't humorous cozies. There are dark moments with detailed discussions of death scenes and bodies. That said, I like using intimate moments, family interactions, and humor to soften the darker parts of the books. As a reader, I hope that approach appeals to you. As I said in an earlier post, I'm just recording what Jill and Doug say to me.

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

I interview my character, Norah. How could she find a connection to the German Commandant? by Diane Scott Lewis

 

To purchase Outcast Artist in Bretagne, click HERE

It is fun to dig deeper into your characters. An interview to let them speak for themselves is always intriguing to write. Here they can talk directly, and answer uncomfortable questions if need be.

Interviewer. "I'm sitting here with Miss Norah Cooper in the small village of Saint Guenole in Brittany. Miss Cooper, you were trapped in France after the Germans invaded, visiting your cousin for personal reasons, and now you just want to go home to England. You're an artist and decided to draw the Major, the man in charge of the occupation. Why was that?"

"He offered me a great amount of money, and I needed to pay my way." Norah brushes a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair in quick strokes. "My cousin's husband threatened to demand I leave. I was eating their food. But I really had no place to go at the time."

"You didn't find this idea with the Major repulsive?"

"Yes, at first. But the Major surprised me." Norah smiles, looking a little embarrassed. "He was very kind, and then I learned a secret about him that really changed my mind."

"And what was that?"

"He hates Hitler's policies. Plus he brought more food to the village after I asked him to." Norah sighs. "He wanted the war to end and live a peaceful life."

"Then an attraction grew between you two?"

"Slowly." Norah gazes around. "When we got to know each other better. I never thought I'd find anyone who cared about me as much as he does. He felt the same after an arranged marriage. His wife died two years ago. And I had my...unfortunate experience."

"Weren't you afraid of being ostracized? Shunned by your family?"

"I am ostracized. The villagers, my cousins. My family in England doesn't yet know. It is very difficult. I went to live in the gardener's abandoned cottage." Norah leans close. "The Major, August, he told me a terrible weapon was on its way. And he planned to disable it so it wouldn't be used against my country."

"I see. Very commendable. Then you fell in love with him?"

Norah smiles again, though it's a little sad. "We fell in love. As crazy as that sounds. I discovered the man he really is, inside. We have a passionate relationship. But I knew it would be perilous."

"Do you have plans for a future?"

"He has to complete his sabotage. I got involved with forging documents to help escaping Jews. We kept secrets. But our love is strong." Norah presses her fingers to her cheeks. "We speak of escaping to Switzerland. But there are so many obstacles. Threats of arrest. Even a firing squad. I still hope we can have our happy ending. Or maybe I'm being naïve."

Interviewer. "I hope you can find a happy ending in the midst of war. Thank you for explaining your situation to me."


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

Holiday reading...by Sheila Claydon

Find my books here

I will be on holiday in Singapore when this is published and although it is a family visit, which I know will include more card and board games than I actually want but, as a good grandmother, I will play, my mind has already turned to holiday reading.

Some of the books I've most enjoyed I've discovered on holiday, not because I've chosen and taken them with me but because I've found them on the pre-loved shelf in a hotel or on a cruise ship, visited a secondhand bookshop in a newly discovered town or village, or, on one occasion, bought in a sale in a National Trust stately home. 

When I'm at home my book choices are mostly governed by conversations with friends, titles I've read about, what is on the suggestion table at the library or a book giftedly by someone. On holiday it is different. I go with the flow, open to anything that looks interesting, and over the years this has introduced me to authors I'd never heard of whose books have given me immense pleasure.  Whether such a laissez-faire attitude will be possible in Singapore I don't know, but I hope so. 

Often the books I write are set in places where I've been on vacation because my other holiday activity is taking in the atmosphere, the scenery and the people, learning about the culture and enjoying the food. So much so that the tagline on my website is a ticket to romance!

While nearly every one of my novels is linked to somewhere I have visited, the two that offer the reader the best means of holiday escape are Cabin Fever and Reluctant Date. I visited and enjoyed the places featured in the books so much that I just had to write about them. 

Cabin Fever takes the reader from London to New Zealand and then on a cruise to Australia and back again, while Reluctant Date is set on the North West coast of the UK and an idyllic Florida key, with a trip to the Swanee River thrown in. Sometimes I take these, and others, down from the shelf in my study and re-read them to remind myself of past times and why I had to write the story. I hope that while I am in Singapore I will be equally inspired...and maybe I'll find another of those serendipitous books as well.

Help! My Characters Lied. by Helen Henderson

Fire and Amulet
Helen Henderson
Click the title for purchase information

As a writer who tends to be more plotter than pantser, the relationship with my characters usually develops in a certain way. We meet and the characters tell me a little of their background and hopefully their goals. The one thing they don't always tell me up front is their name. But that is the subject of an earlier post. Then after some preliminary plotting, the characters are comfortable enough to trust me and they take over the telling their story and I am related to the position of scribe.

However, even after I pried their names out of them, the characters of Fire and Amulet fought me every inch of the story. 

When Fire and Amulet was released, I thought the fighting was over. The first sections of the sequel's journey were set in my mind and I had a cast of characters so the plotting part was done and it was time to become an explorer, following the trail that had been laid until the path ends. At that point the characters were supposed to take over and all I had to do was follow as they blazed a trail through the twisted jungle.

Then Brial and Karst said, "Stop the wagons. We are important too. Tell our story." I agreed and started the 2024 release, Fire and Redemption.

As to the title of this post? While Karst's background and his kin were uncovered in the first book, Brial's extended clan was not. But they need to appear in the new work ... and so the fight begins again. 

Several characters in the first book are Brial's kin (a fact they failed to mention earlier.) Now they need to be meshed into the rest of the clan. Blending the positions on the family tree and relationships between the village and trader branches means a battle between what had already been said and the unsaid. 

Even after the family tree is charted, there still needs to be calculations to make sure the ages work. A grandmother at twenty does not fit the culture. And a seventy-five-year-old mage would not be as spry and active as the story requires.

The information the characters told me in Fire and Amulet and what I recorded in the series bible is not necessarily true. Surprise, surprise, my characters lied. I'm off to check out the past and see how old Betrys, Keyne, and Feldt really are. Then its drawing Brial's family tree.

To purchase Fire and Amulet

~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 who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.

Where it all Began by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about Nancy's books please click on the cover above.

Laurel's Quest was originally published by a now defunct Canadian publishing house in  2010. It was re-published in 2014 by BWL Publishing Inc. updated as Laurel's Quest with a new cover and some new text. It is my first published novel and is very dear to my heart. Laurel's Quest is currently being offered for free (as an ebook) at Amazon.com and .ca. I am thrilled to offer readers the chance to step into the magical world that exists just a step sideways from the World as We Know It. A world filled with magic and wonder and a few scary moments as well. Cornish Piskies, selkies, Morgrawr the sea monster along with a cast of intrepid friends who follow the clues to solve a riddle that may save a life. The story starts in southern Alberta but soon moves to Cornwall UK. Set against the beautiful and rugged country of the southwest Laurel's search takes her along the Michael and Mary earth energy lines that cross the country from Carn les Boels, an old hill fort in Cornwall, to East Anglia. Laurel's journey takes her Glastonbury Tor not once but twice before she comes face to face with Gwyn ap Nudd beneath the Tor in the crystal caves where Arthur is rumoured to be sleeping. Laurel's Quest is the first book in the Cornwall Adventures, A Step Beyond is the second and here we pick up one of the secondary character's story. Gort is one of Laurel's gang of seekers and in the second books follows his own journey of coming of age. The third book is Go Gently where we finally meet Laurel's Gramma Bella whose letters figure in Laurel's Quest. We get to know Laurel's father Colt better in Go Gently and understand better why his estranged from his mother, Laurel's beloved Gramma Bella. 

I am currently working on Laurel's Choice which is a stand alone book, but you can be sure the usual suspects will show up. Gramma Bella, Vear Du the selkie, her group of friends from her quest and there might even be a wedding in the future...you just never know. Below is an excerpt from Laurel's Quest.

This is where Laurel's get the first clue from the 'Obby 'Orse in Padstow on May Day. If you want to learn more about this age old tradition just google it. It's fascinating stuff. 

From Chapter Six  The 'Obby 'Orse Clue  Laurel's Quest Copyright 2015

 

“How am I going to know where to look for the clue once we get to Padstow?” Laurel frowned.

“Did the Lady give any indication where you would find the clue?” Aisling asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Think harder,” Coll growled.

“I am.”

“What did she say again? I don’t remember exactly,” Gort broke in quietly.

“She just said I would get the first clue on May Day in Padstow. She talked about the filly that wasn’t born yet and holding death in my hand.”

“So do we have to find a pregnant mare somewhere in Padstow? That’ll be easy,” Coll snorted.

“Quit being so negative,” Aisling admonished Coll. “I don’t think we’ll have to look too far. I think the clue will find us.”

“So we just go to Padstow, join in the festival, and wait and see what happens?” Gort asked.

“I think that’s best.” Aisling nodded.

“What about what I think?” Laurel broke in.

Coll sighed. “What do you think we should do, then?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I should have a plan of some kind.” Her frustration was plain in her tone.

“Let’s just wait and see. Maybe we’ll come up with something before we get there,” Aisling said.

The bright, clear May Day morning found their small group looking for a parking spot in Padstow. The town was crowded with tourists and locals, all vying for the best place to see the festivities. Those who weren’t actively involved in the festivities jostled for space on the edges of the narrow streets. Soon the ‘Oss would start his journey. Laurel was no closer to figuring out how to find the clue than she had been the night they talked about it in Emily’s parlor. She just hoped with all her heart she would recognize the clue when it was in front of her.

Sarie’s friend emerged through her back gate just as they parked in the tiny spot behind her cottage. Aisling greeted her Aunt Jane and introduced Laurel. The woman led them down a narrow back alley to emerge onto the main thoroughfare. The voice of the crowd swelled to a new level as the ‘Obby ‘Oss began to make his way through the narrow street. The girls craned their necks trying to catch their first glimpse of the ‘Obby ‘Oss in his bizarre costume.

The crowd hemmed them in. Sarie held tight to Laurel’s hand as the crowd vibrated with excitement as the ‘Obby ‘Oss drew near. She lifted herself up on her tiptoes as high as she could in order to catch a glimpse of the alien-looking creature with its large hoop depicting the head of a horse, and a scraggy tail hanging from the rear of it.

The traditional song rang high and loud as thousands of voices joined in celebration:

“Unite and Unite. Let us all unite. For summer is a cummin today, and wither we are going, we will all unite, in the merry morning of May.”

Periodically the ‘Obby ‘Oss lunged into the crowd and captured a young woman, prompting good-natured jesting and howls of laughter. At intervals the ‘Obby ‘Oss would falter, stagger and fall to the street where he lay motionless for a moment, when this happened the joyous song changed to a sad dirge. As soon as the ‘Obby ‘Oss rose and danced again, the song spun back to its joyous celebration. Laurel didn’t know where to look first; this was all so different than anything she ever experienced. Even Stampede in Calgary wasn’t this crazy. The song filled the air and rose from the stones of the street under her feet. It vibrated in her bones and eardrums.

There was a sudden break in the crowd; the ‘Obby ‘Oss was right in front of them. She watched entranced, as the ‘Oss made an exaggerated grab for Sarie, who waved him off, laughing. The strange hooped face of the creature paused, his painted eyes looked straight at her and the sound of the celebrations faded. It seemed only Laurel and the strange beast existed in a world somehow one step sideways from the world she knew. She couldn’t even feel Sarie’s hand on hers, and the words of the song, though faint still echoed in her ears.

The ‘Obby ‘Oss regarded her for a long minute before a voice echoed in her head. It was both soft and deep, young and old, gentle and intimidating, all at once and yet none of them at all. A part of her was afraid, but another part was braver than she would ever have imagined and allowed her to listen to the message.

 “Greetings, child who searches for answers. On this May Day, the ‘Obby ‘Oss grants you a boon. Neither husband nor child will I give you, but the answer to part of the mystery you seek to achieve your heart’s desire.”

Laurel started as the voice took on a deeper tone; she could hear the ringing of great brass bells underlying it as if they rung from the depths of the ocean.

“Find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians. You must remember…to gain entrance, you and your companions must be found worthy, and so I tell you that it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman for the Selkie guardian to admit you.”

“Thank you,” Laurel whispered.

Suddenly, the world came back into focus. Although Laurel felt like a lot of time had passed, it seemed only a tiny second elapsed to all those around her. Sarie was still waving the ‘Obby ‘Oss away and giggling like a girl.

“Go on with you, I’m too old, and she’s too young.”

The ‘Obby ‘Oss shook his hooped head at Sarie and bowed before he continued on his way. The May Song rose high and strong over the throng and slowed to the awful dirge as the ‘Oss stumbled and fell once more.

“Why does he do that?”

Sarie smiled. “Don’t let it bother you, girl. It symbolizes the death of winter and the birth of the spring. If winter doesn’t come, the summer never ends, and there can be no spring. It also mirrors mankind’s cycle of life: we are born, we die, but we live on in our children and our children’s children.”

 Laurel doubted if her mom was comforted by the thought of her daughter going on without her.

“Come on you lot, let’s go find some market stalls and some goodies to stuff your gobs with,” Sarie invited.

They shouted their agreement. The ‘Obby ‘Oss leaped to his feet again and cavorted down the street out of sight, though his song continued to echo in the air.

As the group made their way to the market stalls, Coll dropped back. “What happened back there? You looked all mazed for a minute, like you could see something the rest of us couldn’t.”

“The ‘Obby ‘Oss spoke to me,” she said.

“It never,” Coll exclaimed. “It’s not supposed to speak to anyone.”

“I don’t think it was the man inside the costume who talked to me. It sounded deep, like it was inside my head, but faraway at the same time. It was spooky.”

“Bloody Hell,” Coll exclaimed loudly.

“You mind your tongue, young man!” Sarie said over her shoulder. “You’ll have your Gramma down my throat for allowing you to behave like a ruffian.”  Jane and Emily laughed at her words.

“Sorry, Sarie,” Coll said, and then spoke in a quieter voice. “What did it say? Why couldn’t the rest of us hear it?”

“I don’t know why you couldn’t. I wish you were all there with me. It was creepy,”

“What do you mean there with you; you didn’t go anywhere. I was still hanging on to you and so was Sarie.” Coll looked confused.

“It was weird,” she paused, trying to find a way to describe it, “as if I took a step sideways or something. Like I was apart from everything somehow. All the noise faded, I couldn’t feel you or Sarie. All I could see was the painted face of the ‘Obby ‘Oss and hear that voice. But I could still hear the May Song faintly, all I could make out was unite, unite. It was freaking weird.”

“What did it say?” Coll asked impatiently. “Who would have guessed the ’Obby ‘Oss would talk to you!”

“Weird stuff, all in riddles. You know those stories your Gramma and Sarie tell at night in front of the fire where the faeries or piskies or whatever give the person the information they need, but they never tell it right out. The people in the story have to figure it out for themselves if they want to finish their quest or get out of the faery hill, or whatever.”

Coll danced a jig of delight on the cobbled street. “This is great, isn’t it just? We get to go questing like King Arthur’s knights. Gort’s going to be beside himself.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy, or making it up?”

“Naw, I believe you. We knew you were going to get a message here. You even had that faery struck look on your face for a moment when the ‘Oss stopped in front of you. You know, the one Sarie always makes as she describes how the person in the story would look.” Coll stopped talking long enough to make sure Sarie and the others weren’t too far ahead. “What did the bloody thing say,” he asked plaintively.

Laurel giggled at his tone. “Something about lizard tails and paths.” She trailed off and her eyes unfocused for a second. “In order to find the answer to my heart’s desire, I have to find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians.” She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea what it means.”

“Anything else?” Coll vibrated with excitement.

“There was something about gaining entrance to the secret caverns. Me and my companions have to be acceptable, I think he said ‘worthy,’ so the Selkie guardian will admit us. What the heck is a Selkie?” she asked crossly. “How am I supposed to figure this out when I don’t even know what the stupid things are?”

“That’s why you have companions. A Selkie is some magic kind of seal man.” Coll grinned. “Do you remember anything else?”

Laurel pushed aside her resentment and frustration at the riddles to try to remember the last piece of the riddle.

“He said it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman to gain entrance.” She kicked at piece of litter. “I haven’t the slightest idea what that means either.”

Coll grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd. They could just see the top of Sarie’s head in front of them.

“Hurry up, we don’t want to get lost,” Coll said over his shoulder and then in a louder voice, “Sarie, Gramma, wait for us!”

Panting slightly, they caught up with their group just at the edge of the market stalls. Aisling and Gort looked at them questioningly; Coll winked at them.

“Just wait ‘til you hear the story we have to tell you later when we’re by ownselves.” Coll grinned at Gort. “You’re going to either love this, or think we’re bleedin’ kitey.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything illegal.” Gort muttered. 

The Characters in the Stories by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #writing #characters

 Once the Idea is in order and the Plot is decided upon, the characters must be found for your stories. There are a number of ways characters have ventured into my stories. The oddest one happened about a month ago. As I was falling asleep, a voice spoke in my head. "Hi. I'm Valentina Heartly. With a name like that I should write a romance novel." I haven't found a story for her as yet but the ideas are slowly forming.

Often when developing characters, I use Astrology. Now I don't cast their entire charts but I look at the Sun sign, the Moon sign and the Rising sign and combine these to make a person come to life. Then I use one of the many baby name books to find the right name.

Sometimes the characters are well established and are part of a series. At present I'm working on Murder and Iced tea staring Katherine Miller, now married. Along with Robespierre, he Maine Coon cat, I know her almost as well as I know myself. This time I am using many of the characters from the other stories in the series. There are also new ones. There's the Mayor, his wife, his two children and his "yes" man.

I once found a character in a research book on Egypt from a single sentence. "Mermeshu was his name." Amazingly he took form and set forth on a time travel story.

How do you find and name your characters? Sometimes, for me, this takes the msot time but I love Plots and they come fairly easy.

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Home is where you make it, by J.C. Kavanagh

A Bright Darkness, Book 3
of the award-winning Twisted Climb series
https://www.bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/

 

Summer is in full swing now and most people are planning vacation or in the middle of one. Not so for me and my partner, Ian. We are in the middle of packing house and we have just over two weeks to complete this arduous task. The Buyers wanted a quick closing and we agreed, believing that we would find a home within their requested time frame. But it was not to be. My 91-year-old mom's terminal cancer diagnosis put our house-hunting plans on hold. I stay with her a few days a week, rotating days with family. God bless her. Cancer is beyond horrible. All positive thoughts and prayers are most welcome for my mom, Miriam. She's a feisty Irish lady, maintaining her quirky sense of humour despite the constant pain. 

Mom, circa 1957.

Mom 'driving' for the first time in 70 years.

So, rather than purchasing a home 'just because,' we decided to purchase a couple of sea containers (not to live in, haha). The contents of our home are being packed into these containers as I speak/write. Ian's sister has graciously offered storage on her beautiful property. The upside to this is that we recently purchased a live-aboard sailboat. Named THE Escape Route, she's a 43' Beneteau that will become our on-the-water home until we find our on-the-land home. 

Our on-the-water home, THE Escape Route

On a happier note, Book 1 of my trilogy, The Twisted Climb, is available in audio format! If you're travelling long distance, it's a great way to have the whole family fall in love/hate with Jayden and experience the incredible adventures she, Connor and Max face in the dream world. Books 2 and 3, Darkness Descends and A Bright Darkness, will keep you captivated as they experience more trials in their journey to the Un-World.

Enjoy your summer and make sure you tell those you love that you love them!

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

Coming in August from BWL Publishing Inc.

 check these August releases out at https://bookswelove.net  

  

The Witching Hour

 

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In researching our upcoming book, Spectral Evidence, my co-author Jude Pittman and I are coming face-to-face with a subject that has fascinated me since I twice appeared in theater productions of Arthur Miller's play, The Crucible-- the Salem Witch Trials.

How does the infamous American tragedy connect to a mystery set in Newfoundland of the same 1692 period? Well, the waterways..be they ocean, lake, river, or coastal were the highways of commerce then. Did you know there was a healthy trading network between the cod fisheries of Newfoundland and their American cousins in New England? Our story is of literal cousins, whose connected merchant families are from St. John's, Newfoundland, and Salem, Massachusetts.

Today's Salem is seeped in history.  It's now a small, thriving town that has survived the infamy of its early history of puritan-on-puritan violence, pirates, whalers, murders, a great fire and several Hollywood invasions to become a destinations of thousands of tourists during the month of October. As if making amends for the intolerance of its earlier residents, Salem is also a welcoming home for all, including modern witches, historians, artists, writers, and the LGBTQ+ community.

Spending a witching hour in Salem might mean feeling the darkness gather about you as you tour one of the Witch trial judge's home, of feel a tug as your shawl from the ghost of Dorcas, the youngest of the accused, a 4 year old imprisoned girl said to be still searching for her hanged mother. 

The Witch House, home of Judge Corwin,
where the accused were questioned

Visit the world-class Peabody Essex Museum to hear haunting melodies as you sit under beautifully carved sailing ships' mastheads, and the home that inspired Nathaniel Hawthorne to write The House of the Seven Gables.  There are two (count 'em) pirate museums!

 

The Real Pirate Museum, where I learned what "Matelot" is

There's even a tribute to actress Elizabeth Montgomery, who endeared herself to locals when she filmed the seventh season of her TV sitcom "Bewitched" in Salem.

(Almost) everybody loves the "Bewitched" bronze sculpture!

Yes, research is a rewarding part of this writer's life.  I hope you'll enjoy the fruits of our labor when Spectral Evidence is published next year!

Brontë Land

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In May my husband Will and I spent a delightful day in Haworth, West Yorkshire, UK. We visited the home of the famous Brontë writing family, followed in the footsteps of siblings Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne, and enjoyed lunch and snacks in cafés with views of the picturesque dales.

Curators of the Brontë Parsonage Museum say the village of Haworth and the surrounding countryside would be recognized by the Brontës today. We took the train and bus from Leeds and walked up the steep high street to the centre of Haworth village. 

Our first stop was the Brontë Parsonage Museum, which is full of artifacts and descriptions of the family's history and the sisters' writing. As children, the girls and their brother Branwell loved making up stories for his toy soldiers and creating imaginary worlds and adventures for their characters. Charlotte named her favourite soldier after the Duke of Wellington, who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815, the year before Charlotte's birth. The siblings would walk around the dining table developing their tales, which speaks well for the value of writing groups and walking as stimulation. As they grew older, they acquired portable writing desks so they could write in different parts of the house. 

                                           Emily's portable writing desk                                                  

The family history was a sad one. Maria Branwell Brontë died the year after her youngest child, Anne, was born. Four years later her two oldest daughters died, probably of tuberculosis contracted at boarding school. Her son Branwell became a painter and struggled with addiction. He died at age thirty-one. Emily died three months later, at age thirty, and Anne died the following year, age twenty-nine. Charlotte married her father's curate and lived to age thirty-eight, when she died of complications from pregnancy. Her husband remained in the house with her father, Patrick, who died at age eighty-four, having survived his wife and six children. All except Anne are buried in the neighbouring church, where Patrick served as rector for forty-one years. Anne died while recuperating from tuberculosis in coastal Scarborough. Charlotte had her buried there to spare her father yet another funeral. 

                              Brontë burial site in St Michael and All Angel's Church, Haworth 

After the museum, we boosted our mood with lunch on a café patio overlooking the Yorkshire dales. Then we walked up to the moor behind the Brontë home and followed a favourite path of the siblings. We didn't mind that it wasn't Brontë-esque rainy, windy, and cold. Actually, one museum display featured an academic's chart that shows sunshine appears in more Brontë novel scenes than readers tend to remember. 

Then it was time for an afternoon snack in another café's garden. 

The Brontë Parsonage Museum hosts talks, children's programs, and other events through the year. I wish I lived in Leeds so I could attend events like Women of the Wild, which will be held this September. I have a slight personal connection to Haworth. My aunt's family came from the village and my aunt inherited Charlotte's umbrella, which she later donated to the museum. Unfortunately for us, the museum keeps it in storage along with other personal items and clothing, which they only bring out for special exhibits. But my aunt would be glad to know the umbrella was home in lovely Haworth. 

 

                Haworth village viewed from the moor. My hair suggests the day was a tad windy.   

   

        

       

And The Search Continues 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

            Last week a friend stopped by and brought me some carrot cookies. She made them because I am known for disliking vegetables. I can eat some of them raw but almost none that are cooked. Of course, corn, potatoes and onions don’t count. The cookies were okay, but I didn’t ask for the recipe. However, I decided to make cookies for her using an unusual ingredient---in this case, vinegar. Vinegar cookies are about my favorite, right up there with molasses cookies, both recipes passed down from my grandmother. I did, however, get to thinking about when and where this recipe originated so while they baked, I headed for that fount of all knowledge, Google. The first thing that came up was a recipe and information about Resurrection Cookies. They contain one teaspoon of vinegar representing the vinegar given to Jesus to quench his thirst while on the cross. Not what I wanted; I plowed on and stumbled on this: “Vinegar has played an important but little-emphasized role as a food adjunct in man's development of his civilization.” Apparently the Babylonians were known to use it. 

Here’s something else I learned: “Vinegar and water has been a refreshing drink from the time of Roman soldiers to modern athletes who drink it to slake their thirst.” Hmmm. I thought the athletes’ drink of choice was Gatorade.

Soldiering on and dropping down the Google page I came across Vinegar Pie. Aka Desperation Pie. It seems in the 19^th century, when some ingredients for flavorings were hard to come by, cooks used vinegar and made pies similar to Chess pie.

In the Polish Housewife’s cook book I found Grandma’s Vinegar rolls with a caveat that the family’s heritage is German.

Google was getting me nowhere, so I hopped over to Yahoo. There I found winkfrozendeserts.com which told me that: "Recipe Size: The amount of vinegar needed [in chocolate chip cookies] may vary depending on the recipe size. As a general rule, for every cup of flour used, you can add 1 to 2 teaspoons of vinegar." Chocolate chippers are considered to be the King of Cookies, but who knew they needed vinegar? Well, according to Lillian, writer for thetakeout, they do. As she spent most of 2020 mastering various recipes, the cookie seemed to taunt her saying, “You want me.” So she uncled under and began the search for the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. I found her search and recipe on duckduckgo.”  In total,” she said, “I made 20 batches of 20 cookies, or 400 cookies. “And 400 cookies later, I found exactly what I was looking for: a recipe that I can follow to the letter to produce perfect chocolate chip cookies time and time again.” Eleven ingredients of which, forth from the bottom is one teaspoon of apple cider vinegar. Sadly, for those of us who are metric challenged, the amounts require conversion.

However, back to my vinegar cookies. I thought sure the recipe would be in my grandmother’s copy of the Wartime Edition of the American Woman’s Cook Book with “Victory Substitutes and Economical Recipes for Delicious Wartime Meals,” but it wasn’t. I did learn that when entertaining in a maid-less household, “The hostess will find great convenience in the tea-wagon,” and how to measure my table cloths for “the placement of the monogram.”

Vital knowledge for the contemporary homemaker.

And so my search continues.