The Writing Game, by J.C. Kavanagh

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

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

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

Then - write.

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

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

My resulting story:

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

***
Craaack!

A Kavanagh-clan castle, circa 1100 AD.

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

Have a wonderful and peaceful Easter weekend!

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

Lost Continents

  

An Early Map of Atlantis

Most people are familiar with Atlantis, the sunken continent, first written about by Plato. Supposedly situated in the Mediterranean Sea and inhabited by a war-like people, they embarked on  a naval siege of ancient Athens. Due to its superior political system, ancient Athens, Plato’s “ideal state,” was able to repel the invasion. The Gods, angered by the hubris of the Atlanteans, withdrew their favor and Atlantis submerged into the sea. While Plato’s story centered around an ideal political system and the arrogance of nations and their eventual demise, the mythical aspects of the lost continent caught the public’s imagination, and many attempts were made to locate this place. Fascination continues to this day, with a continuing cottage industry of books, films and comic books based on this legend.

Lost continents and civilizations have a long history, with stories and legends appearing in many cultures and places. Often, these catch the imagination of a people because they combine myth with national identity. One of these is Kumari Kandam, a lost continent supposedly drowned in the Indian Ocean, and the original home of the Tamil people of South India and named after the Hindu goddess Kanya Kumari. While belief in Kumari Kandam was a long history, it became more prominent in the twentieth century, as part of a popular revival of Tamil culture, which coincided with the ending of colonial rule in India. Supposedly ruled entirely by women who chose their husbands and enjoyed full property rights, it is said to be the origin of Tamil ‘Sangams’, or literary traditions, and seen as an ideal ancient civilization, excelling in all arts and sciences and the cradle of Tamil culture.

La Morte D'Arthur by James Archer (1860)

A similar idea forms the basis of Avalon, a lost island west of England. Featured in the tales of King Arthur, it appeared first in the Historia Regum Britanniae, Lord Geoffrey Monmouth’s account of early British history. He mentioned it as the place where King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur, was forged. This mythical island was seen as a type of paradise, where fruits and flowers grew profusely, and ideal human behavior was exhibited. For a long time, it was believed that Avalon was the home of model and original English culture, no doubt inspired by the ideals of chivalry, courage, romance and gallantry displayed by King Arthur and his court, including his ideal wife Guinevere and the knight Lancelot. Inspiring the imagination to this day, Camelot, the name of the King’s court, and Merlin, the court magician, remain popular literary prototypes.

The Island of Thule (surrounded by whales)

Further to the north lies Thule, an island variously located near Shetland or Norway. Appropriately, it is a land of eternal sunshine. First appearing in Greek epics, it supposedly exists in the frozen seas well north of Britain. Inhabited by blue-painted people who are expert warriors, it grows barley in the summer and provides honey, from which the inhabitants make mead, an intoxicating liquor, evidently, a gift from the gods.

Maui holds up the Sky 

On the other side of the globe, in the Pacific, lies the island of Hawai’iki (not to be confused with Hawai’i,) the legendary home of the Maori people. Its actual location has never been confirmed, as appropriately enough, it is seen as a physical as well as a spiritual place. Greatly important to the Maoris, it is the subject of many of their songs, stories and cultural lessons. As an indication of its significance, many Maoris trace their genealogies, from the original man and woman to the current generation, to that island. It is also the home of the Polynesian gods, including the trickster demigod Maui, famous throughout the Pacific, and a character in the Disney movie, Moana. Its central importance to Maori culture can be appreciated by the understanding that it is the place from which every person (soul) comes, and where each returns.

Finally, the lost continent of Lemuria actually has a quasi-scientific background.  When the zoologist Phillip Sclater, in 1864, noticed similarities between mammals and fossils in both Madagascar and India, he proposed a continent, now disappeared, which once connected the two lands. He named it Lemuria, after the small monkey-like mammals found in both countries.  Strangely enough, there seems to be concrete evidence for this theory. Plate tectonics, which describe the drift of continents, posits that Africa and India were, at one point, part of a super continent named Gondwana. Furthermore, in 1999, drilling by a research vessel in the Indian Ocean discovered evidence of a large island which was submerged about 20 million years ago by rising sea levels. In 2015, researchers from South Africa, studying the island of Mauritius, came across geological formations that strongly suggest that the island is the above-ocean part of a much-larger, now-sunken, land mass. Culturally, the famous theosophist and mystic Helena Blavatsky of the late eighteenth century, considered to be the mother of modern spirituality, provided Lemuria with a mythical history as the home of an ancient, highly-evolved people, after which it became popularized in the public’s imagination.

Mohan Ashtakala is the author of The Yoga Zapper (www.yogazapper.com) published by Books We Love (www.bookswelove.net)

Serendipity is a Book Club...by Sheila Claydon

Mending Jodie's Heart, Book 1 of my When Paths Meet trilogy, has just been chosen for next month's read by a local book club. It goes without saying that I am beyond excited. I'd like plaudits of course but even if I don't get them, just knowing a group of people are going to read it and discuss it is enough.

How did this happen?

Well Mending Jodie's Heart is a story woven around the countryside and the village where I live. This is unusual for me because the ideas for most of my books are triggered by other places. Maybe getting away from the humdrum of everyday life gives my imagination the freedom it needs to create. This wasn't the case with Jodie however. She didn't need creating. She arrived fully formed in my mind the way the best characters always do, and so did Marcus, the hero, and the other important characters in the book.

Why?

I know it started when I spent an evening listening to a jazz band with a fantastic pianist but how that segued into Jodie's story I have no idea. Maybe it was the closure of a local bridle path and the ensuing campaign to get it re-opened. Maybe it was the demolition of an old farmhouse. Maybe it was the sight of a pretty, dark-haired girl on horseback. I'll never know exactly what started the story, and what made me continue it into Books 2 and 3. What I do know, however, is that to write it I had to 'borrow' the old farmhouse and the new house that replaced it, the same as I had to 'borrow' the bridle path, and the local riding stables.

Once the book was published I moved on, as writers do, except that I always thought of the 'borrowed' house as Jodie's house whenever I walked past it. Then Books We Love decided to make its digital books available as paperbacks and that changed things. As soon as I received a print copy of Mending Jodie's Heart I crossed my fingers and wrote to the owners of the 'borrowed' house explaining what I had done, and offering them a copy.

I posted the note into their mailbox  when I took my dog for a walk, and then turned into the adjoining woodland and set off down a narrow path between the trees...too narrow for dog walkers to pass one another without giving way. And this is where it gets weird but in a good way. I was halfway along the path when  I saw a pretty blonde woman walking towards me with her dog...a dog I recognised as belonging to Jodie's house, even though I had never seen the owner. With no option but to stop I introduced myself and told her about the letter I had posted. After all if she did decide she wanted a copy of my book I was going to meet her anyway.

How was I to know that she was an avid reader who has run a book club for the past ten years? How was I to know that she would be thrilled beyond belief that I had written a story around the building of her home, and how was I to know that she would be unbelievably friendly and interested. She even joked that she was going to see how her husband scored in comparison with the hero.

So there you have it. I, in true writerly fashion, nosey around other people's lives watching their house being built, and my eventual reward is a new friend and a book in her book club. And what of the happy coincidence that took us down the same path on that windy morning when we had spent the previous 5 years never setting eyes on one another. Serendipity is a curious thing that might just be prompting me towards another book...the second of my Mapleby Memories, but that's another story!

And there's still another copy of Mending Jodie's Heart to give out...to the Riding School that let me watch the stable girls take their horses through their paces, so maybe some more friends too.