Us or our better selves? by Sheila Claydon

Do you ever read a book and become irritated with one of the characters? I know I do. For example I might read about how a woman deals with her husband's affair, her mother's dementia, her child's tantrums, and think why on earth did she react like that?  I might find her weak or vain, unimaginative or cruel, unfeeling or a whole host of other things, while another reader might identify with and approve of her actions and really enjoy the book.

None of this is very surprising because we all have different tastes and attitudes, but what I find fascinating is how a character in a book can generate real feelings of dislike and irritation, and I'm not talking about the anti-hero here. We are meant to be upset by him or her. No I'm talking about the main characters, the people who are pivotal to the story.

Some writers put a lot of thought into the development of their characters. With others it is more instinctive. Whichever method is used however, the writer is still responsible for their behaviour,  and this is where life and fiction overlap.

Can a writer ever make the main characters do things they disapprove of? Will they let them behave in a way that is contrary to their own moral code? Are their heroes and heroines truly separate entities or are they who the writer is, or who she/he wants to be? And do I sometimes find a character irritating because their take on a problem isn't mine? It happens in real life, so why not in fiction? From time to time we all disagree with our friends and family,  and we disagree even more vociferously with the behaviour of celebrities and politicians as reported in the Media, so when I dislike a character am I actually disliking the author's own views?

When I write is my heroine reacting as I would in such a situation, or is she behaving how I would like to behave but know I could never manage?

To better answer myself I've been revisiting the characters in some of my books and discovered that my heroines are hardworking, ambitious and feisty, and never ever prepared to accept second best. Are they me dressed in camouflage? I wish!! The truth is, they are my better self. They are the people I would like to be, and maybe that's fine. Better to recognise that than to never think about it at all.

In Mending Jodie's Heart: Book 1 of my When Paths Meet trilogy, Jodie is pint sized, braver than almost anyone I've ever met, and has a heart that puts everyone else first. She is the heroine I most admire. I'm proud of Jodie. She is who I would like to be.

Extract from Mending Jodie's Heart

The tall man in the wool beanie was leaning on the top bar of the gate on the third morning Jodie rode by.  He was gazing into the straggle of woodland while a very old black Labrador sat patiently beside him. The man in the yellow fluorescent jacket, the man who had secured the padlock in the first place, was just getting into a van that was idling at the curb. With a twitch of the reins she pulled Buckmaster to a halt as he drove away.

“What did he tell you?” she demanded.

The man in the beanie hat swung around and stared up at her, a look of puzzlement on his face.  He had very blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Did he say how long it would be before they start building?  Did he say how long it will be before Mr. Marcus…I can do exactly as I like because I have a lot of money and this is my land…Lewis, turns up? No he didn’t, did he? I can see from the look on your face that you’ve no idea what’s going on. I bet he didn’t even tell you when they’re going to start cutting down the trees.”

Without giving him time to answer, she slid down from Buckmaster’s back and walked across to the gate to stand beside him. Her head barely reached his shoulder. Together they surveyed the tangle of undergrowth, and then Jodie turned towards him, her body taut with impatience.

“Didn’t he tell you anything?”

“Not about the bridleway, no,” Marcus Lewis shook his head.  He was torn between irritation, amusement, and just a little admiration. She was certainly passionate about her damned bridleway that was for sure. Courageous too. He could still remember what she had said about chaining herself to the gatepost. 

“Why is this bridleway so important anyway?” he asked. “There must be others.”

“There are,” she conceded, looking up at him. “But we have to negotiate a lot of traffic to get to them.  This is the only one that takes us straight down to the beach.”

“We?”

“The children who use my riding school.”

 “You work in a riding school?”

She nodded dispiritedly.  “For what it’s worth I’m the manager, so I’ve a vested interest in keeping my riders safe.”

His gaze slid over her.  It didn’t compute.  She wasn’t much more than a teenager.  As if she knew what he was thinking she suddenly grinned at him. It totally transformed her face, changing her expression from angry to something altogether different.  He found himself responding with a smile of his own as he wondered if the hair hidden under her riding hat was as dark as her eyes.

“I’m older than I look,” she told him as she took hold of the horse’s saddle and vaulted onto its back.  “Way, way older. Plenty old enough to give Marcus Lewis a piece of my mind when he eventually turns up.  In the meantime, I’m going to start gathering protest signatures.”

“I thought you said you were going to chain yourself to the gate,” he said, squinting up at her against the early morning sun.

She laughed as she began to move away, pleased he had remembered.  “Don’t worry. I’ll be doing that too, but not until the journalists arrive. I want to inflict maximum damage to his reputation.”

For more of Sheila's books go to:

http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/claydon-sheila-romance/

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If I Could Go Back in Time by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

If I could go back in time, where would I go? I was born and raised in Canada where our non-native history goes back almost 400 years if you look at what is now the province of Quebec or 1000 years if you count the Vikings having a settlement in what is now the province of Newfoundland.

In 2017, I travelled across Canada to the site of the Viking settlement at L’Anse Aux Meadows on the tip of Newfoundland’s Great North Peninsula. There I toured through the encampment which consisted of replicas of the timber and sod buildings constructed by the Vikings who had sailed from Greenland. I talked with the costumed interpreters who were sitting around a fire inside one of the buildings cooking their meal. It felt surreal to be there, to know that my ancestors (I have recently found out that I have Viking heritage) lived there for a few years. This is the first known evidence of European settlement in the Americas. From the camp, I walked along the rugged cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and crossed a large bog on a boardwalk. Then I toured the museum, looking at the fascinating artifacts that were found during the excavation. The site was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1978.

 

This year I spent 66 days in Europe and one of the places I visited was the Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, just outside Copenhagen, Denmark. In the museum is a permanent exhibition of parts of five original Viking ships excavated nearby in 1962. A thousand years ago these ships were deliberately scuttled (filled with rocks and sunk) in a river to stop the enemy from invading the city by water. Over the decades since they were found, the pieces have been preserved and put together on a metal frame to show how the ships would have looked. Also at the site are replicas of the Viking ships and I became a Viking for an hour. A group of us sat on the seats and rowed the ship out of the harbour using the long oars. Once on the open water we hoisted the mast and set sail. After sailing for a while we headed back to the harbour. As we neared it I had the honour of pulling on the rope that lowered the mast and sail and we glided back to our dock.

 

So if I could go back in time I would like to be a Viking Shield-Maiden. Women of the time were not called Vikings because they normally did not take part in warfare. They were called Norsewomen. However, women fought in a battle in 971AD and Freydis Eiriksdottir, Leif Erikson’s half-sister is said to have grabbed a sword, and, bare-breasted, helped scare away an attacking army. These women were called Shield-Maidens.

http://bookswelove.net/authors/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

 

Paul McCartney's Home

For more information about Susan Calder's books, or to purchase visit her Books We Love Author Page. 

A highlight of my spring trip to Liverpool, England, was a tour of Paul McCartney's home, where he spent his teenage years. The address is on the public record and there are always people outside taking pictures, but the only way to see inside is to take a tour conducted by Britain's National Trust.

The van drove us to the pleasant street in suburban Allerton. When the McCartneys moved here in 1955, these were rental council houses. Now they are owned by the residents, who must sometimes resent the influx of fans. On the other hand, it would be cool to live down the road from the former home of a Beatle, who visits the place on occasion.

The street where Paul lived

The home's curator met us in the front yard. For the next hour, she walked us through the house and shared anecdotes. She told us that only one family lived here after the McCartneys, which made it easier to renovate the home back to its state during Paul's time. The new residents had replaced the front windows, but The National Trust noticed that an identical house on the street had the original windows. They offered a trade, and the neighbours agreed to the free upgrade and installation.

Paul's house with the original-style front window

Few of the original McCartney furnishings remain in the house. Paul has the piano in one of his homes, but the curator found a replica. Part of her job is to furnish the place based on the information available, such as old photographs and recollections of people who were there. Paul's brother Mike is one of her best sources. Both brothers have homes across the Mersey from Liverpool and Mike often visits the house. Recently he unearthed photographs he took of Paul, John and George during their youths. These are now displayed in the living room. Paul also takes an active interest in the house, but Paul has many homes, the curator said, and is less available.

This portrait of Paul and Mike with their mother hangs on one of the walls 

Paul's mother died a year after the family moved in. Yet Paul said he recalls his time in the house as mostly happy. This is a testament to Paul's sunny nature, but his mother's death touched him deeply.  After she died, Paul moved from the large bedroom he shared with Mike to the small room at the front of the house because needed alone time. The curator added that when John Lennon's mother was killed in a bus accident a few years later it cemented a bond between the two teenage musicians. Their shared sadness enhanced the chemistry that enabled them to write so many songs that touched the world.

Photos aren't permitted in the house, but someone snuck this shot of Paul's small bedroom and posted it on the Internet. 

We topped up our visit to Liverpool with a Hop-on-Hop-off bus ride that took us past Ringo's street, the art college that Paul, George and John attended and other Beatles sites. We stopped at Penny Lane for a photo op. The guide told us that that the real setting for that song was down the street at Smithdown Place. We rode past the barbershop and roundabout like teenage Paul did daily on his way to and from school. Presumably Paul felt the name Smithdown Place had a less melodic ring than Penny Lane.

Our tour of Beatles sites finished with the Cavern Club, a recreated venue of the place where the band made its breakthrough. A singer/guitarist, who wasn't born at that time, entertained the packed room with Beatles songs. It was both nostalgic and currently happening. This July Paul McCartney made a surprise appearance at the Cavern to promote his new album release. He played for two hours to an audience of 350, who must have felt themselves the luckiest people in the world.

The Cavern today

George, Paul & John at the original Cavern Club