Where's the Fun? by Karla Stover

 

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Every time I get a list of new books coming out, I look for something humorous. Today's fiction included something going on in a corrupt California town, federal agents being killed, a poem from

 Biden's 

inauguration, a dust storm and murder in a marsh. Non-fiction had portraits of immigrants, a woman who lost her mother to cancer, Matthew McConaughey's diaries, the state of the Republican party and caste systems. We live in the best, most generous country in the world and seem to love to wallow in misery. 

I just learned, today, that Patrick McManus died. McManus was a Pacific northwest native who wrote humor columns for hunting and fishing magazines, novels featuring a woodsman named Rancid Crabtree and one-man comedy plays. Ordinarily I wouldn't read a book about hunting and fishing but his are just so much fun. 

I really enjoyed the first three Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich but the author is up to number 26 and the same things happen in each book. However, I just read that in November 2019, when Twisted Twenty-Six came out, it opened at number 1 on the New York Times bestseller list of combined print and eBooks. You can't argue with the success of her books but you don't have to read them, either.

I really liked Jay Len's autobiography, Leading With my Chin and Tim Conway's What's So Funny: My Hilarious Life but not a lot of others memoirs by comedians.

When the pandemic first hit and Washington State was shutdown, I started buying used books off the internet. And what I bought were published ages back, some of which were made into movies, and all of them non-fiction. Our Hearts Were Young and Gay published in 1942, spent five weeks in 1943 on the New York Times non-fiction best sellers list. It was made into a movie, a play, and was used as a codebook in World War II by German intelligence. Sometimes The Egg and I is referred to as fiction and at other times as non-fiction. It came out in 1945 and quickly hit the best sellers list. It's fallen into some into disrepute because the author didn't care for her native American neighbors and poked fun at them and some of her other neighbors. The Bishop family (Ma and Pa Kettle in the book) and a few others sued her but lost. The movie was only so-so. Cheaper by the Dozen was published in 1948 and in 1950 won the French International Humor Award. It was also made into a not-so-good movie. Hollywood seems to think it can do a better job than the authors did. Although, having said that, the movie ending of The Silence of the Lambs was much better than the book's ending.

Recently, I looked up funny books from the 1930s, 40s and 50s. I liked Cold Comfort Farm but not the Jeeves books by P.G. Wodehouse (1930s). I never read Pippi Longstocking (1940s) but I remember the Gilmore girls loved it. I think I saw the movie, Please Don 't Eat the Daisies but have no memory of the book (1950s). However, Barbara Pym's book Excellent Women (1950s) is described as "rich and amusing." So, maybe it's worth a try. 

For those who remember them, Jean Shepherd, Peg Bracken and Erma Bombeck were well received in the 1960s. However, if I had to recommend a more contemporary book that is a joy  to read, it would be The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific, no cannibals, no sex just a funny memoir. And, since few of us are flying these days, arm chair travel may be the next best thing. Maybe I'm a snob but I  just don't care about a "Grammy winner recounting difficulties in her formative years," or one person's "journey listening to her inner self,"  or a collection of "essays on anxiety, loneliness and productivity."

Please tell me if you read these books and why you enjoyed them.

Making Bread

 

Her Scottsh Legacy | Universal Book Links Help You Find Books at Your Favorite Store! (books2read.com)

            I recently binge watched a series, as many of us have probably done during this pandemic. It was a historical drama and at least once in every episode, the female characters were in the kitchen kneading dough. Given the time period – 1750 – it was certainly a normal enough occurrence, at least for the more common folk. The wealthy, of course, would have cooks and kitchen maids making their daily bread or in some cases would order it from commercial bakers.

            Unknowingly, I used this same daily activity in my latest historic romance – “Her Scottish Legacy”. As I wrote, I found my characters quite often in the kitchen where the housekeeper seemed to spend her days making bread. When the heroine asked about it, the woman replied – “Have you seen the two giants I’m cooking for?” – referring to the housekeeper’s husband and the hero, both of whom were large, hard working men. The thing is, some action needs to be occurring while a conversation is being held that moves the story forward. In addition, having information about foods, and/or the method of preparing them, in a novel gives readers insight into the daily life of whatever time period the story is set.

            For example, in the medieval period baking was a luxury few were able to enjoy. Ovens were not a standard fixture in any household, so bread-baking never really entered the home in the medieval period. It was a commercial activity, such as bread-bakers in London. But those who could afford a wood-burning stove (and to heat it) would start with bread. The better the quality, the higher up the social order you were. Rich people ate fine, floured wheat bread. But if you were poor you might have only rye or black bread. Only the very wealthy ate the cakes we tend to think of today.

        It’s fun to add texture to your stories with bread-specifics of the time. In my story, the Scottish bannock is a flat, round bread, larger than the scones and not to be confused with the medieval trencher. In medieval times, people used thick bread rounds as plates, called trenchers, with meat and sauce heaped on top. Then we have the French baguette, developed in the 18^th century; the pretzel by European monks in the 6^th century and the bagel by Ashkenazi Jews in Poland in 1400. And of course you’ve heard the story of the “invention” of the sandwich by John Montagu, the 4^th Earl of Sandwich in the 18^th century.

        Another surprising fact is that yeast breads have been around since 1350BC, possibly first created by the Egyptians who used yeast in making beer. It is not clear as to which came first – beer or bread.

        I love baking bread. Punching and kneading dough has always been a great stress relief. It’s unfortunate that in the last few generations the art of bread making has been lost. It is so much more convenient to purchase and of course much less time consuming. I believe a “benefit” of the pandemic is that bread making has made a comeback although at the beginning of 2020, yeast and flour were difficult to find.

        Would you like to try your hand at bread making? Here’s one of my favorite recipes for delicious coarse-textured bread your family will love.

Bulgur Honey Bread

1 cup bulgur wheat (dry)

3 cups boiling water

½ cup honey

2 Tbsp oil

1 Tbsp salt

2 packages dry yeast

½ cup warm water

6 ½ to 7 cups flour

            Combine bulgur, boiling water, honey, oil and salt in a large bowl. Cool to lukewarm. Add yeast to ½ cup warm water and stir to dissolve. Add to cooled bulgur mixture. Blend in flour in 3 parts, beating after each addition until dough leaves side of bowl. Turn onto lightly floured surface. Knead until smooth and elastic and doesn’t stick when pinched with fingers. Put in a greased bowl and let rise until double (about 2 hours). Punch down, divide in half and shape in loaves. Put in two loaf pans, cover and let rise until double. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes. Brush with butter.

While you’re waiting for your dough to rise, download and enjoy “Her Scottish Legacy” at Her Scottish Legacy | Universal Book Links Help You Find Books at Your Favorite Store! (books2read.com)

Barb Baldwin, who often judges the quality of a restaurant on whether they serve fresh, home made bread and biscuits or brown-and-serve.

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

 

Marketing, thy name is Satan!

 

Vanessa C. Hawkins Author Page

If you look up the word Marketing in the dictionary you may come across something like this...

MARKETING verb 1. ♦ frustration, vexation, agitation; Marketing is the biggest pain in the ass and writing a book is a thousand times easier and why!? Why did I ever think I could market my book? God help me, please! PLEASE! 2. ♦ the Devil; Marketing is the Devil.

Just in case you failed to understand the definition, here is a visual. 

While it's true that many writers are humble scribes furiously scribbling their fancies on paper, when it comes to becoming a... duh duh duh! author, most of us don't know shite about putting ourselves out  

there. In fact, once we get over the initial excitement of being offered a contract by a publisher, many of us succumb to the crushing weight of what will happen once our book is out amongst the public. What do I do? Book launch? I have to read IN FRONT of people?

Well yes. You should. But Especially during Covid times it is not always easy. 

Social Media, book store signings, readings, writing press releases, online virtual author meet and greets, and book tours are all great, right? BUT... they also lean towards the boisterous signs of an extrovert. 

Now I'm not saying that all writers are introverted creep-a-zoids who stay isolated in their rooms for hours on end writing about characters they've thought up in their heads to put them in silly, cruel and oftentimes weird situations but... I also don't know how to finish that sentence.

Just because Stephen King resembles a goblin doesn't mean he's weird... right?

But really, no. Not all authors are introverted. Are a lot of them? Yes. Do some bear an uncanny resemblance to goblins? Maybe. But you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover... even though we totally do. I talked about it actually last month.

My point being: marketing is hard. A lot of authors struggle with it. Sure, anyone can put a book up on the internet, but how do you stand out among thousands of other authors trying to survive and eke out a living in an Amazonian wilderness? 

Well... good question! And honestly... I don't really know! If I did, I'd probably be doing something else, like sipping martini's and eating ice cream sundaes made with edible golf leaf and caviar, topped with a unicorn horn or chocolate dragon claws or something.

Mmm... edible dragon horn...  

But despite that, my book A Curious Case of Simon Todd, was featured in a Bookbub recently, and if you don't know what Bookbub is, it's a platform where authors can apply to feature their books on their site for a fee. Now getting a Bookbub deal isn't easy. I applied more times than Bart said Ay Caramba in the first six seasons of The Simpsons. But when I did get a deal, it was a great experience! I sold over 500 books on Amazon alone and made more than my fee cost and had a plethora of people message me requesting signed physical copies!

Now people like Stephen King can sell 500 copies in the time it takes to blow their nose... but for a little guy like me, I was in heaven! 

After that I contacted the newspaper and told them about my success... and though a lot of them didn't care and ignored my emails, others interviewed me and I got in the newspaper! Twice! Well one isn't running until Tuesday BUT I'M STILL COUNTING IT!

So I guess the trick to marketing is to just keeping trying. The Curious Case of Simon Todd was published in 2018, but I still managed to get some solid sales almost 3 years after it was released! I mean... George R. R. Martin is hated by SO many people now... but that's a recent thing! His first book was written in 1996! 

Same, George... Same...

So don't give up! Keep on trucking! Great things take time and all that other positive vibe crap that someone says to keep people motivated! You can do the thing... even if the thing is pretty much the devil... 

Did I mention this already? I did? Oh, okay... just checking.

And someday soon, I'm sure YOU TOO can be hated by millions of people for not finishing a series you continue to make thousands of dollars on each and every day! YAY!

I'm only kidding... don't be mad, George. I'm sure you have a good excuse...

... please finish the books, George.  

...Please?

Oh and if you're a reader and not an author... Leave a book review! They're pretty much our bread and butter... Our precious! 

Suspicious Neighbor by J. S. Marlo

 

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

 Winter before last, on a cold, dark January morning, Jessie's daughter walked into the house to drop off her five-year-old daughter before going to work.

Kate jumped into Jessie's arms. "Why is there a  car parked on the fire hydrant, grandma?"

"What?" Confused, Jessie stared back and forth between her granddaughter and daughter. "What car?"

"I'm surprised you didn't hear anything when it crashed, mom." Her daughter gestured for her to come outside, so Jessie donned a coat over her nightie and a pair of boots.

The fire hydrant had been tossed into a snowbank some six feet away and a black SUV with tainted windows all around and the driver's door open had been abandoned on the corner of Jessie's driveway where the fire hydrant used to stand.  The surreal scene in the twilight woke up Jessie more efficiently than the cup of coffee she hadn't had time to drink yet.

"I'm sure that car wasn't there at five-thirty when your dad left for work, or else he would have called the police." Jessie couldn't see anyone in the SUV, and couldn't smell gas, but she was still reluctant to approach the vehicle. 

Her daughter called nine-nine-one. Within minutes, the police and the fire truck arrived. While the officers and firefighters assessed the situation--no one was dead or injured in the SUV--one of the firefighters gave little Kate a tour of the truck and a stuffed bear. For Kate, it was the start of a wonderful morning, but for her mom and grandma Jessie, that should have been the first clue that something was wrong with the neighbor who rented the house on the right--except the women assumed the driver had abandoned the vehicle because he was either drunk at 6 a.m. and didn't want to get a DUI or had stolen it.

From her house, Jessie couldn't see these neighbors because her double garage blocked her view, but when she went for a walk, she often noticed vehicles parked  for a few minutes in front of the neighbor's house.  Then as the weather got warmer, she noticed the neighbor's big dog in the yard.  Every time she went outside, the dog would jump at the fence and bark and growled. The dog terrified little Kate who stopped wanting to play in Jessie's fenced yard.

Out of the blue, the owner of the house stopped by to talk to Jessie's husband. The woman had received an anonymous call saying something suspicious was going on in the house she rented to the man in his mid forties. "Do you think my renter might be running a prostitution ring?" she asked Jessie's husband. "Are you the one who sent me a message?"

"No, I didn't send any messages," answered Jessie's husband who had never met the owner until that moment, "but now that you mention it, I often see vehicles parked in front of the house , but the drivers always leave their cars running while they go inside, and they never stay more than five minutes, so I doubt that's prostitution, but something else may be going on."

Well, a few weeks later, Jessie decided to clean her shed which stood beside the fence separating her backyard from the suspicious renter's. At one point, she carried some junk out of the shed and froze in the doorway. Two RCMP officers were scouting the edge of her property for 'something'.  They glanced at her, then resumed their search without saying a word. Somewhat rattled by the encounter, Jessie carried the junk into the big garbage can in her driveway, but as soon as she came within view of the street, she froze again.

There were police cars, unmarked cars, and a armored vehicle in the street in front of the house. Her suspicious neighbor's property was swarming with police officers, some in standard uniforms, some in tactical gear, and others in civilian clothes.  They were carrying boxes out of the house, and processing the two vehicles in the driveway.

"Jessie?" The next door neighbor on the other side of Jessie's house, a single mom with four girls, ran toward her. "I was outside with the girls when the armored vehicle stopped in front of the house, followed by all the other vehicles. No sirens, no flashing lights. Officers in tactical gear just bolted out, busted  the door open, and charged in. They arrested two or three people."

The drug bust didn't surprise Jessie, but she was disappointed she had missed all the action. To have seen the RCMP tactical unit in action would have been awesome.

~ * ~

While it might make a nice opening chapter for a novel one day, I can't take any credit for the story because it's not a story--it's my life in a nutshell.

I'm Jessie. I live in a quiet neighborhood, but for many months last year, I lived next to a renter who was sentenced to 10-15yrs in jail--twice--for drug and weapon related offenses, but for some reason, he was released after only a few years both times.  Lots of cash money, drugs, and weapons were found during the raid, and as far as I know, he's still in jail awaiting his next trial.

After the raid, the owner renovated the house. There were bullet holes in the floor, and sewage backup after someone tried to flush the drugs. Half a dozen people were crashing in the house, many of them addicts. Some of them tried breaking into the house even after the owners got rid of everything. Me, I invested in heavy duty deadbolts in case they tried barging in the wrong house--namely mine.

The former drug house had been on sale since Christmas. Three weeks ago, it sold. The next day, one of the addicts who often crashed in the house contacted the owner. She had just come out of rehab,  she was clean, she had turned her life around, and she wanted her stuff. The owner told her that the house was empty, so what did the woman who had allegedly turned her life around did a few hours later? She tried breaking in through the front window in broad daylight...no comments!

Yesterday, the new owners moved in. I haven't met them yet, but hopefully, peace and tranquility will return once more.

As you can see, writers live ordinary lives...or do they?

Happy Reading & Stay Safe

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

Being Neighborly by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Click here to visit Eileen O'Finlan's Website

Many people, myself included, lament the loss of neighborliness. When I was a kid the neighborhood in our little New England town was a community. Everyone knew and looked out for everyone else. Too often today even next door neighbors barely know each other. We blame this on many things - people being too busy with work, the fact that people don't stay in one place for very long, allowing social media to take over out lives - and myriad other culprits. But do we ever consider that this change isn't all that new? The neighborhoods of my youth had nothing on those of early New England.

From colonial times until about the mid-1800s life in New England was extremely interdependent. The English colonists and their descendants got through life primarily on an intricate barter system. Goods and services were traded, recorded in account books with a monetary value attributed to each to ensure fairness, and reconciled usually on January 1st, with nary any cash exchanging hands. One family might have more cows than another so could produce more butter, cream, and cheese while the other family had a loom and wove textiles. Trading made sense. A person possessed of certain skills such as coopering, carpentry, or blacksmithing might barter his services for help on his farm (most everyone farmed at that time, especially in rural areas, whether or not they engaged in a trade) or for foods or goods.

If someone needed help completing a task or simply wasn't capable of doing it, another with the necessary skill was always there to step in. Of course, reciprocity was expected if it could be offered. However, widows and those in need or distress were never expected to reciprocate.

At certain times of the year entire neighborhoods got together to assist each other in the urgent work of mowing and storing hay, hard labor that had to be finished quickly. If rain threatened even the women and children old enough to help pitched in. That hay would feed their livestock throughout the winter. Without it their animals, which represented their own survival, would have starved. Men assisted each other in barn and house raisings. Women gathered to make quilts. Young and old alike worked and played together at "frolics" - gatherings where a group completed a labor intensive task such as husking copious ears of corn. Once the work was completed it was time for refreshments, music, dancing, and games, all of which might go on late into the night.

In Tales of New England: The Diaries of Hiram Harwood, Vermont Farmer 1810 - 1837 it is stated that twice a year neighbors gathered to work on the roads, plowing, scraping them clear of rocks, and mounding them in the middle. Work was assessed at $0.75 per day in the spring and $0.50 per day in the fall and all the residents were expected to participate to work off the tax rate assessed by the town.

Visitors were welcomed at any time. The norms of hospitality demanded that food and drink be offered to anyone who happened by at a meal time, shelter for anyone caught in a storm or after dark, and a place to sleep for a weary traveler. This went for strangers as well as family, friends, and neighbors.

When someone fell ill neighbors helped out with nursing and picking up the work of the sick person. A dying family member was never left alone. Family, friends, and neighbors stayed with that person right to the end. As it was customary for someone to stay awake all night with the body after a person had died, these same family members, neighbors, and friends spelled each other in this melancholy task until the burial.

Such profound interdependence must have made for some interesting social dynamics. People who had to rely upon each other for survival undoubtedly had to work hard at maintaining good relationships with one another. Yet, it might also be said that the tightly woven web of interdependent life into which everyone was born helped to make creating and sustaining healthy interpersonal relations the norm. Being that they were all human, there were undoubtedly tensions, anger, hurts, and upsets, but these must have been dealt with and mended as a matter of course much of the time.

By the mid-19th century these powerful bonds began to erode with the coming of the Industrial Revolution. More and more items that had once been made exclusively in the home began to be mass produced in factories. Single, young women began leaving their family farms to take jobs in the mills.  Young men or whole families migrated west to begin new homesteads and seek their fortunes. The market economy grew. Despite some setbacks along the way, the Industrial Revolution rolled on, forever changing the landscape and the relationships of New England.

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