Long Ago on the Internet

 

Roan Rose   ISBN:  149224158X

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Way back, more than 25 years ago, the Internet was a fairly new thing. Ordinary people, from their home personal computers, were finding their way into all kinds of list serves, usually aligned with some niche interest, from TV shows to movies to genealogy, to nascent gaming platforms. There was electronics tech talk, as well astronomy, mechanics, philosophy and music. Universities began connecting, sharing their resources. Fiction began to appear online. This was the time of the birth of what is now today's globe-spanning "social media" and the genesis of many mega-billion dollar fortunes, whose troll lord owners tyrannize the internet -- and the politics - of today's online world. 

In those innocent days, however, the internet was a magical open door for those of us fortunate enough to have a desktop computer and dial up service. Through that electronic door people with all kinds of interests could connect, people from all over the world, in my case, the English speaking world. We could make friends everywhere we shared a language; we could travel vicariously to places like England and Australia, or to the West Indies or Canada.

Through an online friend, I discovered sites for history lovers--one in particular called "Later Medieval Britain" (LMB) where people who were fascinated by the Wars of Roses had debates and heated exchanges with one another. Many of these folks were British, some were Australians. I was one of the first Americans on the list, because the fate of "the princes in the tower" had been an obsession of mine since childhood. (My own on-the-spectrum "penguin.")                                                                          Below: Richard III

  

I'd been advocating for the Yorkist side of this ancient strictly regional spat since I was a bookish kid, even arguing ("Rude American child") with the Beefeaters at the Tower of London in my young teens. I passionately believed that Richard III had been maligned, that he had not killed his nephews as his successors, the Tudors (Lancastrian side) alleged. Whatever the truth is, 500+ years later any evidence can only be circumstantial; we shall probably never know what truly happened to these poor little dynastic pawns, but that's not the subject here. 

My subject is the friends I made--on the Yorkist side of the ancient quarrel, naturally! As time passed, we shared about other things: our families, children and grandchildren, pets, gardens, as well as all the historical sources which were passed around and discussed at length. I didn't have a lot of money, but here was a way I could travel without going overseas. Looking back, I loved the time spent on the LMB and then searching libraries for the books about which I'd heard, but most of all, I loved these people, who were as touched as I was. 

I was writing a novel and many others on the listserve were too. We all had our own solutions of the whodunit, of course. When I finally got together the money to go to the UK, I managed to meet several of these much esteemed online voices. One of them drove a group of us around to various historical sites and museums. We had supper together in York in a little restaurant inside the medieval walls. One venerable gentleman, Geoffrey Richardson, who lived near York, had written books on the Neville/Plantagenet clan which were available in museum stores at the local castles and battlefields. I'd hoped to meet and walk upon his favorite battleground, but it never happened, for flooding rains drove all the tourists out of York. I was lucky to catch the last train that made it to London that week, and never had another opportunity again, for he passed away later that winter, taking all his wealth of knowledge and his caustic wit and unique northern turn of phrase with him.

Death happens more frequently in my world these days. I opened FB today--something I don't do much anymore. What used to be news from far-flung friends is now all advertisements, not the warm virtual connection that once was so reliably there. After scrolling down a bit, I suddenly came upon a funeral announcement for an old LMB Australian friend, one who was younger than I am. 

I was shocked and saddened. Meredith was a fellow Ricardian, a fellow writer, a spirited member of our listserve. Later, she became my online publisher and a talented editor too, but besides that I was acquainted with her husband, her children and grandchildren, her garden and her home. I knew her kitties too--these often pictured lounging luxuriously in bed.  Unasked, Meredith spontaneously sent several Aussie children's books which were informative, clever and funny for one of my southern granddaughters, kindly providing this little girl she'd never meet her first real view into life in far-off land. Another beautiful mind, full of learning, opinions, memories and humour, gone forever. RIP my dear friend!

~~Juliet Waldron      

My Favorite and My Not-So-Favorite-Point-of-View By Connie Vines #ConnieVines

 

 My Favorite and My Not-So-Favorite Point-of-View.

How does an author choose a point of view for his/her story?

I promise to only skim the surface of our high school creative writing class :)

Omniscient, 3rd person, or 1st Person, What are the advantages and disadvantages?

Reading:

The omniscient POV allows you to enter the heads of multiple characters, but you will act more as an observer than a reporter.

As a child (and even today), I enjoyed reading the Greek myths and Homer (author of the Iliad and the Odyssey)

The Odyssey is uniquely structured, with the narration split between a third-person omniscient narrator and a first-person narrative by Odysseus himself. The omniscient point of view is present in excerpts at each chapter's beginning.

 In terms of gods, the Greek pantheon consists of 12 deities who were said to reside at Mount Olympus: Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Demeter, Dionysus, Hephaestus, Hermes, and Poseidon.

Writing:

While I might consider this point of view in a noir-type crime story (short story or novella), I do not believe it would be widely accepted in a contemporary story.

Reading:

First Person POV

In first-person narration, the narrator is a character in the story, telling it from their own perspective. The narration typically employs the pronouns I (or we, if the narrator speaks as part of a group).

Writing:

I write in the first person when writing Young Adult contemporary and Young Adult historical novels.

I remain in the main character's point of view. At the beginning of each chapter, I may insert information using a quote, historical fact, etc. I also include an Epilogue.

Reading:

3rd Person POV

In the third-person point of view, the author narrates a story about the characters, referring to them by name or using the third-person pronouns "he," "she," and "they." The other points of view in writing are first person and second person.

Writing:

3rd Person POV

My contemporary novels, excluding young adult fiction, are written in the third person. While I may change point of view (POV), I strive not to head-hop. 

First and foremost, this mode of storytelling comes most naturally to me when writing a romance. The third-person narrative is as old as time.

Third-person subjective:

From this perspective, you can enter the characters' thoughts and viewpoints. It goes beyond narrating the character's thoughts by telling the reader "she thought" or "he wondered." It lets you really be in their head the way first-person POV does.

My excerpts from "Gumbo Ya Ya," An anthology for women who like their romance Cajun Style!

(Opening Teasers from my anthology)

Marrying Off Murphy

Settling into his office chair, Professor Murphy Flynn glanced at the faxed copy of the OP News. "I Want to Get Married!" the headline shouted. He upended his coffee mug when he realized the grainy photograph was of him, sending the liquid perilously close to a six-inch stack of upgraded papers.

He snagged the papers with one hand, using the other to dab at the puddle with his tie. His gaze locked on the name of the submission's editor: Sylvie Dupree. The memories hit him hard and fast, leaving Murphy to feel like he'd taken a direct blow to his solar plexus.

Love Potion No. 9

"Don't shake your finger at me, Simone Basso. I know what I'm doing," Persia Richmond said, holding a pipette to fill a crystal half-ounce atomizer with perfume. The top notes of peach blossoms, bergamot, and mid-notes of gardenia, honey, and tuberose tanalized. Meanwhile, the tuberose, the most carnal of the floral notes and the high-ticket natural essence for her fragrance compound, merged with peony and orange blossom to temper the intoxication properties. The base notes linger, while a hint of something unnamed and mysterious beguiled and skimmed across the narrow processing room, saturating her senses.

A Slice of Scandal

"Hey, now, 'dis key lime pie's like de one I serve at my restaurant. Simple to make and good to eat! Key limes perk up de mouth and makes you happy."

Producer/Director Julia Kincade focused on her monitor and adjusted the mic on her headset. "Camera One, tighten that headshot." She watched as the camera feathered over the chef to capture the best angle. The camera should have loved Franklin. His height was average, his black hair was short and curly, and his skin took on a polished bronze color under the harsh camera lights, but the camera didn't like Franklin.

1-800-FORTUNE

The moon was full and huge in the sky, a brilliant iridescent orb that stared down at the earth. Enza allowed the energy to feather over her as she removed the silk cloth protecting her Tarot cards.

The tarot deck has seventy-eight cards, four suits of fourteen cards each, Swords, Cups, Wands, and Pentacles, and twenty-two cards called the major arcane—the big mysteries.

Enza's mother told her she would learn to associate cards with people. She knew this was true. Because through her travels, she had met them all...

I hope you've enjoyed this month's post 😀. 

All of my novels are available on the BWL site.

or:

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Happy Reading,

Connie 

XOXO

Has our timeline been reset? by Vijaya Schartz

The Byzantium series is set on a space station and includes telepathic cats.
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Recently a new theory emerged to explain the slew of discoveries of ancient ruins from civilizations we never knew existed. We are all familiar with the stories of the Great Flood that erased ancient civilizations, and with the extinction of the dinosaurs, but there is another theory.

The new theory, based on the principle that time is not linear and all timelines exist at the same time, is that time travelers from the future are constantly monitoring our progress and resetting the timeline when we go off-course.

The recent discovery of Gobekli tepe baffled scientists
Who built it? and who buried it?

When we cross the line, go overboard, threaten to destroy the planet, these time travelers have the technology to take us back to the point where things were still on-track, or erase us all together and start from scratch. No memories of the erased civilizations remain, except their engineering achievements in stones. Although buried under millennia of dirt, thanks to lidar technology and drones, they eventually resurface and leave the scientists scratching their heads.

Intriguing subject for a science-fiction author.

Puma Punku in Bolivia defies everything we know about our past.
These perfect blocks interlock like a puzzle with a precision and smoothness
we would find challenging today, especially in such hard stone.
They also wear traces of machinery (drill holes)

On one hand, it’s reassuring to think that we will not be allowed to destroy ourselves or our planet… and on the other, it’s frightening to realize we do not know anything about these future humans or their agenda. If they wanted to destroy us, they would have the technology to do so… and maybe they did in the faraway past.

In the meantime, you can read my award-winning Epic Science Fiction Fantasy novels. There you will find strong heroines, brave heroes, a few intelligent cats, a little romance, and a lot of action, on alien planets and in space.

Here are a few for your perusing. Enjoy!

Azura Chronicles
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Blue Phantom trilogy
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Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
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My Dream Job by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

https://books2read.com/West-to-the-Bay-Yarmey

 

https://books2read.com/West-to-Grande-Portage-V2

https://bwlpublishing.ca/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

My Dream Job

My desire to travel goes back to when I was in high school. There were so many places and things I wanted to see in the world but I had no idea what job would pay me enough to be able to travel around the world. Then I decided the only way I could see all the countries and their cities, historic sites and scenery was to become a stewardess. Just that name should tell you how many years ago that was.

     To help ensure that I would have a better stay in the places I visited, I studied French, German, and Russian so I would know some other languages for when I landed and maybe stayed over in another country. In my last year in high school a job show was held at my high school and I went to talk with the representative from an airline that had a booth there. She was dressed in her uniform and was very nice.

     I explained that I wanted to be a stewardess and asked for information. She told me that I had to be a certain height and weight, which I was. She said that all stewardesses had to wear a girdle even though their figures might be perfect. I was okay with that. Then she told me that anyone who wore glasses could not be a stewardess. I was devastated, since I needed prescription glasses but seldom wore them. I went to an optometrist to get contact lenses. This was when they were still made of hard material and my eyes could not adjust to them.

     So I gave up my dream of being a stewardess.

     I married after graduation and had wonderful children who have given me wonderful grandchildren. After taking some courses I became a writer, starting out with one article and then adding some historical and travel articles. I attended a course on finding a publisher and spoke with the publisher afterwards about an idea I had. He invited me to visit him at his office which I did and we decided I would write two travel books on the province of Alberta. I travelled extensively through Alberta and was amazed at the scenery, history, and sites in my home province. When those books were a success, I did the same in British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska. These I called my backroads series.

     I began my fiction writing career with mystery novels. I gave my main female character the parttime job of being a travel writer. She always gets involved in some sort of mystery when she is travelling and researching articles for magazines. I called the three novels The Travelling Detective Mystery Series. I hope to one day write a fourth in the series. 

     I belong to a dragon boat race team and I have taken part in international festivals in Caloundra, Queensland, Australia (spent four week visiting the sites of Queensland and New South Wales then a week in Fiji), Sarasota, Florida, USA, (my husband and I travelled through two provinces and nineteen states on our way there and back home) and Florence, Italy (I did two bus tours, one cruise, and rode trains and stayed in hostels while visiting twenty countries.) I’ve also been to Japan and China with my sister.

     So not realizing my desire to become a stewardess, or flight attendant as they are called today, has not stopped me from doing the travelling I dreamed of when I was younger.

Ivy Cottage by Victoria Chatham

 

AVAILABLE HERE

Many years ago, on a bright April day with cotton wool clouds whisked across a clear blue sky by a strong breeze, I first saw Ivy Cottage. I stood at the entrance of the driveway leading into the garden, where daffodils danced at the feet of a row of cordoned apple trees covered in blossoms. The lady of the house sat on the lawn in the sunshine, engrossed with her spinning wheel, and I felt as though I had wandered through a time-travel portal.

The term 'cottage' was quite misleading, as this three-hundred-year-old Cotswold stone and brick property was actually a five-bedroom house. We made an offer, which the vendor accepted, and in August of that year, we moved in. The garden had to take care of itself that autumn and winter, but as it began to thrive the following spring, I discovered many intriguing things growing spontaneously.

Aside from the fruit trees, there was a large vegetable patch, a raspberry patch, and my favourite—a sprawling wild garden I never touched. Rabbits hid there, foxes used a regular trail through it, and a hedgehog raised her babies there for several years in a row. Bees loved the foxgloves and honeysuckle, while butterflies were drawn to the lilacs and buddleia. Each year, appearing unannounced in a different part of the garden, were poppies, ox-eye daisies, and the delicate and shy fritillaries.  

rhsplants.co.uk

Another annual visitor was the teasel, which appeared in various parts of the garden each year. Known since before Tudor times for its woollen production, the mills in our area purchased locally grown teasels.  

thompsonmorgan.com

The teasels were dried, and their spiky heads were then used to raise the nap on the fabric. This process was known as ‘teasing.’ In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, locally grown commercially harvested teasel crops became a thing of the past due to cheap imported teasels from Spain. My teasels attracted not only pollinators when they came into flower, but once they went to seed, they provided a feast for various birds, particularly goldfinches.

a-z-animals.com

The goldfinches weren’t the only birds inhabiting the garden. We had a noisy wren nesting in an old wall and a robin in the potting shed. Chaffinches and bullfinches, lovely as it was to see them, became spring pests once the fruit blossoms appeared. House and hedge sparrows, blackbirds, and thrushes all came and went, alongside an infrequent woodpecker and an occasional blue jay.

Being a single working mum meant I often didn’t tend to the garden as much as I would have liked. When the grass grew too long, I borrowed a neighbour’s goats to trim it. The only issue with this was that they had to be tethered to a ground peg, resulting in various odd-looking crop circles. It was either that or have the garden completely stripped.

During the ten years we lived in that house, the vegetable and raspberry patches were expanded, and I cultivated various herbs in reclaimed clay chimney pots acquired from a local demolition yard.

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 However, none of this brought me the same satisfaction as my wild garden and all its inhabitants, both flora and fauna.

Victoria Chatham

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