What Do You Do When Research Hands You a Curve Ball?

 Egypt has always fascinated me and I have many reference books on my shelf. One period of the ancient land has always fascinated me and I wanted to write a time travel, taking someone from today back to the time when there were many men wanting to become Pharaoh. I also liked the idea of the Hyksos invasion. So I began my research, finding everything I could think of from customs, burial, daily life, the gods and goddesses. I had enough to begin and so I did

 

 

I had just finished the rough, rough draft when I was idly flipping channels on the television when I program about camels came on. Since there were camels in my story, I settled in to watch. Something jumped out at me. There were no camels in Egypt until around one AD. No! Now what was I to do? I couldn’t write this book the way I had planned. I needed an alternate universe. I had read a series on an alternate world taking place in Italy with the Pope and if I remember Venice. This is what I would do. To make my world an alternate one I had to change much. So the first book changed as did the hero and heroine. I also changed the gods, not really, just a bit giving three main ones Horu (Horus) Bast and Toth. And so the trilogy of an alternate Egypt was born. All because there were no camels in Egypt when I wante54r4rd them to be there.

The wilds of Georgian Bay and the North Channel by J.C. Kavanagh

Darkness Descends, 

Book 2 of the award-winning Twisted Climb series

It's been a spectacularly hot and sunny summer here in Ontario and I've been fortunate to spend much of it on my sailboat, Escape Route II, cruising Georgian Bay and the North Channel. It's been said that the North Channel is the Number One destination in the world for boating/sailing. Yes, it beats the Caribbean and Mediterranean for best cruising spots.

I can attest to the fact that the water is the clearest and cleanest of all the places I've sailed (including the Caribbean). The same applies to the scenery. Rock cliffs, boulders of every size and shape, quartz covered mountains, calm waters and savage, storm-wracked waves keep the views ever-changing. Me and my partner Ian spent a month sailing from Midland, Ontario (the southern point of Georgian Bay), up to Beausoleil Island, Hopewell Bay, Parry Sound, The Bad River (where you'll find the Devil's Door Rapids I write about in my book, Darkness Descends), Killarney, Little Current (which it's not), the Benjamin Islands, Wingfield Basin and Christian Island. We anchored 29 of 31 nights. 

Ian has such a great sense of humour and is a superb captain. Being in such close quarters for a month can be trying for some couples, but not for us. Below is one example of how every day is an adventure with Captain Ian.

When I asked for more cream cheese

Yup, we like to keep things fun!
If you like to see pics of nature and the beauty around us, including native animals and birds, and believe that vacation pics are not punishment (as per Betty White), check out my photos below. You'll see from the scenery that many parts of Georgian Bay and the North Channel are still wild and untamed.

A curious porcupine near Parry Sound, Ontario

A pileated woodpecker at Kilcoursie Bay, near Parry Sound

A pair of loons and their babies, north of Beausoleil Island

Cell Tower - they should all be made like this (outside the Shawanaga Inlet)

Granite cliffs are the backdrop to the 

Escape Route II at anchor, The Bad River 

Part of the Devil's Door Rapids at the Bad River

Mountains surrounding Baie Fine, North Channel

Beavers at dinner, Covered Portage Cove near Killarney

Executive beaver lodgings

Overlooking The Pool anchorage, North Channel.

Me and Topaz Lake

Storm threatens at the Benjamin Islands, North Channel

The Screaming Tree (not The Scream by Edvard Munch) at Covered Portage Cove

Anchored at The Cove

My 27" pike - was a yummy dinner!

Morning mist over the mountains of Killarney, Ontario

Navigating waves and the 40 knot winds. 

When you're sailing, every day is 'bad hair' day :)

Georgian Bay waves at 

Wingfield Basin near the tip of the Bruce Peninsula

Remnants of the Gargantua, 

a barge built in 1923 and sunk in 1952 in Wingfield Basin

The Gargantua in 1923

J.C. Kavanagh 
The Twisted Climb, voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers' Poll 
AND 

The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) 

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)

The Banyan Tree

Today, I write about one of the enduring metaphors of India. In a passage from the Bhagavad-gita, Krishna states that “There is a banyan tree which has its roots upward and its branches down and whose leaves are the Vedic hymns. One who knows this tree is the knower of the Vedas.”

The verse refers to the reflection of the tree upon water, where it appears to be opposite to reality—that is, the reflection shows the branches down and the roots going up. The original tree, growing on land, is compared to the spiritual world whereas the reflection is seen as the material world. The tree of this material world is only a reflection of the real tree of the spiritual world.

The name Banyan has an interesting origin. In the Gujarati language, baniya means "grocer or merchant," not "tree." The Portuguese observed that the shade of the tree was frequented by Banyans (a corruption of Baniyas, a community of Indian traders,) and confused the name of that community for the tree. By 1634, English writers began to tell of the banyan tree, a tree under which Hindu merchants conducted their business. The tree provided a shaded place for a village meeting or for merchants to sell their goods. Eventually, "banyan" became the name of the tree itself.

The tree is also mentioned in other texts and traditions. In Tamil texts, Shiva, as Dakshinamurthy, is nearly always depicted as sitting in silence under the Banyan with Rishis (Seers) at his feet. The tree is thought of as perfectly symbolizing eternal life due to its seemingly unending expansion.

Shiva under the Banyan Tree

The banyan tree is the national tree of India. It is also called Indian or Bengal fig. It is considered sacred and can be seen near a temple or religious center. An old custom offers worship to this tree.

The metaphor of the Banyan tree suggests the following: that to attain spiritual realization, one has to understand the flickering nature of the material world. Sometimes, as waters move on a lake, the reflection of the tree appears and disappears. One who transcends material existence is able to understand this, and focuses his gaze on the real tree instead of its reflection. Thus, according to the passage, one who knows this truly, knows the Vedas (the texts of spiritual wisdom.)

The Yoga Zapper

Mohan Ashtakala is the author of "The Yoga Zapper," published by Books We Love. 

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/