Writers Are About Words (and That Makes Me Think) by Karla Stover

    

Amazon

Every once in a while I give pause over something—generally something trite, for example, the word, “nonplussed.”  Its original Latin definition was “no more or no further.” The meaning then changed to, a state of bewilderment and now means unimpressed. That change isn’t what bothers me, though. What really gets me is that the “non” implies that a person can be “plussed” which they can’t because there’s no such word—or condition.

     Inchoate is another puzzler, though less so because it is possible to be “choate.” Oliver Wendell Holmes used the word, “choate” in 1878 but I wonder if anyone has used it since then.  Anyway, inchoate means either the beginning of something, or to begin something, and choate means whatever was begun is complete.  Mostly the word is used by lawyers.

     Which brings me to “short-shrift.” A “shrift” is a confession to a priest, a penance imposed, or absolution of sins after a confession; “short-shrift” means, little or no attention was given. I’ve never seen or heard the word, “shrift” used.

     The use of “real people” on some (dare I say) reality commercials insults me. “Real” as opposed to what? Is there such a thing as an unreal person? Is that what zombies, vampires or werewolves are? Of course, I know the advertisers mean the unreal people are those who are stars in their fields—athletes, actors, etc. The implication being they’re so far above the rest of us that they aren’t “real?” What are they, then? Inhabitants of Mount Olympus, home to the Gods? I have a hard enough time with male actors, as it is. Actor Paul Giamatti said it best. “Acting can be a really silly thing. It's like playing dress-up.” No “like” about it; acting is dressing up and pretending to be someone else.

     And one last interesting thing. When I belonged to Toast Masters, we counted the number of fillers people used in their talks—such as, er, um, and erm. A synonym to these is, “you know.” “You know” has invaded the English language. All four of them are mimetics—sounds of hesitation.

     Please, someone, make them go away.

http://bookswelove.net/authors/stover-karla/

Books We Love's Tantalizing Talent ~ Author J.Q. Rose

After selling our floral and garden center business, my husband and I sold our home and took off in a fifth-wheel camper to see the country. We lived full-time in the 32 foot trailer enjoying all the comforts of home, but not the hassle of being home-owners. We visited areas of the US we always wanted to see and worked at many mission projects.

During this time, I finally achieved my dream of being a writer. I sat at the small table in the camper and wrote freelance articles for newspapers, RV magazines, and online magazines. Seeing my byline on the articles made me happy.

I became accustomed to change while moving around the country in our RV. After ten years of non-fiction writing, I was ready for a change in my writing career. After reading Sue Grafton and Janet Evanovich mysteries filled with great storytelling and humor, I was inspired to write my own mysteries.

 In my latest mystery from Books We Love Publishing, I relied on my background as a funeral director’s daughter to create Deadly Undertaking, a romance/mystery/paranormal story with quirky characters in small town situations.

That old adage—“The only thing constant in life is change” is one that’s true. I embrace change and the possibilities that come with it. It keeps life, and my writing, exciting and invigorating.

Please find my BWL author page here. 

http://bookswelove.net/authors/rose-j-q/

Amazon

Deadly Undertaking

Lauren Staab knew there would be dead bodies around when she returned home. After all, her family is in the funeral business, Staab and Blood Funeral Home. Still, finding an extra body on the floor of the garage between the hearse and the flower car shocked her. Lauren’s plan to return to her hometown to help care for her mother and keep the books for the funeral home suddenly turns upside down in a struggle to prove she and her family are not guilty of murdering the man. But will the real killer return for her, her dad, her brother? Her mother’s secrets, a killer, a handsome policeman, and a shadow man muddle up her intention to have a simple life. Welcome home, Lauren!

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Summer's Last Stand by Gail Roughton

Technically speaking, down here in the Deep South, Summer's a heck of a long way from making its last stand. That won't happen until mid-September at least, and there's no guarantee it'll happen until October. And even then, it won't go without a fight. Summer doesn't go out graciously down here, it makes its exit kicking and screaming and still manages to sneak back onstage for encores. 

Summer's not defined merely by the outdoor temperature, though. Summer's made of those lazy, hazy, sleep late days cherished by all kids who've already entered the hallowed halls of the American education system. The days of summer vacation that stretch from roughly the end of May to the first of August. Being a child born in the 50's who entered the education system in the 60's when school started roughly around Labor Day and wrapped up generally the first week in June, it's really hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that the first day of school seems to creep up earlier and earlier each year. Down here in Middle Georgia, most school systems started back this last week. 

It's been a great summer for me. Really, really great. And notwithstanding the fact that I don't really like to travel or spend the night away from home, I love day trips. I love riding the back roads, looking out the windows at the scenery, at the small towns still busily living their small town lives along their routes. Fortunately for me, that's a love my husband shares and we've indulged it a good bit this summer, driving up to Lake Sinclair, re-visiting a few of the State Parks we remember fondly from our own childhoods and introducing them to our grandchildren.  

Middle Georgia's only a three to three and a half hour trip from the beach (just perfect for us Day-Trippers), even taking the back roads and not the interstate. Leaving early in the morning puts you on one of Georgia's premier beaches by mid-morning, giving families plenty of time for a beach play day, followed by a seafood feast at any number of seafood restaurants, and topped off by a drive home down the same back roads, when the changing angle of the sun shows you the passing scenery in a totally light than you viewed it that morning.  You know you're close when you see that gorgeous bridge in the distance, when you can watch the shrimp boats moving up and down the shoreline.

Last Saturday, we made a final summer trip down to Jeckyll Island. We'd been to the beach already this summer, but this time, it being the weekend and not a weekday, the kids got to go and not just the grandkids.  And when you watch your children watch your grandchildren walk along the sand, you know you've made memories that span three generations. For them and for you.  I'll miss summer. I won't miss the heat index, but I will miss the freedom inherent in the very word, the promise of high adventure and new places.  And speaking of high adventure and new places....

You ain't in Kansas anymore!

Gail Roughton on Amazon 

Published by Books We Love, Ltd. 

Visit her Blog and on Facebook

Burning of St Paul’s by Katherine Pym

London burning

Of late there has been a plethora of articles re: the London Fire. The reason for this is we are nearing the 350^th year anniversary of this spectacular event. Books are coming out. We’ll probably see a television special on it, maybe a movie.

If you believe in reincarnation, people who were there will remember it while we are being inundated with its drama. If you believe that memories can be passed down from one generation to another from the genes of our ancestors, if you are in any way related to them who lived through this event, you will remember the horror of it today.

The fire began in the wee hours of Sept 1, 1666 in Pudding Lane. A great wind rose that stoked the fire into a conflagration that did not end until Sept 5.

St Paul’s Cathedral was 2 churches in one. Underneath the grand structure, in the crypt, was St Faith where booksellers and their families worshipped. It was also a storage place for books, paper and printing presses. While the fire consumed the eastern portion of London city, people stored their goods there, expecting the great cathedral’s stout walls would protect them. 

View of London burning from Tower of London

When built 150 years earlier, the roof had been layered with lead, but over the years, holes had been patched with wood to keep out the weather. During the Civil Wars, horses had been stabled in the church. A blacksmith had worked within those vaulted walls, his forge chimney piercing through the cathedral’s lead roof.

In 1663 or so, a committee gathered to repair the old building. The closest they came was to enclose it with a webbing of wooden scaffolding. By Sept of 1666, the old cathedral was a neglected pile of stone. All it needed was a spark to meet its end, and what a spectacular end it was.

Wind whipped the London fire into a frenzy. It burned so hot, the glow and smoke could be seen for miles.  

People fled into the old church because it was stanchion against all adversity. They ran with what they could carry on their backs and huddled within the nave. Tuesday, as night fell over the burning city, the worst was yet to come.

“The pall of black, oily smoke over the city grew more and more dense, forming clouds so thickly charged with particles that a thunderstorm broke out, but it was unlike any storm the watchers... had ever seen. Out of the lowering pall of smoke, lightning began forking down around St Paul’s, the bolts stabbing into buildings that already were ablaze. The peals of thunder were lost in the roar of the flames and screaming of the wind...” ^{pg 134 Great Fire of London}

“The dry timber forming the roof above the stone vaulting burnt furiously... Large parts of the roof, both stone and burning timber, fell in, and the Cathedral became a roaring cauldron of fire...” ^{pg 177 The Story of London’s Great Fire}

The choir loft crashed into the vaults, causing the floor of the cathedral to collapse.  Tombs split open, their contents furiously burning.  Walls burst apart like cannon torpedoes, and the massive lead roof melted, pouring off the sides of the walls like silver rain.  It covered everything in a silver sheen before running in molten streams down London streets. 

Ludgate burning w St Paul's in the background

The next morning, a man named Taswell walked through the smoking ruins of London to Paul’s Cathedral. “The ground was so hot as almost to scorch my shoes; and the air so intensely warm that unless I had stopped... I must [would] have fainted... I perceived the metal belonging to the bells melting; the ruinous condition of the walls; whole heaps of stone of a large circumference tumbling down with a great noise just upon my feet, ready to crush me to death.” ^{pg 181 The Story of London’s Great Fire} 

Flames still burned from St Paul’s 48 hours later. Those who had sheltered in there slept with dead in their vaults. Piles of stone cooled under a sheathing of lead. It covered ancient relics in silver relief, reminders of the cathedral’s better days.  

The city hissed and smoked for weeks after. Over the months, spontaneous explosions would burst from cellars where the fire had never stopped smoldering.

Yes, we’ll see more of this in the coming weeks, but I don’t know if the extent of the calamity will ever be felt by those glued to their seats. Only those whose memories have drifted through the eons to this moment will really know what it was like.

Map of the destruction

Many thanks to:

Wikicommons, Public Domain

 

Bell, Walter G. The Story of London’s Great Fire, London 1929

Hanson, Neil. The Great Fire of London in that Apocalyptic Year, 1666. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., New Jersey, USA. 2002

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