A Peek at my Office by Nancy M Bell

A Longview Wedding is the third book in my A Longview Romance series. Cale and Michelle finally get things to go their way. Available at all good book sellers. Click on the image to see my BWL author page and all my books.

I thought it would be fun to let you all see where I work and create. It's a bit crowded, okay, more than a bit. But it has a big window and three antique book cases. The book cases are stuffed with research books, antique books, series of books I collect by my favourite authors. Charles de Lint, Mercedes Lackey, Anne McCaffrey, Patrick Taylor, Jack Whyte and Diana Gabaldon. To name a few...LOL

The middle of the bookcase that takes up the whole west wall of my office. You can see some of my Beswick horse collection.

A rest of the bookcase that takes up the whole wall, jam packed with books. This is where I keep the copies of my own books. The picture at the end of the case is of Nanjizal in Cornwall. The split in the rock is called the Song of the Sea. The bay is also known as Mill Bay. This location is featured in my Cornwall Adventures book Go Gently.

The wall by office door. The white horse is White Spirit an Alberta Wildie stallion living on Crown Land up near Sundre, Alberta. Below him, the picture is 'moose hair tufting'. First Nations artists create these by pulling moose hair through in a pattern and then cutting and shaping the hair to create original and lovely pieces of art. Some are coloured with natural dyes while some like this one are left the natural colour.

The bookcase and desk combo, lots of my crystals, hawk feathers from the pair that nest over the road from me, and some treasured books.

The bookcase on the south wall in front of the big window with my pretty peacock Tiffany lamp on top. This is the case with most of research books hide.

The wall above the long bookcase with the tapestry of the Battle of Bruges. A gift from a friend of mine. The small framed piece beside the tapestry is an example of 'birch biting'. It is a dying First Nations art created by folding white birch bark and marking the bark with a pattern by biting with the incisor teeth. I first saw this in Flin Flon, Manitoba and bought a small piece. It is lovely and all are one of a kind.

Prints on the wall to the left of the door.



As you can tell the place is pretty crowded but I have all my research books and information at my fingertips. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Usually, I'm sifting through my books and moving stuff so I can get the cabinet doors all the way open. It's a great environment for creating my stories. The dogs sleep on the floor in the doorway, and my big white cat likes to sleep on my comfy chair.

I hope you've enjoyed this small tour of my work area.

The Ladies With The Blue Hair - Janet Lane Walters

About 70 years ago, I was 10 years old and I noticed the lady across the street had blue hair. This puzzled me and I wondered why. She was a lady who had a gardener to care for her yard. When she went places, a man drove a shiny car to take her places. She didn't ride the streetcar or the train that stopped not far from where we lived. How did her hair become blue? This fascinated me and I believed that to become a lady one had to have hair this color.





Then one morning I noticed my mother added this blue stuff to the white clothes she was washing. Was this the answer? I imagined this was the source of the hair.


Then I began to see other women with blue hair. These were also women who wore nice clothes, had nice jewelry and arrived at church wearing hats and gloves. Perhaps this was the answer. Maybe blue hair ran in their families. My grandmother had gray hair but hers wasn't blue.


This puzzled me for years. Then I met my husband and mentioned the ladies with the blue hair. He nodded. He had noticed blue hair on some women where he lived. He also had no idea how their hair became blue. He did say they were ladies and wore nice clothes and were women of importance in his town.


Aha, I thought. He finished medical school and we moved to a large town in Western Pennsylvania, not that far from where we had grown up. I joined the Women's Medical Wives group and I noticed there were women with blue hair. They always wore hats and gloves to the meetings. Maybe, just maybe I had found the answer. They were ladies and maybe I could become one.


Now, I was a jeans kind of person but I did have a pair of gloves, or thought I had. I went to the meeting in my jeans and a velvet tunic top. I wore my fancy boots bought when we lived in Texas but I could only find one glove. An elbow one left from some party I'd had to attend. I went to the meeting and walked in. To add to the looks I always received since I had no intention of wearing a little black dress, pearls, a hat and gloves, I pulled off the glove.


"I couldn't find the other," I announced.


I did not ever discover how all those years ago those ladies had learned how to blue their gray hair. But that led to other outrageous actions - like how I celebrated my 35th birthday. Perhaps I'll tell you that tale some day.


Oh, by the way, I now have a streak of blue in my hair. Not a lot but then I'm not a lady.

Cleaning house

The Twisted Climb by J.C. Kavanagh

Is your house getting cleaner as you get older?
If no, scroll to the next sub-heading.
If yes, keep reading.
I've noticed that every year, maybe even every month, my house stays cleaner for longer periods of time. Truly. The older I get, the cleaner my house.
Until recently.
I used to tell myself, "There's no dust here because I live in the country."
I used to tell myself, "The bathroom sinks stay shiny for ages."
I used to tell my friends that my house stays clean all by itself. "There's an anti-dirt / anti-dust fairy in my home." Weren't they great friends for just nodding their heads. No eye-rolling or cuckoo motions.
Until, as I said before, recently.
I was having dinner with my partner, Ian, and extolling the unending virtues of our house-cleaning fairy.
He quietly asked, "Are you talking about the fairy that's collecting dust bunnies in your bathroom?"
Whaaaat?
He was very calm about his question. Or was it a proclamation? I hurried to my bathroom, pulling Ian behind me. The dark green marble tile looked like it always does. I turned around inquiringly and Ian pointed to a corner, beside the Jacuzzi tub. I squinted and peered. "Nice marble, though the colour is a bit dated."
He sighed and handed me my reading glasses. "Now have a look."
"Alright," I said and perched them on my nose. I cast my eyes toward the offending corner.
Good Lord in heaven above. There were dust bunnies the size of cats and they had given birth to baby bunnies all over the floor!
What happened?
I looked at my sink. Were those eyebrow hairs behind the faucet, collecting on the white porcelain? Good Lord in heaven above. Yes.
Wasn't the sink shiny and clean? Well, kind of. More like shine-spot-here and shine-spot-there.
Now I was angry. That no-good house-cleaning fairy done gone and run off with a no-good lazy-butt dirt fairy.
Or not.
"What happened?" I asked my other half. "And why didn't you tell me?"
Ian just grinned. "I like it when you can't see the dust. I'm not going to tell you it's there.... you'll make me clean, too."
That was cheeky but quite true. Never has there been a more vacuum-loving, bathroom-cleaning and dust-free fanatic, than me.
Until recently.
Oh those eyes, they ain't what they used to be.

Next sub-heading

If you skipped to here, you missed a funny story and really, you should go back to the beginning.

My other half, Ian.

He's a good bloke - won't see dust - will feed birds.

Book signings in Ontario!

Come see me at the Chapters store in Square One, Mississauga on Saturday, January 28. Or, drop by for a visit at the Chapters store in Newmarket on Saturday, February 11.
I'm also part of two 'Meet the Author' events for the Angus and Caledon libraries in February and during the children's school break in March. I'm looking forward to sharing with the kids just how I 'dream' up most of my stories.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you had a wee chuckle or two at the expense of me ol' eyeballs. Cheers!

Joanie
aka J.C. Kavanagh
The Twisted Climb
A novel for teens, young adults and adults young at heart.
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.Facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
Amazon.ca/author/jckavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1

The Origins of Tree Hugging

Painting of the massacre of Bishnois in 1730

 The term tree-hugger in North America is generally used in a pejorative sense, to refer to a wolly-headed, idealistic hippie who is not connected to “reality.”

But tree-hugging has a long history, as a way of protecting the environment, as a protest against political exploitation and as an expression of cultural and spiritual values.

In 1730, the King of Jodhpur, a desert-like region in the North-West of India in the state of Rajasthan, required wood for the construction of a new palace. He ordered his soldiers to collect wood from a region where Bishnois, a rural people, lived.

One of the Bishnois, a woman named Amrita devi, could not bear to witness the destruction of both her faith and the village's sacred trees. In an expression of non-violent resistance, she hugged a tree, and encouraged others to do so too, proclaiming: “A chopped head is cheaper than a felled tree.”

As each villager hugged a tree, refusing to let go, they were beheaded by the soldiers. It is said that 363 Bishnoi villagers were killed in the name of their sacred forest.

When the King was informed about this atrocity he rushed to the village and apologized, ordering the soldiers to cease logging operations.

In 1973, the mountainous Himalayan region of India was the scene of another widespread episode of tree-hugging. Called the Chipko (stick) movement, it went on to become a rallying point for many environmental movements all around the world. In many parts of the developing world, parcels of forests were, and still are, being sold off to companies for clear-cutting. As with the Bishnois, the Chipko movement had many female leaders.  At first, several small confrontations between villagers and loggers from companies happened.

But the flash point occurred in January 1974, when the government announced anther auction. This incited the villagers, who decided to protest against the actions of the government by hugging the trees. On March 25, 1974, the day the lumbermen were to cut the trees, the men were diverted by state government and contractors to a fictional compensation payment site, while back home labourers arrived by the truckload to start logging operations.

Chipko women defending trees

A local girl, on seeing them, rushed to inform Gaura Devi, the head of the village’s women’s association Gaura Devi led 27 of the village women to the site and confronted the loggers. When all talking failed, and the loggers started to shout and abuse the women, threatening them with guns, the women resorted to hugging the trees to stop them from being felled. This went on into late hours. The women kept an all-night vigil guarding their trees from the cutters until a few of them relented and left the village. The next day, when the men and leaders returned, the news of the movement spread to neighboring districts and more people joined in. Eventually, only after a four-day stand-off, the contractors left.

The news soon reached the state capital, where the state Chief Minister eventually ruled in favour of the villagers. This became a turning point in the history of eco-development struggles in the region and around the world, and from here, tree-hugging spread to other areas around the world, including North America.

While tree-hugging is seen as an ecological movement in the west, the roots are actually spiritual. The Bishnois are followers of the Guru Jambeshwar Bhagavan, born in 1451, who taught twenty-nine principles which emphasized cleanliness, truthfulness, devotion to God and compassion for all living things, including trees and animals. Their beliefs have led to a remarkable community. Bishnoi carpenters never cut trees--they wait for trees to die on their own or fall down during storms. They dig small ponds in their fields and fill them with water  for wildlife during the arid summer months. Even if their standing crop is eaten by deer herds, no Bishnoi ever chases a deer away. They are great protectors of wildlife and consider it a great pride to be able to die saving trees or animals. Unsurprisingly, Bishnoi areas are oases of trees, wildlife and water in an otherwise forbidding landscape.

A Bishnoi girl

"We would willingly go hungry to feed the animals," says Bana Ram, in an interview with Anupama Bhattacharya[i]. "We believe in the co-existence of life. Our guru said that those who die saving innocent animals or trees will go to heaven. For us, animals are the avatars of divinity."

"Our guru forbade us to get addicted, be it smoking, tobacco chewing, drugs or alcohol. Even tea is considered a vice," says Teja Ram. 

"What makes me proud," says Bana Ram, "is that the next generation is even more committed to nature than we are." As if on cue, a little boy who can hardly keep pace as we walk around the village, tugs at my sleeve and says: "I'll never let anybody kill these animals."

Living amidst the barren wastelands interspersed with khejri and babool trees, the Bishnois are a proud race. "We don't get any help from the government and don't want any," says Johra Ram. "Any change in the world has to begin within the society. All this talk about nature and wildlife protection would be more effective if each individual was to believe in the earth as a living, breathing entity and fight for its survival the way we do."

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

www.yogazapper.com

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[i] http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Love-Elementals-And-Nature-Spirits/1425768

I cried when I reached the end... but in a good way....by Sheila Claydon

Katy was used to losing things. First she’d lost her childhood home, then her career and reputation, and finally, and most dreadfully, her identity, so she knew she should be used to it. She wasn’t though and she couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave her job and start over, not now she was beginning to make a new life for herself. On the other hand she wasn’t prepared to play second fiddle to her boss’s girlfriend. Thank goodness she’d found out what he was really like before it was too late…or had she?

We have all read books which made us cry. Stories that have so gripped our emotions that we have totally identified with the characters even though we know they are fictional. It happened to me earlier this week...except it wasn't quite like that. You see I wrote the book!

It was Saving Katy Gray. I developed the storyline and created the characters. I knew the outcome too, obviously, so why on earth did I cry? There are two possible explanations. The first is that I need to get a grip! The second is that I might...just might... be a halfway good writer. I hope it's the second one but the only way a writer can ever really know is if a reader posts a good review, or makes contact by email or letter, and when that happens it's thrilling.

Saving Katy Gray is the final book of my When Paths Meet trilogy and it was published in 2014. As is the way with most writers after the excitement of publication day, I moved on and started writing another one. Now, several years later, Books We Love is adding a print format to all those eBooks, something that thrills me greatly even though it entails a considerable amount of work. As well as having to reformat the books, there is an opportunity to re-edit before they go into a second edition, so that's what I was doing. Re-reading and editing. What I wasn't expecting was that one of my own books would make me cry..

It also made me realise how much emotion a writer invests in each book and, in my case, even more when it is a series. By the time I finished writing the third book the characters were like family. Even now I think of the local but anonymised house and garden that I 'borrowed' for Book One, as 'Marcus' and Jodie's house' whenever I walk past it. The same goes for the local riding stables. Although I moved their location in my book, they still  belong to 'Jodie' in my mind.

Re-reading a book published several years ago was interesting too. I was surprised by how much I wanted to tweak things...not the story, but some of the dialogue. Some of the prose as well. While it was fine (and edited) the first time around, reading it again in a couple of sittings made me want to tighten it up. It was a good exercise and well worth it because now I'll be able to have print copies of each of my books too.

I know fellow writers will understand  about the crying and the relationship with my characters. I'm less sure about the reading public, but if they like the books then that's enough. I just hope they don't think I need to get a grip!

My books can be found at Books We Love and on Amazon

I also have a website and can be found on facebook  and twitter