Facebook Genius Reincarnate (with a Gold Aura!) by Gail Roughton

Hop on the Broomstick!

Am I the only one who's noticed? Either America's getting really dumb or really brilliant.  And I have an impeccable source to support that statement.  Facebook.  Think about it. Every other post is some little quiz claiming that only one out of ten people know the answer to all these questions, or only one in a hundred people can spell all these words or pick the proper usage/form of said word in a sentence. Now honestly, when you're not spelling a word from scratch but merely picking the correct spelling or usage out of a choice of three, does that even count as knowing how to spell? Or proof of knowledge of grammar rules in general? I think not, but that's just me talking. 

There are endless variations, of course. "Only a genius can get all ten questions right!"  Well, be still my heart, I must be a bona fide genius. I mean, nobody but a genius (except anyone who's finished elementary school) knows Thomas Edison invented the light bulb rather than  Dwight D. Eisenhower or Ben Franklin.  'Cause oh yeah--those little quizzes are multiple choice, too.  I mean, even if I didn't remember it was Thomas Edison, process of elimination tells me folks didn't go around flipping light bulbs on in the late 1700's and early 1800's so that lets ol' Ben out and Dwight Eisenhower was a World War II General/1950's U.S. President so it's not rocket science to deduce the correct answer.  We'd been using light bulbs a good long while by that time, after all. 

In short, if the quality of education in America has truly sunk to such a level that anyone who knows the plural of deer is deer, that a group of crows is called a murder, a group of cows a herd, or that the correct spelling when referring to the head position of a school is principal and not principle is classed as a genius, or conversely, sunk to such a level that most people don't know most of the answers to all those quizzes--don't tell me. I don't want to know.

I've sworn off most of those quizzes; being a certified genius (per Facebook) I know they're mostly click bait to ascertain which ads to inundate your spam folders and Timeline with, but I'm only human and I love to be entertained, so I still occasionally fall victim to the quizzes that promise to tell you where you should actually live (though I don't think anyone should put much stock in a quiz that told me, poster child of the Deep South, I was only fifty percent Georgian), the true color of your aura, how old your soul is, what you really were in a former life and how you died. If you don't believe in reincarnation, you can find a quiz that'll tell you what type of ghost or angel you'll be (even though technically, I think some scholars believe that you don't become an angel after death because angels are arguably a separate species and you're either created one or you're not.) 

All I can say is I must have an extremely temperamental aura because that sucker changes color from one quiz to the next like a diva changes clothes. It's been every color in the rainbow, which is a very unreliable trait in an aura if you ask me. I'm a very old soul, and that actually stays pretty consistent.  I've been everything from a queen to a witch (and tell me honestly, what woman alive isn't sometimes a queen and sometimes a witch in her present life?) to a bank robber in the old West, I've fallen off cliffs and been shot by the law while trying to escape. I'd be a guardian ghost and a warrior angel. That's provided of course I don't get reincarnated again and human souls do (or can) turn into angels after death (see above discussion on angels.) 

Like I said, it's entertainment, and I'm sure that's all any of us take it to be.  And speaking of entertainment (and reincarnation and angels), there's this little series I wrote a while back wherein my poor heroine discovers she's actually a reincarnated witch who just possibly has a celestial familiar...

Take a ride on War-N-Wit, Inc.'s broomstick, why don't you? Start with The Witch and stay on board for Resurrection. 
Then hop on your Harley for Daytona Bike Week in The Coven.  Finish up with an out of this world tour in Mean Street, LLC.  And please check back in for more tongue in cheek blog posts from this writer, the 6th of every month. In the meantime, one of the Books We Love authors is up for your entertainment right here every day, same time, same channel.

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Web-Blog Writin' With Southern Stylin'!

Rosemary Morris shares some of her routine and process of writing her historical romance novels

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Some people imagine that novelists either live in an ivory tower or in a garret a slave to the muse. In fact, all the authors I know are dedicated to writing but neither they nor I are cut off from the world.

On the 29^th of August, I woke at 6 a.m. very relaxed because I finished writing, revising and editing Wednesday’s Child, Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week, Book Four.

Until 8.30 I read and replied to e-mails instead of keeping to my usual routine of writing from 6 a.m. until 10 a.m. with time out for breakfast.

Rob, my gardener arrived at 9.30 a.m. and weeded my mini-orchard of plums, pears, four apple trees and a cooking apple tree. We collected the windfalls, and picked six pounds of ripe apples and two pounds of plums.

While working in my organic garden in which I grow herbs, soft fruit, stone fruit and vegetables, I experience a connection with past times when people ate local produce in season. Delicious produce uncontaminated by artificial fertilisers and pesticides.

At 10 a.m. my seven-year-old granddaughter arrived to spend the day with me. She ate two apples, played on her i pad next then with playdough. I sorted out the apples, kept some to eat and made juice with the rest. Afterwards, I picked the last of the French Beans and prepared them for the freezer.

At eleven o’clock the three of us had a break. I made hot chocolate for my granddaughter and tea for myself and Rob, who shares my interest in history and is also a member of Watford Writers, which meets on Monday evenings.

To recreate the past in my novels, I read historical non-fiction which often gives me ideas for my novels. Rob and I discussed my recent purchase is Set in A Silver Sea, Volume One of Arthur Bryant’s History of the British People. When Rob left I gave him some plums, apples, tomatoes and a large courgette, as well as homemade creamy leek and courgette homemade soup from the from the freezer.

For lunch, we ate sandwiches that included home grown cucumber and tomatoes while sitting outside in the garden. Afterwards we planted her broad bean plants. The two she sowed at school looked dead but she told her teacher that her green-fingered grandmother would save them.

She went home at 2 o’clock so I put my feet up, caught up with more e-mails for an hour, read a chapter of The Silver Sea, then watched an episode of Borgia on Netflix. At five o’clock I made a spinach, peas and curd cheese curry and chapattis for my granddaughter, her fifteen and twelve-year old brothers. It’s one of their favourite meals. (I included the recipe at the end of my novel Far Beyond Rubies set in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign, 1702-1714.) For dessert, we enjoyed mangos.

In the evening, I dealt with some writing related business matters, revised, and edited Chapter One of my new novel, Thursday’s Child, Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week, Book Five. On Monday evening, I shall read it at Watford Writers and receive constructive comments from members.

Almost time for bed, I watched another episode of Borgia on Netflix. It’s more sexually explicit than anything I usually read or watch but the history is interesting.

So, this typical autumn day in my life proves I neither live in an ivory tower nor a garret.

Monday’s Child by Rosemary Morris

All my historical novels have strong themes with which modern day readers can identify with. In Monday’s Child, the tension mounts as war with France becomes inevitable.

At heart I am a historian, so Monday’s Child is rich in historical detail.

Back Cover

In March 1815, Napoleon Bonaparte escaped from exile in Elba. In Brussels, eighteen-year-old Helen Whitley, is aware that war with France between Britain and her allies, is inevitable. A talented artist, Helen is aware of the anxiety and fear underlying the balls, breakfasts, parties, picnics and soirees - held by the British. In an attic, she paints scenes in which she captures the emotions of daily life during the hundred days before the Battle of Waterloo.

While Helen lives with her sister and wealthy brother-in-law, Major Tarrant, she waits for Major, Viscount Langley, to arrive in Brussels and ask her to be his wife. Langley, who serves in the same regiment as Tarrant, is her brother-in-law’s closest friend, therefore she assumes her sister and Tarrant will be delighted by the match.

She is grateful to her brother-in-law for including her in his household. Nevertheless, Helen regrets being dependent on his generosity, so she’s looking forward to being mistress of Langley’s heart and home.

Before Langley leaves England to join his regiment, he visits his ancestral home, to inform his parents that he intends to marry Helen. Yet, when he arrives in Brussels to join his regiment, he does not propose marriage to Helen, and her pride does not allow her to reveal the misery caused by Langley’s rejection

Review by Juliet Waldron

Regency Addicts Rejoice. Everything for the Regency addict here, with a heroine of great beauty but small fortune, all the strategies required for keeping one's place in the "ton," and plenty of interfering relatives. Taking it a little further afield than Jane Austen did, this story is set in 1815 Brussels where all the eligible young men are soldiers in Wellington's army, awaiting an attack by Napoleon. Despite the wartime tension, there's still plenty of time for balls, visiting, and morning gallops. The author knows her stuff--from clothes, to the many strictures of proper behaviour, which seem to us today as limiting as the ladies' underwear. Not only the detail but dialogue too shows a lively understanding of the period; I didn't see a single teacup laid out of place. While this book is a Regency delight, it's no fantasy confection. Class differences and gender relationships are portrayed realistically, sometimes jarringly so, with no candy-coating. I was particularly pleased by the marital choice made by Monday's Child--aptly named "Helen." It left me with no doubt about her HEA.

Novels by Rosemary Morris available from your online bookstores and in ebook and print

Medieval.

 Yvonne, Lady of Cassio.

18^th Century

 Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess

Regency

 False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child (Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week.

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary

http://www.bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary-romance-historical-uk/

The Head of Sir Walter Raleigh by Katherine Pym

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Sir Walter Raleigh

Sir Walter Raleigh was an intrepid explorer. The favorite of Queen Elizabeth I, he introduced Ireland to the potato and tobacco to England. His place was happily set until Elizabeth I died, and James I came from Scotland to take the throne. Raleigh thought he’d remain high in the new Crown’s esteem, but he was wrong.

His arrogance annoyed England’s new king, and Raleigh’s popularity with the people irritated the powerful Cecil family. Within a few short weeks of James’ succession, Raleigh suggested James was not a good choice for England. That sent the king’s dander flying, and gave the Cecils the opportunity to get rid of Sir Walter. Raleigh was sentenced to death in November of 1603, but his popularity with the people wouldn’t allow the execution. Instead, Raleigh was thrown forthwith into the Tower where he languished for several years. He stayed in the ‘Bloody Tower’ and walked along the parapets that is now ‘Raleigh’s Walk’. His wife was allowed to be with him, and in 1605, they had another son, named Carew.

It must have been difficult never to be allowed anywhere but within a few feet of your chambers and three servants. He had to pay for the room and board, plus any coal used to keep warm. Finally, in 1617, Raleigh was allowed out of the Tower, and sent to South America, where it was believed the Spanish still dug treasure from the earth. The Cecil family took this and ran with it. They betrayed Raleigh to the Spanish.

The trip did not go well. Besides being attacked out of the jungle gate by the Spanish, Raleigh lost a son (not Carew), and he became very ill. Upon Raleigh’s return to England, James had him thrown back into the Tower.

A servant dousing Raleigh, thinking he was on fire

Raleigh was still high in regard with the populace. In order to avoid public outcry, Sir Walter was sentenced to be executed October 29, 1618, Lord Mayor’s Day. People would be involved in the Mayor’s pageantry, parties and such, and Sir Walter’s death would hopefully go relatively unnoticed.

Here’s where it gets interesting. People are really quite unique.

Sir Walter Raleigh gave a long speech, denying any treasonous behavior, then he requested to see the axe. He said, ‘This is sharp medicine but it is a physician for all diseases and miseries.”

“Removing his gown and doublet, he knelt over the block; as the executioner hesitated, Raleigh exclaimed, ‘What dost thou fear? Strike, man, strike!’ The executioner responded, bringing the heavy axe down, but a second stroke was necessary to separate the head completely from the body.”

Normally, the head of a traitor would be put on a pike on the south end of London Bridge, but Raleigh’s was not. It is conjectured Raleigh was too popular, and his head on display would show the king had tricked his people by killing one of their favorites. As a result, Raleigh’s head was put in a red leather bag and given to his wife for safekeeping.

Raleigh’s body was buried in “the chancel near the altar of St Margaret’s, Westminster, but Lady Raleigh had his head preserved and kept it with her for the next twenty-nine years...” There was a belief that the brain held a person’s soul, and to hold the head meant that person was always with one.

When Lady Raleigh died, Sir Walter’s son (Carew) obtained his father’s head. They say Sir Walter’s head was buried with Carew, but no one really knows.

Many thanks go to Geoffrey Abbott, author of The Gruesome History of Old London Bridge, Eric Dobby Publishing Ltd, 2008

The Birth of Song of Memories by Roberta Grieve

 

Roberta Grieve's Book Page 

More than 20 years ago I was off work with flu, lying on the sofa, listening to the radio. The programme was called ‘The Man who was Sammy’  –

This is the clipping from Radio Times which sparked my idea for the story.

The programme ended with the brother and sister reunited He had escaped from the gulag, a story stranger than fiction. This gave me the germ of an idea for a novel – the story of a woman separated from her lover when he is arrested and sent to the gulag. And how she never gives up hope that they will be reunited. I played about with the idea for ages but it didn’t get any further. After all, what did I know of Stalin’s Russia?

However, it seemed that the idea would not go away and over the years several things came together. I read a book called The Long Walk about 3 men escaping from the gulag, (Subsequently made into a film called The Way Back. Then, while working in the library, I came across a book called ‘I was a Soviet Worker’. It was by an American who had been invited to the USSR to work in a factory and help the Soviets in Stalin’s Five Year Plan.

So there I had the bones of a story – I knew it was possible to escape, and I had a legitimate reason for my British heroine and her lover being in Moscow in the 1930s.

All I had to do now was put it all together in a romantic novel  - and do a lot more research of course. It was the first book I actually finished. It went through many revisions over the years but each time I sent it out it came winging back – many times. Finally I gave up and got on with my next novel. Happily now, after having eight novels and nine novellas published, ‘Song of Memories’ had found a home with Books We Love and has just been published in paperback and as an E-book.

It has certainly vindicated the advice given to writers – ‘never throw anything away’.