Hangman Jack Ketch by Katherine Pym

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Tyburn Tree

Hangmen have been hated throughout history. After all, they killed people. Some of these men found their calling so appealing, they took their jobs to a new level. Jack Ketch was one of them.

Little is known of the man except he was married to a woman named Katherine. Almost always drunk on and off the job, he was a sadist and an artisan in his field.

He loved torture and knew how to delay death. He’d purposefully botch jobs. When at a hanging, he tied the noose around the victim’s neck so that the knot was awry. Once the prisoner was shoved off the back end of a cart, their necks wouldn’t break and the person would dance the jig while he choked to death. Loved ones would run under the gallows to aide in their deaths or pay Jack to bring a quick end. They hung on the body until the trachea snapped.   

A Gibbet

Other lucrative perks included: Payment to torture a person. He’d receive monies when he sent corpses to Surgeon’s Hall for dissection. He auctioned off lengths of the noose at a nearby tavern, sell the dead body’s shoes and clothing.

For the dead who committed treason, Ketch quartered them beneath the gallows. When he gibbeted corpses, he’d retreat to his chambers (later called Ketch’s Kitchen) in Newgate Prison, where he parboiled the cadavers then covered them in pitch to keep the flesh from rotting too quickly. These gibbets, a large cage, were hung at crossroads or busy byways as a warning to passersby.  

Ketch was not a good executioner. He preferred other methods than the axe. Maybe, he wasn’t burly enough to wield one, or he did not look handsome as he swung it toward a person’s neck.

Lord Russell saying goodbye

Lord Russell, executed for high treason.

Ketch chopped on Russell’s neck so often, missing his mark or only maiming him, (One stroke hit his shoulder.) that those who watched became incensed by his cruelty. Later, Ketch felt impelled to write an apology.

“'The Apologie of John Ketch, Esquire in vindication of himself as to the execution of the late Lord Russell, 21 July 1683.' Ketch repudiated the charge that he had been given 'twenty guineas the night before that after the first blow my lord should say, "You dog, did I give you ten guineas to use me so inhumanly?..”

This exchange must have thrown off Ketch’s aim, but it does not explain how he could have bungled the execution so badly. John Evelyn who wrote a journal during this time, described the messy affair as done in a ‘butcherly fashion’. 

Duke of Monmouth

When it came to the Duke of Monmouth in 1685, Ketch had not improved his disposition or attempts to make a clean kill.

“At Monmouth's execution, 15 July 1685, Ketch played a prominent part. Monmouth, in his address to him on the scaffold, alluded to his treatment of Russell, and this appears to have totally unnerved him. After three ineffectual blows he threw down the axe with the words, 'I can't do it,' and was only induced to complete his task by the threats of the sheriffs. Sir John Bramston {Autobiog. p. 192) and others confirm the fact that Ketch dealt at least five strokes, and even then, according to Macaulay, he had recourse to a knife to completely sever the head from the trunk (Macaulay, Hist.; Somers Tracts, x. 264-5).”

John Evelyn again at the execution, he wrote that the crowds would have torn Ketch to pieces had he not been guarded.

Ketch not quite getting it right

Ketch died in 1686 or 1687.

~*~*~*~

Thanks to:

Wikicommons, public domain

https://londonhistorians.wordpress.com/2011/04/19/jack-ketch-bodgy-axeman/

https://www.express.co.uk/expressyourself/95619/The-vilest-prison-in-Britain

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

Sidney Lee, editor, Dictionary of National Biography, Vol XXXI, Kennett-Lambart, Macmillan and Co. NY, London, 1892

P...O...V... by J. S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

Way back when I was writing free stories for fun, someone mentioned POV and told me I would need to start paying attention to it if I ever decided to become a real author. To be honest, I didn’t think I would ever become a real author—whatever real meant—but most importantly, I had no idea what POV stood for. Prepositions Or Verbs? Pickles Or Veggies? I had to ask what POV meant. The answer was Point Of View, which didn’t enlighten me at all. For my defense, I write in my second language, but when I tried to translate the answer in French, it didn’t help. So, I begged for the lengthy explanation-for-dummies.

For each scene I write, I was told I needed to step into my hero’s or heroine’s body/mind. I could only see what my heroine saw, so unless she was an alien with eyes behind her head, I couldn’t see the guy behind her clenching or unclenching his fists or ogling her. I could only hear what she heard, so unless she was the Bionic Woman (it was a TV show back when I was many many years younger), she couldn’t hear the other side of a phone conversation someone else was having...then again the man at the other end of the line with the woman beside me at the drug store two days ago was so loud, I overheard everything he said, and I wish I hadn’t. I could only taste what she ate, so I couldn’t say the dish of the guy at the other end of the table was too salty, though if he spitted it out or grimaced, I could venture he didn’t like it for some reason. Obviously my other characters could touch objects my heroine could see, but unless she also touched it, I couldn’t say the guy felt it  was rough, or soft, or clammy, unless he said so. I could only smell something she smelled, and I could only write down her inner thoughts...unless she was a psychic who could read other’s people mind.

It made sense and that sounded easy until I started paying attention to it. If my heroine walked into a room in the dark, a room in which she had never been, I couldn’t describe the room, until she bumped her toes on something and patted the object to figure out what it was. I couldn’t say someone was hiding in the closet with a knife until that someone jumped on her and stabbed her, which meant if I wanted that detail known, I had to write another scene before that one in which the killer stepped into that room and hid in the closet. I couldn't say if my hero liked the kiss if I was in my Heroine’s POV, but I couldn't tell if she enjoyed it if I was in my hero’s POV, though I do tend to write most of my love scenes in my heroine’s POV. In other words, I was forced to think before I wrote, which I ended up finding fascinating.

Before I start writing a scene, I need to determine whose character’s body/mind I’m stepping into. More than once I’ve written the same scene twice, once from one character’s POV and the other from a different character’s POV, then read both aloud to determine which one made greater impact. Two of my novels feature deaf heroines, so it was interesting writing in their POVs. Noises couldn’t startle them. They couldn’t hear snowmobiles, or steps, or voices, or birds singing in the trees, or explosions, but they could feel vibrations. I usually write around 45% in my heroine’s POV, 45% in my hero’s POV, and the last 10% through other character’s POVs. I write romantic suspense, so I like to step into my antagonist’s mind and/or some secondary character’s mind a few times through the story.

When it comes to POV, it seems different publishers have different requirements. Some have very strict rules, like 60% heroine/40% hero/0% other character, while others are more flexible. I’m lucky my publishers are flexible.

As a reader, or a writer, or both, how do you feel about POVs? Do you like stepping into the mind of the antagonist a few times? Or a secondary character? Or do you prefer staying into the heroine’s or hero’s mind the entire story?

Let me know, I’m curious.

JS

 J. S. Marlo's Website

 

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Bringing in the May--in PA

A Love Story for Spring

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/mozarts-wife/id442899071?mt=11

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/my-mozart-2

******************************************************************

May Day is on her way—in fact, as this post goes live, I’ll be in the hills of PA at camp bringing in the day with fellow congregants.

This is the first big get-together for those of us who are just visitors to the site, the some-time pilgrims. Of course, there are folks who live at the sanctuary year round, serving the organization with hard work, both sweat and detail and are sworn to poverty. They alone witness the white sleep, the deep mud, and the green rebirth, the dry leaves, the storms and rushing waters of the Everything She Touches She Changes Creek, the focal site of the camp.  The wards of the church live with the privileges and hardships of the place, which are entangled.

Some of the pilgrims to the place are old. Some are young. 

The kids are all right! They have cool shoes that light up and neat costumes to wear and know all about Harry the Young Wizard or Gimli the Dwarf as well as Spiderman and Black Panther and Ponies.  Sometimes they have two mommies or two daddies or just a single weary parent, trying to keep up with them. The small ones will cry, grumble and yell inside the bunk house after the old and decrepit are already in bed, wrapped in sleeping bags on futons and concentrating on their muscle aches, or curled up tight hoping to warm their feet. Eventually, all the fresh air and camp excitement, the chill of the night and exhaustion from running through the long grass (kites, sparklers, noisy drones) overcomes them, and the small “replacements” will also pass into unconsciousness.

At night there will always be motion here and there, or a ritual which requires fires, flowers, smokes, and rum. Flames bloom and crackle at new-created campsites, headlamps jiggle through the dark, potty doors bang, bats twitter in the twilight. At night there is some wandering, romance for those so inclined, long philosophical discussions in a tent under party lights with cold cups of coffee or other, more Dionysian beverages at hand. 

You may take a long lonely walk through the hilltop labyrinth and then watch the sky. There are also 2 a.m. trips to the outhouse through the dew laden grass made by the elders. These latter are hoping not to trip and fall, but they are also known for pausing in order to gratefully survey the dark-dark night sky and rejoice at the sight of blazing stars that have been invisible in their light polluted home towns for decades. 

In the morning the women braid wreaths from tubs of donated flowers. Maidens and children will wear them too, as well as the May Queen. Already the ribbons and flowers have been plaited into the great wreath, the one which will be ceremonially raised to the top of the pole. A little sympathetic magic never hurt anyone, especially on behalf of our poor beleaguered planet. 

The dance, an ancient practice from another continent, will take place in the afternoon, when, usually, to our great delight, the chary spring sun comes through clouds and warms us. Shirts and shoes will come off in the humid meadow and the celebrants will enact the rite of pole and wreath, and the young men will struggle (laughter, jokes) with the rising. At last the dance of under-over-under-over will begin, braiding the bright ribbons.  Everyone in that circle will soon be sweating and breathless, dizzy from glancing up at the pole, at the swaying wreath and ribbons. 

Around us this year, the trees will be barely leafed, and the blue sky will come and go through low clouds.  Drumming will provoke showers. Elders will look on, visiting, and congratulating one another because they are still witnesses to life—Winter has “spared them over for another year.”  

~Juliet Waldron

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How Do You Establish a Story? By Connie Vines

 How do you establish a story?  What is your most unusual story?


I, like most of the writers I know, are involved in workshops, plotting groups, and or online classes.  Many of these are workshops sponsored by my local Orange County Chapter of Romance Writers, (past and present) are excellent in content and easy of application.

Christopher Vogler’s workshop “The Writer’s Journey” was a 2-day event which was designed for screen writers.  While I have ghost-written a screenplay, which was adapted for the small screen oversees, this is not main focus.  I have, however, applied what I leaned in this workshop to plot/outline my novels, novellas and expanded the W-plotting guide for my short-stories and anthologies.

And, of course, no writer’s library would be complete without out a physical copy and video version of Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”.  His work goes into detail about the art of storytelling and why we, as humans are hardwired (same say it's in our DNA) to accept and expect the ‘myth’.

During my term on The International Chapter of Romances Writers, I taught online classes on character development and plotting.  I, as I’ve blogged about in the past, plot my stores in 3-chapter clusters due to story flow, pivotal-points, dark-moment, etc.  Revisions are simpler for me this way because I can to insure my story’s pacing remain even. 

After my basic story is plotted, my character sketched out and motivation defined, I need to add depth to my character and strength my conflict.  I fine the series of writer’s reference books by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, of Writers Helping Writers fame, a must-have reference.  However, I also rely on ‘unconventional’ conflict generation.  Astrological signs are great form of conflict.  (Remember I have always worked odd-jobs—some jobs more ‘odd’ than others, to support my writing habit.)  One of my ‘temp’ assignments was for a local (and semi-well known) astrologer.  I already had knowledge of astrology but he explained charting/predictions/ and conflict due to…well, you get the general idea.  I have found this immensely helpful when my characters come from a similar background which can make ‘conflict’ a stretch.

I applied astrology (though it is never an element in the novel itself) to “Lynx” Rodeo Romance, Book 1.  Rachel is an Aquarius and Lynx is a Leo.  Opposites in the Zodiac, but like all opposites there is attraction/conflict/ and a heart-felt story line.

If a reader is looking for the ‘astrological elements of my character development’ she/he will find them.

Question #2 What is my most unusual story? 

Unusual
 Meaning: not habitually or commonly occurring or done.
synonyms:  uncommon, abnormal, atypical, unexpected, surprising, unfamiliar, different;
remarkable or interesting because different from or better than others.

All of my stories fall under this umbrella, though for different reasons--depending on the series/setting.

My novels are set in areas I am familiar with, either by residing or vacationing in the area.  In 'Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow," my novel is set in Forest Falls, CA.  Since it is about an hour from our home we dove up the mountain and ate at the restaurant, toured the small town and hiked to the falls.  We also spent the next day at Big Bear Lake.

I mentioned in earlier blog posts, my ties to Native American Culture and the west.

My current release “Tanayia—Whisper upon the Water” is a historical YA novel with a Native American heroine and a setting in a boarding school in the 1880s.  The story reads like a young girls’ diary but is written in the 1st person, narrative.  Once Upon a Romance Reviews calls my 1st person narrative filled with raw emotion-- the reader is standing on the hill top beside Tanayia and living in her world --from Prologue to Epilogue.  Book 2 is a must!

Thank you for stopping by to read my post here at BWL.
If there is a topic you'd like me to write about in the future, please let me know.

Connie

**Apache Bread

1 c. white cornmeal
1 c. yellow cornmeal
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. red pepper
1 c. boilng water
1/2 c. bacon drippings
green cornhusks

Mix dry ingredients, add boiling water and bacon drippings.  Form into small rolls and wrap in green corn husks.  Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.  Makes 12 individual breads.

** A Taste of Native American Culture by Connie Vines

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ANGELS OR EXTRATERRESTRIALS? - by Vijaya Schartz

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What are angels? Really... Since they do not come from this earth, it's safe to say they are extraterrestrials... or are they?

Different versions of the Christian Bible name a few, but other ancient sacred texts, like the Zohar, the Torah, the Koran, and the Vedas have long lists of angels who descended to earth to deliver messages, warnings, to teach, test, or punish man.

Angels are legion, as I discovered in my intensive research. Some like Gabriel and Raphael are messengers (which is the root meaning of the word angel), others like Michael who chased Adam and Eve out of Eden with a flaming sword and destroyed the serpent, and Uriel the Avenging Angel, are wielding deadly weapons.

 

But there is also Lucifer, the brightest angel and mutinous leader cast away for wanting to impart advanced knowledge to the lowly human race. The records also list over a thousand good angels, fallen angels and demons.

The sex of angels has long been debated. Even as the tower of Babel fell, that was the topic of conversation among the wisemen of the time.

As for the Watchers, sent to watch over mankind, they were the ones who found the daughters of man beautiful and took them for wives... They mated with human females, producing the Nephilim, and triggering God's wrath in the form of the great flood, to destroy their shameful progeny... although a few survived. The giant Goliath is believed to be descended from such hybrids.

As I imagine a celestial power ruling the universe, it would have to be organized. My research indicated that there is a very strict hierarchy among angels, like in a military order. There are archons in charge of entire planets, archangels, and many categories of angels whose descriptions vary. Some have multiple pairs of wings, while others look completely human. Others yet have multiple heads, animal heads, and others yet look more like machines with turning wheels.

The two angels who warned Loth and his family of the imminent destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah looked like perfect human beings (no wings) and the depraved denizens of the city found them so beautiful they wanted to buy them for sexual pleasure.

Where do all these angels reside? The universe is a big place and a spaceship would not be enough to contain entire legions. I would surmise there are planets out there, inhabited and ruled by angels.

For the sake of my new series coming very soon (May 2018), AZURA CHRONICLES, one of these planets is AZURA. And what happens there is mysterious indeed. In book One, ANGEL MINE, my heroine, Fianna is a bounty hunter pursuing her mark, a convicted multiple murderer who just escaped from a high security penitentiary on a space station.

What in the frozen hells of Laxxar prompted Fianna to pursue her quarry to this forbidden blue planet? Well, she needs the credits... badly. But as if crashing in the jungle wasn't bad enough, none of her high-tech weapons work. She'll have to go native, after the most wanted felon in five galaxies. It's not just her job. It's personal.

Acielon has never seen an outworlder like this fascinating female, strangely beautiful, and fierce, like the feline predator loping at her side. He always dreamed of exploring the universe, despite the legends... and the interdiction. Is it truly a hellish place of violence, lies and suffering? If it spawned this intriguing creature, it must also be a place of wonders, adventure and excitement...

Fianna's instincts tell her someone is watching. Sheba, her telepathic feline partner, doesn't seem worried... yet, something on Azura isn't quite right.

Vijaya Schartz
  Action, Romance, Mayhem
  http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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