Featured Author – J.C. Kavanagh

 

Hello All! My name is J.C. Kavanagh and I'm an author with the internationally renowned publishing company, BWL Publishing Inc. If you’re a fan of action/adventure/suspense/drama combined with a dash of paranormal, you’ve probably heard of my award-winning Twisted Climb series. It’s easy to view and purchase these books by visiting https://bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/ . Check it out!

Though my books are written for the Young Adult genre, they’re also enjoyed by young-at-heart adults who can relate to the confused mindset that teens often experience. Add a twisted dream world to the plot and you’ve got yourself a book you won’t be able to put down. 

The first book in the series, The Twisted Climb, came about in a peculiar way. You see, I have a condition known as 'Restless Leg' syndrome. This means that closing my eyes and attempting to sleep brings on a whole lot of leg kicking and twitching. Falling to sleep feels like I'm slowly climbing a mountain, one tired step at a time. So one night back in 2015, while involuntarily twitching and picturing the ‘mountain’ in the playground of my mind, I decided to invent a few characters to accompany me. Thus, sleep climbers Jayden, Connor and Max were 'born.' I kept myself invisible to these characters and concocted a story-line that, yes, I admit, kept me awake many a night but in the most enjoyable way. So my three characters meet in the strange, moonlit dream world that I've concocted and in this dream world, the only way to 'fall' asleep is to climb. But the climbing is not so simple. The mountain is full of night-time animals and things that could exist only in a dream world. Jayden is a sassy, overly confident girl with bullying tendencies while Connor is a calm, intuitive young man. Max is a young teenager trying to be a man in a boy's body. But as my dream evolved, I realized something was missing. Someone was missing. My story needed an antagonist – and so Richard Hatemore was 'born.' Richard is an evil, sickly-looking boy who seems to run the dream world and whose goal is to prevent the teens from climbing to the mountain top and 'falling' to sleep. Concocting their adventures and developing their personalities became my mission each morning. Nine months later, the manuscript for The Twisted Climb was complete and published. Alleluia! And more excitement, The Twisted Climb was voted Best Young Adult book 2016 in a readers’ poll.

I began writing the sequel, The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends, the following year. Darkness Descends continues the harrowing dream world journeys of Jayden, Connor, Max and Richard and delves more deeply into their 'real world' lives. Darkness Descends followed in the footsteps of The Twisted Climb and was voted Best Young Adult book 2018 and short-listed for Best Young Adult book by Canada's The Word Guild.

Thanks for reading about how The Twisted Climb series came to be. I hope you enjoy reading these books as much as I did writing them! Below are two excerpts... welcome to the playground in my mind... 

The Twisted Climb

Chapter 1, Green Eyes

Jayden Nanjee looked up. The full moon shone like a ghostly yellow torch against the midnight black of the night sky. The pale, low-lying clouds seemed to hug the earth as the moon peeked in and out of their embrace. They reminded Jayden of the lumpy potatoes her mother served when she felt like making dinner. She raised one hand and stared at the light brown skin that contrasted so starkly against the vivid pink of her pyjamas.

“I think I’m dreaming,” she said out loud.

Suddenly, a wolf howled. Then another. There was a forlorn quality to their cries, triggering goosebumps on Jayden’s arms and the hairs prickled along the back of her neck. 

“I have to climb, but climb where?”

A multitude of carefully pruned apple trees surrounded her. The bony limbs cast mysterious shadows in the moonlight and their heavily laden branches seemed to moan under the weight of its fruit. Above the trees, a mountainside loomed, covered in shadows. The gloom was broken only by the dim glow of street lights rimming a long, twisting road. 

Her bare feet made no sound on the lush grass as she broke into a run and within minutes, a cornfield came into view, jutting past the edge of the orchard. She reduced her pace and turned around. Something behind her was advancing stealthily. Jayden’s eyes watered with the strain of searching the orchard, where the trees wavered and danced in the moon shadows. 

She stiffened and then stifled a scream. Racing toward her, with ears laid back and fangs bared, was an angry pack of wolves. Mind racing, she reviewed her options. Should I run out of the orchard, past the cornfield and toward the street lights on the mountainside? There might be help in one of the homes along the way. Jayden glanced upward. Or should I climb one of the trees and mount some kind of defense?

“I’ll never make it to those street lights,” she muttered. The wolves were advancing way too fast. “And I can’t hide in these bright pink pj’s.”

Jumping and grabbing the lowest branch, Jayden pulled herself upward, swinging one leg around it. Then, arms and legs hugging the limb and her butt hanging down, Jayden looked back. The wolves were so close, the glare of the moon reflected in their eyes and gobs of frothy drool dripped from their jaws. Panic spread its tantalizing fingers around her body as the lead wolf raced ahead of the pack, snarling and snapping its sharp, yellow fangs. Before terror fully consumed her, Jayden pulled her butt up and twisted her body to the top of the branch, just as the wolf attacked.

“Aaagh!”

* * *

Darkness Descends 

Chapter 8, The Nightmare Within the Nightmare

“HEY!”

The shout came from the forest and suddenly they could see a girl running toward them, a dark-haired girl wearing neon orange pyjamas. 

“I don’t believe this.” It was Connor’s turn to look incredulous. “Is that who I think it is?” 

Max scampered upright. “I think it’s Jayden.” He watched as she sprinted closer. “Yup, it’s her!”

Max held up his hands in a stop motion. “Stop!” he shouted. “Don’t come any closer!” 

Jayden slowed and approached them cautiously. “Well, isn’t this a small dream world?” she drawled, crossing one arm over the other. “I guess you guys got the ‘cross over’ invitation, too?”

“Don’t come any closer!” Max repeated. “The shield has been activated.”

“The shield?” queried Jayden. “Like the one outside the Valley of Tired?” 

Connor nodded. “Yeah, but Max didn’t turn this one on.” He replicated her stance, folding his arms across his chest. “Why are you on the wrong side of the shield? Didn’t you jump into the light?”

Jayden shook her head. “I, uh, wasn’t sure about that guy in the light so I jumped left, toward the banging sound.”

“You mean the thuds and the chants?” asked Max. He rolled his eyes. “Well, that was dumb.”

“Oh really, oh-wise-one,” countered Jayden with a sneer. “And why is that?”

“Because the thuds and the chants are probably coming from Dick – Richard Hatemore. Remember him?”

Jayden dropped to her knees. “That’s why it was familiar… oh no!” she cried out, realizing what she had done. “This is Dick’s side. The wrong side.” 

Connor moved closer to the shield. It shimmered with energy, softening the contours of Jayden’s striking features. Her black hair shone in the moonlight and her green eyes displayed a level of fear Connor had not seen before.

“We’ll find the source of the shield and turn it off,” he said softly. “It can’t be too far.” His concerned smile provoked an unusual response from Jayden: she smiled back. 

Max cleared his throat. “No time for kisses, folks,” he admonished. “Let’s decide which way to travel – east or west?” 

Before anyone could respond, a wolf howled. Any hair that hadn’t prickled from the activated shield was now at full attention. Jayden looked over her shoulder and yelped with fright. Loping out of the woods some 500 metres behind her, was a pack of wolves. Their bodies moved as one, heading directly toward Jayden.

“Aaagh!” screamed Jayden. “What can I do?”

Connor looked at the stone in his hand. It was useless against the force of the shield.

“I know!” Max shouted. “Dig!”

The Narcissistic Villain

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Villains can be a tricky proposition--in fiction as well as in our day to day world.  We all hope we don't become entangled with malevolent people--ones who wish us harm--in real life. "Mad and Bad & Dangerous to know," was said of Byron, who was definitely NOT the kind of man you wanted to enchant your daughter. However, in a story, a villain provides driving force to a plot, and gives the hero and heroine an antagonist with whom to spar.  Inside a book, we are safe; there is no actual blood spilled.

By the way, the gentleman on the spooky cover above is not the villain, although he is a shape-shifter. The villain in Zauberkraft: Black is "a man of wealth and taste" who also happens to be a vampire. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and vampires, certainly, have eternity in which to brood and plot.

Villains can be fun to write--my cohort were brought up on movie theater cowboy serials, thus today, in our most entertainment ready mode, we still enjoy a good melodrama. Here, the white hats win and the black hats are carted off to justice. And what could be more melodramatic than a movie like "The Heiress"? Though this picture was made before I emerged from my mother, it's one of those movies I vividly remember seeing for the first time. I remember long cold Skaneateles winter-frigid afternoons, wrapped in woolens and watching a small Zenith TV. The somber black and white flickering on the screen matched the mood of the frozen world outside.

For anyone who isn't familiar, here's the plot. A naive, lonely heiress falls prey to a narcissistic con man, whose plan is to marry her, drive her mad, and then have her committed so he can assume control of her fortune. At first, he is the caring, genteel lover of whom she's dreamed. He does every little romantic thing for her so that, without knowing anything about him, she accepts his proposal. In modern psychological parlance this is called "love bombardment."  It's the full charm offensive with which the narcissist sweeps his target off her feet.

Next, the husband seduces the parlor maid and enlists her aid in his plot. Then the two of them begin to undermine his wife's trust in her sanity. Every night, he turns down the gaslight in the hall just a little bit, all the while staunchly insisting that his wife's "just imagining" it. The setting, in 19th Century America, where women were easily dispatched to asylums by husbands who had tired of them, smooths the villain's way.

Now, more than half a century later, "gaslighting" is a term with which most are familiar. Now, however, instead of referring to the actions of a single smooth sadist in an old film, it's commonly used by therapists to describe one of the ways in which a narcissist first undermines and then controls his relationship partner. In the real world, the narcissist is a dangerous creature, and lately it seems they are everywhere.

Back to the more innocuous world of fiction, where a narcissistic personality type makes a great villain. The narcissist, it turns out, has a sort of universal playbook. Reliably unreliable, considering only their own advantage, they love nothing and no one. In their world, empathy, or its cousin, sympathy, are incomprehensible, concepts "for suckers." They swallow up the people around them like a black hole. Absolute power, a constant stream of praise from sycophants combined with blind obedience to their whims is a narcissist's dream of heaven.

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Some of the other traits that characterize a narcissist are grandiosity, an excessive need for admiration, disregard for the feelings of others, inability to accept criticism, and an air of entitlement and superiority. They target vulnerable, empathetic people who have something they want; they are masters of manipulation. When they don't get what they want, they become epic bullies, hounding their targets into submission.

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Without really knowing what exactly I was doing or sticking a label on and then writing a character to fit the diagnosis, I have used this type of antagonist in several of my books. In some of these stories, the character is somewhere along the spectrum toward utter self-centeredness.

After all, the true full blown malignant narcissist (at least, as a fictional character) is one who seems constantly in danger of "over the top." There is, after all, a wide spectrum of human behavior and one of the first duties of a writer is to convince the reader that the story is--on some level--believable. So many of my villains are somewhere in the dark gray end of the zone, not irredeemably black.  Still, there are some terrors in these books of mine. 

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~~Juliet Waldron
Website of Juliet Waldron

Brief history of the written word - Part three and last - by Vijaya Schartz

Celtic Legends by Vijaya HERE

In the two previous parts of this article, we talked about the origins of writing in Asia, India, cuneiform writing in the Middle East, and hieroglyphic writing in Egypt, and the gradual switch from graphic representation of objects to the use of sound symbols, then letters. The first alphabet, created by the Phoenicians in the 8th century BC, was borrowed by the Greek then adapted by the Romans, and imposed through their conquest all over Europe. We now had the power of writing almost anything, any language, with an infinity of possibilities.

During the dark ages and the early Middle Ages in Europe, only the clergy, nobles, and government officials could read and write. Educating the masses was considered dangerous and sometimes evil. Only the clergy was allowed to read the Bible, for fear of misinterpretation. Most religious and political documents were penned in Latin, which, after the downfall of Rome, was still understood, if not fluently spoken, by the nobility and the literate elite throughout the Christian world. Books were handwritten in calligraphy on parchment and heavily decorated, usually by monks. These books were labor intensive, very costly, and not available to the population at large. 

The layman’s knowledge, however, was still imparted through oral tradition from elders to younger members of society. The intricacies of seasonal planting, weaving, sewing, tanning, preserving food, and other everyday activities were often condensed into how-to songs, learned in childhood and later taught to children and grandchildren. The rhyming and the melody made the task description easy to remember.

Storytellers memorized and retold in songs epic battles and important moments in history, like the song of Roland. Many African and Polynesian tribes still use song and dance to impart knowledge of historic events and storytelling. 

But the Latin alphabet also allowed writing in one’s native tongue. With the advent of commerce, trading and shipping companies required written records in everyday language. So did transmission of orders to armies far from home, and communication with conquered territories in the East during the Crusades. Hand writing on parchment spread among the higher middle class. 

In 1440, thanks to Gutenberg in Germany, and his invention of the printing press with removable characters, books could be mass-produced, and the written word became affordable. 

Soon, the Italian Renaissance saw the creation of many new schools and rich patrons financed the arts. Then Europe saw an explosion of knowledge, culture, arts, and considerable advancement of science, engineering, mathematics, and philosophy. 

Writing and designs of Leonardo da Vinci

Nowadays, most everyone can read and write and has access to books on every topic, but we are left with a different problem. We have come a long way from writing only the most important truths of our time. Writing has gone from sacred, to important, to artistic, to sometimes frivolous and trivial. 

With basic education, anyone can express thoughts and opinions about everything in writing. We are dealing with an overload of information from an infinity of individual sources. Fortunately, our sophisticated computers can handle that immense load, and when someone cusses on social media in Canada, someone in Japan can let them know it’s not okay. 😊 

Since the advent of Social Media, we also have derived other forms of written communication in abbreviations for texting, and emojis to express feelings. Universal binary language uses zeros and ones. Computers invent their own languages to communicate with each other. Someone even wrote an entire story in emoji symbols. 

I also heard that some law-makers are thinking about getting rid of cursive and lowercase in schools to keep only block letters. Can’t wait to hear my characters screaming at me in ALL CAPS. What’s next? Getting rid of punctuation? Shakespeare must be turning in his grave. 😊 

As a writer of sci-fi and fantastic legends, I predict that one day, if we do not destroy ourselves first, Earth will have only one language made up of mixed words and abbreviations and writing styles from various old countries, with one unified alphabet of simple characters everyone will understand.

alien writing on an I-beam fragment found at the Roswell crash site.

I only hope that despite this unification, we manage to keep the wonderful variety of cultures, and the colorful traditions of all the people of Earth, along with their best recipes, dances, costumes, and favorite games.

In the meantime, you are welcome to check out my books. Here is my Celtic Legend series, CURSE OF THE LOST ISLE. Find it everywhere in eBook or paperback. 

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From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse. For centuries, imbued with hereditary gifts, they hide their deadly secret, stirring passions in their wake as they fight the Viking hordes, send the first knights to the Holy Land, give birth to kings and emperors... but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.

5 stars on Amazon "Edgy Medieval. Yay!"

CURSE OF THE LOST ISLE - MEDIEVAL CELTIC LEGENDS - SERIES by Vijaya Schartz

Happy reading.

Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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Caught between two worlds—Tricia McGill

Find all my books on my Books We Love Author Page

As writers, we usually live in two worlds—the one we are creating

and the real one where we have to do the dishes and other mundane activities. Needless for me to say, I prefer the imaginary world sometimes. Currently immersed in life as they knew it in London during the blitz (1940) for my current book, I can’t help comparing those days to the weird lives we are being forced to live these days as we cope with enforced separation and the rules of self-isolation.

Just when we thought life was about to get back to normal in my part of the world things have gone back a few paces. No visitors unless they are essential for your care, no nipping out to the shops unless it is an urgent matter. Thank heaven for our TVs and computers. Imagine a world without them—and without streaming TV watched by most of the population in one way or another. I can’t imagine living without my personal choice—good old Netflix.

During WW11, radio (called a wireless back then) was the most popular form of entertainment. Many shows became popular, and quickly gained influence. Radio broadcasts were regulated by the government—as was most entertainment at the time. One popular radio program back then was Tommy Handley's “It's That Man Again”, which continued airing until 1949. Comedian Handley used radio to keep the spirits of the British population high. His last show aired on January 6^th 1949 and sadly, he passed away just three days later. 

Then there were singers like Vera Lynn, whose beautiful rendering of songs like ‘We’ll Meet Again’ gave heart to her listeners. I recall my sisters who lived through those years as young women telling me how they danced to the music of bands like Joe Loss and Oscar Rabin who played at local dance halls and gained a huge radio audience.

Thank heaven for the cinema (called the flicks in those days). I had to use a movie in my latest book that my characters saw back in 1940 and chose Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in “His Girl Friday”. Cary Grant was very popular then along with great actors like Tyrone Power, Humphrey Bogart and Jimmy Stewart. As with radio, the film industry was an important source of communication in a time when TV was unheard of. Much like media today, it was also a great means for the government to use propaganda to influence the public.

Just like recently there was a shortage of essentials, but panic buying by a selfish few didn’t bring this about—no this was because the ships carrying food and raw materials were attacked regularly. One noticeable thing when this pandemic started was that there were not so many cars on the road. Back then, most of the population didn’t possess a car but caught public transport. So we grumble because we can’t get hand sanitizer or tissues—how about living at a time when soap was rationed to 3 ounces a month, and there was no white bread available—at all.

I’m off back to that other world now—but first I might have a cup of

tea. And that’s another thing I forgot to mention, their cup of tea seemed to be a mainstay back then, even if perhaps there was a lack of sugar to sweeten it.

Please visit my web site for more on my books

The Ship's Captain - Master of a Wooden World by A.M.Westerling

Sophie's Choice, Book 1 of The Ladies of Harrington House is available at all your favorite online stores HERE.

*****

I tend to write a lot about sailing ships, captains and sea voyages. I don’t know why other than I do love the ocean and I think it has something to do with living in a landlocked city. Plus life at sea during the Regency era strikes me as being quite romantic although I’m sure the reality is that it was anything but what with cramped quarters run over with cockroaches and rats, insect infested food and brackish water!

Right now I’m working on Leah’s Surrender. Leah is Sophie's sister and my hero is Heath Trevelyan, a captain in the British Royal Navy during the French and English wars at the turn of the 19^th century. At that time, the British Navy was the largest and most powerful in the world and very proficient in fighting at sea. “Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves” was certainly an apt phrase.

Being a captain was a position of great social prestige. A captain could count on a good marriage as a result and once his days at sea were over, he might end his career as a justice of the peace of perhaps even a member of parliament. Navy officers were generally drawn from the “gentlemen class”, especially the titled or the wealthy although it wasn’t unknown for talented individuals from the middle class to also achieve that rank. Sons of peers achieved the rank of officer more quickly. Therefore, the Navy became the choice for younger brothers of the aristocracy such as Heath, who is a second son.

Captains were generally all-powerful and kept to themselves but to attract a competent crew, along with good social contacts, they also needed bravery, keen wits, experience, a fair and unprejudiced mind and of course, luck.

You wouldn't find the captain crawling in the rigging:

The quartermaster and not the captain usually took the wheel:

If you were promoted to captain, it helped to be rich. He needed credit and money to provide the necessities such as weapons, furniture for his cabin and costly braided uniforms. As well, he needed funds to buy supplies at foreign ports and to pay for enlistment bounties. These last expenses were recovered from the Navy at the end of each voyage, but it could take years to settle the accounts. Consequently, some captains found themselves promoted into debt. However, if you were born wealthy, these financial matters didn’t impact you. Of course, a single valuable prize recovered during battle might keep any officer comfortable for the rest of his life.

At sea and as a reflection of his financial status, a captain could bring whatever he liked on board. Some cabins were opulent, full of silks, art and silver, their tables spilling over with fine foods. Crew liked serving rich captains because in an effort to improve their popularity, they would provide luxury items or extra amounts of necessities, which came out of the captain’s pocket.  

Once an officer became a captain, the size of the ship determined his promotion up the ranks as well as his level of pay. His date of commission established his eventual promotion to admiral. Only his death could prevent him reaching the status of rear admiral unless he managed to get dismissed from the Navy either by manipulating the books or blatant dereliction of duty.

So all in all, things are looking promising for Captain Heath Trevelyan and Lady Leah Harrington. You can read their story in Leah’s Surrender, Book 2 of my Regency series, The Ladies of Harrington House, coming soon from BWL Publishing!