Sunday, May 15, 2022

A Return to the Moon

 

 

The Peregrine Lunar Lander (Illustration)

After a period of fifty years, America is on the verge of landing on the moon. On December 11, 1972, Apollo 17 landed in the Taurus-Littrow highlands on the moon. Now, NASA plans a non-human landing on this satellite later this year, using the Peregrine lunar lander.

In co-operation with the Pittsburgh-based company Astrobotic, the mission aims to deliver twenty-four payloads to the moon. Most will be scientific experiments, but will include commercial payloads as well as cultural messages from various people around the planet.

Originally, the Peregrine mission was scheduled to launch last year, but became rescheduled due to delays caused by the pandemic. Astrobotic CEO John Thornton sees the venture as the first step in creating a sustainable moon delivery market, being the first of many such commercial space missions.

Interestingly, one of the payloads planned for the original launch was a capsule containing the ashes and DNA of the famous science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke. The plan was to deposit it on the moon’s surface. The author, fittingly remembered for classics such as the “Space Odyssey” series and “Profiles of the Future,” is remembered for his passion for space travel. At this time, it is unclear if this plan is part of the up-coming mission or will be postponed to a future one.

This idea is the brainchild of a company call Celestis, based out of Houston, Texas.  It seems that there is a demand for final-resting places on the moon. While full burials are not possible at this time, the company has many clients interested in having small capsules containing ashes and DNA of either themselves or their loved ones interred on the moon.

As the company’s CEO Charles Chafer told Space.com, “our Luna Service is among the most popular, as it affords families and friends the permanence of an off-planet service and provides a constant reminder in the night sky of a loved one’s final resting place.”

Amen.


Mohan Ashtakala (www.mohanauthor.com) is the author of "The Yoga Zapper," a fantasy, and "Karma Nation," a literary romance. He is published by Books We Love Inc. (www.bookswelove.com)







Saturday, May 14, 2022

Goodbye but not forgotten...by Sheila Claydon


Find my books here

When Many a Moon, the final book of my Mapleby Memories trilogy is published on 1 June, I will definitely be celebrating. Writing it has been a challenge but along the way I've learned a lot - about how to manage writer's block, about the thirteenth century in England, about working in an hotel, about the housekeeping duties at a country club, and most of all about how we all carry some of the past with us in our genes and hidden deep within our our ancestral memories.

How did this all start? How did this picture of a derelict building become Many a Moon?



It started with a holiday, sleepy companions, a dog, and an early morning walk. Anyone who has a dog knows that a morning walk, or at least a trip outside, is a necessity. On holiday with friends and a husband who all voted for more sleep and a late breakfast, the dog and I decided we would do our own early morning thing and go exploring. The dog, naturally, opted for somewhere he could be off lead, so we set off for the patch of woodland we could see from our holiday cottage. 

Unbeknownst to me and the dog, the far side of the long strip of woodland marched along the perimeter of a golf course, and the view was spectacular. On that particular morning, however, the only other thing we saw was a large iron statue of a stag. It was a startling find in the middle of a deserted wood and the dog felt obliged to bark at it. Long and loudly! Fortunately the cottages were out of earshot so only the birds and hidden woodland creatures heard him. That walk set a pattern for the rest of our holiday, however. Each morning we would leave the rest of the household sleeping and climb the hill to what, early in the morning, felt like our very own piece of woodland. 

We ventured further each day and then, when we had explored every path and glade we climbed down some rough wooden steps to the golf course below and began to walk around the edge of the nearest green. And that's when we saw it. The old mill!  Except that we didn't know it was a mill then. To us it just looked like a derelict cottage. However, several years later when we returned for another holiday, someone had fixed a blue plaque next to the gaping doorway that stated it had been a functioning grain mill in the thirteenth century. Of course I took a photo, several in fact. Then I stored them away with the rest of my numerous holiday and travel snaps and almost forgot about them. 

Almost but not quite. It was too intriguing. How was it still standing? Who had worked there? Why was it at the edge of a wood, far away from any useful road? And if it was a grain mill, where was the mill pond and the river that fed it? There was a muddy ditch, narrow enough to step across but nothing else, and surely the building wasn't big enough to store grain. Hadn't I read somewhere that mills were often next to bake houses? The questions never ended but I had nowhere to put the answers until I needed a final story for Mapleby Memories. Then everything fell into place because the curtain between the past and the present is gossamer thin in Mapleby as anyone who has read the first two books, Remembering Rose and Loving Ellen, will know.

This was all I needed to be able to travel back to the thirteenth century and immerse myself in its history and culture, and what a journey it has been, for me, and for Ellie and Will the main protagonists of the story. And for all my other characters who live in Mapleby as well because that's the thing when writing a series about a particular place. The characters intertwine, children grow older, jobs develop, friendship circles widen and it all has to be woven together in the story. So most of the characters in the first two books have walk on parts in Many a Moon.

Now the book is finished and about to be published, saying goodbye to them is almost like saying goodbye to old friends. Or children growing up and leaving the nest! I do know one thing though. When I next visit the old mill at the edge of the wood, and I will, the memory of the story will still be there. I will still be able to look out across the golf course and imagine modern day Will riding across it on his red tractor mower, the same as I will be able to imagine thirteenth century Ellen laughing and throwing sticks for her dog. They will always be with me the same as all the characters in my other books. 

And here's a taster:

......Before I could answer her I heard somebody call my name. The voice floated up from below. “Ellen, it’s ready now. Drat the girl, where…” The rest of the sentence was swallowed by a sudden gust of wind as a slim figure with two long brown plaits bouncing on her shoulders ran into a stone building at the foot of the hill.

Telling myself I really must remember that there were a lot of other women called Ellen in the world, I pointed. “Is that another chalet?”

She laughed. “No, it’s not. Come on, I’ll show you.”

We clambered down steep wooden steps built into a wooded slope and the closer we got to the bottom of the hill the louder the noise became. At first I couldn’t think what it was, then I realized it was a fast flowing river. There was another noise too. A creaking sound that I couldn’t identify. As the only way to make it to the bottom of the hill was in single file clinging onto a knobbly wooden handrail, Joanne didn’t elaborate further until we were on the grass at the edge of the golf course. Then she beckoned me to follow her along a narrow path, pushing some spindly saplings out the way until we reached a sun dappled clearing. I looked at the scene in front of me in confusion. Where was the river? Where was the building? I was too busy being confused to hear what Joanne was saying. Her concern brought me to my senses. 

“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine. I guess the climb down made me lightheaded. After years working in a city I’m not used to real fresh air the same as I’m not used to quiet.”

“A week or two living here will soon sort you out. In the meantime let me introduce you to the old mill. It’s not, as you can see, exactly suitable for a chalet.”

She was right, and I joined in with her laughter. Inside though, my stomach churned. What had just happened? Why had I seen someone called Ellen run into this derelict and almost roofless building? And why had I heard the rush of a fast flowing river when there was just a shallow ditch, dry now but probably muddy when it rained?

Joanne was too busy telling me about the mill to notice my confusion. “It was built sometime in the twelfth or thirteenth century when Mapleby was very different from the sleepy village it is today. I’m not even sure why the country club is named after it because nobody knows  anything at all about its history.” 

As we retraced our steps, I saw we were standing on the very edge of one of the greens. “What was here before the golf course?” I asked her. 

She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Probably fields or maybe a farm. 

Friday, May 13, 2022

The Terrace Players

 


Thanks to some wonderful community theater actors here in Vermont (we have a history of knowing how to entertain ourselves), I am now part of the Terrace Players.

Who are we?

We're a group of friends and neighbors who support local authors by giving reader's theater presentations of scenes from our novels. 

The Terrace Players read at the Flat Iron Coffee House in Bellows Falls, Vermont

It started out of necessity. My friend and fellow author Bill had a bout with throat cancer that left his voice damaged, and so he was not able to do public readings of his novels. His friends in the local theater community came to the rescue and volunteered to read for him. When I learned of this generous group of actors, I asked to join and participate, and the Terrace Players (named after the street where both Bill and I live) was born.

We have grown since and now include a beloved local librarian and former radio announcer.

Where do we perform? At Vermont's treasured collection of independent bookstores, at libraries, on local radio and TV stations. It's great fun, and our audiences like hearing interpretations of our stories, and they learn about what inspired our writing. We help local businesses sell their books, donuts, cake and coffee! Out local TV station now has offered to help us turn our books into audio books using their community sound facilities and library of sound effects. The circle of generosity continues.

Authors...I'd suggest you'd give this a try. It is not a great time commitment to actors-- we have one or two read-through sessions before each event.  We now have luncheons and tea parties after rehearsals and performances, so we are becoming social friends. And nobody has to memorize a thing. It's a service you local communities and businesses and helps us sell our books-- a win/win for all!




 

Thursday, May 12, 2022

Bouchercon World Mystery Convention

                                      Please click this link for author and book information

This winter Tourism Calgary sent me an email out-of-the-blue. They explained they were considering a  bid for the 2026 Bouchercon World Mystery Convention and wanted my help connecting with the Calgary writing community. The bid needed sufficient volunteer support to host this major convention. Tourism Calgary had done an internet search for local mystery writers and my name popped up in various places. They thought the convention could have numerous spinoff benefits for Calgary.  

I'd first heard about Bouchercon at Mystery Writers' INK, a Calgary writing group I belonged to for many years. Members considered it the premiere mystery writing convention in North America. A couple of them attended Bouchercon 2007 in Anchorage, Alaska. They described their experience as a fun mix of learning, book promotion, and travel. Many Bouchercon regulars plan annual holidays around the convention. 

I was excited by the email and agreed to meet online with two Tourism Calgary contacts, and later with them and the Bouchercon administrator. I learned that Bouchercon is huge. Typically about 1,800 people attend. The majority are mystery fans, rather than writers. Bouchercon is usually held in the USA, although Toronto, Canada, has hosted three times and the U.K. twice. In London 1990, P.D. James was Guest of Honour. Nottingham England's Lifetime Achievement Guest of Honour in 1995 was Ruth Rendell (not Robin Hood). Other Guests of Honour through the years have included Sara Paretsky, Ian Rankin, Harlan Coben, Laura Lippman, James Patterson, Michael Connolly, Anne Perry, Karin Slaughter, Anthony Horowitz -- enough name dropping. 

In October 2017, I attended Bouchercon Toronto. Louise Penny was Canadian Guest of Honour. (Each Boucherson has about a half dozen Guests of various descriptions). I moderated a panel on Noir Mystery Novels to a large audience (scary, both the moderator role and the subject matter). Each convention produces a short story anthology, with the proceeds going to a charity. A highlight for me was my story's acceptance in Passport to Murder, Bouchercon Anthology 2017. This earned me a seat at the author signing table.  


The Bouchercon administrator told us their organization provides a wealth of support and experience for host cities, but, in addition, Calgary would require a strong Local Organizing Committee. I provided Tourism Calgary with names of people and local groups to contact, including BWL. Our publisher, Jude Pittman, was instantly on board and will be part of the committee. Tourism Calgary sent a survey to local writers and organizations and the enthusiastic response exceeded everyone's expectations. Calgary is called the volunteer capital of Canada for good reason. The Calgary Public Library, Calgary Wordfest, and the University of Calgary expressed interest in playing roles.   

Tourism Calgary is now preparing a formal bid to host the convention in 2026. In June the Bouchercon administrator will fly to Calgary to assess the city's hotel and convention capacity. If it meets the criteria, I'm told Calgary stands a great chance of winning the bid when the Bouchercon board votes this summer. 

Since I've been with them from the start, Tourism Calgary asked me to chair the Local Organizing Committee. After some angst, I agreed to co-chair with Calgary author Pamela McDowell, my friend for 25 years. Pam and I will be busy, but it will be fun to work together on this big project. 

Looks like Calgary mystery writers and readers are in for exciting years ahead. Stay tuned.     


Bouchercon 2017 was an opportunity to visit Toronto in the fall. 




 

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Who Do You Trust, a Cow or a Scientist? By Karla Stover

 

    

To purchase books by Karla Stover click this link

 In 1813, French scientist Michel Eugene Chevreul discovered a new fatty acid which he dubbed acide margarique, named, in part, after the “pearly deposits in the fatty acid, “margarites” being the Greek word for “pearly.”

 

     Enter French chemist Hippolyte Mège-Mouriès. In 1869, working with Chevreul’s discovery, perfected and patented a process for churning beef tallow with milk to create an acceptable butter substitute. Napoleon III, seeing that both his poorer subjects and his navy would benefit from having easy access to a cheap butter substitute, offered a prize for anyone who could create an adequate replacement. Mège-Mouriès won.

 

     Despite Napoleon III’s high hopes for Mège-Mouriès’ product, which the scientist had dubbed “oleomargarine,” the market didn’t really take off.  Not to be deterred, Mège-Mouriès showed his process to a Dutch company called Jurgens. The CEOs realized that if margarine was going to become a butter substitute, it needed to look more authentic, so they began changing margarine’s naturally white color to a buttery yellow.

 

     Mège-Mouriès didn’t get much for his invention and died a pauper in 1880. Jurgens, however, did pretty well for itself. It eventually became a world-renowned maker of margarine and later became a part of Unilever.

    

     Margarine arrived in the United States in the 1870s, to the happy approval of the poor, and to the universal horror of American dairy farmers. Within ten years, 37 companies in the United States enthusiastically manufactured it. The terms “margarine” and “butter” had become fighting words.

 

     In 1886 the Federal Margarine Act slapped a special two-cent tax on margarine and required annual license fees. Margarine  producers were forced to pay $600 a year; wholesalers, $480; and retailers, $48, simply to be allowed to sell the product. “An amendment in 1902 targeted the production of artificially yellowed margarine, imposed a ten-cent tax on (butter-colored) margarine and slashed the tax on the uncolored variety.” 

 

    

     Maine, Michigan, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Ohio went a step further and banned margarine outright. In fact, the Wisconsin law stayed on the books until 1967, which lead to the introduction of clandestine “margarine runs” that friends and neighbors set up. Every couple of weeks they’d send one person over the border to purchase margarine for all of them and illegally transport it back across the state line.

    

     In June 1886, Washington State passed a bill in the House to regulate the manufacture and sale of “all substances made of oleomargarine, oleomargarine oil, butterine which was butter mixed with a little Oleomargarine to improve flavor, suine which was a mixture of oleomargarine with lard or other fatty ingredients, lardine, an agricultural import from Germany, and all lard extracts, tallow extracts, and compounds of tallow, beef, fat, suet, lard and lard oil, vegetable oil, coloring matter, intestinal fat, and offal fat,” which were disguised as and sold as butter.

 

     An article in the 7-22-1886 Tacoma Daily Ledger claimed “the butterine vat was a graveyard of compounded diseases putrefied into carrion.”

 

     At this time, Washington had a State Dairy commissioner named E. A. McDonald. And when he wasn’t approving cheese factories or visiting farms to kill tubercular cattle, he was haunting cheap restaurants looking for fake butter and the people selling it, and seizing what he found. However, he recognized that local dairy farmers were only able to provide about 2 / 3 of homemakers’ demands. The use of oleo was on the rise.

 

     By the early 1890s, the country was in the middle of a Depression. Businessman J. A. Sproule recognized that Butterine and other substitutes for butter kept longer than the real thing. And one person was making good use of Butterine. His name was Jim Wardner who had been a store keeper in South Dakota until a fire wiped him out. Not to be deterred, he borrowed $5,000, had eggs shipped from the east and began peddling them in mining camps. He then used his profits to buy Butterine which he also peddled until a heat wave melted what he hadn’t sold and the Butterine separated into puddles of cottonseed oil, lard, Vaseline and coloring. So as not to waste his investment, he sold the puddles as industrial grease.

 

     During W W I, the cost of oil more than doubled driving up the price of oleo. During W W II butter was rationed because most cooking oils came from Pacific lands conquered by the Japanese; the supply plummeted. Fats were also needed in high quantities for industrial and military use. For the homemaker, butter used a higher number of ration-book points than margarine, so “oleo” margarine became more popular.

 

   Lard was removed from rationing on March 3, 1944 and shortening and oils on April 19, 1944, but butter and margarine were rationed until November 23, 1945. Until 1952, white oleo, came with a packet of yellow food coloring to be kneaded in.

 

   Gradually, states allowed the sale of yellow oleo. However, a reluctant Washington held out until December 4, 1952, becoming the 44th state to all allow the sale of yellow oleo.

 

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

Introducing BWL Author Barbara Baker

 


 Visit my BWL Author Page for Details and Purchase Information

 

          Hi, my name is Barbara Baker

 

This is my first blog attempt. I hope you enjoy it.

As a writer, how often have you been told ‘write about what you know’? All the time, right? Well, it bit me in the butt when I wrote my first YA novel, SUMMER OF LIES.

I went to school in Banff during the 60s and 70s. It was a sleepy little town back then - not the iconic vacation destination it is today. My dad was a National Park Warden. In the winter he was on the ski hills assessing snow conditions for the public’s safety. The rest of the year he was in the park’s backcountry to monitor the wildlife, ensure predators stayed away from the townsite, and he kept hiking trails accessible. Dad was lucky to have a job he loved.



As kids, when we weren’t in school, he would take us to work so Mom could have a break. I remember one February when teachers went on strike. It was a huge snow year, and we skied every day with Dad on Mt. Norquay … way more fun than math and English class. Each morning we were the first ones down the runs. Getting first tracks in powder snow is a skier’s dream. What an epic month.



We lived east of the Banff Park Gates in Harvie Heights, a place so small you couldn’t find it on an Alberta map for many years. A cluster of houses in the middle of the woods. No street lights. No curfews. Parents knew where their kids were by the sound of pucks ricocheting off the boards at the rink, bats smacking baseballs or frenzied shouts in the dark during enthusiastic games of kick the can.



Horseback riding, hiking, playing in the woods - it was what I did to kill time when I wasn’t in school because the tiny black and white tv only came on when my parents watched Hockey Night in Canada, Walt Disney or The Beachcombers. Remember those days? When kids weren’t allowed to operate the family tv? As an adult, I now realize how fortunate I was to have such an amazing backyard to grow up in but as a kid, it was just where I grew up, nothing special.



Fast forward 4 decades (2008ish), I was riding on a chairlift with my tenacious niece chatting about a book series we were reading. I asked her what type of book she’d write. She said she’d write an adventure story about Banff and the cool spots we’ve hiked or discovered. We discussed conflicts we’d put our characters through. It started as a joke and since she was still in high school, it was my job to write the book.



In my YA novel, SUMMER OF LIES, I take a teen from Toronto, Jillian, and plunk her in a one room log cabin in the wilderness of Banff National Park. She has to spend a month there with her aunt who happens to be a park warden (write about what you know). As Jillian describes it, I put her in the middle of bloody nowhere and staying there for a month was not on her agenda. Jillian has to navigate her way on trails I’ve travelled and also down the streets of Banff which are so familiar to me.



When you start your story, do you write about what you know? Or do you create new worlds? Where do your stories take the reader?

 

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

Summer of Lies - YouTube

Smashwords – About Barbara Baker, author of 'Summer of Lies'

Barbara Wackerle Baker | Facebook

Barbara Wackerle Baker (@bbaker.write)

 

 

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