Whisk(e)y -- with an 'e' or not?

                                     

                                      Please click this link to learn about the author and her books

When I heard that BWL Publishing planned to publish a series of Canadian historical mystery novels, I was eager to get involved. In 2021, I wrote a mystery short story set in my home city, Calgary, Alberta, during the second and deadliest wave of the 1918 influenza pandemic. I showed the story to a writer-in-residence, who suggested I turn it into a novel. This intrigued me, but I polished the short story and submitted it to the Crime Writers of Canada 40th anniversary anthology. My story, A Deadly Flu, was accepted and published last spring in Cold Canadian Crime. 

But BWL's plan prompted me to consider how I could expand my 4,500 word story into a 75,000 word novel. I mulled ideas and decided I'd add three new characters to the story: two suspects and female protagonist, Catherine. I'd still keep my original detective protagonist as a secondary narrator. He and Catherine would both have personal story arcs, including a romantic subplot. WWI would also feature more prominently in the novel, as the story built to the November 11th Armistice. 

Confident these additions would give the story sufficient fodder for a novel, I asked BWL if I could write one of the books. The concept for the BWL Canadian Historical Mystery Series is that twelve different authors or author-pairs would write novels set in our ten Canadian provinces and two of our territories. Authors would have free rein over what to write, as long as the novel features a crime, takes place during a real historical time period, and is 70,000-80,000 words to keep the book sizes uniform. BWL assigned me the story set in my home province of Alberta.

The series will be published over a period of almost two years. Since I won't have time to start writing my novel before this summer, I asked for the last publication date, December 2024.  The first  Canadian Historical Mystery comes out this month. Rum Bullets and Cod Fish by H. Paul Doucette, set in Nova Scotia, sounds like roaring fun. "The year is 1924 and Prohibition is spawning a new breed of criminal." An undercover investigator tracks the ringleaders illegally transporting liquor to the US mob. 

Since BWL is promoting the whole series right away, they asked each author to provide a title, story blurb, and suggestions for cover images. Luckily, I have a framework for my novel -- my short story and my ideas for expansion. From this, I came up with a blurb. I also needed a new title. My short story title, A Deadly Flu, was a wink at my first novel,  A Deadly Fall. For a novel I'd want something to distinguish the two books. Words like dead, murder, kill, secrets, and their variations are popular for mystery titles. I also find concrete nouns in titles conjure strong images. The weapon in my story is whisky laced with a lethal drug. I settled on a title, A Killer Whisky.

During this process, I discovered a potential problem with the word 'whisky.' Ireland and the USA spell whiskey with an 'e,' unlike Canada and the rest of the world. My research suggests this might have  been due to Ireland's desire to distinguish its whiskey from Scottish whisky. Did Canada adopt the Scottish spelling because many of our early explorers and fur trade merchants came from Scotland, while whiskey became popular in the US with waves of Irish immigration? That's my best guess. 

I debated changing my title to one that wouldn't confuse American readers, or using US spelling, or making the poisoned drink a non-spelling-controversial liquor, like rum. But whisky is so concrete that I can almost smell it when I hear the word. It's also infamous in western Canadian history. Our fur trade is often called the whisky trade, which caused alcoholism problems for indigenous people. In the end, I decided to stay with whisky and Canadian spelling. Early in the novel, I'll have a character point out the difference between the countries, so US readers won't think I can't spell. 

For images, I suggested  a bottle or glass of whisky, as well as a piano. I plan to start the novel with my protagonist playing the instrument and music will feature through the story. Michelle Lee, BWL's cover designer, worked with my suggestions and created a stunning cover. I love the golden whisky colour against the black background. I can hear the clashing chord as the glass hits the piano keys. The glass of whisky stops the music, like murder.  

 

    

       

                      

 

Hidden in Plain Sight by Karla Stover

 

When I had my radio show and newspaper column, I was always looking for something interesting to share. One day I was browsing through old news papers and I came across a local woman who had become a camouflage artist during World War I. The article was so interesting, I read everything I could find about the Women's Reserve Camouflage Corps. which gave the nucleus for my next book.

Camouflage was developed in France  by artists such as  Lucien-Victor Guirand de Scevola, all of whom loved its theatrical nature. By1914 they experimented in attempts to hide military personnel, actions on the battlefields and the battlefields themselves. In 1917, a British artist named Norman Wilkinson came up with the idea to disguise ships by painting them with  optical illusions. His proposal to the Royal Navy was accepted and at his studio five designers began creating designs.  Eleven female artists went to work and between spring 1917 and autumn 1918 had "razzle dazzled", as the technique was called, more than 2,300 ships.  

Meanwhile, in the United States, it was becoming increasingly apparent that the U.S. would be entering the war. As a result, the Women's Reserve Camouflage Corps" was created. It was a "specialized unit of American female artists" tasked to "design and test camouflage techniques for the military." Before camouflage clothing came along, some soldiers rubbed mud on their clothing or painted their uniforms with splotches and lines.  But now, women were creating clothing that resembled the landscape, and that included suits resembling rocks or tree trunks for use by snipers. They help make fake tree limbs, fake trees, and disguises for equipment. Need to draw the fire, Put a phony head where the enemy could see it. While serving as a Second Lieutenant of Engineers in France, an American named Homer Saint Guadens saw how cotton for blankets was in short supply, and found a way to make blankets by recycling paper. The patterns created soon led to using green, brown or grey on the material. Snipers and scouts hid underneath one and inched along the ground. 

Behind enemy lines women made nets out of wire up to 37 feet long out of wire and fishnet to drape over tanks and conceal them from enemy aircraft. They made garlands out of green burlap to hang from trees and painted to disguise giant umbrellas. Their ages ranged from 14 to 65. 

As for the Tacoma girl, after the war she married a banker and lived in the Midwest. But she didn't forget her Puget Sound roots and endowed a building at a local seminary. I have plenty to work with. Now, will someone please crack a whip under me.

.

He’s Determined to Ski Again – Barbara Baker

 

In 1937, when Dad was five-years-old, he learned to ski in his hometown, Partenkirchen, Germany. His first pair of skis were handmade. 

Years later when he started racing, he crashed while training and broke his femur. He said it was hours before ski patrollers found him because he’d flown off the course and into the trees.

While he was in the hospital, with his leg in traction and strapped to a sky hook, bombs shook the building. Nurses ran through the ward shouting for patients to get under their beds. Dad laughs when he tells the story and says all he could do was put a pillow over his head.

Dad has skied all his life but took a two-year hiatus when he was 88 years old so he could have a long-over-due knee replacement. After the surgery, he exercised. He walked. He exercised some more. He was determined to ski again.

On January 10, 2023, we arrived at the Mt. Norquay ski resort, outside of Banff, well before the lifts opened. I forced myself to slow down - my walking, my talking (I can be a chatterbox). I wanted to focus on Dad and be helpful without him asking.

Boots on, skis on, poles in hand, we headed to the beginner hill. I stayed beside him as he tested out sliding and then climbing up the slope. Each time he climbed a bit higher.

Snow plow turns first. Then the stem christie maneuver. The parallel turns proved to be trickier. Dad’s new knee worked just fine and the leg slid nicely into place. But the old knee, which was used to being in charge for decades, was pushy and uncooperative. It rushed ahead of the uphill ski and Dad would have to stop to reposition himself.

After a few equipment adjustments and more practice, Dad was ready to go up the lift.

“Can you ask the liftie to slow it down?” he said as we got our tickets scanned at the Cascade chairlift.

I took a breath and gave a silent prayer to whomever was listening.

“Can you please slow it down,” I said to the lift operator. “He’s ninety. Testing out his new knee.”

“No problem,” the Aussie accented girl replied. “Just wave to the operator at the top and he’ll slow it down again for you to get off.”

“Perfect.”

The chair swung around and scooped us up. Dad scanned the run. He was quiet. So was I. As we got to the last tower I waved at the guy in the hut. He flagged a thumbs up. I nodded.

“I don’t know if I can stand,” Dad said.

I moved right next to him and squeezed his bicep. “I’ll just shuck you off if you can’t get up.”

He laughed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

 After an uneventful exit we stood at the top and looked down the run. Dad nodded and slid his skis back and forth. Away he went. Again, I held my breath and followed but not too close. I didn’t want to rush him.

It took a few runs but soon his perfect parallel turns, quiet body and graceful carving cut across and down the slope.

The smile on his face, the sweat dripping down his cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes made all my fears and angst melt away.

He did it. Dad skied again.

Watch Dad ski again:  Dad Skiing Again - 90 years young - YouTube

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

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

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

How to Make a Killing Writing Murder Mystery by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    So if you've been keeping track of the Books We Love Website (which... if you haven't, why not?) then you know that the upcoming Canadian Historical Mystery Series is on its way! My book, entitled Twice Hung, is the tenth book in this exciting new venture, and I am excited to tell you a little bit about it. 

It's a murder mystery. 

    No, but seriously, it will be one of the first serious mystery novels that I've wrote, and while I've been doing a ton of research on how to create some good mystery, I have come across a few tips I thought I'd share with ya'll because... well, I luv ya all a bit! 

I was going to pick meme that highlighted how much I loved my blog readers but... 
this meme was way more me...

So NUMBER ONE!

The Victim: Yeah, they may not be around much, but they are still very important to the story. Whether or not your mystery started with their untimely demise, it's important to know about the events that led up to it. Who was your victim and why did someone want them dead? Why were they in the wrong place at the wrong time, and/or what was their relationship to the killer? What is also important was their character. Did they have it coming, or should we sympathize with the newly dead? 

TWO!

The Murderer: This may be the most interesting character in your story, after the main protagonist. Knowing who they are is essential in creating not only a great story, but one that keep readers turning pages. I love gray area people, and by that I mean creating characters (not just antagonists) with a bunch of flaws. I believe its a key to being human and gives writers a way to allow their protagonists to overcome personal obstacles. How is the murderer similar to the protagonist? How are they different? Do we sympathize with them at all? Keep your reader guessing. 

THREE! 

Red Herrings: Mysteries are the most fun when there are plenty of twists involved. However, that sometimes means keeping one step ahead of your readers. Subtle hints are key, but give too many and they may guess the end before it comes. Think George R. R. Martin and Jon Snow... (Maybe that's the REAL reason he hasn't finished the books, because everyone had already guessed the ending.)

FOUR!

Foreshadowing: As mentioned above, suble keys are great, especially when you finally get to the "Ah ha!" moment. If the ending doesn't make sense, or seems out of left field, it's probably because it is, and because you didn't leave enough puzzle pieces for the reader to collect. This can really make or break a mystery for me, because if the ending doesn't seem justified, it just makes me think that the author was too dumb to outsmart me and if that's the case then... wow... really?

... it's possible...

 FIVE!

Beta Readers: Get someone else to read your book when you are done. This applies to anything you write, but is especially important for mystery novels. It's hard to know if the clues you left behind were sufficient or way too obvious, but for a beta reader, they can tell you if they saw the ending from a mile away, or if it didn't pack enough punch. 

So that's it. My sure fire way to create a mystery novel. I'm sure there are way more tips, but these were my integral five. Twice Hung will be out next year, and I am so excited! In the meantime, check out the cover image, and head on over to Books We Love to discover more about the series and read some super exciting blurbs! 

Cheers! 

  

Winter by J. S. Marlo

 

Wounded Hearts

"Love & Sacrifice #2"

is now available  

click here 

 

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

     Before I published my first novel, I wrote stories for fun and posted them on a fanfic website. Many of these early stories took place in winter. Why winter? Because I'm Canadian and I live in the north. I have four seasons: Spring (lasts 1 month), Summer (lasts 3 months), Fall (last 2 months), and Winter (last 6 months). So, I spend half the year in the snow and the cold.

In one of these fun stories, my character was forced to drive in a snowstorm without winter tires. Needless to say, he ended up in a ditch. After reading that story, a reader sent me a message asking me what were winter tires, and why we didn't put 'normal' tires on our cars in Canada. I told her that winter tires look like 'normal' tires but they have a higher natural rubber content to keep them supple in cold weather and deeper & thicker treads, allowing for better grip and handling on snow and ice.

She lived in a part of the world where it's always warm, so she didn't understand how snow, ice, and cold could affect our lives differently. It was the start of a long conversation about car accessories: winter tires, studs, chains, winter wipers, block heaters, battery blankets... then houses: triple windows, insulated attics, basements, furnaces...

Looking back, I learned a lot from the exchange. I realized just because I knew about certain things didn't mean everyone else did. Sentences like "it's cold out" or "there are northern lights in the sky" doesn't mean anything to someone who'd never felt cold or seen northern lights.

As a result, I learned to become more descriptive, to look at a scene through my characters' eyes as if they were seeing it for the first time, and to assume that at least one of my readers will never have experienced what my characters see, hear, feel, sense, or smell.

Happy Reading & Stay Safe! J.S.

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

All the Furs and Feathers by Eileen O'Finlan

 

Click here for purchase information

I am super excited to annouce the release of my new novel, All the Furs and Feathers Book 1 in the Cat Tales series!

All the Furs and Feathers is the story of two cat sisters, Smokey and Autumn Amelia. Smokey is an architect working for Fluffington ArCATechture. Autumn Amelia is a chef savant. When Smokey get the assignment of her dreams to design Faunaburg's first ever cat park, she quickly realizes it could turn into her worst nightmare. The land parcel for the park is adjacent to Rodent Way. Given the long-standing animosity between felines and rodents this can only spell trouble. She'll need the help of her adorably quirky sister to convince the rodents that the cats' good intentions are for real.

I'm often asked what age group best suits All the Furs and Feathers. Middle graders and up would certainly understand and enjoy it. However, I actually wrote it with adults in mind. Several years ago I was a member of an online community where all participants were cats. Each member's cat had its own page with pictures and a link to that cat's diary if they chose to keep one. The cats could all friend each other, send each other virtual gifts, and message each other. Very popular were the threads in which cats got together for virtual parties, trips, games, and weddings. Most of the humans behind the cats were adults. And we had a blast! Some folks who were good at photoshop would put the cats in clothes and include pictures of them in the threads. My Smokey even got married on the site. It was these people I had in mind as I wrote the story. So, while I will be thrilled to hear that kids are enjoying the book, I am also very gratified by the many adults I've heard from who are delighting in it as well.

If you're wondering what a cat wedding is like, here's a picture of Smokey's:

A newspaper article inspired the protagonist in Deadly Ties by Jay Lang

Deadly Ties

Jay Lang

Click this link to purchase book

http://bookswelove.net/lang-jay/

     I was inspired to create the protagonist, Mila, after reading a newspaper article about a woman who was an adult child of an alcoholic and her challenging journey to find closure.

Chapter One

      Opening the door in the dead of night, I felt a rush of icy wind seconds before the killers appeared from the darkness

* * * 

A chilly morning wind gusts through the open car deck, almost causing me to lose my balance. Just as I reach the bottom of the metal stairwell, a distorted voice breaks through the overhead speakers. It’s the captain, informing passengers that a pod of Orca has been spotted off the starboard side.

Pushing against the wind, I make my way to the railing and look over the churning, grey water just in time to spot a large dorsal fin breaching the surface. Tourists quickly gather and shove to get the best vantage point for taking pictures.

After a few quick moments, the whales disappear and the onlookers slowly disperse. I lean over the railing and watch the whitecaps on the growing swells while we head into rougher seas. As the shorelines disappear, the wind picks up and mists of seawater spray over me. I continue to look out over the water, entranced by the pattern of the rolling waves. Though I get cold and wet from the saltwater spray, I don’t return to my car until the Departure Bay dock comes into view.

The farther the ship gets from the mainland, the more apprehensive and resentful I feel about going back to a place I fought so hard to leave.

I haven’t been home for a long time. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again, especially since Mom died. She was the go-between, the mediator between him and me. Over the years, I opted for self preservation. Instead of visiting, I sent the obligatory card whenever a holiday or birthday rolled around. Yet, here I am in my late twenties, subjecting myself once more to the bullshit I escaped from.

The ferry docks, and as I drive over the noisy metal ramp onto solid ground, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut.

I knew this day would eventually come. Years ago, when Mom was still alive, Dad was diagnosed with a carcinoid tumor in his lower intestine. From what his care nurse tells me, the cancer has now spread to his stomach and lungs, and as gruff and emotionally arrested he is, I know my mom would’ve wanted me to help him in his final days.

Dark angry clouds hang overhead as a strong wind pushes against the body of my old Honda Accord, making it challenging to handle on the open highway. Despite this, the drive to Ladysmith goes by too quickly. Before I know it, I’m turning onto Brenton Page Road.

A few minutes down the road, I pull over so I can take a few steadying breaths. I remind myself that it’s better to sacrifice time now than live with the guilt of not helping the cantankerous old codger.

I listen to a couple of Neil Young songs while gripping the steering wheel. Then, feeling as mentally prepared as I can, I pull back onto the road.

After I pass the tall white inn, I turn down the narrow, winding road toward the beach. When I come to the clearing, I see the half-dozen row of waterfront cabins just up from the shore. I park, get out of the car and stand, looking out over the sea.

I wrote this paragraph after going on vacation and seeing this exact image and thinking it would be a great visual for this scene.

      When I was a child, I would wait until my mom was asleep, then I’d take off my clothes and tiptoe out to the beach. Standing naked under the stars by the glistening sea, the cool wind dancing around my body. It made me feel alive… a part of everything.

The Cinderella Princess. Anne Stuart Future Queen of England 1702-1714 Part Two by Rosemary Morris

 

To find out more about Rosemary's stories click on the cover.

Author’s Note. At heart I am a historian. Before I begin writing a #classi#historical#omance I research the background. I hope you will enjoy this month’s insider blog based on my notes.

Princess Anne was six years old when her mother died in 1671. Her father, James, Duke of York, had taken the unpopular decision to become a Roman Catholic. Her uncle, the childless King Charles II, knew politics demanded his heirs, Anne and her elder sister, Mary, were Protestants. He appointed Lady Frances Villiers, a committed Anglican, as their governess and leased Richmond Palace, where his nieces would live, to Frances and her husband.

The princesses benefited from country air and were privileged to live by the Thames at a time when, due to bad roads, the river was important.

Anne’s indulgent father visited his daughters regularly, showered them with gifts and often stayed for several nights at Richmond Palace. Yet all was not well with the family. In 1673, the Test Act excluded anyone who did not take communion in the Anglican Church from public office, James was forced to resign as Lord High Admiral and give up his other official positions. In an era with fervent religious allegiances, I wonder what effect religious controversy had on Anne, a stubborn child.

What did she think when her father married fifteen year old Mary of Braganza? History relates James was captivated by his bride. Looking at a copy of her portrait, I’m not surprised. She was tall with a good figure, jet black hair, a fair skin, and large eyes her contemporaries at court described as ‘full of sweetness and light’. The proud bridegroom introduced his new wife to his daughters as a ‘playmate’. Anne formed a bond, not with her stepmother, whose children would be raised in the Roman Catholic faith, but with vivacious Sarah Churchill, who would have a profound influence on Anne.

Granddaughter of tragic King Charles 1 how would her life develop?

* * *

Rosemary Morris’#classic#historical#romance fiction set in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign 1702-1714

 

Far Beyond Rubies

Tangled Love

The Captain and The Countess

The Viscount and The Orphan

 With firmly closed bedroom doors, the reader can relish the details of emerging romances.

 

* * *

To purchase my novels choose an online click onto the book cover to choose an online bookstore at https:bwlpublishing.ca/morris-rosemary.

Unlikely Love Lines by Julie Christen

Look for all the love lines in your life, as well as the ones you will read in Nokota Voices coming in April.

Check out my BWL Author page

Julie Christen Author Page 

Unlikely Love Lines by Julie Christen

  When I stop to think about it

       love lines surround me     every day. Appearing in 

unlikely places. They smack me in the face. Or go unnoticed. 

    All shapes and sizes. All intents and purposes. Soft and silent. 

  Laugh out loud or lamenting. Shy or certain.  

                       Quiet or clarion. Day in, day out.

                                 They all say love. 

If I listen.

From Nokota Voices:

  Hike up your big girl panties and quit the waterworks, said my dead grandma.

    

  Prairie’s patient, golden gaze said, “You are not alone.” 

  

 “Paisley, we try to live a simple life here. Sustain ourselves as best we can. 

 In the meantime, we attempt to do good things.” She looked at me square on. 

 “What are you good for?” (Aunt Bert)

From My Love:

  

   "Yes, Honey. I will build you an outhouse."

   "Thanks for not being a pain in the ass."

   "I'm not going anywhere."

From Me to My Love:

  

   A packed lunch every morning.  

   "Yes, Honey. Let's go to the hay auction, again."

   "Let me read to you."

From My Friends:

  

   "I miss you."

   Silence, together.

   Laughing 'til our faces hurt.

From My Pets:

  

   My little Paisley's amber eyes gazing up at me like I hung the moon.

   RainyDay's dark, soul-filling pools and snuffling, velvet muzzle.

   20 mini t-rex chickens running for joy straight to me, mobbing me for treats.

   "Purrr, prrr, prrrr ..."

Can you hear your love lines? 

My time Writing Down the Bones with Natalie Goldberg (Part 1) by Diane Bator

 

The very first writing book I ever owned was a Christmas gift from my brother-in-law and his wife way back in 1993. It was a copy of Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. Dog-eared now and covered in notes and highlights, it is still one of my favorite books and I’d always dreamed of joining one of her workshops even though going to Santa Fe wasn’t something I could afford. The dream lingered.

Fast forward to 2007. Since receiving that book, I have moved across Canada from Alberta to Ontario and, in order to meet some like-minded people, joined a writing group that uses Ms. Goldberg’s teachings as a template to run their meetings. It’s the closest opportunity I have to actually attending one of her workshops, so it’ll do.

Then along came Covid and things changed. Some of them for the better! One of those things was making mentorships even more accessible than ever.

A few weeks ago I found a link from Prajna Studios, a division of Shambhala Publications, about a virtual Writing Down the Bones webinar featuring my dream mentor—you guessed it!—Natalie Goldberg.

“Yeah. Right. It’s going to cost a fortune,” I told the link, but clicked on it anyway.

Up came a video with Natalie sharing three key points that came to guide and anchor her writing life over the past decades. The video was a little hard to hear but in a nutshell, they are:

1. Continue under all circumstances.
2. Don’t be tossed away.
3. Make positive effort for the good.

Trust me, everyone who clicks on the link gets to hear them. I’m not giving away deep dark secrets!

The deeper into the rabbit hole I dug, the more I realized I could actually learn from the woman who was a huge inspiration to me so many years ago without having to pay a small fortune!

Do I dive in? The price was reasonable. How could I refuse?

Or do I pretend I never saw the link? Never went down that rabbit hole as inviting as it is?

Writing for me is like breathing. Ink runs in my blood. If I didn’t dive in and do this, would I regret it later?

I didn’t hesitate long. I dove right in and made sure I had all the reading materials. I’ve finished my first section and halfway through the second while reading many chapters from Natalie’s various books.

The best part is I've already been meeting other classmates. Some we chat on a forum and three others I’ve joined for a regular Sunday Writing session. We write to prompts and share what we have written. We also encourage each other to write and have fun with our projects.

Hopefully, you have also discovered a mentor. Someone who will encourage you along your path no matter what that may be.

Next month, I’ll share more about what I’ve learned and will even get to do live, online sessions with Natalie!