Bon Voyage To Meee by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    So curretly I am en route to Toronto Ontario, so I fear there will be but a small blog post this month. I flew via Flair Airlines without a hitch, and am typing this up as I sit in the very front of the Robert Q bus. What a flight, I must say! I was glad to have a bit of liquid courage on the plane because the landing was rocky at best. The wildfires in Canada mean the skies are clouded in smog, which I suppose corresponds to mega turbulance. However, I am lucky to find myself here and on the way to plan and map out another book!

It was a lovely view in New Brunswick today at least. Though, if you have ever flown flair you may know how cheap it is. This comes at a price however, as every little thing has an extra charge. For example, carry on baggage. Now... I am but a humble writer. I'm no Stephen King nor Dean Koontz. I can't afford all the extras can I?

Well... not on a novelists salary! So, I planned ahead! I wore all my clothes on the plane, packed a fanny pack, and made sure even my boots had pockets!

I wasn't kidding! Good for one pair of underpants! 

Now that means as soon as I arrived I had to change. Holy heck its hot here! New Brunswick was crisp 10 degrees maybe, but by the time I arrived at TO I was due for a wardrobe change. I'm only here a few short days, but I am hoping to take in some sights while I'm here. I'm also going to be meeting up with my co-author for the Ballroom Riot series, Tara Woodworth! 

I'll have more to report next month when I return from my first trip since the pandemic! So stayed tuned then and keep writing! 

                

Before Flight and after flight... I felt much cooler after changing! 

Bon Voyage to Meeeeeeeeee

Authors' Quirks by J. S. Marlo

 

 

Wounded Hearts

"Love & Sacrifice #2"

is now available  

click here 

 

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

    Sometimes writers have weird quirks, and that makes me feel so much better. Here are a few:

    Mystery author Agatha Christie suffered from dysgraphia, a neurological disorder characterized by writing disabilities. The disorder causes a person's writing to be distorted or incorrect. As a result, she dictated her novels to another person.

 

    Winner of 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature John Ernst Steinbeck Jr. wrote his books by hand and used up to 60 pencils per day. He used 300 pencils to complete East of Eden.

        BTW, there’s a term to describe the cramping resulting from holding a pencil too long: mogigraphia.

    Elizabethan scribe Peter Bales reportedly produced a complete, handwritten copy of the Bible so small it could fit inside a walnut shell.

    German playwright and poet Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller kept rotten apples in his desk, claiming he needed the scent of their decay to help him write.

    British poet Edith Sitwell reportedly liked to lie in an open coffin before she began her day’s writing.

    Poet Amy Lowell once bought a stash of 10,000 cigars, claiming she needed them to help her write.

    

    English writer Graham Greene would write 500 words a day and then stop – even in the middle of a sentence.

English novelist Anthony Trollope began his writing day at 5:30 every morning. He would write 250 words every 15 minutes, pacing himself with a watch.

    Elizabethan scribe Peter Bales reportedly produced a complete, handwritten copy of the Bible so small it could fit inside a walnut shell.

  

 American children's author Theodor Seuss Geisel a.k.a. Dr. Seuss had a secret closet filled with more than 500 hats. When stuck in a story, he would wear them until the words came.

    American novelist, screenwriter, and playwright Truman Capote often wrote while lying on his back, with a glass of sherry in one hand and a pencil in the other. He sharpened pencils to help him think while he wrote, and so did American novelist and short-story writer Ernest Hemingway.

    Me, I keep a pen and a notepad under my bed in case I wake up in the middle of the night with an idea. I scribble it in the dark, so I don't wake my husband, then in the morning, I try to decipher the sentences I wrote on top of one another.

        BTW, writer’s block is not only real but also normal. There’s even a fancy term for it: colygraphia.

 

    Happy Reading & Stay Safe

    J.S.

 

Writing with Pets by Eileen O'Finlan

 

Click here for purchase information

As people who share their homes and lives with pets can attest, their furry companions are often involved in everything that goes on at home. For me, that includes writing. My two cats, Smokey (now a Rainbow Bridge Angel Kitty) and Autumn Amelia even inspired my latest book, All the Furs and Feathers. In some ways, they helped me write it since I often took my cues from their personalities.

It's one thing to pay attention to the pets, think about how they might respond given various fictional situations, and put it in a story. It's quite another to have them physically involved while trying to write that (or any other) story.

About a year ago, I became a Rover.com sitter and began boarding small dogs in my home for weekends while their pet parents were away. Two of them, Chewy and Bruce Lee have become regular clients. They are getting used to me spending time on my laptop while they are staying with me, though if a writing session runs too long in their estimation, they make their feelings known and cut it short. However, the last time they were at my house, Bruce Lee decided that rather than trying to drag me away from my writing, he'd help out. Here's how that went:

Does this mean he's now co-author on my next novel?

Not to be outdone by the dogs, Autumn Amelia has been spending more and more time huddle as close as she can get to my laptop whenever I'm working on it, inching ever closer to the keyboard. A strict editor, she keeps a close eye on my writing. I can tell when she thinks her editing skills are needed. Here, let me show you in pictures how that progresses:

Autumn settles in, ready to start assessing my current writing session.

Hmm...this could use some help.

Autumn thinks she can write it better so she takes over

It's well-known that pets bring us many joys and having them in our lives offer a number of benefits. Who knew writing help was one of them!

Hatfield House by Rosemary Morris

 

Hatfield House

Part One

A Brief history.

 

When I write classic, historical, romantic fiction I am inspired by visits to places of historical interest. Hatfield House within easy reach of my house, close to where I live, always provides ample fuel for inspiration and imagination.

Starlington at en wikipedia.

When Henry VIII appropriated the original house completed, at the end of the fifteen century by the Bishop of Ely, he frequently used it to accommodate his children. From the tower above the Banqueting Hall to the west of the current building, Henry’s older daughter, Mary, waved to him after he had divorced her mother, Catherine of Aragon, but he rode past without acknowledging her. After his second wife, Anne Boleyn’s execution, his younger daughter lived there without the necessary clothes to keep her decent. Later her relationship with her father improved and she lived happily at Hatfield House with her brother, Edward. After her father and her brother’s deaths, the roman catholic queen Elizabeth’s half-sister Mary, kept her at the house in splendid isolation and tried to force her to renounce the Church of England for the Roman Catholic faith.

In 1558, while Elizabeth sat under an oak tree in the park reading a book, she received news of Queen Mary’s death and said, It is the Lord’s doing and it is marvellous in our eyes. She summoned William Cecil, subsequently Lord Burghley. After Queen Elizabeth’s death, King James preferred Theobald, the residence of William’s son Robert, and exchanged it with him for Hatfield House. Robert enjoyed building and in 1608 pulled down three sides of the old house and built the magnificent new one which is still owned by the Cecil family.      

 

https://bwlpublishing.ca/morris-rosemary

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

Character Inspiration #3: Prairie Fire by Julie Christen

This is more about being humbled (which in turn led to inspiration) by several people during one moment in time. It was the event that lit the spark within me for the NokotaⓇ horses. And that spark became a flame that continues to burn like a prairie fire in me.

MN Horse Expo. State Fairgrounds. I go every year. Faithfully. It’s like Horse Christmas. All things horses - shopping, clinicians, exhibitions, classes, and breed demonstrations. My favorite is the breed demonstrations. Each breed at the Expo gets about 10 minutes in the coliseum to show off their best “breed standard” qualities. Many of the stables put on quite a fine show. Some come out in great numbers and perform a drill team routine set to thrilling music. Others have several riders come out advertising the wide variety of disciplines their breed is capable of performing. Western, English, hunter/jumper, dressage, driving - you name it. Their outfits are smart and sharp or showy and flowy. An announcer reads a script provided by each breed’s representative which covers a bit of history and breed descriptions.

One year, however, which I’m inclined to say (and not lightly so), changed my life. It also earned me my “Most Humbling Moment Award” when the Nokota horses, and the people behind them, won my heart. 

It happened over a decade ago now.

I remember like it was yesterday.

The coliseum quiets. Hooty windpipe music flutters and echoes throughout the vast coliseum. I wait for the next demonstration. My expectations are set high based on those I’ve seen so far. I look at my program. “Nokota” it says. I’ve never heard of this breed. I am anxious to learn.

And then they come in. 

It’s not organized. There are no fancy outfits. They are wild and unruly - horses and riders both. There are no saddles. No bridles. No music routine. Just pounding hooves and flying hair. And lots of it.

I am not impressed. To me, they’re doing a sloppy job of showing off their breed. I can’t believe someone hasn’t fallen or hurt themselves. Plus, it seems no one has so much as run a brush over these horses, much less a comb through their manes and tails. They all look shaggy and rough. Again, horses and riders both.

The worst part, though, is me. Deep down, behind my Judgy Judgerson attitude, especially since I am no great rider myself, I am secretly, inexplicably, ashamedly jealous. 

I look around the crowd to see if anyone else is reacting like I am reacting to this train wreck display. Not one. 

So I look again. 

And this time, I look hard at the chaos happening in the arena. And I listen. 

I hear the announcer tell their story - their heartbreaking, inspiring, historic story of strength, honor and hope. I listen intently to the details of two brothers - Frank and Leo Kuntz - giving their lives to preserve the future of these descendents of Sitting Bull’s war ponies. I hear the hooves pound an earthy rhythm that seeps into my very being. I hear it said that you don’t choose a Nokota, the horse chooses you - they are searching for their person. I hear the riders whoop happily to each other and to their horses. And at some point, some moment in time that feels vague yet is anchored with clarity in my mind, it all begins to flow in slow motion right before my eyes. 

Wild beauty. Friendships. Partners. Play. Joy. Trust. Love.  Horses and riders both.

The manes and tails are couriers of the North Dakota prairie wind. Their strong, feathered legs perform athletic feats, twisting and turning at the whims of their riders. They stand, still as stone, as their riders climb to their feet confidently, almost haughtily, onto their backs. Then take off like shots when their riders pop back down. Their spirit is palpable. They are doing a PERFECT job representing this breed and all of its most special qualities. I am ashamed at how quickly I judged. 

And now, I am in awe. It washes over me in a wave of emotion that tingles on my skin, then pounds in my heart, and finally … brings tears to my eyes.

Again, I look around to see if anyone else is reacting as I am. Not one. This moment is just for me. To do with as I see fit. So from that moment forward, I decided to learn and learn and learn about these horses, their story, their people. 

And so began my love affair. 

And so it continues today. 

Years later, I discovered that some of those wild riders were Frank Kuntz’s daughters. And never did I imagine at the time that I would one day be a part of their Nokota family. Two horses from their herd, Red Eagle and RainyDay, have found their person in my husband and me. I am blessed.

In Nokota Voices, I’ve transformed this memory into fictional form, which you will hopefully read for yourself someday. Maybe the Prairie Fire girls will light a flame in you!

To learn more and to order your copy of Nokota Voices, check out my website and BWL Author Page.

Here’s to good people doing good things. Enjoy the ride!

Writer on the Move by Diane Bator

https://bwlpublishing.ca/bator-diane/

A writer on the move. That sums up my life about now.

For anyone who has ever wished they could run away from their lives and go somewhere else to start a new life…I’m living your dream!

In all the midst of promoting my latest book, All That Shimmers, I’ve also been packing to move across Canada. Who knew I had so many copies of my own books for events and whatnot let alone friend’s books and my TBR pile? You know you have a problem when you plan to take more books than kitchen accessories!

Now that the kids are grown and doing their own great things, and a few other things haven’t gone the way I’d hoped, it seemed like a good time to hit the road and “go back home.” Yup, I said it. It won’t be a Hallmark movie. I guarantee that. There was no high school sweetheart. No guy I left—or who left me—at the altar.

I’m looking forward to going back to see family and old friends.

To spend time writing without other responsibilities for a little while. Until a new job comes along, that is! A writer needs to eat and pay rent, you know.

And feed their adoring cats!

Ash and Jazz, my furry companions whom I’ve dubbed the Hallelujah Chorus, will be joining me. To date, they don’t travel well. My hope is that after an hour on the road they’ll give up singing and take a nap. After 8 hours in the car, they might plot my death once we reach the hotel though.

I used to be afraid of so many things in life. Death, taxes, driving the 401 freeway in Ontario, but after all the changes I’ve had to deal with in the past few years I’m ready for a challenge. In the past couple weeks, I’ve done some interesting things:

· Bought a new-to-me car.

· Rented a new apartment sight unseen.

· Packed everything I own and figuring out how to Tetris it all into my new-to-me car.

· Said goodbye to friends and co-workers, some I’ve known for nearly 18 years, worked with, wrote with, and trained with.

· Mapped out a route to drive 3300ish kilometers across the country alone over 5 days with 2 cats and staying in 4 hotels.

· Scanned hundreds of journals, school photos, family photos and the like so I have less paper to move.

· Learned how to use the cool new features of said new-to-me car.

· Took about a thousand deep breaths and wondered if I was doing the right thing—only to have more things happen to remind me that I have great things awaiting. I’ll be able to share more of those down the road.

In the meantime, there’s more packing and scanning to do and cat stuff to prepare.

Then I’ll set out for my drive across Canada.

I’ll let you know how it goes!

Diane

https://bwlpublishing.ca/bator-diane/

Entitled 2: Giving your book a title to remember by donalee Moulton

 

Visit donalee Moulton's BWL Author page for book purchase links

Last month we talked about giving your story a title. Unlike article titles, book titles are usually the domain of the writer. This may be because the writer has a closer connection to the topic, the editor wants the writer to do the work, the writer and editor see it as the author’s prerogative. But just because the book writer usually develops the title doesn’t mean the editor will accept it. They will tell you if they don’t like it – and why. They will tell you if it won’t work – and why.

Let’s look at what constitutes – usually – a good book title, and then I will use my recent BWL book as an example.

Because book titles are one of the first things a potential reader sees, they need to hook that reader. It’s recommended the title give away a little something about the plot and the nature of your book. It is going to be action-packed, romantic, whimsical.

Here are the three main ingredients in a strong title:

Ingredient#1

Length. Shorter is better. Shorter needs to be more memorable, more powerful. Some experts advocate for the one-word title, but one-word titles are more limiting for search engines. Fewer examples are found. The recommendation: three or four words.

Ingredient #2.

Impact.  The title should draw the reader in because it is evocative, it speaks to what lies within the pages of the book. It sets the stage for what they can expect.

Ingredient #3

Uniqueness. Titles that we can remember, titles that stand out from the crowd are winners. This may be a play on words, a pun, a jab, a literary reference, a phrase that speaks to mind, heart and spirit.

In short, titles are essential to the sale of a book. And they are not easy. Let’s look at one title I’m very familiar with.

My newest book is Hung Out to Die. It’s a murder mystery. The main character is CEO of a cannabis-production company in Elmsdale, Nova Scotia. As I was writing this book, a funny aside started to take place involving a word the main character had never heard before: Chunderfuck. In my mind, that became the title of the book with asterisks replacing two of the letters in the last syllable. I then built on this concept. Future books would have similar fun but profane titles: Numb Nuts, Dick Wad…. You get the idea.

It was not meant to be. As I was starting to shop around my book, I realized the title might lead agents and publishers to conclude the book would be darker, edgier, grittier than it is. Indeed, it’s actually funny. I also didn’t want to turn off publishers before they even read the book. I went with a working title instead: So, A psychopath walked into a bar. In my mind, the book would still be called Chunderf**k, an issue I would raise with my publisher as soon as I had one. Which I did. My publisher – BWL – was more than open to changing the title. But not Chunder, and not for the reason you might think. Search engines don’t pick up asterisks.

Dammit.

So the book is called Hung Out to Die. It’s a play on words, drying plants is linked to cannabis, and the victim dies by hanging. It’s short, it’s got some oomph, but let’s face it. It’s no Chunderf**k.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on titles. And asterisks.

BWL Publishing Inc. New Releases for June 2023

 

US Park Service investigators Doug and Jill Fletcher are dispatched to Hawaii when the bodies of two hikers are discovered near the Kīlauea volcano.

Initially reluctant to accept the assignment, Doug becomes intrigued when he learns that the investigating ranger’s report of lost hikers overcome by volcanic gasses disagrees with the autopsy findings. As the investigation progresses, the Fletchers find themselves entangled in more than the investigation of the death of two park visitors.

Click to Purchase Peril in Paradise

“Where do I belong?”

In 1912, Mary Louisa Appleton is 27 years old and a domestic servant in Cornwall, England. She sees no future there, so she accepts employment with a family returning to Alberta, Canada. It is the land of unlimited opportunity, or so she has heard.

 

Once in Canada, Mary faces the dilemma of all immigrants – where does she belong?

 

She is conflicted: her body is in Canada but her heart is in England. She longs to return to England but wars, marriage, children, the Dirty Thirties, and economic circumstances conspire to keep her in Canada.

 

Then Mary faces a crisis, and she has to decide where she belongs.

 

Searching for Home is the story of the author’s maternal grandmother and her journey to learn that home is as much a place in the heart as it is a place on the landscape

Click to Purchase Searching for Home

The Summer Vale Ranch once flourished with old Duke Barlowe at the helm, persevering despite his troublemaking neighbours, the Sutherlyns. And then circumstances, age and stubborn pride took their toll.

 

Duke’s grandson, Hayden Barlowe, was the ranch’s heir apparent. Hayden had been set to wed the lovely Naomi Martel, both families delighted with the match, when he balked and called off the wedding. Naomi was brokenhearted when he took Mary Rae Sutherlyn for his wife instead.

 

Hayden was banished from the ranch when he chose a bride from the enemy camp, but now, twelve years later he’s back, divorced and ready for a fight. And a fight is waiting. 

Click to Purchase Barlowe Pride

It’s the 1990s, and big business is lending support to growing animal and environmental conservation movements. First year college students Tad Gist and Linda Tassel are invited to a party celebrating industrial giant Garmon Chemicals commitment to preserve wildlife. Things go well until Dr. Kent Milton, a university professor who has been working with Linda on the project, makes unwanted advances. Suddenly, there’s a blackout. When the lights come on, one of the guests discovers her famous emerald necklace is missing. Dr. Milton has disappeared and may have been murdered. And Linda is the prime suspect.

 “well-paced, engaging… with likable characters.”— Goodreads Review

 “Recommended for anyone who is interested in mysteries and learning more about Native culture.”— Long and Short Reviews 

Click to Purchase Stolen at the Wildlife Refuge

Write one, knit one

 

Write one, knit one

by Priscilla Brown

 

 

 http://books2read.com/Hot-Ticket

 

          Lawyer Olivia is  familiar with her calculator, 

and would barely know what to do with a knitting needle.

Callum knows his way around a kitchen, 

does complicated arithmetic in his head and knits without a pattern.

💕💕

 

 Writing contemporary romance fiction and knitting whatever appeals to me at that time are my most important creative pursuits. With the ambitious aim of saving time, I started working on these almost simultaneously, in that I handwrote the story in a notebook when pausing the knitting of an adult broad-brimmed hat at the end of a row. I am an experienced knitter, but knitting a hat is of course not like, for example, the unshaped part of a sweater's back. I find working on these two needs more concentration than I allowed for, and calls for frequent coffee stops. So writing and  knitting, while not of course precisely simultaneous activities, for me are both works in progress. 

My current romance fiction on the computer awaits resolutions to assorted dilemmas and attention to the 'villain' of the piece, while the wool yarn in its basket shows promise that it will end up like the hat pictured on its pattern. Fortunately I don't have official deadlines, though I do need to get the hat out into the craft shop which sells my textile work because this is a cold winter in my area of inland Australia and head wear is a good idea.

If you have a work in progress whatever it may be, then good luck for its successful outcome. 

Warm regards, Priscilla.

https://bwlpublishing.ca

 

https://priscillabrownauthor.com 

Labels: knitting, writing, contemporary romance fiction, hat, wool, creative pursuits, works in progress

Change of Heart by Eden Monroe

 

Visit Eden Monroe's BWL Author Page for Purchase Information

 

In Barlowe Pride, Hayden Barlowe chose the wrong bride when he married Mary Rae Sutherlyn, and paid dearly for his youthful lapse of judgment. Not surprisingly, divorce was eventually necessary after the five-year marriage had completely unraveled. Now, seven years later, he’s back in Naomi Martel’s life.

Dealing with the subject of divorce made me curious about how dissolving the bands of matrimony has played out through history, so I did a little digging. When it comes to marriage, the institution that creates the option for divorce, there are any number of obscure reasons why couples decide to get hitched … besides love. And so conversely the motivation for ending the union, if that’s the way it goes, can be just as varied.

So here’s my little peek over time into a change of heart from the perspective of divorce.   

In Ancient Rome if a woman was caught making a copy of the household keys her husband could divorce her. Given the dominant male culture in many of those early societies I was amazed to learn that around the second century women were also given the right to divorce. However there had to be sufficient grounds to do so, no matter which partner initiated the action, and in ancient Rome those ranged from infertility and drunkenness to what is probably the most common reason even today: adultery.

Most divorce proceedings were kept private in ancient times, such transactions not a matter of public record. Nevertheless in Rome at that time there were rules that had to be followed regarding the dissolution of a marriage, and it could only become official if done in front of seven witnesses.

So it seems that as long as there is marriage there will be those who change their mind about their spouse and seek a divorce. In one country in particular we have an interesting assessment of the latter. According to Statistics Canada in a fifty-year analysis of divorces (1970 – 2020), there was an actual drop in the number of divorces. The aging of the married population is cited as a likely factor in that trend, as well as young Canadians deciding to live common-law rather than choosing traditional marriage.

COVID-19 also played a role during the time of this study. There were 25% fewer divorces during the first year of the pandemic in 2020 as compared to the previous year, no doubt due to public health measures in place at the time. Still, in 2019 Canada had the second lowest crude divorce rate among G7 countries. Internationally speaking, it seems Canada has “relatively few” divorces.

And how do divorce rates stack up for Canadians in general? Between 2016 and 2020, Yukon and Alberta had the highest divorce rate while Nunavut and Newfoundland & Labrador had the lowest.

 

No matter the geographic location though, the reasons for divorce can be pretty individualistic, such as a wife wanting out because her husband talked too much and couldn’t keep secrets; a woman upset that her husband voted for Trump; similarly a woman who wanted to divorce her husband because he went to work for Trump. And then there was the wife who spooked her husband so badly by levitating that he was done with the marriage, and a Nigerian woman who sought divorce from her husband because of his … well … oversized appendage that made intimate relations “a nightmare”. Another woman cited her reason for wanting a divorce was because her husband left dirty dishes in the sink, and a man who finally saw his wife without make-up and wasn’t impressed. There was also a woman who divorced her husband because he refused to provide her with a proper indoor toilet (she was tired of relieving herself in fields) and lastly, at least for this rather conservative list, a woman filing for divorce because her husband refused to shower for eight weeks.

A ten-year Swedish study revealed that couples with longer job commutes (involving one or both partners) were 4% more likely to call it quits compared to those working closer to home. And how about the power of influence? In a study published in Social Forces, participants were 75% more likely to divorce if a close friend or family member ended their own marriage, and if a friend of a friend got divorced, that number dropped to 33%.

Also, sixty years of US Census data indicates that if the first-born child is a daughter it leads to divorce more often than if the newborn is a son, and a University of Washington study says if a first baby of an unmarried couple is a boy, they are 42% more likely to marry.

Remarriage is common across time, however most people obtain a divorce before they revisit the altar. But not a man from New York City identified as Fred Jipp. According to The New York Times he was finally apprehended at the age of fifty-three and eventually convicted of bigamy and fraud. Jipp said I DO to no less than 104 women, and possibly 105 (he said he met most of them at flea markets), between 1949 and 1981. There is no mention of divorce from any of his wives, although it was reported he married some of them more than once.

https://www.bookswelove.com/monroe-eden/

How We Saw Tina & Ike - Or, Once Upon a Time in the 70's

 

FLY AWAY SNOW GOOSE BY

JULIET WALDRON &

JOHN WISDOMKEEPER,

a Canadian Historical Brides

Northwest Territory Story

AMAZON

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

In the '60's, I was a typical white college kid who hadn't heard much of what has been called Black music, except for the groups like The Temptations, The Crystals, Martha & The Vandellas, Ronettes or the Shirelles, the ones that made it onto rock'n'roll stations. (The only exception to this being Calypso, which I'd danced to during my high school years in the West Indies.) 

When I arrived at college in the States, I got to know new kids, ones that came from big cities, like New York, Philly, Boston, Baltimore, Chicago and D.C. This new cohort arrived with plenty of Rhythm and Blues and Soul mixed with their Folk and Rock L.P.s weighing down their college-bound trunks of indispensable stuff from home.  

Some years later, married, mother of two, I imagined I'd found the BFF I'd never had in my HS. I'd always been an outsider, for different reasons in the different places. I had a poor self image and secretly I'd always wanted to be "in with the in crowd" despite my own insistence upon being the nerd in the corner of the room. This new friend was young, glamorous and had three little kids, more or less the same age as my two. Her husband was a junior hot shot salesman who'd been a popular member of his fraternity. They couldn't have been any more different from us, but as young marrieds at the beginning of our lives, from marriage to parenting--not to mention work--we shared a lot. 

This was the early 70's and we were young, still wanting to play. Fresh out of college as we were, "fun" meant that the women cooked dinner--something simple, like sphagetti and a salad. Then we'd drink jug wine and listen to (and critique!) the latest rock LP because we were a generation who'd grown up listening to "our music" on the radio. We also told one another the usual get-acquainted stories about our origins. From childhood, we shared tales of raising kids and usually ended with how we were going to escape having the same lives as our parents. Our own kids ran around the house or out the yard, deep in pretend or hide and seek.

This extroverted couple took us to places my husband and I would normally never go--like a Rock'n'Rhythm review in a nearby city to see Ike & Tina Turner. My girl friend, with an urban background, told me that she'd read that Ike sometimes beat Tina. In those days, such a story was between us, woman to woman, as we all knew that physical abuse was but one of the hazards of being born female.  

The audience, when we got there, was a riot of color, some black, some white and some brown. I'd not been in such "mixed" company since living in the West Indies. Some were dressed to kill, with spangled mini-dresses, big hair, and high heels; others just wore jeans. My girlfriend had, of course, decided that we should dress for the occasion. She let down her blonde hair and wore open toed heels and a floaty hippy dress--white, gauzy, short, patterned 

with cherubs and long church choir sleeves.

She'd explored my meagre closet and come up with one of my mother's decades-old cast-off cocktail dresses. This was hot pink and rose red with a fitted bodice, boat neck and full swirling skirt.  She also discovered a ridiculous pair of heels from England, with pointed toes and extravagently high heels. We decided that a pair of bright green stockings would really proclaim that though the dress was thrift-shop retro, it wasn't the 1950's anymore, baby!

Our entrance, just as my girlfriend had foreseen, was majestic! We couldn't have felt more far-out.  Naturally, we got some put-down comments, but such was the price of our utter coolness.  ;)

Soon, music blasted into the auditorium, as a girl group warm-up band took the stage, to be followed by Ike and Tina. He watched her like a hawk, his dark eyes full of calculation, as he checked out the size of the crowd. He made certain we all would all notice that she was his, hands on her waist and then on her shoulders, but she appeared to want to get down to business, stepping forward and giving us all a flash of her white teeth. She waved the chord, freeing the mike, while everyone cheered and jumped and whooped. The band's name might have still been "Ike and Tina Turner," but it was plain who we'd all come to see. 

For over an hour, Ike and Tiny rocked us. They sang their oldies, as well as covering newer hits. Here's a few that I remember from that memorable night.

https://youtu.be/sTM17bmV4wg  ~ Honky Tonk Woman

https://youtu.be/FwaxT7zL7kA  ~ Fool in Love

https://youtu.be/bpuf6AmQH4M ~ Nutbush Avenue

https://youtu.be/uj0wPrN_Y_4  ~ River Deep Mountain High

It was over far too soon. We left, drenched with sweat and totally hoarse, as you are after a great concert. 

Time passed; friends departed. We moved and moved again. Tina vanished for a time from  pop radio, but then she was back, without the abusive, controlling husband, and better than ever. Many even bigger hits followed. My favorite is the heart-wrenching "What's Love Got to Do With it?" which spoke volumes to so many. 

Then, in the 2000s, I encountered a new Tina, now in a Buddhist incarnation, as were many in our cohort. After years of pain, of suffering, and a lot of growing, the Queen of Rock had found healing and peace.  

https://youtu.be/6XP-f7wPM0A  ~  Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu Om

 

 A rough translation: May there be well being in all, May there be peace in all, May there be fulfillment in all...Peace, Peace Peace.)

Hail the Traveler! I'll never forget that wild night in a Hartford auditorium. 

~Juliet Waldron

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