Cynthia Hamilton's Blog: Reading and Writing, page 5
June 7, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Ann Campanella
Mother-Daughter relationships. That three-word phrase is enough to send the mind running wildly. It’s hard to be neutral on the subject if you’re a mother or a daughter, or both. Even the best mother-daughter relationships become challenged when a mind-altering illness enters the equation.
In my case, Alzheimer’s presented me with a blessing inside a tragedy; with all the painful memories lost, my mom forgot her grudges and heartache. For author Ann Campanella, her mother’s descent into Alzheimer’s triggered a profound loss of footing, on two fronts. Being a poet, Ann looked inward to find the resources to cope with and understand what she was faced with, and gave voice to what so many people are feeling.
Here is her touching story behind the beautifully told “Motherhood: Lost and Found”:
I remember standing outside the barn. It was a spring day or maybe a fall afternoon. A light breeze blew my bangs across my forehead. The sun was warm, but mild, on its way up or beginning its descent. Tall grass nodded along the fence line, and I heard the grind of my horse’s molars as he snatched at fescue.
There were chores to be done, or else I had just finished them – picking stalls, scrubbing water buckets, cleaning tack, sweeping the aisle. Beyond the chores something lay in my subconscious. An uneasiness.
My mother and I were six hours apart and separated by an emotional distance I didn’t understand. Her mind was failing. She was beginning to spiral downward. There was a gnawing at the edge of my soul that wouldn’t go away.
Joel and I were ready to start a family, unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. I was friend and surrogate mom a few hours a week to my riding students, a group of young girls who reminded me of myself at that age—warm, fun loving, exuberant, fragile. On lesson days, they surrounded me on horseback, relaxing in their saddles, legs dangling beside their stirrups. Their laughter floated on the wind.
I sensed that my world was about to change in ways I could only guess. In my mid-30s, I was used to being in control. I knew what it was to be strong and competent, how it felt to set goals and achieve them. Weakness was foreign to me.
That is, until a hairline fissure appeared at the core of my life plan. At first, it was hardly noticeable. But the tiny fracture split open and widened day by day.
There was a time when things were “bad” with my mom. Bad was the word my sister and I used. “It’s bad,” we’d say, unable to articulate the changes in her. How she’d gone from a gentle, benevolent presence in my life to this unpredictable, volatile force. Bad meant Mom was upset and angry, her mouth in a thin line as she opened and slammed shut drawers and closet doors, hid notebooks, journals and checkbooks in strange places.
Years later I found an appointment book pressed between layers of sheets that were bundled up and stuffed in a bureau. I’m not sure if she was hiding these things from my father or if some unconscious part of her was hiding something from herself. Hiding the fact that she could no longer keep up with dates and times, that the structure of her life was dissolving.
As Mom was descending into her own darkness, I remember sitting on the couch in my living room sometime after midnight, my emotions catatonic, a laptop perched on my knees. I was surfing the web searching for any and every site that had the word “Alzheimer’s” in it.
I didn’t know anyone who was in my situation or at least anyone who talked about it. Most of my friends had mothers much younger than me. Some of my older friends had lost their mothers, but their own families were well intact. Mom was a word that referred to them.
I felt so alone, treading into the blackness of cyberspace, reaching out to read the words of someone, anyone, who had gone through the experience of seeing her mother disintegrate before her eyes.
I began writing Motherhood: Lost and Found as I straddled this crevice of darkness in my life. I didn’t know what was to come, only that the here and now was painful. So painful that I needed to record the minutes and hours that made me ache in journals. This way I could put some of the pain aside, take it in bit by bit, word by word, so as not to choke on it.
I didn’t know that the process of writing this experience would lead me through it. That the act of tuning into my own terrible grief would help me emerge from the pain and enlarge my heart. That I would learn to be grateful for the parts of my mother that remained and the pieces she had passed on to me. That through each difficult moment, God was gently calling me to Him.
I now have an inkling of the range of possibilities that lie within each moment. Even in my mother’s fractured state and most confused moments, she continued to teach me that family and the mother/daughter bond are treasures that reach far beyond words. And that what we think we know is only the merest hint of what can blossom into being.
Ann Campanella is the author of the award-winning memoir, Motherhood: Lost and Found, and four collections of poetry. Formerly a magazine and newspaper editor and currently a member of the AlzAuthors’ management team, Ann’s writing has appeared in literary journals, newspapers, magazines and blogs across the country. Twice, Ann has received the Poet Laureate Award from the North Carolina Poetry Society. She lives on a small horse farm in North Carolina with her family and animals.
Website: www.anncampanella.com (website)
Facebook: @anncampanella.author
Twitter: @authorAnnC
Instagram: horse_2nd_time_around
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ann-
Campanella/e/B001JOWQ3A
7
In my case, Alzheimer’s presented me with a blessing inside a tragedy; with all the painful memories lost, my mom forgot her grudges and heartache. For author Ann Campanella, her mother’s descent into Alzheimer’s triggered a profound loss of footing, on two fronts. Being a poet, Ann looked inward to find the resources to cope with and understand what she was faced with, and gave voice to what so many people are feeling.
Here is her touching story behind the beautifully told “Motherhood: Lost and Found”:
I remember standing outside the barn. It was a spring day or maybe a fall afternoon. A light breeze blew my bangs across my forehead. The sun was warm, but mild, on its way up or beginning its descent. Tall grass nodded along the fence line, and I heard the grind of my horse’s molars as he snatched at fescue.
There were chores to be done, or else I had just finished them – picking stalls, scrubbing water buckets, cleaning tack, sweeping the aisle. Beyond the chores something lay in my subconscious. An uneasiness.
My mother and I were six hours apart and separated by an emotional distance I didn’t understand. Her mind was failing. She was beginning to spiral downward. There was a gnawing at the edge of my soul that wouldn’t go away.
Joel and I were ready to start a family, unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. I was friend and surrogate mom a few hours a week to my riding students, a group of young girls who reminded me of myself at that age—warm, fun loving, exuberant, fragile. On lesson days, they surrounded me on horseback, relaxing in their saddles, legs dangling beside their stirrups. Their laughter floated on the wind.
I sensed that my world was about to change in ways I could only guess. In my mid-30s, I was used to being in control. I knew what it was to be strong and competent, how it felt to set goals and achieve them. Weakness was foreign to me.
That is, until a hairline fissure appeared at the core of my life plan. At first, it was hardly noticeable. But the tiny fracture split open and widened day by day.
There was a time when things were “bad” with my mom. Bad was the word my sister and I used. “It’s bad,” we’d say, unable to articulate the changes in her. How she’d gone from a gentle, benevolent presence in my life to this unpredictable, volatile force. Bad meant Mom was upset and angry, her mouth in a thin line as she opened and slammed shut drawers and closet doors, hid notebooks, journals and checkbooks in strange places.
Years later I found an appointment book pressed between layers of sheets that were bundled up and stuffed in a bureau. I’m not sure if she was hiding these things from my father or if some unconscious part of her was hiding something from herself. Hiding the fact that she could no longer keep up with dates and times, that the structure of her life was dissolving.
As Mom was descending into her own darkness, I remember sitting on the couch in my living room sometime after midnight, my emotions catatonic, a laptop perched on my knees. I was surfing the web searching for any and every site that had the word “Alzheimer’s” in it.
I didn’t know anyone who was in my situation or at least anyone who talked about it. Most of my friends had mothers much younger than me. Some of my older friends had lost their mothers, but their own families were well intact. Mom was a word that referred to them.
I felt so alone, treading into the blackness of cyberspace, reaching out to read the words of someone, anyone, who had gone through the experience of seeing her mother disintegrate before her eyes.
I began writing Motherhood: Lost and Found as I straddled this crevice of darkness in my life. I didn’t know what was to come, only that the here and now was painful. So painful that I needed to record the minutes and hours that made me ache in journals. This way I could put some of the pain aside, take it in bit by bit, word by word, so as not to choke on it.
I didn’t know that the process of writing this experience would lead me through it. That the act of tuning into my own terrible grief would help me emerge from the pain and enlarge my heart. That I would learn to be grateful for the parts of my mother that remained and the pieces she had passed on to me. That through each difficult moment, God was gently calling me to Him.
I now have an inkling of the range of possibilities that lie within each moment. Even in my mother’s fractured state and most confused moments, she continued to teach me that family and the mother/daughter bond are treasures that reach far beyond words. And that what we think we know is only the merest hint of what can blossom into being.
Ann Campanella is the author of the award-winning memoir, Motherhood: Lost and Found, and four collections of poetry. Formerly a magazine and newspaper editor and currently a member of the AlzAuthors’ management team, Ann’s writing has appeared in literary journals, newspapers, magazines and blogs across the country. Twice, Ann has received the Poet Laureate Award from the North Carolina Poetry Society. She lives on a small horse farm in North Carolina with her family and animals.
Website: www.anncampanella.com (website)
Facebook: @anncampanella.author
Twitter: @authorAnnC
Instagram: horse_2nd_time_around
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ann-
Campanella/e/B001JOWQ3A
7
June 1, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Susan Rooke
I first read some of Susan’s work last year after clicking on a link in her Twitter post. I knew immediately that she had a wonderful writing style, the kind that is so easy to get caught up in. I must confess that I downloaded her book when it came out and have gotten well into the story, despite that fact that I’ve had very little experience with this genre. The reason I haven’t finished it is that since I’ve gotten on Twitter, I’ve had the good fortune of connecting with many talented writers, and…to be perfectly honest, I’ve become something of a book junkie. The truth is, I have at least ten books on my Kindle that I’m currently reading. I’m starting to think this might be a mistake, but I can honestly say I’m fascinated by all of them. I think I may need an intervention!
But back to Susan’s book… Finding out how long it took her to write The Space Between explains why it’s so mesmerizing. She takes the reader into a parallel universe that is as complex and dynamic as anything you’ve ever encountered. I feel a distinct sense of tension when reading it; I have no idea where she’s leading me, but I’m certain the outcome will be quite dramatic and well worth the journey, which in itself is worth taking.
It’s my pleasure to introduce to you Susan Rooke:
Before 2005, I’d tried several times to write a novel and had the abandoned manuscripts in my desk drawers to prove it. So when I first began writing The Space Between: The Prophecy of Faeries in the fall of that year, my primary goal was just . . . to finish. I had reason to be hopeful. Unlike all the other times I’d tried, I had a new tool to push me over the hump: NaNoWriMo and its inspiring concept of writing 50,000 words in 30 days.
I decided on September 1 as the target start date. By then, The Daughter would’ve begun her senior year of high school. The house would be quiet and I would have the freedom to write the required 1,667 daily words. But as the date drew nearer, I began to grow nervous. I still had no notion of a plot. All I knew was that it would be fantasy, since that’s the sort of fiction I write.
Then one day after I’d learned of a folkloric belief that faeries are descended from fallen angels, I heard my own voice say in my head, “A young woman is taken by faeries.” A few days later I was on the treadmill, reading a fascinating book about the physical abnormalities that have been documented in human beings. I knew at once that the faeries who kidnap the young woman have imposed physical challenges like these on themselves, because of guilt over their fallen angel ancestors. I named them the Penitents, and, armed with that knowledge, on September 1, 2005 I began writing The Space Between. Thirty days later, I had a first draft of 51,000 words. Yes, NaNoWriMo had worked. But a few weeks later when my celebrating was over and I’d started a second draft, I realized most of the book still had to be written. The problem was, I’d created a multi-worldbuilding fantasy, and at a scant 51,000 words, I was still at least one world short.
Over the next eleven years and eleven months, I wrote draft after draft. Not only had I come too far to stop, but also my characters grew too insistent to ignore. They set up residence in my head and began making demands at all hours, including in my sleep. One memorable night I was in the middle of the book’s umpteenth revision and fell into bed with an overtired brain, still thinking about the scene I’d been working on that day. It was set in the Penitents’ Keep and featured Lugo, the Keep’s Master. I had this dream:
I was at the service counter of an old-fashioned hardware store, the kind with scarred wood floors and dusty shelves displaying every part you’d ever need, whether to repair your lawnmower or build a functional satnav system. The kind where every employee knows the inventory by heart and has worked there at least thirty years.
As I waited, a group of eight or ten very peculiar people in 1960s-era clothing entered the store and filed past me in a line, their eyes averted as if they were embarrassed. The men wore leisure suits and Nehru jackets. The women wore polyester pantsuits and had stiff, bouffant hair and eyes painted with frosted blue shadow. They were so out of place they could have been time travelers to the 21st Century.
Even though they wouldn’t look at me, I had the strong feeling that they were desperate for me to notice them. When I saw that each of them had some physical deformity, it dawned on me that I knew them—these were my Penitent characters. They had come to find me. And bless their hearts, they’d tried to disguise themselves as ordinary hardware store customers by dressing in a way they thought was fashionable for humans.
Dumbfounded to see them in my world, I waited for one of them to say something. They remained silent, though, and soon had looped past me, leaving by the door they’d come in. Then the last one, an austerely handsome, somewhat haughty-looking man (despite his outlandish garb of polyester bellbottoms topped by an open-necked shirt with an oversized collar), stopped in front of me. Unlike the rest, he met my eyes, giving me an appraising look. It was Lugo.
“We just wanted to make sure you’re as comfortable with us as you think you are,” he said. Then he turned and followed the others out of the hardware store, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
It’s now almost thirteen years since I started writing The Space Between. Its sequel, The Realm Below: The Rise of Tanipestis, is nearing completion. After my successful NaNoWriMo experience gave me much-needed confidence, I chose to write it the old-fashioned way. My characters, of course, pitched in to help. We’re very comfortable with each other now.
To all of them, and especially to Lugo, I want to say this: Thank you for your trust, and for choosing me to tell your story. It’s an honor. The next time you need to find me, though, no disguises, okay? Just come as yourselves.
And thank you, Cynthia Hamilton, for allowing me to share the story behind The Space Between!
http://susanrooke.net
https://twitter.com/susanrooke777
https://www.facebook.com/SusanRookeAu...
But back to Susan’s book… Finding out how long it took her to write The Space Between explains why it’s so mesmerizing. She takes the reader into a parallel universe that is as complex and dynamic as anything you’ve ever encountered. I feel a distinct sense of tension when reading it; I have no idea where she’s leading me, but I’m certain the outcome will be quite dramatic and well worth the journey, which in itself is worth taking.
It’s my pleasure to introduce to you Susan Rooke:
Before 2005, I’d tried several times to write a novel and had the abandoned manuscripts in my desk drawers to prove it. So when I first began writing The Space Between: The Prophecy of Faeries in the fall of that year, my primary goal was just . . . to finish. I had reason to be hopeful. Unlike all the other times I’d tried, I had a new tool to push me over the hump: NaNoWriMo and its inspiring concept of writing 50,000 words in 30 days.
I decided on September 1 as the target start date. By then, The Daughter would’ve begun her senior year of high school. The house would be quiet and I would have the freedom to write the required 1,667 daily words. But as the date drew nearer, I began to grow nervous. I still had no notion of a plot. All I knew was that it would be fantasy, since that’s the sort of fiction I write.
Then one day after I’d learned of a folkloric belief that faeries are descended from fallen angels, I heard my own voice say in my head, “A young woman is taken by faeries.” A few days later I was on the treadmill, reading a fascinating book about the physical abnormalities that have been documented in human beings. I knew at once that the faeries who kidnap the young woman have imposed physical challenges like these on themselves, because of guilt over their fallen angel ancestors. I named them the Penitents, and, armed with that knowledge, on September 1, 2005 I began writing The Space Between. Thirty days later, I had a first draft of 51,000 words. Yes, NaNoWriMo had worked. But a few weeks later when my celebrating was over and I’d started a second draft, I realized most of the book still had to be written. The problem was, I’d created a multi-worldbuilding fantasy, and at a scant 51,000 words, I was still at least one world short.
Over the next eleven years and eleven months, I wrote draft after draft. Not only had I come too far to stop, but also my characters grew too insistent to ignore. They set up residence in my head and began making demands at all hours, including in my sleep. One memorable night I was in the middle of the book’s umpteenth revision and fell into bed with an overtired brain, still thinking about the scene I’d been working on that day. It was set in the Penitents’ Keep and featured Lugo, the Keep’s Master. I had this dream:
I was at the service counter of an old-fashioned hardware store, the kind with scarred wood floors and dusty shelves displaying every part you’d ever need, whether to repair your lawnmower or build a functional satnav system. The kind where every employee knows the inventory by heart and has worked there at least thirty years.
As I waited, a group of eight or ten very peculiar people in 1960s-era clothing entered the store and filed past me in a line, their eyes averted as if they were embarrassed. The men wore leisure suits and Nehru jackets. The women wore polyester pantsuits and had stiff, bouffant hair and eyes painted with frosted blue shadow. They were so out of place they could have been time travelers to the 21st Century.
Even though they wouldn’t look at me, I had the strong feeling that they were desperate for me to notice them. When I saw that each of them had some physical deformity, it dawned on me that I knew them—these were my Penitent characters. They had come to find me. And bless their hearts, they’d tried to disguise themselves as ordinary hardware store customers by dressing in a way they thought was fashionable for humans.
Dumbfounded to see them in my world, I waited for one of them to say something. They remained silent, though, and soon had looped past me, leaving by the door they’d come in. Then the last one, an austerely handsome, somewhat haughty-looking man (despite his outlandish garb of polyester bellbottoms topped by an open-necked shirt with an oversized collar), stopped in front of me. Unlike the rest, he met my eyes, giving me an appraising look. It was Lugo.
“We just wanted to make sure you’re as comfortable with us as you think you are,” he said. Then he turned and followed the others out of the hardware store, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
It’s now almost thirteen years since I started writing The Space Between. Its sequel, The Realm Below: The Rise of Tanipestis, is nearing completion. After my successful NaNoWriMo experience gave me much-needed confidence, I chose to write it the old-fashioned way. My characters, of course, pitched in to help. We’re very comfortable with each other now.
To all of them, and especially to Lugo, I want to say this: Thank you for your trust, and for choosing me to tell your story. It’s an honor. The next time you need to find me, though, no disguises, okay? Just come as yourselves.
And thank you, Cynthia Hamilton, for allowing me to share the story behind The Space Between!
http://susanrooke.net
https://twitter.com/susanrooke777
https://www.facebook.com/SusanRookeAu...
May 24, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Paul Hollis
Paul Hollis is another talented author I found on Twitter. I was intrigued by his posts and downloaded “The Hollow Man”, the first book in the series by the same name. The opening scene grabbed me right away; it was eerie, suspenseful and full of an uneasiness that hinted at the chain of action-filled events to follow.
Though there are lots of dicey situations and high-stakes drama, the narrator keeps a deadpan sense of humor. His life is constantly at risk, but he is fearlessly compelled to follow the trail of menace that is always just one step ahead of him. He’s cheeky and irreverent, as befits someone in his early-twenties who has no sense of his own mortality.
It wasn’t until I asked Paul if he’d like to share his story behind The Hollow Man series for my Goodreads blog that I learned the hair-raising encounters with terrorists and assassins that feature in his novels are taken from his own adventures in Europe during the early 70s. I was astonished, and it made me enjoy the escapades that much more. I’m halfway through the second book, “London Bridge is Falling Down”, and reading it with a fresh perspective.
It’s my pleasure to share with you the adventures of an accidental undercover agent, spook and fearless champion of law and order. I give you Paul Hollis:
I entered university at the end of 1967 and immediately fell down a rabbit hole into a blossoming subculture rivaling Alice in Wonderland. It was a world of color and light, alternate thinking, and rebellion. Vision quest experiences totally reshaped my reality, figuratively and perhaps a little too literally.
By the summer of 1969, the decade was building toward a historic culmination that would change the world forever in so many unpredictable ways. The Stonewall riots in New York City marked the start of the modern gay rights movement in the U.S. The first U.S. troop withdrawals from Vietnam were under way. Man walked on the moon. Charles Manson and his family came to dinner one night, and stayed. Even the New York Mets were destined to win the World Series.
But a bunch of kids set all of that aside for three days in the middle of August that year. A festival of music and peace took place in upstate New York, mostly unadvertised, and mostly happening without media notice. Woodstock. You all know the story now, but I was there and it’s still imprinted on my brain.
There’s an old saying, “if you remember the ‘60’s, you weren’t there.” But there are some things you never forget. I remember what 19 was like. I remember being hungry, buzzed, and pumped on adrenaline. I was wet and dirty at the same time. We shared what we had and only took what we needed. I remember dancing to the non-stop music permeating it all. What I don’t remember, is another time like that.
So, the stage was set for the end of the best time I ever had. University graduation was on the flats of my horizon and it was time for long delayed decisions. Even though our undeclared war seemed to be slowing its endless advance, surely nothing was set in stone during 1971.
Never thinking more than a day or two in advance, most of my decisions were eventually made for me. As I backed away from war, I inadvertently stepped into the Peace Corp. Who knew I would actually use my college major (Staying-Out-Of-Vietnam)?
They assigned me to an initial tour in Paintsville Kentucky, just off the Cumberland Plateau and a stone’s throw from the Lost World of West Virginia. When I realized they weren’t kidding, I jumped at the unexpected opportunity to visit Africa. Lions and tigers had seemed preferable to dinosaurs, but not by much as it turned out. I found myself knee deep in mud and some kind of animal crap, feeling lost and abandoned at the edge of a rain-soaked crust of ground newly named Tanzania.
Enter another government agency sporting a familiar acronym and a slick tale of do-you-want-to-live-forever? A man in an odd-colored suit offered me unrestricted travel through Europe with an occasional foray into watching, learning, and reporting on terrorist activities. In my defense, it sounded better than what I had at the time.
After three months of hand-to-hand combat and surveillance training, my dream ship ran aground near Munich where I fell overboard, and was immediately over my head. The inspiration for my storylines comes from a series of true incidents that occurred during the early-to-mid-1970’s. The Hollow Man Series traces some of my lesser known experiences traveling in Europe as a young man.
At the time, terrorism was on the rise and I was assigned to learn as much as I could about it. Most early acts of terror were specific, personal and damage was focused on a distinct, definable enemy. But terrorism was beginning to change its face to the familiar, senseless chaos we recognize today. The death of political figures no longer seemed to bother us as much as these new, random attacks against our children. Targets of innocence became preferable to these people because it was the kind of shock and hurt that hit closer to our hearts. The fear inside us grew larger with each incident.
Thus begins The Hollow Man Series…
Find Paul's book on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2L2RNap
Though there are lots of dicey situations and high-stakes drama, the narrator keeps a deadpan sense of humor. His life is constantly at risk, but he is fearlessly compelled to follow the trail of menace that is always just one step ahead of him. He’s cheeky and irreverent, as befits someone in his early-twenties who has no sense of his own mortality.
It wasn’t until I asked Paul if he’d like to share his story behind The Hollow Man series for my Goodreads blog that I learned the hair-raising encounters with terrorists and assassins that feature in his novels are taken from his own adventures in Europe during the early 70s. I was astonished, and it made me enjoy the escapades that much more. I’m halfway through the second book, “London Bridge is Falling Down”, and reading it with a fresh perspective.
It’s my pleasure to share with you the adventures of an accidental undercover agent, spook and fearless champion of law and order. I give you Paul Hollis:
I entered university at the end of 1967 and immediately fell down a rabbit hole into a blossoming subculture rivaling Alice in Wonderland. It was a world of color and light, alternate thinking, and rebellion. Vision quest experiences totally reshaped my reality, figuratively and perhaps a little too literally.
By the summer of 1969, the decade was building toward a historic culmination that would change the world forever in so many unpredictable ways. The Stonewall riots in New York City marked the start of the modern gay rights movement in the U.S. The first U.S. troop withdrawals from Vietnam were under way. Man walked on the moon. Charles Manson and his family came to dinner one night, and stayed. Even the New York Mets were destined to win the World Series.
But a bunch of kids set all of that aside for three days in the middle of August that year. A festival of music and peace took place in upstate New York, mostly unadvertised, and mostly happening without media notice. Woodstock. You all know the story now, but I was there and it’s still imprinted on my brain.
There’s an old saying, “if you remember the ‘60’s, you weren’t there.” But there are some things you never forget. I remember what 19 was like. I remember being hungry, buzzed, and pumped on adrenaline. I was wet and dirty at the same time. We shared what we had and only took what we needed. I remember dancing to the non-stop music permeating it all. What I don’t remember, is another time like that.
So, the stage was set for the end of the best time I ever had. University graduation was on the flats of my horizon and it was time for long delayed decisions. Even though our undeclared war seemed to be slowing its endless advance, surely nothing was set in stone during 1971.
Never thinking more than a day or two in advance, most of my decisions were eventually made for me. As I backed away from war, I inadvertently stepped into the Peace Corp. Who knew I would actually use my college major (Staying-Out-Of-Vietnam)?
They assigned me to an initial tour in Paintsville Kentucky, just off the Cumberland Plateau and a stone’s throw from the Lost World of West Virginia. When I realized they weren’t kidding, I jumped at the unexpected opportunity to visit Africa. Lions and tigers had seemed preferable to dinosaurs, but not by much as it turned out. I found myself knee deep in mud and some kind of animal crap, feeling lost and abandoned at the edge of a rain-soaked crust of ground newly named Tanzania.
Enter another government agency sporting a familiar acronym and a slick tale of do-you-want-to-live-forever? A man in an odd-colored suit offered me unrestricted travel through Europe with an occasional foray into watching, learning, and reporting on terrorist activities. In my defense, it sounded better than what I had at the time.
After three months of hand-to-hand combat and surveillance training, my dream ship ran aground near Munich where I fell overboard, and was immediately over my head. The inspiration for my storylines comes from a series of true incidents that occurred during the early-to-mid-1970’s. The Hollow Man Series traces some of my lesser known experiences traveling in Europe as a young man.
At the time, terrorism was on the rise and I was assigned to learn as much as I could about it. Most early acts of terror were specific, personal and damage was focused on a distinct, definable enemy. But terrorism was beginning to change its face to the familiar, senseless chaos we recognize today. The death of political figures no longer seemed to bother us as much as these new, random attacks against our children. Targets of innocence became preferable to these people because it was the kind of shock and hurt that hit closer to our hearts. The fear inside us grew larger with each incident.
Thus begins The Hollow Man Series…
Find Paul's book on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2L2RNap
May 16, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Jean Lee
Early last year, I was contacted by a lovely woman named Jean Lee. She had come across my book, “Finding Ruth” and wished to extend an invitation to join her group of writers who had banded together to form AlzAuthors, a blog devoted to sharing books on Alzheimer’s with caregivers, families and individuals struggling with the day to day reality of this baffling illness.
Though Alzheimer’s only surfaces toward the end of the book, Jean thought the message I was trying to pass along was powerful: Ask, while you still have the chance.
It wasn’t until I had to go through my mother’s belongings in preparation of her moving into a skilled nursing facility that I realized I didn’t know my mom as a person in her own right. A photo taken of her at nineteen shattered what little I’d known about her life before I came along. It started the journey that led to the book.
In Jean Lee’s case, she knew of her parents’ histories, their strong bond and their love for their daughters. Alzheimer’s snuck into their lives and slowly but insistently began to unravel her parents’ minds.
“Alzheimer’s Daughter” is Jean’s story behind her parents’ love story, a beautifully written account of a love that held fast to the end. It is my pleasure to share Jean Lee’s story with you:
Both of my parents were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s on the same day. They were in their mid-eighties. I was the hometown daughter, working full time as a third grade teacher. My only sibling lived 1,000 miles away.
Despite the distance, my far-away sister was my greatest support¬¬¬¬, my therapist by phone. Early on, about five years before our parents’ diagnosis, conversations with my sister usually started with me talking about the vague, weird things I was observing. Those concerns became more specific, like rotting food in the refrigerator and hushed stories whispered by neighbors that Mom and Dad had gotten lost on the way home from the mall. During those conversations, my sister suggested I begin a journal to document the specifics. Like a traitorous spy, I kept the journal for two years. It became an integral part of our parents’ diagnosis.
Our parents were a tight team. Never did they tattle or express concern about one another. Mom never said things like, “Your dad glides through stop signs.” Dad never mentioned Mom couldn’t remember how to start the washer or move clothes to the dryer. They experienced a simultaneous decline, hand in hand, just like they’d faced everything else in life. I couldn’t rely on one to help me make decisions to safeguard the other. Those painful decisions fell to my sister and me. My sister was often willing to come home with the intention of being the bad guy, delivering the bad news, like when we were moving them from their home to a senior care facility. She allowed me to remain the loving caregiver. I can never thank her enough for being there for me, and I know she feels she can never thank me enough for being there for Mom and Dad.
Over the course of five years and three moves—eventually to a locked memory care unit—our parents died peacefully within one year of each other. Mom died first. When I told Dad, he said, “She was just here, saying she’d wait for me in heaven.” In the year following her death, even though he couldn’t remember he’d had a wife of 60 years, he’d randomly wave at the clouds and say, “I’ll be there soon.”
I told only a hand full of friends and coworkers about our situation. Those I confided in told me I should write a book about this dual decline. I brushed that off, thinking, “I’m drowning, I barely have time to write my lesson plans.” However, when I sat with my father only one week after my mother’s death and Dad said, “Where is that woman I admired?” I came to realize our story could help others.
Many people ask me if writing our story has been cathartic. “Are you at peace with what you wrote?” Nothing could be further from the truth. My parents gave me everything in life, and during the Alzheimer’s process, I felt like I took everything from them. So, even after working on Alzheimer’s Daughter for four years, I released our personal story with great guilt. I really believed I could be struck by lightning as I pushed the final ‘publish’ button.
However, in the aftermath, reader’s reviews have brought peace. During the final cleanout of my parent’s home, while trying to sort treasure from trash, I found my parents’ WWII love letters. I used these letters as chapter beginnings. Readers say the passion and devotion in the letters show the glue that held them together until their last breaths. I believe my parents’ writing is the most beautiful part of the book. In using their words along with my own, I know I pay tribute to them.
As a career educator, I read to learn and solve problems. Reading also guided my way through our Alzheimer’s journey. Each book, each voice, helped strengthen me for difficult times. No story was exactly like mine in that both parents were diagnosed at the same time. So, I added my voice to the choir, writing my story so it may help others through their own journeys.
“Alzheimer’s Daughter” by Jean Lee
https://amzn.to/2InNDNq
Jean’s Bio:
After the publication of Alzheimer’s Daughter, Jean connected with other authors of Alzheimer’s books to co-found https://alzauthors.com. Their mission is to eliminate the stigma and the silence often accompanying a diagnosis, while enabling caregivers and those living with memory impairment to find written resources—memoirs, novels, nonfiction, or blogs—which educate and enlighten.
A year-plus later, the site is now managed by five administrators, and has posted weekly essays from nearly 150 authors with direct links to their books. You can browse the nearly 150 titles about Alzheimer’s and dementia at https://alzauthors.com/bookstore.
Jean has recently published two children’s books, Lexi’s Triplets and Lexi’s Litter of Three about her grandchildren and their beloved pets. She’s busy writing the third book in that series, Julia’s Journey to Her Forever Home.
Though Alzheimer’s only surfaces toward the end of the book, Jean thought the message I was trying to pass along was powerful: Ask, while you still have the chance.
It wasn’t until I had to go through my mother’s belongings in preparation of her moving into a skilled nursing facility that I realized I didn’t know my mom as a person in her own right. A photo taken of her at nineteen shattered what little I’d known about her life before I came along. It started the journey that led to the book.
In Jean Lee’s case, she knew of her parents’ histories, their strong bond and their love for their daughters. Alzheimer’s snuck into their lives and slowly but insistently began to unravel her parents’ minds.
“Alzheimer’s Daughter” is Jean’s story behind her parents’ love story, a beautifully written account of a love that held fast to the end. It is my pleasure to share Jean Lee’s story with you:
Both of my parents were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s on the same day. They were in their mid-eighties. I was the hometown daughter, working full time as a third grade teacher. My only sibling lived 1,000 miles away.
Despite the distance, my far-away sister was my greatest support¬¬¬¬, my therapist by phone. Early on, about five years before our parents’ diagnosis, conversations with my sister usually started with me talking about the vague, weird things I was observing. Those concerns became more specific, like rotting food in the refrigerator and hushed stories whispered by neighbors that Mom and Dad had gotten lost on the way home from the mall. During those conversations, my sister suggested I begin a journal to document the specifics. Like a traitorous spy, I kept the journal for two years. It became an integral part of our parents’ diagnosis.
Our parents were a tight team. Never did they tattle or express concern about one another. Mom never said things like, “Your dad glides through stop signs.” Dad never mentioned Mom couldn’t remember how to start the washer or move clothes to the dryer. They experienced a simultaneous decline, hand in hand, just like they’d faced everything else in life. I couldn’t rely on one to help me make decisions to safeguard the other. Those painful decisions fell to my sister and me. My sister was often willing to come home with the intention of being the bad guy, delivering the bad news, like when we were moving them from their home to a senior care facility. She allowed me to remain the loving caregiver. I can never thank her enough for being there for me, and I know she feels she can never thank me enough for being there for Mom and Dad.
Over the course of five years and three moves—eventually to a locked memory care unit—our parents died peacefully within one year of each other. Mom died first. When I told Dad, he said, “She was just here, saying she’d wait for me in heaven.” In the year following her death, even though he couldn’t remember he’d had a wife of 60 years, he’d randomly wave at the clouds and say, “I’ll be there soon.”
I told only a hand full of friends and coworkers about our situation. Those I confided in told me I should write a book about this dual decline. I brushed that off, thinking, “I’m drowning, I barely have time to write my lesson plans.” However, when I sat with my father only one week after my mother’s death and Dad said, “Where is that woman I admired?” I came to realize our story could help others.
Many people ask me if writing our story has been cathartic. “Are you at peace with what you wrote?” Nothing could be further from the truth. My parents gave me everything in life, and during the Alzheimer’s process, I felt like I took everything from them. So, even after working on Alzheimer’s Daughter for four years, I released our personal story with great guilt. I really believed I could be struck by lightning as I pushed the final ‘publish’ button.
However, in the aftermath, reader’s reviews have brought peace. During the final cleanout of my parent’s home, while trying to sort treasure from trash, I found my parents’ WWII love letters. I used these letters as chapter beginnings. Readers say the passion and devotion in the letters show the glue that held them together until their last breaths. I believe my parents’ writing is the most beautiful part of the book. In using their words along with my own, I know I pay tribute to them.
As a career educator, I read to learn and solve problems. Reading also guided my way through our Alzheimer’s journey. Each book, each voice, helped strengthen me for difficult times. No story was exactly like mine in that both parents were diagnosed at the same time. So, I added my voice to the choir, writing my story so it may help others through their own journeys.
“Alzheimer’s Daughter” by Jean Lee
https://amzn.to/2InNDNq
Jean’s Bio:
After the publication of Alzheimer’s Daughter, Jean connected with other authors of Alzheimer’s books to co-found https://alzauthors.com. Their mission is to eliminate the stigma and the silence often accompanying a diagnosis, while enabling caregivers and those living with memory impairment to find written resources—memoirs, novels, nonfiction, or blogs—which educate and enlighten.
A year-plus later, the site is now managed by five administrators, and has posted weekly essays from nearly 150 authors with direct links to their books. You can browse the nearly 150 titles about Alzheimer’s and dementia at https://alzauthors.com/bookstore.
Jean has recently published two children’s books, Lexi’s Triplets and Lexi’s Litter of Three about her grandchildren and their beloved pets. She’s busy writing the third book in that series, Julia’s Journey to Her Forever Home.
May 9, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Girl Trap
Looking back, I can’t recall exactly what inspired me to create the storyline behind Girl Trap. When things got really intense with my mother’s situation back in 2015, I was forced to put Madeline’s third adventure on hold. When she was moved into a nursing home in Northern California, my thoughts became focused on what my mom’s life had been like from her POV. I needed to understand what had motivated her to make the choices she made. When I finished Finding Ruth, I was so detached from Madeline’s latest adventure—which had been abandoned at 70,000 words—I decided I needed to start from scratch.
I did take one of the threads from the abandoned manuscript, the premise of a woman looking for her estranged daughter whom she hadn’t spoken to in ten years. With sensibilities enhanced by my recent investigation into my mom’s life, I took that premise a different direction than before. Things from the past are always more complex than we can appreciate with a cursory look backwards. Understanding this firsthand gave me a sharper view of what this dormant relationship between Elise Cavanaugh and her daughter really looked like.
In this second crack at the third installment, what I wanted to do was give Mike his own spotlight. Madeline is still the lead dog, but Mike has his own strengths and issues that make him vulnerable and therefore interesting. I introduce his cousin who drives up from L.A. to enlist Mike’s help in locating his girlfriend, April, who has been off the radar for several days.
I also wanted to bring more complexity to the series by getting inside the thoughts of other characters, allowing us to see how they think and feel, as opposed to all the action being funneled through Madeline’s prism. I had done this in Alligators in the Trees and I liked how I was able to flesh out the players, expand their personalities, and gain more insight into what makes them tick.
There is plenty of action and a few nerve-racking moments in this installment. The reason for the title becomes apparent as the story plays out. After finishing the book, I had serious doubts regarding one of the storylines: was it too harsh, too uncomfortable, too awful to think about? I had a panicky few days when I wondered if I had gone too far and needed to walk it back a bit. What I had written had definitely taken me out of my comfort zone. But then I wondered if that was really a bad thing. Isn’t that what happens in truly gripping novels? Isn’t that what happens in real life?
In Girl Trap, I also created a bit of an unknown at the end of the book, not so much a cliffhanger as it is a vehicle for allowing a different form of thought and introspection by the characters in the next book. If any of you have read the previous Madeline books—Spouse Trap and/or A High Price to Pay—I’m curious to know how you would feel about having Madeline and Mike and maybe the bad guys speaking directly to you as opposed to some unseen narrator depicting the story. I would love to get your thoughts on that!
Goodreads is running a Giveaway for Girl Trap, May 10th thru the 22nd. You can sign up to win one of 100 free ebooks. I’ve written this book with enough backstory that if you haven’t already read the first two books in the series, you will not be left in the dark. So, check it out and be sure to enter the drawing!
Also, Spouse Trap will be available for FREE downloading May 9th. You can find out how Madeline Ridley was transformed into Madeline Dawkins, and the hell she had to go through to get her life back. https://amzn.to/2rvFSdC
Here are a few other links:
Girl Trap on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wr67Hf
My website: http://cynthiahamiltonbooks.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCynthiaH
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2IDnLcF
Thank you for reading today’s post!
Until next time,
Very warmest regards,
Cynthia
I did take one of the threads from the abandoned manuscript, the premise of a woman looking for her estranged daughter whom she hadn’t spoken to in ten years. With sensibilities enhanced by my recent investigation into my mom’s life, I took that premise a different direction than before. Things from the past are always more complex than we can appreciate with a cursory look backwards. Understanding this firsthand gave me a sharper view of what this dormant relationship between Elise Cavanaugh and her daughter really looked like.
In this second crack at the third installment, what I wanted to do was give Mike his own spotlight. Madeline is still the lead dog, but Mike has his own strengths and issues that make him vulnerable and therefore interesting. I introduce his cousin who drives up from L.A. to enlist Mike’s help in locating his girlfriend, April, who has been off the radar for several days.
I also wanted to bring more complexity to the series by getting inside the thoughts of other characters, allowing us to see how they think and feel, as opposed to all the action being funneled through Madeline’s prism. I had done this in Alligators in the Trees and I liked how I was able to flesh out the players, expand their personalities, and gain more insight into what makes them tick.
There is plenty of action and a few nerve-racking moments in this installment. The reason for the title becomes apparent as the story plays out. After finishing the book, I had serious doubts regarding one of the storylines: was it too harsh, too uncomfortable, too awful to think about? I had a panicky few days when I wondered if I had gone too far and needed to walk it back a bit. What I had written had definitely taken me out of my comfort zone. But then I wondered if that was really a bad thing. Isn’t that what happens in truly gripping novels? Isn’t that what happens in real life?
In Girl Trap, I also created a bit of an unknown at the end of the book, not so much a cliffhanger as it is a vehicle for allowing a different form of thought and introspection by the characters in the next book. If any of you have read the previous Madeline books—Spouse Trap and/or A High Price to Pay—I’m curious to know how you would feel about having Madeline and Mike and maybe the bad guys speaking directly to you as opposed to some unseen narrator depicting the story. I would love to get your thoughts on that!
Goodreads is running a Giveaway for Girl Trap, May 10th thru the 22nd. You can sign up to win one of 100 free ebooks. I’ve written this book with enough backstory that if you haven’t already read the first two books in the series, you will not be left in the dark. So, check it out and be sure to enter the drawing!
Also, Spouse Trap will be available for FREE downloading May 9th. You can find out how Madeline Ridley was transformed into Madeline Dawkins, and the hell she had to go through to get her life back. https://amzn.to/2rvFSdC
Here are a few other links:
Girl Trap on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wr67Hf
My website: http://cynthiahamiltonbooks.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCynthiaH
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2IDnLcF
Thank you for reading today’s post!
Until next time,
Very warmest regards,
Cynthia
May 3, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Suzy Henderson: The Beauty Shop
Books based on true stories can be incredibly powerful. Especially in cases of courage in the face of overwhelming pain and suffering. When author Suzy Henderson learned of the heroic efforts of soliders fighting against an unimaginable horror and the doctor brave enough and creative enough to patch their lives back together, she knew this was a story that needed to be shared.
In her book, “The Beauty Shop”, she creates characters from a composite of the brave young airmen who risked their lives to defeat Hilter, and the women drawn to their heroism. It is a love story underneath a fascinating look at a history that should never be forgotten. It’s a beautiful work, full of devotion and sacrifice, honor and bravery.
It’s my great pleasure to share with you Suzy Henderson’s Story Behind the Story:
I was inspired to write The Beauty Shop after researching WW2 and RAF Fighter Command, having discovered the story of the Guinea Pig Club, and fighter pilot Geoffrey Page, who suffered horrific burns during the Battle of Britain. What particularly captured my attention was the amazing care Geoff Page received, courtesy of a small cottage hospital deep in the heart of Sussex – the Queen Victoria in East Grinstead. The consultant plastic surgeon there had a unique approach, and I have to say, I was awestruck. The surgeon was New Zealander Archibald McIndoe, the cousin and protégé of Great War plastic surgeon, Sir Harold Gillies.
During WW2, the pilots of Fighter Command faced appalling odds, and 3,690 men lost their lives. And for those serving with Bomber Command, around 55, 573 were killed between 1939 - 1945. A total of 350,000 Americans served with the Eighth Air Force here in Britain. Of this number, 210,000 men flew combat missions, and 26,000 men lost their lives. As well as all those killed, many more suffered serious injuries including amputations and burns. What of them? While many who found themselves in such dire situations felt as if their lives were over, those destined for the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead were certainly the fortunate few, although it would be some time before they realised as much.
When Neville Chamberlain declared war on September 3rd, 1939, Archibald McIndoe and his team were ready and waiting. Archie was an outstanding plastic surgeon with great skill, but even so, the injuries he witnessed shocked him. One day, when faced with a nineteen-year-old pilot who had his entire face burned away, Archie had no option but to experiment. It wasn’t long before the men realised they were simply ‘guinea pigs’ for the Maestro (one of the nicknames they had for Archie).
Above all, Archie treated his patients like human beings and had great empathy. I think he was immensely proud of every one of the men in his care and moved by the sacrifices they had made for King and country, and it was this that made him determined to see that Britain did not abandon them in their hour of need.
When some of the men formed a drinking club in July 1941, they had no idea what they had started. It wasn’t long before the Guinea Pig Club began to attract attention from as far away as America and people sent letters to Archie, with job offers and donations of money for the men. Archie quickly realised the potential of this and applied for the club to be given charity status. Over the years since, the men have been able to access grants to have homes adapted to their needs, establish themselves in business when suitable employment may have been impossible or denied them, and even buy homes.
McIndoe was a great visionary, an innovator, and a pioneer of plastic surgery. Above all, he was a godsend to the men he treated, but the brilliance of this true story runs far deeper than medical care alone. It is a story richly layered with humour, love, pranks and courage, with tragedy at its heart. I wanted to illustrate some of McIndoe’s achievements and show how from such abhorrent times arose magical acts of humanity.
Far from the stereotypical doctor, Archie’s ethos of care was remarkable and ahead of its time. He rocked the boat and shook up the medical establishment to achieve the best for his ‘boys’. Above all, he had their welfare at heart, young men whose latter years of boyhood had been so savagely torn from them as they volunteered or were called up to fight. Often horrifically disfigured, they were left to cope with the consequences alone until Archie strode in and became their advocate. He realised right from the beginning that he was rebuilding bodies and souls. As he once said, “A man disfigured in battle fights that battle for the rest of his life.”
Archie waged his own battle here in England, taking his mission into the heart of East Grinstead. Re-integration of the airmen into society was vital. Realising the enormity of his task, Archie recruited the people of the town to assist. He gave talks, and the people answered the call to duty, with offers of invitations to tea and dances. At Archie’s request, they looked the men in the eye and treated them the same as anyone else and became known as ‘the town that did not stare’.
The hospital ward, nicknamed the ‘beauty shop’, was often a buzz of activity, the air thick with tobacco haze while big band music drifted from the radio day and night. There was dancing, romance, fun, and camaraderie as the men formed a unique bond. Archie even allowed them to have a keg of watered down beer at all times – fluid intake was vital for burns patients!
For me, Sir Archibald McIndoe was an amazing man. When he held out his hand, the men grasped it and held on to hope as he told them, “I’ll fix you up.” Four magical words. He was their saviour and the ‘beauty shop’ was their sanctuary, a place of safety and camaraderie. Archie’s intuitive, caring approach touched all who met him, and he helped so many rise from the ashes. He was an outstanding surgeon and a remarkable philanthropist, and his ‘boys’ and the lives they would go on to lead are his triumph and legacy.
And if you were wondering what happened to Geoffrey Page, he returned to flying duty in 1943 and soon rose to command a squadron, carving out a successful career in the RAF. After the war, he had an equally successful career in civilian life, married and had children. He became an active member in the Battle of Britain Fighter Pilots Associaton and the driving force behind the Battle of Britain Memorial, erected in 1993 atop the White Cliffs of Dover. In 1981, he released his memoir, Tale of a Guinea Pig. Geoffrey Page was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and Bar, the Distinguished Service Order and the Order of Orange Nassau. In 1995 he was awarded the OBE for his great achievements. Geoffrey died in August 2000, aged eighty years old.
In memory of Sir Archibald McIndoe (1900 – 1960). He saw what others did not and pioneered great change.
Bio:
Suzy Henderson lives with her husband and two sons in Cumbria, England, on the edge of the Lake District, a beautiful and inspiring landscape of mountains, fells, and lakes. She never set out to be a writer, although she has always loved reading and experiencing the joy of being swept away to different times and places.
In a previous life she was a Midwife but now works from home as a freelance writer and novelist. While researching her family history, Suzy became fascinated with both World War periods and developed an obsession with military and aviation history. Following the completion of her Open University Degree in English Literature and Creative Writing, she began to write and write until one day she had a novel.
Other interests include music, old movies, and photography – especially if WW2 aircraft are on the radar. Suzy writes contemporary and historical fiction and is a member of the Historical Novel Society and the Alliance of Independent Authors. Her debut novel, The Beauty Shop, has been awarded the B.R.A.G. Medallion.
The universal buy link is: http://myBook.to/TheBeautyShop
https://suzyhendersonauthor.com/
http://lowfellwritersplace.blogspot.c...
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
https://www.facebook.com/SuzyHenderso...
https://twitter.com/Suzy_Henderson
https://plus.google.com/u/0/109057622...
https://uk.linkedin.com/in/suzy-hende...
In her book, “The Beauty Shop”, she creates characters from a composite of the brave young airmen who risked their lives to defeat Hilter, and the women drawn to their heroism. It is a love story underneath a fascinating look at a history that should never be forgotten. It’s a beautiful work, full of devotion and sacrifice, honor and bravery.
It’s my great pleasure to share with you Suzy Henderson’s Story Behind the Story:
I was inspired to write The Beauty Shop after researching WW2 and RAF Fighter Command, having discovered the story of the Guinea Pig Club, and fighter pilot Geoffrey Page, who suffered horrific burns during the Battle of Britain. What particularly captured my attention was the amazing care Geoff Page received, courtesy of a small cottage hospital deep in the heart of Sussex – the Queen Victoria in East Grinstead. The consultant plastic surgeon there had a unique approach, and I have to say, I was awestruck. The surgeon was New Zealander Archibald McIndoe, the cousin and protégé of Great War plastic surgeon, Sir Harold Gillies.
During WW2, the pilots of Fighter Command faced appalling odds, and 3,690 men lost their lives. And for those serving with Bomber Command, around 55, 573 were killed between 1939 - 1945. A total of 350,000 Americans served with the Eighth Air Force here in Britain. Of this number, 210,000 men flew combat missions, and 26,000 men lost their lives. As well as all those killed, many more suffered serious injuries including amputations and burns. What of them? While many who found themselves in such dire situations felt as if their lives were over, those destined for the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead were certainly the fortunate few, although it would be some time before they realised as much.
When Neville Chamberlain declared war on September 3rd, 1939, Archibald McIndoe and his team were ready and waiting. Archie was an outstanding plastic surgeon with great skill, but even so, the injuries he witnessed shocked him. One day, when faced with a nineteen-year-old pilot who had his entire face burned away, Archie had no option but to experiment. It wasn’t long before the men realised they were simply ‘guinea pigs’ for the Maestro (one of the nicknames they had for Archie).
Above all, Archie treated his patients like human beings and had great empathy. I think he was immensely proud of every one of the men in his care and moved by the sacrifices they had made for King and country, and it was this that made him determined to see that Britain did not abandon them in their hour of need.
When some of the men formed a drinking club in July 1941, they had no idea what they had started. It wasn’t long before the Guinea Pig Club began to attract attention from as far away as America and people sent letters to Archie, with job offers and donations of money for the men. Archie quickly realised the potential of this and applied for the club to be given charity status. Over the years since, the men have been able to access grants to have homes adapted to their needs, establish themselves in business when suitable employment may have been impossible or denied them, and even buy homes.
McIndoe was a great visionary, an innovator, and a pioneer of plastic surgery. Above all, he was a godsend to the men he treated, but the brilliance of this true story runs far deeper than medical care alone. It is a story richly layered with humour, love, pranks and courage, with tragedy at its heart. I wanted to illustrate some of McIndoe’s achievements and show how from such abhorrent times arose magical acts of humanity.
Far from the stereotypical doctor, Archie’s ethos of care was remarkable and ahead of its time. He rocked the boat and shook up the medical establishment to achieve the best for his ‘boys’. Above all, he had their welfare at heart, young men whose latter years of boyhood had been so savagely torn from them as they volunteered or were called up to fight. Often horrifically disfigured, they were left to cope with the consequences alone until Archie strode in and became their advocate. He realised right from the beginning that he was rebuilding bodies and souls. As he once said, “A man disfigured in battle fights that battle for the rest of his life.”
Archie waged his own battle here in England, taking his mission into the heart of East Grinstead. Re-integration of the airmen into society was vital. Realising the enormity of his task, Archie recruited the people of the town to assist. He gave talks, and the people answered the call to duty, with offers of invitations to tea and dances. At Archie’s request, they looked the men in the eye and treated them the same as anyone else and became known as ‘the town that did not stare’.
The hospital ward, nicknamed the ‘beauty shop’, was often a buzz of activity, the air thick with tobacco haze while big band music drifted from the radio day and night. There was dancing, romance, fun, and camaraderie as the men formed a unique bond. Archie even allowed them to have a keg of watered down beer at all times – fluid intake was vital for burns patients!
For me, Sir Archibald McIndoe was an amazing man. When he held out his hand, the men grasped it and held on to hope as he told them, “I’ll fix you up.” Four magical words. He was their saviour and the ‘beauty shop’ was their sanctuary, a place of safety and camaraderie. Archie’s intuitive, caring approach touched all who met him, and he helped so many rise from the ashes. He was an outstanding surgeon and a remarkable philanthropist, and his ‘boys’ and the lives they would go on to lead are his triumph and legacy.
And if you were wondering what happened to Geoffrey Page, he returned to flying duty in 1943 and soon rose to command a squadron, carving out a successful career in the RAF. After the war, he had an equally successful career in civilian life, married and had children. He became an active member in the Battle of Britain Fighter Pilots Associaton and the driving force behind the Battle of Britain Memorial, erected in 1993 atop the White Cliffs of Dover. In 1981, he released his memoir, Tale of a Guinea Pig. Geoffrey Page was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and Bar, the Distinguished Service Order and the Order of Orange Nassau. In 1995 he was awarded the OBE for his great achievements. Geoffrey died in August 2000, aged eighty years old.
In memory of Sir Archibald McIndoe (1900 – 1960). He saw what others did not and pioneered great change.
Bio:
Suzy Henderson lives with her husband and two sons in Cumbria, England, on the edge of the Lake District, a beautiful and inspiring landscape of mountains, fells, and lakes. She never set out to be a writer, although she has always loved reading and experiencing the joy of being swept away to different times and places.
In a previous life she was a Midwife but now works from home as a freelance writer and novelist. While researching her family history, Suzy became fascinated with both World War periods and developed an obsession with military and aviation history. Following the completion of her Open University Degree in English Literature and Creative Writing, she began to write and write until one day she had a novel.
Other interests include music, old movies, and photography – especially if WW2 aircraft are on the radar. Suzy writes contemporary and historical fiction and is a member of the Historical Novel Society and the Alliance of Independent Authors. Her debut novel, The Beauty Shop, has been awarded the B.R.A.G. Medallion.
The universal buy link is: http://myBook.to/TheBeautyShop
https://suzyhendersonauthor.com/
http://lowfellwritersplace.blogspot.c...
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
https://www.facebook.com/SuzyHenderso...
https://twitter.com/Suzy_Henderson
https://plus.google.com/u/0/109057622...
https://uk.linkedin.com/in/suzy-hende...
April 26, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Finding Ruth
It never occurred to me to write a book about my mom, for several reasons. But discovering a photo taken of her when she was just nineteen made me realize how little I knew about her life before I came along. I imagine she kept those precious, shining memories of her first two decades safely locked away, as if sharing them with her children would somehow dilute their potency. It’s real to me those private, treasured keepsakes were the only things she had to turn to for reaffirmation of life when things got really bad, which they did, often.
I would’ve loved knowing more about that time in my mother’s life, when it looked like her future would be as promising and rich as her formative years had been. From this distance I can’t recall ever asking her about her past, though kids are naturally curious creatures. She may have deflected my questions, preferring not to share her treasured or painful memories, though it may have benefited us both tremendously if she had. But once I found that mesmerizing photo of her, one that revealed a side of her I’d never seen before, it was too late. That memory, along with most all of her past, had already been obscured by Alzheimer’s.
The fact that photographs from that period were kept hidden away from her three children says a lot; those memories were precious to her and they belonged to a time when she felt completely in control of her life and her destiny. There is so much I will never know about her first marriage, though I remember the precious artifacts that managed to survive the divorce: the silver serving bowls and the lead crystal stemware, pieces she brought out on holidays. Being young, we knew nothing of their worth, though their value was obvious by the way she lovingly handled them. Her treasures became our treasures.
But what of that man she had married? I don’t think he would’ve ever come up if it hadn’t been for the finery that appeared on our table a couple times a year. I do remember her telling us they had been married for five years, probably in response to relentless badgering on our part. But the romance, the nuts and bolts of their life together—that remained a mystery to us.
I can only imagine that my mother guarded her past the way she guarded her keepsakes; that period in her life was one of the few things her children and subsequent husbands couldn’t take away from her.
She held out hope that she’d reclaim the life she’d been destined for, accepting marriage proposals fast and furiously after she had finally extricated herself from our father. She held her cards close to her chest, but she made sure we were taken care of and kept safe. I guess that’s all she felt we needed to know.
I think part of our mother’s reticence had to do with the time she was born into. I also think disappointment over the way her life had played out weighed heavily on her. As I entered my teens, she accepted four marriage proposals in two years, and the only reason I know this for a fact is because that hauntingly beautiful photo of her made me do a deep dive into her past. I remembered the men; they were hard to forget. What I didn’t remember was their lightning-fast passage through our lives. Marriage and divorce records supplied the astonishing timeframe.
The more I pieced together about my mom’s life, the more I realized how distant we were. I know I shared openly with her about my life once I was out of the house for good. But there had been so much more recent drama in my mom’s life, I guess it never occurred to me to dig deeper in hopes of finding happy memories.
As the years passed, our relationship became more volatile. There were triggers I wasn’t privy to that would set her off. Lost promise and crushing heartache had melded into a festering disillusionment that spilled out of her at what seemed to me very inappropriate times. Having tilled up her past, I can see what sparked her feelings of resentment and hurt. But at the time, those episodes were baffling to me and only served to put a greater distance between us.
Time doesn’t always heal old wounds. The only respite my mom got from her painful past has come courtesy of Alzheimer’s. In this less-encumbered state of mind, my sister, brother and I have gotten to know a kinder, gentler woman, the essence of that beautiful young being that had so much to look forward to in life, the life that despite her best efforts always eluded her.
Ruth celebrated her 88th birthday last month. None of us expected her to live this long, least of all her! The child-like delight she took in the flowers and sweets that marked the occasion filled her three adult children with love and gratitude, not only for her strength and determination to carry out her duty as a mother, but for the peace and serenity that has been restored to her soul. She’s still every bit as beautiful as she was in that photo taken in 1949, inside and out.
“Finding Ruth” will be available for FREE downloading, April 26th and 27th. https://amzn.to/2kqZyOm
“Spouse Trap”—the prequel to the Madeline Dawkins series—is also FREE April 26th thru the 28th, in anticipation of the upcoming release of the third book in the series, “Girl Trap”.
https://amzn.to/2ADADu0
Check them out and let me know what you think!
Happy reading!
Until next time,
Cynthia
I would’ve loved knowing more about that time in my mother’s life, when it looked like her future would be as promising and rich as her formative years had been. From this distance I can’t recall ever asking her about her past, though kids are naturally curious creatures. She may have deflected my questions, preferring not to share her treasured or painful memories, though it may have benefited us both tremendously if she had. But once I found that mesmerizing photo of her, one that revealed a side of her I’d never seen before, it was too late. That memory, along with most all of her past, had already been obscured by Alzheimer’s.
The fact that photographs from that period were kept hidden away from her three children says a lot; those memories were precious to her and they belonged to a time when she felt completely in control of her life and her destiny. There is so much I will never know about her first marriage, though I remember the precious artifacts that managed to survive the divorce: the silver serving bowls and the lead crystal stemware, pieces she brought out on holidays. Being young, we knew nothing of their worth, though their value was obvious by the way she lovingly handled them. Her treasures became our treasures.
But what of that man she had married? I don’t think he would’ve ever come up if it hadn’t been for the finery that appeared on our table a couple times a year. I do remember her telling us they had been married for five years, probably in response to relentless badgering on our part. But the romance, the nuts and bolts of their life together—that remained a mystery to us.
I can only imagine that my mother guarded her past the way she guarded her keepsakes; that period in her life was one of the few things her children and subsequent husbands couldn’t take away from her.
She held out hope that she’d reclaim the life she’d been destined for, accepting marriage proposals fast and furiously after she had finally extricated herself from our father. She held her cards close to her chest, but she made sure we were taken care of and kept safe. I guess that’s all she felt we needed to know.
I think part of our mother’s reticence had to do with the time she was born into. I also think disappointment over the way her life had played out weighed heavily on her. As I entered my teens, she accepted four marriage proposals in two years, and the only reason I know this for a fact is because that hauntingly beautiful photo of her made me do a deep dive into her past. I remembered the men; they were hard to forget. What I didn’t remember was their lightning-fast passage through our lives. Marriage and divorce records supplied the astonishing timeframe.
The more I pieced together about my mom’s life, the more I realized how distant we were. I know I shared openly with her about my life once I was out of the house for good. But there had been so much more recent drama in my mom’s life, I guess it never occurred to me to dig deeper in hopes of finding happy memories.
As the years passed, our relationship became more volatile. There were triggers I wasn’t privy to that would set her off. Lost promise and crushing heartache had melded into a festering disillusionment that spilled out of her at what seemed to me very inappropriate times. Having tilled up her past, I can see what sparked her feelings of resentment and hurt. But at the time, those episodes were baffling to me and only served to put a greater distance between us.
Time doesn’t always heal old wounds. The only respite my mom got from her painful past has come courtesy of Alzheimer’s. In this less-encumbered state of mind, my sister, brother and I have gotten to know a kinder, gentler woman, the essence of that beautiful young being that had so much to look forward to in life, the life that despite her best efforts always eluded her.
Ruth celebrated her 88th birthday last month. None of us expected her to live this long, least of all her! The child-like delight she took in the flowers and sweets that marked the occasion filled her three adult children with love and gratitude, not only for her strength and determination to carry out her duty as a mother, but for the peace and serenity that has been restored to her soul. She’s still every bit as beautiful as she was in that photo taken in 1949, inside and out.
“Finding Ruth” will be available for FREE downloading, April 26th and 27th. https://amzn.to/2kqZyOm
“Spouse Trap”—the prequel to the Madeline Dawkins series—is also FREE April 26th thru the 28th, in anticipation of the upcoming release of the third book in the series, “Girl Trap”.
https://amzn.to/2ADADu0
Check them out and let me know what you think!
Happy reading!
Until next time,
Cynthia
April 19, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: David Lucero "Big Jim"
The best thing about reading is having the opportunity to go on adventures you know you’ll never get around to taking. “Big Jim” by David Lucero is a good case in point. Through his novel, I was able to travel back in time and halfway around the world to experience the thrills and danger of a big game hunt, from the prospective of an unlikely duo who earn a living through safaris and their work for governments intent on balancing the needs and safety of man and beast. It is full of colorful imagery and even a few famous people of that era, giving the story an extra garnish of reality.
Here is David Lucero’s story behind the story:
“Big Jim” is my 3rd published novel, and I had most fun with this one due to the extensive research required. I know that sounds like choosing a favorite child, but after reading my explanation perhaps you’ll understand my reasons.
My inspiration for this book came from some of my favorite movies about Africa. Films like Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952), Mogambo (1953), The MacComber Affair (1948), and King Solomon’s Mines (1951) all left lasting impressions with me, so much that a picture safari in Africa is on my Bucket List. The safari scenes were amazing, filled with romance, danger, and intrigue.
A challenging question from readers is, “How can you write a story about a place or subject you’ve never visited or done?”
It’s a good question, and the answer has always been better. “Writing is about imagination, not necessarily one’s experiences.”
Imagine if George Lucas never wrote STAR WARS because he’d never traveled into space. We’d have missed out on a number of terrific movies and follow-up novels. With this in mind, I used my imagination and decided to write a story about an African safari filled with romance, danger, and suspense.
I revisited the films mentioned above to get the feel for what I searched for in my story. I read JAWS when I decided to have my main character face off with a mystical creature summoned by a witch doctor angry with local villagers who doubted his black magic. I felt that particular book would help me get the feel for a man-against-beast theme. I was not disappointed by the late Peter Benchley’s novel.
I read books by real-life professional hunters like Peter Hathaway Capstick (Death in the Long Grass), Brian Herne (White Hungers: The Golden Age of African Safaris), Robert Ruark (Horn of the Hunter), Ernest Hemingway (Green Hills of Africa), and many more. In fact, I read 12 books in all during my research for this story. All provided a wealth of information which made my story, characters, and period authentic. My biggest challenge was creating a theme which depicted an adventurous safari, one that did not focus on hunting, but rather the beauty and wonder of Africa. I don’t hunt and have no interest in doing so, but I have always been intrigued by the hunter’s role in leading a safari into the wild.
To keep the theme romantic, I chose the year 1953, which was when the craze for going on safaris was at its height. In fact, many of the people mentioned in my book were real-life hunters, hotel workers, safari company owners and such. My characters interact with them quite a lot and I challenge readers to google their names for fun and to learn more about them.
I had a great time adding famous actors and singers in my story who were there during this period, but you’ll have to read the book to find out who they are—no spoiler alerts from me about them! Learning how many hunters risk losing licenses over hunting accidents provided the idea for having my main character placed on probation when such an incident occurs.
This also allowed me to introduce a female reporter working for a magazine which wanted photographs and a story about African safaris. Having her hire my main character who needed the publicity in light of all the fierce competition, provided me the opportunity I needed to keep my story focused on the wonders of an African safari versus the brutality of hunting. You see, the female reporter needed to learn things about Africa for her story, and my hunters explained what she needed to know. This added something to my book which I did not originally intend, which was to provide something of an education for readers about safaris, wildlife, and the land itself.
I also learned what the Hunters Code is, and I now have renewed respect for them. I have not been a person who favors hunting and my book in no way focuses on that aspect of safaris, though it was necessary for me to add hunting scenes to keep my story authentic. Their code I learned about during my research opened my eyes to why they hunt and the respect they have for the animals they kill, or in some cases, are themselves killed by the animals they track.
I hope you enjoyed this look behind the story of ‘Big Jim.’ My book(s) are available in paperback, kindle, and kindleunlimited. I appreciate any and all reviews on Amazon.com and Goodreads.com, and my website www.lucerobooks.com
Feel free to follow me on:
Twitter @DavidLucero
Facebook at David Lucero Author Page
Keep on reading, and I’ll keep on writing!
David Lucero
Here is David Lucero’s story behind the story:
“Big Jim” is my 3rd published novel, and I had most fun with this one due to the extensive research required. I know that sounds like choosing a favorite child, but after reading my explanation perhaps you’ll understand my reasons.
My inspiration for this book came from some of my favorite movies about Africa. Films like Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952), Mogambo (1953), The MacComber Affair (1948), and King Solomon’s Mines (1951) all left lasting impressions with me, so much that a picture safari in Africa is on my Bucket List. The safari scenes were amazing, filled with romance, danger, and intrigue.
A challenging question from readers is, “How can you write a story about a place or subject you’ve never visited or done?”
It’s a good question, and the answer has always been better. “Writing is about imagination, not necessarily one’s experiences.”
Imagine if George Lucas never wrote STAR WARS because he’d never traveled into space. We’d have missed out on a number of terrific movies and follow-up novels. With this in mind, I used my imagination and decided to write a story about an African safari filled with romance, danger, and suspense.
I revisited the films mentioned above to get the feel for what I searched for in my story. I read JAWS when I decided to have my main character face off with a mystical creature summoned by a witch doctor angry with local villagers who doubted his black magic. I felt that particular book would help me get the feel for a man-against-beast theme. I was not disappointed by the late Peter Benchley’s novel.
I read books by real-life professional hunters like Peter Hathaway Capstick (Death in the Long Grass), Brian Herne (White Hungers: The Golden Age of African Safaris), Robert Ruark (Horn of the Hunter), Ernest Hemingway (Green Hills of Africa), and many more. In fact, I read 12 books in all during my research for this story. All provided a wealth of information which made my story, characters, and period authentic. My biggest challenge was creating a theme which depicted an adventurous safari, one that did not focus on hunting, but rather the beauty and wonder of Africa. I don’t hunt and have no interest in doing so, but I have always been intrigued by the hunter’s role in leading a safari into the wild.
To keep the theme romantic, I chose the year 1953, which was when the craze for going on safaris was at its height. In fact, many of the people mentioned in my book were real-life hunters, hotel workers, safari company owners and such. My characters interact with them quite a lot and I challenge readers to google their names for fun and to learn more about them.
I had a great time adding famous actors and singers in my story who were there during this period, but you’ll have to read the book to find out who they are—no spoiler alerts from me about them! Learning how many hunters risk losing licenses over hunting accidents provided the idea for having my main character placed on probation when such an incident occurs.
This also allowed me to introduce a female reporter working for a magazine which wanted photographs and a story about African safaris. Having her hire my main character who needed the publicity in light of all the fierce competition, provided me the opportunity I needed to keep my story focused on the wonders of an African safari versus the brutality of hunting. You see, the female reporter needed to learn things about Africa for her story, and my hunters explained what she needed to know. This added something to my book which I did not originally intend, which was to provide something of an education for readers about safaris, wildlife, and the land itself.
I also learned what the Hunters Code is, and I now have renewed respect for them. I have not been a person who favors hunting and my book in no way focuses on that aspect of safaris, though it was necessary for me to add hunting scenes to keep my story authentic. Their code I learned about during my research opened my eyes to why they hunt and the respect they have for the animals they kill, or in some cases, are themselves killed by the animals they track.
I hope you enjoyed this look behind the story of ‘Big Jim.’ My book(s) are available in paperback, kindle, and kindleunlimited. I appreciate any and all reviews on Amazon.com and Goodreads.com, and my website www.lucerobooks.com
Feel free to follow me on:
Twitter @DavidLucero
Facebook at David Lucero Author Page
Keep on reading, and I’ll keep on writing!
David Lucero
April 12, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Laurie L.C. Lewis
“The Dragons of Alsace Farm” by Laurie L.C. Lewis touches on many different themes as it explores the lives that come together on a once thriving farm. The one thing that unites all the characters besides the farm itself is their troubled pasts. Even Noah and Tayte, two young people with their whole lives ahead of them, have potent demons that haunt them. The author creates each one carefully, fleshing out their quirks and fears and the reasons behind them.
The action that brings all the players of this complex drama together is the decline of Agnes, a widow whose mind has become unreliable. Alzheimer’s becomes the catalyst for examination and healing. It’s a beautiful, powerful story, intricate and compelling.
It’s my sincere pleasure to share Laurie Lewis’s story behind The Dragons of Alsace Farm:
Cynthia, thank you for inviting me to share “the story behind the story” that became my award-winning novel, The Dragons of Alsace Farm. Like our family, my proposed WWII mystery was also changed by our mother’s diagnosis of dementia. “Dragons,” and in particular, the character Agnes, were inspired by Mom and her last year on her beloved and bedraggled farm.
Visible changes began occurring in Mom after our father passed away in 2000. He had been ill and caring for him had formed the structure and routine of Mom’s day. Most of the farm animals had been sold to ease her work load while she cared for Dad, but what we believed was depression appeared to set in after Dad’s passing, so efforts were made to restore some routine to Mom’s life by purchasing new animals and getting her farm running again to give her a new daily purpose. The plan worked, and for ten years, Mom invested her love and time in her little farm.
I was outlining a WWII mystery about Nazi-stolen art, but progress on the book slowed when our previously happy, healthy mother began getting sick regularly, and exhibited extreme anxiety, needing more of our time and help. Her mood swings were erratic, and her reality became very skewed. She was no longer able to manage her home, the farm, or her money. We also noticed that her hygiene and cooking skills were slipping, like everything else.
Over and over, we took her to her internist, pulling the physician aside to express our concerns that something was amiss. Each time, Mom charmed her doctor, redirecting all questions about her health and routine to other topics with the skill of a railroad switch operator. The doctor brushed our concerns aside and we were dismissed without getting any solid help. As the changes increased, a neurologist finally agreed to test Mom, and the results showed that she was midway on the dementia spectrum. Fear became her new reality. Fear, frustration, and guilt became ours.
After interviews with caregivers, loved ones, and health care providers, we realized that many families are impacted by dementia in some way, but like us, most don’t catch the signs in time to intervene early. I decided to address these issues by modeling my WWII survivor—Agnes—after Mom, and placing her on the dementia spectrum, allowing me to offer readers a glimpse into the symptoms of the disease, and the impact it has on individuals and entire families.
Paranoia is a major component of dementia, and Mom’s paranoia manifested in mistrust and suspicion of her children. Most of our efforts to intervene were countered with anger. Fortunately, soon after Mom’s diagnosis, we found a young couple with mild disabilities who wanted more independence. They moved into Mom’s home for a time, offering farm help and companionship in exchange for rent. Mom believed she was helping them, and they felt they were helping her. As a result, the three of them rose above their limitations to lift and serve one another. The results were glorious for the first few months, and Mom was ecstatically happy, but as the couple’s independence increased, so did Mom’s dependence upon them, until her possessiveness turned into anger. To our dismay, the arrangement eventually fell apart.
Inspired by the early observations of their arrangement, I decided to introduce this dynamic into the book. I turned to two friends/family therapists to help me accurately create Noah and Tayte—characters not mentally impaired, but twenty-somethings whose emotional baggage would impact Agnes much as this young couple had impacted Mom. My mystery had now morphed into a family drama about internal dragons—the fears and secrets we all battle.
It’s been very gratifying to see how people are reacting to the book. Many say it hits close to home. Readers love the characters, especially Agnes, who reminds them of some loved one who has been similarly affected by dementia. They also mention the hopeful, redemptive message in The Dragons of Alsace Farm. I was thrilled by the awards “Dragons” has won—the 2017 RONE Award for Inspirational fiction, Inspirational Fiction Medallions from New Apple Literary and BRAGG, and it was named a finalist for a 2016 Whitney Award.
On a personal note, writing “Dragons” was cathartic and healing. Creating Agnes’s scenes helped me step away from my concerns and see things from Mom’s perspective. Like Tayte, I finally stopped trying to “restore” her, and learned to appreciate her for whom, and where, she is. Like Noah, I recognize that she still remembers what matters most—love.
Laurie Lewis
*** “The Dragons of Alsace Farm” can be downloaded for FREE 4-12-18! Laurie’s latest book, “Love on a Limb” will be also be FREE on 4-13-18! Grab both and enjoy! Click on the last two links below:
Website: https://bit.ly/2uZqx9v
VIP Readers’ Club: https://bit.ly/2m9Cm84
Twitter: https://bit.ly/2ExthKN
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2GNeoG8
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2kmLi7W
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2GM3swx
“The Dragons of Alsace Farm”: https://amzn.to/2v8FaqS
“Love on a Limb”: https://amzn.to/2EBoHLv
The action that brings all the players of this complex drama together is the decline of Agnes, a widow whose mind has become unreliable. Alzheimer’s becomes the catalyst for examination and healing. It’s a beautiful, powerful story, intricate and compelling.
It’s my sincere pleasure to share Laurie Lewis’s story behind The Dragons of Alsace Farm:
Cynthia, thank you for inviting me to share “the story behind the story” that became my award-winning novel, The Dragons of Alsace Farm. Like our family, my proposed WWII mystery was also changed by our mother’s diagnosis of dementia. “Dragons,” and in particular, the character Agnes, were inspired by Mom and her last year on her beloved and bedraggled farm.
Visible changes began occurring in Mom after our father passed away in 2000. He had been ill and caring for him had formed the structure and routine of Mom’s day. Most of the farm animals had been sold to ease her work load while she cared for Dad, but what we believed was depression appeared to set in after Dad’s passing, so efforts were made to restore some routine to Mom’s life by purchasing new animals and getting her farm running again to give her a new daily purpose. The plan worked, and for ten years, Mom invested her love and time in her little farm.
I was outlining a WWII mystery about Nazi-stolen art, but progress on the book slowed when our previously happy, healthy mother began getting sick regularly, and exhibited extreme anxiety, needing more of our time and help. Her mood swings were erratic, and her reality became very skewed. She was no longer able to manage her home, the farm, or her money. We also noticed that her hygiene and cooking skills were slipping, like everything else.
Over and over, we took her to her internist, pulling the physician aside to express our concerns that something was amiss. Each time, Mom charmed her doctor, redirecting all questions about her health and routine to other topics with the skill of a railroad switch operator. The doctor brushed our concerns aside and we were dismissed without getting any solid help. As the changes increased, a neurologist finally agreed to test Mom, and the results showed that she was midway on the dementia spectrum. Fear became her new reality. Fear, frustration, and guilt became ours.
After interviews with caregivers, loved ones, and health care providers, we realized that many families are impacted by dementia in some way, but like us, most don’t catch the signs in time to intervene early. I decided to address these issues by modeling my WWII survivor—Agnes—after Mom, and placing her on the dementia spectrum, allowing me to offer readers a glimpse into the symptoms of the disease, and the impact it has on individuals and entire families.
Paranoia is a major component of dementia, and Mom’s paranoia manifested in mistrust and suspicion of her children. Most of our efforts to intervene were countered with anger. Fortunately, soon after Mom’s diagnosis, we found a young couple with mild disabilities who wanted more independence. They moved into Mom’s home for a time, offering farm help and companionship in exchange for rent. Mom believed she was helping them, and they felt they were helping her. As a result, the three of them rose above their limitations to lift and serve one another. The results were glorious for the first few months, and Mom was ecstatically happy, but as the couple’s independence increased, so did Mom’s dependence upon them, until her possessiveness turned into anger. To our dismay, the arrangement eventually fell apart.
Inspired by the early observations of their arrangement, I decided to introduce this dynamic into the book. I turned to two friends/family therapists to help me accurately create Noah and Tayte—characters not mentally impaired, but twenty-somethings whose emotional baggage would impact Agnes much as this young couple had impacted Mom. My mystery had now morphed into a family drama about internal dragons—the fears and secrets we all battle.
It’s been very gratifying to see how people are reacting to the book. Many say it hits close to home. Readers love the characters, especially Agnes, who reminds them of some loved one who has been similarly affected by dementia. They also mention the hopeful, redemptive message in The Dragons of Alsace Farm. I was thrilled by the awards “Dragons” has won—the 2017 RONE Award for Inspirational fiction, Inspirational Fiction Medallions from New Apple Literary and BRAGG, and it was named a finalist for a 2016 Whitney Award.
On a personal note, writing “Dragons” was cathartic and healing. Creating Agnes’s scenes helped me step away from my concerns and see things from Mom’s perspective. Like Tayte, I finally stopped trying to “restore” her, and learned to appreciate her for whom, and where, she is. Like Noah, I recognize that she still remembers what matters most—love.
Laurie Lewis
*** “The Dragons of Alsace Farm” can be downloaded for FREE 4-12-18! Laurie’s latest book, “Love on a Limb” will be also be FREE on 4-13-18! Grab both and enjoy! Click on the last two links below:
Website: https://bit.ly/2uZqx9v
VIP Readers’ Club: https://bit.ly/2m9Cm84
Twitter: https://bit.ly/2ExthKN
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2GNeoG8
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2kmLi7W
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2GM3swx
“The Dragons of Alsace Farm”: https://amzn.to/2v8FaqS
“Love on a Limb”: https://amzn.to/2EBoHLv
April 5, 2018
The Story Behind the Story: Kerensa Jennings "Seas of Snow"
I think most of us readers know when we’ve stumbled onto something universally powerful. Books like TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, THE GRAPES OF WRATH, WAR AND PEACE, THE NIGHTINGALE take us on journeys we know from the start are going to be painful. Yet we are intrigued by the premise and the promise of a glimpse of life that we are not familiar with. And though that trepidation haunts us, we can’t put the book down because the story and the writing are so compelling.
After getting on Twitter last year, I discovered Kerensa Jennings and her book SEAS OF SNOW. I downloaded a sample and was immediately drawn in by the writing. It was captivating, but also ominous. At the end of the sample, I had to ask myself if I was up to pursuing a novel that was sure to lead me into a dark, perhaps tragic place. Though I opted for lighter fare, I ultimately came back to it.
I guess the power of the written word is its ability to change one’s perception of life. Or at least challenge it. As I read through beautiful passages of love and friendship that snaked toward a deceptive menace, I experienced a kaleidoscope of emotions. To find out later the book was based on a true story made it that much more profound.
It’s my pleasure to share Kerensa Jennings’ Story Behind the Story of THE SEAS OF SNOW on the day it has become available in paperback one year after its tremendous debut:
As a journalist who worked in television for many years, I was exposed to some of the best and worst of humanity. I have filmed in refugee camps where former child soldiers were teaching little children how to read and write. Directed the shoot of a life-saving quadruple heart by-pass operation. Made films for Make Poverty History, Comic Relief and Live8. Seen horrific rushes of suicide bombings, raw footage from terrorist attacks (including 9/11), and the unedited aftermaths of devastating earthquakes and floods.
When I was Programme Editor of Breakfast with Frost with Sir David Frost, I was lucky enough to make programmes with a host of the world’s most famous people including world leaders, and stars from stage, screen, sport and music. The programme with Nelson Mandela is one of the highlights of my life—such an inspiring man. Such an extraordinary life.
Nothing I experienced throughout my TV career affected me as profoundly, or impacted me as emotionally, as the Soham Investigation. This was a deeply upsetting case where a school caretaker called Ian Huntley had murdered two little girls. Ten years old and full of dazzling life. That man took everything those little girls had away from them. Destroyed their families. Eviscerated a community. Horrified a nation.
I was leading the BBC News coverage of the case. And it affected me profoundly.
As the months wore on, we learned more about what happened, and the mind and motives of that man. A picture of a psychopath emerged. Repeated behaviours, perverse inclinations, monstrous outcomes. I cried myself to sleep, privately, and often.
In the years that followed I wanted to learn more about what makes us human. What makes us do what we do. The heart, the brain, the soul. The nuances and subtleties and differences between us. Whether evil is born or made.
The BBC had been selected by Cambridgeshire Constabulary to work closely with them during the months of the investigation. They had quite rightly responded to the extraordinary levels of public interest in the case and wanted to be able to tell their story. They felt a huge responsibility to do the right thing by the families and friends of the two little girls whose lives were so brutally stolen from them. The community in Soham discovered they had a killer in their midst, and two people who were prepared to hide in plain sight, telling lies after lies after lies to anyone who would listen. The nation was appalled and devastated that a man employed as a school caretaker could have committed such a monstrous act.
I led the BBC News and Current Affairs coverage of the investigation. What this entailed included becoming very familiar with the evidence the police gathered and gaining an insight into the way they worked.
On one particular day, I was in a dark room by myself, spooling through tapes of police evidence, marking up the sections I thought we might want to use in the BBC coverage. I came across a tape marked ‘Deposition Site’. I just popped it into the machine and began to watch. The footage showed the girls’ remains, which had been discovered in woodland around RAF Lakenheath. The images burned into my retina.
A number of months later, as a member of the media, I had to sit behind the school caretaker, Ian Huntley, day after day after day at the Old Bailey. I felt overcome by revulsion. To this day, I’d say it is the most gruelling and emotionally draining experience of my life.
During the intervening months, I reflected long and hard on all the evidence, including some of the other police tapes I had watched, such as the significant witness interviews of both Ian Huntley and his then live-in girlfriend, classroom assistant Maxine Carr. It was staggering to see with my own eyes the blatant lies that were told, with such conviction and plausibility. Despite all the mountain of evidence that proved they were speaking well-rehearsed lines, not truths.
I developed a fascination for trying to understand what on earth could motivate a person to behave in such an inhuman way. I found myself seeking out articles, books and academic studies about psychopaths. I even ended up training and qualifying as an Executive Coach so I could formally learn the disciplines of psychology. I wanted to explore whether evil is born or made, which is the question at the heart of SEAS OF SNOW.
I learned that psychopaths are incapable of feeling empathy. They can manipulate and lie with ease. They can be charming and believable. They are often with us across society, hiding in plain sight. The difference is, not everyone born a psychopath ends up committing horrific acts.
I ended up writing my story as a process of catharsis. I always find I am able to process my emotions and responses to things most effectively when I write. I also drew on other themes that have absorbed me for years—such as good versus evil; fairy tales; and the way poetry can offer solace and escape from life’s greatest torments.
I also wanted the story to hopefully touch readers, and to create that feeling in them of wanting to hug the children in their lives that little bit tighter. It’s crime fiction, a psychological thriller, and draws also on fairy tale for inspiration with both poetry and literary elements. Somewhat genre-defying. Reviewers have said it’s ‘an astonishing book’; ‘my book of the year, if not the decade’; ‘An important and brave book that forces you to reassess family and society in equal measure’ and ‘A fabulous story, hauntingly magical, with an almost hypnotic quality.’
My training as a literary critic as a student at Oxford shaped me and inspired me. Over the years, I kept coming back to texts I had discovered while I was there. The pieces that lifted me, the verses that helped me make sense of the world and its pain. The lines that gave me solace and comfort through periods of intense difficulty in my own personal life.
All these influences began to percolate together somehow. The life of a psychopath. The workings of the mind. The sometime darkness - and the ephemerality - of humanity. The ability of literature to light up the world, illuminate understanding, and provide succour. All these threads were coming together and I knew I needed to write a story to share with others what I was feeling. And I needed closure, catharsis.
And with that, the idea for SEAS OF SNOW was born.
Written with the duality of two protagonists, an evil man and an innocent little girl, the story is set in a sleepy village in 1950s Tyneside, North East England. The book dances through time, backwards and forwards between the literary reveries and physical abuses of the young girl, Gracie; and the old woman of today, frail and isolated in a nursing home. Billy Harper, Gracie's childhood friend, is the only solid presence in her life, and seemingly the only constant. Diaries and poetry books bind the story and the characters. It is a story of lost innocence, betrayal and broken trust. It is a story of consequences.
Certain objects act as a touchstone between the memories of Gracie’s childhood life and the stark realities of the old woman’s existence. A crucifix, a locket, a perfume bottle, a piece of embroidery, a curl of hair and the cinnamon scent of books weave the times and places of the story together.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke’s dragons and princesses prose poem becomes a talisman for Gracie, tying in with her childhood games with Billy. And as she discovers his poetry, her fascination for the fact he wrote his own epitaph inspires her to write her own. Suddenly life is beginning to take on a new sense of meaning and understanding. But it is her uncle Joe who carries the momentum of the story. He intrudes on her while she takes a bath—a tableau that gradually unfolds through intermittent, evolving scenes as the book progresses. The scent of lemons in the air from the bubble bath reprises the first sensory impact Gracie had on Joe – as he locks the door and refuses to leave.
SEAS OF SNOW is also a love letter to literature. Thematic influences include the paralysis and inability to act of Hamlet. How a person's reluctance to face up to truth and do what is right can wreak such havoc and destruction. Literary influences include Nabokov's Lolita. I have always been mesmerised by the understatement of the writing in this novel—how despite the apparent salaciousness of the first chapters, what emerges as the book unfolds is how the writer leaves so much up to the imagination of the reader. SEAS OF SNOW does something similar. There is a subtlety in some of the most brutal scenes. The reader pieces together the full horror of what is unfolding; there is a deliberate delicacy in the writing.
https://amzn.to/2Ixtccb
https://amzn.to/2q5dTQA
Soham investigation
After getting on Twitter last year, I discovered Kerensa Jennings and her book SEAS OF SNOW. I downloaded a sample and was immediately drawn in by the writing. It was captivating, but also ominous. At the end of the sample, I had to ask myself if I was up to pursuing a novel that was sure to lead me into a dark, perhaps tragic place. Though I opted for lighter fare, I ultimately came back to it.
I guess the power of the written word is its ability to change one’s perception of life. Or at least challenge it. As I read through beautiful passages of love and friendship that snaked toward a deceptive menace, I experienced a kaleidoscope of emotions. To find out later the book was based on a true story made it that much more profound.
It’s my pleasure to share Kerensa Jennings’ Story Behind the Story of THE SEAS OF SNOW on the day it has become available in paperback one year after its tremendous debut:
As a journalist who worked in television for many years, I was exposed to some of the best and worst of humanity. I have filmed in refugee camps where former child soldiers were teaching little children how to read and write. Directed the shoot of a life-saving quadruple heart by-pass operation. Made films for Make Poverty History, Comic Relief and Live8. Seen horrific rushes of suicide bombings, raw footage from terrorist attacks (including 9/11), and the unedited aftermaths of devastating earthquakes and floods.
When I was Programme Editor of Breakfast with Frost with Sir David Frost, I was lucky enough to make programmes with a host of the world’s most famous people including world leaders, and stars from stage, screen, sport and music. The programme with Nelson Mandela is one of the highlights of my life—such an inspiring man. Such an extraordinary life.
Nothing I experienced throughout my TV career affected me as profoundly, or impacted me as emotionally, as the Soham Investigation. This was a deeply upsetting case where a school caretaker called Ian Huntley had murdered two little girls. Ten years old and full of dazzling life. That man took everything those little girls had away from them. Destroyed their families. Eviscerated a community. Horrified a nation.
I was leading the BBC News coverage of the case. And it affected me profoundly.
As the months wore on, we learned more about what happened, and the mind and motives of that man. A picture of a psychopath emerged. Repeated behaviours, perverse inclinations, monstrous outcomes. I cried myself to sleep, privately, and often.
In the years that followed I wanted to learn more about what makes us human. What makes us do what we do. The heart, the brain, the soul. The nuances and subtleties and differences between us. Whether evil is born or made.
The BBC had been selected by Cambridgeshire Constabulary to work closely with them during the months of the investigation. They had quite rightly responded to the extraordinary levels of public interest in the case and wanted to be able to tell their story. They felt a huge responsibility to do the right thing by the families and friends of the two little girls whose lives were so brutally stolen from them. The community in Soham discovered they had a killer in their midst, and two people who were prepared to hide in plain sight, telling lies after lies after lies to anyone who would listen. The nation was appalled and devastated that a man employed as a school caretaker could have committed such a monstrous act.
I led the BBC News and Current Affairs coverage of the investigation. What this entailed included becoming very familiar with the evidence the police gathered and gaining an insight into the way they worked.
On one particular day, I was in a dark room by myself, spooling through tapes of police evidence, marking up the sections I thought we might want to use in the BBC coverage. I came across a tape marked ‘Deposition Site’. I just popped it into the machine and began to watch. The footage showed the girls’ remains, which had been discovered in woodland around RAF Lakenheath. The images burned into my retina.
A number of months later, as a member of the media, I had to sit behind the school caretaker, Ian Huntley, day after day after day at the Old Bailey. I felt overcome by revulsion. To this day, I’d say it is the most gruelling and emotionally draining experience of my life.
During the intervening months, I reflected long and hard on all the evidence, including some of the other police tapes I had watched, such as the significant witness interviews of both Ian Huntley and his then live-in girlfriend, classroom assistant Maxine Carr. It was staggering to see with my own eyes the blatant lies that were told, with such conviction and plausibility. Despite all the mountain of evidence that proved they were speaking well-rehearsed lines, not truths.
I developed a fascination for trying to understand what on earth could motivate a person to behave in such an inhuman way. I found myself seeking out articles, books and academic studies about psychopaths. I even ended up training and qualifying as an Executive Coach so I could formally learn the disciplines of psychology. I wanted to explore whether evil is born or made, which is the question at the heart of SEAS OF SNOW.
I learned that psychopaths are incapable of feeling empathy. They can manipulate and lie with ease. They can be charming and believable. They are often with us across society, hiding in plain sight. The difference is, not everyone born a psychopath ends up committing horrific acts.
I ended up writing my story as a process of catharsis. I always find I am able to process my emotions and responses to things most effectively when I write. I also drew on other themes that have absorbed me for years—such as good versus evil; fairy tales; and the way poetry can offer solace and escape from life’s greatest torments.
I also wanted the story to hopefully touch readers, and to create that feeling in them of wanting to hug the children in their lives that little bit tighter. It’s crime fiction, a psychological thriller, and draws also on fairy tale for inspiration with both poetry and literary elements. Somewhat genre-defying. Reviewers have said it’s ‘an astonishing book’; ‘my book of the year, if not the decade’; ‘An important and brave book that forces you to reassess family and society in equal measure’ and ‘A fabulous story, hauntingly magical, with an almost hypnotic quality.’
My training as a literary critic as a student at Oxford shaped me and inspired me. Over the years, I kept coming back to texts I had discovered while I was there. The pieces that lifted me, the verses that helped me make sense of the world and its pain. The lines that gave me solace and comfort through periods of intense difficulty in my own personal life.
All these influences began to percolate together somehow. The life of a psychopath. The workings of the mind. The sometime darkness - and the ephemerality - of humanity. The ability of literature to light up the world, illuminate understanding, and provide succour. All these threads were coming together and I knew I needed to write a story to share with others what I was feeling. And I needed closure, catharsis.
And with that, the idea for SEAS OF SNOW was born.
Written with the duality of two protagonists, an evil man and an innocent little girl, the story is set in a sleepy village in 1950s Tyneside, North East England. The book dances through time, backwards and forwards between the literary reveries and physical abuses of the young girl, Gracie; and the old woman of today, frail and isolated in a nursing home. Billy Harper, Gracie's childhood friend, is the only solid presence in her life, and seemingly the only constant. Diaries and poetry books bind the story and the characters. It is a story of lost innocence, betrayal and broken trust. It is a story of consequences.
Certain objects act as a touchstone between the memories of Gracie’s childhood life and the stark realities of the old woman’s existence. A crucifix, a locket, a perfume bottle, a piece of embroidery, a curl of hair and the cinnamon scent of books weave the times and places of the story together.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke’s dragons and princesses prose poem becomes a talisman for Gracie, tying in with her childhood games with Billy. And as she discovers his poetry, her fascination for the fact he wrote his own epitaph inspires her to write her own. Suddenly life is beginning to take on a new sense of meaning and understanding. But it is her uncle Joe who carries the momentum of the story. He intrudes on her while she takes a bath—a tableau that gradually unfolds through intermittent, evolving scenes as the book progresses. The scent of lemons in the air from the bubble bath reprises the first sensory impact Gracie had on Joe – as he locks the door and refuses to leave.
SEAS OF SNOW is also a love letter to literature. Thematic influences include the paralysis and inability to act of Hamlet. How a person's reluctance to face up to truth and do what is right can wreak such havoc and destruction. Literary influences include Nabokov's Lolita. I have always been mesmerised by the understatement of the writing in this novel—how despite the apparent salaciousness of the first chapters, what emerges as the book unfolds is how the writer leaves so much up to the imagination of the reader. SEAS OF SNOW does something similar. There is a subtlety in some of the most brutal scenes. The reader pieces together the full horror of what is unfolding; there is a deliberate delicacy in the writing.
https://amzn.to/2Ixtccb
https://amzn.to/2q5dTQA
Soham investigation
