Cheryl R. Cowtan's Blog, page 2
March 28, 2019
Getting Ready to Sail – Planning a trip up the North Channel to the Baie Fine Fjord
[image error]One of his awesome presents on his 80th birthday. Safety rule #1: Dad has to wear this as soon as the sun goes down, every night. We are going to drill the children a few times before we leave for the Fjord.
Of course, we messed up and are going the second year after Dad sold his 30+ foot catamaran that would have withstood the worst millennial storms of Lake Huron (we tested it), and would have comfortably slept the whole fam-damly.
Dad, Jerry Cowtan, and his partner at the time, Cheryl Courville, ran the Port Elgin Sunset Sail tours for many years. The “His N Hers” catamaran was a fine sailing craft for his business. But as his 80th approach, Dad thought he might “slow down” a bit and finally take on those adventures that had been put aside for his “retirement” activities (taking out up to 4 charters a day).
This year, we’ll be sailing in his much smaller sailboat, about which Dad said,
“This must have been in someone’s barn for the past 30 years. Look at how good the wood still is”.
The new boat is a 1972 22′ Canadian Sailcraft {CS} with a swing keel that didn’t quite swing last year. Despite my misgivings after having been spoiled by the Cat, I have to admit, last spring’s sailboat prep was a great family project as we worked together to figure out how to unstick, unravel, and untwine the lines, the keel, and any of the other parts seized by time (luckily none of these parts were on my dad, just his boat).
I think we broke more than we fixed, but Dad gamely purchased what he needed and got the boat sailworthy. When we launched from the Port Elgin harbour, it was a whole new experience for my teenage sons. They were used to sailing the Catamaran, which was a beautiful boat but didn’t give you that sliver-jabbing, wave-fighting feel of a rudder handle. Nor did it heel up on its side like this one will do. My sons don’t know the fun they are in for on our upcoming trip.
So, what is the Baie Fine Fjord? It is one of Canada’s secluded and stunning waterways that leads into an incredible land-mass of Canadian Rocky-Shield wilderness. Think “Group of Seven” multiplied by World Heritage site and add a secret, hidden aqua-coloured Topaz Lake, surrounded by high, rocky cliffs perfect for jumping off.
I think Great Lakes Sailing says it best:
Baie Fine is one of the largest freshwater fjords in the world. This tear in the earth’s surface is about 9 nm long and offers breathtaking scenery as you cruise deeper into it.
Baie Fine is bounded by high quartz mountains that gleam in the sunshine. There are numerous anchorages scattered along its length. There are anchorages which are quite popular and which can be busy. But, there are others that offer delightful solitude.
Now you’re getting it. Let’s hope I am. Am I really up for a long sailing trip with some of my favourite people on a floating craft? You betcha! It will be the trip of a lifetime. My biggest concern is 1) where am I going to sleep and 2) definitely not with the spiders I saw on Dad’s boat, last year. [image error]
But those concerns are for part II of my Fjord blog. Stay tuned for a review of camping hammocks that will wrap up a Canadian nicely for a bear snack.
PS: IF you’re one of the 1000’s of people my dad sailed out to meet the sun in Port Elgin, feel free to say “hi” in the comments. I’ll make sure he gets your message.
And to all the Canadian sailors out there, the ice will break; the water will wait.
December 13, 2018
My Cheap Thrill: My Book is on a Fan's #MyYearinBooks Graphic!
It's a silly, little thing, I know, but sometimes it's the little things that help us glow.
Gotta love it when your book ranks on a #Goodreads #MyYearInBooks! Even if it is the least popular 😁 book on the reader's graphic.
Thanks for reading "Undo" Elizabeth and for the #5star #bookreview.
"It was all good. It was all disturbing, and sadly, accurate."
See the book
https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978088980/...
See the review
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
And, if you haven't cranked out your Goodread's 2018 My Year in Books infographic, do so! It's so fun :)
October 28, 2018
Casa Loma 2018 “Legends of Horror” on one last nerve…
Last night we went to Casa Loma for the Legends of Horror theatrical experience. It’s a 2km walk through the castle grounds and buildings during which actors try to frighten us. The frightful experience has its basis in film and television and classic literature so we were sure to see some creatures from the past horror films, but I didn’t realize the experience would be reaching back all the way to the 1940s.
[image error]My husband, Chris and I took our two boys and their two friends and off we went to stand for 30 mins in line as the sleety rain dripped down. Our first scare was a racoon that came upon us at eye-level, racing along the gothic fence line that bordered the property we were lined up beside. The poor creature hoped to outrun the screams and masses who had converged upon its habitat only a few hours before midnight.
The line-up was soon forgotten once we crested the open mouth of a gigantic fog breathing skeleton and entered the grounds. The action was constant, a combination of mechanics, themed settings, outside stone stairs and winding corridors of live actors stalking the fearful.
[image error]After about 20 minutes of constant frights, my already overactive nerves were frayed. The jump-scares were plentiful, but it was the actors that really made it fabulous. For example, one man was hanging in this bizarre murder scene room that we could not enter. The girls ahead of us stared at him for the longest time and determined that he was not real. But overhearing them didn’t bring the pieces together for me. I stepped up expecting everything to be fake. When I went up, I too stared at the man who was dressed as a cross between the Highwayman and Phantom of the Opera. As I was staring and thinking there was something off about this character’s mouth, he jumped at me. I presented him to a deep, personal view of my rapidly vibrating uvula as I screamed into his face and fell back to stumble into the next hall.
[image error]The maze of mirrors faced us next, the fog rolling along with our steps as we clutched and stepped around each sharp-edged wall of reflective material. After a few turns, it seemed I had a breather from the beasts, and began to pay attention to our reflections as we moved. Then, I thought I saw someone in the cloud of the mirror, but my husband Chris was marching on and I was latched onto him so I kept going, unsure if I had seen anything, after all. We turned a few more corners and this time I was sure I saw a man with white goggles…a kind of Steampunk looking character, but again the lighting wasn’t clear, and the fog rolled on. The exit was ahead and Chris was determined, but I experienced that tingle at the back of my neck, and as we crested the doorway, leaving the walls of mirrors behind, I turned to look over my shoulder, my teeth clenched into a grimace that had become my expression.
He was there, standing and looking through those white-rimmed circular goggles just as he had been before. I soothed myself with logical thoughts, “They’ve got some sort of cardboard in behind the mirror so we keep seeing the same thing,” for how could he have been here, and there, and further back. But as I thought that, his arm lifted and he swiftly hammered the mirror with his hand. I dissolved into screams as Chris walked us out the door.
But, the worst was yet to come. At 20 minutes in, I was a babbling idiot, asking “why?” When clearly the entire event had been my idea. I can’t tell you how many times I said “Jesus”, but it was enough to know he wasn’t coming to help me. [image error]
Worse still, the actors would see my state and make a beeline for me because they knew they could push me even further towards whatever crevasse or canyon awaited the last shreds of my sanity. On and on they drove us, the creatures chasing… pushing the air behind, dipping their heads into my space, appearing in front when I was furtively glancing to the sides.
And then the worst happened ….I found myself face-to-face with Lon Chaney Jr.’s “Wolfman”. His ghastly masked face gruesome above a white business shirt ….the dichotomy of civilization versus the wild, a chilling reminder of the black and white film that scared me so badly in my childhood.
You can’t hear the end of my video I was taking when I saw the wolfman… I said something inane like “Oh no.. No! The wolfman”, which may have been a direct quote from the film. I’m not sure, but in my mind, terror took over, and I grabbed my husband, Chris and danced around him trying to keep him as the shield between me and the Wolfman…
One Night at a Women’s Shelter – What’s it really like? Poems for Women: The Poetry and Story of HER
Did I ever tell you I worked for two years as a crisis counsellor in a women’s shelter? The job burned me right out of Social Work, and the experience changed me forever.
Women’s shelters operate within our communities like valiant forts protecting and housing, those who have been treated like enemies in their own homes.
Some of the shelters, like the one I worked in, are outfitted with an incredible array of protective and defensive architectural features, like motion sensors, cameras, timed locking doors, safe spots, direct alarms to the police station and more! There’s a reason for such defenses. Many abusers come looking for their partners.
In Undo, my poetry and short story collection, I share an experience I can only call “The Knight Shift”, and yes, it plays out like a movie. And yes, it’s pretty close to what I could experience on any night working there.
Reviewers, contact me for a free copy at AuthorCherylCowtan(at sign)bell.net Or pick it up at Amazon.
The Knight Shift
I’m sitting here in the shadows,
To hamper the hostile fight.
The paranoia of being a target,
Led me to douse the light.
Thoughts latent, now on the front.
Too tiresome to contemplate.
The women, the children, sleep
Like sheep, while I watch and wait.
We’ve gadgets to keep us safe;
To signal that danger lurks.
Door alarms, motion sensors,
Lots of fun, Bond-style works.
Buuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Damn!
The sudden interruption of silence leaves my skin in the chair as I leap up and look through the video display. My black and white eye spots a man in the foyer, holding a number of plastic bags.
“Can I help you?” My heart begins to pound.
He looks around for the source of the voice. “Uhhhh… yeah… just dropping off some used clothing.”
Nice timing buddy; it’s after midnight. “Thank you, that is much appreciated.”
He hesitates, focuses on what he assumes is the camera. “Do you want me to move them inside?”
Sure, slide your bomb inside, I’ll just open up this four-inch thick, steel door, release the magnetic locks and disable the alarm. Then you can kill me, and the twenty-two mothers and children who I’m responsible for.
I snicker quietly at my overdramatic mind.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll get them later.” I say.
“Uh… okay.” He’s confused; let down. Guess he was hoping to get a peek.
I click off the intercom, so he can’t hear me say, “Get lost will ya!?”
He exits the front and stands,
A pausing in planning, caught.
The instinct of a novice,
Has me high, full of thought.
All abusers are profiled well.
In tracking the active files,
I speed read through the details.
He’s a match; my blood riles.
So, looking for your wife, eh bud?
Why don’t you have a go at this door? Hmmm?
Use your head, see how it feels.
I chuckle silently, and read further
He’s a hunter.
He has a licensed gun.
Damn. SHIT!
What’s the protocol?
A drop of sweat tracks my side.
I glance at the window glass.
It resists speeding missiles,
Its sheen is an impasse.
My shaking hand reaches up,
To prompt, gather, infer.
I’m taking down the binders.
What are the procedures?
I phone the administrator and say, “Abuser on property”!
She’s coming.
I phone the police and say, “Abuser on property”!
They’re coming.
I take out my personal alarm and drape it around my neck, careful not to accidentally trip it.
Now, I’m wired directly to the police station.
My insides are shaking. I check the cameras. Pan for his abuser ass.
Where did you go?
Ringggggggggggggggggggggg
SHIT.
Not now!
I take two deep breathes and try to calm myself.
“Crisis line, Cheryl speaking,” I answer the phone as my eyes track the video display screen.
“Help me, I need your help!” My ears track the desperate voice.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I calmly respond.
“He’s going to hurt me. Please help!” Her voice is climbing a crescendo of fear.
My mind drags away from the bags in the foyer. “Tell me where you are, I’ll send the police.”
“No. No police. HELP ME!”
“I can’t help you if …”
Her window-shattering, nerve-battering scream drowns me out, but the click of the broken connection is louder.
SHIT!
DAMN IT!
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
Please be there.
Who are you?
Where are you?
My finger touches the phone buttons.
Con Fuh Den Tchi Al Luh Tee!
I could track her location…
Prevent Brew Tal Luh Tee.
I hang up, open the line.
If I break trust in this way,
The contact will stop coming.
Don’t display. Don’t betray.
Szzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing
SHIT!
I spin and look at the camera trained on the motion sensor. Oh, it’s the administrator. Good! She’ll go through the bags. She enters the foyer, armed with gloves and a mask. I speak to her through the intercom.
My stomach is clutched tight.
I’m slouching, eyesight blurs.
Some survivors are waking.
I inform. Red alert!
I explain lock-down quickly,
While keeping up surveillance.
My manager speaks softly,
Requesting admittance.
Rinnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggg
OH God! Is it her calling back?
“Crisis Line,” I try not to sound anxious.
“Hello? Is this the women’s shelter?” A meek voice asks.
“Yes.” Is it the same voice? My need to know interferes with my training. “Did you call earlier tonight?”
“No… uh… maybe I shouldn’t have called.” I’m losing her.
“I’m glad you called. I hope you can talk to me.” Inviting, I mentally pour tea.
“Oh yeah?” She’s engaging.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m here for—to talk to.” I sound friendly, kind.
I scan the video screens for the abuser, then release the lock and watch my manager move into the shelter. One-thousand and one, one-thousand and two; the door shuts long before the alarm will go off.
“Do I have to tell you who I am?” she asks.
I refocus, “No, not if you don’t want to.” I take out a sheet and begin recording details as we talk.
Sssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzs
I look up. The police car is moving in past the motion sensor. I see their grim faces as they look at the shelter. They drive around the property, shining their spotlight at the bushes, then park their car out front. They won’t get out. They’ll call the station, and the station will call us.
“… and then he just got so mad. He threw his coat in my face and then …” she’s sobbing.
“That must have been real hard for you,” I empathize.
“Yes.” She blows her nose. “I love him so much.” I feel for her.
“I can hear how much you love him. That’s why it hurts so badly to be treated like that. People we love aren’t supposed to do those things,” I say.
“I have to go,” she whispers. “I’ll call you later.” She hangs up.
It’s chess, night after night.
I’m playing a tactical game,
In which I move the Queen,
Into new awareness.
Or into a safety net.
The police drive away—gone.
I wonder if the abuser is still out there.
Wonder if he is waiting to punish me
For taking his woman, keeping her safe.
I’ll have to walk to my car alone,
When this knight shift is done.
Want to read more? Get the book here:
October 27, 2018
How Love Letters from the 1600s help me write my Vampire, Count Gräfen
[image error]Above is a love letter from Philip Williams to Elizabeth Nalson circa 1680. It’s a fine example of Renaissance correspondence and a perfect research document for my writing of The Fergus She #2.
[image error]
In Master of Madhouse, Count Gräfen is away from Rachel, whom he torments and desires to possess. Rachel, eludes him as best she can, but while prisoner in his madhouse, escaping the Count for long will not be a possibility.
I love taking the Count and making him the “lover”, and then switching him to the “villain”, just keep Rachel on her toes.
His letter, will be from the “lover”. And their reunion? The “Villain”!
Master of Madhouse
Novel Excerpt
When next I woke, the light coming in my window was not as bright. I slowly became aware of the envelope clutched in my sweaty palm. Frustrated at my snail’s pace, I scratched at the wax with my fingernail, trying to break the seal. It was thick, and like Gräfen, not so easy to peel away. I used my teeth to free the Count’s message.
Chewing on the wax bits, I slipped the letter from its case. Bold, black handwriting swirled across the paper with long daring strokes and dramatic dots and crosses. His writing was beautiful and precise, just like the man himself.
To my most coveted, Rachel.
Please assure yourself, this absence from you has only strengthened my desires, and if my travels were not unavoidable in their necessity, I would not willingly deny myself your presence.
It is with great pride I soon hope to share you with my dearest and oldest friends. Please make yourself presentable. We will greet them together, in three days’ time.
I am now, as at all times, your most devoted, Gr ä fen.
I slowly folded the letter in shaking hands.
Share me?
As in a snack?
In three days?
A sheen of sweat dampened my forehead. What was I doing lying here, slipping in and out of dreamland? When had I become so complacent? I only had three days to get out of Dodge.
Want to see more research for my Vampire Gothic series? Or do you want to just skip to reading this “enthralling”, “gut-wrenching” gothic? Go to http://www.cherylcowtan.com/thefergusshe
October 22, 2018
Why YA Gothic Fiction is Booming and Why that Makes me a Happy Writer!
Why YA Gothic Fiction is Booming – and Girl Monsters are on the Rise
According to Professor Michelle Smith, “the Gothic, and its newer sub-genres like paranormal romance, have a unique resonance with teenagers. They are poised in a transitional space between childhood and adulthood, neither quite embodying the stage they are leaving behind nor fully the thing that they are in the process of becoming. It is unsurprising, then, that they have eagerly embraced the Gothic’s themes of the liminal and the monstrous, as well as its fixation on romance and sex.”
If you grew up in my time (70s and 80s), you’ll remember how the gothic “Flowers in the Attic” burst upon the reading scene among young girls. I had been devouring the 60s gothic romance novels prior to this, reading authors like Victoria Holt and Dorothy Eden, enthralled by images of young women rushing from dark castles under dangerous looking skies. Then someone handed me “Flowers in the Attic” which broke a whole rang of social taboos. The series wasn’t my favourite as it was pretty freaky, but one that did stand out as a ‘keeper’ was “We have always Lived in the Attic” by Shirley Jackson.
“In earlier manifestations of the “female Gothic”, first published in the 18th century by women writers, female protagonists were often courageous, but simultaneously passive and victimised.”
Like Michelle Smith says, in her block post “why YA gothic fiction is booming – and girl monsters are on the rise“, I was intrigued by “Another significant element of the current YA Gothic revival is the emergence of the girl monster.”
Social norms have expanded, gender roles are more tolerant and accepting, and as an adult, the pressure to conform is not as daunting.
However, I have not forgotten what it is like for the girl who doesn’t fit in during adolescence. As a mature woman, I have my chance now to talk back and I’m doing that through writing Gothics, with a twist of supernatural that “disrupt the plotline of male monster and female victim”. (Professor Michelle Smith, Monash University)
In my vampire book series “The Fergus She”, my main character is eighteen-year-old Rachel, who is a danger to herself and others. She’s living in Guelph, ON in the 1980s, her mother is institutionalized in the local asylum, and Rachel drinks to supress her alternate personality, Scarlett.
I love writing this atmospheric gothic fiction, and especially enjoy powering up my protagonist with some special skills to help her escape her victimization.
The Gothic genre (which some dub Dark Fantasy and Supernatural Psychological Thriller) is still a joy for me to read and to write. I just can’t get enough of taking an irregular girl and putting her in adventurous situations she has to survive. Maybe, I owe my writing award and prolific imagination to Victoria Holt, Charlotte Bronte and Shirley Jackson, or perhaps to my early years when I stepped outside of the social sphere. Whichever, I’m overjoyed that Gothic is making a comeback and happy to keep writing my girl monster, Rachel, into the thick of it.
Looking for a seductive, suspenseful #halloweenread? Try “The Fergus She” Gothic vampire book series.
Why YA gothic fiction is booming – and girl monsters are on the rise! Supernatural powers + Love interest – what’s the draw? From #VampireDiaries to #Twilight explained. Read the full Essay Here.
— Tweeted by Cheryl R Cowtan (@NspiredMe2Write) Retweet this post
October 20, 2018
Outback Survival “Cargo” really about making humane choices. Would you?
[image error]Did you ever click a film on Netflix without really knowing what you were about to watch? Well that’s what happened with Cargo. We skimmed over the details, but basically selected it because Dr. Watson was in it and it was set in Australia – so, bam! (as my son would say), let’s watch it.
The film starts out with a husband and wife traveling down a river in a houseboat. They have a young child, who is adorable, and though all seems normal, the expressions of stress and alertness on Martin Freeman’s face as he maneuvers the calm waters is the first clue we need to pay attention.
The second clue is the birthday party on the shore. Waving balloons and laughing children are offset by a father standing guard, who lifts his shirt at Freeman as the boat passes showing a handgun tucked into his jeans.
“What is going on?” I ask my husband. And we soon find out as the action picks up, the stakes get higher, and soon Freeman is on a journey to find someone to take his daughter before his time runs out.
This movie isn’t so much about Zombie’s or an apocalyptic setting, though there is enough of that to keep you entertained if you enjoy the genre. The film is about people, and the choices they make under duress. It’s about finding a spark of humanity among desperation.
I enjoyed the unlikely heroes, the relationships, the situations, the cinematography of the setting, and the social questions in Cargo. I definitely recommend it.
October 17, 2018
A Return to Epic Fantasy – A Rift in the Deep
[image error]I love Epic Fantasy! My first book, The Precious Quest, is an epic. But where is it, you ask? Still waiting for me to complete it. I put it aside once written and started The Fergus She series, but after reading Janelle Garrett’s Rift in the Deep, I think it’s time to go back to the journey…
A Coven of witches are tasked with gathering together four prophesied Stewards–People born with complimentary gifts that could potentially heal the Rift (an opening through which evil leeches) in the Deep (the power of all life) in their world.
Garrett creates four distinct characters, each who leave behind a life and begin a journey with their assigned Covenwitch. Along the way, the characters encounter external and internal challenges that hamper their progress and make it difficult for the witches to gather the four together at the Coven lodge to begin their training–A mad-king Warlock who has his own agenda to stop them, the witch-vow to not harm other, the addictive draw of the Deep, and the release of beasts from the Rift.
Garret succeeded in making me care about the characters, drew me into her world, engaged my interest in the creatures, and spooked me a bit with descriptions of the beasts. The King is definitely a chilling villain and Covenwitches worthy of cheering on.
If you enjoy Epic Fantasy, Rift in the Deep is worth the read.
October 14, 2018
Beauty and the Beast: The magic returns
[image error]If you haven’t seen the latest “Beauty and the Beast”, let me point you to it. I saw the play performed at Toronto’s Ed Mirvish Theatre, and I was astounded. It was the first live performance I’d seen, and my young girl’s mind was infused with the magic of the story and the quality of the performance… with Belle’s voice, and Gaston’s dangerous and tempting charisma.
After that exposure to live theatre (Thank you, Kris Rabe), I attended “Phantom of the Opera”, “Saigon Suzy” or somesuch, and the “Lion King”, but none of those performances ever tempted that wishful, magic-seeking child from my inner core.
In a desire to be so touched again, I went to see “Beauty and the Beast” on ice, and returned home with a fake rose–an appropriate symbol of my disappointment. And later, I watched “Beauty and the Beast” on screen, but still, I could not seem to regain the same magical feelings of delight.
Was it because I was too old? Too damaged from a life that didn’t quite make the fairy tale grade? Or was it because I had worked in a women’s shelter and had been exposed to the theories behind “taming the beast” and the social impact of stories that encourage young girls to stay with “monsters” in an effort to find and save the man beneath? Or maybe it was because I could never experience life theatre for the first time again. That first time feeling, can it ever be recaptured?
And so, I gave up on the search for magic when it came to this story. And years ticked by.
Tick, tick, tock – Lumiere!!
In boredom one night, I flicked through Netflix and voila! The magic returned when I decided to give this Disney version of the old tale one last chance!
The actors are bang-on, the music, the effects… almost as good as that first experience. My inner-child was curling her toes in bliss as the hilarious and talented cast joined giddy and dizzying special effects to make this “Beauty and the Beast” the astounding experience I had remembered from my past.
Give it a try! You’re sure to be thrilled.
October 13, 2018
L I S T E N To a reading of “Girl Desecrated” by Supernatural Psych-Thriller author Cheryl R Cowtan
L I S T E N
To an author reading of “Girl Desecrated”
By the time Rachel unravels her terrifying heritage and uncovers the truth of her other, fate has already dealt her out. But Rachel doesn’t take orders, not even from destiny.
I was recently interviewed on Erin Radio. I did two novel readings in front of this very large, obnoxious mic, which the radio show host kept saying, “get closer to”. LOL Slightly anxious. However, thanks to years of business consulting and teaching, I sounded okay.
[image error]
If you want to hear me read my award-winning novel, Girl Desecrated, start listening!
It’s 1984, and 18 year old Rachel is tormented by her alternate personality, a sexy seductress who calls herself Scarlett. Rachel can’t always stay in control and when she gives in to her other’s sinful desires, Scarlett grows stronger.
As Rachel slips further into madness, Angus the highlander arrives and begins his own seduction, one that sweeps Rachel off her feet. Just when she thinks she’s finally found someone to lover her, the truth begins to unravel, and Rachel realizes Angus is on a mission of destiny, one that could change her life forever, if she lets him fulfill it.
Free author book readings can be fun–even exciting! Share your feedback below. If there is a demand, I’ll record more chapters. 
