R.M. Ridley's Blog, page 36

Guest Author Blog – Beggar’s Can’t Be Choosier

Today RM has given me the opportunity to share with you all my new book, Beggars Can’t be Choosier. Thanks RM.

Beggars is a story set in the Regency Era of England. The Regency was from 1811 to 1820, followed by the full rule of George IV. During the Regency he was regent for his father, George III who was then mad. It is a time of well tailored clothing for the men of wealth of England, and for their ladies to be adorned in jewels and high fashion as well. It is a time when War was waging in Europe, what is considered by many a second world war, the first having been the Seven Years War.

With this background, a war occurring on the continent, we find the story opening with our hero, not quite penniless, but for an English Earl, he is rather broke. He lives on a 100 pounds a year. Not enough money to think of marrying unless he can marry a fortune. His homes are all rented to pay of the debts of his father. And to London comes an heiress who has been snubbed by society, her father’s uncertain origins and his involvement in the India Trade make this young lady not quite of the Ton.

My story was to be a classic Regency Romance. They would connect because they needed each other, and not being in love, would fall in love by the end of the book. It had many commentaries about it on its way to publication. First, I through in the concept of the heiress allowing that they would divorce once she had given the Earl an heir. She would always be the mother of the next Earl, she would have been the Countess for a time, and she would maintain a great deal of her money.

Divorce was not easy to get in England at the time. But you could easily get it in Scotland were you rich enough and connected enough, and an Earl, and our rich Heiress would be so. That matter dealt with, and true to history as well, I tackled another issue that as a man, I am sure RM you know how hard it is, that of the woman’s POV.

For this story to work, I had to portray motherhood. Which included Pregnancy and also, a dramatic event, a miscarriage. Neither of which I had experience with first hand. So I did my writing, and then showed it to near a dozen ladies before I knew it was ready. Some I imagine still will believe I have no clue as to what I wrote. And I agree. But I did the best I could, and then rewrote, and rewrote based on the feedback I got from readers.

Do we arrive at our happy ending? It is a Regency Romance, so we must get there in the end. Do I tie up loose ends, and throw in Victorian and Regency motifs of fulfillment, and advancement? Again, Beggars is the story of Regency Romance, so something along these lines must occur.

It has had close to four years of gestation and molding, with many drafts, so now, it is ready.

Published 2/1/2014 at $3.99 in digital format, $15.99 in Trade Paperback, Beggars Can’t be Choosier is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the iBookstore, Kobo and Smashwords.

Beggars Can’t be Choosier Amazon TP:

Beggars Can’t be Choosier Amazon Digital:

Beggars Can’t be Choosier B&N:

Beggars Can’t be Choosier Smashwords:

Beggars Can’t be Choosier Kobo:

Beggars Can’t be Choosier Direct from DWWilkin

  BIO:

A graduate in history, Mr. Wilkin has been writing in various genres for thirty years. Extensive study of premodern civilizations, including years as a re-enactor of medieval, renaissance and regency times has given Mr. Wilkin an insight into such antiquated cultures.

Trained in fighting forms as well as his background in history lends his fantasy work to encompass mores beyond simple hero quests to add the depth of the world and political forms to his tales.

Throughout his involvement with various periods of long ago days, he has also learned the dances of those times. Not only becoming proficient at them but also teaching thousands how to do them as well.

Mr. Wilkin regularly posts about Regency history at his blog, and as a member of English Historical Fiction Authors. You can read that blog at English Historical Fiction Authors

His very first article was published while in college, and though that magazine is defunct, he still waits patiently for the few dollars the publisher owes him for the piece.

Mr. Wilkin is also the author of several regency romances, and most recently a sequel to the epic Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

Filed under: Writing Tagged: Beggar Can't Be Choosier, D. W. Wilkin, Divorce, Earl, edits, guest blog, Happy Ending, Heiress, Marry, money, novel, plot, publish, readers, Regamcy era, Regency Assembly Press, world building, writer, writing

Stop While You’re Ahead…But

The old adage of ‘Stop while your ahead’ is great and all, but I haven’t gotten ahead — only more behind. I’m amending that saying to ‘Stop – just Stop’. I might tack on ‘and curl up into a ball and weep’ as well.

I once more went out to try and take apart my pump, as it has something fundamentally wrong with it again/ still. Yesterday, I soaked all the parts of pipe and pressure bell that I thought may need to come off in lubricant and left them to soak.

Just now I went out to try and disassemble the pipes leading away from the pump unit itself. The connector gave after three sharp raps and unscrewed nicely. The pipes were coated in ice inside put not clogged by a long shot. I moved on to take off the pipe leading out from the pump itself to try and see just how it worked, if it was clogged, and watch water flow.

I wanted to do this to see if I could solve the issue without having to take off the pressure bell, because the four nuts that hold it in place probably haven’t been moved since I was born – thus I suspect any attempt to undo them will simply strip and/or break them.

So I put my wrench on the pipe and gave it a few good smack with hammer. It seemed to be working. Maybe soaking it over night did more than I expected. I tried to strong arm it but it wouldn’t go. I decided to give it a few more whacks.

That’s when I realize it wasn’t unscrewing but shearing off at the point the male pipe went into the female pump unit.

Now I have to figure out how to get that piece out — I’m seeing a dremel, hand aching precision, and lots of cursing.

Well, I figured I might as well see what the water flow coming out was like – overlook the horrid and see if there is good.

I turned on the pump and – hmmmmm.

Didn’t want to turn

I was worried all the banging and shifting  had caused damage somehow.

No- it’s simply frozen ~sigh~ so now the heater is running and I’m waiting, knowing I”m going to have to take those four bolts out some how (and the piece broken off inside) and look at the pressure bell. I left them to soak some more as they warm up.

The only good news so far? That pressure sensor itself is only $25 bucks to replace. And since the one I have is in rough shape (and may not be working anymore) I’m just going to put a new one on and eliminate that possible problem  — since I have to take the old one off anyway.

If anybody wants me – I’ll be the one whimpering in the cold, dry bathtub.

Filed under: Homesteading Tagged: bath, crazy, frustration, plumbing, pressure sensor, water, waterpump, wrench

Burning Room of Firecrackers

A burning room of firecrackers, it’s a half way decent analogy for what my head feels like.

I’m cycling – hard. Thoughts pounding away in my brain, exploding as soon as formed, bombarding my attention, and shattering my thoughts.

BANG! over there

BANG! over here

BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!

It reverberates off the inside of my skull, blinds my eyes from the inside out, and drowns out all but the loudest noise.

Yesterday – now today – for how long I can’t say.

It will end. This blaze become a smolder again. The fireworks consumed. Until then I struggle on. Find the safest line to walk through the room.

I’ll get through today and see what tomorrow is like when I get there

Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: antisocial, awarness, Bi-polar, Brain, burning, crazy, cycle, fire, frustration, Mental Health, noise, struggle

It’s a Hen’s life

Every so often we have a hen in the house.  It may seem weird, but only to those who don’t raise chickens.

Chickens are not stupid, but they don’t always make the best choices and so we occasionally have them in the house.

They may have gone broody late and so we need to bring them and their clutch of eggs in from the cold. There were a number of years when having chicks running about the house, with a harried mother chasing after them, was a standard Christmas occasion.

It is also possible a hen may have gotten hurt, or sick, and needs a chance to heal without others picking on them.

This year, one of our hens – barely more than a pullet – got caught in the bad storm we had about a month ago. It was pure coincidence that I spotted her, trying to get warm amongst the ducks.

When we brought her in,  her legs were frozen and she had a chunk of ice in her beak, through her nostrils. She was breathing around this ice, in the small holes left at the back of her beak.

We carefully and slowly warmed her up. It was tough, because we wanted to free her mouth up as fast as possible, but knew when it came to freezing and frost bite, if you warm up too fast it is as bad as the freezing damage. So we gently warmed her whit nothing more than our own body temperature.

I thought for sure she wouldn’t make it. Then, after a few days, when she had passed the worse of it, I thought for sure she would lose her toes. Now she clumps along, on swollen feet, following us everywhere. She hates to be left alone. Even if it’s just the cat she’s with, she wants company.

I seem to be her favorite company. This also isn’t new.

Once the chickens becomes relaxed around us it is usually me they decide to accompany the most often. One, a male who was raised in the house, after his mother moved on, used to sit on my head while I watched TV.

Chickens are like cats in many ways. They don’t like change – but once they are used to it… well they don’t like change. They want attention when they want it, and gods forbid if you don’t deliver. Then they ignore you a moment later. They are curious about everything, get bored, and make up games. And when they re doing something they shouldn’t, they will give you a ‘Who me?” look.

So the issue becomes, once they are better, convincing them to move back outside. We have a number of hens in our yard that are still convinced they should be ‘house hens’. Given an opportunity, they will come in and settle down, just as comfortable and smug as can be.

Hen is not going to be easily transferred back out. And OH are we going to hear about all summer long.

Filed under: Homesteading Tagged: cat, chicken, chicks, free range, frost bite, hen, house hen, injured, sick

World of Water – World of Woes

Okay so…

You ready?

Yesterday we got the water back – pipes thawed, rejoicing, stress gone, long hot bath imminent …. somethings wrong.

I know my water system quite intimately as you might expect after all this time. I turned on a tap early afternoon yesterday and just looking at the rate of water and the way it flowed – I knew something was wrong.

So I went out to the pump house.

It seemed the same old thing had happened. The rod which attaches the cycling arm with the leather gaskets and the rest of the pole in the 90 foot well had come unscrewed.

This is nothing new. I can fix this in a relatively short time with only minor damage to my back, shoulders, arms and legs. I got going and was I upset? Actually quite the opposite. I was grateful that this had not occurred earlier. Yesterday you see was a beautiful day. Mild and comfortable. I could work on the pump without freezing my fingers off.

So I fixed that. I actually fixed it without having to take the pump apart as far as I usually do – Patience, luck, and arm strength. So I fixed it. It didn’t take long. I didn’t have to undo as much as usual.

I started the pump running again.

Something was wrong. The water wasn’t going into the system but shooting up along the rod as though it had nowhere to go – as if the pipe to the pressure sensor and the reservoir was blocked.

So now I had to take it all apart again. Worse – I would in fact have to take it apart to the extent I usually do to fix the rod issue.

With a sigh I got to work, confused but determined to get it over with. I found no reason for the peculiar behavior. But as I had not had a gasket on the one place for a while I decided I had better make one and see if that helped get the water where it belonged.

I searched the house top to bottom hoping t find the perfect thing – something durable, rubber, but not too thick. Finally I actually did …sure I had to trim, cut, snip, scrap but it would work beautifully y I knew.

So I  went back out – I reassembled the pump – it seemed to be working ….

But there was this hissing sound.

I was coming from my reservoir – not good.

Still – continue to see if pump works… seems to . Pump moving right, water seems to be going where it should, turn off valve and the pressure sensor shuts off pump in short order.

Really don’t like that hissing sound.

Okay – well lets see if we can fill the reservoir.

Looking good – wait why is the water now shooting out the pump pressure overflow? The reservoir cant be full – whether the pressure gauge is lying or not. it can’t be full yet… and even if it was full the pressure switch should have turned it off.. so WHY IS IT PUMPING WATER ON THE FLOOR!

I still don’t know…

I know I have to somehow stop the air escaping from the reservoir that desperately needs replacing but after that ?

I just want to relax in a hot bath damn it!

Filed under: Homesteading Tagged: bath, confusion, frustration, gasket, pressure, repair, running water, thaw, water, water pump, water reservior

Thank You Faeries!

They came!

This morning, while I still slept, my wife was starting to make coffee from snow-melted water and all the taps thawed at once.

The Faeries came after all.

This is such a stress off my back – and soon, with the aid of the now flowing hot water, it will be a great deal of sore off my back too.

Today will still be a bit off routine, but I have hope that tomorrow I can return to my regularly scheduled work day. I have duties to fulfill, and refuse to fall behind.

Thank you Faeries, thank you so much!

Filed under: Homesteading Tagged: bath, coffee, Faeries, thaw, water, work

Fellow Author Just Signed a Novel Contract!

My First Novel Contract!.

via My First Novel Contract!.

Filed under: Writing

But – But . . . I DO Believe in Faeries!

Believing in faeries that will come unfreeze my water line, apparently doesn’t mean that they believe in my frozen water line.

I have been getting the miniscule amount of water coming through the line – a drip every couple hours – which can be enough to get things flowing… but not this time.

I went and dug out the excess hatch to the crawl space under the house – first a path through two foot drifts to get ther then removing the three foot drift around it, so I had room to wriggle in and, hopefully, out again.

I will, a few more ounces of coffee from now, combat crawl under the house and across it’s width to reach what is most likely the problem area, flash light on my head, propane torch in my hand, hope in my heart.

I will crawl out with same…plus sore muscles from my neck to my toes.

But maybe, just maybe, it will work and tonight I can soak those sore muscles in a long, hot bath.

I believe in long hot baths too!

Filed under: Homesteading Tagged: combat crawl, crawl space, Faeries, flashlight, frozen, frustration, heat, hot bath, propane torch, snow, snow drifts, sore muscles, water, winter

Do I Mind My MInd?

I am sure the issues of the last couple days have not helped. I know even the nagging issue of no water drags at me but whether those things had happened or not, I would still be in cycle. I would still have fragmented focus, shattered self-control, augmented anger, and I would be what I am destined to always be.

I think the issues of the last couple days have exasperated the state of my mental health. I lost more ground due to the emotional roller-coaster than I might otherwise have. Being bi-polar means stress is a trigger for a whirlwind reaction. Being anti-social disorder means emotional reactions (especially ones triggered by the bi-polar) create feedback and defensive responses.

Do I Mind my Mind? YES-NO…. how should I know? It is the only mind I’ve ever had. I believe part of my creativity, my ability to create worlds of words, comes from these very same issues, but so does some more unpleasant outcomes.

How do I weigh the pluses against the negatives when I have nothing else to compare it to? How do I say better or worse when my ability to discern such things is completely compromised?

I do wish some aspects of my life were easier. I do wish I didn’t have the ‘extra’ stresses. But then who doesn’t? It is life, and though mine can be harsher on me (and others) than another persons might be… it does comes with bonuses. I’m sure it does.

Or maybe I just tell myself that. Maybe it is a fabrication to get me through. I know I’m good at fabrication… it is after all my ‘job’. Maybe when I tell myself I can fabricate so well in part because of my issues – it is in fact a fabrication to get me through my issues.

I think I’m hurting my already broke brain.

Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: antisocial, Bi-polar, blog for mental health, Brain, crazy, cycle, frustration, wierd thoughts, world building, writing

Of Trucks, Traps, & Terror

I heat my house with a wood burning furnace. A center chamber hold the wood which, as it burns, heats a boiler of water surrounding the chamber. The hot water is pumped to the house and through the pipes laid in the cement floor. It is a rather effective method — assuming you have wood.

I didn’t have enough wood to make it through this cold snap. I would have run out of wood today but it was going to be too cold to go cut up wood for the furnace.

Luckily I am spoiled. My sister texted me and told me to just buy wood and she’d cover the cost. So yesterday, I searched Kijiji for someone close by who had wood for sale. I found someone quite close who had wood for the standard price. I called… and it was busy, and busy, and busy and …..’oh I’m sorry he just stepped out the door. Call back at six’

I got a hold of him and he said ‘No problem We can load up you truck this evening – meet you at 7:30′

So I drove out, through the blustering snow, and the sub-arctic winds. I found the place without any real effort. We loaded the truck nice and full of split, dried, hard wood.

Great. Now all I would have to do through the next few really cold days was run out occasionally, toss in a few pieces of wood, and run back in. I didn’t have to worry about how much wood I was using because – for these few days at least – I would have enough to get through.  After that, I’d figure out what to do – but the crisis period was covered….

If only I knew the truth.

Where I got the wood was on a side street off a main road. I had noticed it was not the best road so leaving, I took the turn wide and very slow.

Next thing I knew, the truck was canted dramatically to the drivers side. I was off the road – next to a very wide, deep ditch half full of snow. I still cannot fathom how this occurred.

How close to the ditch edge was I? I had no idea because of the amount of snow.

I tried slowly, backing up a couple inches then forward – trying to slowly work my way out. I managed to straighten the truck, get it facing more in line with the road but I noticed that doing so was also causing me to inch closer to the ditch.

I called my father-in-law. He said he was on his way. Just then our old mechanic drove up with his big old truck with two tires on each rear axle. An old work horse of a thing. I called back my father-in-law. ‘Have help don’t worry.’

So we hitched the chain to the rear of each truck and I put my Vera in reverse and he put his truck in drive and –

NOTHING.

Didn’t even wiggle.

So he said, ‘I know a guy just down the road who has a wrecker, I’ll go see if he’s willing to come drag you out.’ Sounded like a plan to me. Because lets not forget – the entire reason I was out there was to get the wood so that I could heat the house for the next few awful days.

A few other people had stopped during this time. All offering rides home, or that they were coming back this way shortly and they’d check back to make sure I was still good.

This is country life — say what you will about city conveniences — nothing is more convenient than everyone being your best neighbor when you need it, whether you know them or not.

So five, maybe ten, minutes later my old mechanic pulls back up. ‘Wreckers a no go – It’s wrecked and having to have another wrecker haul it home. Give you a ride home?’

I look at my beautiful truck –my Vera — half buried in snow, the load of wood in the back. I want to say, ‘No,you go on home. I’m going to stay by her.’ But I know that’s not an option.

I get home two hours after I left, having not travel very far at all, and not only do I not have wood… now I don’t have a truck.

This morning I my wife wakes me. ‘Police called to tell us our trucks on the side of the road’. It’s good of them, I guess.  She goes on, ‘That’s the good news.’

‘That’s the ONLY news’ I tell her. She leaves me to wake and get dressed.

When I come down to the kitchen to get my coffee I see the pot of melted snow water on the other burner. Well that’s the other news. One thing at a time.

I drink my coffee and arrange to have my father-in-law come get me – we are going to try and get Vera out using his brand new four-wheel drive 350.

We hook up the chain and give her a pull. She moves back a good foot but then rolls back. Too deep.

I forgot the shovel. Back we go – grab the shovel – and turn around.

I dig out the truck, a path for the tires behind, clear out the drivers side and as much of the underneath as I can reach. It’s almost three feet deep and I seriously suspect I am standing on snow that has nothing under it but more snow and under that – the ditch!

Get in, try again. This time we get her moved a good 6 feet. Time to dig some more. And again – 6 feet. The problem is the road is a curve. No room to pull straight out. I’m reaching for the door handle to hop out and dig some more – but my father-in-law has other plans. He just keeps pulling.

—- and my truck is going along.

I try desperately to steer, but there is too much snow piling up. I’m helpless but moving.

Moving along the side of the road – not getting any closer to the road, just digging deep furrows in the snow along the ditch edge. I’m starting to feel a little panicked by this, but it does seem to be progress.

THEN THE NOSE OF THE TRUCK DIPS!

I feel the front-end going down into the ditch, even as she’s moving back. Terror reaches out and, for the first time in my life, I feels it’s cruel caress. The moment seems to go on forever, the truck sliding into the ditch as it is pulled along the side of the road.

I don’t know if I should try jumping out, and possibly be smashed by the truck , or stay in and risk being trapped in a snow filled ditch deeper than the length of my full-sized truck!

Then the front rises up again. My heart thuds in my throat and I try to swallow it. I pant like a mutt in august heat.

Then my Vera suddenly pops out of the snow and onto the blacktop.

So I’m home, so is Vera (who started with a little extra juice from my father-in-laws truck) and her load of wood.

Now I just have to try and get water running again.

So when people say… ‘What’s wrong with winter? I like winter. I hope it snows this year!’ You understand why I have to bury them out behind the barn.

 

Filed under: Homesteading, MIscellaneous Tagged: country, digging, ditch, four wheel drive, frozen, furnce, heat, Kijiji, mechanic, neighbours, pick-up truck, police, radiant heat, sister, snow bank, terror, Vera, water, winter, wood, wrecker