Dale R. Long's Blog, page 3

Season of Change

The things I used to like, I don’t like any more,

I want a lot of other things I’ve never had before,

It’s just like my mamma says, I sit around and mourn

Pretending that I am so wonderful and knowing I’m adored

I’m as restless as a willow in a windstorm,

I’m as jumpy as a puppet on a string,

I’d say that I had spring fever,

But I know it isn’t spring.

Nina Simone, It Might as Well Be Spring, 1945

Spring has always been touted as the season of change. It is, after all, the transition from winter to summer, a rebirth, so to speak. I am predisposed to thinking that way as my birthday falls therein. As such, it is my favourite season. Now that’s not say I don’t like the other seasons, I do. They all have their own merits. There is no bad season, in my books. Let’s face it, I like the change from one to the other.

Spring is about change and I don’t think it is wrong to embrace it that way, to use it as a period of reinvention. Why not? A new year is upon us, a slate scrubbed clean by a harsh winter. All the dirt and dust washed away. We are creatures of change whether we accept it or not.

In fact, it can be argued that by not changing, we become dinosaurs and look what happened to them. Then again, changing just for the sake of change is not always wise. Like everything in life, food, alcohol, exercise etc, everything in moderation. It is a fine line we tread.

So, spring is here and it is a time of change for me. I have emerged from the darkness of winter bearing a few scars and a large hole in my life. Those will heal… with time, the best I can do is keep my eyes ahead, but not too far, and not down or back. There are good things on the horizon for my writing and at home.

Changes.

I am reminded of this on my drive into work today. Q107 was on the radio, as always. But today there was change. John Derringer announced that they would be changing the flavour of the show. If you don’t know Q107, for years they have been a “classic rock” station playing hits from the 60′s to the early 90′s.

To be truthful, while I love classic rock, my wife and I mostly listen because of the hosts. Their chemistry, the Last Word, and their just plain realness. Yes, I know that’s not a word. I’m a writer, I’m allowed to bend the rules on occasion. Realness, they aren’t cartoonish, or shock jocks, they are real people and that carries over the air.

Actually, there was a lot of music Q107 played that I didn’t like. Too much Zepplin. Sorry, I do like Led Zepplin, but like all other groups, not all of their stuff was gold. Nirvana. Never liked ‘em, don’t consider them “classic rock”. They are grunge at it’s finest. I’m just not much of a grunge fan.

But, music is different to everyone. We all have different tastes because we all come from different melting pots. I try to like all music. I give it all a chance. That said, my tastes tend to lean more towards the folk end of the spectrum. I grew up with Jimmy Buffett, John Prine, The Band, The Guess Who, Eagles, CCR etc.

Well, this announcement set fire to the Twitter verse and Facebook. Loud dinosaurs jumping off the bandwagon left right and center. Apparently change is scary to some dinosaurs… errr… fine people. But had they chosen to listen, they would have heard that the music Q107 was expanding to was along the lines of The Sheepdogs and The Black Keys. Both bands could easily be mistaken for group straight out of the 70′s.

No, Nirvana and Stone Temple Pilots aren’t what I would consider “classic rock” and I hope bands like that are kept to  a minimum exposure, but Q107 isn’t my station. I didn’t create it for me and not everyone likes exactly what I like. Sure there will be music I don’t care for, but the essence of the station has remained the same. They just expanded it.

I grew up listening to music all the time. There wasn’t a moment when the radio wasn’t on. My parents saw meaning in songs. They felt the impact and tried to share that with us kids. My daughters inherited that “ear” and are constantly singing even when they think we can’t hear. Their tastes are a blend of alternative (thanks to their mom), and folk, no mainstream for them. They are old souls like their dad. It is safe to say that music infuses all aspects of my life from inspiring my writing to setting a mood and even to traveling back in time, I appreciate when it is handled with respect.

To John, Ryan, Maureen and Johnny Garboo, Joanne and Kim et al, keep up the good work and the respect with which you go about things. We will keep listening, spring, summer, winter and fall.

And to all of you, may your changes (large or small) bring you not happiness but contentment and excitement.

What is your “go to song” that lifts you up, that drags you onto the dance floor or makes you need to crank the stereo up?

The Great Gatsby

As you may, or may not, know, I am a Gatsby fan. Or rather, I am a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but never, ever should I use him as a comparison in a pitch letter. Or so I’ve been told by someone who supposedly knows these things.

But I digress.

A long time ago, read three years, The Great Gatsby was assigned as required reading for a writer’s conference I was attending. Not high school, a writer’s conference. At first I kind of struggled through the story. It was a bit slow, but seeing 1920′s New York through the eyes of an author than lived it, kept me going. When I finished the book, my initial reaction was…meh. It was alright. For a decorated classic, I found it lacking.



That was when the after taste kicked in. I mulled on it and after a while I realized that, not only did I like the story, I loved it. I don’t know what changed. Maybe the story needed time to sink in. Maybe I needed time to mature as a writer and in finding MY voice, I also found F. Scott Fitzgerald.

A lot of people I know, have trouble reading books written in the first person point of view, which this book is. I actually like that perspective and it is my choice for telling stories myself. I find it intimate. I like the fact that the story cannot be revealed too early. I love the ability to use it for unreliable narration. The introspection is where Fitzgerald makes his money and it is where I found a kindred spirit.

Many have examined The Great Gatsby and some, in their analysis, state irrefutably, that the main character, the narrator, Nick Carraway, is an unreliable narrator.

I am of the opposite camp. Nick is not unreliable. There is nothing to lead us, the reader, to believe that anything he says is anything other than the truth as he witnessed it. I think, therein lies the rub. They think he saw it as he wanted to see it. I think he relayed exactly what happened as it happened. Gatsby is the unreliable one. Gatsby is the one feeding lines and laying down smoke screens. Gatsby is a consummate window dresser. Nick was his conscience.

An unreliable narrator, knowingly or unknowingly, portrays fiction as the truth. Nick did neither. He suspects from the get go, that there was more to Gatsby than he let on. That is why he was drawn to him. Gatsby was the exact opposite of Nick.

Which brings me to Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 film, The Great Gatsby.

Baz, in my mind, successfully brought the book to life. He stayed true to the book and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s vision. I watched the extras. Baz walked in Fitzgerald’s footprints. He visited the area that inspired the book. He cast his actors and actresses, starting with Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire because, they too loved the book.

Visually, it was spectacular, a cinematic homage to the old films. That said, the use of green-screen was obvious and glaring.

The music was a modernized version of jazz circa the 1920′s and it worked…mostly. I don’t mind modernizing old music. I don’t mind creating new music that feels old. Both of which Baz accomplished with thanks to some great talent like Brian Ferry, Florence and the Machine, XX, etc. But, where he allowed himself to falter was allowing himself to believe Jay Z’s misconception that jazz was to the 20′s what “hip hop”, his word for the rap in the film, is to today.

I’m sorry, no. No it is not. Not even close.

The rap felt tacked on. Like an after thought. Like a ploy to draw a wider audience. Essentially, he realized that the unfortunate truth about today’s movie goers, is that quality storytelling only appeals to an infinitesimal minority. The majority want films with explosions, sex and gore. They don’t want to think. They want to watch a cinematic video game.

Look at the film festivals for proof. Those films win the awards but rarely win the box office.

Where I feel Baz was brilliant, where I feel he truly channeled Fitzgerald, was in the stuff he added and what he cut out. The addition of Carraway being coerced into writing down the events, was brilliant and in keeping with the character. He even threw a curve-ball at the people claiming Carraway was an unreliable narrator. He put Carraway in a Sanatorium. It is also a nod to the young actors and actresses that, like moths, get too close to the flame of celebrity and end up in rehab.

Carroway got too close to the flame that is Gatsby.

Very nicely done.

Finding Traction

I am sitting here, keys clacking, words stacking as the strains of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen fill the room. Why, you ask, am I listening to Christmas music when the season is done? Because, for someone that writes Christmas stories with a classic bent, Christmas never ends.

I am hard at work on my second Christmas book. A little lighter tale with not so much history. Okay, there is history in it, but the story is a bit more fun and not so melancholy as The Good King.



Before I forget, thank-you to all of my readers for making The Good King book launch so much fun. Thank-you for reading it and thank-you for your glowing responses. Not only did the story do what I had hoped it would, hit the right note, but the illustrations were a huge hit and married to the story perfectly. Meg Simmons is just as excited as I am about the responses. Keep them coming, good and the constructively bad.

Back to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

Fresh of the glow from the accolades, Meg is excited to dig into the illustrations for the second book tentatively titled Archibald and the Three Gentlemen. Ya, it’s clunky but I’m working on it.

I don’t want to get into too much detail because it is still in progress, but what I will say is that it is full of dark humour, ghosts, and the Christmas miracles that I like to seed into my stories. Yes there is a moral but I won’t beat you with it. Needless to say, I’m as excited as Meg.

What prompted this blog, is a fellow writer’s blog about music and the creative process. Kevin Craig, YA author and all-round goofball (in a good way), writes about the emotional soundtrack to a book, HERE<

Music plays a large roll in my creative process. It adds texture and emotion, it inspires and sets the mood, it takes me back in time and is the tapestry upon which my story unfold. All of which I’ve told you before… I think.

Music was the inspiration and the basis of The Good King and while not so prevalent in the second book, music, or rather the song, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, is the thread and will appear throughout the book.

This year is going to be an exciting year. The Ontario Writer’s Conference is fast approaching, as is The Muskoka Novel Marathon. Both of which I am considering attending. They say never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Well I did and grabbed it by the tongue and plan to never let go.

O writings of comfort and joy

Comfort and joy

O writings of comfort and joy.

Take it away Irish Rovers!

Bittersweet 2013

The year 2013 has not been without its moments, all memorable, but not all joyous. Success wise, I placed in the top ten in an “Opening Line” writing contest for Writer’s Digest, I printed/published my Christmas book, The Good King and was one of three winners in a writing contest for The Word Weaver newsletter for the Writer’s Community of Durham Region. All that and I will find out in a few days the results of another Writer’s Digest contest.

Things for me, as a writer, are definitely looking up.

BUT.

In the process, I lost my mother to a lengthy battle with Cardiopulmonary Disease. She was only 66 and she never got to see the book. She died on the 13th of November and the book was released on the 30th. I had it in my computer and didn’t want to show it to her. I wanted it to be a surprise.

Writer’s draw from life, from the scenery, from the sights, the sounds, but it is the familiar emotions that add flesh to the characters. The most important emotions, the ones hardest to write, are that of grief and empathy.

Why is it hardest to write? Two reasons. One, if handled with a ham hand or draped in the cloak of ultimate coolness, sexiness or cocky confidence, it will take the life right out of the words. They will fall flat and wooden on the reader’s ear and nothing turns away readers faster than flat, wooden, one-sided writing. The other reason? Quite frankly, it hurts. It tears at us. Like picking a scab from a cut, it opens the wounds of loss. It is personal and intimate.

Right now, even though, in the world of writing, the door of opportunity has opened a crack for me, I am a walking wound. My emotions are at the surface just waiting for an errant breeze to peel the scab off. I am thankful for my friends and family for being the balm that helps ease the pain, and to you, my readers, for giving me the distraction I so sorely need.

So please excuse me if my writing in the near future carries a heavy tone of melancholy. Well, more so than usual.

There are good things on the horizon. Several projects in the works that I am very excited about, among them a sequel to The Good King entitled Three Ships for Three Kings. And several that I am ashamed to say, still wallow in edits and indecision. All that and my hunt for a Literary Agent/Publisher has gained new life.

Stay tuned.

From my pen to your page,

I wish you and yours, a Happy and prosperous New Year!

Book Launch: The Good King

Let me start this off with a disclaimer. This will not be your typical book launch post. One, because I haven’t the foggiest idea what that looks like, and two, because that’s just the way I roll.

I am over the moon excited to announce that my story, The Good King or, alternatively The Last Wish, has seen the light of day. Or rather, the colour of ink. Beautifully and classically illustrated by my talented cousin Meg Simmons, arranged by my sister-in-law Alicia McLean, and organized, finalized, and polished by James Dewar and Sue Reynolds at Stone’s Throw Publications, it has been sent to the printer. In little over a week, I will have a limited run of 300 copies in my hands. Just in time for Christmas.

So what is The Good King? And why did you print this before your novel? Well it’s a long story. Yes I am doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do, what people say that a lot of author’s do, they put their first book away and concentrate on a marketable book to get their names out there. This would open the door for their “baby”, the book that doesn’t fit the mold, so to speak.

Well, that isn’t entirely the case, but close enough, I suppose. Truth is, this story came to me as my wife and I were driving to a funeral and then on to a book launch for a friend. It was in the murk where day meets night. Snow was falling in big, fluffy, blinding flakes. A misheard lyric of a favourite Christmas carol bounced around in my head while Christmas music played on the radio.

“Good King Wenceles  last looked out.”

“Where are you, Dale?” My wife broke the spell. She is used to me writing in my head while I drive, my body on auto pilot while my mind is a million miles away. Not something I recommend, by the way. I was looking through the eyes of the Good King as he looked out on the feast of Stephen.

The traditional Christmas ghost story like A Christmas Carol and such, has fallen by the wayside. In its place, Spongebob and My Little Pony ring in a cotton candy pink and lemon yellow Holiday.

I wanted to bring back the classics. I wanted to tell a story that felt comfortable along side T’Was The Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol and The Gift of the Magi.

A story started to unfold on that snowy night. The voice of the Good King’s page drew me onwards. The next bunch of months I fell into the true history of King Wenceslaus. The glaring differences between the carol and the history stood out, but my brain found a common thread and stitched the two together.

I could go into great detail on this, but I will get to the matter at hand.

I am not one that likes to “toot his own horn”, to quote the cliche. I won’t tell you it is a good book because, quite frankly, what I deem good may not be the same as you, the reader’s, idea of good. I don’t want my words about my own writing to steer you away from something I may write in the future. But, I will say, I am happy with this story. I was happy with the original version, but with the proper amount of feedback and time for it to steep, the story got better.

It is, to me, a traditional Christmas ghost story with a good message. One that I will read to my kids on Christmas eve, and one that I hope you like well enough to do the same. That, was my only goal.

Of course, I can’t say enough, how happy I am with Meg’s drawings. She captured the old feel of the story. To quote my good friend Jeremy, “It looks like they were drawn in the 1800′s.”

Copies will be available at Blue Heron Books in Uxbridge, Ontario after December 14, 2013. (Thank-you Shelley!)

What’s that? You want a sample? Well, OK, if you insist.

“Sire Boleslas was not happy. He vowed to return. He said the tariffs would now be his to collect.” I paused before continuing, “He said you were not fit to rule.”

“He was always ambitious to a fault.” He shook his head and sighed, his breath further fogging the glass.

“I don’t trust him sire.” I moved to his side. “I fear his jealousy knows no bounds; that the food he delivers is tainted.”

“It may be, lad.” He sighed again, his sadness and disappointment evident in its tone.

“And yet you eat it?” In my shock I took a faltering step backwards.

“I must, good page, I must. He has always been thus, jealous of my grandmother’s attentions; of my inheriting her rule. Alas would that he knew all that I have is his as well. I value not silver nor gold. I hold friendship and peace above all. But his follower’s words bend and poison his ear and he is blind to it. He is my brother. I must have faith that blood is indeed thicker than water. Besides, what would we have if we did not have faith?” He offered me a sad smile.

I answered him simply, “You, my liege, we would still have you.”

Falling Notes

While I’m waiting to drop a big writing news-bomb, I give you this blog inspired by fellow writer, Kevin Craig (links at the end of the bit). Stay tuned.

I am a high school band geek.

Or, rather, I was a high school band geek. Now that’s not to say I did nothing else. I was also on the track team and the swim team. The difference being, the music stayed with me over the years. I learned something more than just how to read those little black spots on the page and coax semi-pleasing sounds out of the clarinet and saxophone, I learned an appreciation.



The music we played, for the most part was music we teenagers would never listen to. Classics, for the most part. Occasionally we’d play a newer tune, like Sweet Caroline, but even it was an old tune at the time. The stage band played swing, the marching band played marches and the concert band prided itself on filling the auditorium each Christmas concert and getting top marks in the competitions.

It is a legacy that has lasted over the years, and fitting testament for our band/music teacher, of the perseverance and our love of music. It is a legacy that my wife and I handed down to our daughters. Both of whom followed in our footsteps. Both play clarinet and both show a passion for playing it well. In addition to band, both girls love singing and compete regularly.

So where and I going with this back patting? We attended our high school reunion this summer. We watched the new concert band play and were treated to a blast from the past when a handful of past music students, stage band members, got up and played.

It was then that I realized something. A rather sobering thought. When I looked back at how many kids stayed in music right up to grade 13, the year the school board deemed music class expendable, I am shocked by how many never pursued it beyond that. In grade 13 we sacrificed our lunch hour to take music. And it wasn’t just five or six students grade 13 students, it was all the grades.

Sure I know of some that still play in their spare time and even fewer that went on to eke a career out of it. But the others, myself and my wife included? We stopped.

Truth be told, I didn’t pick up a clarinet or saxophone again until my daughter started music class. Neither did my wife.

Over the years, I tried to teach myself guitar and piano, but I’m lousy at chords. I am a one note guy better suited to a wind instrument.

So why, if I learned so much more from music than I did from sports, did I give up on music? Because, if there was something out there for us to take, a course or something, it wasn’t made public knowledge. And, during that time, College and University was for learning a “useful” skill to apply to the work force. Remember I said the school board tried to cancel music altogether? So suffice it to say, they had no interest in it and as such, didn’t promote it. Instead I was forced into following what I did best in high school, math. Just math. No idea what to do with it, just keep taking it because it is a real course, a useful course.

Yes I gave up on music, but I retained what it taught me. It taught me to hear past the clutter and to find the real music. All genre’s have it, you just have to listen close to find it. Even rap or back metal.

That is a lesson of tolerance, of not judging a song by its infantile lyrics or its screechy vocalist, it’s about finding the guitar player or the bassist, keyboardist, drummer etc. that is supplying the soul.

It’s the same in life. People are like music. Some gentle and quiet, some (like myself) loud and in your face. It is up to us as listeners or observationalists or just simply as humans to see beyond the cover. Appreciate each other’s differences.

It is a rule I use in writing, not math. It’s funny how that worked out, isn’t it?

So let the music move you and do what you can to keep it alive. Can you imagine a world without music, or art or books? Me neither.

Want more on how music can change you? Visit Kevin Craig here. And at his music blog, All The Write Notes where he also talks about band geeks and music in general.

Oz, The Great and What Now?

Anyone who knows me knows that I see books and movies as small peepholes into vast worlds beyond the scope of the book or movie. To quote my youngest daughter, an aspiring author herself, “You can write about them (characters and the worlds they inhabit), you can even finish the novel or series, but they never leave you”.



Smart kid.

I believe writers, like any other artist, be they sculptors, painters, singers, musicians, chefs, dancers etc, never actually finish their projects. Long after their books or scripts have been published or produced, writers still are thinking of new scenes they should have added, new dialogue, new character twists.

Why am I going on about all this? I am a huge fan of the classics. My girls are also fans of the classics with The Wizard of Oz being one of their favourites. For my eldest’s birthday, we got her Oz, The Great and Powerful.

I have to say, I was anxious to see it. It always thrills me when a director honours the original and tries to stick as close to cannon as possible. I wanted to see how they updated Oz.

Well, we just watched it and I have to say, James Franco’s performance as Oz made Keanu Reeves look like Sir Anthony Hopkins by comparison. Mila Kunis’s screeching was terrible and Rachel Weiss only marginally better.

It is a true mark of a film when aside from the venerable Bill Cobbs, but his screen time was too sparce, the CGI Flying Monkey was the best actor in the whole film.

The effects were… ok. Standard. The CGI was obvious (yes I know there is no such thing a real flying monkeys) and pulled me out of the film. I’ve seen better CGI than fit seamlessly. Yes the monkey was cute and the little china girl was absolutely adorable, but the fit and finish was off.

Visually it was stunning but I couldn’t help feel it was a copy of the much better film, Alice in Wonderland.

I loved the premise and if nothing else, this film made me want to go out and buy the whole L. Frank Baum series.

It looked and felt like it was created solely to showcase the 3D venue (which is what killed 3D it’s first and second times around). Make a good movie first and foremost, then make it fit the venue of choice. Kind of like writing, isn’t it?

I suppose that the rave reviews of Wicked had me hoping for more of the same with Oz the Great and Powerful, but it just ended up being cheap smoke and mirrors.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover, But Can You?

“You just slip out the back, Jack

Make a new plan, Stan

You don’t need to be coy, Roy

Just get yourself free

Hop on the bus, Gus

You don’t need to discuss much

Just drop off the key, Lee

And get yourself free.”

Paul Simon

Disclaimer: For those new writers following my blog and my blind stumbling through the minefield that is writing, make sure you read all the way to the end.



There comes a time when you question your place in things. Relationships, jobs, sports, just about anything you do, or will do, will come under the microscope. Perfection is a myth. Happiness is accepting what you have without question and knowing where it fails and where is succeeds.

Nowhere is that more evident than the arts or, for the intents of this article, writing. Where else would you subject yourself to the constant criticism, the abject failure without guidance of what you’ve done wrong, what you just haven’t done good enough or, just simply, that it wasn’t “what they were looking for”? In any other job, there would be only so much you could take before you said, enough was enough, on to greener pastures.

Lets face it, relationships are the only place we will face that kind of strife and yet continue on, and yet here I am looking at the industry and glancing at the door. The problem is, I like the thrill of writing too much. I keep turning the other cheek even though I know how much it will hurt. It’s like I have my own little peephole into a myriad of worlds. Upon initial peep, the worlds are mere pencil sketches. Black and white. The longer I look, the more colour and detail fill up the space. To put it in terms of my writing, the more flesh is added to the bones.

I know all writers go through moments of self-evaluation, or at least I think they should, in which they question their ability or their place in the grand machination that is the writing industry. They draw strength from those that have persevered through numerous rejection. Thing is I can’t help but relate the industry to Stephen Kings horror short, The Mangler. To me, the Mangler is a printing press.

Like the story, it chews up writers with reckless abandon, impervious to their plight or growth. It offers neither rhyme nor reason for its choices and yet we writers line-up around the block. We await our turn. The odds aren’t in our favour and skill sometimes has very little to do with the selection process. For every one that avoids The Mangler, 100 fall into its gaping maw.

We pop out the others side, lick our wounds and fall into place at the end of the line again. We are confidant that this time, is the time.

Why do we do it? The pay is terrible, the hours are long and the criticism harsh.

Why? Because words are our crack cocaine. We can’t get enough of them. Molding them into things, into people, into places. We mix them into colours so vivid they open our minds eye and we see them. They add texture, odour and sound to thin air. Some not pleasant but, if we do our job right, they feel real. We can grab the readers by their senses and pull them bodily into the book. We immerse them so deeply in the story that when it is over they emerge, gasping for air like a drowned swimmer.

That, right there, is why we suffer the flailing to our psyche. We endure the rejections that sting like a …. well, a lot. Rejections that rarely, if ever, help us grow our skills. No, that is something we have to do ourselves.

So while there are days that I desperately want to leave this lover, I can’t. It just keeps pulling me back in because next time, next time is the time. I can feel it.

Do you hear that, Mangler? Your time is coming.

The Author’s Voice – Time for some History with Elaine Cougler

A few years ago (over one, under three) I went to a writer’s conference in Niagara Falls called the Algonkian Writer’s Conference. http://algonkian-niagara.com/index.html. There I met with a number of authors, some familiar and some new, and got the opportunity to speak to a handful of Literary Agents and Publishers/Acquiring Editors. It was an eye-opening weekends filled with new voices, story pitches and a sense of hope.

One of the new faces I met is Elaine Cougler. She and her husband were a joy to talk to and, her story piqued my interest.



Hi Elaine, thank-you for stopping by The Author’s Voice. I’ll get the standard questions out of the way first and then we’ll get to the good stuff, ok?

-That sounds great, Dale! Thanks for having me as a guest on your most interesting blog. I enjoy its friendly and informative tone. And I well remember meeting you in Niagara Falls at the Algonkian. Your best supporters, your lovely wife and daughters, were with you, as I recall. So important to have a cheering section.

I’ll tell you, I was glad they were there.

First off, how long has The Loyalist’s Wife been in the works?

-I’m a bit embarrassed to tell you that it took me six years to bring this project out into the world. Of course, writers will tell you that a first novel takes ten years so I suppose I should count myself lucky. As you know the learning curve is very bendy and the road is steep but reaching the pinnacle of publishing has made these last couple of months a roller coaster thrill of a lifetime.

A book takes as long as it takes to come to life. There is no time limit so no need to be embarrassed.

How did the idea of the book come to you?

-I read a book about how to write a novel which suggested that old saw of writing what you know. I knew I loved to read historical fiction and I knew I had Loyalist ancestors. I didn’t know much about those Loyalists and thought the whole American Revolution would be interesting to know more about, especially since my beginnings here in Canada stem from the British viewpoint.

Why did you decide to Self-Publish?

-I came to this decision after five years of absolutely knowing I wanted to publish traditionally. Somehow, along those years of writing, taking courses, rewriting, joining critique groups, rewriting, getting involved in social media, specifically author groups, starting my own writing blog (On Becoming a Wordsmith), rewriting, and sending out the requisite dozens of query letters, I called a halt. I took back control, a comfortable thing for a control freak.

I already had a publishing company from the days when my husband and I created and sold across Canada about a dozen different Classroom Puzzlers for secondary teachers. Because of its name, Peache House Press had attracted writers looking to publish at that time. What better way to manage my own publishing life than to use my own company? Of course being an English teacher and a perfectionist, I wanted the book perfect. I found an amazing printer, a dream of a cover designer, and a detail-oriented person who set up the insides. The book is a dream come true for me.

I can only imagine the vast amount of research that went into this book. Was it a process you enjoyed?

-The simple answer is that the research was heavy but, oh, it was such a joy. First I started with a lovely book about Butler’s Rangers, a group who fought for the King, and from one of whom I am descended. Then I went on the Internet where a writer can find out virtually anything she needs to know. Of course I had to verify what I learned but sitting at my computer and discovering snippets was exhilarating. My local library was, naturally, a haven for me. And, finally, my husband accompanied me on many a trip to museums and forts in New York and the Niagara area. Walking where my characters might have walked helped me bring realism to The Loyalist’s Wife.

How did you decide when enough was enough?

-Once I had a picture of how the research would work as a backdrop for John and Lucy’s story, I just started writing. Along the way, if I needed to look up something I typed in red so that when I wasn’t writing I could verify the facts or learn how muskets worked.

As someone that loves researching, I sometimes find it hard to step back and decide how much I can use. I didn’t say ‘want to use’ because when the research fascinates me, I want to use it all, to share my findings with the world, but there is a point, when writing fiction, when the writer has to use only what is necessary. Did you find it hard to do that?

-Yes, I did. I learned how to skin a raccoon, how to build a log cabin, and the difference between muskets and rifles. These are good things to know for the writing but slow the action of the story if the writer uses all that detail.

What drew you to writing “historical” fiction?

-I am a voracious reader and historical fiction is what I most like to read for its added bits of reality. Wonderful authors have taken me to times and places, unusual and unknown. I wanted to do that, too.

Do you have plans for a sequel? Or is there another book in the works?

-As I traveled the journey with The Loyalist’s Wife, I came to see that this was a much bigger story than I could write in one book. The Loyalist Trilogy was born and I am currently working on book two in the series, The Loyalist’s Luck.

Have you dabbled in any other genres or is there a genre you’d like to write in?

-I have a memoir running around in my head just now but so far it’s running alone. And along with research for my historical novels, I have been learning about my own background. Just now I am putting together a picture book of my family ancestors, their pictures (where I have them), their grave sites, and little tidbits about each of them. This will help my grandchildren know from whence they come.

At the end of the day, do you ever feel over-loaded with history and binge on bad sci-fi? How do you step out of your world when the computer gets turned off and your writing is done for the day?

-Oh, I am so bad! I play Scrabble on my iPad and I do Sudoku!

Scrabble is a great tool to stretch one’s vocabulary. In fact both are brain sharpening tools, good for you. I like Text Twist and Boggle.

Thank-you, Elaine! Oh and welcome to the WCDR!

Here is a little tease from The Loyalist’s Wife.

Hours later, a piece of wood in the fire fell and Lucy jerked upright, her wild eyes darting about the dark cabin. The candle had died. By the dim light from the stove she could see she was alone, but outside Molly [the cow] bawled and the chickens were clucking in a dreadful cacophony of frightening sounds. What was out there? She bumped against the table on the way to the window.

Solid black was all she saw through the running raindrops on the glass, except for a faint patch of limpid light, not even light, just a silver lightening in the grass, the window’s weak reflection. The animals settled and she breathed more slowly. They could wait till daylight.

The fire fixed, she went to the bedroom where she lay under the patchwork quilt, fully clothed, eyes wide open, the loaded rifle scant inches from her hand.

Interested in reading more about Elaine and The Loyalist’s Wife? Buy the book. Seriously, visit Elaine and buy the book.

Elaine blogs at On Becoming a Wordsmith which may be found at www.elainecougler.com. She also is frequently found here: @ElaineCougler, Facebook/ElaineCouglerAuthor, and LinkedIn author groups. The Loyalist’s Wife is available on Amazon and Kobo.

Like always, I encourage you to ask questions, leave comments, mill about. Elaine will stick around to answer a few.

For a list of previous guests, click here. I’ve posted my favourite quotes along with published status.

Breaking the Silence

Cattarina Watching Poe

OK, yes I have been suspiciously absent. I would normally lament my lack of inspiration, wax long on the toils of everyday life, but I would be lying.

Truth of the matter is, my muse has been more talkative than a five year old after the Halloween spoils have been sorted. It is on a sugar high or extreme caffeine buzz. Whichever the case, far be it for me to complain.

My only gripe is that my muse isn’t focusing on one story. It is, instead, flinging tasty morsels from all my stories. Three Ships for Three Kings, Appetites, Echoes and a new collaborative story that is building faster than a brush fire in August. Tentatively titled Left Behind. It’s a Sci-Fi, apocalyptic, dystopian quest. But that is all I can say about it other than that I am working with three other incredibly imaginative writers that also fall under the spell of intuitive writing. Which means, essentially, four brains working as one. Exciting.



On the flip side, I really haven’t had much to rant/blog about. The list of author’s I want to interview on the Author’s Voice is growing and I have a few updates to do. Most notably, Lisa Llamrei launched her first novel, Reflections of the Gods, A book I had the pleasure of seeing in it’s developement. Ruth Walker also launched her novel, Living Underground, a book I have actually had a chance to read and thouroughly enjoyed… after I was done. It made me think and I like to compare it to The Great Gatsby in that it made me think long after I had finished. As well, I had a chance to finish Sandra Clarke‘s, Mind Over Matter.

So, when the Author’s Voice returns, I will be reviewing the three books mentioned above and encouraging reader to request a local author’s section in the book stores so they can see the talent right under their noses. Like What Blue Heron Books is doing.

And finally, I have Connie Di Pietro-Sparacino, Kate Arms-Roberts and Elaine Cougler coming in to talk about their books. As well as a few special guests I am actively working on.

So please accept my most humble apologies. It seems the cat has run off with my tongue and my fingers. Worry not, it’s only a flesh wound…

And now for something completely different.

Off to kill that damn Vorpal kitty.

Stay tuned.