Allan Hudson's Blog, page 37

The Alexanders - Dominic. 1911 - 1920

I love Historical Fiction.

The first draft of The Alexanders – Dominic, 1911 – 1920 is complete! Now comes the revisions, the corrections, the beta readers, the editing, the cover design….


Please read an excerpt from 1917 – World War 1 rages in Europe. Dominic goes to war. But before he goes, he attends a going away party, a birthday party...and he gets to try Poutine Rapee for the first time!














1917
When Dominic tells the recruiter about his bad leg and how he was rejected back in Scotland, he is informed that there are shortages of many men for different phases of the war besides the infantry but just as dangerous. When Dominic joins up he’s being assigned to the 26thBattalion (New Brunswick) under the command of Lt-Col A.E.G. McKenzie. Elements of the Battalion have recently been used in the Battle of the Somme and are now being readied for a planned British offensive on the German held French city of Arras but that’s not where he’s going. He’s advised that when he arrives in England he will be seconded to the Royal Air Corps to receive his training as an observer During the first weeks of February he goes on basic training in Valcartier, Quebec. It’s torturous, his leg aches every night. He discovers muscles he never knew he had until they show up being sore. The one thing is he’s exemplary at (his trainer’s words) is marksmanship. The Ross Mk II rifle and he have become close friends, almost lovers. Other recruits argue that it is too long for trench warfare but Dominic sticks up for the rifle proclaiming its long range precision as being significant. His rate of accuracy is the highest in his company. Training is shortened by the urgent call for men from across the ocean. He’s given a four day pass before he ships out. The twenty-fifth of February is bitterly cold, especially just as the sun sets, which is early today at 5:20. Any time spent out of doors is an invitation to more than frost bite, more like a frost banquet. Exposed skin will freeze in twenty minutes. It’s been that long since Dominic left his house. Walking into the city, he’s warm inside his new greatcoat. Ice crystals whiten a khaki scarf that covers his mouth. A beaver skin hat is pulled down to cover head, ears, nape of his neck and forehead. The greatcoat goes to his ankles. Pure Canadian wool that keeps you warm even if it gets wet. Inside the heavy coat, Private Dominic Alexander is wearing the olive drab uniform of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, wool jacket, shirt and tie and heavy wool pants with leggings wrapped about his calf to his knees, tucked into black sturdy boots large enough for two pairs of socks. He’s bundled up against the cold.


Two days from now, on Tuesday, he’s to report for duty at 6:00 a.m. in Halifax where he will embark for England on the HMS Andania. Dominic will depart for the war from the same wharf he arrived at a little over two years ago. Tonight he is attending a going away party for him and today is also his birthday. When he turns up Cameron Street, Maria’s aunt’s house is on the next corner on Gordon Street, less than a minute away. He’s familiar enough with the large house where Maria and her family tend to have their gatherings because the place is so big. Ma tante Emma, as she is called, is a widower whose late husband was a doctor. An addition contained his offices at one time but now they are all divided rooms to let, providing a continuous income. She keeps the main house as it was, terribly big, bought with the expectation of many running feet when they were younger, but alas, that wasn’t to be. A large open living room and adjoining parlour can hold twenty people in comfort. The kitchen has a cozy nook and small table in one corner and room for three or four cooks. With a dining room containing heavy furniture that can seat ten, there’s plenty of space. No one enjoys a get together more than ma tante Emma and her home is the perfect spot.
People are coming over later but Emma invited him to come earlier and have supper with her and Maria, who has been there helping. She made an old family recipe especially for Dominic, an Acadian treat she told him. What she called it sounded like Poo-tin Raw-pay. Maria assured him they are delicious and a lot of work to make. Dressed as warm as he is, by the time he knocks on the front door, he’s starting to feel a chill. A faint command to “come in” seeps through the keyhole and he enters the foyer. Maria greets him in the hallway, standing back slightly, not recognizing the shrouded figure at first. Only when he removes the scarf away from his mouth does she know who it is.
“Hello my beloved. Come in quick, don’t let too much of that cold in here.”
Regarding the coat of frost on the scarf where it covered his mouth, her eyes widen in disbelief.
“My goodness Dominic, did you walk from your house?”
While removing the hat, he’s nodding.
“Aye I did. I didn’t realize it was this cold.”
She pays more attention to his clothing as he removes his greatcoat.
“Oh how wonderful Dominic, you wore your new uniform. Here, give me that coat and let me see.”
She calls out to her aunt who is setting the table in the kitchen nook where she, Maria and Dominic will have their supper.
“Ma tante Emma, vien voir Dominic avec sa nouvelle uniforme!” (“Aunt Emma, come see Dominic with his new uniform”).

Passing his coat and hat to Maria, Dominic removes his boots to leave them at the door and steps forward to meet Emma. She doesn’t walk so much as she waddles instead. She’s a big woman, not too tall, with open arms and a large bosom that begs to be hugged. Rosy cheeks always look like they’re blushing and a perpetual smile adorns her face. Short greyish curls top her round head. An aroma of boiled potatoes follows her.
“What a handsome lad you are Dominic. A shame that you have to go off to war. We’ll have to telegram ahead to warn all those young British girls, won’t we Maria?”




She says that with a wink and engulfs Dominic in her arms. Stooping a bit to enjoy the warmth of her embrace, he takes in the lovely scent of jasmine she always wears.
“Now come Dominic, we have some delicious poutines for you. I’ve made a batch for our company to enjoy later on. If it’s one thing you will learn from us Acadians is that we love a good meal.”



Placing Dominic’s coat, scarf and hat on a hanger, Maria stows them in the closet by the front door and gives her boyfriend a quick hug, a peck on the check and waves for him to follow. The hallway has a set of stairs on the right and extends toward the back on the left. Colorful ribbons are strung around the walls and a hand printed sign hangs over the stairway proclaiming Bon Voyage, Happy Birthday and Best Wishes. The dining room is on the immediate right and the kitchen is on the same side. A table in the corner of the kitchen is set for three and Emma invites Dominic to take the head of the table near the window and has Maria take the side seat facing the kitchen and her place setting is on the opposite end of Dominic’s. She spoons out each a poutine on three plates and brings one to set in front of Maria and the other in front of Dominic. He stares at it and loses his appetite.
For those who’ve never eaten poutine rapee, the first time you see one can be a perplexing proposition. Dominic doesn’t know what to say. The object on his plate is the size of a grapefruit, a misshapen, steaming globule that makes him think of snowballs. Emma sets her plate down and turns to get them some tea. Maria is slicing hers in half when she notices the look on Dominic’s face and starts to giggle. She’s seen the same look before when someone is introduced to this delicacy.
“They’re much tastier than they look Dominic. Just cut it in bite size chunks and add some sugar or molasses on it. There’s delicious meat in the middle and you can choose between white sugar or brown sugar. I like brown sugar on mine. Some folks just eat them with salt and pepper.”He replies hesitatingly.
“Okay, if you say so.”





Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he does as she suggests. Picking up his knife, he slices the poutine down the middle. The two halves divide to expose a center of tender chunks of pork that have been salted and spiced.
“Well it certainly smells good.”
After placing cups the cups of tea down, Emma joins them.
“I prefer molasses on mine Dominic. You can try a little bite of each and see which you like best.”
Slicing small tentative pieces, he sprinkles a bit of brown sugar on one, white sugar on another, a drip of molasses on the third and only salt and pepper on the fourth. Not sure about sugar on potatoes, he tries the unsweetened one first. Biting into it, he closes his eyes and his teeth sink into the firm but creamy potato mixture with tender pieces of pork that almost melt in his mouth.
“Mmmm, it is good! Certainly much better than I expected.”
Maria agrees as she chews on her own piece.
“Told you so, didn’t I?”
Dominic tries the sweetened pieces and a smile states how much he agrees with the flavors but decides he likes the natural taste of the poutine best with salt and pepper. Poutine is a heavy meal and he shares a second one with Emma, Maria is full with just one. For their dessert one of her neighbors has dropped off a raisin pie for the celebration and it is another food that Dominic has not had before and he falls in love with the flaky crust and the sweetness of the dried fruit. The plates are cleared off and washed up before the trio sit at the table with their last cup of tea. People will not begin arriving before seven o’clock. With everything ready for their guests they broach a variety of subjects.
Dominic wonders how you make poutine. Emma fills him in.
“Well we started with about 90 potatoes because we wanted to have 60 poutine or so. After we peel them, half of them are boiled and mashed. The other half is grated, the liquid squeezed out with a cheese cloth which we call epurer. Salt and milk are added and the two potato mixtures are blended together, we call that part meler. Then you need to be quick because if the potato mixture is left out too long, they turn grey, still as tasty but not so pretty. So you form them into balls, rouler, add seasoned pork in the center and put them in a pot of boiling water for two hours and voila, you have poutine rapee.”
“Wow! That does seem like a lot of work”
Emma is Maria’s favorite aunt and she loves the rapport and goodwill between her aunt and her boyfriend and listens to their banter. Emma shows concern with knitted brows when she asks Dominic about going to war.
“What’s going to happen when you get to England Dominic?”










Thank you to Paul Chiasson (RIP) for explaining the making of poutine.
Thank you dear reader  for visiting the Scribbler. The Alexanders – Dominic 1911 – 1920 will be published in 2019. Watch here for more details.

Coming soon is my collection of short stories, some previously published on commuterlit.com, here on The Scribbler, and several on limited editions booklets dedicated to my grandchildren. Many of them are new. Titled Boxes of Memories.
Watch for details.

Guest Author Susan Toy. Readers...Resolve To Read More This Year.

Always fun to have this lady as our guest.    
Susan M. Toy is a Reader first, and then an author of two published novels and one novella. She shares her time between a trailer in southwestern Ontario and a verandah on the island of Bequia, where she can always be found … Reading!

Readers … resolve to read more in 2019!
 
I am a reader and I read a lot of books! No matter how many I read however I never seem to catch up with my ginormous to-be-read stack/list of books. Even though I try to follow Dr. Seuss’s advice:
    I never manage to come even close to catching up. But then that’s part of the fun in reading, isn’t it? The search for new books to read, test-driving new authors’ writing, the joy in “discovering” a new-to-you book or even a genre that you’ve never read before. I’ve spent my entire life reading and working with books and authors and am an author now myself, yet I never tire of reading, thinking about, discussing, recommending and discovering new books! I know there are many others out there just like me, too, so that’s why I say to you now – Make it your New Year’s resolution to read even more in 2019! You don’t need to count the books you do read, or compare numbers you’ve read with others. We are all different, we readers, not only in how fast we can read, but also in when and where we like to read, how we approach our reading, and even why or what we read in the first place. So no judgement calls here at all, folks! Just the suggestion that if you enjoy reading, you might want to make it a priority in your life to read even more.  I won’t go into the many ways that you can make more time to read. I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.



To help other readers along a little bit with suggestions as to what they might consider reading, I recently created a Facebook Group Your next great read ... suggestions for readers and authors that I hope will not only generate lists of books and authors for other readers to enjoy reading, but also some discussion about books and reading in general. It’s an open group and anyone may join – authors too, because authors are (or should be!!) readers themselves. Self-promotion is allowed, but authors are requested to contribute information on other books and authors, as well. I would love to see – eventually – a large membership of readers from all around the world (and we already have the beginnings of an international group) who benefit from the reading experience of everyone. I’m particularly interested in world literature (although only what is available in English, in my case) so I would love to hear about authors in other countries, especially non-English-speaking, who are publishing books that are available in English translation. I know other members already contributing to the site are also interested in particular genres or types of writing. Why not join us and see if you find something new-to-you that becomes Your Next Great Read!
So, Readers, are you ready to resolve to read more in 2019? I hope so, and that you will consider joining us. And, if you’re not on Facebook but are still looking for ways to encourage yourself to stick with this resolution of reading more, I suggest you consider following these blogs …
(This one, of course!) Allan Hudson’s South Branch Scribbler
Seumas Gallacher’s blog
And my own blog, Books: Publishing, Reading, Writing (I’m planning on writing a series, actually, about all the How, When, Why, Where, What, and Who on reading – subscribe to my blog and Stay Tuned!)
I mention these blogs primarily because we three authors make a habit of promoting other authors and their books. We also all write or have written about writing and publishing as self-published authors and we reblog interesting articles and blog posts written by other authors as well. As my personal interest has swayed from selling books to finding more readers for writing in general, I’ve written a number of posts aimed at readers (as well as addressing directly authors who continue to promote their own work too much!). You might find something interesting in one of these articles:
Why not read books simply because they’re well-written?
A challenge to all Readers …
HOW to get promotion for yourself and your book …






With great thanks to Allan Hudson for encouraging me to write this blog post and offering to host me, once again, on South Branch Scribbler! It’s always a pleasure to appear on your blog, Allan! 
 It is my utmost joy to have you here Susan.  
Susan M. Toy is a Reader first, and then an author of two published novels and one novella. She shares her time between a trailer in southwestern Ontario and a verandah on the island of Bequia, where she can always be found … Reading!   

 If you missed Susan's previous visits, interviews and short stories, follow these links.

50 Ways to Lose Your Liver.

4Q Interview

Family Jewels

Guest Author Bretton Loney of Halifax, NS.

  
 2018 is almost over. The Scribbler is most fortunate to have the talented Mr. Loney as the last guest for the year to share an excerpt from his latest novel – The Last Hockey Player. Watch for the 4Q Interview coming soon.

 
 
   
Bretton Loney is a novelist and short story writer whose work has appeared in anthologies and literary journals in British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Nova Scotia. In 2013 his short story, Tommy’s Mother, was shortlisted for the Writer’s Union of Canada’s Short Prose Competition for Developing Writers.
 
In 2015, he released Rebel With A Cause: The Doc Nikaido Story, a biography of the late Alberta physician, Dr. Harry Nikaido. Bretton lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia with his wife, Karen Shewbridge. For more information, please see www.brettonloney.com    


THE LAST HOCKEY PLAYER
By BRETTON LONEY
Chapter 1 – The Apprentice
                                                                          
Something heavy hits the floor and jerks me awake, heart pounding. Gusts of cold wind beat the open door back and forth as snow snakes its way inside. It’s hard to see. The warming fires have died down for the night and smoke hangs around our sleeping ledges. It parts to reveal a long, thick lump of dark clothing. Someone has fallen through our door.
“Quick,grab him and throw him out into the storm,” says Old William, who sleeps on the ledge closest to the door. “He could infect us all. We can’t have a stranger inside who hasn’t passed The Protocol.”
Some of the grey ones mumble agreement. Old William knows The Protocol all too well. Last spring his two sons came back from scavenging in the city and died in The Protocol Hut of the Second Sickness.
The stranger doesn’t stir. The Leader lights a torch and steps closer to the body. Puddles grow on the dirty floor as snow melts from his wrappings and the icicles hanging from his beard. He’s a big man. Bigger than Neil-Young who is the strongest and tallest of the younger ones in our village. He carries no weapon.
“What do you think, Britanny?” the Leader asks over her shoulder to the Teacher.
Britanny is wise. The Leader and other council members often seek her advice. She’s the most educated person in our village and does a lot of deep thinking. I know because as her apprentice, I spend most of the day with her. It’s been that way since my father died when a tree fell on him four summers ago.
“The Protocol is the right way,” says Britanny, as she opens the deerskin curtain that separates her sleeping ledge from the common area and props herself up on an arthritic elbow.
She pulls her fur covering more tightly around her. Britanny is always cold. She is a grey one. “But if we throw this man outside tonight in the cold, he will die. He looks strong. We all know our village needs another strong man. I say drag him out to The Protocol Hut and light a fire to keep him alive. In the morning we can decide what to do.”
The Leader weighs Britanny’s words. Many times I’ve seen her and Britanny talk quietly about what must be done. What to do with the sick. Who should join the hunting parties. Who must take the risk of scavenging. Which villages we’ll trade with in the spring and which in the fall. These decisions have given the Leader many wrinkles around her sad brown eyes that sometimes fill with tears when she and Britanny talk, their heads bowed together for privacy.
She waves her torch back and forth across the stranger, his long legs and arms sprawled on a floor littered with bone scraps the dogs have gnawed and little ones played with before bed.
“Britanny is right. We can’t throw him outside. It would be wrong to waste a man’s life. Since the last sickness, we have too few strong people to hunt, fish, and chop down trees. Old William and Coach, tie a rope around him so that you don’t have to get too close. Drag him over to The Protocol Hut and get a fire going, then bind the door shut. Sorry, but you two will have to spend the night in the barn. Take a fire bundle with you.”
Photo by John Silliman - UnsplashThere are grumblings in the darkness from some sleeping ledges as the sounds of the night’s constant hacking and coughing resumes. Some agree, some disagree, but the Leader has spoken and so it is done. She chooses Old William because he’s a grey one and can be lost if the stranger has sickness. She chooses Coach as Old William can’t drag the stranger through the snowbanks to The Protocol Hut by himself. They put a rope under each of the stranger’s arms and pull fiercely. He must be heavy as a tree trunk.
“Christ, why do I have to help?” Coach says, not so loud that the Leader hears, but loud enough that others do.
Another grey one sighs, breaks away from the arms of his wife, and comes to help. They drag the stranger from our warm nest into the blizzard and slam the door. Outside the wind thrashes angrily, pushing and pulling, desperate to find a way inside.
 
 
Chapter 2 - Britanny
 
We still know very little about the stranger who was thrust into our midst. He spent two days in The Protocol Hut and somehow survived. The hut is not well-made or warm because if anyone who stays inside is actually sick, we have to burn it to the ground and build another one. We warned everyone to stay three arms-lengths away as The Protocol says. My apprentice pushed a bowl of rabbit stew to him with a long stick. It was not much, as it is early winter and our food stores are already wearing thin as they did last winter. The hunting parties have caught some small game and birds, the fishers some trout and pickerel through the pond ice, but not enough. Hunger growls in every stomach.
The Leader and I come out in the failing afternoon light and tell the stranger to strip off all his clothes, even though it is very cold. We tell him to raise his arms so that we can see if there are boils under his armpits or rashes from the Black Sickness. He has strong shoulders and well-muscled arms. His chest and stomach are covered with thick brown hair. There is a large, jagged scar near his ribs.
The stranger has powerful thighs and a knee that is crisscrossed with thin, pink surgical scars. The Leader tells him to move his massive thing one way and another to make sure no open sores or lumps hide behind it. We cannot help grinning at each other as he does this.
 “Oh, to be young,” I whisper to the Leader, who has a greedy glow in her eyes.
“You have passed The Protocol, stranger,” says the Leader. “Now the three of us will go over to the Lookout’s Platform for some privacy to talk about where you’ve come from and where you’re going. We need to know of life beyond our village and the neighbouring villages.”
Photo by Elias Schumann - UnsplashThe stranger tells us he is originally from another Nova Scotia village that is a week’s journey from here. It is probably abandoned now, but no one knows for certain. He was working in Hershey, Pennsylvania, and got stuck there when The Crumbling came, eighteen years ago. He says that he and other foreigners were about to be deported by the U.S. Government when the second wave of the Bogota Virus washed over the world. It killed hundreds of millions in North America and around the world, destroying governments and institutions and decimating the medical community. Worse was to come.
He says that when he eventually decided to leave, it took him more than a year to walk to our village. It is insane to walk all that way alone. He is lucky to be alive.
The stranger has seen many things and people during his travels. Some were cannibals and he stayed well away, the piles of human bones scattered around the edge of their villages a warning sign of imminent danger. One night in upstate New York, he walked past a village in a forest that was all lit up, guarded by huge, barking dogs. The stranger says he was sure it had electricity. I burst out laughing at that one. I am certain that no one has had electricity anywhere since The Crumbling.   
Photo by Lukas Neasi - UnsplashSome of the villages the stranger passed through were organized like ours, with a few families living and sleeping together in one large shelter and sharing the food caught in the water, hunted and gathered in the forest, and the little that can be grown and traded. In others, individual families live in their own huts and only eat what the hunters and fishers in their family catch. How they manage to survive without sharing, I have no idea.
I tell my apprentice about all this afterward, as it is important for a bright boy like him to know as much as possible about the world outside our village. Because of his clubfoot, he has never travelled more than the half-day’s journey to the village of TimHortons that we trade with regularly. Even that trip makes his foot sore for days afterward, not that he says anything, but I can tell.
“I think some of what the stranger told us is B.S.,” I whisper to my apprentice as we get ready for bed. “Either that or he is crazy as a loon, and I don’t think he is crazy. His eyes are too wary to be crazy.”
I blow out the candle above our sleeping ledge and ponder the meaning of this stranger’s arrival. He has stirred my memory. You almost forget that once there were streetlights, waterproof coats and hot baths instead of the swallowing darkness of a winter forest, greased animal skin cloaks to cut the biting cold and, if you’re lucky, a pail of cold water to wash your face. It is depressing to remember what once was, and dangerous too. To stay strong it is best to try and forget the old life.
 The warming fires cast eerie shadows on the ceiling of our shelter as I try to fall asleep.   




Thank you for being our guest this week Bretton and sharing the first chapters of your captivating story. We look forward to your 4Q Interview.

Santa Clause is back for a 4Q Interview.

  Ho Ho Ho!  
The Scribbler is honored to have Santa Clause back for our third 4Q interview. Because December is such a busy time for St. Nick, the interview actually took place in October. We discovered many new things about Santa on his last visit to the Scribbler when we talked about the unionization and retirement of the elves, the magic of reindeer, the things Santa likes and houses with no chimneys. If you missed the informative session we had, please go HERE!
 
4Q: We touched briefly on this before but please tell us Santa, how you gauge whether a child has been good enough throughout the year to get gifts?



SC. Ho Ho Ho. Now that’s a good one Allan. Interesting enough, the Mrs. and I were talking about that last week. Things have changed with the growth of gaming and that seems to be all children ask for these days, computers, Ipods, gaming accessories and such. Most of them are merely vegetables these days with big thumbs that spend an inordinate amount of time staring at those little screens with fancy colors, sound effects and challenges, so most kids don’t have time to be bad. Things have certainly changed. No one asks for skates or sleds or dolls or board games anymore. I’m not saying that’s wrong but we always have to make these supply and demand changes at our massive warehouses at the “pole”.
Now, about good and bad. All children are born with a good heart but they learn to be bad on their own. Take yourself for example. If you remember the BB gun I left you one Christmas, well you had been a good little boy most of the year so I left it all wrapped up under the tree that Bea and Willie had put up. You were always a bit mischievous, however, you were a bad little bugger with that gun and I should’ve never left it there. Shooting out windows in abandoned buildings, light fixtures, little birds and the worst was when you shot your neighbor in the buttocks. You tipped the good/bad scales way over to the dark side. Now had it been up to me, you wouldn’t have gotten anything the next year. It’s only the fact that you got caught and your mother punished you sufficiently by taking the gun away that you had time to be good for the rest of the year so you see, the gauge tips back and forth. Had you done any more damage, I would’ve taken you completely of the list. I’m glad I didn’t, because you turned out okay. Ho Ho Ho!
 
4Q: Yes well, that’s an incident I’d forgotten about.  I guess I was a little over zealous with that gun. Anyway, moving along here, now that marijuana is legal in Canada, is anyone asking for pot related gifts?  


SC: Good question Allan. Not the little ones of course but the adults and teenagers do of course and we have to be diligent in accessing birth records to know if they are of legal age. We get requests for baggies of dope, bongs, rolling papers, pipes and other paraphernalia and we do what we can to accommodate those wishes and of course like those old ads for Red Rose tea, “Only in Canada, eh?”  
We linked up with suppliers in Ontario because the elves will never part with any of their weed, say it’s much too powerful for the average human. I would agree. Which reminds me, where did that bag of Cheezies go?
 
4Q: All the pictures we see of you depict a white bearded man that is quite plump. Are you overweight?
SC: Well you should know the answer from the last question Allan. Of course I’m fat. Do you think for one minute that eating over 1400 cookies, 800 donuts, 1100 sandwiches, 4300 glasses of milk, (the odd glass of beer), and 33 bags of mixed candies in one night won’t have an effect on me? Gracious, I have to diet for six months to get back to my normal weight of 300 pounds. Because you’re from Canada, I can admit that if it wasn’t for the marijuana I wouldn’t be tempted but the concoction the elves roll for me has a vicious munchies effect. I get pimples from all that sugar as well, it’s a terrible thing. But I do it for the kiddies. Can’t let them down now can I? Ho Ho Ho.
 

4Q: Your image is very popular and all over the place this time of the year. Do people or companies have to pay you royalties for that?
SC: The Public Relations department usually handles the requests for my image and at one time we could control the use of my photo, or the reindeers or the elves but now with the internet and so many scammers, it’s almost impossible. There are good people that pay (those were the kids that were especially good when they were children and mostly little girls) for the rights of my image. Otherwise it’s a free-for-all out there. I don’t care for those images that make fun of me or put me in questionable situations such as flirting with other woman. The Mrs. doesn’t like those either.
I like most of them and  its okay.
 

4Q: Any last comments Santa?
SC: Well I wish all your readers a very merry Christmas. Drive safely   out there. Don’t drink and drive.  Give to those that have less than you. Be kind to everyone and have a tremendous New year.
 
Thanks for being our guest this week Santa. You are the coolest!

Guest Author Aurora Jean Alexander.

This week the Scribbler has a guest all the way from Nashville, Tennessee. Aurora has exciting news to share with us, and she has agreed to participate in a 4Q Interview and share an excerpt from her new novel – Soul Taker. See below for links.



My name is Aurora Jean Alexander. I grew up in a family involved in politics and was blessed with an excellent education in several countries, holding a bachelor’s degree in BA. I was very lucky. I’m living by myself with three cats, working a full-time job and I am a new Paranormal Romance/Fantasy author. Currently, I work on a series with 13 books. My first book has been published today.



4Q: From following you on Facebook, I sense the excitement of your upcoming novel. Please tell us about Soul Taker. (AJA: Soul Taker is the first book in “The Council Of Twelve” series.
After long years in the line of duty as a ‘Soul Taker,’ Kate is worn out.
When she gets a new job offer from the ‘Powers Above,’ she accepts her new job as a Guardian gratefully without knowing that her teacher is one of the most powerful beings in existence, the Archangel Raphael.
Along with Raphael, she takes on her new task, and the connection between them grows.
Raphael helps, protects and supports Kate, but suddenly, she becomes a target for the Demons of Hell.
Raphael realizes that Kate means more to him than he expected, which causes him to fight furiously against danger. If he fails, Kate’s future will contain eternal darkness, evil, and torture.



4Q: We understand that this is book one is a series. What can you tell us about what’s coming?AJA: I call it ‘The Council Of Twelve’ series. Basically, the series is about twelve of the most powerful individuals in existence and their fight against Evil. The Twelve are fighting this war since the beginning of time, and it seems the opponents are about to win. During the series, the Council meets and involves different characters, people and creatures, each one of them a unique source of power. They all are able to add to the Council’s strength and support the Council in the eternal war. Nobody knows who will show up, when they will show up and what their story is. The new characters are not to be hired or picked. The development of the extension to the ‘Council Of Twelve’ isn’t recruitment – it’s a matter of confidence, bond, and soul.
Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash
During the entire series, we will meet new characters, together with the known ones. We will also find out more about each one of them as the series progresses. The fight against Evil is going to be more difficult with each book. Not only The Council Of Twelve collects more power. The ‘Other Side’ does too.

4Q: Please share a childhood anecdote of memory.

AJA:My Dad taught his two daughters quite early how to ski. It was one of the things he loved doing, and we both joined him. Every year, at the season start he made sure we got a refreshing course with a professional skiing teacher before our entire family went to amazing ski resorts on vacation. Our Mom only learned skiing a while into her marriage and was never the biggest fan of that sport. She preferred skiing for an hour or two and then go back to the hotel, go for walks or do other things while her husband and daughters stayed out in the snow for six or seven hours a day. When we were younger Dad often left us skiing to ourselves, with clear instructions which ski lifts we could use and showed us the range where we could ski until he returned. We knew better than to ignore his orders. Not that it was ever necessary. We had tons of fun and got better and better, only by practicing – and laughing. Photo by David Heslop on UnsplashMany years in our youth our Dad listed us for ski racing for kids and as long as we participated in the races were fun. (Even more since normally one of us won, and the other one was second.) The only thing we hated about these races was the fact that the hills the race took place rarely had a decent ski lift. We had to shoulder our skis and stumble up the hill to the starting point. We still think the race wasn’t about who was fasted; it was more showing who was least tired.I will always be grateful for these wonderful winters, full of skiing, laughter and spending time with my sister and my Dad, outside in the snow.

4Q: You have been more than kind to your fellow authors for some time now Aurora sharing their work and writing on your website. Please tell us about the Writer’s Treasure Chest.

AJA:Before I went public as an author, I did some research, and I read it was recommended for an author to show his/her writing in a blog. In fact, this was one of the first things I did when I created my author branding. I decided to ‘build’ a writer’s blog. In my head I planned to publish great posts, helping other authors with my advice and recommendations. Yeah – wonderful me. HAHAI’m realistic enough to understand that I’m only a newbie in this business. How can I advise someone when I have never been published? That was the time I had to see I needed the help and support of experienced authors and bloggers. I connected with amazing authors and writers; you are one of them, Allan! There are many fantastic, educational, helpful and supportive posts online, written by experienced and successful authors. Since they could teach new authors like me so much better than I can, I spread the word about interesting posts to other authors – and myself, yes.My research told me to connect with other authors on my blog. I opened Writer’s Treasure Chest to blog tours and guest posts. Finally, I decided on a ‘Featured Author’ category, and my blog started growing. I wanted to give back to many talented authors who permitted me to re-blog their own posts and help me developing ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest.’My blog is still a ‘Writer’s Blog,’ and that’s what it should be. In the meantime, I occasionally permit myself to publish some personally important article or blog some humorous posts too. I love to laugh, and humor is a part of me and my blog.There is a widget with a contact form on the right side of ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest.’ Everyone who feels like becoming a featured author on my blog is welcome to scroll down and send me a note. And please: don’t think, the ‘Featured Author’ interview is a one-time thing, it’s not! I got a questionnaire for returning authors. 




An excerpt from Soul Taker.


He looked at me. “Would you ever permit yourself to fall in love?”I gave him a warm, sunny grin as I felt I was on safe ground again. “Sure, why not? If he’s the right Angel. I figure now I wouldn’t consider it a problem.”Raphael seemed confused. “Why are you emphasizing the word ‘now’?” I grinned. “I only recently changed jobs. I was sad and depressed before, and I suppose I was not a friendly and social companion back in those days. In the meantime, I got the chance to relax, become more open, more fun to be with and develop my humor, now that I can be myself, I consider myself able to give a partner what he deserves.” Raphael watched me carefully during my speech. “You seem to have given it more thought than I expected.” I laughed loudly. “In fact, things have changed so much, so quickly, there wasn’t much time to think about it.” “And still, you’re answering so convincedly.”I shrugged. “I had too much time before.”Raphael nodded. “Does that mean you weren’t sufficiently busy?” I laughed. “No, I wasn’t. When I got a call, it was my job to be there. But it’s not as if I worked around the entire world. I was never the only one. Other sections were taken over by other angels. And sometimes we weren’t the ones called, but the other side.”Raphael rubbed his chin. “Did that bother you?” “Yes, it did. It was painful to listen to these particular souls screaming and thrashing in despair and fear. But there wasn’t much we could do.” At my response, Raphael was lost in thought but soon found another question to ask. “Did you ever fight for a soul?”My brows furrowed. “Yes. If it was a situation that was undecided I had to be fast. If I was quick, we had the chance to fight. I think, during all the centuries, I’ve done my job I had to fight maybe 20 times. And thankfully only lost twice.”Raphael nodded. “I got wind of you being horribly injured.”“Yes,” I confirmed. “It was a disaster. And even the Warrior Angels summoned for support were unable to do much. The opponents were too strong. In the end, they could only save me with my severe injuries. It took nearly an entire month for me to recover.”Raphael whistled through his teeth. “One month! They evidently ripped you to shreds, didn’t they?” I nodded sadly.The Archangel comforted me with a hug. “Thank God you’re here, you’ve got a new job, and there’s not that danger anymore. I’m with you too.” “But you won’t be here forever, will you?” I said with a sigh.Raphael laughed. “No, of course not. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting my students out of my sight once they finished studying. There will always be a special connection between us, Katie.”I smiled happily. “There will? That’s good to hear.” Raphael eyed me curiously but remained silent. I was too excited to notice what I just had revealed





Thank you so much, Aurora for being our guest and sharing your thoughts and words.

Thank you very much for having me, Allan. I really appreciate your support!
For those wanting to know where you can buy Soul Taker or to discover more about Aurora try these links:
https://m.facebook.com/AuthorAJAlexander/ http://www.aurorajeanalexander.com/ https://www.instagram.com/aurorajeanalexander/ https://www.linkedin.com/in/aurorajeanalexander/ https://mobile.twitter.com/AuroraJean_A https://plus.google.com/+AuroraJeanAlexander https://www.pinterest.com/authorauroraj/ aurorajean.alexander@aol.com

Buying links here.
Amazon Ebook US - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KVDJSQB

Amazon Ebook UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07KVDJSQB

Amazon Paperback US - https://www.amazon.com/dp/1790340160

Amazon Paperback UK - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1790340160

Barnes & Noble - https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/soul-taker-aurora-jean-alexander/1130002234?ean=2940155906568

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/911964

Guest Author Ivan Holiday of Florida

The Scribbler is privileged to have Ivan “Doc” Holiday back for another visit. With a new manuscript under his belt, he’s here to talk about his latest work.







Ivan has been a guest previously with an excerpt from his last novel – Roadhouse Legacy. For those that missed it, please go HERE!





This week Ivan has agreed to a 4Q interview.



Ivan Holiday Arsenault was born in New Brunswick, Canada. At 59 years old, Ivan “Doc” Holiday has worked a total of 55 nightclubs and bars, in boththe US and Canada, this is not counting the other 150 honky-tonks, dives & shitholes, he has worked short stints in over the past 36 years. He is recognized worldwide as a leading authority in the field of nightclub security.Ivan is the author of 5 books - “The Bouncer’s Bible – The Art and Science of working the door” ,“The Cooler's Grimiore -The Comprehensive Instructional Guide to Nightclub & Bar Security”, “Sun Tzu & The Art of Bouncing”, "The Bouncer’s Bible 2nd Edition" and 'Roadhouse Legacy'. 




In 1999 he produced the World’s First Nightclub Security Instructional Video under the Bouncer's Bible DVD title.In 2012 Ivan produced the World's first Bouncer produced & performed music video 'Pain Don't Hurt'? the lyrics written by Ivan. In 1986 he invented The CRV Child's Riding Belt & was nominated for an Honorary PhD. from the University of Alberta Canada, in recognition of his creation of the CRV Riding Belt and its contribution toward the rehabilitation of paraplegic children. In 2008 Ivan deployed to IRAQ as a Honeywell Defense Contractor to train US Army soldiers in a new Stryker Recovery System. Ivan has a PhD in Correctional Psychology but considers himself a 'self-educated man'. Ivan is an America Mensa member with a WAIS-III IQ of 144. 








4Q: What is the title of your forthcoming novel and tell us about it.





IH: The Title of my new novel is 'Merlin Ragnarr & The Book of Lies' Basically its a Fantasy novel about a one and only college of Viking magic called “Şeiðrune School of Sorcery”. Only teens of Viking heritage that possess Şeiðr Blood (Magic blood) can enroll. I made Şeiðrune School of Sorcery one of the 12 schools of magic from the world of JK Rowling's Harry Potter series...I use brief references in my novel under the 'Fair use act' but avoid any plagiarism.




4Q: This story is quite a bit different from your last novels, Roadhouse legacy and the Bouncer’s Bibles. What inspired this story?



IH: I love the writings of JK Rowlings and her Harry Potter series. But I also have a great love for Viking mythology...Not the crap the movies put out but REAL Viking myths and legends. So I combined my two passions into a book series. My school is very different from the other institutions. The students are older, stronger and more physical. All the magic and rituals are based on REAL Viking Seidr and Rune magic. My books even have a glossary in the back to translate Old Norse language to English. You will be able to speak old Norse tongue by the time you finish the novel! Lol. 






4Q: Starting from today, what else do you have to do to get your new story ready when can we expect it to be ready for either per-purchase or to buy.




IH: I am just now into my first draft review. Page 79 of 450. Its slow going because of the fun I'm having with it. But when my wife pry's it from my fingers..it should be published February 2019. 








4Q: What next for Ivan Holiday, the author?


IH: Just started Book 2 of 7..... 'Merlin Ragnarr & The Tale of Two'




An Excerpt:

Within the last few years and as of late, Devilin the Darkmind had become increasingly disgruntle. He was annoyed and far from content, in regards to the teaching of Dark Fjölkyngi (magic). He believed and argued strongly, that the absolute scope of Dark Arts were not being taught nor attained.That the doctrine of Dark Fjölkyngi, needed to take a more advantageous path of study and start exploring the deeper, darker side of Viking Fjölkyngi and Şeiðr (Rune magic). The Morpheus and Elvin knew where their brother was going with this particular line of thought and voiced their disapproval of his proposal, straight away. Both brothers warned Devilin, that to venture deeper into the dark side was to enter the realm of Svartr Fjölkyngi (Black Magic). This level of sorcery was not only dangerous but totally forbidden at Şeiðrune. Devilin argued that he could control the Svartr Fjölkyngi…that together they could harness its infinite powers and untapped potential. Morpheus quickly reminded his brother, of the pitiless path of addiction that awaited those who carelessly ventured down that risky road. Many who drank from the dark chalice of Svartr Şeiðr suffered a terrible, tormenting thirst for its malevolence power. Devilin rebuked his brothers, with a curse and a hiss, he labeled them both, cowards and fools. Morpheus informed Magus Darkmind, that he alone, was the elected Headmaster of Şeiðrune… and with that being said, never would he allow Svartr Fjölkyngi to be taught or even spoken of, in his school. Morpheus refused to discuss the matter any further and turned his back on Devilin, putting to rest the debate and his brother's belligerence.Magus Darkmind, took his elder brother's final say, and his back, as an inexcusable insult, that filled him with blind rage. Devilin pulled a jewel handled, dagger, made from the fang of a Dragon, from the inside pocket of his cloak, and headed in Morpheus's direction.



Thank you Ivan for being our guest this week. For you readers looking for more information on Ivan and his novels, follow the links below.


https://www.amazon.com/Road-House-Legacy-Ivan-Holiday/dp/1478792825

Returning Author Ann Knight of New Brunswick.

It's a wonderful day to have Ann back on the Scribbler. This is her second visit and she talks about the craft of writing. A special treat awaits you, dear reader, as she shares an excerpt from her latest work, Nightshade.




If you missed Ann's previous visit, you can read more about her and her work by going HERE! 





It’s a tough call, being an artist. It’s like chasing the rabbit down the rabbit hole, into the unknown. We’re not so afraid of what we’ll find; rather we are afraid of what we might never find. We race against ourselves though we don’t always realize it. We are our own competition. How much deeper does that rabbit hole go? How close can we get to that rabbit? At any point, we could stop chasing the rabbit; turn around; change direction. But we don’t. We’re compelled. Driven. We’re driven to succeed – to create something – to catch the prize.
It works like this…
Writing demands a lot of time, commitment, energy, and an open mind. Defining your craft is not an easy task; perhaps there is no real need to define it, but only to accept it for what it is. One word at a time, one page at a time, a story is born. 
As the author, there are times when I am creating the story, but there are also times when the story is creating itself and I am simply jotting the events down on the page as I see/hear them. Achieving complete emotional identification with the story and one or more characters is my ultimate goal. This allows me to immerse myself into a strong, imaginative storyline. Accomplishing this ‘triggers’ my commitment to the project.
There are characters that become an extension of you, and this is especially true about (the character of) Darion Rhys. This journey, writing this series, has been profound and empowering. Darion and I have been through a lot together. Conflict is an important subject in literature. The Rising series explores themes such as identity crisis, authority and control, rebellion, and love. 
Darion was trained to be a soldier. She was raised to follow rules and to comply with those in power. She’s never had full control over her life. She is sixteen in the first book, a sensitive time in life when raging teenage hormones begin to disrupt our views and opinions about life, love, and identity. She questions not only the social order, but the intentions of those around her as well. Darion is on a wild emotional roller coaster, and it ultimately strengthens and defines her sense of self.
The series also looks at the subtleties involved around love triangles. There are three young men in Darion’s life–one she loves dearly; one who loves her dearly; and one who has and represents everything a young lady should be in love with—money, influence, power. Given her situation, does Darion have the right to fall in love?
Enjoy this sample from the newest book in the series, Nightshade. A series of events has placed Darion exactly where her family wanted her—in a position of influence. But this has also placed her in the clutches of the Rothwell family, and specifically, on the arm of the youngest heir, Johnny. After her new title was announced to the world, her rebel family moved in and rescued her from the Rothwell mansion. She can be safe now—but for how long?


Ann Knight books can be ordered by visiting: annknightfiction.com. 





An excerpt. (copyright is held by the author. Used with permission)


1


FREE AT LAST




Dark black billows of smoke choke the sky. This is my first taste of freedom in a long time and I’m not sad that it is cutting into my honeymoon. I didn’t want to marry Johnny. I didn’t want to become Mrs. Rothwell. Sitting in the back of the helicopter, I feel both grateful and eager to be heading far away from the craziness that has held me captive for so long. My father rescued me from the Rothwell mansion right on time. He couldn’t get me out of there fast enough. I thought I was going to be doomed forever—Johnny’s wife—but his prisoner in reality. 

The helicopter is flying over the mountains and I can see the destruction below us with my own eyes now. Wide pockets of fire incinerate the forest, devouring the beautiful green space that rebels call home. It won’t be long before the fire wastes it all. Soon there won’t be anything left. It breaks my heart. The helicopter veers right, making my stomach roll. The overhead thrumming of the blades is deafening. I’m sitting beside another rebel across from my father and a second rebel that I don’t recognize. My dad’s steel-blue eyes find me, and even in the dark, I can see the concern and agitation behind them. I draw in a deep breath, relieved that he came to rescue me in person. Any other man would have sent someone else to do the job, but my father would rather have died than to do that. It’s in his expression now—a dad’s determination and love.
Uncle John is flying the chopper and though he’s keeping it steady, I’m still feeling queasy. Maybe that’s because I’ve just been plucked out of my so-called life for the umpteenth time now. Hopefully this time I’ll get to stay with my family for good because it’s annoying to keep going back and forth like this. In one life I get freedom, in the other confinement. I’d rather a slice of freedom on any day.
“We’ve got company!” Uncle John shouts.
“At least we got a head start!” my father calls back.
I can see them now. The two black specs in the distance are twin Gunship Helicopters. They are used by law enforcement in combat situations and are equipped with AEP’s – Anti-Electronic Pulse magnets that can send us down pretty quick. We’re in a standard Squirrel helicopter—it’s light and acrobatic, but it has no weapon system on board.
“Find a place to land,” my father instructs, “before they shoot us down!”
The chopper veers sharply and I grab onto the side cable until we straighten out again. I don’t know how we’re going to land in this mess. We’re cutting through swells of thick black smoke and it’s wafting into the back of the chopper, choking us. My father reaches over and pulls the front of my sweater up over my mouth and nose.
“Brace yourselves!” Uncle John yells, taking us into a momentary nosedive. The landing is harsh but it isn’t technically a crash. Uncle John has flown just about everything and he’s a pro with emergency landings. Our chopper plummets towards the ground and swooshes upwards at the last minute. The maneuver catches an updraft and we hover for a few seconds before we ‘fall’ into park like a toy drone in the hands of an expert tech. As soon as the landing skids hit the ground, everyone bails. My father takes my arm and we jump out after everyone else, meeting Uncle John around the side.
“They’re here!” Uncle John shouts over the slowing rotors. The two Gunships have us in sight. We run in the direction of the trees as the helicopters come down to land next to ours. The tree branches whip me in the face. I readjust the hoodie on my sweater, losing my balance as my foot sinks into a patch of softer ground. My sandal snags an exposed root and I trip, falling face-first on the ground. Pulling my legs into my chest, I grab my foot and bite down on my lower lip as pain shoots up my leg.
“Darion,” my father’s hands are on my shoulders.
“I’m good,” I strain, getting to my feet. My hands are sticky. I realize that my foot is bleeding but it’s too dark to make out the wound. My father wraps his strong arms around me and picks me up. “Dad, I’m fine!” I protest, but it does no good. He must sense that something is wrong. He keeps moving with me in his arms and I lay my head on his shoulder. I’m slowing him down but he doesn’t care. Rustling footsteps up ahead quicken their pace. We’re following the sounds made by those ahead of us because it’s too dark to make out much more than shadows. At least we’re heading in the opposite direction of the forest fire, though I can still smell the smoke. My father weaves us around scrubs and bushes so easily. He knows this landscape like the back of his hand.
“Michael?” Uncle John calls. “Mike!”
“Over here!” my dad calls back.
They catch up and the two other rebels stand next to me as they adjust their gear. “Can you hear the waterfall?” Uncle John asks, adding, “The safe house is just over the next ridge.”
“I hear it.” I nod.
“Michael, we only have a day before that fire reaches us. Judging by the wind—”
“I know,” my father cuts him off. “Let’s just get there.” He sets me down and we start climbing. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Detectives have combed these woods for at least four months now. They’ve dug holes and set traps. Many rebels have already been caught. I want you to be careful.” He nudges me ahead of him and I grope my way around in the dark, pulling myself up the sloping hillside using every available branch and root. My foot is stinging. My toes are caked with mud and grass and I can barely move them.
My father climbs ahead of me, grabs the back of my sweater, and hauls me up on top of the ridge. We are about halfway up the mountain. The moon is full and the sky is like a black chalkboard—completely starless. Swelling clouds of smoke are slowly drifting towards the moon, reminding us that the fire is spreading and that we have to move if we want to survive.
“Do you see that space between the canopy layers over there?” he asks, pointing to the area in the distance.
“I see it.”
“It’s a small lake where all the streams converge. It’s the only lake this high up into the mountain. The safe house is just beyond it.”
We start down the other side of the ridge. My father is completely adept in this environment but I’m totally exhausted, and by the time we reach level ground I stumble and fall to my knees.
“I got you,” my father says, scooping me off the ground.
“Give her to me,” my uncle tells him. “Hand her over.”
I feel like a puppet as they pass me around. My uncle puts me over his shoulder. We start moving and my eyelids get heavy. It’s the lack of food, I think to myself as I give in and my eyes shut out the world.


She’s drained Michael.” I hear my uncle say. It takes a minute for my vision to adjust after I open my eyes. It’s dawn. The forest is dull and dim, but I can tell that it’s the start of a new day because orange beams of light are spearing through the canopy of leaves over my head.


“

“She needs to eat something,” my father says. “We have to get her inside.”
Inside. I turn my head towards a man-made cave opening. Camouflage netting is draped around the mouth in the rock. The cover is so good it would be impossible to see from overhead.
“We’re here Darion.” My uncle’s expression is tight, and I can tell that he’s worried. “You’re finally home.”
I sit up, rubbing my head. “Smells like something’s… burning?”
My father’s lips tug down into a frown. “The fire will reach us in a day or two, depending on the wind.”
A sense of foreboding overtakes me. Something feels wrong. I take a quick glance down at my arms and then pull my jeans up to inspect my legs. I have no puncture wound, no reason to suspect that I’ve been injected with a trace.
“What is it?” my uncle asks.
“They can’t just let me go—it can’t be this easy.”
“Easy?” He makes a face. “Glad you thought that was easy.”







What a terrific beginning Ann. This is a story I look forward to reading. Thank you being our guest and sharing the excerpt with us

Returning Guest Author JP McLean of BC.

The Scribbler is pleased to have one of our most popular authors back. JP McLean returns to talk about her books and the new covers. If you missed her first visit, follow this link. 







Thanks for inviting me to the South Branch Scribbler, Allan. Your support of me and the other authors you’ve featured over the years is commendable and much appreciated.
A Rebrand by Any Other Name
If you’ve ever wondered why publishers change the title of a book, here’s a case study.



The first book in what became The Gift Legacy began as a one-off titled Awakening. That book soon had two more to keep it company, Revelation and Redemption, and the one-off became a trilogy. The fourth book, Penance, put an early death to the trilogy notion and the series became what it remains today, The Gift Legacy.
If you aren’t familiar with the books, no one would blame you for thinking they might fall within the religious/spiritual genres. The books covers would even support that supposition.   
Hence the problem. These books, in fact, fit into the fantasy/thriller genres.   
It wasn’t immediately obvious to me that there was a problem. Sure, early on a few people wondered if the books were religious, but the feedback from most people was positive, glowing even. What author doesn’t like that kind of feedback?
However, as the books began to reach a wider audience, the “are these books religious?” voices grew much louder. About eighteen months ago, the ruckus reached a fever pitch and I was forced to stop and listen. I conceded that the naysayers were right, and the beautiful covers compounded the perception. In hindsight, I’m embarrassed to say it seems quite obvious.
Rebranding the books with new titles and covers was a difficult decision. It meant I risked losing all of the wonderful reviews that I’d collected on Amazon and reviews are an author’s lifeblood. There will never be a good time to rebrand, but with the final two books of the series written and ready to go, there will never be a better time. I took the plunge.
I feel like I’ve jumped off a cliff, and I suppose I have. I just hope the water below is not too cold … or too deep.





Thankfully, I’ve been handed some lifelines along the way. A good friend and author, Elinor Florence, was instrumental in helping me brainstorm new titles and my online blog family and social media connections helped tease out the best of them. And back in July, the design team at JD&J Designs began the process of designing new covers.
The first book in the series has now been launched and the second is on pre-order and I couldn’t be prouder of the final result. I hope you’ll agree.    
Awakening is now Secret Sky.
An intrepid young woman. An incredible gift. A terrible price to pay.
 
When Emelynn Taylor accepted a stranger’s gift, she couldn’t know it would hijack her life. It strikes without warning, strips her of gravity and sends her airborne. Vowing to tame her gift, Emelynn returns to the seaside home where it all began. Here, she finds a dangerous world hidden within our own that will plunge her into a fight for her life.   This is Chapter One: link: https://jpmcleanauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Secret-Sky-Ch1-for-website-preview.pdf     (**Note from the Scribbler - Kobo selected Secret Sky’s cover as one of their top ten covers for 2018 in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy Category. The winner is determined by popular vote.   Anyone can cast a vote by going to their website here: https://kobowritinglife.com/2018/11/23/the-kwl-cover-contest-2018-week-2-science-fiction-fantasy/ scrolling down to the bottom and clicking on the cover for Secret Sky. After you vote you’ll see the current tally.)  


   



Revelation is now Hidden Enemy
A forbidden book. A dangerous secret. A life in the balance.
Emelynn Taylor’s discovery of a forbidden book threatens to expose dangerous secrets. Two powerful factions clash: one ancient, one evil. And both of them want a piece of her. Not even her gift of flight will save her. Emelynn must form an uneasy partnership with a dangerous man and risk her gift and her future to protect her friends’ lives. 
This is Chapter One: link: https://jpmcleanauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Hidden-Enemy-Ch1-for-website-preview.pdf
 




Secret Sky links:
Amazon Kindle: https://mybook.to/SecretSkyKindle
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/secret-sky
iBook/Apple: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/secret-sky/id1441056564?mt=11
Barns & Noble/Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secret-sky-jp-mclean/1129809297
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secret-sky-jp-mclean/1129809297
 
Hidden Enemy links:
Amazon Kindle: https://mybook.to/HiddenEnemyKindle
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/hidden-enemy
iBook/Apple: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/hidden-enemy/id1441258918?mt=11
Barnes & Noble/Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hidden-enemy-jp-mclean/1129817861
 
JP McLean social media links are:
Website: https://jpmcleanauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JPMcLeanBooks
Twitter ID:  @jpmcleanauthor
Twitter Website: https://twitter.com/jpmcleanauthor      
Thank you JP for being our guest and sharing your exciting news. The new covers look fantastic.  

Guest Author Darlene Foster of Alberta

The Scribbler is honoured to have Darlene Foster, an award winning author, as our guest this week. She has agreed to a 4Q interview and offered to share an excerpt from Amanda in New Mexico-Ghosts in the Wind, the sixth book in the Amanda Travels series

Brought up in southern Alberta, Darlene Foster dreamt of writing stories, travelling the world and meeting interesting people. It’s no surprise that she’s now an award-winning author of short stories, travel articles and the exciting Amanda Travels series featuring spunky 12-year-old Amanda Ross who loves to travel to unique places. Readers of all ages enjoy travelling with Amanda as she unravels one mystery after another. When she isn't travelling herself, Darlene divides her time between the west coast of Canada and the Costa Blanca, Spain with her husband and entertaining dog, Dot. She believes everyone is capable of making their dreams come true.





4Q: For those unfamiliar with your heroine, Amanda Ross, tell us about her.



DF: Amanda Jane Ross is a twelve-year-old girl from Calgary, Alberta. She lives with her mom and dad, both accountants and partners in an accounting firm. They work long hours. Her life is pretty ordinary. An only child, she is bored and lonely. She enjoys cooking, often prepares the meals at home, loves to read and has a great imagination. She wishes for travel and excitement on her twelfth birthday as she blows out all the candles on her cake. The next day she receives tickets in the mail to visit her aunt and uncle who work in the United Arab Emirates. That is when her life changes. In the UAE she makes friends with an English girl, Leah, and has an adventure of a lifetime. Her curious nature and eagerness to help people tends to get her in trouble.



4Q: Please tell us about The Amanda Ross Traveling Series.


DF: In the UAE, Amanda purchases a mysterious perfume flask, tries to help a beautiful princess, befriends a loyal camel and is chased across a dangerous desert by bounty hunters. After this exciting experience, Amanda is eager to travel and see more of the world. She jumps at the chance to meet Leah in Spain, where they attempt to help a young Spanish girl escape the clutches of a mean horse thief. Leah invites Amanda to visit her in England, where they get lost in a maze, hide in an underground tunnel and ride the London Eye while searching for a missing vintage novel. When Leah visits Amanda in Alberta, they enjoy the Calgary Stampede, Head-Smashed-in Buffalo Jump, and an amazing dinosaur museum, while trying to decipher the mysterious writing on a stone and keep it from getting into the wrong hands. Amanda and Leah go on a river cruise down the Danube with their families. Along the way, she meets a homeless young musician who gives her a valuable violin for safe keeping which turns out to be more difficult than she thought. Wherever Amanda travels, she learns about the history and culture, meets interesting people and encounters mystery and intrigue.






4Q: Please share a childhood anecdote or memory with our readers.


DF: I have many fond memories of my maternal grandmother. I was her first grandchild and I know she loved all of us, but she always made me feel special. She lived in the city, about one hour from our farm, and I loved to stay with her whenever I could. On one visit, Grandma took me downtown shopping. We went to Woolworth’s where I found the most amazing colouring book, filled with pictures of children from all over the world wearing the traditional dress of their country. I had just enough spending money to purchase it. I couldn’t wait to colour the lederhosen, kimonos, flamingo dresses, wooden shoes and sombreros. Laden with packages, we took the bus home. When we got to Grandma’s place, I eagerly searched for my book in amongst the bags, but it wasn’t there. I was devastated. The next day my dear grandmother took me back downtown on the bus and bought me the last International Children colouring book on the shelf. I treasured that book and dreamt of visiting all those fascinating places as I coloured the pages.



4Q: Every author has their favorite spot to write, they either listen to music or must have complete quiet, prefer a Mac over a PC. What’s the ideal place and setting for you Darlene?


DF: Like Virginia Woolf, I simply need a room of my own to write. We converted the second bedroom in our small house in Spain into my office where I can close the door and write to my heart’s content on my laptop. I don’t need complete quiet but I can’t have loud noises either. I find once I’m really into my story, I can block out most noises. If it is nice outside, and it usually is in Spain, I will often take a notebook and pen, sit on my terrace and scribble down a chapter or two to be typed up and polished later. I also like writing longhand while I travel - trains, planes, automobiles or boats, it doesn’t matter. I feel inspired while travelling and there are few interruptions. 




Thanks for inviting me to be a guest on your blog, Allan.






An Excerpt from Amanda in New Mexico-Ghosts in the Wind

BlurbAmanda Ross is on a school trip to Taos, New Mexico with several of her fellow creative students. Join Amanda, Cleo and their funny friend, Caleb, as they visit an ancient and beautiful landscape where a traditional hacienda, an ancient pueblo, and a haunted and spooky hotel all hold secrets to a wild and violent past. Does Cleo really see ghosts? Can Amanda escape the eerie wind that follows her everywhere? Perhaps the Day of the Dead will reveal the mysteries of Taos in this latest adventure of Amanda's travels.



Excerpt:

Amanda stepped outside. She looked around for Caleb, but he was nowhere to be seen. The wind got colder and stronger. She zipped up her jacket and pulled the hood over her head, glad she’d listened to Ms. Bowler’s advice. She took pictures of the San Geronimo church and then continued on to a ruin tucked behind houses. Crumbling gravestones and weathered wooden crosses were scattered around the remainder of a damaged brick bell tower. Among the weeds lay broken gravestones and crosses that had fallen over. Amanda felt a sudden sadness wash over her. She pulled out her map and guide. It explained that the ruin was the original San Geronimo church, destroyed by the soldiers in retaliation for Governor Bent’s murder. Only the battered bell tower remained standing. The graves belonged to the many who lost their lives in the fight. The sun went behind a cloud. Tall grass leaped around the crosses as the wind whistled a mournful tune. Amanda shuddered. A harsh breeze pushed her forward. Looking up at the sky, Amanda felt the wind push her again and she tripped over a rock. She stumbled hard into the low adobe brick wall surrounding the cemetery. Another shove sent her right over the fence. Her head hit a fallen brick. She saw stars before everything went black.





Thank you for being our guest Darlene. For you readers that are curious to know more about Darlene and her novels, please follow the links below.




www.darlenefoster.ca

https://darlenefoster.wordpress.com/


https://www.facebook.com/DarleneFosterWriter/

https://twitter.com/supermegawoman

https://www.amazon.com/Darlene-Foster/


Amazon buy link https://www.amazon.com/Amanda-New-Mexico-Ghosts-Travels-ebook/dp/B01MT8LXAR/

Guest Artisit Andy Gill of Moncton, NB.

I met Andy many years ago when we both worked for a jewellery manufacturing company. He was doing the jewellery designs which were quite amazing. Now he works on portraits of superheroes, famous people and animals. His work is scattered all over North America and as far as Europe with buyers wanting to own his life-like drawings. He has agreed to participate in a 4Q Interview and allow us to show his work.

(All sketches shown here are the intellectual property of the artist, used with permission. They are not allowed to be copied, shared or used without the artist's permission)




4Q: When did you start drawing Andy?
AG: I started very young, around age 3 or 4.




4Q: How do you decide which drawing you are going to do when you stare at the blank page? Do you accept commissions?
AG: I do the eyes first. Mostly I have to feel the subject, then see it in my head. Yes I accept commissions.




4Q: Please share a childhood memory or anecdote.
AG: Drawing war tanks on 8.5×11 paper. Green Sherman tanks and Blue Tiger tanks...hours and hours of drawing WW2 battle tanks.





4Q: Tell us about your favorite spot to work and the type of material you use for your drawings.
AG: My antique illustration table, Prismacolor Premier color pencil, on Stonehenge print stock.




Thank you for being our guest this week Andy.





For those of you wanting more information on Andy, check out this link.
https://www.facebook.com/AndyGill1964/