Elaine Cougler is the award-winning author of historical novels about the lives of settlers in the Thirteen Colonies who remained loyal to Britain during the American Revolution. She uses the backdrop of the conflict for page-turning fictional tales where the main characters face torn loyalties, danger, and personal conflicts. Her Loyalist trilogy comprises The Loyalist’s Wife, The Loyalist’s Luck and The Loyalist Legacy, all available on Amazon, Kobo, and Audible. Her latest book is The Loyalist’s Daughter, the prequel to her Loyalist trilogy.
Elaine also wrote the Amazon #1 Bestseller The Man Behind the Marathons: How Ron Calhoun Helped Terry Fox and Other Heroes Make Millions for Charity. Byron native, Ronald G. Calhoun, was the chair of the Canadian Cancer Society team who managed the Marathon of Hope, Terry Fox’s run in 1980. Ron also managed the Jesse’s Journey walk across Ontario and later across Canada, as well as Steve Fonyo’s Journey for Lives and the blind Ken McColm’s Incredible Journey across Canada. Ron’s honours are many and well deserved. Elaine is delighted and humbled to be the author of this important book, a different kind of Canadian history.
Elaine leads writing workshops and speaks about her books to many groups. Through her website she blogs about the writing and reading world and more. She lives in Ontario with her husband. They have two grown children.
Links:
Elaine can be found on YouTube and LinkedIn and through the following links: @ElaineCougler www.elainecougler.com http://www.facebook.com/ElaineCouglerAuthor
There are books upon books that I have read and enjoyed over the growing number of my reading years, and I am thankful for them. Then there are a select few that have moved my heart, my brain, indeed my whole being throughout the reading of them and for years afterwards. Once Upon a Wardrobeis one such book.
Building on C.S. Lewis, his brother and his books, Patti Callaghan’s story of a young student and her ailing brother searching for answers to their questions about The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe presents a new discovery with every page turn.
I loved it. I just wanted to lose myself in Callaghan’s creation. And for long periods I did. These characters are so believable yet so easily recognizable as utterly unique that I wonder just how it is that I can identify with Megs, a math whiz, and her little brother, George, so easily.
This is a story to carry into that secret part of you where ideas blend and wonder predominates. It is a story that will make you think and feel and smile and long for it to go on and on. It is a story that will make you weep. I must go read it again! (first published on Goodreads)
Westfield Heritage Village first opened to the public in 1964. It was the culmination of the work of two teachers who purchased 30 acres of Ontario farmland near Rockton, Ontario and started collecting historic buildings. They didn’t grow corn or soybeans or wheat or any other modern crops. They laid out a collection of antique buildings in the form that our ancestors might have used when they first came here a couple of hundred years ago or more. Unlike our ancestors they planted trees rather than clearing the land of huge virgin forests. And they started Westfield Heritage Village.
Here is the gift shop which is off to the left as you enter the huge plot of land which is much larger than 30 acres today. We saved that for the end of our tour.
We walked on. The day was pleasantly warm with cool breezes around every corner. Several of the buildings were staffed with volunteers and we were impressed with their knowledge and their enthusiasm for the facility. Not all of the buildings were open as the fear of Covid has slowed the return of volunteers but hopefully the village will soon be up to full volunteer staff.
The volunteer in this building explained that the large room we were in basically was where the family lived. A stairway upstairs and a couple of side rooms completed the home.
We sat on a bench in this lovely bandstand/meeting place and waited for our tour to begin. Our forefathers didn’t spend a lot of time cutting grass and the grass in the village was mostly ‘au naturel’.
This drug store looked like Dr. Beattie would be seeing patients and dispensing medicines if we just opened the door. I wondered if this was a fresh build as it looked pretty new.
The most popular attraction was the steam engine, the pride of the Toronto, Hamilton and Buffalo railroad. I had not heard of that one but know a lot about the Grand Trunk Railway which my husband’s great grandfather is reputed to have been part of. I must learn more details about that!
This is the old Jerseyville Station with just enough yards of track laid to accommodate the engine, the coal car and a caboose to give us the flavour.
Check out the split rail fencing and the lovely perennial flowers and blossoming trees our pioneers would have treasured.
I loved this street scene. Can’t you just see the mothers tugging their little ones along to the Dry Goods store and the fathers rushing into the hardware store to look over the ever increasing collection of tools and inventions coming on the ships from the old countries or from the newly named United States of America?
And speaking of mothers–their faces would be red and their cotton sleeves rolled up as they lifted the burners and added more wood to the stove.
One of the last places we went was into the village store. We were met by two period-dressed volunteers who were as knowledgeable as they were historical. My husband took this amazing photo showing all the great things on the shelves. He was most interested in the penny candy, I think!
As we headed for the parking lot we passed the gift shop again but opted not to go in. All that walking was reminding us that our plush car seats were waiting for us. I’m kind of sorry about that decision. I should have checked out to see if they had any good historical books there or if they would like some of my historical fiction books on their shelves. Oh well, another time. We drifted off for home, well satisfied with our Sunday afternoon.
May 21, 2022 was opening day for one of the most interesting forts in our Canadian history, Fort Henry, often referred to as Old Fort Henry. My constant travelling companion and I had been there before but were excited to have another look.
The Fort sits beside the Cataraqui River which flows into the mighty St. Lawrence River beside the since-built city of Kingston, Ontario. Here one of the Fort towers (with the red roof) keeps watch opposite the modern city on its perimeters.
The whole area was redolent with purple, white and mauve lilacs. I so wanted to pick a bouquet! Here the Cataraqui flows into the St. Lawrence. (And there’s another Fort tower!)
The garrison stores housed the Fort’s gift shop and I was anxious to see what historical books they might have. Unfortunately, most of the books were yellowed with age and hard to peruse on the very bottom shelf. I had to bend over and try to pull them from the shelves. I soon found my effort was not worth it. That was a disappointment partly because these shops often want to offer my four Loyalist books for sale but also because I saw nothing that would help me with my research for a new Loyalist book (series?) I’m working on.
The Fort itself was manned by acting soldiers in period dress, clicking their heels as they marched and firing off the cannons every so often. Here are two photos of those cannons and battlements.
We had a knowledgeable and pleasant tour guide who clicked his heels and marched us from one spot to the next with obvious pleasure. He told us that the lowest ranks wore red uniforms so that they would be easily spotted in the woods if they decided to run off from their soldierly duties. He was dressed in officers’ clothing which was much less obtrusive but still featured red on his hat.
Obviously this soldier on guard duty was of a lower rank!
The Fort does not have great towers or lookouts because it is built on such high ground along the edge of the St. Lawrence itself. Apparently when the Americans came across the St. Lawrence to have a look they decided that it was virtually impregnable and they would forgo trying to attack Fort Henry.
I was impressed by the clever things the British had built into the Fort as protection. The drawbridge had to be destroyed by going underneath it and loosening the whole thing, a tricky and time-consuming process. To keep the aggressors out, a special kind of ammunition could be fired around the corners and off the curved walls while an enemy might be trying to get across the drawbridge. The band played for us here.
This image shows the sheer size of the enclosed area and, of course, we watched the cannon firing. Not many people there on this first day of the season.
So why did we tour Fort Henry again? I wanted to refresh my memory for my new historical novel I am researching. It will feature United Empire Loyalists further east in Canada than my Loyalist trilogy did. Those three books centre on the Niagara area over into central Ontario, and the prequel goes back to prerevolutionary Boston. There is a wealth of material about those Loyalists who fled Boston during and just after the end of the American Revolutionary War.
While Fort Henry never saw battle it did house a number of political prisoners during World War I. Our guide told us that many of those were Ukrainians, “targeted because Ukraine was then split between Russia (an ally) and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, an enemy of the British Empire.” [From an article written for the Kingston Whig-Standard by Lubomyr Luciuk, professor of political geography at the Royal Military College of Canada, now near Fort Henry. Click to read the entire article.] Interesting how politics and world opinion change!
We came away from Fort Henry duly impressed by the fortification itself and by the knowledge and efficiency of the summer workers acting as tour guides. Here is the map from the Fort Henry National Historic Site situated on the St. Lawrence River at present-day Kingston. In 1812, it would have been much different but never forget that just across the river were those Americans, hungry for land and full of the pride in their new United States of America which they had wrested from England a little over thirty years earlier.
I can hardly wait to broaden my research further east, especially to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Keeping Canadian history alive and telling great historical fiction stories are so important and so interesting!
I have often called myself a flag-waving Canadian; hence, my delight at offering this opportunity to the writers among you whose family stories fit into this niche. I am seeking contributions for an anthology to be published in 2023 in time for the July 1 Canada Day celebrations.
The book length publication will feature unique and true stories of people who escaped their homeland and settled in Canada as a result of the Second World War or because of other warring troubles in their home countries. The publication will show that our country is made up of amazingly strong people who escaped something bad and created something good.
The submissions may be written by the participant or by relatives or friends of the participants. This is a chance to shine the light on true family stories which may not ever have been told in a formal way.
Submissions should be fully edited short stories, book chapters, short novellas or narrative poems written by the person submitting about people who ended up in Canada.
Submission Process:
You may query the editor and publisher, Elaine Cougler (Peache House Press), with your idea before submitting your entry, or simply submit the entry.
Entries must be submitted in print form and Word or .pdf form on or before November 1, 2022, to: Elaine Cougler (Peache House Press)
21-500 Lakeview Drive,
Woodstock ON N4T1W4.
Entries may include a short bio, contact link and/or one social media link. Please use a short link created by a company such as Bitly.com.
The editor will contact you with any editing issues or other questions. These must be resolved by January 31, 2023.
You will receive an email indicating acceptance of your final submission for the anthology.
The proposed publication date is May 31, 2023, in time for the Canada Day celebrations.
You’re writing away furiously on your new book. The important thing is to get it finished before you start marketing, right? WRONG The most important job you have is to build the buzz for your new book. Here are 14 ways to do that from conception, to completion and beyond.
I made this graphic on Canva about 3 months before my book launch. I didn’t have the cover yet. I didn’t even have the book finished and I certainly didn’t have all the book decisions made. But I did have the title. This graphic was my way of announcing it to my blog list and to my newsletter list. The point is to make some noise so that people know what’s coming.
With your cover designer work out the colour scheme, artwork, fonts, back cover makeup and setup.
Talk to people about what you’re doing and get their ideas. This can be for your title, your colour scheme, or any story issues that you’re wondering about. I asked one of my excellent beta readers her opinion on my very rough copy where I was using a framing technique that was not working for me. She helped me see that device wasn’t really working and I ditched the opening prologue. I also got that wonderful title you see above by chatting with a friend about the problem. She mentioned an old hymn with the line “This is my story, this is my song.” Our mutual church backgrounds clicked and I immediately started singing that hymn. I was ecstatic. I cut out a few words and ended up with the title you see. It ties in perfectly with my lifelong affair with music and writing.
Work with your cover designer, using her expertise but adding your personal flair if possible. Remember she knows the best way to catch the reader’s eye but you know what will tie in perfectly with your written words. This is one of the beautiful things of self-publishing. Your cover designer should give you multiple formats. I do a Kobo book, a Kindle book, a print book and, with most of my books, an audio book. My designer gives me the proper formatting for each cover.
Plan how to launch your new book. For the first time since Covid wreaked havoc with our world, I’ll be having an in-person launch in the community where I was raised and which figures so much in the book itself. Above is the Canva graphic I made to put up on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and in my newsletters and on-point emails.
I included this graphic in my latest newsletter to all my subscribers, along with a few words about the connection of the book to the location of the launch. I also reminded people they could pre-order on Kindle and Kobo and gave them the date the book would be delivered to their devices. Quite a number of subscribers connected with me with their lovely comments.
I asked two well-respected writers for back cover quotations and they acquiesced. People are very helpful in the writing community!
I updated both my Speaker Sheet and my Media Sheet to reflect the new book and made them downloadable from my website. Copies will be available at the book launch.
I planned the venue, the participants, the food, the Covid possibilities, chose my MC, made up a program, rented the hall and tried to think of all eventualities.
Then I continued advertising. I culled my personal family emails from my address book and sent them all invitations. I don’t usually do this but this particular book concerns them as it is the story of the first 20 years of my life, growing up in a rural community in the fifties and sixties. They are part of my story and my song. Did I mention I am one of thirteen children? I am!!!
Finally I sent the invitation to other people on my personal email list whom I knew would be interested.
I decided just which part of the book I would read at the launch. It’s a story of an escapade my brother, Wayne, and I had one night when we were teenagers.
I made a new Canva graphic with all of my books and three author pictures on it. I put it on social media. Oh, I forgot. During all the time I was working on this new book, I gave away free 100 copies of the e-book of my first book, The Loyalist’s Wife. I wanted that to encourage people to read about my books. Maybe they would buy the rest of the trilogy and the prequel.
Try looking up one of my books on Amazon, Kindle, Kobo or Audible. If you haven’t read them, now’s your chance. If you have read them please write a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Reviews are like gold to an author!
We’ve set the date for my first in-person book launch since Covid started about two years ago!
That’s a huge thrill, obviously, but there are many rewarding and exciting times during the writing of a book. Here are a few of mine:
Setting up my Word for the new book for the first time with proper margins, headers, title page, pagination. I love the feeling of putting the book title and my name as the author in here.
Typing the first sentence. Of course I’ll do this over and over until I’m delighted with it but putting those first words on paper says I’m really doing it. “I had new jammies. Mommy finished them just in time for Christmas.” This one says so much about voice, setting, tone, point of view and overall story.
Finding the perfect resource and building the story around it. I found the picture on the cover in an album Mom had made specially for me with loads of family pictures that were of my growing up years. She did the same for all of my siblings. I have thirteen. That photo reminds me of how Mom could sew, how she braided my hair for the first eleven years of my life and how she always made sure all of her kids were dressed well.
Telling the story of my brother Ross riding wild-eyed Maudie around our large farm garden, over and over, until she was used to him on her bare back. That brought Ross back to me. I had the same feelings for many of the stories I tell in this new book. I finally realize that growing up in the fifties and sixties as part of a burgeoning farming community has made me who I am. [wiping off a little tear]
Figuring out the form the book would ultimately take. I did use a framing device at first but half way through the writing just decided to let that little girl tell the story throughout. Of course I let her grow up! That rewrite was really fun because I knew where I was going and how it would all play out.
Deciding to include not only photos of the times but also family recipes and the story of how I wrote one of my songs, Doin’ the Christmas Thing. They really helped me put the heart in the book.
Putting the final title on the document. At the first book launch, I’ll be telling the story of how a lovely friend who cleans my house helped me here. That was one of the biggest thrills of this whole journey.
The launch will be April 24, 2022. More news and full details will be in next week’s newsletter. (sign up box at left)
For a writer there are many exciting days but none is quite so appealing as the day she gets to see her final cover. Late yesterday, I got to see mine. Weeks of work by my cover designer, Sharon Clare at Clarity Book Cover Designs, culminated in me opening her e-mail to take a look at the latest rendition.
I was thrilled!
Sharon caught the essence of the story in the old schoolhouse and the ten-year-old girl wearing a Mom-sewed dress. Piano keys and floating notes suggest that music was and is such a foundation in my life. The straight pen takes us back to first learning to write with pen and ink at a time when ballpoint pens were shunned and every wooden desk had a round slot for a glass inkwell, perfect for dipping the pen.
And that’s me in the braids. I had them until I was eleven. That girl has a lot of stories to tell of growing up with nine brothers and three sisters on a dairy farm at a time when the world was expanding as it recovered from World War II. The fifties and sixties seemed to bridge the time of children ‘being seen and not heard’ and the awakening of our world, bigger and better than ever before.
On a wintry night a year ago I took this unique photo and it’s one of my favourites. The white snow hugging the black branches lit by the streetlight in the distance shows that there’s more than one way for a tree to be gorgeous. It’s one of the reasons Canada’s seasons are such a joy.
Just as it is, with no changes brought about by those changing seasons, this tree would be spectacular but, as we all know, it can be so much more. It can stand against a beautiful blue sky lit by shafts of sunlight streaming through the clouds, its black branches tipped by little red seed pods just waiting to burst. It can be dressed in gorgeous green garb that almost hides its limbs completely. Or later that green can morph into orange or red or even yellow as autumn falls over the land. And then the leaves will skitter down and the skeleton will face winter once more.
This is a little like the writer’s job.
We look at the bare facts and see there is something intriguing there. The boy ran across the street after his dog. Why is he chasing his dog? How fast are they going? Is there any sound? From the boy or the dog? What is ahead of the dog? Or behind the boy? Can the writer smell anything? Hear anything?
In my novel The Loyalist Legacy, I used a story my father had told my cousin about some family history. He said his ancestor had invited a native woman inside her cabin and they left the papoose on the veranda outside and he met a bad end. Here is what I did with that story:
Catherine was just about to answer when a terrible cry broke their peace. She and Kiwidinok raced to the porch. A huge yellow cat of an animal crouched beside the wailing baby. It rested a giant paw on the tiny laced-in infant as though not at all sure what it had discovered. Kiwidinok howled and threw herself toward her wailing child but Catherine grabbed her and together they stared at the spiked ears with the telltale black tufts pointing straight up and the long mustard fur darkly spotted. The lynx looked toward the women but didn’t move its paw.
She thought of her rifle, as the animal’s eyes bore into her own in a staring contest the like of which she’d never before experienced. Her fingers tightened on Kiwidinok’s arm, pulling her back ever so slowly. “Shh,” she whispered, thinking to remove the threat and mollify the big cat.
But even though Kiwidinok retreated with her, the screaming went on, both hers and the child’s. Catherine willed calm into those cream and black eyes and forced deep breaths up from her own churning insides. That cat could be on them in the blink of an eye and then how could they help the child? She forced a smile.
And slipped inside. She grabbed the rifle, jerked it down, and shoved Kiwidinok aside. As she sighted along the barrel, the lynx’s eyes narrowed; it turned back to the whimpering baby. Her finger pulled the cold metal trigger but just as the shot fired a crushing blow smashed her left shoulder. She missed. Kiwidinok’s hand rested in mid air. “I thought…the baby.” The woman had destroyed her aim.
The lynx tore the child off its board and leaped off the end of the porch into the long grass around the corner of the cabin. Catherine grabbed up her rifle that had fallen and again pushed past Kiwidinok as she darted inside for bullets, knowing full well she couldn’t stop the lynx now. Outside, she raced after Kiwidinok who was already staggering around the corner.
At the front of the house they stopped and listened. Silence. They crept to the roadway. Nothing. Across the dusty strip. Still listening. Still nothing. Kiwidinok straggled along beside her, quiet at last, as she edged into the woods across the road. An eerie feeling gnawed at her innards. Was someone watching her? Or something?
Kiwidinok caught up to her. Gone was the calm and composed person who had sat across from her sipping tea just moments ago. Her hair tumbled about her face, frowsy and frazzled, her arms criss-crossed her breast, and her hands beat a soft tattoo on her arms. The worst was her eyes. Always beautiful, black, and brimming with joy, they exuded terror. Catherine pushed ahead.
She could see where the animal had dragged its find in the long grass. She dropped to study the ground. Was that blood? She stepped over it quickly, blocking Kiwidinok’s view. Not much farther along, she raised her arm and stopped. A soft crunching sound came from just up ahead in the trees. Her companion heard it, too, but this time kept quiet. They stepped closer, listening and looking.
Catherine checked the rifle but looked up when Kiwidinok strangled a sound. Ahead, partially hidden by the dead bottom branches of a tall pine, the lynx lay on the ground eating. She moved closer. The animal’s wide jaws opened to reveal for a second its terrible bloodied teeth before red paws stuffed the gaping maw once more. Kiwidinok slumped against her and she eased her to the ground.
The gun on her shoulder, she sighted once more, forced concentration, thought of Lucy’s instructive words, didn’t even breathe. This time she’d kill the beast. The trigger moved with a deadly silence until the sound erupted and the head of the lynx split into red bits flying up and floating down to the ground to settle on the already bloodied blanket of the tiny baby.
Kiwidinok groaned. Catherine knelt down and sat on the ground, cushioned by the coppery pine needles, and cradled the woman in her arms. She heard shouts from afar and knew that Migisi and the children had returned. She did not move.
Migisi crashed toward them through the woods, thankfully without the children, and when he reached them, she saw realization flood his features until he knelt over his wife and Catherine was no longer witness to his absolute despair. She pulled away, stood, walked a few steps closer to her kill. Her feet stopped, though, and she turned away. With the rifle lifeless in her hand, she limped home.
From The Loyalist Legacy by Elaine Cougler
That story of my father’s was the seed for this upsetting scene and I think it did its work in this part of the book. I stripped away all else and showed the tragedy. The reader is totally on the native mother’s side. I will never again look at a picture of a lynx or the real thing without thinking of this story and the writer in me hopes you won’t either.
Writing has been part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. Those teacher sheets we had to fill in with the right words and then colour, those old blackboards filled with white chalk words I couldn’t even read, and those Dick and Jane story words we copied over and over–they were the beginnings of my love of language. Learning to print sentences into exercise books to form a story was magical.
In those days, though, we students did exactly what we were told. No one expected us to teach ourselves by looking up a topic on our computer; in fact, the word computer meant a person who sat and worked out arithmetic problems in their heads or on paper. Today a computer is a magical machine that, given the right instructions, does the work for us. And most of us have more than one at our disposal. (I have a smart phone, an iPad, a MacBook Pro and a desktop computer.)
My work habits subtly shifted to being the epitome of that 4-H motto from years ago: Learn to do by doing. In other words, teach yourself. And I have done that for years. I taught myself how to cook, sew, embroider, quilt, ski, dive, decorate, paint, make jewelry, and probably a whole lot more. And while I did have lots of music lessons and skating lessons and all sorts of other lessons, I got used to pushing the envelope myself and so did everyone I knew.
Those habits were most useful when I decided to write actual books and take the path to being an author. I started my novel-writing journey with a book from a bookstore–How to Write and Sell Your First Novel. Oh, I knew how to write correct English and I was a lifelong reader, but I didn’t know silly things like what should my margins be? how long was a chapter? when should I write in third person and when in first?
In the same manner and for the same reasons I sought out writers and writers’ groups. When I had learned what I needed from each I moved on to the next, always going further afield to seek out what I needed. My first critique group met in my house and was made up of people who also said they wanted to improve their writing. From there I sourced out a group in a neighbouring town and then one in a city thirty miles away, always searching for more and better information.
Next I sourced out conferences–I even flew across Canada to one in Vancouver. One crucial thing I did at every event was speak to the presenters after each session. I got on their lists and they were on mine. I went to a cross-border conference in Niagara Falls. That was pivotal. Several people were there from the Toronto area, both attendees and presenters, and I learned about the Writers Community of Durham Region. At the time it met once a month for a Saturday morning breakfast event with terrific speakers and with many published writers as part of the membership. I drove the hour and a half to each meeting and loved it. I still connect with many of those I met there; in fact, my last blog post interview was of writer Purabi Sinha Das whom I met at WCDR.
It’s Okay To Get Help
Another learning experience I had along my journey was a weekly writing course led by Brian Henry of Quick Brown Fox. (Brian puts out a yearly calendar filled with writing contests for writers to enter. Fabulous!) At Brian’s Oakville course, we work-shopped everyone’s writing and made long-time friends. Watching each of those folks bring their own books to publication has been almost as much fun as moving my own along. I still chat with many of those classmates on social media and through email. One of them, Sharon at claritybookcoverdesigns.com, is a gifted author, cover designer and interior layout person, whose skills I’ve used several times.
Today I use people like Sharon for their abilities to save myself having to learn yet another necessary skill. Even more important is my decision to pay skilled computer people to do things I no longer can do because the difficulty level just keeps escalating. For instance, I used to be a whiz at WordPress. No more. For a few weeks I could not find my images on WordPress, search though I might both in the program itself and on the help forums online. After spending hours and getting nowhere I paid someone to fix the problem. They did it in an hour or so. Yes, it cost me money but I was spared the agony of defeat and you can see that I have images in this post. Yay!
This is the third time I’ve had to pay for that type of help and I will do it again. It’s a matter of spending my time doing what I love and paying someone else to do what I can’t do or don’t want to do. It’s one of those life lessons. It took me a while but I’m glad I learned it. I hope you do, too!
One of the interesting parts of being a writer is that I come in contact with loads of others who are following the same path. Purabi Sinha Dasis a lovely, interesting writer I met during my time as a member of the Writers’ Community of Durham Region and I am so glad I did.
Purabi, originally from India and now settled in Canada, writes literary fiction, poetry and personal essays. Her short stories and poems published in literary journals and community newspapers are inspired by her travels, life in general and growing years in a small town in Bihar, now in Jharkhand.
Purabi has a BA with Honours in English literature from Ranchi university, India. She has been a Marketing Specialist, Human Resources Manager, mentor to high school and university students, travelled around the world and survived an earthquake. Purabi’s great passion is to bring joy to people through her stories, poems and articles in which sometimes you may even find a glimmer of magical realism.
In her debut collection of essays – What will it be this time – Purabi takes the reader on a journey through her growing years in India and confirms an immigrant’s life in a new country while daunting can also be exhilarating. Moonlight – The Journey Begins is Purabi’s first novel and I caught up with her for an interview about her journeys, both in writing and in life.
Purabi Sinha Das Author Interview
Why did you choose Chandni’s story for your novel? Does it have any personal links to your own history?
Moonlight – The Journey Begins is fiction. All characters and places are products of my imagination. However, as we know every fiction is inspired by something, my book was inspired by my great-grandmother’s purple wedding sari that had been specially made for a nine-year-old girl. Yes, she was a child-bride. I remember, when I was young, I used to try to wrap it around me because I loved the colour and gold motifs on it. My mother must have known about my feelings although I did not articulate them and gave it to me to keep. My paternal grandparents passed away before I was born so to possess this link with one of them is beyond magical.
How old were you when you came to Canada? Tell us some of the struggles you experienced. Did those struggles affect your writing?
I was in my early twenties when my husband and I immigrated to Canada. Those early years, when I look back, seemed to be filled with an equal measure of excitement and homesickness. Somehow, my upbringing – protective as it was – could not deter me from embracing life in a strange country with arms wide open.
There were moments of frustration, I must admit. I can’t call this struggle; rather, shock and disappointment to learn that Canadians knew very little about India. In the Indian school syllabus world geography plays an important role which gave me an advantage – I had a fairly good knowledge about the various provinces of Canada, their natural resources, fruits and vegetables, and the names of major cities.
The sub-continent of India is diverse, divided into twenty-eight states with as many dialects, food, clothing, mannerisms, customs and traditions. Even facial features of people differ from state to state. When I was asked where I was from it was easy to respond. But when my child, born and brought up in Canada, was asked the same question it made me think. Children of immigrant parents from the Indian diaspora face this dilemma; the more I saw it happening the greater grew my resolve to tell stories from the Indian point of view to the people of Canada. My hope is that my writings will open a window for children of immigrant parents from India into their heritage and roots; and, they will feel proud to belong to two great nations of the world.
Compare your life in India to your life in Canada. What have you lost and what have you gained?
I was raised in a culture where girls were not supposed to work (it’s changing now) for a living although education was a must. This influenced my decision to get a job as soon as it was possible upon arriving in Canada.
In India, a family lives under the same roof until children marry and move away. We were four siblings living with our parents in a sprawling house with a number of gardens that had shady trees, rose bushes and other flowering shrubs, a deep well and vegetables patches. I miss the togetherness of family here.
Life in India was certainly different. Let me elaborate. I did not know how to cook, clean a house, wash clothes having never done them growing up. Yet, my husband and I adapted to a new lifestyle quickly in Canada taking each day as it came. How was that possible? I have a sneaking feeling that building life in a new country and making our own decisions, even with the knowledge they may not always be right, made us feel grown-up. The first time I cashed a cheque in a Toronto bank was a red-letter day for me. I had never even entered a bank in my life, never signed a cheque. Our parents did everything. My husband, who with a similar background but being male enjoyed far greater privileges – something which I craved for – and I, raised a family in Canada without the comforting presence of parents.
During those early years while building a home for us and our family – as if for the first time – I noticed how men and women in Canada worked at all kinds of jobs. It felt liberating. Now, here’s dignity of labour, I told myself.
What is your writing regimen? How did you organize yourself to complete this book?
My day starts quite early in order to fit in a walk, run, meditation followed by emails, social media, telephone calls. Afternoons are best for writing.
I had been working on this book for several years; starting with hastily scribbled notes on pieces of paper and when the pages became increasingly difficult to file, writing in a spiral notebook. I wrote short segments like vignettes, workshopped them among my peers and noted the interest the story generated which convinced me that I was on to something. But life happened and it was shelved.
Then I quit my job in 2015 chief reason being this book was calling me and I had to follow the path wherever it led. In the meantime, I wrote short stories, poems and personal essays always returning to the 10th. or was it 15th. draft of Moonlight – the Journey Begins. It wasn’t until the summer of 2020 during the height of the pandemic that I felt the story was ready for the world.
I noticed the rather seamless movement from Chandni’s point of view to her husband’s point of view. Was that done intentionally, with no break between paragraphs to indicate the POV change?
One reason is I wanted to get more than one reaction to what is being done and what is being said. Also, to show the contrast in their personality, culture and ideology this had to be done right away. I wanted the reader to get to know them through Chandni and her husband’s interactions with each other. However, since Chandni is the main protagonist, I have allowed a scene to end with her thoughts or observation ensuring she is central to each scene.
As I read this book, I was reminded of other books about India, but they are mostly about other nationalities. How do you think Britain’s colonization of India for so many years affected India’s stories? Can you envision what might have been without that outside influence?
Stories influenced by Britain’s colonization of India were written by writers like Rudyard Kipling, E.M. Forester, M.M. Kaye to name a few. India has had her own writers, novelists and poets from time immemorial and too many to name here. The one name I will focus on is Rabindranath Tagore: poet, novelist, essayist, playwright, painter, traveller, and a Bengali. Tagore’s Gitanjali, a collection of poems he translated into English with an introduction by William Butler Yeats, won the Nobel prize in literature in 1913. Tagore was awarded a knighthood which he returned in 1919 in protest against the Amritsar Jallianwallah Bagh massacre in which British troops fired on a large gathering of unarmed Indian men, women and children. Tagore travelled extensively through Europe, America and Asia to lecture and during his lectures he spoke eloquently for his homeland’s struggle for freedom from British rule. Unfortunately, Tagore did not live to see India’s independence passing away in 1941. India became a free country on August 15, 1947.
Tagore’s stories tell us that human relationship – whether between husband and wife, mother and child, master and servant – is the cornerstone of life. Take it away and you are left with nothing. These stories are written in simple Bengali, some with a rural setting while others have a city as a backdrop.
European influence in India is obvious in the use of the English language throughout the country and in the practise of the Christian religion; some French and Dutch language in Pondicherry in the southeast and in Goa.
What else have you published?
What Will It Be This Time, a book of personal essays was published in April 2020. I am currently working on a collection of short stories, poems and travel vignettes with a glimmer of magical realism and hope to have it published in the Spring of 2022.
How has your history affected your writing?
In the past, India has been ruled by the Mughals, Portuguese, British and French. As we have seen in history, religion practiced by the rulers influenced local communities leading to conversion which was sometimes forced and sometimes not. So, we have a robust community of Christians living alongside Hindus, Muslims, Parsis, Sikhs, Jains, Buddhists. I grew up in a neighbourhood where ours was the only Christian (Anglican)family. My parents kept open house during Christmas and friends and acquaintances dropped in from far and near. In the same way, we celebrated other festivals with great joy. This openness, a sense of belonging, having the knowledge that our neighbours had our back formed the fabric of my upbringing. I think the fact that we have been ruled by different nationalities has, in fact, made us resilient, with a healthy appetite for knowledge about different cultures. Outside of India, I find not too many really know about Indian culture which is, of course, not just one but many comprising every Indian state. Being Bengali, my stories have a natural bend towards this particular culture and language.
What is your favourite thing to read? Genre? Format? Culture?
I read almost anything – literary romance and mystery, historical fiction, non-fiction as in biography and autobiography, poetry and essays. Sometimes I read to research and sometimes simply for the joy of reading. My parents encouraged any form of reading and our house had many, many books, from classics to comic books, to the Book of Knowledge which was a beautifully illustrated 12 volume set. Our school library was a reader’s paradise but even with its vast numbers of books, it was soon evident that I had devoured them all and must needs turn to other means. And this was taken care of by my father who bought us books during his frequent business travels.
Where can readers find your books?
There are direct links from my website purabisinhadas.com to my books and how to get a copy.
Is there anything else you would like to tell readers?
This interview came at the right time. Thank you, Elaine. With one hectic day melding into another – what with book promotion of Moonlight – The Journey Begins, putting the finishing touches to my third book, making sure to stay in touch with family and friends – this interview made me pause in my headlong rush and reflect. Mindfulness, a conscious awareness of oneself is so important.
The pandemic has changed our lives. And we have changed in our perception of life. In the early days of the pandemic during forced isolation, I wrote so vigorously it gave me a book of personal essays which was published. That was my way of taking care of “things” or making a conscious effort to remain positive.
I would like to know what was yours?
My escape, Purabi, was the same. Thank you for asking! I lost my hurting self and my worries by writing a prequel to my Loyalist trilogy, The Loyalist’s Daughter, and now I am putting the finishing touches on a kind of a memoir about growing up in rural Ontario in the fifties and sixties. I wonder how many other creative people found their solace in their creativity?