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?
A Trip Back to the Launch of My First Book, The Loyalist’s Wife,and Some Notes on Author Interviews.
In 2013 I launched my first historical novel after spending 6 years writing, editing, rewriting, honing, conference-going and generally learning the writing business. It was a joyous time and I’ve had many such days since then with the exception of the quiet sendoff of my last book, The Loyalist’s Daughter, last December in the midst of the pandemic.
Here is what I wrote about part of that experience and the lessons still hold true today:
(First published December 16, 2015 on On Becoming a Wordsmith)
All writers want to know how to do a great interview and we’re delighted when someone asks us. Most of us love to get a chance to be treated like a writer.
Over the last three years since the first book in my Loyalist trilogy broke onto the vast market, I’ve been part of a lot of interviews, most of them online but a couple on radio and video for television. It’s an awesome ride for someone who found her new and most true life after retirement from a rewarding teaching career.
I’ve learned that interviews can vary all the way from being asked to write my own questions and answers to being given a huge list of questions to choose from. Many of the interviewers have tried to streamline their process in this and other ways because time is always a problem.
If the interviewer takes the writer’s answers and links them together in some way the whole piece can be very rewarding. If, however, the interviewer just strings the answers together with no preamble or linking words, the effect is just a little sterile.
Today I was reading the January 2016 issue of The Writer magazine and came across an article by Elfrieda Abbe complete with her interview of Julianna Baggott. The article began with a longish quote from Baggott’s YA novel, Pure, (“Pressia is lying in the cabinet….”) which absolutely hooked me. Talk about an opening! As I got to the actual interview questions–there are 14–I became more and more impressed with the work the interviewer put into this piece. She knew her subject intimately and linked her subsequent questions to things the author had revealed already. She asked Baggott to expand on such phrases as “undeniable truth” and “efficient creativity” showing that she was thoroughly enmeshed in the author’s work.
The Writer, January, 2016.
“What gave you the idea for Pressia’s disfigured hand?” she asked and my immediate reaction was that I must read this book. What power this interviewer had in her words and I’m convinced any author on the receiving end of such questions would be delighted.
The five-paragraph excerpt at the end of the interview revisits the quotation used in the opening but gives more information this time, expertly drawing the reader into the story. The last thing we are left to contemplate is where we might buy the book. Surely that must make the author smile. So, yes, this is a great writer interview showing both the writer’s absolute skill and the interviewer’s knowledge of just what her job is and her success at it. And I’m rewarded at this stage in my own career by having learned to dissect an article and see the process behind it.
Today my Loyalist books have grown to four and I’ve added a creative non-fiction to the mix. Just now I’m working on a memoir where I’ll disclose all the steamy parts of my life–NOT!
One of the best things about Netflix is the way it remembers what I like and gives me more of the same. Over the past year or so my husband and I have watched more television than usual and Netflix has had a good chance to see exactly the types of shows to which we gravitate. Here are some of the series we’ve enjoyed.
Our most recent find was Challenger: The Final Flight, the story of NASA’s disastrous first attempt to include civilians in the space program. Teacher Christa McAuliffe attracted a lot of media attention. The world followed her progress and NASA experienced a renewed media interest in the space program. Perhaps that accounts for the decision to go in spite of technical problems. The four episodes kept us glued to the TV and we learned a lot of new information. Excellent.
A few weeks ago we found Greatest Events of World War II in Colour. This series of ten episodes surprised us with original footage, excellently coloured so that it seemed to have been taken last week, and many, many facts about which we were ignorant. There is another similar title on Netflix which we have not watched yet so be careful to get the correct title.
The Royal House of Windsor gave a balanced and insightful picture of the Windsors and–of particular interest at the time of HRH Prince Philip’s death–of his contributions to the British monarchy. The six shows of season one begin the series. The first one shows the horrific reason for changing the royal family’s last name from Saxe-Coborg Gotha to Windsor and the series goes through to Prince Charles’ preparations to become King. Interesting and fact-filled.
Of course my particular interest as a reader and writer is historical fiction. This gives me a chance to experience the facts of history but also the fictional accounts of individual people who may have lived. Diana Gabaldon’s books about Scotland and Jamie Fraser in the 1700’s are legendary, so much so that they have been turned into an excellent series. Outlander is also on Netflix and I quite enjoyed seeing the series brought to the screen. My preference is always to read the books first, though. Isn’t yours?
A few years ago my wonderful brother-in-law got me started on Bernard Cornwell’s Uhtred of Bebbanburg series about the Vikings attacking the Saxons in the north of England and the boy who was taken back to grow up with Saxon heritage but Viking ways. It really taught me a lot about English history and I still look to see what Cornwell’s latest book is. The Last Kingdom is fabulous. Oh, I must check and see if there are any more shows on Netflix!
Every one of these shows will keep you thinking, whether you prefer fiction or real events. Please share your own favourites in the comments, whether they be books, movies or TV series.
One of my favourite things to do is to sit down at my computer, put my fingers on the home row and see what they write about. Usually they lead me to find some nugget of truth deep within myself, maybe that I didn’t even fully know was there. That’s a beautiful thing about writing–you never know where it will take you.
This is a screenshot of the lower right corner of my Mac screen. I have a few favourite things here that help me be joyful. They lift me up and let me know what is possible.
I have a blog post about me written years ago by my clever daughter, another sweet poke in my overflowing heart.
I have my own poem about My Angels, four of my siblings who died long before they should have.
And I have a video of my husband and I and our two grown kids singing a quartet in our church a few years ago. There is no music so sweet for this mother.
I could have many other mementos on my desktop–I certainly have a huge rubber tub full in my basement–but these suffice. They remind me of what’s important. They remind me of my heart.
I firmly believe that we human beings need and want to connect to what is good and pure within us and that connection holds in our writing. I love to see a story resolved in a satisfying way with just retribution for the characters and the suggestion of good things to come in their future.
That old plot graph my English teacher drew on the blackboard–when, yes, they were still black and not green!–with its ascending line from one crisis to another until the final climax and denouement, that graph takes the writer and the reader to a great story. And my personal preference is to have a heroine or hero the reader can admire as a decent person.
When writing my nonfiction book about Ron Calhoun, The Man Behind the Marathons, I saw again and again the character of the man who was behind so many who stepped up to raise money for charity. Terry Fox and the father-son team of John and Jesse Davidson were especially rewarding to write about. Learning of the inner workings of those cross-country runs was doubly rewarding because I could admire all of those involved.
The Loyalist books, including the latest, The Loyalist’s Daughter, allowed me to learn about the real people who stayed loyal to the crown in 1776 but also to create fictional characters and have them interact with those who lived through the time. Doubly rewarding was finding out about my own Loyalist ancestors. I loved imagining what those ancestors’ lives may have been like. And when my research revealed events that were not so positive, I enjoyed finding ways that my characters might react. It was a heady experience, the most rewarding of my working life.
Today I have five books to my credit and another on the way. I think of them as vehicles to put my thoughts out in the world, not so much for others but because they are a way that I can express myself for myself. That others enjoy my work is the absolutely most delicious frosting on my banana cake.
It is really time. Time to stop hiding the history of our past–no matter what country we live in–and tell the truth.
I always call myself a flag-waving Canadian because of my pride in this country. I think we live in a fantastic country where most people support the idea of working together to build lives here for everyone.
Every so often, though, some big fat ugly snake pokes its head up out of the sand of our smushed down secret past and I despair.
A number of years ago that snake with a forked tongue was the uproar about the residential schools that were set up when our country was much younger in order to teach our native people’s children. Sounds good, right?
In essence those schools stripped all of the students of their native language and of their own indigenous history, and the stories of abuse of children ripped from their parents and their homes and forced to live among strangers, many of whom abused them horribly, have sickened me and millions like me. The repercussions will be felt for generations.
Recently news outlets in North America hissed out reports of police brutality towards Blacks. Yes, I know. This is a terribly painful subject. And I do need to escape the pain sometimes. One thing I’ve noticed, however, in the aftermath of these brutal stories is the number of people of colour finding a prominent place on my television screen as intelligent, worthy, insightful, moral and likeable human beings. Hurrah!
Coiled up with that fight against systemic racism is the fight of women around the world to end violence and unfair treatment against them simply because they are women. I have had my own share of those fights about unfair treatment over my lifetime, although, thankfully, not in any way showing itself in violent acts against my person.
I fought to be recognized in the church bulletin by my own name, not by my husband’s name (Mrs. R. Cougler) when I was our church choir leader. I spoke out loudly about my drug store taking my regular personal prescription and giving me the bill in the following manner: Mr. R. Cougler For Elaine. As though I was somehow my husband’s ward. I have stood up for my rights as a woman and as a person in my teaching career on many occasions, the details of which I will not mention in order to protect the guilty.
In my Loyalist novels my sentiments about the plight of the “Indians” and the slaves are clear. Particularly in The Loyalist Legacy, I address both of those systemic wrongs, I hope, in a compassionate and intelligent manner, showing the humanity of those involved. It is who I am.
Just this month, however, I read some horrifying accounts of free Blacks coming to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick to escape the slave culture in the Thirteen Colonies which became the United States of America.
My Loyalist Background
Because of my own Loyalist background and several of the books I’ve written I have been the guest speaker at many UELAC branch meetings. That has led me to sign up for their weekly newsletter and learn more from the amazing historians who every week contribute knowledgeable and well-researched articles about various Loyalist histories.
One of those most interesting writers is Stephen Davidson UE. I have referenced his work before in my blog posts or newsletters. He is very generous with his well-documented research.
In a recent issue of the Loyalist Trails, Stephen’s article mentioned Black Loyalists who came to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick and how they were forced to live. Blacks were not given the same treatment as white Loyalists. Stephen’s stories of them living in 5 foot by 5 foot holes dug into a hillside and topped with small peaked roofs one side of which had a trap door for entry got my attention.
The second book has not arrived yet but I have started the first one and it is full of historical information that the author has had to dig long and hard to find. This is partly because of fire and other disasters and also because of the will of historians to preserve facts as perceived through their own looking glass.
I look forward to finishing both of these books so that I can add to my knowledge of how Black Loyalists were treated as opposed to other Loyalists. I will definitely share what I find.
“I’ve written you the book I wanted for myself earlier in my career.”
Beth Cougler Blom
This sentence in the opening paragraphs of Design to Engage tells the reader right away that this is a how-to book for people designing learning experiences. Not only is it a how-to book, the book has been written with knowledge and the desire to share that knowledge with the larger world in such a way that learning happens meaningfully and joyfully for those lucky enough to have either a spot in one of Beth’s sessions or a copy of Design to Engage on their bookshelf.
Writing in first person, Beth puts her whole self into telling her facilitator story, both the good and the not so good parts. All of it helps the reader see the possible progression from beginner to sought after facilitator who is constantly looking to improve herself and her sessions. Beth suggests that mistakes are simply learning opportunities.
The very setup of the book lends itself to quick dips into the subject matter. The chapters progress logically through steps from Facilitators of Learning (1) all the way to Grow Your Facilitation Practice (8) and the author encourages readers to read whatever topics they need at a given moment. Not often does an author say this, but Beth does. Her passion for learning and helping to learn leaps off the pages.
The overall look also encourages readers to pick the book off the shelf, virtual or actual, and peruse the pages. The colour scheme of the cover is emphasized in the book itself with various sections found throughout in coloured frames or titles. My favourite use of the pastel colours is that each chapter has its own coloured page borders about ¾” thick making reading or searching for a particular chapter very easy. This also helps the reader know how many more pages remain in a given chapter, and the artistic effect is absolutely stunning.
Now you may have noticed that Beth and I share a name. Yes, she is my daughter and that has made me think long and hard about even writing this review. Still, as a former educator, I am familiar with the subject matter that is so close to Beth’s heart. I also think that this book would be useful for any writers who are called upon to do readings or workshops for their public. For those reasons, I decided to go ahead and give you my thoughts.
Beth Cougler Blom began her career as a training coordinator and then facilitator herself, both as an employee with other organizations and through her own learning design and facilitation business, which she began in 2011. Beth has helped clients, large and small, in all sectors design and facilitate great learning experiences, face-to-face and online.
Beth has been an instructional designer for the teaching and learning centre at Royal Roads University and in the non-profit sector. She teaches learning design and facilitation in publicly-accessible courses through her own business and for select post-secondary and community environments as well as for private clients. In her work for community organizations and higher education institutions as well as for corporations, government, and healthcare, she has discovered how facilitation of learning could be and should be enhanced. Beth lives outside of Victoria, British Columbia with her husband and daughter. Her website is bethcouglerblom.com and other links are below.
The Loyalist’s Daughter (Prequel to the Loyalist trilogy): Young Lucinda Harper and her father William are taking a late-night walk on Boston’s Long Wharf when disguised men run past their hiding place, jump into small boats, and rush out to the Dartmouth anchored in the harbor. As the Harpers watch, the masked men scramble up its sides and begin throwing chests of tea into the water, a warlike act that escalates the conflict. The British forces occupying Boston and the new Continental Army harrying the British come to blows. All the while William struggles to solve his business problems and ensure his daughter’s future happiness. Tea becomes the least of their problems.