The Story Behind the Story with author Andrew Butters of Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Let’s welcome a new author to the Scribbler.

I met Andrew through a mutual friend a few years ago. He has kindly agreed to our invitation to be our guest this week.

Read on, my friends.

  

Andrew is a multi-genre writer who also creates content, eats snacks, blogs, freelances, toils over his next novel, sucks at golf, enjoys science, supports equality, and always uses the Oxford comma. He sometimes lets his love of attention override common sense. You can find evidence of this pretty much anywhere you can find Andrew.

 

Title: Known Order Girls

 

Synopsis:

As new technology develops, allowing people to share consciousness, global wars erupt over how to control it and who should be at the helm. A scientist with thirty generations of knowledge fears that those in charge cannot be trusted with what he knows and takes the secrets to his grave. That doesn’t stop The Association from harnessing the power of the AI behind the advanced tech and using it against the citizens in what is now called the Known Order. 

Life in the Known Order is predictable and sanitized. Every action is tracked, and every outcome is known, but when Katherine Webb uncovers vestiges of the old world, it creates a spark. With the help of a small group of trusted friends and confidants, Katherine decides that if anything is going to change, she needs to stop asking for permission and have no interest in forgiveness. Through small acts of subversion, Katherine and the Girls begin a movement hoping to restore freedom, individuality, and choice to a society that's gone without for generations. 

The Story Behind the Story:

The idea for this book came to me while watching my children play in the lobby of the Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara, Ontario. Fitbits were all the rage then. As I checked my steps, I heard a staff member start barking orders to people so they could make room for children to sit in front of the creepy animatronic tree and woodland creatures for story time. My daughter, Avery, who was four years older than her brother, AJ, explained to him what was going on. “Should we do what he says?” he asked her. “No, we’re not in the way. We can keep coloring.”

This was long before AI started growing like mold on society, and by the time I put pen to paper, it was only used on the periphery and hadn’t taken hold yet. In November of 2023, I finished the final draft of the book, and less than a year later, Generative AI was a ubiquitous juggernaut of amorality, misinformation, and theft.  

My hope when I wrote it was to prove a point by viewing society through a highly exaggerated lens. It turns out it wasn’t a lens after all. It was a mirror.  

Katherine and Chadwick’s personalities were modeled (at least a bit) on my daughter and son, to whom this book is dedicated. Katherine Webb’s name is a combination of Katherine Johnson (NASA mathematician) and James Webb (NASA administrator for whom the telescope is named), and Chadwick’s character got his name from the late actor Chadwick Boseman. 

 

 

Website: Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Andrew.

Scribbler: Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up?

Andrew: In elementary school, I read the usual assortment of Dr. Seuss and other children’s books. A big favourite of mine was Alligator Pie by Dennis Lee. A collection of silly and nonsensical poems that are still a joy to read as an adult.

In middle school, I gravitated to The Great Brain series by John D. Fitzgerald, as well as Beverly Cleary’s Ralph Mouse trilogy: The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Runaway Ralph, and Ralph S. Mouse. Of course, the Choose Your Own Adventure books were always on my bookshelf.

I started high school feeding on a steady diet of sports biographies, with Ken Dryden’s The Game and Vladislav Tretiak’s Tretiak: The Legend, instant favourites. After I discovered Rush’s album 2112, a stolen copy of Ayn Rand’s novella, Anthem, remained in my backpack for a good year. In fact, a few elements of that album and the book are found within the pages of Known Order Girls. However, over my last two years of high school, I read more Stephen King books than any other author. Tommyknockers was my first, followed by Pet Sematary, IT, Misery, and Needful Things. Today, I keep a copy of On Writing on a shelf in my desk.

An Excerpt from Known Order Girls:

“Whereas the short-term impact of AI depends on who controls it, the long-term impact depends on whether it can be controlled at all.”

—Stephen Hawking

00000000 [Zero]

Carlton Sedgwick paced in front of the desk in his lab and quizzed his lab assistant and closest confidant, Isaac Valderrama, on the procedure.

“Do you understand what you’re supposed to do?” Carlton ran his hands through his thinning gray hair.

“Completely.”

“There can’t be any deviations.”

“There won’t be.” Isaac clenched his teeth and swallowed.

“Recite it back to me.” Carlton leaned against his desk and folded his arms.

“You lie down on the stretcher at the side of the plastic tub in the containment chamber. I’ll

hook the IV into the PICC line you’ve already got in your arm. Once you give me the word, I’ll inject the general anesthetic.”

Isaac paced back and forth in front of Carlton.

“Once you’re unconscious, I give you the diazepam-digoxin-morphine sulfate-amitriptyline cocktail. I confirm death, put on my chemical protective suit, and slowly slide you into the tub filled with concentrated sodium hydroxide, keeping the rubber stretcher between me and the chemical bath. Then I exit the chamber, close the door behind me, take off the suit, and wait. Once you are sufficiently—”

His voice hitched, and he inhaled to collect himself. 

“Once you are sufficiently dissolved, I push the green button to start the timer and press the red button to release the aluminum tubes. Once the last tube is in the tub, I turn on the gas by your workbench and exit the lab, leaving the door unlocked. I walk home via the exact route you specified.”

He sat down on a lab stool and folded his hands into his lap, making eye contact with his mentor.

“When I hear the explosion and the sirens, I do not pick up the phone to make a call. I wait for it to ring. When it does, I sound surprised. When the authorities come, I act inconsolable.”

“Good. They’re going to question you after this. They may even arrest you.”

“I’m prepared. The answer to every question is ‘no’ or ‘I don’t know.’ Aside from what happens here, now, it’s not a lie. I don’t know anything. In fact, I know less than they do about your work.”

Carlton stood up and put his hands on Isaac’s shoulders. “They won’t believe you. For thirty generations, we’ve protected this and only provided enough wisdom to outside influences to move humanity forward, albeit slowly. We’ve gone to great lengths to ensure a single chain of humans is involved, and no computer has spent so much as a millisecond connected to the internet. They will not accept that it’s all lost forever.”

Isaac pulled his friend into an embrace. “I want to know more.”

“You can’t. It’s not safe for you or for humanity.”

“You’re being hyperbolic.”

Carlton broke from Isaac’s hug and stood ramrod straight.

“I’m not. You don’t realize how special you are. You’re one of a thousand people in the world, if that, whose brains are clean. Since Shared Intellect and Inherited Consciousness was created thirty Carlton Sedgwicks ago, only a few people have opted out. You come from the longest known line of those who have. It’s why I chose you.”

Isaac shook his head.

“Once scientists understood dark matter, dark energy, and quantized gravity to build the Grand Unified Theory, there was nothing left to discover. There are no more unanswerable questions. We live as part of The Known Order. What of The Association? Surely, they have the Commander computer and countless humans working around the clock to fill in the gaps you and all your predecessors intentionally left.”

“You are aware of the differences between information, knowledge, and wisdom, yes? All you need to know is Commander X-15 possesses all worldly information, and The Association all knowledge. I, and I alone, thanks to my twenty-nine former physical hosts, possess the wisdom. No one can be trusted with it. No one can, not anymore, and certainly not The Association. It must die with me.”

“I understand.”

Carlton met his assistant’s eyes.

“Do you?”

Isaac nodded.

“Good. It’s time.”

Carlton stripped off his clothes and entered the clear acrylic containment chamber. It took some doing to find six seven-foot-by-seven-foot sheets, discreetly acquire them, and get them into the lab, but he’d made more than a few friends over the years, and he got it done. Room- darkening fabric with thermal-image-blocking capabilities adorned the windows. Eavesdropping-proof devices sat every few feet around the perimeter of the room. With everything in place, he lay face up on the stretcher, being careful not to touch the inside of the tub.

Isaac attached the IV to his PICC line.

“Goodbye, Isaac.”

“Goodbye, Doctor Sedgwick, all thirty versions of you.”

Carlton Sedgwick lost consciousness and died before his smile faded.

 

Buy the Book HERE.

 

Thank you for being our guest, Andrew. I look forward to reading your story. We wish you continued success with your writing.

Thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

We’d love to hear from you.

The Story Behind the Story with Author S.C. Eston of Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada.

 

One of our most popular guests is back!

 

With a new book on the shelves, Steve is anxious to share the SBTS. The novel is garnering a lot of attention. I am quite a ways into the story and enjoying it tremendously. I highly recommend it.

He's been a guest many times and if you missed them, please go HERE.

Read on, my friends.

 

 

Steve C. Eston is a fantasy and science fiction author with a lifelong passion for the fantastical and the scientific. He wrote his first story in elementary school—a tiger-masked ninja battling mystical monsters—and has been writing ever since. When not spending time with his family, Steve enjoys reading, gaming, sports, music, movies, puzzles, and travel. He is the author of six books, including Deficiency, The Lost Tyronian Archives series, and The Baneseeker Chronicles series.

 

Title: Defeat (Book 2 of the Baneseeker Chronicles)

 

Synopsis:

The young warrior-sorceress Lyna sets her course on Brecon, one of the largest and richest cities of Tilia. There, she plans to visit the grand library and learn more about the Territories of Sij, a land where her ancestors once lived, a place she hopes to eventually call home. 

But evil seems to follow Lyna wherever she goes, and one of the sinister bane cores looms near Brecon, sowing discord, twisting hearts, claiming lives. She’s the only one who can feel its presence. She’s the only one who can stop it. 

Yet as she sets out to destroy the accursed object, she unwittingly befriends the family who harbors it—and who possibly created it. Quickly, it becomes clear that the misery wrought goes much deeper than Lyna could have imagined, making her doubt her own senses, her own judgment. 

Time is running out and Lyna must decide: take the knowledge she discovered about her ancestors and run, or stay behind and attempt to eliminate the bane core, at the risk of destroying those she now calls friends.

 

The Story Behind the Story:

I wrote The Baneseeker Chronicles because I wanted to spend more time in Arvelas—a world that has been growing with me since my teenage years, when it first took shape through tabletop role-playing games. Decades later, I’m still playing in that world, but I’m also writing stories in it. Arvelas has become the setting for multiple works, including The Conclave, which I often recommend as a good introduction to the world before diving into The Baneseeker Chronicles. I believe I’ll continue to travel to Arvelas for many years to come. It’s a place I love that continues to evolve and to surprise me.

The series is dark fantasy at its core, blending elements of classic epic and high fantasy with mystery, horror, action and adventure.

Defeat, the second book, takes place three months before Surrender and explores the events that shape Lyna and lead her to where she ends up in the first book. She was a character in some of our past games, and I always felt there was more to her story than what we’d seen at the table. This series gives me the space to dive into her journey—her struggles, her choices, and the way she grows and shapes the world around her. In many ways, it’s a series about discovering Lyna, and rediscovering Arvelas, all over again.

 

 

Website – Please go HERE.

A question before you go, Steve:
Scribbler: Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up?

Steve: Growing up, my favorite authors were Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Some of the very first fantasy books I read were the Dragonlance Chronicles and Dragonlance Legends—they had such an engaging storyline and an exceptional cast of characters that they made me fall in love with the fantasy genre. From there I devoured more of their work, including the Darksword series and The Rose of the Prophet trilogy, but the series that has stayed with me the longest is The Death Gate Cycle.

The Death Gate Cycle is a seven‑book fantasy saga that takes readers through a richly imagined multiverse where ancient races, elemental worlds, and deep conflicts all intertwine. The series opened my mind to the possibilities of fantasy—not just as escapism, but as a way to explore experiences, motivations, and transformations that echo real life. Weis and Hickman’s blend of deep world‑building, memorable characters, and thoughtful themes are a huge part of why I enjoy and write fantasy today, and why I keep returning to the genre time and time again.

An Excerpt from Defeat:

(Copyright is held by the Author. Used by permission)

The white knight jumped off her horse with surprising ease. A puddle from the previous night’s rain splashed as her boots connected with the ground. The elven woman placed the reins on a low branch and staked her silver lance in the dirt. Then she pulled out packed rations from a pouch hanging from the saddle.

“This is as good a spot as any,” she said, turning to her companion.

Lyna acknowledged the invitation with a brisk movement of her head.

Dalahana had selected a glade just off the main road, an open space shielded by the thick mottled canopy of a crooked tree with bark the color of amber. A talsarius tree, unique to these regions, if Lyna remembered correctly. The fall season had already started to dye its leaves in fiery hues.

“I have my own food,” Lyna said as her companion placed a round loaf of bread, fresh cheese, and purple berries on the flat surface of a large boulder.

“Do not be like that,” said the elven knight. She took off her grand helm, freeing her silver hair and revealing the three emerald pearls forming a vertical line on her forehead. “Share my meal, and keep what you have for when you need it.”

The pearls identified Dalahana as one of the elites of Quilanis, and yet she called Telstar, a human city, her home.

“Brecon is but half a day away,” Lyna said. “Why not spend the night there?”

“That’s your destination. I need to return to Telstar. I’ve been absent for too long.”

Although Lyna had expected nothing less, she couldn’t help being disappointed. Her friend, her only elven friend, had dedicated her life to the White Shield and serving the queen. She had abandoned her own motherland for Telstar, a city she continued to believe to be the long-lost City of Light.

“Do you see the silhouette above the tree line?” asked Dalahana.

Lyna nodded.

“It is the first statue of the guardians of old. Brecon lies yonder.”

Lyna had noticed the statue the night before. Its size alone awed anyone looking upon it. It soared above the trees, standing in front of a high cliff, detached from it and yet born of its rock.

“Have you walked the streets of Brecon before?”

“No.” Lyna had traveled these roads but had never veered off to visit Brecon or look upon the guardians. She didn’t quite care for this realm. Once, she had been fond of Telstar, more particularly its temple dedicated to Tyr. But those days were past. “How many statues are there?”

“Forty-three, carved into the cliff’s I more than fifteen hundred years ago.”

“By whom?”

“The carvers of Kurtor, as a peace offering. All but one still stand strong.”

Here was a truce that had endured through the centuries, remaining intact even as some kingdoms fell and others rose. Kurtor and Tilia, dwarves and humans, forever allies, or so it seemed.

“Who were the Silver Guardians?” Lyna asked.

“Defenders of the weak during the Time of the Beasts, the third era. A fascinating age, although little is known about it other than the fact that dragons and hydras ruled the world. Did you know that most of the guardians were of our kin?”

Lyna lifted an eyebrow.

“Surprised?”

From the little she had heard, Lyna had assumed that the guardians had been human. The fact that they were elves, of the Ilth’Ilanor, meant that once some of her ancestors might have walked and inhabited these regions.

“That’s why Altanos chose Brecon, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Possibly,” said Dalahana, “and also because its library rivals the one in Var Galdin, although it is much less frequented. A quieter place to study and learn. Altanos values his privacy and space.” Her friend studied Lyna for a moment. “I hope he can offer some assistance, although I continue to believe you’ll be disappointed in the end.”

Lyna ignored the note of disapproval in Dalahana’s voice. Instead, she grabbed some of the bread and cheese, both of Quilanis. Neither would ever spoil, staying as fresh as the day they had been prepared.

Dahalana continued to look toward the statue, eating slowly, her face inscrutable yet serene, as if she had no worry. Even with a cloudy sky, the round emeralds on her forehead glistened.

“Why not head farther north instead?”

“No,” said Lyna, “not Kolt.”

“How long has it been since you left?”

“Not long enough.”

“I think you should go finish what you started.”

This time, condescension.

“There is nothing there for me.”

“So you keep telling me, but who are you trying to convince?”

 

Buy the book HERE. 

Thanks for being our guest this week, Steve. We wish you continued success with your stories. 

 Thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

We’d love to hear from you.

The Story Behind the Story with Author/Poet Jane Tims of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Good news! Jane is back to the Scribbler. 

I’ve known Jane for many years now and enjoy her stories. I’m looking forward to reading this novel and I’m pleased she is here to tell us about it.

Jane has been a frequent guest and if you missed her last visit, please go HERE.

Read on, my friends.

 

 

Jane Tims is an author, biologist and historian. In her writing, she includes themes from her interests in botany and built landscape. She illustrates most of her books. She has published 7 books of poetry, five books in the Kaye Eliot Mysteries, and two children’s books (one as illustrator). Under the name Alexandra Tims, she has published 13 books in her science fiction series ‘Meniscus,’ and six novellas in the Urban Mysteries Series. Her latest book, ‘Open to the Skies,’ is published by Merlin Star Press. Jane won the 2016 Alfred G. Bailey Prize for her book of poems ‘mnemonic,’ and her poetry collection ‘a glimpse of waterfall’ was short listed in the 2022 New Brunswick Book Awards. She is currently working on four novellas in the Rural Mysteries Series

 

Title: Open to the Skies

 

Synopsis:

Sadie, a weaver and writer, and Tom, a retired welder, become interested in repurposing an old, soon-to-be-deconsecrated, church. The building fits into their plans to create a writers’ retreat on their property in rural New Brunswick, as part of their larger plan to give Sadie a future, since Tom is dying of welders’ lung. To acquire the church and move it to their own property, Sadie and Tom must understand the mythology surrounding the church and face antagonism every step of the way. Their plans raise the hackles of the neighbours, including a spiteful claimant to the church land. As Sadie and Tims work to win over the community, fire becomes a recurring threat. Sadie learns that churches are not only stained-glass windows and candlesticks, but places of community memories, stories and deeply held secrets, including the mystery of a blue toy truck and the identity of a young boy who shows up whenever drama unfolds.

 

The Story Behind the Story:

I have always been interested in built heritage: old homes, old churches, empty schoolhouses, and covered bridges. This, coupled with my understanding of biology, constitutes a reverence for protection of landscape and conservation of older buildings. I have been involved in the decommissioning of two older churches in the Anglican Parish of New Maryland and worked with the New Maryland Heritage Association to establish the local Saint Mary the Virgin Church as a Heritage Centre for the community. During this work, I learned about the various stages of repurposing an old church and the important role of the community in the process. I have also worked in various community consultation processes.

          The setting for the story is a part of rural New Brunswick in Queens County where my husband and I have a summer home. We have explored the woodlands and shorelines of the rivers in the area, as well as the shops and restaurants of Gagetown and Cambridge Narrows. Our experiences in the local area are incorporated into the way Sadie and Tom love their property and their local communities.

          I also am interested in the idea of a writers’ retreat where writers can learn and explore their craft. The concept provides a setting that is established in ‘Open to the Skies’ and continues to grow and evolve in three more books/stories yet to be published about the Whisper Wind Writers’ Retreat.

 

Website: Please go HERE. 

A question before you go, Jane.

Scribbler: Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up?

Jane: I loved writer Lucy Maude Montgomery, known for her books about Anne of Green Gables. In particular, I love her book ‘Blue Castle,’ which follows the adventures of a young woman who discovers she has a fatal illness and decides to live her final days in a setting of her own choosing. Her adventures in rural Ontario and her relationship with her naturalist husband have inspired my own approach to living with nature all around me.

 

An Excerpt from Open to the Skies:

(Copyright is held by the author. Printed with permission)

 

Some people go to church on a Sunday morning and come home poorer by thirty dollars. My wife goes to church and comes home with, what else? The church.

I should be happy. Sadie, who has resisted the plan for a writers’ retreat from the beginning, is finally enthusiastic. Her specialty is history and of course she wants to save an old building. Wants to preserve the stained-glass windows and the brass bell. I think the writers’ retreat is a convenient excuse.

An expensive excuse. When I left work, I carried a tidy compensation package with me. Enough to keep me from suing the company for hazardous working conditions. Enough to buy the flat-screen TV my friend Paul is always going on about. But enough to buy a church? And a hall and house? And move them more than ten kilometres? Not to mention foundations, renovations and perturbations.

I give a glance at the parking lot in front of the tavern. Look for Paul’s Land Rover. Since I left work, we meet here once a month for a draft and a burger. He and Rigger have barely enough time to drive here, eat and get back to work, but I like staying in touch.

At the table by the window is a thin guy in a ball cap. Older than me, drinking by himself. Whiskey by the dark of it. He uses the tip of a key to scratch his initials into the wood of the table. He sees me looking his way and shoves his keys into his pocket. Throws down a five-dollar bill. Manages to give my chair a jolt as he pushes by, spills my drink. In no mood for a scuffle, I watch him as he climbs into a green pickup. Leaves rubber as he pulls away.

I catch the eye of the server and order another lager just as Paul and Rigger arrive. Paul, lean and lanky, and Rigger with the build of a short line-backer.

We order, sling a little bull, talk about the price of gasoline, and whether there’ll be lay-offs this spring. Getting together with your buddies can be a tad depressing.

“How are the house plans going?” says Rigger. He’s never quite as up-to-date on my life as Paul who drops by most weekends.

“Plans are changing,” I say. “We came across an old church, slated for demolition. And a house and hall that go with it. We’re thinking about moving them to the property.”

“A church! You getting religion in your infirm years?” says Paul, a heathen, especially on Sundays.

“We’d use the church for a teaching space. Live in the house, let them camp out in the hall.” Rigger considers the idea as he ravages a three-decker burger.

“I still wonder about this writer idea,” says Paul who is fond of presenting his pros and cons to open air and arguing with himself aloud. “I mean, who really writes? Everyone talks about writing, but who actually does? Of course, all these baby boomers will be wanting something to do when they retire. Install a wheelchair ramp and you’ll be in business.”

“Sadie writes. Poetry, right?” says Rigger, between gulps of draft.

“I think the guy who won that big literary prize a couple of years ago lives out there,” says Paul. “Wrote a book about a little kid who steals a truck.”

“A kid who steals a truck? What happens?” says Rigger. Like me, Rigger gets all his literary knowledge second hand.

“Don’t look at me,” I say.

“An old church,” says Paul, mulling. “Are you sure it’s even sound? I think about Howie Jessop, you know, the guy who used to run the gantry crane at the yard. I think he does big haul moving. Takes a shitload of money.”

“And what about moving all those power lines,” says Rigger. “To let the steeple through.”

Buy the Book HERE Or HERE.

Thank you for being our guest this week, Jane. 

We wish you continued success with your writing. 

Thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

We’d love to hear from you.

The Story Behind the Story with Author Doug Dolan of Moncton NB, Canada.

 This is Doug’s second visit to the Scribbler. 

Welcome Back!

If you missed his first visit, please go HERE for a captivating short story.

Read on, my friends.

 

 

Doug Dolan was born and raised in the Miramichi region of New Brunswick. His work life was spent in the field of education, both in the classroom and program management. At the age of seventy, he picked up the writers pen and shows no sign of slowing down. Dolan is the author of three books including, “Christmas On The River.” Doug and his husband Gary live in Moncton, NB.

 

Title: “Christmas on The River”

 

Synopsis:

The book is a collection of short stories where readers connect with authentic characters in evocative tales. They experience powerful storms and the magnificent but unpredictable Miramichi river. The profiles feature Miramichi residents, including ninety-eight-year-old Katherine, whose inspiring story conveys positivity after personal tragedy. 

 

The Story Behind the Story:

The narratives come from Dolan’s experiences and those of other Miramichi folks. “The stories are nostalgic and I make no apologies for that. They offer an alternative to the mad rush of consumption that Christmas has become. Friends and relatives graciously allowed me to write about times that gave them real joy.

Visit Doug’s website by going HERE.

Buy the Book HERE.

A question before you go, Doug:

Scribbler: Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up?

Doug: Cornelius Ryan, an American author wrote about real people experiencing life events and growing from them. His narrative style was very much, the newspaper reporter.

Thanks for being our guest this week, Doug. We wish you continued success with your writing.

Thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

We’d love to hear from you.