The Story Behind the Story with D.C. Malcolm of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

           We have someone new to the Scribbler this week. 

Let’s welcome D.C. Malcolm.

She is sharing the good news about her Latest book.  

Read on my friends.

 

 

D.C. Malcolm is a self-published Historical Mystery Author of Guilty Deceptions and Dark Jealousy. She lives in New Brunswick, Canada, with her son. Her interests include Victorian times, True Crime, and Murder Mysteries. Which heavily influence her writing. When she isn’t killing off characters in her novels, D.C. enjoys a quiet life, reading, spending time with family, and watching murder mysteries.

 

 Title: Dark Jealousy

 

Synopsis: A year after the events of Guilty Deceptions, Sheriff Dawson returns when Catherine Baker is found brutally murdered next to her mother's woodshed in Willow Grove. Armed with his deputy's keen eye and his own wit, Sheriff Dawson must solve this gruesome murder. However, when he has it all figured out, suspects start dropping one by one. Forcing Sheriff Dawson to face the reality of stereotypes – fight for what is right – and hopefully solve these crimes before someone else dies.

 

The Story Behind the Story: While I was finishing Guilty Deceptions, an idea came to me. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the characters I had created, and I felt there was more to Sheriff Dawson, Becky, Annie, and Patrick. I also didn’t want to let go of some other characters like Sylvester, Billy, and Horace, to name a few.

After brainstorming, I decided that I could continue this story into a series. This was because Guilty Deceptions had transformed from a story focused on Maggie and John to a story about Sheriff Dawson, his mind, and his hardships.

Once I decided that I was going to continue the series, I realized I needed to find a plot to base my story on. This is because of my unique niche of loosely basing my murder mysteries on real-life crimes from Victorian times.

So, I researched cases that stuck out. Something that I could twist and morph into a story. After hours of research, I came across a case that happened in 1883, where a man named William had been convicted of murdering his wife, Elizabeth. The murder took place in Willow Grove, a community that I had already introduced in Guilty Deceptions, and I figured it would be nice to revisit the area in a second book.

The problem was the date, which wasn’t much of a problem. I just changed the date from 1883 to 1871 to fit the timeline of Sheriff Dawson. When I sit down to write, I never know the ending of my stories. Halfway through my first draft, I decided that I had to touch on topics that were considered taboo in 1871. Sheriff Dawson is always ahead of his time and touches on these taboo subjects with a modern view.

I also did some research via newspapers on Google Books. (I love using this feature in my research) and found out that Small Pox was going around Saint John in 1871. After my research, I wanted to place a few nods to Guilty Deceptions. I researched buildings built by the real-life John and visited these buildings in the story during the investigation. I described these buildings the best I could, and, from my understanding, many still stand in Saint John today. I owe credit to the many people on the Facebook group Historic Saint John for helping me with this. I was able to make connections to a fellow local author who was a tremendous help. I also connected with a local historian who helped me with street names before the fire and where these streets were located.

When I had everything I needed, I let the characters tell me what happened, how it happened, and who was responsible for it happening in the first place. My book Dark Jealousy was fun to write, and I plan to have more books in the Sheriff Dawson series. I’ve been working on a prequel to the books.

 

Website: Go HERE  

 

A question before you go:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

DC: My apartment is small, but I created a makeshift office in a corner of my living room. This is where I work on my writing. It’s a small desk with my laptop and a few trinkets, cluttered with writing books, among other things. The wall behind my desk has a calendar, a corkboard for my notes, and is plastered with canvases about writing and books. Cluttered or not, this is my favorite place to write. I’m also not much of a drinker, only drinking on special occasions. However, I love my coffee and can be found with a cup beside me, usually a double-double – homemade. As for music or quiet, I can write with both. I grew up in a family of six. So, I had three younger siblings, all many years younger. The youngest is thirteen years my junior, so I tend to block out the noise, the easiest way I can concentrate.

 

 

An Excerpt:

The snow was stained crimson all around the front of the shed. The front wall and door were splattered in blood. Yet, my eyes were on Catherine Baker; her head partly severed – as if the murderer attempted to cut her head off – but failed miserably at it. A few feet away, a bloody axe was discarded in the snow. Sylvester crept down and carefully examined the body.

“On an educated guess,” he said. “This death is but a few hours old, maybe less.”

“This is what I feared,” I said. “A fresh murder and we have no idea what the cause or intent here was. Will the killer strike again? That’s yet to be seen.” Edward walked up to us.

“We have tracks in the snow,” he said. “One is a woman’s, the others men and I can guess that they are about size ten.” I sighed and shook my head.

“There are a lot of men that wear size ten,” I said. “We’ll have to narrow down the list. Yet, we don’t even have a suspect.” The photographer was snapping photos around us.

“What about the farmhand?” Patrick asked, and I narrowed my eyes.

“What about him?” I asked, and Patrick sighed.

“Well, he was here during the murder, wasn’t he boss?” Patrick asked. “He either did it or he knows something.” He was right, we had to look into everything and the farmhand was a good place to start the investigation.

“Okay,” I said. “Here’s what we are going to do,” I licked my lips and pointed to my men. “Paul, Edward, and Curtis, you search the house for any clues. Peter, Jonathan, and William, you search the grounds with Dr. Knox and Dr. Murphy. Patrick, you're with me.”

“Where are we going, boss?” Patrick asked.

“We need to question the farmhand,” I said, making my way back out front and looking at Angela.

“Miss Angela,” I said. “What can you tell us about your farmhand?”

“Daniel?” she asked. “Him started working for me family about ten years ago. Him should be around here somewhere. You don’t think Daniel did this?”

“It’s too early to be certain,” I said. “But, I need to investigate every possibility. He was here, the axe belongs to him, and he never came running when you screamed. He either is involved or-”

“He’s dead too,” Angela said, nodding.

Thank you for sharing your news and for being our guest this week, DC. We wish you continued success with your writing.

And a BIG thank you to all our readers and visitors. You’re the reason we do what we do.

The Story Behind the Story with Louise Boulter of Moncton, NB, Canada.

Let’s welcome Louise back to the Scribbler. 

It’s been much too long since we have had a chance to talk about her stories.

She has a new novel on the go and it’s generating a lot of excitement.

She’s been a guest before and if you click HERE, you can read about her first novel.

Read on my friends.

 

I was born in Moncton, N.B. where I presently live with my husband and ADHD cat (and on weekends with my son).  I started writing early in life. In Grade 6 or 7, I won a City-wide contest.  It was held by the CNIB and my picture was taken by the local newspaper when I received the monetary prize. When attending College, I wrote the end of the year play for its final assembly. I always loved writing, but life sometimes got in the  way.  I worked for the Federal Government for 35 years and raised my family. However, after retirement, I returned to my first love and took a Creative Writing Course at the local college. We (students) formed a writing group and so began my writing career. Short stories followed. Some were entered in  contests and some published in  magazines. Then I decided to write my first book 'Forgotten'. This was a book about one man's journey through the world of homelessness. Over half the proceeds went  to soup kitchens and shelters. My 2nd book was written from a collection of short stories written through the years.

 

Title: Discovery and Recovery - A Collection of Short Stories

 

Synopsis: The book 'Discovery and Recovery' contains 37 short stories. They cover a range of topics, from humor, to wisdom, hope and nostalgia, taking you on a journey of all the emotions a person experiences in life.

As one reviewer stated:  "Discovery and recovery is a captivating collection of short stories. Each story is a testament to Louise's skillful storytelling. With her insight and empathetic approach Louise provides readers with glimpses into the human experience. A must read for anyone who appreciates well crafted short stories."

 

The Story Behind the Story: As I age, I realize that once I have passed from this world to the next, all my short stories would go where all good computers go. Along with it, so would go my short stories. Therefore I decided to compile some of my favorite short stories and publish them into one book.

Buy Louise's book HERE.

 

A question before you go Louise: 

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Louise: My ideal spot to write is in the basement, where my office is located. I prefer a quiet place, a place where I can get lost in my writing with no distractions. I keep folders of various ideas and thoughts in scribblers. I can't say my office is either messy or neat. It depends on what I am working on. I always have a glass of water on my desk as I don't drink coffee or tea or anything close to tequila. I have found writing 'dialogue' works best when I take out a scribbler and use the old-fashioned way of writing. It just seems easier to give the characters their own unique voice when writing with pen or pencil. Of course, I also keep a scribbler not only in my office but in our livingroom so I am prepared when ideas jump uninvited in my mind and make sure I have a place to jot down all the brilliant ... smile... idea.

An Excerpt: "Discovery and Recovery" from the short story called "Soul Mate"

My soul mate’s hand was warm, so I felt safe letting go for a few minutes. I had calls to make, friends to summon to his bedside. While I sit next to him and speak on the phone to his only living relative, a nurse walks into the room.

“He’s gone,” she says almost in a whisper.

I put down the phone and lift his big hand again.

Cold.

I kiss his forehead then immediately call my husband.

David, my husband, had been supportive for the entirety of the relationship I’d just lost. He wasn’t threatened by Joel, a ninety-one-year-old Holocaust survivor, although he became appropriately alert when I’d announced our first rendezvous fourteen years earlier.

Joel had approached me in the lobby of a community center as I put my baby in a car seat.

“What’s his name?” he had asked.

I summed him up as harmless. I figured he approached strange women and babies because he missed his own grandchildren. But a few more questions revealed how wrong this assumption had been. Joel didn’t have children or grandchildren. All but one of his family members had been killed during the Holocaust.

“I was in the camp,” he said. “Auschwitz."

He had learned to sort the blouses of the dead and to witness a hanging without flinching. Yet his eyes sparkled during our first conversation and he delivered lines like a comedian. The contrast hooked me. I asked him out for a coffee date.

“You buying?” he asked.

And so, for $1.25, a beautiful friendship began.

In the early days of our relationship, we sort of flirted. He’d drive by my house to see if my car was in the driveway. I’d make sure my make-up was right before ringing his doorbell. He would regularly tease David about the potential for romance between us.

“If I was forty years younger, you’d be in trouble,” he said over and over.

I even imagined romantic scenes starring Joel and me, circa 1946. In these fantasies, I played the strong young lady loving the young Polish survivor back to life. I would soothe him after he woke screaming as nightmares of vicious dogs and men shooting at members of his family plagued him. He would be so grateful for my patience and tenderness and eventually take me as his bride. And for the rest of our lives, he would never leave heaps of laundry in the corner of the bedroom or forget every logistical detail I ever told him, as my actual husband did.

I had these fantasies because like most humans, I was conditioned to associate strong attraction with romantic love. I was drawn to Joel, therefore I must have a crush on him, right? He was forty-four years my senior, therefore I had a hard time labelling our bond. I played with all kinds of combinations: grandfather and granddaughter; sister and brother; best friends. None of them fit.

The soul mate, we’ve been taught in our mind, is the brass ring of romantic love. Find your other half and you can start searching for wedding caterers. A soul mate knows you and 'gets' you and will never let you down. Therefore, you should marry him. Don’t.

At least not if you believe in soul mate as a mirror image. An old myth says humans started as four-limbed double creatures, but the gods worried they'd take over, so they decided to split us in half. Ever since, we’ve been searching for our other halves so we can feel complete.

How marriage became part of the equation I’ve never understood. It seems as though marrying your twin would be exactly the wrong thing to do.

For four years, I had dated my psychological echo. At first it was wonderful: so familiar, so comfortable. Then it turned disastrous. Because we were so similar, we made the same mistakes. There was no counterbalance - no one to pull either of us back by the belt loops when we got too close to the edge. Thankfully, we didn’t marry.

My husband and I are not soul mates. We are complete individuals, not two halves of each other. He is science and I am art. He is awake and I am dreaming. He saves and I spend. I’m better at parallel parking, but only he can remember where we left the car. Of course, our differences can sometimes be infuriating, but our pairing has worked for twenty-one years. I like to think it’s because David is my intended: the best husband the universe could have picked for me. A unified soul has nothing to do with it. We balance each other, make each other laugh, and agree on the big things. But he doesn’t get me unless I explain myself because he doesn’t see the world through the same lens. Then I found Joel.

He identified our similarities first. He had tumbled into an anxiety-depression hole that led to many uncomfortable chairs by many institutional beds. He’d been admitted for chest pains, but the doctors and I knew cardiac weakness wasn’t causing his distress. PTSD from four years in the Nazi system was making him sick, but he refused to see or speak to the staff psychologist about treatment. It was my job to convince him to surrender to help. I told him my story. I’d been anxious for years until a case of postpartum depression forced me to face and treat my brain’s chemical inadequacies. I felt fine ever since. Accepting help didn’t have to be shameful.

He looked at me and grinned. We were both nervous. We laughed at the same things. We interpreted the world in the same cynical way, spoke in the same blunt manner, even liked the same foods prepared the same quirky ways. Because he’d been raised in the days of privacy and dignity, our conversations didn’t involve dribbling our vulnerabilities. But we still knew what the other would say or how the other was feeling most of the time. We didn’t have to work at trust and love, or worry either would fade. Neither of us could be described as easy-going, but even after he hung up on me during an argument or I scolded him for being so exceedingly stubborn, we didn’t have to apologize or explain ourselves. It was easy. It was not marriage.

We were, I believe, the purest of soul mates. There was no romance. Just the deep comfort of being seen and known and accepted completely. For a brief period in both of our lives, we got to feel whole.

Then his hand went cold.

What’s it like to lose a soul mate? The saddest part is suspecting such a relationship will never come again. I plan on having my husband around for many more years, and I will surely develop new life-changing friendships. But I don’t think we get more than one soul mate per life cycle. Who else on this earth will ever know me so well?

I used to panic, as Joel got older, about how I’d live in the world without him. But it’s turned out to be surprisingly painless. I take comfort in remembering how lucky I had been to have found my other half. But I also don’t feel like he’s completely absent.

I talk to a lot of dead people in my head, my mother, sisters, brothers, dear friends gone too soon, but never to Joel. This makes sense to me. Following my soul mate theory, to reach him, I only need to talk to myself.

Thanks for sharing the good news about your novel, Louise, and for being our guest this week. We wish you continued success with your writing.

 

Thank you dear readers for visiting and reading. Don’t be shy, leave a comment, please.

The Story Behind the Story with Rhonda Bulmer of Moncton, NB, Canada.

 

The recent launch of Rhonda’s novel was a tremendous success.

Hats off to the marketing pros of Merlin Star Press for generating lots of buzz around their first novel.

None better than the dynamic storytelling from one of the province’s most talented authors.

Let’s welcome Rhonda to the Scribbler.

Read on my friends.

 

 

RHONDA BULMER is a Moncton, New Brunswick-based author with a background in public relations and freelance writing, and currently serves as executive director for the Writers’ Federation of New Brunswick. She has published three fiction books independently, and in 2023, her short fiction appeared in the anthology, Monsters in the Fog, (Partridge Island Publishing). The Widow & the Will (Merlin Star Press, 2024) is her first novel.

 

 

Title: The Widow & The Will

Synopsis: Lindy Hall has begun a promising career in Toronto with her boyfriend, George. When Grandma Runa, her only living relative dies, Lindy receives a shocking bequest—the d’Avray Manor Inn in Harmony Bay on New Brunswick’s Bay of Fundy.

Lindy takes two weeks off to visit the inn. Locals call it The Widow’s Inn, said to be haunted by the grieving widow of its first owner. She finds herself on a collision course with the proprietors, Tony and Anne Allaby. In the face of bankruptcy, Anne is bitter. Lindy is sure the couple is holding something back.

When a handsome tour operator vies for Lindy’s affections, and the ghost of Elizabeth d’Avray visits her, an impatient George urges Lindy to forget it all and come home.

Could Gram’s final wishes and The Widow’s Inn be the keys to unlock Lindy’s mysterious past—and her future?

 

 

The Story Behind the Story: I am interested in family conflict. Nothing can ignite (or worsen) family conflicts more than the final wishes in a will, especially a parent’s will. What they have written down can make heirs feel loved, appreciated, ignored, or hated by the deceased.

My mother comes from a family of 12 children, and Mom was named executor of her own mother’s will (against Mom’s wishes). As a consequence, my grandmother’s stipulations put Mom at odds with her siblings for many years. I always thought it was quite unfair of my grandmother to place my mother in this uncomfortable situation for an extended period – 25 years, in fact. And so, in 2014, I began the initial premise of my book: a will. A young woman from Ontario becomes the sole heir of her grandmother, who leaves her with an inn on the East Coast. Her grandmother charges the heroine with a long-term obligation to those who run the inn, for reasons that are not explained. This big reveal is both cryptic and inconvenient.

In the last ten years, whenever I’ve told anyone the premise of the story I was writing, they enthusiastically volunteered their own family will story. Money – or the lack thereof – seems to bring out the worst in people.

Along with that, I stuffed all my favourite story elements in the same novel: an old neglected historic inn, with an accompanying supernatural presence (my mom likes ghost stories, too), a love triangle, the gorgeous setting of the Bay of Fundy (which I think is one of the most beautiful places in the world) mercurial weather, grouchy, eccentric people, and a big family secret. I didn’t realize I had written a gothic novel, until a publisher who heard my initial pitch in 2019 put that label on it.

As a lifelong New Brunswicker, this book is my love letter to New Brunswick. Throughout my life, many people I’ve known left the province in search of better opportunities elsewhere. However, especially in recent years, I’ve come to the conclusion that with a bit of determination, we can create our own opportunities here.

Inspiration

Websites        

Rhonda – Go HERE.      Merlin Star Press – Go HERE.

                    Buy the book HERE.

 

 

A question before you go, Rhonda:

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?

Rhonda: At home, I like to sit not so much at my desk but on the couch with my laptop, near a sunny window. And I like to listen to baroque cello – or even better, rain noises. I do like sitting at a coffee shop, too. Sometimes a couple of hours of people-watching helps to keep the writing fresh.

I am fifty percent neat. I suppose if it’s too messy at home, I’ll go to the coffee shop so I don’t have to look at it!

An Excerpt from The Widow &The Will:

The wind rose sometime in the night. It whipped around the corner of the house and preceded an abundance of rain. Under normal circumstances, the thrum of water on the windowsill would be comforting, but the bang of the widow’s walk door was more insistent. It opened and slammed shut with every gust of wind from the window. The latch arm clattered against the groove.

Don’t turn your back to the stairway. Looks like something is moving down there in the shadows.

Melinda, stop being ridiculous.

Yeah, okay, Gram. I hear you.

I threw back the patchwork quilt. Maybe grouching out loud would push back the darkness, even if it was all imaginary. “Am I going to have to do this every night?” Tomorrow was my first day in that tiny office and it was important to be fresh.

I opened one of the desk drawers and found a roll of packing tape.

Perfect. I pushed a chair against the door and weighed it down with a couple of old-fashioned hardcover dictionaries from the bookshelf in the corner. Then I tore a few pieces of tape and applied them to the latch.

I stood back to examine my handiwork for a moment. “There. Let’s see you break through that, Mrs. d’Avray.”

I left the light on and climbed back into bed. Comforted by this achievement, my eyes grew heavy, and I drifted away.

In the gentle light of the desk lamp, a woman in a dark linen gown with a white collar appeared at the end of my bed, holding something like a photo in her hand. I pulled myself into a tight ball against the bed frame. I didn’t want her to grab my feet.

Was she looking at me or through me?

A few tendrils of grey-streaked dark hair escaped her bun, and her face was lined not so much with age, but with sorrow. She paced the room before sitting on the edge of my bed. Her shoulders shook as she wept.

“They’re all gone. I’m all alone.”

I heard the words clearly. And I answered her clearly. “I know.

They’re all gone.”

Uncontrollable grief welled up from the centre of my being. Was it hers, or mine? Loneliness for Gram and Gramp swept over me. For the parents I never had. “I’m all alone, too.”

“What does life mean without them?” The widow’s walk door

opened, and moonlight streamed through it. She walked through the door, dropping the photo as she melted into the darkness.

At five o’clock, my eyes snapped open. My pillow was soaked. I’d been crying in my sleep.

Last night’s steady rain gave way to a dull, overcast sky, but the

wind was still blowing. And I shivered, not just from the cold and damp.

That dream…it was a dream, right?

I sat up. Everything was the same as I’d left it—the chair in front of the door, the tape on the latch, and the desk lamp glowed in the daylight. But I could have sworn the door had banged open. And the woman cried at my bedside, and disappeared up the steps.

Not only had I seen her, I’d felt her. I’d shared her emotions. I

understood them because I had the same ones.

Hey, it was only a dream. Snap out of it!

I had a big day of number-crunching ahead, and I couldn’t schlep around indulging my grief-stricken night visions.

I dressed, returned the chair to the desk, and tore the tape off the

latch. In the literal cold light of day, don’t you feel silly? Everything sounded louder in the dark. And who can control what they see in their dreams?

As I turned away, the little door burst open behind me.

It slammed with a loud bang! against the wall.

I shrieked, jumped back and stumbled over the bed. An icy blast of wind hit me in the face. My eyes were locked on the steps, waiting for something to come through. After a minute, I dared stick my head through the doorway. A strong gust of wind whooshed freely throughout the observation deck.

Glass shards were scattered on the tiny staircase. This morning’s

gale had finally broken through the old, cracked window panes, and they crashed to the floor.

There was something else.

Book Launch. April 2024

 Thank you Rhonda for the terrific tale and for being our guest this week. We wish you continued success with your writing.

 And a Humongous thank you to all out visitors and readers.

The Story Behind the Story for the Anthologies - Spring Paths & Summer Paths (coming soon). Sandra Bunting and Chuck Bowie.

 

This week you will read the SBTS from two talented authors who are part of the Seasonal Collective and contributors to the Path Anthologies.

The most recent being Spring Paths.

Both Chuck and Sandra have been guests on the Scribbler before and I encourage you to check them out.

Sandra HERE &  Chuck HERE.

Read on my friends.

 

 

Sandra Bunting is the author of two collections of short stories, two poetry books and a non-fiction book besides having work included in anthologies and literary magazines. She works as an editor at the Irish-based literary magazine Crannog, and offers editing and proofreading of manuscripts through her own Gaelog Press. 

 

Chuck is both a writer and an author, with eleven books/novels published. While he mostly enjoys writing mysteries: Suspense-Thrillers and Cozy Mysteries, he also writes short stories. All of his books are well-reviewed, and he has sat on the boards of the Writers’ Federation of NB, The Writers’ Union of Canada, is a Fellow of the Kingsbrae International Residency for the Arts, as well as being acknowledged as a member of the Miramichi Literary Trail. His thriller series chronicles the adventures of an international thief for hire, while his cozy series (written as Alexa Bowie) follows the adventures of the owner of an arts centre as Emma solves the crimes that swirl around her centre: The Old Manse. 

Chuck lives in Fredericton and on Miramichi Bay.

 

Title: Anthologies.

 

Synopsis from Spring Paths:

Sometimes, a compelling short story is all you need. Let our tales of gods, ghosts, alien worlds, mystery, secrecy, love, loss and horror get under your skin for a while.

Nine North Atlantic writers have collaborated to create this anthology, the third in a series of multi-genre fables that will entertain, possibly unsettle, and cause you to think about the present in which we live.

Curl up on the sofa and allow yourself to be lost in the pages of this fascinating book.

 

The Story Behind the Story

Sandra: One of the most evocative images of summer when I was a child was a blue sky, a meadow full of yellow wildflowers – probably dandelions and buttercups - and a clothesline of pristine white sheets flapping gently in the breeze. We all know that this description is now generally a thing of the past. Dryers are just more convenient in our busy lives. But I wanted to work around the idea of a clothesline. My story in the forthcoming anthology Summer Paths, the fourth in a series put out by The Seasonal Collective, is called Clean Laundry.

Through the story, I wanted to explore several themes. I set it in a rural community and wanted to break the myth that country people were old-fashioned. Technological advances are as prevalent in smaller communities as they are in big cities. However, I wanted to see what could happen if one person moved into the community and tried to change the way things were done.

Reflecting on that theme also brought to mind a memory of being in the company of women when I was a little girl. I remember one time sitting with them in the kitchen as they spoke in horror of “a clothesline thief”.

I usually try to sneak in mention of some issues that I feel passionate about, namely creativity and the environment. I feel that it is vital as a human to in some way be creative. I feel creativity could help answer some of the world’s problems. Another issue is the environment We are so fortunate to live on this beautiful earth but we don’t look after it.

Clean Laundry is a light-hearted homage to summer, which also lights on serious topics that can be contemplated at a later time. How do I weave all these themes together? Enter into summer. Enter into the pages of Clean Laundry.

 

Chuck: When the Spring Paths Melt from Spring Paths.

I had a dream many years ago, where the City of Fredericton flooded. I had gotten a casual job emptying a store basement on Queen St, down by the river during an unusual spring flood. I wondered what would happen if the spring freshet hit at the same time as the Grand Falls, Beechwood and Mactaquac dams all breached. Many years later, I added Climate Change and my recurring dream became a bit of a nightmare.

When I awoke, the simple dream of the entire city being under water became a speculation project for me. Would I have a protagonist? Just one? Would they be starving or scavenging? Scavenging, I thought. Would they die (alone)? Or would there be hope? Would it be a cautionary tale of Man’s foolishness? I didn’t want to do that. Rather, I wanted something immediate, human, and real enough to touch the reader.

I wanted the reader to be in the rowboat with the one who might be the last human in the region.

So that became the story. But I’ve always been as concerned—perhaps even more—with the How of the story. How can my character review their situation, and then summon the will to get out of bed in the morning? What to they do every day; does every minute, like that of ancient man, have to be about scrabbling for food, warmth, and shelter? How do they put one foot in front of the other, in the hope that things will get better, when it probably won’t?

But that’s how the human race managed to survive, isn’t it.

So I wrote a story about a brave young man who hoped that things would get better. He did the little things to engender optimism within his soul. He measured, daily, the height of the water above a specific rooftop. He checked his shoreline every day, placing a rock at the water’s edge and noting where the waterline had previously been. He got out of bed each morning. And he hoped.

Readers sometimes ask me how I make my stories come to life. One of the responses I offer is to explain that I watch the details of my day, and note how the details enrich the story; make it real. Remember how I told of emptying a flooded basement of a downtown shop? I was up to my chest in water, carrying boxes, and I walked past a light switch, three inches above the basement water. And then I looked up at the bare ceiling bulb illuminating my work. And then back to that almost-flooded switch. See? It is those details that add a bit of zest to my stories. Sure, I destroy three dams, but I also place a rock at the waterline. Just to give you hope.

 

Websites.      Sandra    Chuck 

 The Scribbler recently posted the STBT for other contributors to the Anthologies. Check them out if you like.

Angela Wren

Gianetta Murray

S C Eston

Pierre Arseneault

You can get your copy of Spring Paths ( and the others) HERE.

 

Thank you both, for being our guests and sharing your inspiration for the short story contributions to the Anthology. We wish you continued success with your writing journeys.

 

And a HUGE thank you to our dear readers and visitors. We do it all for you.

The Story behind the Story with Tina Lalonde of Ottawa, ON, Canada.

 

 Let’s welcome Tina to the Scribbler.

She is sharing the SBTS for her book and wants to tell us all about it.

Read on my friends.

 

 

 

Hey there and welcome to Done For You Journals. My name is Tina Lalonde. I am an Amazon Publishing Strategist and the owner of Done For You Journals dot com.

I help women in the health and wellness industry such as coaches, counselors, course creators, yoga instructors, and the woo woo’s make passive income creating and self-publishing their own custom branded journal, workbook, or logbook to sell on Amazon for FREE! However, once you learn the process of creating and self-publishing, you will be able to self-publish that book you’ve been procrastinating on. You know the one, it’s on your bucket list😉

 

For those who are curious about me when I’m not working…

·       I play competitive women’s volleyball and Pickleball, while my knees can still take it. lol  If you don’t know what pickleball is, check out Henry Burris on CTV News Ottawa to see what it’s all about.

·       I love to travel to the Caribbean during the winter because well, not a big fan of the cold. My favorite place is St Lucia.

·       My favorite drink is sparkling wine is Segura Viudas Brut Reserva Cava…mmmm soooo good.

·       I live in Ottawa, Ontario with my amazing man who will be referred to as “Bebe”.

·       I like to go second hand shopping, but don’t tell Bebe. He hates when I go there. He says they all have bed bugs. lol

·       I’m a TV show binge watcher. I don’t like to wait for next week. My favorite one is Rizzoli & Isles, and Bosch.

·       Love horseback riding. When the horse gallops, I have this huge smile like a kid.

·       Favorite music is new country, dance music from the year 2000, Socca and I love the song from Shakira “Waka Waka”. I cry every time I hear it.

·       I love playing minute to win it games with my friends. I usually win😉

·       Love to eat ethnic food. My favorite is Vietnamese, then Indian, Thai, and Greek…

·       Like to try new recipes that take less than 30 minutes to make, but I admit I make a mess. So, if you come for dinner, you have to help clean up. Oh and bring BRUT sparkling wine as that’s my favorite.

·       I speak French. Ou est la toilet. Lol. Seriously, I am fluent in French.

·       I did synchronized swimming when I was 10 years old and one 1^st place. I can still hold my breath under water for 45 seconds…maybe 30 seconds now.

·       I wrote 2 books and have a few stories published in other people’s books.

·       I am also working on learning Spanish so that when we retired and travel, I’ll be able to have a conversation.

 

Title: How to Create and Self-Publish Your First Book on Amazon in Less than a Day!

 

Synopsis:  What if I could show you that getting published is not as complicated as people make it out to be, or at least to get on the biggest platform like Amazon!

In this book you will learn the 4 simple things you need to go from dreamer to being published on Amazon!

I’ve been where you are. Wanting to know how to become published, but not sure where to start. Well, this book is a step-by-step instruction for how to create your first book with a project of a journal. Once you get this book project down, the process is the same for any type of book. By the end of reading the book, you WILL be a Published Author on Amazon!

The Story Behind the Story: Have you ever gone to the bookstore like Chapters or Barnes and Nobles and was hoping to find the book you needed? Mine was a book on learning how to rent out your cottage in Canada.  I bought a cottage in 2013 and wanted to rent it out to make extra money when I wasn’t using it.  I loved that little cottage!

I search Chapters, local libraries, and through dozens of online websites and found a few books about owning a cottage, but nothing really on how to rent it, what the rules are, and how to make money from it, where to advertise. After a few months, I didn’t find the book I was looking for.

I really wanted or rather needed to rent my cottage to help pay the mortgage, but the information out there was all over the place and I was getting frustrated.  After doing all the research I thought to myself “if I’m searching for this information, maybe someone else is too?”.  I thought about just creating a website and linking the pages to the rules, where to advertise, etc. so people would be able to find it quickly, but that still meant there was no book out there.  Then, I stumbled on a book that talked about how to get paid for what you know. This gave me the idea to write a book about what I know. And that’s when I decided to write my first book -  Turn Your Cottage Into Money: How to rent your cottage and make a profit in Ontario and Quebec.

However, that was just the first part. Now I needed to learn about getting it published. I searched online on how to publish a book. I didn’t want to go the traditional publishing root because they take longer and they own the rights to my book! Also, they could tell me how to write it and what I could and could not add to the book. No thanks!

I came across a course on creating and self-publish journals and get them on Amazon. I thought “wouldn’t that be the same thing as publishing a book?” I also thought “I am always writing in journals, so why not create my own and make money instead of giving my money away”. So, I signed up to learn about creating journals and self-publishing on Amazon and published my first book in 2003 and then, created my first journal in 2004 and have been creating them for myself and clients ever since. I love creating journals and workbooks! 

 

My goal is to help 1,000 entrepreneurs who have a journal or workbook they want to turn into a book and publish it on Amazon!

 

If you’re a DIY kind of person like me, I create an online course that teaches what’s in the book, plus so much more. I provide templates for the interior and cover. It’s almost like I’m hand holding, but without me being there. My course is called DIY Self-Publishing Bootcamp and you can find it HERE. 

Anyone who messages me to sign up in the next 30 days, I will offer the DIY Self-Publishing Bootcamp to them at 50% OFF, which is $99 (Value $199) plus…they will get a 1 hour coaching session with me (value: priceless).

Quote “ScribblerDIY24”.

Website: Please go HERE.

 

A question before you go, Tina:

 

Scribbler: What is the ideal spot for you when you write your stories? Music in the background or quiet. Coffee or tequila? Messy or neat?



Tina: Wow, well, that’s a good question. When I was first creating the How to book, I would go every morning to Starbucks at 7am on Saturday and Sunday morning because I needed a different space with no distractions. I would order a medium vanilla Bean Latte, sometimes the almond croissant, and I would put a headset on so people wouldn’t talk to me. However, when I needed a break, I would look around and start talking to random strangers. This gave me the distraction I needed, but also the push to get back to work😊

Another way, I love a good glass or 2 of chardonnay or cab sauv wine, and when I need to get shit done, I pour a glass and go up to my office and set a timer for 30 minutes and do the thing I have to do. Sometimes, I have to go back down to fill it again, as I did when writing this bio.

I don’t do well if there’s a lot of people talking, or music because as I’ve gotten older, my brain doesn’t multitask anymore☹. I like seeing people talking or walking, but I need quiet time.



Thank you for being our guest this week, Tina.

We wish you continued success with your writing. 

And a BIG thank you to all out visitors and readers.

Please leave a us a comment. 

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