Elaine Cougler is the award-winning author of historical novels about the lives of settlers in the Thirteen Colonies who remained loyal to Britain during the American Revolution. She uses the backdrop of the conflict for page-turning fictional tales where the main characters face torn loyalties, danger, and personal conflicts. Her Loyalist trilogy comprises The Loyalist’s Wife, The Loyalist’s Luck and The Loyalist Legacy, all available on Amazon, Kobo, and Audible. Her latest book is The Loyalist’s Daughter, the prequel to her Loyalist trilogy.
Elaine also wrote the Amazon #1 Bestseller The Man Behind the Marathons: How Ron Calhoun Helped Terry Fox and Other Heroes Make Millions for Charity. Byron native, Ronald G. Calhoun, was the chair of the Canadian Cancer Society team who managed the Marathon of Hope, Terry Fox’s run in 1980. Ron also managed the Jesse’s Journey walk across Ontario and later across Canada, as well as Steve Fonyo’s Journey for Lives and the blind Ken McColm’s Incredible Journey across Canada. Ron’s honours are many and well deserved. Elaine is delighted and humbled to be the author of this important book, a different kind of Canadian history.
Elaine leads writing workshops and speaks about her books to many groups. Through her website she blogs about the writing and reading world and more. She lives in Ontario with her husband. They have two grown children.
Links:
Elaine can be found on YouTube and LinkedIn and through the following links: @ElaineCougler www.elainecougler.com http://www.facebook.com/ElaineCouglerAuthor
I’m hoping, however, that all of you authors out there, shy or not, can find a way to get in front of audiences who will perhaps buy your books. The personal touch is so helpful for reaching readers.
To that end I have updated my own Speaker Sheet and it is in the process of being updated on this website. (The Media Sheet will be next, just so you know.) For now, here is the new Speaker Sheet.
Take a good look at what is included. I’ve started with introducing myself and my books. Then you see a lovely testimonial. When I only had 1 book I had room for more testimonials! I wanted to suggest where I could speak and what I might speak about. A couple of pictures as I really am, the first my head shot and the second me while recording one of my audio books, mean people recognize me when I arrive to speak. Finally, the contact info, all colourfully introduced with a graphic.
Notice that I’ve used my first and last name instead of a pen name. I’ve chosen to be me on my writing journey and I see no reason to put a different name on books of different genres as some authors do. That’s an author’s choice.
For my first book, The Loyalist’s Wife, my cover designer suggested I might like to have a Speaker Sheet and a Media Sheet. I had no idea what they were but when she explained I was on board. What do I use them for?
Uses for Speaker and/or Media sheets for your books.
Attach a copy when you approach groups about speaking for them.
Attach a copy when you reach out to media reps to help tweak their interest in doing a story about and/or with you.
Run a few copies for your table when you’re out anywhere selling books. People love to have something to peruse.
If people call or email you about their book club or other personal selling opportunity, make sure you send them your speaker sheet, your media sheet and your introduction for them to use.
Along with these sheets offer to tailor make presentation speeches according to their group’s needs and wishes.
Don’t be afraid to add something that will make your sheet and you stand out. I used the story of my mother’s book and the photo of me recording. These make a person seem real.
How to Make Up Your Speaker and/or Media sheets.
For both my Speaker and Media sheets, my husband and I work together. I mostly tell him what I want on the sheet. He has the software to create it and together we discuss every aspect of the product, making changes until we like the result. If you hate the computer, find someone to do this for you. Go to a printer with your thoughts and ask them to set it up for you. Make sure you like the end product and, if you don’t, ask for revisions.
One final note. The term One Sheet seems to be used to do this as well so you might research that.
Once you have your sheet ready, I’m sure you’ll find lots of uses for it. You can use actual copies to pass out in person or make your final file into a pdf and attach it to appropriate emails. If you send out a pdf it’s harder to copy with someone else’s info. Protect yourself.
For Canada: Brave New World, my seventh book, I strayed from my usual format. I wrote a number of the stories myself but put out a call for others’ stories because of the nature of the book. Getting first-hand stories was very important to me and I’m very glad I took the road I did. Getting right into the words and voices of so many of the stories really shows how individual human beings can be. That adds to the overall book.
When I decided to to do an audio book, offering the submitters the chance to read parts of their own stories just seemed natural. I especially liked the story partly read in Rudy Zimmer’s German accent as it so accentuated the whole topic of Rudy’s submission. That decision gave my technician and me a lot more work. It also slowed the process of recording but I’m delighted we did it.
As with all of the tasks in my writing/publishing journey, I choose which things to do myself and which to hire out to professionals. In the small city where I live I found a small recording studio where I could learn from the owner/technician how to do my own recordings. I had the courage to do this as one librarian where I had spoken told me that the group I had read to as part of my presentation decided they would be happy to have me read the whole book. I guess those years as a performing English teacher paid off! With Jack London’s help, I went down the recording road.
Jack is a singer and recording artist so is well-versed in the how-tos of recording. That was and is invaluable to me. He has a sound proof room where I wear a headset, listen to his instructions, and his telling me we have to do a part over again. Together we get a great recording. He prepares all the chapters or separate stories and I then take a flash drive for him to transfer them to for me to take home. I have an account with ACX which is the back end of Audible and I upload the files there. Then ACX approves the files that are satisfactory to them and points out any parts which have a problem. Jack looks after making sure the files are perfect as that is his forte.
Once we get the go-ahead from ACX the files are ready for Audible and in a few days the audio book is listed for sale on Audible. I am given a number of free codes for me to send out to people in order for them to get a free copy. This helps get the book into customers’ hands. My newsletter recipients all have the chance to get one of these codes. (If you forgot to get yours for this book, email me.)
The audio book is also listed as one of the book format choices on Amazon. I love that aspect of using Amazon.
If you are wanting to do an audiobook of your own book there are several ways of doing it. Hire someone through ACX/Audible. You will have to have an agreement of how you pay them, either by a percentage of sales or by paying their bill. I pay Jack London Studios for the tech stuff so when I get my payments for audio book sales it all comes to me.
Another way of doing your audio book is to work with a professional who helps you get the correct recording setup right in your own house. My daughter, Beth Cougler Blom, did that for her book Design to Engage and was very pleased with the process her professional led her through.
Why would an author go through all of this work?
The web is full of articles about the reasons to listen to audio books. My husband and I have used audio books borrowed from our local library for our car trips. We choose something we both want to hear and listen for up to an hour at a time as we travel south to the US or west through Canada’s Rockies or east through Quebec and into the Atlantic provinces. I am told that people who drive long distances for a living love audio books and that makes sense to me.
Here is a site I found that gives loads of reasons to listen to audio books. One friend even told me she listens while she is doing her vacuuming. As you can see there are dozens and dozens of reasons to turn on an audio book.
So for us authors this is just another way of getting our stories and our thoughts and words out to the world. I hope you pick up some of my audio books and have a listen. And I especially encourage you to do an audio book of your own books!
My writing career found me when I was well on in my life. I had taught high school English, French and Computers, spent some time as an Assistant Head of English, brought student musicals to my high school, met many amazing people both in the classroom and the staff room, all the while with my husband raising two lively children. As John Denver said in one of his songs “It’s been a good life all in all” and I wouldn’t change it.
One of the reasons I liked teaching high school was that for the most part I was judged by my scholarship, my problem solving abilities, and by the quality of my teaching. I judged myself by the progress made by my students and by my relationships in the classroom, in the staff room, and in the rest of my life. Being a teacher was not just my day job at the school but also how I led my life as a bit of a role model in the community.
There was still some of that inherent sexism in the system but I found when I pushed back in a reasoned and coherent way, being a woman was not a hindrance to me. There was the great principal who called me into his office because a parent had complained about a couple of mild swear words I had allowed a Grade 13 student to use in a personal essay. (Yes, we had grade 13 back then!) I explained to the principal that the students in that class were 18 or 19 years old and the student had used the swear words in dialogue to show who his character was. It was totally appropriate. Dick agreed. He always listened to me and treated me as though I had a brain in my head.
Another time with a female vice principal I took a stand. That turned out a little differently. First thing in the morning I got an On Call slip in my mailbox asking me to take an absent Phys. Ed. teacher’s class. Fine. I read further on the slip. I was supposed to supervise in the gym as the students practised their moves on the gymnastics equipment. I had no training for that. I knew it was actually dangerous for me to supervise in the gym, both for me and for the students. There had been a well-publicized case about this very thing happening and students being injured. The teacher was blamed and punished.
I popped into the vice principal’s office and explained I would not be able to do that. Instead I would take the students to an empty classroom and let them work on homework. After much talking back and forth, the VP told me that my first responsibility was to my job and I did not have the right to refuse this class. I told her that my first responsibility was to myself as a person, then to my family, and thirdly to my job. She was not happy. I did not take the students to the gym but to another classroom where they could work on homework. I had listened to my own brain and stood up for what I knew was right.
As a teacher, every day I smiled as I welcomed my students into my classroom, dealt with questions and comments a few might have as they arrived and got the class started. My philosophy was to be in a good mood in order to make the learning environment pleasant. If I had had a rough start to my day with my own teenagers or some other blip in the timetable, once the class arrived, I learned to ‘fake it until I would make it’. I put a smile on my face and in no time I was happy again and giving the students the atmosphere they deserved from me. That has been a lifelong thing of mine. With this philosophy it is amazing how short a time it takes to actually be happy.
So how does all of this relate to my writing career?
These anecdotes are life experiences. They are things the like of which happen to all of us and they give us the experiences that make us who we are. They also provide details to draw on in our writing. Write about what we know, the writing teachers say, and these experiences are the kind of things that show us how to write the scenes, create the dialogue and imagine our characters’ actions because we can see and hear them in our heads. Experience teaches us what we did right and what we did wrong. How many times have I said that next time I’ll do better?
I taught for 25 years and left the profession at the age of 52. My husband and I were ready to move on to new things. He took a job or two in his skills area and I found a lot of creative things to explore. I learned pottery and loved it but finally gave it up when I had no more friends and family to gift with my creations. Then I decided quilting was something I needed to learn. I started with a giant one for our king-size bed. (A typical Elaine action. Ha ha.) Loved it but how many quilts did I actually need?
All my life I have been a singer so I joyfully carried on with that. I sang in three wonderful choirs (at different times) and got really excited about writing my own music. Those songs reflected what was going on in my life and still do as I sing them at my piano. Right now I am working on recording a few of them before my voice completely gives up. (More on that in the weeks to come.)
When I was 60 my son asked me if there was anything that I wished I had done over my life. Immediately “Write a novel!” popped out of my mouth. Of course, I had always loved reading and writing but had never stepped up to getting published. The time had come. A week later I walked into a Borders store in Hilton Head, South Carolina and bought a book. How to Write and Sell Your First Novel. I was off and running.
My confidence gained over the trial and error method during the previous years of my life had prepared me for traversing the author trail. I went to conferences, writing groups, book clubs, and other writing oriented groups. I learned all I could. I asked questions everywhere I went. And I loved it all. Finally I felt I had a book to put out there. That took me to query letters. Yes, I wrote hundreds of them and mostly heard nothing. One agent asked to see my whole manuscript and then promptly told me the first 100 pages were crap.
I could have stopped then.
Instead I kept going. I hired an editor, kept learning in all the ways I could and changed my thinking just a little. From my time in 4-H clubs in my teen years, I pulled up the motto.Learn to do by doing. I kept doing. And learning. Finally, after 6 years, dozens of bookish events across the continent, and lots of working my way through this journey, I started my own publishing company, Peache House Press. I hired out the things I needed to and learned myself the things that were in my realm of possibilities. In June of 2013, The Loyalist’s Wife was ready.
That was almost 11 years ago. Eight books in total to this point. It’s been a wonderful ride and I’ve met hundreds of amazing people along the way. I found the thing that speaks to my soul–writing. May each of you find your own dream, whatever it might be. And still, when I come up with a way to express something that makes me just smile as I roll the words over my tongue, I get my reward. Here’s one that I used in Canada: Brave New World when it launched last June.
“I am somewhat sad that this book could not contain all the stories from the vast number of new and older Canadians. The more I compiled stories and talked to people abut the book, the more stories I heard about. Of course, I could not possibly use all of them. Just know that the stories here are but a sampling of what is Canada’s history, a quick dip into our refreshing Canadian waters.”
I loved that last phrase for its originality and its connection to our Canadian geography. It led directly into the first story, one I wrote from my time teaching English as a Second Language to young Vietnamese escapees at the end of the war in Vietnam. I guess I was writing what I knew!
This week I’ve been spending time thinking about how I want 2024 to shape up. We’ve celebrated New Years after all–well, I slept through it!–and our thoughts go to counting up our joys of the past year and making plans for the new year. I want to take my talks and my books out to even more audiences. I want to find those people who love reading and learning as much as I do. And I want to share the things I’ve learned over the last seventeen years and my eight published books.
Why, you might ask. Here are a few of my thoughts on the matter.
1. Talking to others helps me to connect. I always learn something new. Most people are pleasant and easy to like but I’ve had occasion to meet some others. A saying I’m fond of using in my own head goes like this. “I don’t like that person. I’ve got to get to know them better.” And sure enough, when I take the time to engage people, I invariably have found a new friend and am happier for it.
2. Finding my writing passion in the second part of my life has been like the Grand Finale we used to do in the figure skating carnival when I was a kid. After all the individual numbers and all the applause we received, we would use the whole ice to skate the Grand Finale. Wearing our various costumes we’d start in a single line and skate the length of the ice. We’d then divide into two lines at the far end and perform dozens of intricate moves as though we were parading for the audience. I loved being chosen to lead one of the lines and took great joy in performing the moves as best I could. The skating I did for myself was lovely but the formations we made as a group were spectacular. Being a writer is like that. Writing for myself is wonderful but sharing my words with the world brings smiles to my face and happy tears to my eyes.
3. I am a teacher at heart. My twenty-five years teaching French, Spanish, English and Computer Studies to thousands of teenagers taught me a lot, and I am grateful for it all. Well, maybe not for the few bad things that happened along the way! Here are photos from a library talk I gave when preparing for the Authors and History Cruise I was invited on, and from the actual cruise. Involving my audience is crucial in my sessions and I’ve learned more and more about how to do that with adults.
4. Having a table with books on hand is always a good idea. I put it right at the front and make it the centre of my talk. Usually I’m featuring one of my books, like the last one I published–Maggie--with its unique story of how it came about 25 years after my mother’s death. With Maggie I can talk about my grandmother’s time (born in 1890), the effects of the German Kaiser’s actions in starting WWI on my mother’s family, how my grandmother chose to flout society’s rules for women in the twenties and thirties, and the importance of music in my family through the generations. This last can lead to discussions of school curriculum and the decline of music and art programs over the last years.
5. Talking to other authors is always a joy as we share common goals and some of the same problems. When I go to writing conferences, I always go up and meet the presenters afterwards. Then I go home and write about my experiences. Finally, I send each of those presenters an email with a link to the positive things I’ve written about them on my writing blog. Almost always this works well and I’ve made a new friend. In Vancouver one year I did this and one of the presenters took me to task in the comments after the blog post. She was totally off base and I recalled that she had said that her way of getting attention was to force people to argue with her online. That is totally wrong in my world. What could I do about this nastiness on my blog? I decided to remove my lovely post about her entirely. That took her hurtful comment off as well. Sometimes we just need to be in control.
6. Some of the places I’ve spoken are unique and some can be found in every town. The first place I was asked to go was to a Probus club meeting in my home city just after my first book launch. Speaking to a group of all men was not really a challenge as I had grown up with nine brothers. When I started speaking, however, I had to think quickly. There I was at the podium at one side of the stage and beginning my talk. A man got up from the audience and marched up to the blackboard, did something with the chalk, then turned and went back to his seat. I went on. A couple of minutes later, he did it again. I had been introduced as a former teacher. Never at a loss for words, especially if I could get a laugh, I stopped, looked at the man and said, “There’s one in every class!” The room erupted and the man stayed in his seat after that. Humour can work very well but it’s important to have the audience on your side.
7. Make friends with your local librarian. That person might ask you to speak, chose one of your books for their book club, and be a fountain of answers to questions about historical facts to any writing how-to books they have or to how to get your books on the library’s affiliated book program. Above, Susan had created a display with two of my books. She and the other staff have been great to have me speak there. I don’t do what some authors do–giving copies of my books to local libraries–but I do keep in touch with them. Libraries are as important as they’ve ever been and perhaps more important. In Canada we have a program where, if you sign up, there is payment once a year for your books being chosen by library customers. It is called Public Lending Right and I’m a member.
I’ve given you some insights into my writing life and I hope you’ve learned something new. If your group or organization is looking for a speaker please contact me via this website. I create my talks so that they fit the group I’m attending and use my books to complement any topic you might like.
Happy New Year!
PS. Sorry for all the pictures of me in this post!
A couple of years ago I had the absolute pleasure of publishing My Story, My Song, a book about the first twenty years of my life. I wrote about growing up in the heart of Ontario farmlands in this huge country we now call Canada. I told about my nine brothers and my three sisters, my mother and father and all of us at one time or another enjoying the green fields and yellow corn, the apple trees and the hilly tree, the cows and the pigs and the chickens and the geese and also about some of the adventures we shared in that idyllic place.
Today I want to wish my readers a wonderful holiday season, whatever your ways of celebrating it might be. Do you mention Sinterklaas, Black Peter, Father Christmas, St. Nicholas, Fjøsnissen, Santa Claus, or other gift-giving magical people at this time of year? Do you bake delicious cakes and bundts? Do you sing with joy and tell holiday stories? It doesn’t matter. Celebrate how you like, who you like and eat what you like. Just celebrate.
Here is an excerpt from My Story, My Song to get you in the mood.
I had new jammies. Mom finished them just in time for Christmas Eve. They were pink with little white bunnies all over them. I held the pants up to my cheek. Ooh, so soft. Mom pulled my dress up over my head but left my undershirt on. It had a little white bow on the front.
She buttoned the pajama top all the way down my front and helped me pull on the bottoms. “Run to the bathroom,” she said and patted my bum to hurry me up. When I came back she had Glen’s diaper all pinned and was pulling up his rubber pants. He had new jammies, too, but not as cute as mine. His were kind of brown with cowboys and horses on them. They swung their ropes over their heads. Not nearly as nice as my bunnies.
The big boys dressed in their own room that had two huge beds and two huge dressers for their clothes. They even had a closet to walk into and hang their Sunday clothes up. Sometimes they used it for playing cowboys and Indians. With a chair on the floor blocking the door, it could be a jail. Doug was always putting the younger ones in there.
“Bring your stockings down now,” Mom called from the kitchen. She had Glen with her. I didn’t know how she could carry him on her hip but she did, even as big as he was. I ran downstairs and the older boys soon followed. We all had our Christmas stockings. Mine matched my jammies. On the kitchen table Daddy had a black wire hanger and some clothespins. He fastened the older boys’ socks to the hanger with them.
Doug joked that he had the biggest one. He was right. It was a grey wool barn sock with two red stripes and a red toe. The other boys had their Sunday socks. Glen and I had the new Christmas stockings Mom had made to match our jammies. We didn’t need clothespins. She had made a tie to pull tight at the top and we watched Daddy loop them to the hanger.
Finally, all were fastened. Daddy hung the hanger on the small nail on the cellar door. The stockings were all ready for Santa Claus.
“Where’s Daddy’s stocking?” Wayne wanted to know.
Mom and Daddy looked at each other. “I forgot,” Daddy said. “Just a minute.” He rushed into the bedroom just off the kitchen and came back with a huge grey barn sock, with red stripes just like Doug’s. He took another clothespin and pinned it in the middle of the others. Mom said she didn’t want to ask Santa for too much for our house so she would not hang her stocking. Doug had a smirk on his face as if he knew something secret. She gave him a cross look. She sent us all upstairs to snuggle into bed. She said she’d be up in a minute or two.
It was Christmas Eve so both Mom and Daddy came up to tuck us into bed. Glen settled down with his bottle in the crib in my room and I snuggled into my big bed but I had no thoughts of sleep. “Where will Santa park his sleigh, Mom?” We didn’t have a fireplace, just a big grey stove in the living room and a huge one in the kitchen. I had looked them both over very carefully. Santa would land in the fire if he tried to come down through the stove pipes. And he was too fat and jolly to make it anyway.
“He’s magic. And he only comes to children who are asleep, so close your eyes and see if you can be first to get to sleep.” She kissed me and patted my hair and I tried to keep my eyes closed. I didn’t know how I’d sleep but I could keep my eyes closed and pretend I was sleeping. That would have to do. Daddy came in and patted my head. Soon all I could hear was Glen sucking on his bottle. I wondered if he would drop it on the floor like he usually did.
“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” Ross was shouting. “Wake up, everybody. Time to check our stockings.” Glen started to cry and knocked the baby bottle out on the linoleum floor. From My Story, My Song by Elaine Cougler.
Another Christmas memory is my coming up with “Doin’ the Christmas Thing”. I was happily baking the Christmas cake for my family, using my Grandmother’s recipe, and thinking what a great time this would be with our two kids, their significant others, and our extended family. Suddenly I started to sing. “Oh, I’m doin’ the Christmas thing, doin’ the wonderful Christmas thing.” The tune just popped into my head right along with the words. I dropped the mixing spoon and ran to the piano, grabbed some staff paper and a pencil and jotted down the notes and words I had so far. I ran back to the kitchen, did some more mixing and got the cake into the pans. Back to the piano I ran and wrote out the next words I had. Then back to the kitchen–the oven was ready–and I popped the pans into the oven.
The rest of that day I kept thinking up verses and making changes until I was satisfied. I even remembered not to burn the cake! The next day I was singing at the Christmas meeting of the UCW at church. I told the ladies the story and sang my new song unaccompanied because I didn’t have the accompaniment finished yet. They were delighted and I was as happy as I had ever been.
Here’s the printed music. Feel free to print it out and sing it yourself.
This year, think back to your own holiday memories and maybe jot some of them down. What were the songs you sang? Were candles a big part of the fun? How about special people? Are some of them living only in your memories now? Why not bring them to life with tales of fun as kids or even as adults?
We need our memories and our children and grandchildren need them, too. If you, like me, are a word person, take the chance to write your memories. After Christmas this year I am going to start to record some of the many songs I’ve written over the years. I do this to leave parts of myself for those I love. It’s going to be quite a bit of work practising the singing, getting my voice back in shape, deciding on the exact harmonies on the songs I’ve kind of changed and doing the actual recordings in my friend Jack’s studio.
Do you have a special gift you can give to your friend, your offspring, or–if you’re braver than I–to the world? Give some joy this holiday season. Perhaps it will last several lifetimes.
My mother birthed and raised thirteen children, enjoyed a very good marriage with our father, volunteered so much that, as an adult, I nicknamed her Valerie Volunteer, and got her first real paying job in her sixties. She was a force who, when she died over twenty-five years ago, had her obituary written up in the newspaper for all she had done in her community and her life.
She loved to read and had shelves upon shelves of lovely hardcover books. She hounded all of her children to use correct grammar and loved to see good marks in English and language skills on our report cards. I knew that she wrote her own speeches to all the community organizations she led and I even remembered her writing rhyming poems in honour of young couples at their community presentations and other such events. The night I heard her speech as the new candidate for provincial election I was mesmerized. That night I realized whether she won or lost, the important thing was her being nominated to run. Yes, she was a force.
When my mother died our huge village church was filled to bursting, the centre rows reserved for mom’s many children, their spouses, her grandchildren and even some great grandchildren, and the rest of the building upstairs and down overflowing with friends, neighbours and acquaintances who came to pay her their heartfelt respects.
I always loved her but I didn’t always appreciate her. She could be unfair, or so I thought as a kid the day she refused to take me shopping with her when I’d tried to sneak out the front door after she called my name. I had to stay home that day and miss the treat she had planned for me. I realize now that she gave me more than I ever knew with lessons such as that.
In the couple of years before she died, I had encouraged her to write a book. My father was gone, she was alone and I suggested she might find writing her own novel very interesting and enjoyable. She started, and I got the first couple of pages to correct her typing. By this time she had lost her centre vision and could only see with peripheral vision. That made her touch typing skills crucial. I was ready to correct more pages but before we could do that she passed away. I got hold of the large brown envelope full of typed pages. It was titled Maggie and I thought it was fiction. I carefully saved it as a treasured remembrance of my mother.
A number of months ago in chatting with my daughter, she reminded me that this November would have been her grandma’s one hundredth birthday. We talked about celebrating because Grandma and Beth had talked 25 years ago about celebrating their November birthdays together, but Grandma didn’t make it. She died that summer in her 75th year. During this conversation with Beth I remembered Mom’s story that had sat in my files–oh, I knew exactly where it was–for all those years. What if I were to get it out and publish whatever it was for the family?
That was the plan. I started reading and before long I realized this wasn’t fiction at all. Maggie. My grandmother’s name was Margaret but she had always been called Maggie when she was younger. This was my grandmother’s story from the time she was about four years old up to and including her marriage, her children, and just who she had been. It also detailed Grandma’s broken marriage, a subject that we had never discussed as I was growing up. And now, in these pages, Mom was telling it.
But she had never finished the story and I spent months ruminating about just how I could publish Maggie. After lots of discussions with family and writing friends I decided to leave it in Mom’s voice and insert my own voice where the story wasn’t finished. I think it works and the big advantage was that it was still Mom’s story. So for Mom’s one hundredth birthday on November 7th, I launched the cover reveal above. That is Mom at five years old, Alice Doxey at the time, the Lingelbach church east of Stratford where her family went, and lots of musical images because her family was very musical, a trait that has been passed down through the generations. The red is for my grandmother because she loved colour. Not for her the black dresses that women of her day wore as soon as they got married. This red is for my memory of Grandma buying some bright red taffeta and having a dress made out of it. It also occurs to me that perhaps I know where my own strong-willed personality comes from. Thank you, Grandma.
The book is available now on Kobo and Kindle. It’s launching on December 2 and if you’re nearby please come. Crossing my fingers the print copies will be in my hands by then. It will be in print on Amazon by then as well.
Over seventeen years ago I answered my son’s challenge to me during a conversation we were having about my having reached yet another decade. He asked me if there was anything that I wished I had done that I hadn’t up to that point.
“Write a novel!”
The words seemed to pop out of my mouth on their own. Oh, I had always loved words and word pictures and the flavour and feel of words coming out of my mouth and off the ends of my fingers on my computer. And I had sat on my back porch and read the last page of Listen For The Singing by Canadian author Jean Little. My tears had fallen at the absolutely amazing story the blind Ms. Little had put out into the world. I remember wishing and wishing that I could write like that.
I had, however, never really gone any further along the road to writing seriously. I was a retired English teacher and had spent the last few years doing other creative things: taking pottery lessons until I had nowhere else to gift my creations, learning to paint in acrylics until my walls and other people’s walls were covered, and writing about thirty songs until my muse left me.
Then Kevin challenged me by putting that idea in my head. The next week my husband and I were in Hilton Head SC where I went into the local Borders store and bought a book. How to Write and Sell Your First Novel became my go to book. I did something I never did. I underlined in red ink and wrote notes in the margin. I ate up that book, loving the learning as I munched.
And then I put it down. The author got into how to sell the book and other related chapters. Like any new writer, I figured I needed to actually have a book before thinking about selling it. Well, I know different now, but at that point I put the wonderful book back on the shelf and started to write.
I created characters, gave them life, researched the American Revolutionary War, and worked out how ordinary people would be affected by that famous war. And those people became extraordinary. Little did I know I had found the theme that jumps out from every book I’ve written.
This writing journey touches my heart. I get to meet all manner of people as I go to conventions, writers’ meetings, speaking gigs and even going about my everyday life. In this world where our media seems to be obsessed with showing what is sad or shocking or heart-breaking, I have realized that I can create stories and write about people who have risen to the occasion when horrible things happen to them. I can draw characters who, like all of us, have some negative parts in their makeup but who can rise up and become the people they need–and want–to be when the circumstances warrant it.
My Loyalist books (four of them) are historical fiction so there is a mix of real and fictional people in them. My biographical books (including my anthology) are about real people who have done unbelievable things in unimaginable circumstances. And I find that, in spite of the media choice to show only the negative in most cases, people can still be amazing. And that is what keeps me going. Well, that and talking to all kinds of people as I research for the next book!
Wednesday my guy and I took a flying trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake and the Shaw Festival. Well, actually we drove down for a short walk along the main street, a stop at the bakery for some sweet stuff, and a one-hour theatre presentation at the Shaw. Our tickets were for 12 noon, a strange time to be going to the theatre, and they were outside at the BMO Stage on the south side of the property.
We were the first through the gate when they took away the rope and opened up. We chose to sit in the front row and soon were joined by a lot of others. I read through the small program and realized I knew just about all of the twenty some songs. This was going to be wonderful. Every one of those titles brought back memories for me of singing duets with my mother and solos all over the place in the days when every meeting and evening event was sure to have someone performing. Mom and I and my siblings sang for our supper on many a night. I loved it.
It was a cool, cloudy day and we were glad to have brought our jackets. Sandals were not appropriate either but luckily we had anticipated the weather. I was a little apprehensive as we’ve been to a few events lately that were less than enjoyable. We saw a stage play where the actors didn’t seem to realize they should project their voices, face the audience and help the audience know what they were saying. That is their main, well maybe their only job! We saw actors sit and talk to each other as though they were in their own kitchen and there wasn’t a huge audience who had paid money to hear the play. And we missed most of what they were saying.
This day, however, my husband and I were overjoyed. From the first notes sung by professionals who knew their business, we were captivated. I felt my lips moving with the words but, luckily, I didn’t sing out loud even though I wanted to. What a display of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s talents. We all jumped to our feet to reward the actors with a well-deserved standing ovation and every face was smiling as we filed out.
This all made me think again about how important music has been in my life and in the lives of so many of my friends and family. When I am down, music almost always lifts me up. I sit at the piano and go through the songbooks there picking and playing and singing whatever takes my fancy. And when I rise to go back to the rest of my life, my heart is happy and I smile through the rest of my day.
Recently I received a wonderful surprise that is related to this. One day many years ago a few of us Garners got together in the church where we grew up and we recorded a few things, the most exciting for me being my mother and I singing a wonderful duet arrangement of The Lord is My Shepherd. We thought this recording had been lost but a friend found it in his stuff from one of my (now deceased) brothers and gave it to me. Yes, it was ours and, even more thrilling, that duet is on it. I am working on getting it cleaned up and will give copies to my family members. It is amazing to hear our mother’s voice after all these years that she has been gone. I’ll put it on YouTube when we get it arranged in the best way possible.
So I guess the huge part music has had in my life is pretty obvious. It all makes me think of the cutting out of music and theatre courses in schools that has been happening for many years. With the emphasis on STEM subjects (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) a lot of boards have chosen to cut out the arts. This breaks my heart for personal reasons but it also ignores the part played by the arts in our world.
In the well-rounded communities that we strive to create there should be room for the arts as well as STEM subjects. And people should be exposed to it all so that they can chose their well-rounded life paths in an informed way. I think how thin my life would be if I had never been exposed to singing in all its many forms. I would never have sung The Holy City as a member of the Woodstock Choralaires soprano section with Dr. Burt-Gerrans directing and tears running down my face, or been part of two other choirs in this community. I would never have directed my own church choir or received 90 marks in the local music festival at the age of thirteen. And I probably would never have written any of the thirty songs I have to my credit. (Here is a recording of me singing a song I wrote for my mother and performed for my great friends’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.)
The music is always what reaches inside me and tugs at my soul. Without it, I would never have got the highest mark in the local music festival. I would never have chosen my mother to sing at my wedding or been asked by my son to sing at his wedding. And I might never have sat down, sad, at my piano, sung my heart out, and stood up a new and happier person.
Because I am an artsy person, my mind and my whole life have been filled with joy through words and notes. And that concert at the Shaw Festival just served to remind me of that fact once again. For me it’s always a grand night or day for singing.
Oh. By the way, I once memorized all of the elements on the Periodic Table and that was great. It has not, however, been a huge part of my life. Music and wonderful words have been.
Today I welcome to my blog the author Marie Gage whose passion for writing family stories for future generations matches my own. My newly launched anthology, Canada: Brave New World , fits right in with Marie’s thoughts below.
Marie Gage’s writing is inspired by real people, whether dead or alive. She is a passionate researcher, intent on using all available resources to make the story come to life. The weaving of fact and fiction to create stories that are both believable and inspiring is her forté. The passion she develops for her characters adds depth and life to the story.
Marie’s most recent novels were inspired by real stories from her ancestral research. Missing information caused her to blend fact and fiction, following the true path of the story whenever possible. Both stories tap pieces of Canadian history and bring to life the times in which they are set.
Here are Marie’s words on the subject:
When I was growing up I heard bits and pieces of family folklore. “Your grandfather was a footman at Buckingham Palace,” “Your grandfather missed the Titanic,” “Your grandfather stole a canoe and, with two other men, escaped from somewhere north.” The grandfather I knew was a blind gentleman who called his male friends sterling chaps. He wasn’t an adventurer and never spoke of the great adventure that was his transition from England to Canada. Mind you I was only 7 when he died, so I was too young to have asked many questions. But I wish someone had!
Wind the clock forward a few decades and my curiosity about this family folklore budded and opened, becoming a bit of an obsession. I had to know the truth. Fortunately for me my grandfather left an artifact behind that pointed me in the right direction. It was a journal of a trip in a stolen canoe. I’d read it when I was younger but could not find the places he named on any map. It made no sense, so I stowed it away.
One day when I was cleaning out files in preparation for a big move, I stumbled upon the journal. This time there was the magic of google maps to help me locate his starting point: Port Nelson. It turned out that Port Nelson is now a ghost town on the shores of Hudson Bay. I continued plotting the junctions he named in the journal and realized he had canoed 600 kilometres from Hudson Bay to the north end of Lake Winnipeg, to get away from ‘the company’. I had to figure out why he was there and why he felt he had to escape.
What I discovered was an adventure, tragedy and love story that became my debut novel ‘A Ring of Promises.’ It’s too long a story to relay in this blog but the point I am trying to make is there are many important stories hidden away in the history of our families that we will never uncover. Pieces have been lost in the sands of time and can never be reclaimed. I call on every reader of this blog to document the stories of their lives in some form to prevent the loss of your family history.
Your story doesn’t need to be made into a novel; it doesn’t even need to be written. Find a recording device and tell the story in whatever way you can. Have someone interview you to get the details. It doesn’t matter how it is documented, only that it will be there for future generations to enjoy and reap the benefits of. Your life may not seem exciting to you but as times change and the world evolves it will likely be, at the very least, interesting for your descendants. It will convey to them a great deal about where they have come from and who they really are.
I marvel at the fortitude of my ancestors and am proud to know what they endured so that I would be able to lead the life I now enjoy. If you need some help getting started sign up for my blog and you’ll receive a free instruction booklet on how to structure a Family History Interview. Don’t wait until you are too old to remember the details. Do your descendants a favour and begin today. Not only will your descendants be happy to have whatever you create, your life will be enriched as you explore your past and realize what you have achieved or learned.
I have not been good about following my own advice. So, I am making a commitment to publish one prompt per month on my blog that will help readers begin their own journey. And I intend to follow that prompt and create my own life stories, for the benefit of my own family. If you want to follow along sign up for my blog … I look forward to hearing about our progress.
Thanks so much to Marie for these words. I hope many of you will take her up on her offer.
Remember to write a book review for one of my books or Marie’s books, if you haven’t done it yet. They help immensely.
A few days ago I launched my newest book, number seven. I tried something different this time–an anthology. Canada: Brave New World was shipped to me three days before the launch and all was well. Whew! I breathed quite a few sighs of relief but then went on to thinking of the journey to get to that point. Perhaps other writers might like to create an anthology themselves and, if so, maybe hearing about my journey would be useful. A writer friend of mine offered to host a how-to article on her site. I was off and running.