Friday, March 29, 2024

Quebec - Strife During the Early Years






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European fishermen had long traveled to the west chasing the codfish, which were in high demand in Catholic Europe, especially during Lent. In the course of these sea voyages, they'd long been in contact with the Iroquoian speaking people of Maritime Canada, such as the Mi'Kmaq, and the Wendat, more familiarly called "Huron," or Algonquin. These people lived from the mouth of the St. Lawrence  westward, and, in those days, around the shores of the Great Lakes. These voyaging fishermen--Basques, Portuguese, English-- soon realized that great stores of high quality furs could obtained here, and fur--especially beaver, almost extinct in Europe--quickly became more important than their original  quarry. 


In the 16th Century, when Jacques Cartier sailed down the St. Lawrence, he saw many thriving Huron palisaded villages. By the time of Champlain, these sites had been abandoned and the plains beside the river were empty, except for the seasonal hunting of neighboring tribes and war parties. Perhaps the long war between the Algonquin the Iroquois was the reason that these sites were abandoned, but I believe the real reason was smallpox and the other "new" infectious diseases contact with Europeans brought, which were fatal to these town-dwelling Indians. Cartier treated the native people brutally, even kidnapping prominent members of the same tribes that had had peaceful dealings with him and carrying them back to France. None of these men survived to return. 

Champlain was a wiser man who managed to plant permanent French settlements along the river and to make treaties with the people of Huronia. "Champlain's Dream,"a biography by noted historian David Hackett Fischer, builds a case for this explorer's decent reputation. He, almost alone among "Discoverers,"believed that the native peoples and the French could live together in peace in this land.

His original aim was defeated by practical politics. In order for the French settlers to survive, they were forced to make alliances with his closest neighbors--the Huron and Algonquin. This immediately put him in conflict with the Iroquois, their southern neighbors, and he, and his new weapons became part of ongoing war between these tribes. 



As with all early European settlements, Champlain's ability to supply his colonies was constantly thwarted by the turbulence of European politics. First, there was the Counter-Reformation, which pitted Catholics against Protestants--in this case French Huguenots, who would be massacred and driven out. Second, there was the vicious struggle for power and over royal succession that had wracked the French Court for hundreds years. 

The funding problem accelerated after Henry IV, a believer in religious tolerence and Champlain's patron, was assassinated by a Catholic fanatic. No sooner would a few settlers arrive in this hostile place, too cold for most familiar European crops, than funding and supplies would again dry up, leaving the settlers left to struggle through best they could, all while in the midst of a neverending Indian war.  

Next, another European war got underway. It would take pages to describe who, what, where, and why, but the English tried to seize the St. Lawrence valley and the fisheries on what are now called Newfoundland, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia, islands just beyond the Gulf of the St. Lawrence. 

When Quebec was attacked in 1629 by English privateers named Kirke (licensed to do so by Charles I) the colony, already beleaguered and depending upon friendly Indians for food, was forced to surrender. Champlain got the best terms possible for the citizens of Quebec, but had neither the food nor the gunpowder, shot, and fuses needed to defend the town. (I call these Englishmen privateers, but they behaved like pirates, allowing their men to torture and kill a family of farmers (and their animals!) they found at Cape Tourmente, and to destroy every other small undefended settlement they saw along the Gulf of St. Lawrence.)  

In the end, this English conquest didn't last long as peace was declared between England and France. It took months for the news to reach the New World, but, in the end, Champlain managed to free himself from his captors. He returned in 1633 with three ships and 150 settlers. The year after, four ships with 200 colonists arrived, and in 1635, three hundred immigrants came, although eventually almost half of them returned to France. Still, some of these new Habitants stayed, increased and multiplied, and those determined families are the foundation of French Canada. 

Champlain died in Quebec that winter, on Christmas day in the aftermath of a stroke, but the colony continued to hang on and against all odds--Indian wars, and more periods of dire neglect by the French. Despite everything, Quebec survived. There would be many more twists and turns in the fortunes of French Canada, but the English would not make their final return until the end of the Seven Years War (aka The French & Indian War) in 1763.  


~~Juliet Waldron



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Thursday, March 28, 2024

While You Were Reading (Behind the Curtain AKA an Author's Life) By Connie Vines #insider Author Blog,

 

Those Who Watched Murder She Wrote (television),  As Good As It Gets (1997 movie), or Misery (1990)

Discovered how exciting, unpredictable, and dangerous an author's life can be.

Snort. 

Chuckle. 

Eye-Roll.

I must confess that after an all-night writing binge, I do resemble Jack Nickleson's portrayal of an obsessive-compulsive author: wild-eyed, questionable hairstyle, and talking semi-coherently to myself. 

I have also inadvertently sat on one of my pups, who claimed my seat when I refilled my mug with coffee. Thus, a snarling match was triggered to save me, which resulted in my baptism with semi-hot coffee. 

I encountered a "fan" during a meet-the-author event. She was upset when I asked her name and touched her book. I then proceeded to explain how a book signing event worked. It was touch-and-go for a few seconds but ended well for me. I learned later she'd purchased a second book. (I was autographing paperback copies. And yes, I'd have given her the second book if I'd known she'd desired a pristine copy.)

How does the author's life relate to the story?

When authors write, they are influenced by their past. Gender, race, and socioeconomic status also significantly impact their writing. Therefore, the more you know about the author, the better you can understand the messages central to their work.

We write what we know. 
We write about personal issues that happen in our lives. Everything an author has encountered, from personal relationships to world events, can influence how they present a story.
Questions for the reader:
📌Are your favorite authors like you? Or, are their stories completely opposite to what is familiar?
📌Do you prefer a particular genre? Or will you cross into different genres with your favorite author?
📌Have you ever attended an in-person/ online author event?
📌And lastly, when and where is your favorite time and place to read?
I read in the late afternoon, before dinner time.  I'm seated on the living room sofa, snuggled under an afghan in winter, with a snoring pup beneath each elbow.



Happy Reading,
Connie

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Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Have we lost all sense of etiquette? – by Vijaya Schartz




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Raised in Europe, I remember learning to set a table as a child, and I hated all these useless conventions. Who cared about where the water glass or the wine glass went. How close to the plate, on which side, and in what order the knives, spoons, and forks should go. But knowing it served me well when writing historical stories.



The British still keep many rules of etiquette, from what temperature to serve tea, how to curtsy, or what “fascinator” to wear for each occasion… probably due to the Monarchy.


Japan still honors the “Tea ceremony,” a complicated ritual to make the perfect cup of tea to show appreciation for someone special.

Japan also adheres to a stringent etiquette and applies it to their business dealings. Here, again, maybe it’s a lingering remnant of the Samurai and of the Imperium. Like walking to the left of, and one step behind a superior, a teacher (Martial arts) or a husband (for a woman).

The Samurai cast used to not just bow and obey without question, but they would lay down their lives for the honor of their overlord… even committing Seppuku (ritual suicide) taking the blame to preserve their lord’s honor.

My mom used to say that punctuality was the politeness of the kings, their only way to show respect to others. Ever since, I like to be punctual, if not early for every circumstance. Maybe it’s a sign of self-importance on my part? It makes me feel like royalty.


In the US, however, except for a formal dinner at the White House, etiquette seems to have vanished from daily lives. There used to be a dress code to board a plane. Not anymore.

If I believe the dating sites, not showing up or showing up late for a date is common place. No one seems to care anymore. Is this a lack of respect for others? Or just a sign of the times. Our hectic lives give us all kinds of excuses to skip formalities.

I used to send good wishes to friends and family for the new year, a letter, a card. Now, they are lucky to get an email every other year. Still, some of my friends keep making hand-made cards and sending them in the mail for special occasions. She says she enjoys making them, and it’s like a relaxing hobby.


I feel guilty for not reciprocating, but who has the time? Still, I keep these hand-made cards, like precious relics of a tradition which will soon disappear. You can’t stop progress, but maybe we should sometimes look back and consider what we lost in the bargain.

I use many details of cultural etiquette in my books, even in Science Fiction, even with strong heroines and brave heroes. 


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Happy Reading!

Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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Tuesday, March 26, 2024

The animals in my stories—Tricia McGill

 

You can find all my Books We Love books here on my authors page

Most of my stories have at least one animal, be it a dog, cat or horse. I probably do it without conscious thought. Horses of course are essential in any story set in the past, without them or oxen to assist the pioneers how would most continents have been opened up for the settlers. On going through my backlog of books it even surprised me that almost every one of them contains at least one animal that played a vital part in the plot.

In Mystic Mountains, book one of my Settlers Series, horses and bullocks were essential for assisting the pioneers across large expanses of the Australian bush, and in this case across the Blue Mountains, which was a treacherous journey in the early 1800s. Then there were young Tim’s dogs who were his constant companions. Tim and his dogs appeared again in Distant Mountains, book two in the series and of course there were the much-required horses. In book three, Challenging Mountains, the month-long journey from Bathurst to Melbourne required sturdy horses and then there was Tim again with his trusty dog Bracken. Not so many animals featured in book four, Annie’s Choices, but the dogs and dingoes loved by the natives got a mention.

In The Laird, book one of my Wild Heather series, the Laird’s dogs play an extremely large part in finding the lost Andrew. And in the sequel, Travis, the laird’s ever-present hounds were still around.

Lonely Pride, book one in my Beneath Southern Skies series features Pixie the horse that brings the young lovers together. Sam fell in love with Mac when he let her ride his horse early on in the tale. This story is set in Tasmania so other small creatures such as a platypus crop up now and then. In A Dream for Lani, book two, Lani’s horse Matilda causes conflict with Ryan. Lani also has a poodle named Tootsy. Then there is Ruff, a large shaggy dog owned by the family she becomes friendly with. Leah in Love, book three features a dog Josh that accompanies Leah in her work as a landscape designer.

When Fate Decides, book one in my Challenge the Heart series has Tess who owns Velvet a spaniel, who is her constant companion. In book two, A Heart in Conflict, Georgie adopts a stray dog she names Spot. Book three, Kate’s Dilemma has dogs but not of huge significance to the story line.

My Time-Travel, A Call Through Time, is set in 450 AD, so of course there were horses galore. There were no saddles about, and the bridles were fashioned from plaited leather thongs. Brys had a horse called Arthur, which he had to leave behind in his old life. The men back there in the past respected Brys’s knowledge of horses after he saved one from a bout of colic.

Ah, Amethyst. This one tickled my fancy as it was the sort of menagerie I seem to end up with. Amy has two adopted animals, a dog Jess—a cross between a wombat and a corgi, and her cat Goldie that travels about in the basket at the front of Amy’s bicycle.

In Laurel’s Gift, Laurel becomes the caretaker, then owner of her great aunt’s King Charles spaniel Charlie and the two cats Marmalade & Plum named according to their colours. Hanno, the large dog belonging to Rolf came in close to the end of Powerful Destiny. A terrier sheepdog cross called Peggy got a mention in Crying is for Babies, my story based on my sister’s life. Tiger, the big black dog was a constant in When Destiny Calls and even appears on the cover.

Sweet Bitterness contains another dog called Peggy, a kelpie Jake and a cross breed dog Spike. For the Love of Faith has a dog called Bob and a horse, Matilda, both appearing throughout the tale. A Troubled Heart features Danny Boy, Esther’s horse. And believe it or not the as yet unnamed book I am working on definitely has horses, but expect a dog or two to pop up somewhere along the line, I can’t seem to leave them out.


Just as a footnote, my current companion is a cat of many colours called Mitch, but I have had many dogs, horses and a cat or two over the years and cannot imagine life without at least one of them there to depend on for a smile or companionship.


Monday, March 25, 2024

Ideas for murder mysteries by Joan Havelange

  


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Ideas for a plot can come to an author at any time. Someone’s comment at coffee can lead you down a path. Or a person on a street who is acting in a certain way. An item on the news. Or a past event recalled.

Murder Exit Stage Right is a cozy mystery that comes from my past. I acted and directed in Little Theatre. I find writing a lot like directing; only my characters always show up on time and know their lines. Although sometimes they do go off in a direction, I hadn’t planned.

Acting and directing was fun. Yes, we loved the laughter from our audience and the applause; a standing ovation was great for our egos. But the most fun happened at rehearsals and off stage.

Our little theatre group participated in drama festivals. And I have to brag. We did quite well. In Murder Exit Stage Right, I do use snippets from on-stage and off. Of course, they are exaggerated. And there was no murder. Humour and mystery is what you will get when you dive into my cozy mystery.

Please enjoy a short extract from Murder Exit Stage Right.

Chapter One

The mud-spattered sports car turned into the Community Theatre Hall parking lot. Driving past the front of the hall, the car lights momentarily lit the theatre’s large main doors. Parking the car at the side of the hall, the driver quickly killed the motor. Did anyone see the car lights? Was anyone about? The late-night visitor smirked. It was unlikely. Little prairie towns like Glenhaven Saskatchewan rolled up the sidewalks long before midnight. But one could never be too careful. The black-clad figure closed the car door, shivering in the cool night air. It was April, and although the calendar officially proclaimed, the first day of spring had arrived. Winter on the prairies didn’t give up so easily. Flashlight in hand, the prowler quietly crept up to the side of the hall, shoes crunching on the frozen gravel.

The intruder came prepared with a set of burglar tools bought off the internet but didn’t need them. It was ridiculously easy to open the old side door. The interloper chuckled; who would ever want to break into this old hall? The renovated theatre held nothing of value except for the midnight caller.

Once inside, the trespasser found the light switch and flicked the lights on. Another bonus, the theatre had no windows. The lights were startling after the darkness. The intruder waited until their eyes adjusted, looking around the old hall, marvelling at Glenhaven’s excellent job renovating the old movie theatre. The screen was long gone. But the sloped floor remained, and the ancient theatre seats looked newly upholstered. Heavy new burgundy curtains hung open, revealing the renovations had continued to the stage. New theatre footlights and the floor of the stage looked new as well. The old theatre was ready for the one-act drama festival to be held the following week. To the left of the stage was a set of stairs. The black-clad figure quickly ascended the three wooden steps that led to the stage, paused, and grinned. Glenhaven had restored the old movie theatre to its former glory, but the town must have run out of money.

Flimsy flats flanked the stage. There were two openings in the black painted wallboard, one on each side of the stage. The backdrop was a badly painted window on muslin. The stage was set for the Glenhaven Players. Stage left, a faded flowered loveseat that had seen better days. A green throw cushion hung precariously on the arm; a small oval-shaped coffee table sat in front of the settee. Stage right at the back of the stage, a brown cabinet made from chipboard, a blue and white vase crammed full of various plastic flowers set on top of the cabinet. The intruder’s eyes sparkled with amusement. What a shabby set, as shabby as the Glenhaven Players. The midnight visitor chuckled and exited stage right; it was time to leave a little surprise.

 

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