Those who have known me for awhile may be aware that I was once a Correctional Officer. Today I received a ‘memory’ notification on Facebook, dating back to September 28, 2013. This was my last day at working at Kingston Penitentiary. The prison closed for good just a few days later, on September 30th.
Built in 1835, Kingston Pen (or KP) was one of the oldest continuously operating prisons in the world. Today it’s a major tourist attraction, our version of Alcatraz, and plenty of movies and television shows have been filmed there. I often see shots from KP in popular movies.
However, no movie scene, or guided tour can ever recapture the true ambience of an active prison. I wrote and posted this tribute below on the day that heavy steel door slammed shut behind me for good.
Today, I closed the door on 178 years of history. I’ve been part of the last thirteen years of those. As I drive away from the walled fortress for the last time, ghosts appear in my rearview mirror. No, not the spirits of the countless who perished behind those walls; these phantoms are memories. Memories of things I’ve witnessed and been part of. Incidents and characters too many to name. Some hilarious, others mundane, many terrifying and tragic; a large segment just plain bizarre. Enough ghosts for a lifetime. Goodbye KP . . . it’s been quite a ride!
Looking up at the ‘Dome’ inside KP.
The school and workshop area. Note the staircase, it’s made of limestone
Both of my parents are first generation immigrants from the Netherlands. They moved to Canada as small children with their families just after WWII. I grew up in a community of Dutch Immigrants, most, if not all, the older adults had been through the war. For the most part, no one spoke about it, at least not to me, and I never asked. I think that even as a child I sensed the topic was too painful.
My Grandfather passed before I was born, and my Grandmother lived in the front section of our large farmhouse. Whenever a thunderstorm rolled in, she would stay in our half until it was over. Those storms frightened her so bad. My Mom always said that it was due to the severity of the storms in the Netherlands, and I never openly questioned her on that. However, I sometimes wonder if those thunderclaps sounded a bit too close to the booms of dropping bombs.
My Dad once told me that his family used to hide Jews on their farm. One day, they got word that German soldiers were making the rounds and would be at their place soon. I’ve never learned anymore details about the story, other than what’s written here. He would have been just a toddler, so I’m sure that this information was handed down from my Grandparents or one of his older siblings. It’s unclear as to how many guests, or the exact scenario that led to the decision to use the following means to keep them safe.
So, here goes. Before the Germans arrived, they hid the guests inside large haystacks. They must have been very large stacks indeed, because the German soldiers jabbed their bayonets into them. Thankfully, the blades never reached anyone hiding inside. No doubt, the family must have breathed a collective sigh when the soldiers moved off. If the Jews had been found, everyone would have been shot on sight.
As I got older, my fascination with this era grew. After all, it’s a large piece of my family history that’s been forever blackened out.
When I heard about this book, I knew that it was going to reach the top of my TBR in short order.
What Amazon Says:
The German occupation of the Netherlands brings with it food shortages, harsh treatment for resistants and deportation of Jews. The changes dramatically affect Rosamond Jansen’s life on her family’s farm on the outskirts of Huizen. When she finds herself under constant surveillance and oppressive treatment in her government typist job and the Nazis deport her best friend, her resentment turns to fear and a deepening hatred. Verbal cruelty, belittlement and emotional turmoil take their toll on her until a man arrives at the farm who, along with her uncle from Amsterdam, enlist her father into resistance work. When her father does not return home, Rosamond, too, is drawn into resistance activity. As more people disappear from her life, her involvement goes deeper, bringing her to a villa in Huizen where a woman named Madelief has a secret. As Rosamond becomes close to Madelief and the secret is revealed, her life starts to unravel.
Based on actual events at the villa, The Girl from Huizen tells the story of how Rosamond, working with Madelief, dared to defy the SS and their collaborators. But this is no ordinary Resistance versus Nazi story, rather it is a story of a shocking and unexpected unfolding where flames of tension ignite the page, as loss and grief consume and drive the girl from Huizen. It is a powerful story about the trusting friendship between two women. Ultimately The Girl from Huizen is a homage to the brave resistance members who risked everything to fight against Nazi oppression. Their efforts saved thousands upon thousands of lives.
My Thoughts:
The courage and selfless sacrifices of many of those who lived in occupied Netherlands is adroitly portrayed in this page-turner. Rosamond Jansen is a typical teenager who’s forced to grow up way too fast after Hitler’s armies roll into her home country. An ordinary girl facing extraordinary circumstances.
This book is exemplary in recreating flesh and bone history. The “go it alone” superheroes are in absentia. Everyone must work together, doing their part; motivated by both personal justifications and collective goals.
Rosamond tires of eating potatoes everyday and hates the invaders. She squares off against sheer terror, the desire for revenge, and the person in the mirror. She turns bitterness into action that saves many, while clinging to the hope of someday.
This is a refreshing tribute to the helpers in our world. A reminder that no matter what, there are always those who are willing to put everything on the line and stand up to tyranny.
Kudos to Paulette for her flawless delivery.
I highly recommend this book for those who wish to find the roses among the ruins.
Meet Paulette and check out her books: (Please note that the link option is being glitchy. Her books are available on Amazon.)
Paulette Mahurin is an award winning international best selling literary fiction and historical fiction novelist. She lives with her husband Terry and two dogs, Max and Bella, in Ventura County, California. She grew up in West Los Angeles and attended UCLA, where she received a Master’s Degree in Science.
Today I have the pleasure of hosting prehistoric fiction author, Jacqui Murray. I’m excited about the release of her latest novel, Natural Selection, which is book #3 in her Dawn of Humanity series. I’ve read and highly recommend the first in this trilogy, Born in a TreacherousTime!
In this post, she’ll tell you about the latest release, but first, please check out the list of actual criticisms and tips that Jacqui’s gleaned from Twitter.
12 Writing Tips and 9 Criticisms I Got from Twitter Those of you who are either established authors, in-training, or anything in between, you probably already know the learning curve to become a writer is steep and endless. I’ve read a ton of how-to books, attended more than my share of conferences, and currently meet with fellow writers twice a month to discuss our passion. In each of these situations, no matter how often I attend, I learn something new. It will surprise none of you that I also find epiphanies in social media. Some streams offer one person’s insight on a chronic problem I also have. Others answer questions I couldn’t put into words enough to ask.
Here are some of the best writing tips I’ve gathered from social media the past year:
Get over your perfectionist tendencies.
If you’re having trouble meeting the minimum word count, it’s probably because you’re not being specific enough.
Keep a notebook with you at all times, and write in it. A lot.
Don’t compare yourself to other authors. Find your unique voice and write your stories.
If your story idea involves zombies, it probably has been done already.
If your scene sounds too much like a TV show or movie you’ve seen, cut it!
Writing’s hard. Good writing is even harder.
To uncover the plot of your story, don’t ask what should happen; ask what should go wrong.
Don’t let your dumb show.
Perfect is the enemy of good.
There are those who can make a $75 off-the-rack outfit look hand-tailored. Not true in writing. You can’t turn a bad novel into a good one by attaching a pretty cover.
Boldly go where other writers won’t.
Criticism:
To share the criticism I’ve received, I broadened the scope from social media to query letter responses, agents at writer’s conferences, Amazon comments, beta readers, and well-meaning friends:
What this story lacked in ambiance, it didn’t make up for with anything else.
From a trusted beta reader whose day job is doctoring: “I find you have idiopathic thinking.” When I asked what that was, she explained, “It’s thinking of unknown origin. In other words: What the f*** were you saying?”
From an agent who rejected my novel: I was whelmed.
About a too-complicated story I submitted: A bridge too far and a euphemism too short.
You promised a world-class thriller. I got a rerun of Fantasy Island.
“Why the h*** did you waste my time?” Sorry. Autocorrect. I meant to say, “Thank you for the submittal.”
I asked one agent for suggestions on fixing my story. Her response: “I got nothin’.”
“You wrote your MC right into a corner and she couldn’t escape, like a defective Roomba.”
“Nothin’ to see there.”
Have you found any great tips on your favorite social media?
Here’s a brief summary of Natural Selection. In this conclusion to Lucy’s journey, she and her tribe leave their good home to rescue former-tribe members captured by the enemy. Lucy’s tribe includes a mix of species–a Canis, a Homotherium, and different iterations of early man. In this book, more join and some die, but that is the nature of prehistoric life, where survival depends on a combination of our developing intellect and our inexhaustible will to live. Each species brings unique skills to this task. Based on true events.
Set 1.8 million years ago in Africa, Lucy and her tribe struggle against the harsh reality of a world ruled by nature, where predators stalk them and a violent new species of man threatens to destroy their world. Only by changing can they prevail. If you ever wondered how earliest man survived but couldn’t get through the academic discussions, this book is for you. Prepare to see this violent and beautiful world in a way you never imagined.
A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
One Pack Ends, Another Begins
Africa The Canis’ packmates were all dead, each crumpled in a smeared puddle of blood, Upright killing sticks embedded where they should never be. His body shook, but he remembered his training. The killers’ scent filled the air. If they saw him—heard him—they would come for him, too, and he must survive. He was the last of his pack.
He padded quietly through the bodies, paused at his mate, broken, eyes open, tongue out, pup under her chest, his head crushed. A moan slipped from his muzzle and spread around him. He swallowed what remained in his mouth. Without a pack, silence was his only protection. He knew to be quiet, but today, now, failed.
To his horror, a departing Upright looked back, face covered in Canis blood, meaty shreds dripping from his mouth, the body of a dead pup slung over his shoulder. The Canis sank into the brittle grass and froze. The Upright scanned the massacre, saw the Canis’ lifeless body, thought him dead like the rest of the decimated pack. Satisfied, he turned away and rushed after his departing tribe. The Canis waited until the Upright was out of sight before cautiously rising and backing away from the onslaught, eyes on the vanished predators in case they changed their minds.
And fell.
He had planned to descend into the gully behind him. Sun’s shadows were already covering it in darkness which would hide him for the night, but he had gauged his position wrong. Suddenly, earth disappeared beneath his huge paws. He tried to scrabble to solid ground, but his weight and size worked against him and he tumbled down the steep slope. The loose gravel made gripping impossible, but he dug his claws in anyway, whining once when his shoulder slammed into a rock, and again when his head bounced off a tree stump. Pain tore through his ear as flesh ripped, dangling in shreds as it slapped the ground. He kept his legs as close as possible to his body and head tucked, thankful this hill ended in a flat field, not a river.
Or a cliff.
When it finally leveled out, he scrambled to his paws, managed to ignore the white-hot spikes shrieking through his head as he spread his legs wide. Blood wafted across his muzzle. He didn’t realize it was his until the tart globs dripped down his face and plopped to the ground beneath his quaking chest. The injured animal odor, raw flesh and fresh blood, drew predators. In a pack, his mate would purge it by licking the wound. She would pronounce him Ragged-ear, the survivor.
Ragged-ear is a strong name. A good one.
He panted, tail sweeping side to side, and his indomitable spirit re-emerged.
I live.
But no one else in his pack did.
Except, maybe, the female called White-streak. She often traveled alone, even when told not to. If she was away during the raid, she may have escaped. He would find her. Together, they would start over.
Ragged-ear shook, dislodging the grit and twigs from his now-grungy fur. That done, he sniffed out White-streak’s odor, discovered she had also descended here. His injuries forced him to limp and blood dripping from his tattered ear obstructed his sight. He stumbled trying to leap over a crack and fell into the fissure. Fire shot through his shoulder, exploded up his neck and down his chest. Normally, that jump was easy. He clambered up its crumbling far wall, breaking several of his yellowed claws.
All of that he ignored because it didn’t matter to his goal.
Daylight came and went as he followed White-streak, out of a forest onto dry savannah that was nothing like his homeland.
Why did she go here?
He embraced the tenderness that pulsed throughout his usually-limber body. It kept him angry and that made him vicious. He picked his way across streams stepping carefully on smooth stones, their damp surfaces slippery from the recent heavy rain, ignoring whoever hammered with a sharp rock inside his head. His thinking was fuzzy, but he didn’t slow. Survival was more important than comfort, or rest.
Ragged-ear stopped abruptly, nose up, sniffing. What had alerted him? Chest pounding, breathing shallow, he studied the forest that blocked his path, seeking anything that shouldn’t be there.
But the throbbing in his head made him miss Megantereon.
Ragged-ear padded forward, slowly, toward the first tree, leaving only the lightest of trails, the voice of Mother in his head.
Yes, your fur color matches the dry stalks, but the grass sways when you move. That gives away your location so always pay attention.
His hackles stiffened and he snarled, out of instinct, not because he saw Megantereon. Its shadowy hiding place was too dark for Ragged-ear’s still-fuzzy thinking. The She-cat should have waited for Ragged-ear to come closer, but she was hungry, or eager, or some other reason, and sprang. Her distance gave the Canis time to back pedal, protecting his soft underbelly from her attack. Ragged-ear was expert at escaping, but his stomach spasmed and he lurched to a stop with a yowl of pain. Megantereon’s next leap would land her on Ragged-ear, but to the Canis’ surprise, the She-cat staggered to a stop, and then howled.
While she had been stalking Ragged-ear, a giant Snake had been stalking her. When she prepared her death leap, Snake dropped to her back and began to wrap itself around her chest. With massive coils the size of Megantereon’s leg, trying to squirm away did no good.
Ragged-ear tried to run, but his legs buckled. Megantereon didn’t care because she now fought a rival that always won. The She-cat’s wails grew softer and then silent. Ragged-ear tasted her death as he dragged himself into a hole at the base of an old tree, as far as possible from scavengers who would be drawn to the feast.
He awoke with Sun’s light, tried to stand, but his legs again folded. Ragged-ear remained in the hole, eyes closed, curled around himself to protect his vulnerable stomach, his tail tickling his nose, comforting.
He survived the Upright’s assault because they deemed him dead. He would not allow them to be right.
Sun came and went. Ragged-ear consumed anything he could find, even eggs, offal, and long-dead carcasses his pack normally avoided. His legs improved until he could chase rats, fat round ground birds, and moles, a welcome addition to his diet. Sometimes, he vomited what he ate and swallowed it again. The day came he once again set out after what remained of his pack, his pace more sluggish than prior to the attack, but quick enough for safety.
Ragged-ear picked up the female’s scent again and tracked her to another den. He slept there for the night and repeated his hunt the next day and the next. When he couldn’t find her trace, instinct drove him and memories of the dying howls of his pack, from the adults who trusted their Alpha Ragged-ear to protect them to the whelps who didn’t understand the presence of evil in their bright world.
Everywhere he traveled, when he crossed paths with an Upright, it was their final battle.
Interested? Find out how you can grab your copies of this series and come meet Jacqui!
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular prehistoric fiction saga, Man vs. Nature which explores seminal events in man’s evolution one trilogy at a time. She is also author of the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers and Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. Her non-fiction includes over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, reviews as an Amazon Vine Voice, a columnist for NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics.
Book information: Title and author: Natural Selection by Jacqui Murray Series: Book 3 in the Dawn of Humanity series Genre: Prehistoric fiction Editor: Anneli Purchase
First off I want to start out by saying we had crazy weather last evening. I’m talking a major snowstorm and a thunderstorm at the same time! It’s called ‘Thundersnow’ and this is the first time I’ve personally witnessed it. Nothing like the sight of a blizzard backdropped by flashes of lightning, let me tell you.
But now I’m moving on to discuss a place that never sees snow, and a story that will nest in your heart forever.
Interested? Please read on!
Here’s the Gist:
In this commercial fiction novel with an historical backdrop, The Sons and Daughters of Toussaint, Isaac Breda seeks to renew the revolution of his famous forefather, Toussaint Louverture. He is depressed that a revolution which had so much potential, and which had cost so much, seemed to have so little to show for it. He resolves to start a non-violent revolution to make their freedom real. In the first half of the novel, the story is told by alternating chapters between historical sections, telling the story of Toussaint and his compatriots, and contemporary sections, where Isaac seeks to renew Toussaint’s spirit in his people. Isaac’s story intersects with that of his best friend’s beautiful sister, Marie-Noëlle. At first she is mainly focused on moving to the United States and making her fame and fortune in modeling. But her character develops into a powerful agent of change herself. When Isaac dies at the hands of entrenched interests in Haiti, the revolution falls on her shoulders. The immense challenge transforms both her and her country.
My Thoughts:
When I was a kid, my dad went to Haiti several times to help with a number of construction projects. While he often told me stories about his experiences, two things stick out in my memory. The photos of treeless and eroding mountainsides, with small shanties built at their bases, and the resilience of the people.
This is exactly what I found on the pages of this inspiring novel. A nation that has struggled to gain a foothold in the climb towards democracy, despite being under constant assault by dictators, gangs, and natural disasters.
Madsen paints a vivid and accurate picture of the trials and triumphs of a land under constant pressure, and it starts with the historical revolution led by Toussaint Louverture. As a student of history, I appreciated the switching perspectives between Toussaint’s day and the twenty-first century revolution led by Isaac. Bravery in the face of tremendous danger is realistically tempered with the protagonist’s bouts of self doubt and discouragement.
Buoyed by the courageous support of the people, his closest allies, and the love of his life, Marie-Noelle, Isaac finds the strength to face the monsters. With an eye towards changing the national political landscape and Haiti’s global reputation, Isaac learns to savour the smaller victories. One scene depicts him standing beside a litter free river that had once been choked with garbage. The locals had banded together for the clean up. He smiles even though his ultimate goal remains distant.
But this is about more than just one man, and the hearts of the people continue to beat strongly long after he’s gone. Marie continues what Isaac began as she lives up to the bold statement, “Nou pa pè!”
Meet Keith:
I am a retired minister, living in East Wenatchee, Wa., who teaches chess to children, works for AmeriCorps, teaching about the Opioid Pandemic, AND writing fiction!
I hope you’re all doing well on this Sunday morning at the tail end of summer. Yesterday, we did our annual apple picking road trip with a side of pumpkin harvesting. I can already smell ghosts of future apple crisp and pumpkin pie baking in the oven.
But from the post’s title, you can see that I’m not here to talk about pie. So, let’s get started, shall we?
What’s it About?
Amoret, Texas, 1982. Life along the border is harsh, but in a world where cultures work together to carve a living from the desert landscape, Blaine Beckett lives a life of isolation. A transplanted Boston intellectual, for twenty years locals have viewed him as a snob, a misanthrope, an outsider. He seems content to stand apart until one night when he vanishes into thin air amid signs of foul play.
Noah Grady, the town doctor, is a charming and popular good ol’ boy. He’s also a keeper of secrets, both the town’s and his own. He watches from afar as the mystery of Blaine’s disappearance unravels and rumors fly. Were the incipient cartels responsible? Was it a local with a grudge? Or did Blaine himself orchestrate his own disappearance? Then the unthinkable happens, and Noah begins to realize he’s considered a suspect.
Paced like a lit fuse and full of dizzying plot twists, The Bones of Amoret is a riveting whodunit that will keep you guessing all the way to its shocking conclusion.
My take:
The entire book is written in first person, Noah’s, with a folksy, “come sit on the porch for a spell,” narration. I found it quite appealing, almost endearing, in fact.
In his late eighties at the telling, Noah is a man conflicted and remorseful about the past . . . the moral fiber of his character is subjective, which for me, made him all the more realistic. Personally, I think he’s a man with good intentions, but things just often got out of hand.
As the blurb suggests, there are some great plot twists, none of which I found to be “edge of your seat”, but well orchestrated with a bit of, “Gotcha!”
The writing style was river rock smooth, with plenty of creative slang that brought a smile.
I’d recommend this book to those who enjoy a good mystery under the backdrop of ‘Big sky’ country.
Meet Arthur:
Arthur Herbert was born and raised in small town Texas. He worked on offshore oil rigs, as a bartender, a landscaper at a trailer park, and as a social worker before going to medical school. He chose to do a residency in general surgery, followed by a fellowship in critical care and trauma surgery. For the last eighteen years, he’s worked as a trauma and burn surgeon, operating on all ages of injured patients. He continues to run a thriving practice.
His second novel, The Bones of Amoret, is set to be released on April 1, 2022 through Stitched Smile Publishers.
Arthur currently lives in New Orleans, with his wife Amy and their dogs. Arthur loves hearing from readers, so don’t hesitate to email him at arthur@arthurherbertwriter.com.
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