"Broken Talkers", the Maliseet, by Diane Scott Lewis

The second First Nation's people of New Brunswick, Canada, that I included in my novel, On a Stormy Primeval Shore, were the Maliseet:

 

This tribe is Algonquian speaking, called Wolastoqiyik or "People of the Beautiful River"; but the Mi'kmaq (showcased in a previous blog) named them "Maliseet" or broken talkers because their language sounded like a broken version of their own.

Maliseet making camp, c. 1864, Canadian Encyclopedia

Indigenous to the Saint John River Valley, Maine, and Quebec's St. Lawrence River, the Maliseet fished and hunted these areas for thousands of years. They considered the Mi'kmaq their allies. Eventually the Maliseet turned to farming as well. They lived in wigwams in walled villages. They made tools out of wood, stone, and ceramics. Canoes, weapons and eating utensils were also created. The Maliseet have a rich cultural history, similar to the Mi'kmaq, such as decorating clothing and baskets with painted porcupine quills.

The Maliseet bands were governed by one or more chiefs who sat on tribal councils with representatives from each family.

Drums played an important part in their ceremonies and united their communities.

When the European settlers arrived, first the French in the 1600s, then the British in the 1700s, the natives has their agricultural territory on the river confiscated, and they were pushed to the less fertile parts of the country. In the nineteenth century, they were sent to Reserves, but later filed land claims to recoup their losses; some were successful.

While the Europeans tried to convert the natives to Christianity, many clung to their original beliefs. "Smudging" -- the burning of sweetgrass to cleanse the spirit -- is one. Their Creator, Gici Niwaskw, is not assigned a gender. The Creator formed the entire world, but taming the landscape is performed by the cultural hero, Gluskabe.

Gabriel Acquin, Maliseet hunter, c. 1866: Canadian Encyclopedia

Today their distinctive language is fading out, but efforts are being made to preserve their language and culture.

 

Source: Canadian Encyclopedia

 

To purchase On a Stormy Primeval Shore or my other novels at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

Apple Peels and Snails to Snare a Husband by Diane Scott Lewis

My Canadian Brides novel turns on a betrothal gone wrong. To celebrate May, I leave Canada and travel to England, and the serious search for a mate in the eighteenth century.

Folklore abounds in the villages of England around the single girl’s search for a husband—as in the eighteenth century marriage was what most young women had to look forward to, or they’d be ridiculed and regulated to spinsters, farmed out as governesses, or forced to live on the charity of their family.

Most of these search-for-true-love customs revolved around the seasons.

At the ruined Abbey of Cerne Abbas in Dorsetshire, girls flocked around the wishing-well in all seasons. To obtain their heart’s desire, they’d pluck a leaf from a nearby laurel bush, make a cup of it, dip this in the well, then turn and face the church. The girl would then “wish” for presumably a man she already has in mind, but must keep this wish a secret or it wouldn’t come true.

Other customs included, in Somersetshire on May Day Eve or St. John’s Eve, a lass putting a snail on a pewter plate. As the snail slithered across the plate it would mark out the future husband’s initials.

On another ritual to this end, writer Daniel Defoe remarked by saying: “I hope that the next twenty-ninth of June, which is St. John the Baptist’s Day, I shall not see the pastures adjacent to the metropolis thronged as they were the last year with well-dressed young ladies crawling up and down upon their knees as if they were a parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously after a coal under the root of a plantain to put under their heads that night that they may dream who should be their husbands.”

Throwing an apple peel over the left shoulder was also employed in the hopes the paring would fall into the shape of the future husband’s initials. When done on St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the girls would recite the following rhyme as they tossed the peel: St. Simon and St. Jude, on you I intrude, By this paring I hold to discover, without any delay please tell me this day, the first letter of him, my true lover.

 On St. John’s Eve, his flower, the St. John’s Wort, would be hung over doors and windows to keep off evil spirits, and the girls who weren’t off searching for snails in the pastures, would be preparing the dumb cake. Two girls made the cake, two baked it, and two broke it. A third person would put the cake pieces under the pillows of the other six. This entire ritual must be performed in dead silence-or it would fail. The girls would then go to bed to dream of their future husbands.

On the eve of St. Mary Magdalene’s Day, a spring of rosemary would be dipped into a mixture of wine, rum, gin, vinegar, and water. The girls, who must be under twenty-one, fastened the sprigs to their gowns, drink three sips of the concoction, then would go to sleep in silence and dream of future husbands.

At All Hallows Eve, a girl going out alone might meet her true lover. One tale has it that a young servant-maid who went out for this purpose encountered her master coming home from market instead of a single boy. She ran home to tell her mistress, who was already ill. The mistress implored the maid to be kind to her children, then this wife died. Later on, the master did marry his serving-maid.

Myths and customs were long a part of village life when it came to match-making.

In my novel, On a Stormy Primeval shore, which takes place in eighteenth-century Canada, Amelia is slated to wed one man (a match made by her father), but refuses him, and through no effort of her own, the perfect man comes along in the guise of Gilbert, an Acadian trader. A bear is involved...

A short blurb:

In 1784, Amelia sails to New Brunswick, a land overrun by Loyalists escaping the American Revolution, to marry a soldier whom she rejects. Acadian Gilbert fights to preserve his heritage and property—will they find love when events seek to destroy them?
 

To purchase On a Stormy Primeval Shore or my other novels at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

Source: English Country Life in the Eighteenth Century, by Rosamond Bayne-Powell, 1935.

Earthquake of ice in New Brunswick by Diane Scott Lewis

Spring, April, is a month to savor, especially after a long cold winter. In New Brunswick, Canada, the setting for my novel, On a Stormy Primeval Shore, the rivers, which have frozen solid, start to break up, the ice melting. The event is so powerful, people have described it like an earthquake.

All winter the rivers freeze solid and people travel by sled, sleighs and toboggans. With today's warming temperatures, sometimes the ice breaks up as early as March, causing floods, and roaring ice jams, which puts life and land in danger well before people are prepared. In the eighteenth century it was both a blessing (spring has arrived) and a curse (treacherous ice jams and floods). The settlers faced many challenges.

Excerpt from my novel when Amelia, a young Englishwoman, is about to meet her love's (Gilbert) Acadian mother. Here, she first experiences the breaking up of one of the rivers:

Amelia smoothed her hair with nervous fingers as Gilbert escorted her and Louise in a cart to a hamlet of houses and a gristmill. The Kennebecasis River was mostly frozen, a gleaming ribbon in the weak sunlight. The mill wheel was stilled in the ice. They approached a cedar-shingled, log home where smoke drifted from the chimney.

The ground started to quake, and a great cracking sound rent the air.

“Mercy, what is that?” Amelia asked, pulse skipping. She fidgeted to retain balance. Louise hunched close, staring at her feet as if they might fly out from under her.

“Only the ice breaking up in the mountains.” Gilbert chuckled, laying a warm hand on her shoulder. “It happens every spring, and is late this year.”

“Then I must get used to it.” Amelia laughed to disguise her amazement. He opened the door and she was anxious to leave the wind and any cracking ice, though cautious of what lay ahead.

Kennebecasis River Valley

 

To purchase On a Stormy Primeval Shore or my other novels at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

The Mi'kmaq of New Brunswick

In my research for my novel set in New Brunswick, I came across the two main native tribes that lived there. I touched briefly on them in On a Stormy Primeval Shore, but they deserve a more in-depth introduction.

First, the Mi'kmaq people. Known as one of the original settlers of the Atlantic provinces, oral history (and archeological discoveries) suggest the Mi'kmaq have been in eastern Canada for over 10,000 years. The name is thought to mean "one of high ability." Other sources say it means "my friends." They refer to themselves as First Nations.

The men hunted and fished, and went to war to protect their families. Women tended the children, gathered herbs, and built the traditional wigwam. These homes are made of wood covered in birch bark. The people lived in villages, usually near water sources.
Men wore breechcloths (a skimpy garment that covered their privates) and leggings. The women wore tunics, long skirts and a peaked hat. They decorate their clothing with dyed porcupine quills, a skill they are famous for.

Traditional quill box

 
Chanting is another tradition, consisting of vocables (broken syllables) that express emotion rather than words with meaning. The Mi'kmaq language is part of the Wabanaki cluster of Eastern Algonquian languages.

Feathers are only worn in their hair during ceremonies. Bothe men and women wore their hair loose and long. White settlers complained, "I can't tell the men from the women."

The Mi'kmaq paddled in canoes, or traveled through the winter snow in sleds and snowshoes. The English word "toboggan" comes from the Mi'kmaq word for sled. Dogs were their pack animals in the years before colonists brought horses to Canada.

Traditional military coat, rear view. Courtesy Glenbow Museum/Museum of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia

When the French came in the 1600s many of the Mi'kmaq converted to Catholicism. But European diseases resulted in the death of half their population. Conflicts with the French ensued, though the natives worked together with the French in fur trade.

The British colonization of the eighteenth century brought about the slaughter of the French (Acadians) and breaking and remaking of treaties. The Mi'kmaq were pushed off their fertile land.
The English wanted to alter the indigenous peoples' way of life. Today the 'rights' of the Mi'kmaq are better protected, but their lifestyle is forever changed, their traditions usually limited to special  ceremonies.

View of a Mi'kmaq wigwam, a man, and a child, probably Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, photographed 1860. National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution, Photo NO. 47728.

To learn more about the Mi'kmaq please see the Canadian Encyclopedia link below. 

To find out more about the formation of New Brunswick in On a Stormy Primeval Shore, or to purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 
Source: Canadian Encyclopedia

Opposites attract? Can an Englishwoman and Acadian Fall in Love?

February is considered the month of love due to Valentine's Day. The old saying is that opposites attract, but is it true?

In my Canadian Historical Brides novel On a Stormy Primeval Shore, I bring two people together from different cultures who meet in the strangest of ways. Amelia is an Englishwoman fresh off the boat in a wild country, the just formed province of New Brunswick in 1784. She's come there at the father's behest to marry one of his officers at Fort Howe.

However, she is repulsed by the rude man, who treats her like a pity-project, and refuses to marry him. Deciding to stay, she struggles to form her own life in herbal medicine in a burgeoning country.

Gilbert, a trader, is an Acadian, descendant from the original French settlers when that area was known as New France. The Acadians hate the English after these invaders swept in, murdered the French, and took possession of what would become Canada.

He had no intention of courting an English miss, but fate was against him. Will more be in store for these star-crossed people?

Read the excerpt:

 A growl startled her. Turning, Amelia gasped. Out of the trees lumbered a large, snarling black bear. The animal’s fluid grace belied the menace in his glare. Saliva dripped from the creature’s mouth when it bared sharp teeth. Fear shot through her like arrows.

Louise froze, eyes bulging. Amelia instinctively stepped back. Her foot found no purchase. She slipped, tumbling down the short embankment, rocks poking into her flesh. Her gloves were ripped off as she groped. She landed with a thunk in the marshy soil next to the stream. She struggled to rise amid her tangle of skirt and petticoats. Hips and knees aching, her hands smarted, scraped and embedded with pebbles, but she scrambled to her feet to scuttle up the hill with muddy fingers to help Louise.

She wanted to call out to the girl, but that might attract the bear. Nearing the crest, dirt dislodged above her, sifting down on her face and scalp. Amelia blinked up, her pulse hammering. She heard movement, footsteps.

A large man with a black beard, wearing buckskin clothing and a leather hat, stood at the top of the slope. He aimed a musket in the direction of the bear. The animal growled louder.

"Don’t move, either of you, mes jeune femmes," he commanded in a French accent.

 

 

Gilbert prepared to fire. “Sors d’ici!” The bear swiped again, knocking the musket from his hands. Claws scraped his right arm. He hissed at the scratching of his flesh, the pain radiating up to his shoulder. The animal snapped at him, teeth close.

Gilbert ducked, just missing a bite from those teeth, his face sprayed with saliva. He reached for the musket, his breath harsh.

The young woman (Amelia) crawled to her feet. She screamed like a lunatic, but it sounded more from anger than fear.

                                                                         * * *

 

The handsome Gilbert, a man about to be pushed off his land by greedy Loyalists, will be impressed by a woman who screams at bears. A most unsuitable courtship has begun.

 

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

San Francisco Christmas Spirit

Delve into the dawning of New Brunswick's history, the Loyalists fleeing the American Revolution, and a forbidden romance, in ON A STORMY PRIMEVAL SHORE. Buy Link Below.

But now on to Christmas memories. I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, in a small town called Pacheco. Almost every Christmas we traveled the 25 miles to the Big City where my father's sister, my Aunt Mary lived. Aunt Mary never had children, though she'd had about three husbands. She was a Registered Nurse, but also a free spirit who wore turbans and dangly earrings. Her laugh was uproarious. She was my Auntie Mame.

Aunt Mary as nurse

Christmas in San Francisco was magical to a child: the creeping fogs, the groan of the foghorn out in the bay, and Macy's department store with the huge decorated tree in the store's center.

Not Macy's but similar.

When older, my brother and I would leave the chattering adults and roam the city. We'd ride the clanging cable cars down to Fisherman's Wharf. A freedom most children couldn't enjoy today. I loved the old Victorian buildings, the bustle of the trollies, the fat sea lions grunting on the pier.

The city was decorated with ribbons and tinsel. Giant Christmas ornaments hung from the street lights. The store windows looked like Christmas scenes out of a storybook.

We'd wander through China Town, with the shops set up on the sidewalks.

By the time we returned to our aunt's apartment, a delicious dinner would be served. My beloved aunt and brother are long gone but I'll always have these wonderful memories from my childhood.

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

My Crazy Greek Wedding

The wonderful Canadian Historical Brides series are all about strong women who forged a life in the provinces of Canada at various time periods.

For more info on ON A STORMY PRIMEVAL SHORE, thwarted lovers Amelia and Gilbert, see link at bottom of page.

Here's the story of my wacky Greek wedding. In 1975 I was in the navy and stationed in Nea Makri, Greece (the base is closed now).

NAVCOMMSTA NEA MAKRI

My fiancée, the handsome sailor I'd met on base the year before-George Parkinson-and I planned our wedding, but nothing happened as we hoped.

First, George was married though separated. Everyone shook their finger at me for dating a married man. But he contacted a lawyer back in Pennsylvania, his home state.

George and I did the unthinkable, we moved in together. My doctor told me to go off my birth control pills because they suppressed my ovaries, and guess what, soon I had a bundle of love on the way—and still no divorce in sight. It took a year for the divorce to come through.

I was six months along by now, but skinny enough to not show too badly.

Then Turkey and Greece attacked the island of Cypress, both wanting possession. America refused to take sides in the conflict. Greek students rioted over the American military being on their soil. Each morning we had to check under our car’s wheel wells to make certain no bombs had been planted. The US Fleet was ordered to evacuate Athens. I worked in the Message Center, and frightening warnings of attacks on Americans buzzed over the teletypes.

Greece closed the ports and airports, and George was trapped in Italy. He'd gone to play softball with the base team before the 'war' started.

In a panic, I knew I had to hurry and marry before my time limit was up for boarding a plane for home. Back then you couldn't fly after your seventh month of pregnancy. I was discharging from the navy and they'd assigned me my departure date. The clock was ticking.

Finally, the ports opened up and George made it back to the base. We had three days to throw together a wedding.

I ran to the captain's office to ask him to give me away, met with the chaplain for the service, and told all our friends the date to attend. It was mayhem but worked out. We married on May 12th.

Two days later I boarded the plane for home.

We have two sons, and two beautiful granddaughters. No fancy wedding, but a long marriage.

Next year we'll celebrate out 45th year together. And they said it would never last!

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

 

New Brunswick, forming a New Province

The most surprising fact I learned when I first began to research my Brides province of New Brunswick was that in the year I chose, summer of 1784, there was no New Brunswick. The long, stretched out colony was part of Nova Scotia.

When thousands of Loyalists (people still loyal to King George III) fled the American War of Independence, they were promised land and funds in this colony to the north still owned by Britain. The capital was in Halifax, many miles from mainland Nova Scotia. The Loyalists landed in the village of Parr Town on the Bay of Fundy. A place with a few traders and soldiers, and Fort Howe dominating a limestone hill above, the Loyalists began building shops, townhouses, and coffee houses.

Governor Parr, the governor of Nova Scotia, was considered too incompetent to manage all this new activity. The Loyalists demanded their own capital and their own colony.

Soon Parr Town was renamed Saint John, and the portion of Nova Scotia to the west of the Isthmus of Chignecto was partitioned off and renamed New Brunswick, after one of King George's many titles.


Flag of New Brunswick

The capital would later be moved up-river to a safer place, far from the bay where American raiders could attack, and called Frederick Town, soon shortened to Fredericton.

I incorporated the formation of this new province into my story. My heroine Amelia arrives in Parr Town, to marry a soldier she's never met, shortly before the declaration of New Brunswick.

Canada 1791

Novel blurb:

In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.

 

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

 

 

 

Back in Time to the untidy Eighteenth Century

If I had a Time Machine, I'd travel back to the later eighteenth century, the part of history I mostly write about. I'd view the details of daily life for myself. I'd also pack a suitcase of deodorant, shampoo and conditioner. Women washed their hair with shaved soap flakes, but it left a sticky residue, so don't believe those movies that show the women of this time with silky, ravishing locks.

People didn't bathe (in full immersion in a tub) often, fearing it would destroy the natural oils of the body, leaving you open to disease. I'd miss my hot showers.

I'd travel through England and visit quant villages where the average people toil, but of course I wouldn't have the freedoms I enjoy in the modern world. Women in this era were controlled by men, fathers, brothers, then husbands, and it was seen as the norm. They had few rights of their own.

An outspoken woman could be punished, put in the pillory, or even sold in the market place by her husband. She could be beaten, but fortunately by this time, not legally killed  by a disgruntled husband.





A lucky woman found a happy marriage to sustain her, since her husband became her master. A good husband would treat his wife as an equal. A widow had more freedom to start a business, or continue her husband's. Thank goodness for something for the females.

Marriage a la Mode: The Tête à Tête by William Hogarth. The couple are already disinterested in each other.

And though I'd love to view the details of daily life to get my research right, I wouldn't care for the unsanitary conditions. Fleas in the bed, lice on the body. Though those situations do happen now, we have better ways to deal with them. Having to use a chamber pot or close stool is also a turn-off.

Clothing was another restriction of the time, especially for women. Strapped into 'stays' (corsets), encumbered with layers of clothing, they must have suffocated in hotter weather. The women who didn't have a houseful of servants suffered in hard work: hauling water, milking the cow, scrubbing floors, plus caring for a brood of children.

I'd only visit for a short time in my Time Machine, because I know with my big mouth, I'd be in the pillory in no time.

 

 

To purchase my books at Amazon or All Markets: Click HERE

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

An Acadian Recipe by Diane Scott Lewis

In my novel, On a Stormy Primeval Shore, set in New Brunswick, one of my main characters is an Acadian man, which prompted me to research the history of these people.
Novel blurb:

In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.




Available January 2018
Pre-order NOW (link below)

In the 1600's, when France conquered the eastern area of what is now Canada, they called it New France. The settlers were mostly soldiers, farmers and crafts people. They brought their food traditions from rural areas of France, and soon added the foodstuffs, such as corn, moose and black bear, found in this new land.

The staple of the Acadians, as the settlers became known as, was herring, cod, potatoes and pork. Eventually the French recipes disappeared into the local traditions, as purely Acadian. A typical dish is a one pot meal called Fricot, consisting of meat--usually chicken--potatoes, a hearty broth and dumplings (poutines).

For festive occasions, a Pâté à la Râpure or "rappie pie" is still popular in New Brunswick. Grated potatoes are layered with meat or fowl and broth all baked to a golden brown.

Recipe:

1 five pound fowl, chopped

3 medium onions

1 medium carrot

1 celery stalk

2 teaspoon of salt

1/2 pound finely diced salt pork

15 medium potatoes (about 8 pounds)

Combine ingredients, boil until tender, remove fowl's skin and bones, grate potatoes, layer fowl and potatoes and bake at 400 degrees for thirty minutes, then at 350 until crusty brown (two more hours). Of course in the 18th century when my novel takes place, they'd have baked in an iron pot in the fireplace hearth.

For more detailed instructions, click link below for Acadian.org.

Source: Acadian.org

On a Stormy Primeval Shore Pre-order: click HERE

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the word with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband.

For more info on my novels, please visit my BWL author page
or my website: Diane Scott Lewis

A Diverse Group Supports my Writing, by Diane Scott Lewis

I have many people to thank for their wonderful support over the years. My mother, and my English teachers are the earliest. Recently, for my Canadian Historical Brides book, On a Stormy Primeval Shore:

Here's the blurb: In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.

First and foremost I’d like to thank Nancy M. Bell, my fellow author, who sent me research documents, websites and kept in touch with people at The New Brunswick Museum while writing her own novel in the series. She also critiqued each chapter and offered suggestions.



Nancy M. Bell

 

 

I thank my Beta readers, all three of them. So I guess they’d be Gamma and Delta, too. Ginger Simpson, Norma Redfern, and for my final draft, Kathy Pym.

 

My two on-line critique groups. I’ve been with many of these people for over a decade. Their suggestions and expertise is invaluable. These writers include fellow BWL authors Kathy Pym and Anita Davison. Also, authors Maggi Andersen, AnneMarie Brear, Ursula Thompson, and Lisa Elm. In my other group I have Carolyn, Randall, Karen, James, Harry, Lindsey, Kathy and Jane.

Nancy's contacts at The New Brunswick Museum, who guided her to rare documents: Jennifer Longon; Gary Hughes; Ruth Cox.

 

The Internet, what would I do with you? Formally, I’d research in libraries, including the fantastic Library of Congress. I’d get Library Loans of difficult to find books. I still enjoy libraries, that unreplaceable smell of books, but where I live now in rural Western Pennsylvania the choices are limited.

My publisher Jude for believing in and promoting this series, and the Government of Canada for funding it.

Now for who supports my writing in general, my husband, family and friends. I've dragged my husband off to England through the wilds of Cornwall, over to France, and up to Canada, in pursuit of my research. He's waiting for my million-dollar book deal; he really wants that vacation house in the tropics!

Bio: Diane Parkinson (Diane Scott Lewis) grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, joined the Navy at nineteen and has written and edited free-lance since high school. She writes book reviews for the Historical Novels Review and worked as a historical editor for The Wild Rose Press. She’s had several historical novels published. Diane lives with her husband in Western Pennsylvania.

 
For more on my novels, please visit my BWL Author Page

And my website: dianescottlewis.org

The Arc of the Story as I see it, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

I adore history and telling stories. I was born in California and published short-stories and poems in school magazines. I wanted to travel the world, so I joined the navy at nineteen, married my navy husband in Greece-and explored the ancient ruins-then had two sons. We traveled to exotic locales, giving me the urge to weave tales involving the past. My first novel was published in 2010, and many historical novels followed. I now live with my husband in Western Pennsylvania.

My current work in progress is in honor of Canada's 150th birthday: On a Stormy Primeval Shore
In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, and refuses to marry him. She is attracted to a handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must fight the incursion of English Loyalists from the American war to hold onto his land and heritage. Will he and Amelia find peace when events seek to destroy their love and lives.



Available in 2018

What is a story arc? An agent once asked me if my story followed the three-arc format? I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I took a writing class, which helped—sort of—to explain this issue. I was under the impression I could write my novel any way I wanted to, rambling on and on, throwing in info dumps, but no, you must have an arc, a frame work, highs and lows and a wrapping up at the end.

Since I’m a ‘pantzer’ i. e., I write by the ‘seat of my pants’, I just start writing with a slight idea of who my characters are and what the setting will be. It’s after I’ve written several chapters that I figure out where the story will go.

For this novel, I read up on the history of New Brunswick, decided to start with the ‘break’ of the colony from Nova Scotia in 1784, and tossed my female character, Amelia, a young Englishwoman, into those events. My male character is Acadian. Gilbert grew up with the ebb and flow of changing events, the expulsion of his people when the British came, and so forth. This way I could show the colony from the POV of two different cultures.

As for story arcs, I’m not sure if I follow the framework as I should. I try to intermix action, with gentler scenes, have a big action scene near the end, then wrap up the story. My characters often tell me which way to go once their personalities flesh out and they take over the novel. I try to work in the history in ways that make sense and don’t overwhelm the reader. But I still like those info dumps, darn it!



French flintlock pistol, 1790

I suppose for this type of novel a story arc is boy meets girl, boy loses girl, people shoot at each other, further difficulties arise that I won’t reveal, then, hopefully, everything comes out all right in the end.

 

To find out more about Diane Scott Lewis and her novels, visit her BWL Author page

Or her website: dianescottlewis.org

Plotting with history’s constraints, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

 

Writing historical fiction is not for the disorganized. I intended to specialize in one century and prefer the eighteenth century. I read numerous books on that period in preparation. However, my first novel was so complicated, and covered such a long period, I had to create a chronology of the years people were born, died, had children, and so forth, so I’d know how old people were and what event in history might be in the background.

I relied on libraries and reference books I'd collected. I studied so much on this time-period, I can pick out inaccuracies in other authors’ works, but I’m sure I’ve made several myself.

Now, with the internet there are so many sites, blogs, and documents that cover the Georgian era, it's much simpler.

I had a superb on-line diary to consult, written by a man in the eighteenth century, which told of government activities, agriculture, when the price of sugar soared, and so on. Then the web hosting service, GeoCities, was discontinued, and I lost that valuable resource. If it’s in their Archives, I can’t find it.

I have post-it notes all over my computer and desk to remind me of things to add to my various novels. I send myself emails from my phone when an idea strikes me and I’m not home.

When I started my story on New Brunswick, I began with my usual method—a pantser not a planner. No outlines for me! I write by the seat of my pants, then I go back and see what my characters require, because now I know who they really are. For this novel, I read the history of the colony and decided where to place who and which events would shape the characters in 1784 and a couple of years beyond.

Often you write something, then discover it couldn’t have happened at that time. I’ll mention a city, then find it wasn’t developed until twenty years later. New Brunswick has long, harsh winters, and I needed to work around that. I’m originally from California, where things rarely freeze, so it was a learning experience for me, and my bride, Amelia, who comes over from Plymouth, England. And poor Amelia has no central heating, electric blankets, or other modern conveniences. She doesn’t know how to gut animals for eating, and there are no supermarkets with fresh food. Still, I like that my characters can’t grab a cell phone to call for help; they must learn to use their wits, develop courage, or perish.

Just recently I realized I couldn't use the fort I'd chosen for an assailant to have been stationed. It hadn't been built until twenty-two years after the "assault". I dove in for quick rewrites.

As my writing continued, more ideas came for the story arc: what huge event would rock her world, historical or otherwise?  Which man will catch her fancy and change her life?

I have websites bookmarked, a map on my desk, books stacked up, and Nancy Bell to help with all the research required to sound authentic.

 New Brunswick’s history is fascinating and I hope I gave the colony a proper showcase as well as keeping readers entertained.

 

 

For more info, please visit my BWL Author Page

or my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

Cover Reveal: On A Stormy Primeval Shore

It's been a BUSY month for the Canadian Historical Brides series.  In addition to the pre-release of Brides of Banff Springs, we have two new covers.  

This time the cover is for Diane Scott Lewis and Nancy M Bell's On A Stormy Primeval Shore.

Interview with Diane Scott Lewis

Whew, we are rolling right along through the month of December.  Can you believe it is already the 10th?  Time sure does fly!

Despite being super busy with writing and the upcoming holidays, Diane Scott Lewis is with us today to answer some of my challenging questions.

If you have a questions for her that she doesn't answer here, simply leave it in the comments field.  

When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? 

When I was five. I illustrated my story and told my mother what to write (since I hadn’t yet learned how to write). I wrote my first full-length novel at age ten, a novel of ancient Egypt and Rome. The movie Cleopatra might have had an influence on me. I’ve written poems, short-stories and novels ever since. I wrote my first serious novel in the 90’s, set in Cornwall, England during the French Revolution.

How long does it take you (on average) to write a book?

The first book took me over ten years. I’d forgotten everything I learned in high school about grammar and structure, and had to re-teach those skills to myself to enhance the book. My friends call me the Grammar Witch. I used to write huge, epics. Now I keep my novels at reasonable lengths, under a hundred thousand words. Since I do so much research, as I mainly write historicals, it usually takes me at least a year to finish a novel. I’ve also been fortunate enough to travel to the places I write about: England and France.

Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel like you have the reigns of the story?

My characters always hijack my stories. I’m a ‘pantser’, in that I write by ‘the seat of my pants’ with only a vague outline in mind. I envy people that can outline and stick to it. As my story grows, I come to know the characters better, as they insist on, and I go back to the beginning and make changes to suit their personalities and desires.

What do you like to do when you're not writing?

Since I write historical novels, I spend time reading research books and scouring the internet for information. In the old days, pre-internet ‘gasp’, I visited The Library of Congress and their vast collection to access research books. I was in writer’s nirvana there. I was able to read one book that was published in 1817, the very year I was writing in on one book. I also read for pleasure, love to travel, design with graphics, and play with my beautiful granddaughters. Oh, and I stick now-retired-hubby in there, somewhere, lol.

What is a favorite childhood memory you can share with us?

Is age thirteen still considered a child? Yesterday I spoke to an old friend via phone and I remembered when we were both thirteen, she lived across the street from me. On summer nights we’d lie on the still-warm pavement and stare up at the sky, at the stars, and talk about the likeliness of life on other planets, and other matters important to girls who are barely teenagers. The cars coming up the street weren’t happy having to drive around us. You’re fearless at thirteen! What a great friendship.

Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?

I love Branek Pentreath, my brooding hero from The Apothecary’s Widow. He’s cynical, blunt, with a dry sense of humor, but he’s also honest and caring. He had a terrible marriage and thought he’d never find love…however, when he does it’s with a most unsuitable woman. I enjoyed writing his character arc, his struggles with a murder suspicion hanging over his head, his trials to keep his estate solvent and his growing affection for the apothecary’s widow.

If you could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything for 24 hours, what would it be?

I’d like to go back to the eighteenth century in England. Then I could experience all that my characters experience in their everyday lives. I like to make my stories as authentic as possible. However, I’d be grateful for the 24 hours. With the sanitary conditions—or lack thereof—in that era, I would soon insist on modern times. The women wore no underwear, a fact that flabbergasted me. I’d also never fit into those ‘stays’ (corsets).

I tell you, these historical authors and their going back to the past.  :) Diane did bring up a wonderful point though, thankfully it would only be for 24 hours.  No indoor plumbing?  Back before washing hands before surgery?  No idea of the germ theory if disease? No thank you.  It might be nice for 24 hours though, to see some of the wonderful things we can only read about in history books.