Some Small Dive - The Cover

 

Above is a quick sketch of my first idea for a cover. I "pictured" it vaguely painted in a very loose, moody, and impressionist style, like some old painting of a jazz pianist. The painting would have wrapped around to the  back cover of the paperback book, with the front cover on the right. However, in sketching it to size, I found it difficult to fit the piano player on the front cover without making him, and all the other figures, very small.

Eventually, I turned the  mind's "camera" 90 degrees, and adopted a sort of Von Gogh style of painting - lots of sketchy color and some black lines. I'd seen pictures of painting he'd done in rooms and I believe a bar. The result is below.

It had the elements I was looking for, and I went with it for a while, though for the cover, it was cropped to eliminated the ceiling. I did feel that the black outlines were too thick. I could thin them out on the painting, or on the computer. Since, as you can see, I left way too much space on top for the title box, the painting did not work as a piece of art. It was out of balance. Given that, I decided to narrow the black lines on the digital copy, which resulted in a minor improvement for the cover. However by then, I had a growing conviction that the art did not really reflect my idea of the Bleu Moon, that some small dive. With the original as a digital copy in hand, I decided that I had nothing to lose by repainting the original piece of art, since it wasn't good art anyway.  Below is the revised version.

As you can see, I didn't really touch the figures, except for adding one in the foreground, along with two new tables. I also extended the lighted shelving higher and created a narrow strip with the paintings before reaching the ceiling. And then, after using it on the cover for a while, I decided the shelves were too high, so I did some work in Gimp to move the ceiling down again, reverting to the two shelves in the digital version. I had painted everything a little darker and more uniform, trusting the illuminated liquor shelves to keep the cover from getting too dark. In the end I really had to blow out the shelves to give the painting more "pop" since it will certainly print darker than what it looks like on this glowing screen. I shortened my usual box for the blurb on the back so it doesn't cover up the piano player. I didn't have much to say about the story anyway. I also did a fair amount in "post" adjustments with the painting. Working in Gimp I once more cleaned up and narrowed the black lines, added a missing barstool and fixing a figure, and as I mentioned, eliminated the third tier of the shelving in back. 

As of now, it's still in layers so I can still shift the painting around in the frame, and I can change the color of the title and blurb boxes, as well as change the size of the background image, but I think it's as good as it's going to get where it's at now. 

As I have mentioned in the past, I really can't "see" images in my mind. I can get a sort of muddy impression of what I would like to do, but no more. And it usually falls apart on contact with reality. That makes creating an image from the story rather difficult, as I have nothing more than an impression to go on. I think this cover, while not even close to my impression of the Bleu Moon, does, at least, suggest it, and that's about as close as I can expect to get.

Below is the ebook cover. I shifted the art a slightly upwards since I did not have to worry about covering up the piano player.

The Saturday Morning Post (No. 198)

 

This week we have another suggestion from Jen's Reading Life channel. This one is a novel about gardening.

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

Old Herbaceous by Reginald Arkell  B

This a short "Novel of the Garden." It is the life story of Bert Pinnegar, who, as a newborn, was left on the doorstep of the Mrs Pinnegar, a kindly soul and a cowman's wife. She, with six children of her own figured, "one more didn't matter," and took him in. 

He grew up loving and learning all about wild flowers at the side of the local teacher, Mary Brain, who would fearlessly cross farmer's fields in a quest for wildflowers while Bert, on the other hand, was terrified of farmers, since they would yell at him from across a ten acre field if they found him looking for wildflowers on their land. Thus, he collected most of his flowers along the disused canal. One year, at the Annual Flower Show he was awarded first prize by the young fiancée of the Manor house for his wild flower arrangement submission, because he picked waterflowers, instead of any old flowers put together in any old way. Several years later, when it came time for the local vicar to assign the students their jobs for the rest of their lives - mostly in farm work because that was all they had been educated to do, Bert refused farm work. He still hated farmers and farm work. Luckily that young fiancée, now Mrs Charteris, the lady of the manor, was present when the vicar was interviewing him, and remembering him from the show, offered him the chance to work in her garden. And thus began a lifelong relationship with the lady of the manor and her garden.

In the early years she taught him the Latin names of all the flowers, while he, under the tutelage of the head gardener, learned the trade from the ground up. Because he loved the work, he often worked after hours, which impressed Mrs Charteris, who, when the old gardener retired, promoted him to head gardener. 

This short novel tells stories of his life as he mastered his craft and built a garden that was the showpiece of the district over the course of nearly 80 years, from the 1870's to 1950. In addition, it chronicled the wider changes in society from the age of Victoria to the Cold war. The author was about the same age as his character, so that he too traveled through those days, and the story no doubt reflects his authentic reactions to those changes.

All in all, it is a quiet, lovely little story, told with humor, some sadness, and an enduring passion for the garden.

What Next?

 

What am I going to write next? Am I going to write anything next? Two interesting questions. Two questions without answers at the moment.

I certainly would like to be writing my next story. I love to write, and I have a 15+ year habit of writing for an hour or two, every morning, and sometimes at night as well. A habit that I have no desire to break.

However... It takes more than a desire and a habit to produce a story. It also takes more than a story idea to produce a story. You may first need a story idea, but then you need to be able to hang incidents and episodes on that idea to fill it out and arrive at a satisfactory conclusion. Which is to say, you need a plot to go with the idea. At the moment, I am entertaining two story ideas, but alas, both of them have issues. Issues that may or may not be able to be resolved. I may very well need to come up with something else altogether.

Over the last 15+ years I've managed to come up with enough story ideas and plots to write 20 novels and 6 novellas. And these were not cookie-cutter formulaic 50K generic genre novels. It seems that, without really trying, I've actually been a rather prolific novelist, especially given that all these stories were written since I turned 60 years old. But it has always been touch and go when it comes to stories... I don't have an abundance of ideas like some writers. And then there is the fact that I'm not getting any younger. At 76 I might be forgiven in slowing down, though to be honest, I don't see any physical reason for doing so... knock on wood. But on the other hand, with 26 published stories, I don't feel like I have to prove anything to myself. It's have a legacy already. For what it's worth.

So, where does all this leaves us. To be honest, it leaves us still wondering what I'm going to write next, and when. 

Currently, I am exploring two ideas for novels, and have been for some time. However, neither of them are clicking. 

I've already mentioned one of the ideas some time ago. Back in April, which you can find a blog post entitled  A Bird in the Bush in which I discuss it. 

However, there is a big problem with this story idea. It's not the story. It's me. 

Blame it on my lack of youth, but at the age of 76, I find the scope of that story idea, Beyond the Iron Gate, and the prospect of writing it, daunting. It would involve inventing a whole new world, teeming with hundreds of different societies, and a quest that would take our characters through at least half a dozen of them, with even more suggested one way or another. As a fantasy I think it would have to run 150K words, a story length I could easily do ten years ago, but today... I far from sure I have the patience to invent and write a story that long. Or, honestly, care to. I've been writing novellas recently, and have come to enjoy that length. Their relative simplicity may've spoiled me.

A post or two ago, I said that every story presents a challenge, which is part of the fun of writing it. And this story would be a challenge. But I also need to be excited by the challenge, and in this case, I'm not. 

And then we come to story idea two, one which I have only hinted at. In this case, the challenge has been to come up with a satisfactory plot. While I have the first several chapters in mind, the premise is undercooked, so the opening chapters, it just peters out. I haven't been able to figure out where it goes and what my characters can do that would be fun and interesting. Though I've been trying every day, nothing brilliant as resulted. 

I'm beginning to think that I'm going to have to come up with an entirely new story idea.

Still, it isn't time to panic.

My plan has always been to have my next story fixed in mind by the beginning of October, ready to put down in words. The first draft takes me three to four months and three or so more to get it out the door. Ideally if I started writing my next novel in October, I could release it by late spring/early summer 2027. Which is well ahead of my goal of a novel a year. So, if it takes longer, oh well. There is no hard deadline to meet. As I said at the top, I like to write. My sense of urgency is really a desire to just have something to sit down and write every day. We'll just have to see if I can come up with something to do so. All I can say is, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I'm gong to have to come up with a new story. Somehow. Hopefully soon.

The Saturday Morning Post (No.197)

 

These days I find books to read from watching the various booktube channels I look in on. My book this time is another book recommended by Jen's Reading Life as a summer read.

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

The Narrowboat Summer (AKLA Three Women and a Boat) by Anne Youngson  B

As I mentioned in the lede, this was proposed as a summer's read, and it is. I believe that Jen mentioned that not a lot goes on, that it is a fictional account of life on the cannels of Britain with a lot of little events and quiet drama. I enjoyed reading it.

The premise is that Sally has just left her husband of some 25 years. She doesn't know what she wants to do, but she does know she doesn't want to go on living with Duncan, a nice guy, but she wants something different. Then we have Eve, a senior engineer who was  just elected the scapegoat of the less than expected performance of the engineering company she had worked for, and which had been purchased by an American firm and has been let go. Both of them are walking down the tow path when they encounter a longboat from which a mournful sound is coming from. They stop to discover what's the matter. It proves to be a dog, that escapes when they try to help it, and before they decided what to do, the owner, Anastasia, and gruff elderly lady shows up. She tells them the dog will come back, and invites them aboard for a cup of tea. It turns out she has to get her boat to Chester by August, but she has to have some serious medical treatment, and can't get away. She proposes that the Sally and Eve take her boat up to Chester for her. Both Sally and Eve have left, or been pushed out of their old lives, so they decide to give it a go, with Anastasia staying in Eve's flat while she has treatment. All, slightly implausible, but if you run with it, you will be treated to a leisurely trip north through the network of cannels, meeting all sorts of people along the way, as Sally and Eve attempt to sort out what they want to do with their life, once the deliver the long boat to a boatbuilder in Chester.

Give the age of the characters, it would fall into the "cozy" category of books, but from what I've read in that general category, I think the writing is a step above the run of the mill cozy whatever, more thoughtful than most.

Interestingly enough, I suspect there is a little autobiographical input in this story as well. Youngson, with an English degree, when to work with the motor company, Rover, as a junior copywriter, but seeing that all the excitement was in the engineering department, so she not only worked her way into the engineering department, but up through the engineering ranks to become a managing director of a major line of vehicles as an engineer. Like Eve in the story she worked in a mostly male environment, like Eve she played an active role in ongoing projects, including working with Honda. And like Eve, Ford acquired Rover when she was 56, though unlike Eve, she was offered early retirement, which she took it. She, however, had been writing for herself all along. And so, after a few years, she went back to university, in part to broaden her circle of friends, earning a MA and then a Ph.D. in creative writing from Oxford University. After co-writing some books on the auto industry, published her first novel at the age of 70, And has has published two more since then. 

Some Thoughts on Some Small Dive

I know I promised the next entry in the long tease would be the cover reveal, but this quick sketch of my initial idea of the cover will have to do for today, since I want to talk about the story itself instead. 

First of all, I've signed off on the story, save for any inputs from my various beta readers. My wife is now proofreading it... but hey, she signed up for "for better or worse". You sometimes have to take the rough with the smooth. Once I've corrected the mistakes she finds I'll sent it along to any beta reader brave enough to tackle it. 

As for the story itself, the first draft came in a just under 80,000 words. The final draft came in at just over 84,000 words, for a 5% increase. This is half of my customary 10% (plus) word count inflation as I always add words through the second and third drafts. This less exuberant result is due, at least in part, to a concerted effort on my part to rein in my customary wordiness. The narrator of the story is a newspaper editor, and I wanted the narration to be sparse. Not quite telegraphic, but lean, or at least leaner than my usual fare. Though the word count still grew...

Eighty-four thousand words is a rather short novel for me. I generally shot for 100,000 words and end up longer. I want to give my customers their money's worth. My two shorter novels are Someday Days which comes out at 79.5K words and the Prisoner of Cimlye comes in a little short of 55K words. However, I believe that 80K words is considered a standard novel, if there is such thing. And since this is my version of a standard novel, eighty thousand words was my goal, so I pretty much nailed it.

For me, every story has a challenge. That's what makes it worth doing. My challenge for Some Small Dive was to write a story only filled with mundane events. This not what genre fiction is all about. It's about extraordinary things happening. As a result, I believe my usual audience will find this story boring. But boring was what I was going for. I think I nailed it. Why a boring story? Well, why not? That's what self-publishing is all about; doing something real publishers are afraid to do. Or are too smart to do. This approach is only viable when you're not doing it for money, like all publishers and most self-publishing authors. When you're not trying to get rich, you've got nothing to lose, no matter what you do.

The main question I was exploring in writing this story was; can I write a story without an antagonist, and in which everything that does happen in it is something mundane? A story in which everything that happens could happen to any of the readers without raising an eyebrow. And in doing so, can I keep them reading? And incidentally, can I keep writing it? That last question was touch and go. It took me a year and a half to do it. The former question is still an open one.

As I said in an earlier post, I can now see how literary fiction writers are so admired. Trying to make the ordinary seem interesting is quite a challenge.

I consider this story to be my literary novel. Well, literary-lite novel. I had no agenda, no great insights into human nature to get off my chest. All I really wanted to do was to bring these two lines to life; "I'll live a lush life, in some small dive." A story about a cozy refuge of good friends.

However, I find that it does has a theme running through it, as all literary novels must have. Mine, however, is emergent, which is to say, it originated not by design, but by the story as it developed. This theme is change. Everyone in the story faces the opportunity to change. Will they take it or pass? 

Boring or not, I know that there will be an audience for it. However, it is unlikely to be a large one. But there will be one. I read books like this one all the time. Some of the books I've been reading recently are as every bit as mundane as mine. And I've enjoyed them, though part of their charm is that they offer a glimpse of everyday life twenty, thirty years before I was born. That said, I also know that there will be people who find it terrible. To deal with this, I'm cutting them off at the past. My whole blurb is going to celebrate just how boring the book is in the name of honesty. Thus, the worst they can do is agree with me.

As I said, this project is close to being done. About all that remains is to inflict it upon the unsuspecting world. Despite the fact that I only released a novella in July, I see no reason to hold it back once all my beta readers read it or bailed, so I expect to set a release date in late September 2026 or early October. Life is too short to put off things. At my age, anyway.

The Saturday Morning Post (No.196)

 

THE SATURDAY MORNING BOOK REPORT

Guess what. You do get a break. A book I had on hold at the library that came in, so here we go.

The author of this book is someone I came across several years ago as one of the hosts of The Publishing Rodeo Podcast where she and another author interviewed author guests highlighting some of the darker alleys of traditional publishing. All very interesting. She just released her second novel in May, so I put my request for a hold on it. I've now read it, and here's my thoughts.

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

The Girl With a Thousand Faces by Sunyi Dean C-

A big disappointment. I finished it, but I did a lot of skimming to do so, hence a C- is the best grade I can give it. It should've been better. Modern writing...

The story has as split time line. One time line is set in Hong Kong's Kowloon's Walled City in 1975 with the second on a small island close to Hong Kong prior to and during World War ll. Plus, there's some in between time as well. Yep, it's one of them stories that have you jumping back and forth in time. It's set in a fantasy version of our world, mostly the same, except that ghosts are real and can interact with the living. The rules of ghosts seem rather flexible, i.e. as in whatever the author needs for a ghost to do for the story to work the way she wants it. The basic concept is that anyone who is not properly buried, and who has unresolved issues in their lives, become ghosts, at least for a while. Or first protagonist, Mercy Chan, is a rare person who can talk to these ghosts in order to resolve their issues so that they can move on to whatever. She works for the triad boss who runs things in Kowloon Walled City, and this is part of the triad's service for the "dues" they collect from everyone. 

The books starts with a hook, Mercy dealing with a disgruntled grandmother who has a bone to pick with her son. He stole her money and left her to die. She is not a happy ghost.

Hook over, we then go back to 1941 with Mercy washing ashore as a young lady without a memory of her past. She ends up working for the Chinese resistance to the brutal Japanese occupation, and after the war is employed by that triad boss.

Then it's back to 1975, where she gets assigned to deal with a powerful ghost or demon who is killing a lot of people. She starts her investigation, finds the ghost/demon...

And then, this is around the 30% point now, the story changes, yet again. All that went before was just a bigger hock, because we now go back to learn about Mercy Chan's past, the part she can't remember. The style of narration changes for this part of the story, it is now being told in second person by the Goddess Kwun Yam. We end up on a small island haunted by ghosts with various twists and turns follow, only to then follow another character back to the present. Very confusing, especially when you're skim reading.

So why a C- grade from me?

First, the writing style is very plain. I've seen it called YA in reviews. I don't read YA as a rule, so I can't say it is,  all I can say is that the author's voice had no character. I think this is a modern trait, getting rid of all those useless adjectives, and such. I found the characters uninteresting, and jumping around so much didn't help me connect to her or one of them. I guess you were supposed to be invested in the mystery of her origin, but if you aren't interested in her, why should you care about her past? You know that all you have to do is sit back and be told about it no matter what. 

The there was the view point change. The first 30% was third person, but the remainder was, as I said, told in second person by a Chinese goddess to Mercy Chan, as in "You studied it intently..." or 'You flushed." "You then... etc." I find second person annoying, but I did put up with it, though for the life of me, there seemed no reason to write in that style, as it was just relating the character's back story. Usually second person is used to convey a sense of urgency drawing the reader in. 

And of course, all this hopping back and forth in time, which I see as slicing and dicing a story to make is seem more complex than it is, and in this case to hide a "clever" twist.

All in all, a very modern story for readers who like very modern storytelling. I don't, so it wasn't for me. The book has a 4.02 rating on Goodreads, with 4,600 ratings, the largest bar the 4 star rating, so that I think a lot of people, even if they like it, see it's problems as well. As someone who talked about hidden parts of publishing and how brutal it can be, I will note that her debut novel from 2022 as 59,000 ratings, though a 3.6 star rating. Given that most books sell the most copies in the first three months of release, I don't see this book selling as well as her debut. She has one more book on contract. It will be interesting to hear what she has to say about this experience, if they continue the podcast.

Taking Back the Day

Not a great photo, but you have to take what you can get. Taken shortly before sundown this past Sunday. You also get the last of my hollyhocks, and a corner of the hammock slung under our deck where I idle the summer away. When my wife lets me have it.

This summer the neighborhood deer apparently have decided to take back the day. They're no longer going to be creatures of the night, as they have been in the past. They're not going to slink around in the moonlight to eat our flowers. Nope. They're going to do it in broad daylight. The salad bar is now open all day long. This has been a very noticeable change in behavior. Seeing deer out and about at any hour of the day has made them, almost, as common a sight as squirrels.  

Eau Claire has a large deer population. All the parks have their herds, as does every wood lot of any size, of which there are many around the city. My son, who takes long walks after work reports that deer just stand 10 - 15 feet away and watch him him pass when walking along the bike trail through a small wood lot. Not quite tame, but not shy either.

In the past I've seen deer about, but usually around sunset, like in the photo above. Which is about the time they begin venture out from local wood lot of the school below our hill. I call them wood lots, as they are usually less than 50 meters wide, not true woods, just lots with trees and underbrush.

The faint white path on the grass is  a track that the deer have trampled down this year in our backyard. They run just along the retaining wall which is about 30 ft from where I hang out on the hammock. 

One March day several years ago I happened to see a herd of maybe 15 or more deer running down the street and into our condo complex, heading... well who knows where? Likely the wood lot on the school property, no doubt they'd been kicked up from some other wood lot on the other side of the neighborhood. In short, we have a large urban deer population.

But, as I said, what makes this  summer so different is that the deer are out and about all day. There is one doe with twins. The twins, followed by their mom loped past me, within 30 feet, while I was reading in the hammock just last week. Who knows how often they do when I don't notice them? There is also a doe with one fawn, and a doe without a youngster in tow. What I haven't seen is a buck. They are less bold. A few years ago I was sitting in the garage watching the sun set, when a pair of deer, a doe and young buck started down the drive towards me. When they spied me, they stopped, looked, and then the doe continued on, followed, reluctantly by the buck. Maybe all those generations of being hunted has left its mark more on bucks more than does.

Below is a photo I happen to snap just yesterday afternoon. Wanting to have some photos for this piece, I've been carrying my phone around, as well as having the camera button on my tablet on the home screen. 

Faun on the run, along the retaining wall. Photo taken from the hammock.

As I said, the above photo is one I managed to take yesterday while the fawn ran along the deer track shown above. He or she had just run across the yard going the other way. I hadn't seen the faun until it was too late But then he or she stopped at the end of the lawn, and looked back, stood watching me for half a minute or so, allowing me to get my phone out and its camera up and ready. Then, either to taunt me, or just show off, the fawn ran back. Or simply the exuberance of youth. In any event, it allowed me to get several nice pictures of him or her. Clearly this faun has cut the apron strings of mom.

 These days this happens, this seems, to happen a lot, several times a day. Pretty cool.

The Saturday Morning Post (No.195)

 

THE SATURDAY BOOK REPORT

One more, for now. I'm going to take a break... but unless I read something other that O Douglas, between now and I return to her, you won't have a break.

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

Penny Plain by O Douglas  B

This is O Douglas' third novel of 1920. In this story we have Jean, age 23 raising her two brothers on her own. The eldest is just going off to Oxford at the start of the story, leaving somewhat younger brother, as well as the son of her step-mother. England at this time sent her sons and their wives off to the East, to India, where they routinely died. I gather that it was customary to send the children of the British Rah, once they reached a certain age, back to England to be raised by relatives or lodged in boarding schools. In this case, Jean and her brothers were sent to an old aunt. When the aunt died, Jean was left to raise her siblings. But that's not all. With Jean's mother dead, her father remarried and had a son. He proceeded to die as well, to be followed by his second wife, who, on her deathbed, set their son back to England for Jean to care for, knowing that Jean was a good and caring person.

They live in small cottage in a fictional Scottish boarder town, probably a fictionalized Peebles. Along comes a daughter of a lord, age 40, who sick of society decides to board in the house next door, and she and Jean become close friends. The story slowly evolves mostly to introduce more characters, though there is a late blooming romance as well, that, in its way, reflected certain attitudes of the day. But I can't go into it without spoiling it, so I won't.

Like her previous novels, a lot of this story is taken up with sketches of the local people and their backstories. A lot of the dialog is, well, kindly gossip about everyone, as well as a description of small town life at that time, which I find interesting. It is somewhat eye-opening to read in books written in the past how much people back before radio, TV, and the internet had to make their own entertainment playing games, singing songs, playacting in ad hoc plays, and calling on, or entertaining, neighbors for tea and such. This is contemporary fiction made historical fiction by the passage of time, and depending on how authentic is was at the time, it becomes authentic historical fiction with time. In the case of O Douglas, I don't think she makes her characters out of nothing. I am sure they are drawn, at least in parts, from people she knew or met, having grown up in Scotland, and went on to live in the very part of Scotland that she's writing about.

As usual with her stories, the characters are all likeable, and even the rather unpleasant ones are not without their good side as well. So far I think the stories of Molly Clavering and D E Stevenson are more novel-like (as they should be) than the three stories O Douglas has written at this point. Douglas is more interested in exploring people than in plot, and indeed, sometimes she even slips herself into the story, mentioning that she's telling the story, rather than having it play out on its own.

I'll be reading on. There are seven more novels in the omnibus, but, as I mentioned in the lede, I'm going to take a break. Maybe I'll read something else, or maybe it'll be just a short break. We'll see.

The Inspiration of the Boring Book

 

A detail from the original artwork from the unrevised cover

Every story starts with a tiny kernel of an idea around which the story slowly grows. Or doesn't. In the case of my newest novel, the boring one, the kernel of the story comes from a jazz standard. More specifically, from two lines of a specific performance of that song.

For some unknown reason, those two lines evoke the wisp of ghost of an untraceable pseudo-memory whenever I hear them sung. Very strange. Strange enough to write a book about. What better subject than a ghost of a pseudo-memory of and unknown time and place?  A past life? Sadly, I don't think I actually got any closer to that time and place. In any event, it inspired a book.

The song is composed by Billy Strayhorn. Billy Strayhorn was a jazz pianist, composer, lyricist, and arranger in the Duke Ellington band for almost 30 years. The tune is Lush Life, much of which he wrote while still a teenager. The tune is about the failed romance of the song's narrator, who hangs out in "come-what-may places" to get the "feel of life from jazz and cocktails." He falls in love, and for a while, believes her "poignant smile was tinged with the sadness of a great love" for him. Alas, "I guess, ah, yes, I was wrong, again." Heartbroken he muses that a week in Paris might ease the bite of it, though all he cares to do "is to smile in  spite of it." Still, he can't get her out of his mind, so - and then come the two lines that strangely evoke that ghost of a memory of a time and place I can't place - "I'll live a lush life, in some small dive"  Where he'll "rot with the rest of those whose lives are lonely too."

But it's not just those two lines, but the way they're sung by Johnny Hartman, on the album John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman. This song, sung by Harman with Coltrane, is that little kernel around which this novel grew. 

You can hear that version of the song HERE

What makes it all so strange, is that when I hear those lines sung, I get a flash of familiarity, not even an image, but a tinge of deja vu, a fleeting memory of knowing this small, dim-lit bar in New York, where a small cadre of regulars, sophisticate men and women gather at night, every night. Stranger still is that I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I've actually been in a bar. Really, I can only think of two times. I'm not a bar person. I'm not very social, I don't drink, save for some cheap wine every once and a while, and I really, really hate loud music and trying to carry on a conversation over it. Plus, I've never been to New York. Not in this life, anyway. It was this inexplicable reaction to those words that intrigued me enough to write a story around it. 

Alas, as I said, I didn't really capture the elusive feeling I was seeking in the story. I ended up writing a story where nothing happens. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. But that became the challenge. Write a story about mundane lives. And having written it, I will publish it, with suitable warnings. I'm actually looking forward to its reception. It's a mystery. Will boring sell? Or be damned? In any event, this fall you'll be able to stop in after ten to meet the habitues of a small Press Borough dive known as the Bleu Moon, just by reading my boring novel, titled Some Small Dive.

Some Small Dive is the third Lorrian novel, set in the Chateau Clare - Glencrow Summer time line, with all new characters, plus a few cameo appearances from a couple of characters from Chateau Clare.

In the next installment, I'll talk about the cover of Some Small Dive. I had actually painted it before I finished the first draft.

The Saturday Morning Post (No.194)

 

THE SATURDAY BOOK REPORT

I warned you.

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

The Setons by O Douglas (Anna Masterton Buchan) B-

If her first novel, Olivia was semi-autobiographical, this one is as well. Though it has a different main character, Elizabeth Seton, she comes across much like Olivia, with a similar family; the younger sister of three brother in a close-knit family where the children ran rather loose. In this story she is the 28 year old daughter of a Calvinist minister who ministers to a church in the Gorbals of Glasgow, the poor sections of Glasgow. She looks after the house, and her much younger brother as well does all sorts of church work expected of the daughter of a minister, years after the death of her mother and an older brother. Now, consider that the author was the daughter of the Rev John Buchan, a Free Church minister who worked in the Gorbals of Glasgow, who had at least three older brothers, and kept house for her a brother until her father's death after which she lived with her mother. The minister in this story sounds very much like her father, as does the life they lived growing up.

Set in Glasgow, this starts strangely enough, with a chapter about a family preparing a party for their oldest daughter. In it we are introduced to a number of minor characters that will reappear, often briefly, throughout the rest of the book. However, this family is not the Setons, and they too mostly disappear after this opening chapter. The story concerns the everyday doings of Elizabeth as the daughter of a churchman - her duties as such and the people she meets. Long passages are spent describing those people, their Scottish manners and attitude, and a bit of moralizing tossed in. In Olivia, written as a series of letters, these ruminations seemed natural enough, but in this book, they often appear as long speeches or explanations of Scottish life. For me, the story's saving grace is that the Elizabeth is an engaging character - I suspect very much like the author. 

The book's most poignant chapters come at the end. Most of the story takes place in the fall of 1913, but the story goers on... And with all stories set in the real world, there are unavoidable changes. For example,  August 1914 and what the start of World War One wrought to the world. These changes are reflected in its closing chapters, as the male characters go off to war, a war that killed O Douglas' youngest brother in real life. And since this story was written in 1916-17, with the war still raging on, there could be no definite conclusion to fates of many characters in fiction or real life. There were no "happily-ever-after"s in 1917.

Or as she says;

You know, of course, Gentle Reader, that there can be no end to this little chronicle? You know that when a story begins in 1913, 1914 will follow, and that in that year certainty came to an end, plans ceased to come to fruition—that, in fact, the lives of all of us cracked across. Personally, I detest tales that end in the air. I like all the strings gathered up tidily in the last chapter and tied neatly into nuptial knots….

Book Report on My 2026 Reading

A tease The Saturday Morning Post No. 197

Since 2026 is now several weeks more than half over, I thought I'd post a report on what my book reading has been like so far this year. I'm about ten weeks behind in my Saturday Morning book reports, so I may mention some books that I haven't posted yet. And I'm several books behind in the list I am using for this report, but it's close enough.

In the first half of the year I read, or at least started to read, 33 books. I (usually) rate my books on a scale of A, B, C, and DNF. I don't waste my time reading books that would end up with a grade of D or F, so the end up as DNFs. However, I did give a grade of F to one book, for reasons I will mention in a moment. Below are my grades for the books and the number of books in that grade, so far. 

A (4)     12%

B (11)   33%

C (10)   33%

DNF (7) 21%

F (1)       1%

For a total of 26 books completed, roughly one a week, which is my target this year.

I debated about listing the books, but since it would spoil the suspense for several months of Saturday Morning Post reviews, I decided not to. I will post all the books in my end of year summery.

I don't consider this to have been a stellar reading year so far, with only four excellent books. Two thirds of the books I read were either very good/good (B) or good/okay (C). I did not count the various + and - brackets within the letter grades, but still, it is hard to get too excited when most of your books being one degree of mid or another.

All of the DNFs came during the three months I had a Kindle Unlimited subscription, for $.99, and I was trying to make it worth the $.99 I paid for it, and so I was sampling books that I otherwise would not have. Those DNFs might be considered the price of finding good books.

Since my Kindle Unlimited subscription ran out, many of the books I've tried are books brought to my attention on various booktube channels. With these suggestions, I'm still ranging out of familiar reading paths, which again, might explain why my grades are so-so this year. I did find one of my "A" books this year from one such channel, the O Douglas story Olivia.

Kindle Unlimited also serve up the Master Mercurius mysteries by Graham Brack which account for two of the A's and two of the B 's on the list. The other two A's were for that picture book on train paintings, and Olivia.

Another factor in the lack of A grade books this year is that I haven't reread any books from my personal  collection - all of would likely be "A" books. Also, I haven't found that one standout author, like Georgette Heyer, Ellis Peters, or Beth Brower of recent years with lots of books to read.  I've read four O Douglas books, and while they were fine, for what they were, I found them not up to the standard of Olivia.

As for the one book that earned an "F" from me, it did so because it really made me mad. It ended with the line "To Be Continued", without any indication anywhere on the book or in the blurb that it was an incomplete story, or the first book in the series. Even so, it probably would've been a C+ book at best, but you'll have to read all about that in Saturday Morning Post No. 200.

Looking ahead I see more of the same. What I am hoping for is that Beth Brower releases a new Emma M Lion book this year, No. 9. She didn't release a book last year, being too busy traveling, doing research in England, launching the audiobook versions, and landing an UK agent for seeing her books published traditionally in Britain and France, and probably elsewhere. Anyway, once a new book is announced, I'll reread (for the third time) the whole series again.

Other than that, it will probably be sticking to authors I know, often the small domestic stories set in England and Scotland prior to WW2. There are a number of women authors that I could try, and several who I know, and who have plenty of books for me to read - books I'd just have to buy... The problem with liking old and obscure writers.

Another tease The Saturday Morning Post No. 202

Full Circle

 

An early cover idea, with my preferred spelling of "Some Day"

I hadn't realize it when I was writing my latest novel, the boring one, but with it, I've come full circle. My earliest piece of writing currently in print is the short story Kiss of the White Witch. It became, in time, the first piece of Some Day Days, A Romance in an Undetermined Number of Pieces.

I originally wrote it as a short story, sixteen or more years ago, as a response to two short stories I'd read by people my wife knew. Both of those stories were told almost without dialog. I felt they suffered for the lack of it. I felt, and still feel today, that dialog is necessary to give life to the story. So I set out to prove my theory by writing a story that was told almost entirely in dialog. I mean, if a play can tell a story in dialog, why not a plain story... or a novel? After finishing the short story, I felt compelled to write more pieces with its characters, eventually making something of a novel out of it; Some Day Days, Then, as now, I try to use as much dialog as possible to give them, and the characters, something of a life. 

The Kiss of the White Witch is a near future story set over the course of two days, at the end of an Oxford University term. It is an account of mundane events, with the characters telling each other their backstories. Nothing much happens, and indeed, all of Some Day Days is an account of a series of mundane events; a visit to Cambridge, a dinner, an online space game, setting up an apartment... and such. A story that, in the light of expectations as genre fiction, science fiction in this case, nothing happens. Nor does it offer big, far-out ideas to be explored. It's just as mundane a story as any romance or literary fiction story.

That can also be said for my latest novel, the boring one. The parallels only struck me when I started working on the second draft. This new novel also leans heavily on dialog to tell the stories it has to tell. They are all ordinary, everyday stories. Only the fact that the story is set on a world other than Earth makes it somewhat a work of speculative fiction. However, unlike the other stories in this loose series, i never mentions the Age pf Sorcery, and the Second Founding, which were featured in the plots of the previous two novels. And there is no SF-ish reveal at the end, like in the previous two. In short, plots don't get any more mundane than the plot of my new novel.

Of course there other genre books are just as mundane . I'd think most contemporary romances concern themselves with a lot of ordinary events, as does most "Chic Lit", plus, them literary novels. However, the romance in my boring novel is light, it's not aimed at any particular audience, and as a work of literature, it comes with none of the heavy baggage of ideas, themes, and pretentions that literary fiction often features. It's neither fish nor fowl. A work of speculative fiction with no speculative fiction. But too imaginary to be anything else.

Some Day Days is the closest book of mine to this new novel, and though I published it second, it was the first one written in the burst of creativity that led to the writing and publishing my first three books and then on to all the books below. It is my slowest seller, so I don't have great expectations for this new novel, my 20th. Which is just fine. Indeed, that's half the fun of this novel. It's the personal challenge to write a story that not depend on any sort of  mystery, or adventure. A vanilla story. Really, boring is challenging. And boring is the new cool... Isn't it? Or was someone pulling my leg?

Stay tuned for more updates on the boring book coming soon. Work is progressing at a pace. The next entry examines the story's inspiration, and reveals its title!

The Saturday Morning Post (No. 193)

 

Today we have another booktuber recommendation, this time from a newly discovered booktuber. She talked about a number of English women authors from the turn of the last century to its mid-point. Writers the like of Miss Read, D E Stevenson, and Molly Clavering, all of whom I have read and enjoyed. 

However, this time around, we have a new such author. How will she stack up? 

My reviewer criteria. I like light, entertaining novels. I like smaller scale stories rather than epics. I like character focused novels featuring pleasant characters, with a minimum number of unpleasant ones. I greatly value clever and witty writing. I like first person, or close third person narratives. I dislike a lot of "head jumping" between POVs and flashbacks. I want a story, not a puzzle. While I am not opposed to violence, I dislike gore for the sake of gore. I find long and elaborate fight, action, and battle sequences tedious. Plot holes and things that happen for the convenience of the author annoy me. And I fear I'm a born critic in that I don't mind pointing out what I don't like in a story. However, I lay no claim to be the final arbitrator of style and taste, you need to decide for yourself what you like or dislike in a book.

Your opinions are always welcome. Comment below.

Olivia (AKA Olivia in India)  by O Douglas  A  

This book was just what I was looking for. Indeed, I had been exploring my options both from the library and on Kindle to find some new British women authors' fiction, which includes some of my favorite authors, and whose work I haven't exhausted. And so when I came across a video talking about ten such authors. So here we are.

This is an account of several months Olivia Douglas spends visiting her government official brother during the Indian cool season. It is written as a series of letters to a good friend/lover back in England. It recounts the voyage, the people she meets, the sights she sees, and the experience of India from the point of view of an British woman prior to World War One, i.e. it is mostly a view of the thin veneer of English rule over the vast subcontinent. 

I've now read a number of stories set broadly in this period, and find them fascinating for some reason. So much so that I am considering trying to capture whatever it is about India under the  British Rah in a speculative fiction novel. No promises, just thinking. In this account, as I said, she talks mostly about the people she meets as she travels across India along with her brother. This is not a story about the Indian people, rather it is of the English living and ruling India.

O Douglas is the pen name of Anna Masterton Buchan, who is the younger sister of John Buchan of The 39 Steps fame, an old favorite author of mine, and it is based on a trip she made to India to visit one of her other Buchan brother, so it is probably an edited version of her actual experiences in India, an authentic account of the slice of life she chose to describe.

She is best membered, if she is at all for a series of domestic focused novels set in the Peeblesshire in the low lands of Scotland. I came across her on Jen's Reading Life YouTube channel in a video featuring ten British women authors prior to the 1950's, which, as I mentioned in the lede, included old favorites like Miss Reed, Molly Cavering, and D E Stevenson, as well as several others that I've read. And it just so happens that a ten novel collection of O Douglas's novels was available on Amazon, and on sale as well. So for the princely price of $.99 I have ten of her novels to explore. I hope that they will prove as interesting in their own way as this rather exotic account did. She can write... and that's more than half the battle for me. You can expect to see more book reports on O Douglas's novel in the future. Hopefully, for months in the future. I have nine left to read.

The Treasure Cave

 

The Door to the Treasure

Actually, it's more like a closet. And it will take some work, a death, and a lot of luck to make what it contains into a treasure, but it makes for a nice click-bate headline.

I've been drawing and painting all my life. Prior to 1992 I painted in watercolors, using old photographs from old picture books as references. But I realized that if I ever wanted to sell my work, I'd need to make it entirely my own work. So in 1992 I started on an imaginary journey through an imaginary land as a vagabond plein air painter, painting scenes  that I found interesting traveling the highways and byways of Cealanda. By 2003 I had painted hundreds of paintings, and with the handwriting on the wall stating that I would likely be unemployed anyway, (A large newspaper chain had bought the small daily newspaper and were hiring graphic artists that did need me to do their photoshop work) I decided to try my hand as a professional artist. Over the next five years I painted hundreds more paintings in oil and acrylic. I sold several hundred. Never for much, but that's the lot of artists. And even after I decided not to continue to pursue a commercial market, I continued to paint, for the fun of it, as I always have.

Maybe ten years ago I ran out of ideas I cared to paint, and my painting dwindled to a trickle. I almost always painted imaginary scenes, when I ran out of imaginary scenes I cared to paint I had nothing to paiting. But it didn't matter much, as I had my writing to fill the void. Writing is another thing I've done all my life.

I'm trying to get back into these days - by painting very small paintings that I can complete in an hour or two, i.e. the limit of my patience. With my  treasure cove, I don't need any more paintings because...

I still have all the paintings I didn't sell. Which was most of them. I have them stored in a closet under the stairs. Recently, after trying to select some summer paintings to put on the wall, I decided I needed real rack to hold all of them to make them easy to find and pull out. I bought one. Straightened up the closet to make it nice and neat so I and my heirs can get at the paintings easily. 

Today, I'll take you on a brief tour of that closet, so you can see the wages of not matching production with demand....

The photo above is the door to the art closet. To reach it, one must make it past the game shelves on one hand and the 2025-26 winter collection of jigsaw puzzles.

Opening the closet door we are met with two bookshelves.  Like all my bookshelves, they are actually salvaged plywood boxes that once contained printing plates - the perk of spending five years as the third shift platemaker. On the shelves most of my smaller paintings are filed standing. I have them in cellophane sleeves, two paintings to a sleeve. Most of them are 12X16" acrylic paintings on hardboard, though you can see there are several different sizes and some of them are small oil paintings. 

The plastic bag below them contain stretcher bars for the stretched canvas oil paintings that I dismantled when it came time to move seven years ago.

Below, we have  stepped into the closet and rounded the corner to look under the stairs. We have those stretcher bars, and behind them, some stretched canvas paintings, some large canvas boards, along with a couple of portfolios and a pad of watercolor canvas.

In the phot below, we have stepped further in and are now looking at my new shelves located under the steps. On the the lowest shelf are some of my standard 18x24" acrylic on hardboard paintings. I've divided  them into two groups to make it easier to sort through them. Like the smaller paintings, they are in cellophane sleeves, two to a sleeve. The second shelf up contains more 18x24" paintings as well as 16x24" ones. Hardboard comes in 48x24" sheets, so I can cut it to get either 3 16x24" or 2 18x24" boards for paintings with one 12x24" one. The 18x24" painting fit nicely into 24x30" frames with 3" mattings making them my preferred size. You don't need to frame acrylic paintings under glass, but I do, because a 24x30" frame makes them appear bigger on the wall.

Below, we take just a further step under the stairs to see where all my oil paintings are stored. They were painted on stretched canvas. You can see some of those standing against the wall on the left - stretched canvas that I bought. Later on, I bought my own roll of canvas and the stretcher bars and made my own stretched canvases to paint on. These I could disassemble, unlike the ones I bought and did to make moving them easier, and safer. All those oil paintings are stored flat in the blue box and plywood boxes beyond the shelving.

Below. The seven boxes on the top of the shelf, contain the hundreds of watercolor and thin acrylic paintings I did before turning professional, and after I did. I quickly discovered that watercolor paintings don't command a great deal of money, so I had to switch to oil and than acrylic paints. Which I hated, until I didn't anymore.

I've not inventoried the paintings I have on hand. Once I started selling them, I numbered them as I went along. My records show that I painted 282 oil paintings of various sizes, and 25 watercolor paintings ibn that period. I haven't counted all the watercolors I painted prior to 2003. I also painted 55 small, 5x7" "bookshelf" acrylic paintings, and 1,207 acrylic paintings up until 2015 or so when I mostly stopped painting and counting the ones I did. All of which is a total of 1,569 paintings that I have kept records for. I sold something like 300 of them. I haven't bothered to record paintings since then, and I don't know how many watercolors I did in the eleven years between 1912 and 2003, but they fill those seven big flat film boxes on the top shelf, likely 300-400+. Bottom line, I have a lot of paintings, to choose from when I change them out every season.  

The Summer Collection