My Book has an Interview

Airdrie Alberta, the city I live near, has a radio station. I noticed it about a year ago, driving down main street. Something I try not to do often – the driving. Not the noticing.
I decided to go in and see if they might be interested in interviewing a local author – me – on one of their shows.
Surprise! They really did want to interview local talent. Not just authors, but it sounds like they want local song artists and other local talent to show up and inquire about being on a show sometime.
I talked to the Program Manager – Kevin Wallace – first. We scheduled a time for me to talk to Andrea Montgomery, the program anchor, I think (sorry Andrea I forgot to get your title), the following week.
On Friday, with my heart beating wildly, my mouth alternating between watering and drying out entirely, I entered the station. Andrea made the whole process of being interviewed painless and fun. She kept my eyes away from this honking huge microphone sitting just above my mouth, but to one side, asked questions, and sounded interested in my responses.
Andrea even blogged about the book.
I’d like to send a big thank you to Air106.1fm Airdrie for the opportunity to tell our community about my book.
Thank you so much.


Maybe The Princess Gene

I grew up before Disney sanitized fairy tales. Reading Grimms Fairy Tales and Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairy Tales in their unadulterated form did colour my world. Sure, I remember Puss and Boots as a mild pet-helping poor owner winning story. Did I believe It? Not a chance.
I read Rapunzel and Snow White and one about the swan brothers depending on their sister to weave them shirts of thistles to free them from the evil enchantment. I read about the evil magician/step mother getting their comeuppance. I probably cheered for the underdogs in every instance.
Did you notice the underdogs depicted in the tales usually were poor citizens in their country and the tale gave them a sort of equalization with the wealthy?
I did wholly identify with one fairy tale – the Princess and the Pea. I embraced that concept of physical sensitivity denoting royalty. I really did.
See, I’m the type of person who needs a totally crease/wrinkle free sheet to sleep on. Any imperfection in my bottom sheet, any whatsoever, causes disturbed sleep. I will strip my bed and smooth that sheet in the middle of the night if I wake with a wrinkle under me.
Now, growing up, my mother insisted our top sheet and blanket meet her ‘quarter’ test – no, she didn’t actually try to bounce a quarter on the smoothed bedding. But she’d look the bed over, making us redo until our beds met her criteria.
But my mother is all about appearances. Surface appearances. Sure, if the bedroom door was open, and if a neighbour happened to come over, or heavens forbid, one of our relatives ‘saw’ the messy bed, whatever standing my mother had in our family/neighbourhood might drop several points.
I, on the other hand, saw no reason to have the top sheets and blankets unwrinkled. They didn’t interfere with my sleep. Because I’m into comfort. Plain and simple. I swear I can feel a crumb under the mattress – yes my husband occasionally eats in bed. A wrinkle in the sheet will have me awake and restless until I smooth that sheet. A crease in my pillowcase brings nightmares until I fix it. Heaven forbid I get a crushed pillow corner. I tried those flannelette sheets. Heard they’re great for warmth during winter sleeps. And yes, I’ll admit they seem to hold body heat a little better. But after two or three washings they pill. Tiny threads of the combed cotton tangle together into miniscule hard balls of sleep-deprived insanity and running that damned sweater-pill-remover over the sheet. In the middle of the night. Not just once, either. Invariably I’ll get back into bed, drop off to sleep, only to discover another tiny ball disturbing my sleep. So I start all over again, sweeping my hand over every surface my body might move into, dragging the battery-operated remover over it. I denuded one fairly new flannelette sheet, actually wore it down to bare warp and weft threads, in just one night.
That was the last time I slept on flannelette sheets.
I’m that picky about my sleeping surface.
If you remember anything about the Princess and the Pea, Hans Christian Anderson story, you’ll remember that the queen, in her search for the perfect princess for her princely son to marry, placed a pea deep under many mattresses and had  young women sleep for the night in the baited room. Only royalty could possibility have such innate physical sensitivity, you understand.
I would have passed the test, won the prince’s hand. I have the Princess gene, according to that fairy tale.

Me, Writing Fiction

I love to write fiction. I get an idea, start to flesh it out, loving every moment.


Well, there’s always an until.

This all depends on whether I’m writing a story that is set on this Earth. Right here, right now, and I have no problems. I live here. I can describe life happening and ever reader understands.

It’s when the story decides it’s not right here, right now.

It might be set hundreds of years ago. So, at least for me, I have to delve into the history of my locale. And the geography – sigh. I do that because geography changes. The Earth isn’t static. It moves around.

You know, I read that it takes millions of years for mountains to form, or rivers to change courses.

Found out that isn’t totally true. Just look at a picture of California 100 years ago. Compare it to a pic taken recently.  That’s a major seacoast change.

The Himalayas grow over an inch every year – depending on who you follow for the facts – so their profile changes.

And rivers, especially after they flood, make major changes on our surface.

So I research my chosen site, hoping my story won’t have to change too much once I’ve drawn what it looks like from fact to my imagination.

And whoa, hold on, if I’m writing about somewhere other than Earth. Now I have to figure out that planets physics. Its significant continent or city. Get it real in my head.

Heaven help me if I’ve added magic. Now I have to set up a workable system.

When I read other’s tales I check out their facts. I’ll stop reading if they can’t get facts straight. Unless they’ve managed to work into their tale just how all this stuff works.

That’s why I have trouble reading many of the Steampunk stories. Some of them just haven’t done their research.

Call me a purist.