shaeconnorwrites

Today my guest is Anne Barwell, here to talk about how music plays a role in her writing, and especially in her new title, On Wings of Song.

Music/Music Hall

Thanks, Shae, for hosting me today. 🙂

My stories often have some kind of music reference in them, whether it is that the characters are musicians—Simon, Sean, Kristopher and Michel—or it plays a larger part in the plot such as in Winter Duet, Cat’s Quill, and Slow Dreaming.

In On Wings of Song, both of those elements combine to become a big part of the story.

When I first got the idea for the story, I knew that one of the characters, Aiden, would be involved in Music Hall.  I’ve played for the modern equivalent, Musical Theatre, as rehearsal pianist, and also as a violinist in the band for shows.  One of the shows I was involved in celebrated Music Hall and the music of that time. Another was an ANZAC commemoration.  I also played piano for church in Christmas services for many years, and so having Aiden sing for the combined service during the Christmas Truce was also a given.

One of the bonuses about writing a story set in the early part of the 20^th century is that a lot of the lyrics are out of copyright. The music Jochen hears when he attends a performance at the Avery Theatre are actual songs of the time—and earlier.  The library had a wonderful book: Edwardian Song Book – Drawing-room ballads 1900-1914 from the catalogue of Boosey & Co – selected and introduced by Michael R Turner and Antony Miall.  As well as containing sheet music so I could play the songs and hear them, it had a brief history of them and their composers.

With the first and last chapters set around Christmas, it was also an opportunity to use Christmas Carols.  I didn’t want to use the same one twice, as the story needed to move forward, not backwards.  In the finish the songs chose themselves and worked perfectly for Jochen and Aiden and where they are in their lives at each point of the story.

During the Christmas Truce, many men exchanged uniform buttons, as Aiden and Jochen did. However, it’s not the physical reminder of their meeting that keeps Jochen going through the horrors of his war time experience, or the connection between himself and Aiden. It’s also the memory of Aiden’s singing, and how it touched him.

But once that song is over, what then?  If a man has lost himself in his music, or in someone else’s, is it that easy to pick up the melody again years later?   To quote from the story: “That stage was everything to you. You used to lose yourself in it, and sometimes I wondered if that was really a good thing. A man’s got to find himself before he can lose himself in a role.”

Music and literature are the song by which Aiden and Jochen meet, but six years later both of them have changed. The war has exacted a high price on both of them. In different ways they have both lost the music within them. Because of this, in order to find each other, they will first need to find themselves.

Buy link:

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5869

Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.

The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

Excerpt

“I’ve seen it,” Aiden said quietly. “I wish to God I hadn’t.” He looked directly at Jochen. Jochen met Aiden’s gaze. He’d seen an echo of Conrad’s fire in Aiden when he’d talked about his music earlier that afternoon.

“Don’t die on the wire, Aiden.”

“I’ll try not to.” Aiden’s words were an empty promise. They both knew it, but what else was he going to say?

The red-haired man Aiden had spoken to about arranging the burials walked over to him. He too held a shovel, and he wiped perspiration from his brow despite the cold. “There’s going to be a combined service for the dead,” he told them. “In about ten minutes in no man’s land in front of the French trenches.”

As they made their way over, men were already beginning to gather, soldiers from opposite sides sitting together, conversation dwindling to a respectful silence. A British chaplain stood in front of them, a Bible in his hand, a German beside him. Jochen recognized him, although he didn’t know his name. The young man was only a few years older than Jochen and was studying for the ministry—would he ever get the chance to complete those studies?

Jochen and Aiden found somewhere to sit a few rows back from the front and joined the company of men. The German spoke first. “Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel. Geheiligt werde dein Name.”

The British chaplain repeated the words in English. “Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.”

They then spoke a few words each, some from the Bible, the rest from their hearts. Their congregation was silent apart from a few quiet “amens.” Jochen saw a couple of men wipe tears away. He was close to it himself.

Finally the chaplain bowed his head in prayer. When he’d finished, he spoke quietly to the man who had come to stand next to him. It was Captain Williams. He nodded and looked over the crowd, his gaze fixing on Aiden.

Aiden must have guessed what Williams wanted. He inclined his head in response and then stood. Jochen glanced between the two men, confused. What did Williams expect Aiden to do?

“Aiden?” Jochen asked softly.

Aiden smiled at him and began to sing. “O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining….” He lifted his head, his voice strong and clear, each note building on the last to create something truly beautiful, something angelic. Aiden’s eyes shone; his body swayed slightly in time with the music. He was the music.

His audience sat in awe. Jochen could feel the emotion rippling through the men around him, tangible, as though he could reach out and touch it. He felt something inside himself reach out, wanting to be a part of it, to be carried along the wave of pure music, to grab it and never let go.

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand.  She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.

In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.

She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

Links:

Blog:  http://anne-barwell.livejournal.com/

Website: http://annebarwell.wordpress.com/

Coffee Unicorns:  http://coffeeunicorns.wordpress.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/anne.barwell.1

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4862410.Anne_Barwell

Dreamspinner Press Author Page: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_426

Today’s guest is Grace R. Duncan, here to talk about her new novella Healing, which is set in the post-pandemic world as her previous story Celebrating You. Take it away, Grace!

When I sat down to start writing in my post-pandemic world, I didn’t do what I’ve advised others to do, what I’ve done for my other world—the Golden Collar world. In that world, I made a map. I wrote out names and titles. I decided on money and food.
Of course, the Pandemus world isn’t the same. It’s, essentially, our world but with a lot less people. And a lot more dangerous. So while I did my world building, most of it was in my head.

One of the biggest questions I had to ask myself, of course, was “How do they survive?” I mean, most of the time, we go to the grocery store (or wherever) and pick up our groceries and toiletries and we don’t give it a second thought. What happens when you can’t do that anymore? How do you eat? What about clean clothes? How do you clean up?
Now, anyone who’s watched any sort of post-apocalyptic movie has already thought about this. I’ve made it no secret that Stephen King’s The Stand helped inspire my world (though, without the creepy old black lady, scary crows, and an overarching good vs evil plot). It certainly gave me food for thought while I figured out things like… how many died? That’s going to make a big difference. If there are still lots and lots of people, then the scramble for food is much harder.
But I wanted an empty world. I wanted opportunity. Pandemus is meant to be a character-driven series of stories, not world-driven.

To that end, I decided a huge chunk of the population would be wiped out, leaving maybe twenty percent of the population. Some of that, of course, was from causes other than the virus, but that doesn’t matter. The end result is the same.

Because there are so few left, there’s plenty of stuff lying around. Canned and dried foods that aren’t going bad anytime soon. Obviously, eventually, these things will run out, but as Pandemus starts roughly three years out from the virus, that isn’t the case yet.

But it also means that those not willing to approach the corrupt cities would have to keep scavenging for useable supplies. Mark and Duncan are two such, the same as Jake from Celebrating You. It felt safer, easier to them. Each new place would have more canned goods, more dried fruit and jerky, more nuts, and so on.

Deciding things like these gave me a new appreciation for all I don’t have to do to survive. The idea that it could conceivably be days before I found something edible is a frightening prospect. I’m glad the Kroger down the street isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

As long as I don’t get sick…

When Duncan stumbles into a pharmacy in search of something to fix his broken leg, he’s surprised to find someone else there. Like the rest of the post-pandemic world, it appeared empty. Instead, he discovers Mark, a former nurse who walked away from his profession after losing too many patients to the virus.

Despite swearing he’d never practice medicine again, Mark patches Duncan up over Duncan’s protests. He even finds an abandoned house in the tiny town, and they settle in until Duncan heals enough to look out for himself. Much to the chagrin of both, they find themselves caring for each other.

Duncan welcomes it, thrilled at finding someone he can trust. However, he’s well aware of the shadows in Mark’s eyes and understands Mark’s reticence as he learns the story. But as he’s starting to do things for himself again, Duncan realizes he doesn’t want Mark to leave. He’s not sure if can get Mark to let go of his fears so they can stay together and love. But Duncan’s damned sure going to try.

Buy links:
Dreampsinner
Amazon
AllRomance eBooks

Excerpt:

He should have known better. Under normal circumstances, it was a stupid move, but right here, right now, “stupid” didn’t begin to cover it.

Duncan glared at his leg for another moment, then leaned his head back against the wall. He needed to keep moving. It hurt like hell, but he had to keep going. It wasn’t going to get better on its own. The gash needed to be cleaned and bandaged, and even if the break wasn’t bad, it should at least be braced. And it wasn’t like he could call an ambulance. Or even go into an emergency room.

Well, he supposed he could go into an emergency room, if he was in the city. But like a lot of other people, he avoided the cities whenever possible. And when it wasn’t, he stayed as far on the edge as he could. But even there, it was a dangerous risk. As corrupt as the cities were now, the price of anything was higher than most could pay. He’d heard rumors that, in some of the worst cities, people simply got shot if they couldn’t pay what the thugs in power wanted. It was all rumor, but rumor he wasn’t about to ignore.

So he did his damnedest to stay away.

He’d been stupid to jump off the ledge. Even at only a couple of feet higher than he was tall, the risk hadn’t been worth it. He’d have thought, after nearly three years, he’d learned how to be more careful and not take those kinds of risks. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen and hurt himself—though, thankfully, the last one hadn’t involved a broken bone. Maybe it should have; he might have learned his lesson then.

“Really fucking stupid, Dun.”

Duncan steeled himself and pulled to his feet, grimacing when the sharp pain shot up his ankle and through his leg. “Fuck,” he muttered, breathing hard through his nose. When he finally focused past the pain, he looked up and noted the position of the sun, the only real indication he had for the time, and figured he had another good hour or two of light. If he was right about where he was, he wouldn’t need all of it. He tucked the stick he’d found under his arm, grimaced when it dug into the soft flesh, but then leaned on it and hobbled along again.

Praise for GRACE R. DUNCAN
“I really enjoyed the characters, and loved watching them on their journey. Duncan does a great job of giving a really detailed story, and taking us on a great ride as two men find their happily ever after.”   —Joyfully Jay, on “No Sacrifice”

“There were so many wonderful themes going on in this story, I was wrapped up in them all and couldn’t wait to see how Grace brought them all together.” —Love Bytes Reviews, on “No Sacrifice”

“I don’t really read a lot of historical fiction but some of it is damn good, including Grace Duncan’s Choices… The world building is excellent and draws you right in. The character development is also wonderful.” —Mrs. Condit & Friends Reads Books, on “Choices”

Grace’s Bio:

Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age—many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.

A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children—both the human and furry kind.

As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.

Grace’s website: http://www.grace-duncan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GraceRDuncan2
Twitter: @GraceRDuncan