The Other Side of the Ice #Excerpt by @TheobaldSprague #Memoir #Climate #Divorce

As we rolled into the next day and the sun was illuminating the fog around us, Dominique saw an extremely large target that wasn’t moving, especially out of our way. The persistent, heavy fog that had settled in around 2 a.m. gave an ethereal feel to a light not quite twilight or dawn. Yet what was now showing up on the radar four miles to the north was so large neither fog nor low light could hide it; our first official sighting of an ice- berg was an amazingly impressive one in that this berg had to have been at least a thousand feet long and more than 100 feet high. The fog was playing tricks in that first this “thing” was there, then it wasn’t. When I could see it, my immediate impression of the massive hulk in the fog was that of an aircraft carrier. It had to be, nothing was that big and tall and actually moved.

As there wasn’t sufficient light to photograph it, Dominique and I went through every possibility we could so that we could define it for the others as they revolved into the watch schedule; there were no rectangular, steep-sided islands charted for the area and it was too irregular to be any sort of cargo ship. Looking at it through the glasses, we could see the jagged and rough outline it presented against the northern sky. There was no doubting that it was truly a mountain of ice. And, as the minutes ticked by, our sighting was confirmed by the presence of several others—albeit not half as large— mini-islands of ice. By now all were up and crammed into the pilothouse, all with cameras in hand and soft exclamations about the size and power of these giants. The first sighting of ice is one that I will never forget. It’s no exaggeration when I realized that the icebergs held power, strength, drive, and a presence that could truly not care less about who you are or where it is you

want to go. They travel along silently. Seas break against their frozen and rock-hard surfaces, exploding with furious impotence as this massive structure of blue-brown-white ice keeps its determined course. Yet, as we were to learn, their presence wasn’t always known. A few hours later, I’d rotated out of watch and was below cleaning up when I heard Dominique say from the pilothouse, “Jesus, that one didn’t even show up on radar.”

It was hard to ignore such a comment so I went up to join her and immediately saw that we were now in the company of many more of these floating, silent icy sentinels and, sure enough, a particularly large one about three miles off our bows failed to register even as much as a blip on the radars. Yet some smaller ones, perhaps the size of Volkswagen Beetles, stood out bright and conspicuous on the green electronic screens.

All through that foggy morning, as many sets of eyes that were available were glued to either one of the two radars as ice targets and bearings were called out to the helmsman of the hour.

No exaggeration to say there were five sets of nerves on a knife edge. As the hours ticked by and the heat of the morning sun started to cook off some of the fog, we became more accustomed to the ice and a bit emboldened. I asked Clinton to take us closer to a particularly large iceberg that had amazing shapes, ledges, tiny waterfalls, and brilliant deep, ice-blue colors glowing from within. Very capably and with great precision, Clinton all but driftedBagan up to this massive berg.

On the grand scale of things, it was far from massive but when you’re in a boat one-tenth its size, it fit the definition of “massive.”

A sailor and his family’s harrowing and inspiring story of their attempt to sail the treacherous Northwest Passage.

Sprague Theobald, an award-winning documentary filmmaker and expert sailor with over 40,000 offshore miles under his belt, always considered the Northwest Passage–the sea route connecting the Atlantic to the Pacific–the ultimate uncharted territory. Since Roald Amundsen completed the first successful crossing of the fabled Northwest Passage in 1906, only twenty-four pleasure craft have followed in his wake. Many more people have gone into space than have traversed the Passage, and a staggering number have died trying. From his home port of Newport, Rhode Island, through the Passage and around Alaska to Seattle, it would be an 8,500-mile trek filled with constant danger from ice, polar bears, and severe weather.

What Theobald couldn’t have known was just how life-changing his journey through the Passage would be. Reuniting his children and stepchildren after a bad divorce more than fifteen years earlier, the family embarks with unanswered questions, untold hurts, and unspoken mistrusts hanging over their heads. Unrelenting cold, hungry polar bears, and a haunting landscape littered with sobering artifacts from the tragic Franklin Expedition of 1845, as well as personality clashes that threaten to tear the crew apart, make The Other Side of the Ice a harrowing story of survival, adventure, and, ultimately, redemption.

( TO WATCH THE OFFICIAL HD TEASER FOR “The Other Side of The Ice” [book and documentary] PLEASE GO TO: VIMEO.COM/45526226) 

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Genre – Memoir, adventure, family, climate

Rating – PG

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Website www.spraguetheobald.com

The Soul of the World by @jg_silverman #Fantasy #AmReading #ReviewShare

The Soul of the World by Joshua Silverman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The writing definitely deserves applause. This is definitely better than the first book in the series. All of the characters are complex. The fantasy elements are richly developed. From start to finish, the pace is fast and does not lag. There were no unnecessary dialogue or scenes, especially ones that did not connect to the key focus of the book. In the end, everything was connected.

The protagonist has a driven goal which by 30% of the book has the reader rooting in his favour. Good or bad, his reactions were strong and clear in a way that made me like him even more. Despite the need to do what others wanted him to do, he was intent on finding his way.

An easy story to read and even better story to love. Four stars from me.

Disclosure - As a Quality Reads UK Book Club member, I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. I received no monetary compensation for my book review. This book review is based on my thoughts, opinion and understanding of the book. This book review does not reflect the opinion of other book club members.

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Dance for a Dead Princess by Deborah Hawkins @DeborahHawk3 #Mystery #Romance #ReviewShare

Dance for a Dead Princess by Deborah Hawkins
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is one of those books that is a great conversation starter and can make conversations go on for a long time because you'll want to turn every angle around so nothing is missed. If it isn't already obvious, I love mysteries.

The theory or rumour that Princess Diana knew of her assassination plan is a strong point of debate. That alone would have anyone scrambling to read this book. Some readers will point out that the involvement of royalty was nothing but a mcguffin but I think it draws on the idea of how we perceive people which is the very foundation of this book.

Both main characters perceive each other in a strong, stubborn manner which later has them backtracking. I had just finished an Atwood book when I got to this so my expectations were high. The introduction felt forced but by the time you reached 25%, you start to have a relationship with the characters and there's no turning back.

If you are looking for a fabulous "carry you away" type read, this is it. The characters are human and wonderful. They are frail and faulty. You can see yourself in each one of the decisions they must make. It's not the "rending of the loincloth" type romance, either, and I'm so happy it’s not.

Disclosure - As a Quality Reads UK Book Club member, I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. I received no monetary compensation for my book review. This book review is based on my thoughts, opinion and understanding of the book. This book review does not reflect the opinion of other book club members.


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@MargaretWestlie on the Origins of 'Anna's Secret' #Historical #Mystery #AmWriting

I have been steeped in the stories about my ancestors since my birth. They may have even seeped into me through the walls of the womb. Anna’s Secret is a story I’ve heard many times from various people. The latest version was from my Uncle Harold. He said that one of our own people was suspected of the crime of murdering Anne Beaton with a turnip hoe. It was said that she was no better than she should be and was doing a little marital wandering with someone in the community. For a long time the smithy was suspected. He was in custody for a period but was finally exonerated and left Prince Edward Island for good. Ultimately the authorities decided that the crime was perpetrated by a woman and was in fact, a crime of passion. This last was pronounced with great relish. They never found the person responsible. It seems that Anne had greatly riled a wronged wife, and probably several.

The story caught my imagination and I began to wonder: what if she wasn’t who they thought she was? What if the reason for her murder was entirely different? What if the murderer was discovered? Who would it be? Her husband? The wronged woman? The man she was said to be involved with? There was a lot to play with here. In a technical sense, how close to reality could I be without offending descendents? Not too close, I decided. Anyway, it’s more fun to write what pops into my mind and see how it plays out.

As I wrote, the narrative opened like a flower as I examined the individuals who I decided were involved. Who were they? What relationship did they hold to Anna and to her family and to each other? How did Old Annie figure into it? After all she was a daft old woman who had to be transported to gatherings in a wheelbarrow because she couldn’t be left alone. Most of the time she didn’t know anyone and lived in her mind very far in the past with people she knew in her youth. What did she have to do with Anna’s murder? After all, she and Anna had been life-long friends.

And what did it do to the community? Their sense of safety was shattered and people took to locking their doors, some even in the daytime. This was in a community that never locked its doors even in my grandmother’s time. I remember this from my childhood. The only time the door was locked was if they were going to be away for an extended period because, what if someone needed something and they weren’t home to give it to them? I remember my own mother telling me a story about an old man who peddled goods and trinkets door-to-door. He was a little simple as they say here. They woke up one morning and discovered him asleep on the lounge with a blazing fire in the stove. After the murder, people were afraid to walk out alone at night.

As the story progressed it took awhile for me to realize who the real perpetrator was and the denouement was almost as much a surprise to me as it will be to you.

Anna Gillis, the midwife and neighbour in Mattie’s Story, has been found killed. The close-knit community is deeply shaken by this eruption of violence, and neighbours come together to help one another and to discover the perpetrator. But the answer lies Anna’s secret, long guarded by Old Annie, the last of the original Selkirk Settlers, and the protagonist of An Irregular Marriage. Join the community! Read Anna’s Secret and other novels by Margaret A. Westlie.

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Genre – Fiction, mystery, historical

Rating – G

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Website http://www.margaretwestlie.com

Lights Over Emerald Creek by @ShelleyDavidow #AmReading #SciFi #YA

Three of the true life mysteries behind Lights Over Emerald Creek – 524

When Lucy investigates strange lights over the creek at the bottom of the property, she discovers a mystery that links the lights to the science of cymatics, Scotland’s ancient Rosslyn Chapel, and Saturn’s mysterious hexagonal storm. But just what are the real life mysteries behind Lights Over Emerald Creek.

The Hexagonal Storm on Saturn’s North Pole

For the past 29 years, the planet Saturn has had its north pole in darkness, as it moved through its very long night. Then, as the polar region emerged into day light, the Cassini craft flew by and, in 2007, took stunning photographs of a bizarre hexagonal storm above Saturn’s north pole. The storm is about 29,000 kilometers in diameter, and although no one knows the cause of this storm, NASA says this:

The six-sided shape remains a mystery. Scientists think the hexagon is a meandering jet stream at 77 degrees north latitude, but they don’t know what controls the path the stream takes. These images also show new phenomena for scientists to decipher…

For more information about the Cassini-Huygens mission, or to see images, visit http://saturn.jpl.nasa.gov.

The Cassini imaging team homepage is at http://ciclops.org.

Article quote from: http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/cassini/multimedia/cassini20091209.html

Cymatics. Music creates Geometric Shapes

Cymatics is the name used to describe the intricate geometric forms that arise when salt is sprinkled on a copper plate and exposed to sound vibrations. Each musical note is a frequency that results in varying geometric forms. Galileo Galilei apparently first wrote about it in 1632. In 1680 Robert Hook ran a violin bow along the edge of a glass plate covered with flour and noticed amazing geometric patterns. In 1787 Ernst Chladni was the person who exposed this knowledge to the public when he published ‘Discoveries in the Theories of Sound.’ The word ‘Cymatics’ comes from the Greek ta kymatika meaning ‘matters pertaining to waves. Each musical note has a representative geometric form.

For more information on Cymatics, look at: Hans Jenny Cymatics http://www.rexresearch.com/cymatics/cymatics.htm

A Real Secret Code in Scotland’s Rosslyn Chapel

In 2007, in Scotland, musicologists Stuart Mitchell and his father David, cracked a weird ‘code’ that was embedded in the relief carvings inside Scotland’s Rosslyn Chapel. Strange cubes with geometric patterns carved into the structure of the chapel, combined with a stave angel with its fingers pointing to musical notes finally made sense to the father and son who had been working on this puzzle for years: the geometric patterns were musical notes, ‘frozen music’, or images of Cymatics patterns carved into the walls of the chapel hundreds of years ago. When the musicologists established which notes were portrayed, they played them. Out of that came a piece of music they’ve called the ‘Rosslyn Motet’. It can be heard on: http://www.tjmitchell.com/stuart/saturnvideo/rossmotet.mp3

And … Stuart Mitchell believes that the pattern on Saturn is a actually a giant version of Cymatics, and that the planet is generating the equivalent of a musical score. Radio waves recorded from Saturn and translated into sound can be heard here: http://www-pw.physics.uiowa.edu/space-audio/cassini/SKR2/casskrtrig04207a.wav

And though this may be a co-incidence, if you play the Rosslyn motet together with the radio-waves from Saturn, you hear something really interesting: http://www.tjmitchell.com/stuart/saturnvideo/signalross.mp3

Lucy Wright, sixteen and a paraplegic after a recent car accident that took her mother's life, lives in Queensland on a 10,000 acre farm with her father. When Lucy investigates strange lights over the creek at the bottom of the property, she discovers a mystery that links the lights to the science of cymatics and Scotland’s ancient Rosslyn Chapel.

But beyond the chapel is an even larger mystery. One that links the music the chapel contains to Norway’s mysterious Hessdalen lights, and beyond that to Saturn and to the stars. Lucy’s discoveries catapult her into a parallel universe connected to our own by means of resonance and sound, where a newly emerging world trembles on the edge of disaster. As realities divide, her mission in this new world is revealed and she finds herself part of a love story that will span the galaxy.

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Genre - Young Adult SF

Rating - PG

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The Curse Giver by @DoraMachado #Fantasy #Paranormal #AmReading

THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE LOST to Lusielle. Her life was a jumbled sequence of snippets, blurry images breaking up long periods of dense darkness, triggered by a sudden jostle or a twinge of pain, cold, heat or thirst. She spotted glimpses of a gray sky, spitting out rain, and campfires burning deep in the woods. There was more rain, and a face—his face—hovering just beyond reach.

Occasionally, sound trickled into her muffled world from a distant place. The wind rustled through the trees. The horses’ hooves pounded on dirt, gravel, and mud. Men spoke, snorted, muttered and snored. A low, measured voice—his voice—echoed very near, urging her to drink, eat or sleep, accompanied by the pervasive masculine scent that was her constant companion.

There were times when she came to just enough to realize that she existed in the world in-between, where gods and mortals met in dreams, where dreams and reality were one and the same. In those moments, she realized that she survived only because of someone else’s will, that if she wanted a future, she had to wake up and seize it. She kept trying, even though it required great effort, like swimming against a colossal tide.

“This way,” the voice said.

She felt listless as a corpse, but she grabbed on to that voice and followed it to a semblance of consciousness. Fighting her heavy eyelids, she managed to glimpse the man’s stern face, outlined against a background of pewter clouds.

Brennus.

She rode with him on his horse, wrapped in an oiled mantle, mostly protected from the rain. His strong arms kept her from slipping off the massive beast. His armored chest offered a hard but steady pillow. The beat of his heart echoed through the copper plates, strong, vibrant, and enthralling.

He must have realized that she was awake, because his stare swooped down on her like a hawk on the prowl, even though his voice was gentle. “Hush,” he said. “We won’t be too much longer on the road today.”

His eyes were lined with worry and exhaustion. So were the faces of the other men who rode with him. All of them were wet, tired and miserable, picking their way up a steep mountain track as the relentless rain continued to pelt them. That same rain was dripping from Brennus’s face, drenching his hair and trickling down his neck.

“The rain,” she whispered. “It’s making you wet.” She reached out to dry the water from his face, but the wound on her back protested with a pang of pain.

He caught her hand and tucked it back into the blanket. “It’s no use,” he said. “You can’t keep me dry.”

“One can try,” she said.

And he actually smiled.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“South of nowhere and north of wherever,” he said. “Far from the usual routes. We’re seven days out.”

Seven days was an awful long time to be senseless among strangers.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Riva’s not going to find us.”

She winced when the horse missed a step.

“Hato!” Brennus called.

Why was he barking like that?

There was splashing, the sound of hooves clattering and then, “My lord?”

“We’ve got to stop. The fever’s back and she’s hurting again.”

“No place to stop around here, my lord,” the other man said.

“Send Severo and Cirillo ahead,” he said. “Tell them to find a decent camp and get a fire going. She’s got to rest.”

“My lord,” he said, “we have pressing business. We can’t slow down to accommodate her comfort—”

“Do you want her alive or not?”

The other man sighed. “As you wish, my lord.” He rode away.

She tried to tell him that she was fine, but ended up whimpering instead.

“Shush,” he whispered in her ear. “You need to sleep.”

And by the Thousand Gods, off she went, at his command, into the darkness again, following his heart’s steady rhythm as it sang a lullaby to her heart.

Award-Winning Finalist in the fantasy category of The 2013 USA Best Book Awards, sponsored by USA Book News

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Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy

Rating – PG-18

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Website http://www.doramachado.com/

@ScottMoonWriter Dissects Pseudonyms & Writing #SciFi #AmWriting #WriteTip

Three reasons authors use pen names:

1)      To avoid embarrassment

2)      To try something new

3)      To avoid genre confusion

Points two and three are related, and in this case, using a pen name is probably a good idea. The readers of your bestselling spy thriller might not be interested in your young adult novel. And it might be hard to promote a story book for kids and the next 50 Shades of Gray on the same web site. Establishing a pen name for each genre you choose to write could be a good idea.

Danger:

Facebook and Google have strong prohibitions against multiple identities, and frankly, it isn’t easy to create multiple profiles. I looked into it, and found the process beyond my moderate computer skills and the warning flags scared the daylight out of me. Could an independent author succeed after being banned from both Facebook and Google?

Not likely.

Goodbye social media. Goodbye author platform.

But if you must:

Kindle Direct Publishing allows the use of pen names. I researched this option because I write Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Crime Thrillers. Like many writers, I mix and match with pretentions to try about anything that can be made with words, including Romance, Steampunk, Historical Fiction, and various hybrid genres no one is likely to ever read.

Call me a daydreamer who writes, and you wouldn’t be wrong.

It is easy to create Twitter profiles and blogs, but I always worry that an internet user with more skill than I’ll ever have will immediately see that all the profiles are the same person. My decision not to use a pen name comes down to time management. I’d rather write than decipher Facebook.

A good argument against pen names:

One of the keys to selling books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords is the ever-popular backlist. Simply put, the more books you publish, the more they promote each other. Search engines find your name and your work more frequently. Loyal readers try other things you have written.

It’s a veritable paradise of indie-publishing glory.

Okay, it’s a lot harder than the Instantly Sell Millions of Books in your Spare Time and Never Work Again books make it seem. Developing an author platform is hard work. It takes time to write the books, fiction or nonfiction, and more time to market them.

Why diffuse your efforts using multiple pen names?

I believe using pen names in a smart, responsible way is a viable strategy for both indie and traditional authors. My advice is to proceed with caution.

What’s your advice?

I read more blogs than I write. If you have thoughts on pen names, or recommended articles, please let me know. This is a topic I’ve considered deeply and researched to the best of my knowledge, which is to say, I’m a student a welcome your advice.

Lost Hero

Changed by captivity and torture, hunted by the Reapers of Hellsbreach and wanted by Earth Fleet, Kin Roland hides on a lost planet near an unstable wormhole.

When a distant space battle propels a ravaged Earth Fleet Armada through the same wormhole, a Reaper follows, hunting for the man who burned his home world. Kin fights to save a mysterious native of Crashdown from the Reaper and learns there are worse things in the galaxy than the nightmare hunting him. The end is coming and he is about to pay for a sin that will change the galaxy forever. 

Books

Enemy of Man: Book One in the Chronicles of Kin Roland was written for fans of military science fiction and science fiction adventure. Readers who enjoyed Starship Troopers or Space Marines will appreciate this genre variation. Powered armor only gets a soldier so far. Battlefield experience, guts, and loyal friends make Armageddon fun. 

Movies

If you love movies like Aliens, Predator, The Chronicles of Riddick, or Serenity, then you might find the heroes and creatures in Enemy of Man dangerous, determined, and ready to risk it all. It’s all about action and suspense, with a dash of romance—or perhaps flash romance. 

From the Author

Thanks for your interest in my novel, Enemy of Man. I hope you chose to read the book and enjoy every page. 

If you have already read Enemy of Man, how was it? Reviews are appreciated! 

Have a great day and be safe.

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – R

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