Wow! Fantasy adventure, mystery and reality all rolled into one. Lillian might be looking into a crystal ball, but all else can only see what she, the Dreamer, reveals.
Peach has us looking through that crystal ball revealing window, always. Yet, are we looking into a garden filled with verdant life, or from the garden into a darkness? Perhaps death? In fact, the author takes us to both sides & then a third.
The saga opens in a time long ago. Two brothers, Dustin and Cody, slay a fire breathing dragon. It’s a well planned battle, and the brothers emerge heroes.
Peach quickly takes us to a second revealing window. We are in a different time. Place? I was compelled to ask the author a few questions.
Peach – Well, I haven’t ever visited a catacomb or a crypt, though I’d like to! I tend to collect images randomly from the internet and use them to gather cool details – like the slant of light or the shape of columns or the pattern of tiles on the floor.
The Sorcerer’s Garden was a little different because it takes place in Portland, Oregon, near where I live. I used the Pittock Mansion, a real place, as Dustin and Cody’s mansion home. To prepare for the book, I took a private tour of the building (now a museum) and got to explore the areas the public doesn’t normally get to visit.
I took tons of notes, and collected photos and floor plans. Lillian’s music room in the book is exactly as it looked in the house. The tour included the basement, which was a little creepy and dusty and made for a perfect catacomb.
It was strange and disorienting going there for another tour after I completed the book. I felt like I’d stepped into the pages. I stood in Cody’s room, leaned on the counter where Pagan made coffee, and sat on Lillian’s sofa, looking out her picture window.
Resa – Quite cool, or in more modern words -that’s sick!
Resa – Our lead character, Madlyn, wears a black gown, the hem trimmed with onyx beads. It’s to a corporate dinner hosted by Dustin, head of the corporation. She is his social co-host. It sounds like a simple classic piece, no frills or poufs. She accessorizes with her mother’s elegant string of pearls.
When we first see Princess Madlyn, in days of yore and gore, she’s in a black gown, its hem trimmed in onyx. Is she wearing any other jewels? A different necklace, perhaps? Gloves?
Peach – I love your impressions of her gowns. I always envisioned the gowns as the same, since the story is already starting to overlap with the real world. But I never say that in the book, so her gowns are created by each reader’s imagination.
One of the coolest things about writing is that readers fill in the blanks, not only in clothing but in the general appearance of the characters and the setting. You’re the expert, so let your imagination create. Anything you do will be just right! I might even add some of your details to the book!
Resa – I imagined 2 gowns, as the story proceeded. One is her original black gown, with the addition of shoes and a sweater (scripted). The gown is now torn from horse riding through battles, the sweater disheveled.
Confession! First, I did create a gown that was not scripted. Yet, the era apparent of the story gave me way to come up with this gown. In the end I realize I created a fusion image. The image is Madlyn, The Queen & Lillian the Dreamer, all rolled into one.
So, to the battles. I engage emotionally when I write, so I hold my breath, make faces, grit my teeth, and cry when something bad happens.
My husband used to worry about me sobbing at my laptop, but knows to ignore it now.
I figure I need to immerse myself in a scene emotionally and feel all the feelings, because if I hold back, readers will sense the distance. I don’t feel bad about slaughtering monsters and bad guys, but it does hurt when I bump off characters I’ve grown fond of, and that certainly was the case in the book. The twist at the end changed the story, but in the moment, I was blubbering. I prepare by scheduling big chunks of time for tough scenes. That way I can give in, go where I need to go, process, and finish in one sitting.
Resa – There are some really bad guys in your story. I mean BAD, and not in the cool way.
The bad guys start off mean, greedy and willing to give into the Soul Thief. Once they give into the Soul Thief, they physically evolve into individual images of that evil. Peach, I bumped into this piece of alley art. I thought – OMG, it’s Warson, most of the way though his metamorphosis. His hair is evolving into horns, and he’s not dressed. Gross!
We find ourselves at the third revealing window. You’ll want to peer keenly through this window! It seems like there is a third entity, a spirit perhaps, writing another book. Nonetheless, it’s still this book. This is a brilliance of Peach’s writing. I’ve said lots, yet said nothing. You’ll just have to read the book!
This book deserves all great reviews and accolades. It is in many ways about the age old struggles: peace and love vs. hate and war, bad vs. good; decency vs. cruelty. It is intense. Although good triumphs, it is not without loss. This is also an ancient reality.
A long-time reader, best-selling author D. Wallace Peach started writing later in life after the kids were grown and a move left her with hours to fill. Years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books, and when she started writing, she was instantly hooked.
In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.
Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.
Teagan from Teagan’s Books has been publishing a serial, “Dead of Winter”. It’s a series of journeys (12 so far). She issued a challenge.
THE CHALLENGE
“Create something using Emlyn’s world as portrayed in Dead of Winter: Journey 1, Forlorn Peak, as your inspiration. Not a story with my characters, but anything else you please.”
I came up with:
HOW TO KNIT A PONCHO
To take the chill off the fall mornings, when picking apples.
1 – GATHER YOUR YARN AND NEEDLES.
I suggest using a mid weight, natural, unbleached and not dyed yarn so as to not tick off the Brethren of Un’Naf.
2 – LET’S DO A GARTER STITCH. It is the most basic of all, doesn’t curl so won’t need a finish and its boring repetitive nature will please the Brethren of Un’Naf.
(It’s so easy! There are many tutorials online)
3 – MAKE A GAUGE SWATCH.
Cast on 40 stitches and knit 40 rows, then cast off.
Again, many tutorials online.
Block! Use gentle steam, and pat the sample dry.
Make a 1” by 1” square window in the centre of a 4″ by 4″ piece of
cardboard.
Place the window in the centre of the swatch.
Count stitches across. Count rows down.
4 – MAKE A PATTERN.
Using a measuring tape over your shoulder, let it hang from where the
point will be in the back, to where it ends in the front.
Drape the tape from below left elbow, across the back of the neck to
below the right elbow.
For discussion sake – Let’s say you want your poncho to be 60 inches
long (30″ down the front and 30″ down the back.) You need 50 inches at its widest point, 25 ” down each arm from your 7th cervical. (The bone in the centre back of your neck)
Draw a shape! It does not have to be to scale. Here, we have a diamond shape. For a more complicated shape, a full size pattern would be necessary.
For discussion sake, let’s pretend there are 6 stitches & 10 rows in the 1″
window.
Let’s start with rows. If you need to knit 60 inches – and there are 10 rows in an inch – you need to knit 60 x 10 = 600 rows.
However, you will need a neck hole at the halfway point – Row 300.
Okay, so at the 1/2 way point (which is at row 300) you will be at the widest point. In this case – 50 inches.
If 1 inch = 6 stitches, then 50 inches – 50 x 6 = 300 stitches.
I suggest casting on 3 stitches (1/2 inch). Knit 1 row. Consider this your 0 point.
Now you need to increase from 0 to 300 in 300 rows. This is adding 1 stitch per row. It will be wise, so as not to knit a lopsided diamond shape, to increase 2 stitches every other row. Add one stitch on each side, every other row.
At row 300, you will make a neck hole.
Measure around your head and add 2 inches. I have 24 inches.
Divide this by 2 = 12.
Centre the 12 inches at stitch 150, which is the centre of 300 stitches – 6 inches on each side of centre. 6 inches x 6 stitches = 36 stitches.
We now minus 36 stitches from 150. 150- 36 = 114.
So, at row 300 knit 114 stitches. Then cast off 72 stitches (36 for each side of centre.) Continue to finish knitting that row.
Next row is still 300 stitches. You will knit 114 stitches, then CAST ON 72 stitches. Finish knitting the row.
Knit 1 more row of 300 stitches.
Okay, now we need to get back to to a 1/2″ point.
Do the exact opposite! Decrease 2 stitches every other row, at the sides.
When you get to 3 stitches, knit 1 more row and cast off.
Your poncho is done!
You will need to block the knit into shape by steaming and patting dry, or spritzing with water and patting dry. Use a measuring tape to make sure you are creating a proper shape. (T-pins are used for fancier blocking, but this is a simple shape, so not needed)
In order to please the Brethren of Un’Naf, do not add fringe, tassels, or create a striped colourful pattern by changing colours of yarn every few rows.
Let’s just hope they aren’t annoyed by the fancy point!
✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑✒︎✑
I’ve read the first 3 Journeys. They are excellent. Teagan is a wonderful, entertaining writer. She gifted me, and anyone answering the challenge a book. I got book 4. Unfortunately, I live in Canada, and the Kindle offer is only good in the U.S.A. Thank you, Teagan!I appreciate the thought.
On Saturdays, you can follow the adventure “The Armadillo Files” on her blog.
Click on the cover of Journey 1, above, and go to Teagan’s Amazon page with all of the Journeys. When there, click on her author’s name, and you will find all of her other books.
You can buy Journeys 1, 2 & 3 0n KOBO. (That’s where I bought mine)
Hullaba Lulu& Thistledown Midsummer Bedlam are also available on KOBO.
As a person who enjoys poetry and coffee, the decision to read Lauren’s well written book was a no-brainer. As a matter of fact, I languished over every poem and bit of prose. For 33 mornings, I read one piece with my coffee.
Each day’s reading brought me warm thoughts, stirred feelings and created a desire to be creative. What a great and positive way to start the day.
In this intimate look at her and her family, nature plays a huge part in stirring memories of irreplaceable experiences, both uplifting and occasionally heartbreaking. All emotions are expressed beautifully in positive light.
I couldn’t resist picking my favourite poem.
This poem is an experience I share with Lauren. She could have been writing about me and my mom. I am deeply moved.
There is no copy and paste from the ebook. I wrote this out, and proofed it many times. It seems the word program likes to correct non-mistakes. In the final proof, much to my amazement I saw the title was in blue. All the titles are in blue. Yet, I believed this title was in red. Lauren, I hope you are okay with me keeping the red!
So, what’s with all the sunflowers? How do they tie in?
The above sunflower was in my last street art post. Lauren left a comment. I responded.
L – “I also love the sunflower which reminds me of my daughter.”
R – Sunflower; apologies if I missed this/don’t remember it in a post, or in your book! Why does the sunflower remind you of your daughter?
L – And no, I don’t think I did a sunflower post, so please don’t worry, Resa. My daughter is 30 and loves sunflowers, but she exudes their sunny disposition, smiles all the time, loves to laugh, and practices optimism more than pessimism.
She may have been speaking of her daughter, yet I see Lauren in those words. It’s as though I could have just used those words about her book, about herself.
ABOUT LAUREN SCOTT
(Abridged from “About the Author” in “More Than Coffee”)
Lauren is a writer of poetry and short memoirs. She resides in northern California with her husband of 32 years, and their lovable canine, Copper; they have two grown children. She has authored two collections of poetry; New Day Dreams (2013) and Finding a Balance (2015).
Lauren is inspired to write from her love of nature. Lauren marvels at how the world is interconnected and every living thing matters. She hopes her readers will find a little nugget of delight, comfort, or understanding in her poetry and stories – some detail that resonates with them beyond her words.
My words are in blue. Mike’s words are in black italics.
“Frenchie”sobriquet forthe French Resistance hero of this tale, is one kick ass martial arts fighter. She can kill a nazi in the blink of an eye. She uses guns, knives and her head. Her head has two uses; thinking and butting. Fearless, she will use her sexuality, in more ways than one.
Sex born of choice, no matter one’s sexual persuasion, is nobody’s business but theirs. Yet, when the ‘I own the world’ male of the species hold sway: women young, old and in-between beware! Those male scum bag’s brawn trumps feminine delicacy and brains. It’s been that way ever since poor Eve copped the blame for tempting a namby-pamby Adam in the supposed Eden. The Nazi’s history in that regard is a classic example of contemptible lowlife abusing the fairer sex at will.
Although fiction, the whole nazi thing is difficult to read about. However, after a slow start, Frenchie got to me. I had to know her next move.
I asked Mike a few questions, and in the end his answers serve better than any further review I could write. He provided two Leonard Cohen songs. The last question I ask, explains why.
1 – This tale is fiction set in the reality of World War II. We are predominantly in London and Paris. Where and/or how did you learn of: what London & Paris looked like, felt like and how people survived or died in those war years?
Born and bred in South London not that long after the end of the war, our two-up; two-down terraced hovel was on the opposite side of the main drag toward The Smoke. It scarred the already dubious, giant field of broken bricks, redesigned concrete slabs, shattered glass, bent pipes and later, dandelions by the millions. Oh yes, there were broken kettles, crushed teddy bears, lonely bed springs and crumpled shoes as well.
Prior to the bombing of said dubious field, it had housed many families most of whom died on impact. The view from my bedroom has never left me. It has a habit of creeping into both my dreams and nightmares. Because of this, its proximity to the city, its rebuilding of all things flattened and along with my day trips there, it has always had me imagining ‘what if I’d lived through that?’
As to Paris, I’ve visited more times than I can count. London I find bland and devoid of finesse. Not so The City of Love. It’s an ‘art versus science’ differential. The art of Paris always wins out insofar as I am concerned. What I know of Paris during the war was born of a combination of idle chat with its aging citizens and my research addiction.
To this day, given the choice and in the knowledge that the deadliest conflict in human history was shortly kicking-off, I would have no qualms about taking residence there.
The period twixt the two wars was, in Paris and particularly its bohemian district known as Montparnasse, a haven for free-thinkers and artists of all genres. They called it ‘The Crazy Years’…ask F. Scott Fitzgerald, Man Ray, James Joyce and Gertrude Stein, to name but a tiny few.
2 – I first heard of the Nazis and the concentration camps as a child. I read “”The Diary of Ann Frank, when I was a young teen. Over the years movies and documentaries have added to my knowledge of the atrocities perpetrated.
Your story focuses in on certain detailed horrors the Nazis inflicted on young, pretty women that were not of the Aryan ilk. I am speaking of the women that were not sent to camps, but were kept for the Nazis own brutal form of enjoyment.
Where did you learn of these abominations?
‘People with dementia never lie’, so said the boss of the care home my father found himself in not long before his death aged 89. Fortuitously he only lost his mind in the last two years of his life.
The thing was, during his time in the ‘home’, he truthfully thought he was back in Stalag 8B POW camp near Kraków, Poland. Only a throw of a cricket ball away from the Auschwitz concentration camp, it doubled up as an extermination equivalent.
Aged 20 at the time, my father had been captured outside of Dunkerque when his lorry ran out of fuel. He’d spent the entire war banged up in said stalag. He never spoke of the war during his days of sanity. Come the madness he relived it. He saw the staff at the care home as armed guards, daily forcing him to dig for coal down the mines of Silesia, his ankles always tethered in chains. This initial talk of his, of such hideous happenings, is a mere example; there were many more like it.
I took his chatter to be gobbledygook. However, since then I’ve been able to verify such evil, as was inflicted upon his person.
What pray has that got to do with ‘women that were not sent to camps’? In terms of what’s stored inside my head, everything. Dad got to speak passable German. He and others sometimes got to chat with a friendly sentry, sometimes with the local Polish girls who handed out meagre rations. More often than not it was ‘cat meat’, not that he knew that at the time.
What the old boy told me regarding the treatment of women from conquered lands, be it under the knife of sicko doctors seeking to sterilize those not considered worthy of the ‘master-race’ at one extreme, rape by selection of the Nazi hierarchy or ‘a treat for the troops’ for no other reason than ‘we can’, was…well I’ve not a ‘word’ that gets even close to describing my father’s account.
However, he had inadvertently sent me on an eternal quest. Probing for verification through printed books, apposite telephone calls and via Google searches it was clear my father was not delivering a sick man’s exaggerations nor bonkers induced fibs. Quite the opposite. I’d rather say no more regarding those abominations we speak of. My book, fierce as some of its contents may be, doesn’t come close to what’s stored in the library of my mind.
I should add, to this day I have a printed pile of research far bigger than the book itself…a pile I’ll likely never read again.
3 – In your author’s opinion, what percentage of your tale is factual, what percentage is extrapolation and what percentage is complete fiction?
Cruel deeds taken by the Nazi’s as a matter of perverse motive ‘true’ in method only. Places, events and characters, all fiction based on fact. Basically, the whole of this book is entirely fictional, including the imagined actions of prominent WW2 leaders. Only the generality of well researched Nazi cruel habits, along with just the names and places of towns and cities in Europe and beyond are truthful. The bit I have to say on pain of death is ‘any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events within this book is wholly coincidental’.
4 – Chapter 15 opens with the telling of French actress Arletty, and her affair with a Nazi officer. It ends with a quote of hers. Is this factual?
‘Tis all factual. Ms Arletty was a charming girl who loved life. A French actress, singer, and fashion model, she was found guilty of treason for an affair with a German officer. I understand she served out her sentence in her own house. Good on her! Her quote when being interrogated by the French Forces of the Interior just after the war, says it all, ‘My heart is French, but my ass is international’
Chapter 15 was prompted by her unfair…to my mind…ridiculous treatment. She, like many other French girls, chose to have an affair with the enemy. I see no crime in that, and would lay odds that had it been the other way around the males of France wouldn’t have given a tuppenny toss. As mentioned earlier, “Sex born of choice, no matter one’s sexual persuasion, is nobody’s business but theirs.”..an irrelevance that somehow irked both the religious and the jealous into making it a crime.
In this regard, certain French men were as bad as Nazi’s. Post the war, male patriots were prone to take matters into their own hands. Across the country you’d chance upon girls hanging dead from the branch of a tree as punishment for frolicking with a German soldier. Mainly, their hostile foes would shave off the hair on their heads and march them through the town in front of an audience. Also, it was not uncommon for the accused to be stripped naked, and like the shaved head girls dragged through an angry mob, humiliated. Plainly, The Snow White Tigress would have none of this in her tale. Indeed, she made double sure such thugs got their comeuppance.
5 – As a matter of fact, chapter 13 opens with a report by Franz Mawick. Is this factual?
Franz Mawick, like Arletty, was genuine, his report also, his story heart-breaking.
6 – At the start of chapter 16, you quote 4 lines from “Suzanne”, by Leonard Cohen. Written 21 years after the war, it hasnothing to do with the war, yet it works for the story.
Why Leonard Cohen? Why not one of the many famous poets from the WWII years, Cecil Day-Lewis, Lewis Aragon, Ana Swir, etc.?
Well, Leonard Cohen was born in September of 1934, five years before the outbreak of war. He may have lived an ocean away, yet of Jewish heritage he would have been aware of the racism’s goings on. More importantly though, be it in song, as poetry or as a novel, his work is at its best when it’s reflective of life’s events. His song, ‘Dance Me To The End of Love’ is all about The Holocaust. Dipping deeper into his portfolio reveals another song, ‘The Partisan’where he speaks of the plight of the French Resistance…a subject integral to my book.
For me, the main thing is that this book has added more to; what should never be forgotten to be remembered. Did I like it? Yes, but No. I hope Mike and all take this as the compliment it’s meant to be.
You can download his albums starting at £5 GBP by visiting George’s Bandcamp site. Just click on the cover of his album “Devil’s Kiss”, (above) and you will find yourself there!
Josh Middleman was the 4th of 7 children. His harried parents had few moments for him. From his 1st day at school, he felt invisible.
Artist: Birdo
No one stopped him from joining in schoolyard games, although he was never a winner even when he won. When he graduated, they were one gown down & one cap short. Josh had to wear his suit. No one noticed. Although he graduated in the top 10 of his class, serious career positions eluded him. His life was a wreck.
One day he came upon a Clown College. Frustrated & bitter, he shuffled through the doors with an upside down smile on his face, and a tear in his eye.
“You’re in” shouted the Clown College recruiter, as he handed an enrolment form to Josh.
With a painted smile and a hidden heart, he graduated with honours.
As a clown, Josh made many laugh and feel happy. Others were crazy clown scared. Whatever, he was not invisible anymore. Josh Middleman was a “must have clown”for all children’s parties, parades and local promotions.
Eventually, he married and earned enough money to buy a home at Queen’s end. Here, Josh would don his ginormous clown’s shoes and think with glee, “In your face, unhappiness!”
Graffiti Lux Art & More 
You must be logged in to post a comment.