Surfacing Again came about because I essentially decided I wanted to write a story with otters, for no other reason than otters; so I went looking for myths I might be able to adapt. There are quite a few otter-myths in the UK—I liked the Otter Kings of Scotland very much and might see if I can write something longer about them at some point. But I was also very drawn to St Cuthbert and his helpful otters on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne.
As I wrote in my previous post, Lindisfarne is a small island off the North East coast of Northumbria in England, and the first, wooden, monastery was built there by monks from Iona (in Scotland) under St Aidan in 635AD. St Cuthbert was the Bishop of Lindisfarne from 685AD until he died in 687AD, but he seems to have been ubiquitous to the area for a couple of decades before that. Bede wrote a ‘Life of St Cuthbert’ in the early years of the eighth century and that’s where the otters come in.
“…[St Cuthbert] went down to the sea, which flows beneath, and going into it, until the water reached his neck and arms, spent the night in praising God. When the dawn of day approached, he came out of the water, and, falling on his knees, began to pray again. Whilst he was doing this, two quadrupeds, called otters, came up from the sea, and, lying down before him on the sand, breathed upon his feet, and wiped them with their hair after which, having received his blessing, they returned to their native element.”
It all sounds extremely unlikely, as Lin comments in Surfacing Again…however, it also sounds extremely charming and I couldn’t not use it.
The UK’s species of otter is Lutra Lutra, the Eurasian otter. We don’t have sea-otters, we just have some colonies of otters that like to hang out by the sea. They’re part of the mustelid family, which also includes stoats, weasels, polecats, ferrets and mink…they’re essentially enormous aquatic weasels.
They live in family groups and stay with their parents until they’re fourteen or fifteen months old. Population is gradually increasing again in the UK where they have been very sparse in the last few decades due to river pollution. You can read more about them and their habitats at the UK Wild Otter Trust and there’s a bit more about Coastal Otters in Scotland on the Forestry and Land Scotland website.
Here are some Asiatic Short-Clawed otters from New Zealand, making their characteristic chirping noise:
Surfacing Again: A short contemporary lesbian romance
Melinda is staying on Lindisfarne for a Christmas break with her old friend when an unexpected argument leaves her alone for the holiday.
It’s the first Christmas since her mother died and the island’s peace and wild tranquillity bring balm to her wounded heart. Two chance meetings, first with a pair of wary otters and then with cafe-owner Rowan, bring her genuine joy.
Will her tentative relationship with Rowan survive the end of her holiday and the turning of the year?
Surfacing Again came out yesterday and I thought today I’d give you some back ground about it’s setting, the ‘Holy Island’ of Lindisfarne, just off the north-east coast of England.
Map of northern Britain in the post-Roman period.
It’s a tidal island, accessible twice a day during low tide. These days there’s a causeway to drive across, but in days gone by you had to walk across the sands to reach it, along the ‘pilgrim way’. The path is marked by large stakes driven in to the sands and you can still do it today reasonably easily, so long as you don’t mind a bit of paddling.
The first monastery there was founded in 635AD by St Aidan as a daughter-house of Iona. That monastery was probably where the parish church stands today, but was made of wood, so no visible trace remains. It’s this monastery that was responsible for the beautiful Lindisfarne Gospels and where St Cuthbert was Bishop in the 680s. After his death it became a place of pilgrimage. Most of what we know about St Cuthbert comes from his ‘Life’, written by Bede, a monk at the monastery of Jarrow in the early ninth century. You can read a translation of his Life of St Cuthbert here.
The monastery was devastated by a Viking attack in June 793. There was a huge sense of disbelief across the continent that one of the largest and holiest foundation in European Christendom could be destroyed rather than protected by its patron saint. Subsequent attacks finally drove the monks out to Northam on the mainland in the 830s and in 875 they formally abandoned the island and eventually settled in the old Roman fort of Chester-le-Street seven years later. St Cuthbert’s remains ended up at Durham, where they became a good money-spinner for the abbey there.
In the meantime, there’s evidence from gravestones on the island that a small Christian community remained on Lindisfarne; but the priory wasn’t rebuilt until after the Norman conquest of 1066 as a daughter-house of Durham. That’s the ruins that are visible today. The monks were turned out and the priory abandoned during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the mid-sixteenth century. You can read more about the history of the priory here. With annotations!
The castle, at the opposite end of the island to the priory, began life as a fort in the mid-1500s with stone robbed from the abandoned priory. At that time England was still very much threatened by Scotland. However when Elizabeth 1 died in 1603, the two countries became ruled by the same monarch and the threat disappeared.
By 1900, the fort was in ruins. It was bought by Edward Hudson, who employed Edward Lutyens to turn it into a little castle, where the nobility of the day came to socialise. He also employed Gertrude Jekyll to create a walled garden for him.
You can visit Lindisfarne for the day or you can book accommodation. If you can’t manage that, I recommend the magic of Google Street View. You can visit the priory ruins, walk along the beach where Lin meets her otters, see the ruins of St Cuthbert’s monastic cell on the additional tiny, tiny island and even walk across the sands on the Pilgrim Path.
And as a final note, I was at Ofelia’s blog yesterday with the ginger biscuit recipe that Rowan uses in her café. Find it here!
Read on for more about Surfacing Again and an excerpt.
Surfacing Again: A short contemporary lesbian romance
Melinda is staying on Lindisfarne for a Christmas break with her old friend when an unexpected argument leaves her alone for the holiday.
It’s the first Christmas since her mother died and the island’s peace and wild tranquillity bring balm to her wounded heart. Two chance meetings, first with a pair of wary otters and then with cafe-owner Rowan, bring her genuine joy.
Will her tentative relationship with Rowan survive the end of her holiday and the turning of the year?
Chapter 2: Christmas Eve
“You look like you could do with a hot drink. Your lips are blue,” the small woman wrapped in the huge green apron said. She was sweeping the windswept grey pavement outside the little cafe on the corner in the village as Melinda peered through the window at the menu, wondering whether they were open.
“Are you serving?” she asked.
The woman was about her own age, with a geometric blonde haircut and an impish expression as she looked at Lin over her broom.
“I’m not actually open for another couple of hours,” she said, smiling and leaning the broom against the wall. “But come inside while I set up. You must be frozen. It’s a bitter wind.”
Melinda smiled at her. “Why are you bothering to brush the pavement then?” she asked.
The other woman smiled again. “Habit,” she said. “It’s habit. I like my routines. Come on, come in. I’ve lit the log burner already, so it’s toasty inside.”
There were a couple of sofas set at angles in front of the log burner and a few small tables squeezed in around them. It really was a tiny cafe, probably converted from someone’s front room that had been knocked through into the room behind at some time in the past.
“Here,” her saviour said. “Sit down, take your coat off. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got…well, anything really. Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?”
“Tea would be wonderful, actually,” Lin said. “I haven’t had any yet this morning. I got up early to watch the sunrise.” She was determined to make the most of her stay on the island of Lindisfarne, despite the drama of the last couple of days.
She sighed.
The other woman flashed her another grin before she could get too lost in her thoughts. “It was beautiful this morning,” she said. “I’m Rowan,” she said in a friendly fashion, going behind the counter and putting a kettle on.
“I’m Lin,” Melinda said. “Is this your place?” She hunched forward and stretched out her frosty hands to the fire.
“Yes. Me and my girlfriend started it a couple of years ago, but it’s just me now.” She shot Lin a sidelong glance.
Melinda smiled back. “It’s lovely,” she said. “Very cosy.”
“It’s tiny, but it works. I live upstairs.” She nodded toward the back of the cafe where there was a closed door beside the one that led out to the kitchen, presumably leading to some stairs. “We only do drinks and cakes, and soup and sandwiches and breakfast rolls; a very limited menu. But it’s all people need if they’ve come over to the island for the day. No-one wants to waste time with a full sit-down lunch.”
She put a tray with a pot of tea, a jug of milk, and two mugs down on the low table between the sofas, sinking into the one opposite Lin.
Lin nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. It’s quieter at this time of year, though?”
“Yes, very much so. Although it can get busy now for a bit, around Christmas. And people stay in the self-catering properties and guest houses all year round, obviously. If I didn’t need the income to live, I’d say I prefer it when it’s quieter.” She said that with an open smile. “Present company excepted, of course!”
She leaned forward and poured them each a cup of tea. She seemed to have all the time in the world to chat to a random stranger she’d rescued from the freezing morning.
This week we welcome debut author R. G. Hendrickson to the blog! Welcome, Richard! Thanks so much for visiting!
Thank you, Ally, for giving a newbie author like me an interview on your blog. It’s a thrill, and I really appreciate it.
Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it?
Funny you should ask. I was just talking about this with an old friend.
When I told him about the book, he wrinkled his nose and said, “Eww. Why cavemen?” I get some of the frankest critiques from my friends, which is fine. I’ve known him since high school, a long time before I started writing. If he doesn’t like my book, I guess I’ll probably still like him anyway.
So, why cavemen? Perhaps not everyone’s cup of tea, I understand this, but MM romance must have existed in some fashion during the Stone Age. I thought it might be interesting to explore. Though different, it isn’t so far-fetched, really. I mean, after all, we have shifters, vampires, and Mpreg.
By the way, the main character in this story might be viewed as a reverse-vampire. His longevity comes from the unusual stem cells in his blood, and a doctor discovers that an infusion of these cells cures people and makes them young. This of course has serious implications for the Earth.
Let’s set aside the speculative fiction. I found that the Stone Age made a delightful setting for MM romance. It accommodated some favorite tropes, like fake dating and hurt/comfort. In addition, there’s a developing romance in the present, which might qualify as an age gap trope, though the older character appears much younger than his years.
So, why not a caveman? At the end of the day, it’s just a book and might be fun. If you happen to take a chance on reading it, please let me know what you think. Even if you don’t like it, I’m still your friend, like I’m still friends with my old high school buddy.
What started you writing?
It’s a strange compulsion. I’ve had it since childhood and only recently gave in, apart from dabbling a little over the years. Even when I wasn’t writing, there were always stories rattling around in my head. When I retired a little early and had some time on my hands, I found myself putting things on paper. It felt good getting it off my mind, refreshing.
I did study dramatic literature and script writing as an undergraduate, but I set aside playwriting in the interest of making a living. In the meantime, I came to like reading more than theatre or movies. I preferred reading novels and found that I enjoyed writing them, so far three, two of them published.
When I started the first book, I realized that I needed to learn the craft. There’s a big difference between a story floating around in my head and a novel on paper. So, I joined some writer groups, read excerpts, and got feedback. I also read a lot of novels and some books about writing, or I listened to recorded presentations.
With practice, I think I’m becoming a better storyteller. My goal next time is to write a book that my old high school friend will want to read. That, of course, might never happen, but I’m having fun trying.
Call Me Methuselah
Since humanity’s first steps in the Stone Age, Methuselah has harbored an ancient secret. Cursed by the shaman to witness the end of days, he searches in vain for a home, place to place, clan to clan, yearning to belong. First in prehistoric Africa and lately disillusioned with love for a hundred years in the New World, he learns all too well to guard his heart and hide his story. That changes when a car crash lands him in the hospital with a fractured skull. Doctors discover strange stem cells in his blood, promising cures and a fountain of youth. Methuselah faces choices of life and death.
Forced on the run again, he comforts himself by reliving a happier time, when he and Arrow, his first love, raft across the paleo-lake Makgadikgadi, which rested in those days on the vast Kalahari. In their age-old journey, the cavemen lovers find a place to call home and learn what it means to belong.
While Arrow’s enlightened sensibilities get the two of them in trouble and challenge Methuselah’s judgment, their adventures in an untamed world bring them together. When Methuselah’s enduring youth reveals itself through the passing seasons, he and Arrow bravely face a dire reality.
From the distant past that lives inside Methuselah, Arrow’s spirit reaches out, providing guidance for our threatened times. He gives Methuselah the strength to do the right thing and the courage to live his true self in the modern world. Arrow’s memory opens Methuselah’s heart and renews for him a hope of redemption in the arms of a caring man today. If only Methuselah permits himself to love once more.
No blood nor gore in sight, I worried that the crocodile had eaten him already, tossed him in the air, and swallowed him whole. Relieved that I didn’t have to fight that monster, I dived down again near the bottom, where the crocodile might not follow me. Its big tail wagged above my head and passed me by. As I turned to swim away, I found the drowned man sinking. All in one piece, he must have submerged before the crocodile arrived. His eyes were blank, and his many skinny braids floated and twisted like snakes around his head. No time to waste, I grabbed his hair and pulled him along with me. His husky body nearly weightless underwater, I held on with one hand. My legs and the free arm enough for swimming, I towed him toward a safer shore, near the ledge from where I’d first spotted him that morning. When I could hold my breath no longer, I surfaced and looked for the croc. No sign of it, maybe it returned to the beach. They didn’t like it here by this cliff with its deep water and jagged rocks. I slipped through the outcrops, as I’d done since a boy. Losing my loincloth along the way, I struggled to shore with the stranger in tow. By his armpits, I dragged him out of the waves to dry gravel and avoided his eyes. They were open, unblinking, and vacant. With both my hands, I felt his neck for signs of life, warm but motionless. His mouth was full of water, which trickled out. He was dead. Remembering him gives me pause. Lately, I’ve pondered my own mortality. Hence, this memoir, I’m not ready. More the reason for starting in a happier time, the beginning, long ago on that lake with my first love. We were so much alike then, young and invincible. Only for me, invincibility was no youthful fantasy. I’ve never stopped missing him. Not to complain, that wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t me who had to die, and even while grieving, there’s joy in life. Enough said. On with the story. The dead man’s eyes bewildered me. I couldn’t bear to look at them or make myself look away. Though we were strangers, we’d faced a monster crocodile together and escaped it. Few friends could say that. As tears blurred my vision, I covered his face with my hands and brushed his eyelids closed. Then I remembered the words of my father. A boy had drowned. His brother pushed the water out of him, and the boy came back. Worth a try with this man, I pressed hard on his tight stomach, just below the ribs, and water sprayed from his mouth. Worried I’d hurt him, I checked his face for signs of pain. He showed no expression but peace, a haunting beauty, and over his lips more water flowed. When I pressed again, he twitched. His eyes opened wide, and when he rolled on his side, lake water spewed out his mouth. Then, to my considerable relief, he coughed and took a deep loud breath. We gazed at each other in the eye and lingered there. No, he doesn’t die that day, and I get to meet him after all. He’ll be the love of my life. I know this now, a long time later …
R.G. Hendrickson loves words for the feelings they evoke. Though relatively new to writing, he draws on experience from a long life and strong imagination.
In his MM romance, you’ll find quirky characters and fantasy/science fiction subplots.
If you take a chance on his book, he would love to hear your thoughts about it, whatever they are. He also enjoys receiving critiques from the writers group that he attends weekly online from his home in Las Vegas.
This week a sweet, sapphic holiday romance set in Victorian Scotland by Meg Mardell, and two gay romances… Astounding! by Kim Fielding, and the audio of Shattered Glass by Dani Alexander.
I really enjoyed this sweet sapphic novella. It’s a Victorian Christmas delight, a seasonal hug with just a nip of whisky. The two main characters are Sharda, an heiress who is just beginning to realise she is her own person and doesn’t have to run around after her terrible relatives; and Finella, a woman who’s taken over her father’s job as the manager of a Scottish estate. The contrast between them is very marked at the beginning of the story. Sharda has never had any agency and has been content to drift along trapped in the web her family have woven around her in their hopes of getting access to her fortune. Finella has had entirely too much put upon her by her scapegrace employer and is constantly weighted down with the responsibility of looking after the castle, farms and people in her care.
Initially this is a case of mistaken identity; but the two women move through that to cement first a friendship and then a romance. I really liked both of them and wanted them to sort their misunderstanding out. They are well drawn, well rounded characters and the secondary characters are charming, particularly Finella’s brothers! The period detail is nicely researched and held up well for me. I felt there was enough dialect speech to give a flavour of the period and the location, but not so much it overwhelmed the pace of the story. Recommend for a comforting holiday read! (Also the cover! It’s gorgeous!)
This is an homage to the golden age of science fiction magazines as well as a very satisfying, sweet love story. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by Kim Fielding I haven’t loved, in particular her science-fiction and paranormal stories. This is no exception. The golden age of the science fiction magazines is over and Astounding! is dying. Carter, its founding editor, is a purposeless, broke and depressed borderline alcoholic. He writes a snippy rejection letter to a writer who persists in sending him terrible, terrible submissions and then in a fit of remorse drives to his house to apologise. The guy, John, is a) gorgeous and b) bonkers, as he claims to be an alien wanting to send a message via Astounding! to his people to come and take him home. They’re both lonely and they quickly make a connection despite Carter’s reservations. It’s a really satisfying read with the well-rounded, complex characters you’d expect from this author. There’s also a road-trip with Carter’s super-star-writer friend (who I pictured as a cross between George R. R. Martin and Arthur C. Clarke) and his husband, which is a delight. Recommend!
This is another favorite I suddenly realised I could get the audio for with Whispersync. And again, one of those stories that definitely allowed me to pick up further detail and depth in the audio. Contemporary USA. Austin Glass is a rich boy playing at being a Detective. He’s very good at it and wants to segue into the FBI. He’s got a society marriage lined up, he tumbles through life without much touching him. The reason for that is…revealed as the story goes on. He finds himself unexpectedly attracted to a male witness/suspect in a people trafficking ring. This is not something he’s prepared for and once that thread gets pulled, all sorts of things in his life begin to unravel. That’s the main focus of the story, but the thriller plot is very respectable and kept me interested, with another two books clearly being set up in this one. These haven’t happened yet, but I still check occasionally to see whether they have because this one is so good. The narration is great. Adds depth and clarity to the story and makes it really enjoyable.
I’ve been around and about all over the internet this last couple of weeks to celebrate the release of The Quid Pro Quo and now we’re in to December I’m also part of a few Advent Calendar-type giveaways. I thought it would be useful to do a round-up–partly for readers and partly because my poor brain will then be able to find things again :).
