It’s the week leading up to St. Patrick’s Day, so I thought it would be fun to share a 5 part story by none other than our very own K.G. Watson. Each day when you visit our website, http://www.pandamoniumpublishing.com, you’ll get to enjoy another part of the story from March 13-March 17.
For our Canadian friends, the listing should show available stock in the next few days, so add it to your wishlist in the meantime! Found Money : Watson, K.G.: Amazon.ca: Books
Here’s part 1 of A Saintly Soul Abducted by K.G. Watson
“ A SAINTLY SOUL ABDUCTED” read the title on the candidate’s paper. “A correction of historical perceptions of the life and preaching of a Saint,” read the subtitle.
Dr. McNeil groaned inwardly as he raised it and lifted his eyebrows for an explanation.
“Well, Patrick was awarded ‘honourary saintly’ status not just because he arrived before the criteria were written down,” said the earnest red-haired and freckle-faced young man, “but because he won many hearts, then died. The reference to his soul and the ‘abduction’ claim is consistent with historical references.” McNeil scanned the lines of small print at the bottom. He was wondering if he’d taught his student too well.
“I footnoted each item at the bottom. I don’t think he was captured by Irish pirates, though that is what his legend claims. I think he preached to the rebel’s justification in fighting for their identity. Others took over his memory and twisted it to their ends. I contend that the St. Patrick we think we know today, is not the one who lived about 400 CE in Ireland. ”
McNeil could see this would be a longer discussion than he had intended. Did he really need such an angular thinker? Could he even continue to supervise him as a PhD candidate? Maybe it was his penance that he’d been assigned to be Liam’s mentor. His thoughts were blown away by the logical brickwork that was stacked in the lad’s lap and on the floor by his chair, ready to be laid out on his desk. He suggested they move to his conference table, and swept it clear.
“My arguments rest on three lines of research,” Liam began. “First there is the written record.” He laid down a small sheaf of reprints like a dealer at a poker table. “Pātricius, was his name in the earliest writing naming him. There is no agreement on his place of birth or actual date but the best data supports him having a northern British or Scottish ancestry in the late 300’s CE. Rome was in retreat from England.”
“Patrick’s father, Calpurnius, is described as a decurion (Senator and tax collector) of an unspecified Romano-British city, and as a deacon; his grandfather Potitus was a priest from Bonaven Tabernia in central England. What slips between the lines however, is Patrick’s confession in later life was that he was not an active believer in his youth.” Another page was added to the pile.
“My point is that, young Patrick’s reluctance to go to Church at a time of political unrest, when his family was deeply involved in The Roman administration, could have been life-saving. The family were probably identified as ‘Collaborators’.” Liam let the negative consequences of that conclusion settle before continuing.
“Dad and Grandfather had sold their souls for the benefits of supporting Roman Rule. It makes more sense to me to see Patrick a nationalist. His abduction to Ireland wasn’t any such thing. Patrick escaped there to distance himself from the retribution that would follow as soon as the soldiers left.” McNeil was getting a growing feeling that Liam’s assertions were going completely off the rails. Perceiving the disgust his mentor was signalling, Liam was already peeling out his next photocopy.
We’re so excited to present our brand-new, digital magazine The Publisher’s Desk! If you’d like to advertise with us or have a story idea, please email us at pandapublishing8@gmail.com. Thank you to all of the contributors, and my entire team at Pandamonium Publishing House for making this happen! This wouldn’t be possible without all of you! Flip through the pages below or download your digital copy by clicking on the link: https://pandamoniumpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/The-Publishers-Desk-Issue-1-March-2023-5.pdf
I know I’m going to make a lot of people angry with this post, but it needs to be said. Intentions don’t matter; the only thing that matters is results. To quote The Fast and The Furious, “It doesn’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile, winning’s winning.” You can have all the intentions in the world, but no one actually cares. They care about the end result. Successful people don’t value good intentions; they value the results. Unsuccessful people attach great importance to their attempts and intentions at getting results, even if nothing happens. You can’t pay your bills with hugs and nice, fluffy intentions. Imagine telling the bank, “I had every intention of paying my mortgage this month, and I made some really good progress and got a little bit closer and put in a lot of effort, but I didn’t get the money.” You’ll be getting a letter in the mail real soon, and if you keep up your ‘intent,’ you’ll be finding a new place to live. Please don’t confuse intent with results, and remember that outcome always trumps output. Effectiveness and success are about progress, not intentions. That’s the real world, and you certainly don’t need a reminder. We live in a world where intent and ideas are great, but they will always play a back seat to results. So, are you patting yourself on the back for what you intend to do? Or are you waiting to celebrate once you’ve reached your goal and have completed it? Let’s be clear, you’re not going to reach all of your goals immediately, and you need to take deliberate, measured, specific, continuous action, but don’t waste your time congratulating yourself for ‘intent’. Congratulate yourself when you make it. “Do or do not. There is no try.” Give it your all and get it done. The right actions should drive and impact results. It doesn’t matter how you get from point A to point B; what matters is that you get where you’re going. Maybe I’m just in my villain era, I don’t know, and I don’t care, but what I know for sure is that results are rewarded, not intent or meaning to or one day or someday, and that’s the way it is. Do you know how many times I’ve been at book shows, and people have come up to me and said, “I’m an author too!” “Great,” I say, “I’ll grab a copy of your book; where can I get it?” Imagine my surprise when they say, “Oh, it’s not done yet, I’ve been working on it for a few years, but I intend to finish it…one day.” Don’t confuse intent with results. I fully intended to be the person who stitched up the hockey players in the NHL. Did that happen? No. I had every intention in the world, but I didn’t take the appropriate actions, and that’s the difference between dreaming and doing. Don’t be just a dreamer, be a dreamer who DOES. A dreamer with a plan of action to get there. Did Michelangelo intend to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, or did he actually do it? You get the point. And if you don’t, you’ve come to the wrong place. Every single person on my team shows results, not intentions. It’s the minimum standard around here. And you should have the same standard for your life. Surround yourself with people who get things done.
The look you get when you tell me you “intend” to.
Surprise! My team and I have been working tirelessly on this for months, and we’re finally excited to tell you that we’re launching a brand new digital magazine titled The Publisher’s Desk! It focuses on all things books and will feature authors, emerging artists, hot-button issues, tips, and much more! The magazine will officially launch in March 2023. If you’re an author or artist who would like to be featured, send us an email at pandapublishing8@gmail.com.
I’ve done a lot of research over the years about illiteracy rates in Canada and how they’re linked to crime, poverty, and increased mortality rates. That’s why we’ve created the Adopt-a-School initiative through Pandamonium Publishing House-we strive to provide as many children with books as possible, but we can’t do it without your help! Check out some of the alarming stats below:
The number of illiterate Canadians in 2023 is staggering. 1 Forty-eight percent of Canadian adults (approximately 17 million) are considered to have inadequate literacy skills (1The Conference Board of Canada), which means they cannot read or write well enough to perform everyday tasks such as reading instructions on medicine, filling out applications, or reading street signs. 2 One million Canadian children under the age of fifteen are estimated to have below-grade-level literacy skills, that’s 1 in 8 kids (2Childrensliteracy.ca). Why does this matter? By investing early in a child’s education, we can change the future for Canadians. In a report by 3 Deloitte, a one percent increase in literacy would create an economic benefit of $67 billion in gross domestic product for Canada per year and could boost the standard of living for everyone (3 An economic Overview of Children’s Literacy in Canada, November 2020). Illiteracy is linked to crime, poverty, and an increase in mortality rates. 4 People who come into contact with police, as suspects, victims, or witnesses, tend to have lower literacy skills. And neighbourhoods with lower literacy levels tend to have higher crime rates. People with low literacy often lack adequate problem-solving skills and tend to be less active citizens as well as more statistically likely to be involved in crime either as the offender or the victim. Offenders are three times as likely to have literacy problems than the rest of the population, 79 of 100 people entering Canadian correctional facilities do not have a high school diploma, and 65 of 100 people entering correctional facilities have less than a grade 8 education or level of literacy skills (4policeabc.ca). 5 Illiteracy is a problem for the Canadian economy as evidence shows that adults with low literacy skills are less likely to be employed and tend to stay unemployed for longer periods (5 College, 2019). 6 Statistics Canada reports that for individuals with literacy rates in the lowest category, 29% were low-income households (6Statistics Canada, 2016). Illiteracy is also linked to increased mortality rates, as those with low levels of literacy are more likely to have poor health and engage in riskier behaviours. 7 People with inadequate health literacy had a 50% higher mortality rate over five years than people with adequate reading skills (7 Sciencedaily.com). Illiteracy affects us all. 8 80% of a child’s brain is developed by age three, with a key period of development occurring in their language and literacy skills. Unfortunately, the quality of early childhood education a child receives is often determined by their economic status. By age five, 50% of children living in poverty are not academically or socially ready for school. By fourth grade, the divide increases, with 80% of low-income children reading below grade level. These children often fall behind during critical early years, which not only negatively affects their performance in the classroom but can also impact their social skills, health, and economic status later in life (8readingpartners.org).
By partnering with Pandamonium Publishing House Adopt-a-School literacy initiative, we can help the most vulnerable children in our country by helping them have access to books and igniting a love of literacy early in their academic careers and potentially throughout their lives. Here’s more information on how you can partner with us: Adopt a School! Literacy Matters – Pandamonium Publishing House
This fantastic poem titled February was submitted by A. Isaacs, I think it captures the spirit of the month perfectly! If you’d like the chance for your work to be featured on our blog, email pandapublishing8@gmail.com
February
Cloudy skies
Blanket the fields in darkness
The sky is gloomy
The rain taps softly on the window pane
Light a fire, snuggle with your cat, and drink in the romance of this moment
Snuggling under covers, turning the pages slowly so that the story is savoured, escaping from this place
Drink in the words, the worlds, the characters, their lives
The scent of pine, the sizzling branches, that pop and hiss and snap
Contented purr and soft fur rises and falls with her breath
Have you checked out our classes, courses, and workshops? We’ve got some great things coming up, whether you get a March Break or not! Here are some options to help you brush up on your skills, start a manuscript from scratch, or learn the publishing industry standards. Plus, we’ve got March Break courses for kids too! Virtual Courses, Classes, and Workshops – Pandamonium Publishing House click on the link or feel free to send us an email at pandapublishing8@gmail.com with any questions you have or to get additional details. Our goal is to help you with your writing goals; we strive to teach you the things that matter most to you in your unique publishing journey.
Here’s what some of our students are saying about our classes!
Get your tickets here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/534124419517 What questions do you have about publishing? If you’ve ever wanted the chance to speak to a publisher in person, now is your chance! I’ll be chatting about What Publishers Want on Friday, February 25 at 7 pm EST where all of your publishing and submission questions will be answered. Plus, when you attend this event, you’ll receive a free gift! I hope to see you there.
Remember the writing prompt we issued on January 25th? Here’s a recap: What’s more romantic than a tower, a canal, and a far-off place full of possibility? Today’s writing prompt is based on the picture below! What words and stories does this image bring to mind? I’d like you to write in a third-person perspective/point of view, 2000 words, and in the romance genre. Author Joey Nobleman submitted his story, The Perfect Frame. Check it out below!
The Perfect Frame by Joey Nobleman
The breezy thrust of the massive doors opening, as much as the pull of a hand, propelled her into the Great Hall of the Brugian Castle. “As we are soon wedded, we best begin here, with the history of my family,” Prince Harlander announced. “Yes, your Royal Highness,” Lady Adelind agreed. “Please, you have been too formal. I know we met only hours ago, but I am forevermore simply Harlander.” “Of course, Harlander, thank you.” Their letters of the past year had been polite and formulaic, gently easing into the arranged marriage. Adelind’s German family encouraged a future for her with Harlander in Belgium, despite his tragic past, as their families had longstanding ties. In a month, she would be married to a descendant of the patriarchs symmetrically portrayed on the walls before her, three on each of the west, north, and east panels. “This is my father,” Harlander commenced. “So proud of his portrait, he sat me here for hours when I was a boy and schooled me in its framing, especially. Father said framing is both control and beauty. It is only through its detailing that we consummate and experience perfection.” Upon completion of the Hall’s tour and in preparation for its exit, the prince stopped at the doorway, his arms spread wide. “The south wall has been left barren, save for use as an entranceway symbolically overseeing Europe. But let’s proceed to a much finer view of the most romantic city of the continent!”
As they casually strolled through Bruges’ anfractuous streets, Adelind became relieved that the prince was as polite and refined as in his letters. He was handsome and smart in his kerseymere frock, and while the more base desires that should possess a young woman in the presence of a fine gentleman had yet to manifest, the impending arrangement would be seamless and palatable should his manners, conduct, and temperament be appropriately regulated. It was on the latter that Adelind maintained a degree of apprehensiveness, for Prince Harlander’s constitution had been a topic of concern for many years since a disturbing event that shook both his person and nation, a matter she must broach with both urgency and sensitivity.
“And here it is, likely not as a surprise, the Belfry of Bruges!” the prince proudly declared. “Yes, Harlander,” she laughed. “I will not insult you with the pretence of surprise. Can we ascend immediately before the sun fully sets!” “Of course, my dear!” he readily agreed. Within a few moments, they were on the first of three hundred sixty-six steps, a number intriguing to the prince with its suggestion of yearly cycles, a repeating, predictable permanence akin to his family’s royal reign. It was only upon a comfortable rest partway, at the open stonework parapet, that Adelind spoke of the aforementioned palaver. “It must be very difficult for you – this ascent, this place, I mean?” “It is necessary, and has been since that day, that I come to the Tower, as I have done every fortnight for these many years, to face my…my…” “…demons?..” “Yes…I am glad that you do not fear to say it, for I know the affair is in the circles of gossip.” “No, Harlander, I do not introduce it as a matter of gossip!” “Of course not, my dear; I do not mean you, now. But I know there has been concern for my health since my parents died here, possibly from this very stoop. What has been said? Please tell me?” Adelind paused briefly to choose her words delicately. “Dear Harlander, and only by your permission and request, I will tell you that it is known that in your times of melancholy, you often uttered threats to your own person, But you have clearly overcome your illness. My family received encouraging news of it and have put their faith in you, in us.” “I thank them for that and for you. You are as lovely and beautiful as I imagined.” “Thank you. And I think it a miracle that you, or anyone, could recover from…what happened…” “Oh Adelind, you can say it; we must – I must – speak of it. My parents both fell to their deaths from here, one at the hands of the other and then by their own. Saying it is to confront the demon that possessed them – possessed him, as it likely was.” “I am grateful, relieved you can face it here and now,” supported Adelind. “You told us in your letters how your sister, especially, slowly brought you to healing.” As if a cloud retreated to submerge him in moonglow, Harlander’s face filled with joy. “My dear sister! It was only with her attention and love that I carried on. We felt very much isolated after losing our parents; we were both so young. I was just past maturity, and she was only a child. For the past seven years, we only have had each other.” “And look to what heights you have ascended, Prince Harlander!” celebrated Adelind in a change of tone. “Yes, my uncle may be King, but as he is forever on projects abroad, I have come to oversee Bruges and Belgium! Have you not noticed there is no one else in the Tower?” he playfully impressed her. “Alas, I did not, my Prince, as I was wholeheartedly swept away by your elevated character and majesty of your wisdom!” she replied in spirit. “But now that you mention it, how is it so?” “Ah, I am glad you asked, my dear! At my request, or shall we say command, the Tower is to be reserved for me. It’s good to be King!” “Indeed, Your Majesty! And your sister, Harlander, when can I meet her? I am quite looking forward to her company as I feel I know her so well. She means so much to you; I am sure she will to me also.” “Straightaway tomorrow, then, it shall be! Come now; we must return to the street as darkness has set. A climb to the belfry will have to await a return.”
Princess Catrina, having come into womanhood only recently, was several years younger than the marriageable Adelind. Excited at having met and instantly compatible, Catrina suggested a return to Belfry Tower to share an afternoon exploring its intricacies. Catrina’s royal privilege, comparable to Harlander’s, secured the structure for their use, and she began by leading Adelind arm-in-arm for her second excursion on the winding staircase. This time though, Adelind more finely appreciated the tower’s character, including its intermittent and distractive groanings, mysterious of origin in a build of stone. Also curious were irregularly disposed antechambers in the lower, broader levels, one of which Catrina insisted they enter, detouring their climb. The space impressed Adelind as something of an imperial suite, discomforting, however, rather than pleasant, with its tall Gothic windows, candelabrum, and gold ornamentation more gaudy, if not altogether barbaric, than elegant. “I wanted to show you this special place that Harlander has taken me since my childhood!” beamed Catrina. “Oh?” Adelind added curiously. It was to the drapes, already open and resting to either side of the central window, that Catrina directly attended, pulling them even further aside to reveal ropes curled and attached to the wall. “And what are those for, my dear?” enquired Adelind. “They are for Harlander’s passionate love of beauty through perfect framing!” delighted Catrina. Adelind recalled Harlander’s discourse on the matter. “And what does he frame here, child?” “Me, thankfully!” Catrina glowed. “You?” “Yes! Harlander says that with the view of Bruges and Belgium behind me, or above me if I am secured below the window or on the floor, the things he loves most are perfectly framed!”
Shuddering with disgust, and terror, Adelind barely summoned the breath to continue. “And what does he do with you once you are framed, my dear?..” Catrina’s chronicle of debaucheries, devoid of shame or self-consciousness, betrayed an innocence of the obscene, of the unholy, and of the vile perversion of sibling love bedded in her, and whose detailing here would be an affront to the written word. What will be noted, instead, is that Adelind’s response was an ejaculation of sorrow so profound that it inspired, mercifully, and certainly for the first time, the question from Catrina. “Is there something wrong?”
A mind and body so poisoned for years is not remedied by one conversation, or a day, or a month. Thus Adelind’s mission to awaken Catrina from her nightmare would extend through the remaining years of Catrina’s youth. In their many hours and days together, much was shared, revealed, and confronted, beginning with the mystery as to why, for so long, all was secret. As it happened, Harlander had secured the deviancy by convincing Catrina that it is only with immediate family, themselves, in essence, that shared intimacies of word or deed can occur. Catrina told Adelind because she was going to be family, a disclosure certainly unforeseen by Harlander. The months and years that followed brought a degree of relief for Catrina as she schemed to avoid Harlander’s sessions whenever possible; however, as a new bride, Princess Adelind was obliged to fulfil marital duties. Adelind’s prayers, from the day of Catrina’s revelations, were that by some miraculous grace, Harlander’s abuses would cease and her own relations with him be dignified or at least tolerable. Perhaps, if so, their royal lives together could proceed as planned. However, over time, and with Catrina’s distancing from Harlander’s depravities, Adelind increasingly drew his unnatural attention. Harlander’s deviance was to be an unrelenting reality, leaving Adelind wondering how she could possibly carry on. It was during one of the princesses’ scheduled walks that a light, of sorts, began to shine. “I am grateful, Catrina, that you, now a matured and able woman, are on a safer path. But, I fear I am fated for your shackles. There is no hope. I cannot leave him, nor love him,” Adelind despaired. “Nor can I, Adelind. It seems we only have each other,” Catrina lamented. In that moment, as their eyes met intently, they embraced and kissed, an incarnation of their growing intimacy and love, and, perhaps, that in some yet undefined way, there was hope…
It was the eve of the new century, and Prince Harlander arranged for possession of the Bruges Tower. Leading Adelind and Catrina once again up its serpentine stairwell, the Prince expounded on the magic of the Tower. He spoke of how thrice it had been burnt and rebuilt, a testament to persistence of tradition and family, and how its legend is captured in their castle’s Great Hall motif of three patriarchs on each of three walls. Upon their arrival at the rooftop, his attention became the evening at hand. Addressing them with his back to the rooftop’s south wall, Harlander continued. “Dear loves, my fervent anticipation of this evening surely comes of no surprise to you, for its artful beauty is too great to neglect. We must welcome the new century from this special place. So here we are at the stroke of midnight with all the city, all the country, all of Europe before us. Behold this most perfect frame!” And the Prince spread his arms high and wide as he turned to face the immense vista…
That the prince would take his own life seemed inevitable in the common knowledge of his severe melancholia, tempering the shock and horror of a wretchedly familiar demise. Each fortnight thereafter – the same schedule as Prince Harlander’s so as not to arouse suspicion – Princesses Adelind and Catrina procured the Bruges Tower to share their passion, pausing only momentarily upon departure to gaze above the doorway of the Great Hall’s south wall and Harlander’s portrait, the only one thereon. Their love was never to be of fullest happiness, for the world, as such, would not allow it, but one discreetly hopeful of what a new century might bring.
