North Country: A Kat Wallace Adventure, action-adventure speculative fiction by Sarah Branson Book Tour with Guest Post and Author Q&A
Excerpts:
Kat, February 8 1100
The four of us tramp along for three-quarters of a bell
through the snow from where the Whydah is parked and camouflaged, following the
old, wooded, water path. Our footsteps are muffled and our voices silent in the
dim dawn. The cold stings my cheeks, and in my gloves, I pull my fingers from
their assigned places to rub against my warm palms. The horizon, when the trees
are clear enough to be seen, has the thin, chill, morning light of winter
filtering about the soaring, craggy mountains that jut up and keep the villages
near the lake isolated from the coastal folk and, let’s be honest, almost
everyone else.
A deep inhale pulls the icy air inside of my nose, where it
stings, but I can catch a hint of wood and coal smoke in the air. The fragrance
brings a host of memories with it, and I’m actually surprised that not all of
them are bad. Grandma Rina’s voice rings in my little girl ears: “Stick to the
trails, my little Kitten, and always fill both your water jugs to the same
level. It makes balancing them easier.” This recently unearthed memory lifts my
spirits, and I shake my head a little as less pleasant ones try to push to the
front to gain my attention. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other,
which is work, as through the night the snow has blown onto the path, and it
almost feels like we are breaking a new trail.
We reach a small crossroad clearing that, while snow-covered,
still shows the ruts from hand wagons having been pulled along over the years.
I pull out the old compass that Teddy left me after he died and check our
bearings. “Based on my memory and those old maps, we have about another
bell-plus to reach the farm location.” My breath blows out in puffs of steam.
“Why didn’t the settlers build the village closer to the lake?
Seems like a long way to trek for water before they dug wells.” Carisa has her
academic inquiry voice on.
With a chuckle, I challenge her, “Oh, I think you know. Given what
I’ve said about their superstitious nature…”
“A lake monster?” Carisa sounds giddy. “Oh, that is the stuff of
great mythology.”
Sergeant Porter looks back, her brows creased. “Not a real monster, though, right?”
I grin and give the North Country answer. “Well, I ain’t never saw
it myself, but I got a cousin who had a friend whose uncle was ’et up by it.”
Flossie Porter looks horrified, and I laugh. “There’s two kinds of folk here in
this village and the surrounds, Porter, the superstitious ones and the ones
savvy enough to exploit the superstitious. Is there something big in Tassy?
Maybe. Is it a monster? Doubtful? Will the story keep your kids from going too
close to the lake? Absolutely. Will it guarantee a quiet meeting place for less
than legitimate endeavors? Yes, ma’am, it will.”
Carisa is still staring back toward where the lake lies. “The
Myths of the North Country.” She says wistfully, “I’d like to write that book.”
“Sounds like a fine idea. More of the research can happen on our
next trip here.” Which will be just this
side of absolutely never, I quip to myself. “For now, we should come to
where the road veers off toward the farm location in another couple kilometers.
Once we have established a base.” I point at the two BI troopers. “The two of
you can head to the mountain. Carisa and I will continue our own fact-finding
efforts.” I wink at my blonde friend as we start back on our journey through
the snow.
Kat, February 8 1145
We wipe our boots on the faded rug made with braided fabric scraps
and shake and brush the snow off our coats before stepping from the foyer into
the tavern proper. It’s a pretty nice place, definitely on the new side;
reminds me a bit of Ray’s back in Bosch. The walls and floor are all rough
wood, with heavy beams on the ceiling. Stools, most occupied, surround several
tables, and two or three men sit on barrels at the bar. The floor is littered
with sawdust and nutshells that crunch under our boots and release a fragrance
that stirs a memory and causes my stomach to turn. I breathe out through my
nose as if to cast the flashback aside. Wrong
bar, wrong time. The place was buzzing with conversation from the early
drinkers when we first walked in but went quiet as the locals turned to see
four strange women arrive. My delight at having this be a woman-only mission
wanes a bit. Women don’t go wandering into taverns on their own without a man
in Allanavik. At least they didn’t twenty-five years ago, and given the
somewhat ominous silence, I don’t think they do now either.
I herd my little group closer to the bar and start to order
something to warm us up. The bartender, dressed in a somewhat clean homespun
shirt and dark pants with an apron wrapped around his moderate paunch, is tall
and middle-aged with dark stubble on both his head and his chin. His gray eyes
survey me and my friends, and before I can speak, he asks, “Where are your
menfolk?”
I hear Diamond give a quiet scoff behind me, but I ignore her.
Instead, I look right at the man and lie through my teeth. “They just a bit
behind us. Should be catching up soon.”
Stubble-Head looks slightly mollified both by the answer and my
North Country patois, but has a follow-up. “You folks aren’t from around here.”
It isn’t a question. “Hunting party?”
“Yep,” I answer but add nothing. Keep the lie as simple as
possible.
Now his eyes rest squarely on Diamond. He gestures with his head.
“She yours?”
Fuck. He is assuming Diamond is a servant or even a thrall, simply
based on her coloring. This is not the place to make a moral stance, though, so
I just say, “She with us.”
He gives a disinterested
tilt of his head. I take his quiet for belief in my story and quickly lay a few
markers on the bar. “We be chilled. Might we get a bit of soup to warm us? And
some tea? Maybe some whiskeys for our men?” The markers are whisked quickly
away and with a grunt and jut of his chin, Stubble-Head directs us to a
standing table next to the fireplace against the far wall. I’d rather be closer
to the door, but this will be warmer, and at least I can see the whole joint
this way. With his acceptance of our markers, the rest of the clientele assumes
we are harmless and return to chasing their lunchtime buzz as they talk shit
about their neighbors, and likely us.
Guest Post:
When a Character Changes Your Life
So, I was perfectly delighted to work as a midwife. I loved
my clients. I enjoyed my co-workers. I absolutely adored being present as a new
life entered the world. Sure, call sucked, as it does, and I had taken a step
back from a busy midwifery practice several years earlier to be more present
for kids, which morphed into my husband, our youngest son, and I going overseas
to teach. But even overseas, midwifery still defined me, and I was honored to
attend births for friends in a couple different countries. Upon returning to
the States, I happily restarted my midwifery practice with never a thought of
doing anything else. And that’s where I was for a decade.
In 2018, my partner and I agreed that he should start job
hunting for a new position and he was reluctant because my home birth practice
was thriving, but it was definitely time for him to make a switch and I
reassured him I could restart a practice wherever we landed. That journey took
us to Connecticut where I began work at a birth center just as the pandemic
hit.
Three things intersected during that time that altered the
course of my life. First, the midwives kept an informal report where we would
summarize the events of our call period to allow for smooth transition between
midwives. My entries also included my inner thoughts and commentaries about the
day and night which apparently delighted my co-midwives. At one point, Jenna
turned to me after reading the report and said, “I love reading your entries.
Have you ever published anything?” I scoffed and told her no. But the idea
bumped around in my brain. Second, I had a long commute– over 90 minutes one
way which gave me ample time to sit with my thoughts after I turned off the
audiobooks, the podcasts and the music. Third, I stayed at the birth center
while on call because of the commute, which meant I had a good chunk of alone
time if no one was laboring.
Now, a little insight into my childhood. It was a good one,
but pretty non-standard. My dad was born under a wandering star, or he was a
spy, background data was pretty thin. My mom taught special education classes
in the days when schools were desperate for a qualified teacher. All that meant
we moved every year or two up until I was in middle school. Moving during
elementary meant I have no “friends since diapers”, but also, I learned to make
friends quickly. It also meant that I learned to play alone, especially as my
sister got older and was less inclined to play little-kid games. I spent hours
with my plastic animals– mainly horses– in imaginative play. When I was in
fifth and sixth grade, one of my favorite things to do was drag the hose over
to the section of the garden that my dad had not planted, create some mud and
build an island for my horses to live on and then have them work through all
the mini-dramas I created for them. [Author leans over and whispers in reader’s
ear] I never really stopped the
make-believe. [Author looks anxiously at reader to assess how crazy they
think she is] Sure, I put the animals aside and stopped creating mud islands,
but if I was on a long car ride or somewhere with a chunk of alone time, my
brain would create all kinds of scenarios for me and to play in.
So, my commute and my time alone at the birth center were
golden opportunities for make-believe and during this time, Kat Wallace
appeared in my passenger seat with a story to tell. And as her story spun out
and I put her in a variety of situations, I thought to myself: I should write this down…
Before I knew it, this escaped thrall turned pirate had me
out running miles after a long layoff, learning to box, learning to shoot,
learning to fly a plane, all while introducing me around to her found family
and new friends. I could not get the words down fast enough and the cute little
story that I was just writing for myself morphed into something I shared with
family, then friends, then an editor. Before I knew it, I was writing book one
of a series and upon publication, I retired from midwifery to pursue being an
author full time. It is a choice that has brought me great joy.
Is there a moral to this story? No. Do I think you all
should quit your day jobs and follow your creative impulses? Only if you want
to and can still pay your bills (and buy books– I have some specific
recommendations). Can you pivot at any age and open yourself up to pursue a
passion? Absolutely. Kat Wallace has shown me that pushing yourself outside of
your comfort zone and attempting things that you never thought possible can
lead you to experiences and friendships and personal insights that allow you to
grow so much as a person.
Author Q&A
On
writing:
How did you
do research for your book?
It depends on the book! For my series, I took up
boxing to understand the nuances of fights; I took shooting lessons, and I
learned (via computer simulation) how to fly a plane. For my YA book, Unfurling the Sails, I learned how to
sail. For North Country, I explored
Norse mythology as well as the Inuit culture in Greenland. I connected with two
dear people that deal with MS on a daily basis to get their perspective. And I
kept a daylight calendar up to refer to so I’d know if my characters would be
functioning in the dark.
Which was
the hardest character to write? The easiest?
I think Diamond was the most difficult character
to write, because I knew her the least. In fact, she got a heavy re-write that
expanded and deepened her character after I had reached the “all done” stage.
It made her far more complex and far more interesting. Kat certainly is the
easiest to write because I know her so intimately after seven books.
Where do you
get inspiration for your stories?
Inspiration is everywhere. But these days you
don’t have to go far to find inspiration for feminist speculative fiction– a
quick scan of the headlines or ten minutes on reddit is all that is needed to
pose the question, how would Kat and her colleagues deal with something like
this?
There are
many books out there about adventure. What makes yours different?
The characters. Kat Wallace is an amazing
character, she is a strong woman to be sure, but she is also a bit of a mess.
She screws up, makes mistakes and fails. Then she picks herself up and tries
again. Her inner voice resonates with readers who find her relatable. And she’s
also a pirate, and who doesn’t love pirates?
Your book is
set in Bosch and the North Country. Have you ever been there?
Well since the setting is three hundred years in
the future in a world remade, only in my mind. However, I certainly have been
to Maine and explored the islands there. I would love to go to Greenland, but
have not yet traveled there.
Do you have
another profession besides writing?
For thirty years I worked as a nurse-midwife in
all the venues. I also spent time as a middle and high school teacher, both in
the US and overseas.
How long
have you been writing?
Somewhere between five and fifty-nine years. I
have always loved writing and storytelling and fancied myself a poet as a kid.
Perhaps you have a crumpled copy of “The King of the Sea” in your possession?
Okay, probably not. But I did not start writing professionally until 2020 with
the publication of my debut novel A Merry
Life.
What is your
next project?
There are three New Earth projects simmering
currently: another Kat Wallace adventure, a second YA Grey Shima adventure, and
a second middle grade adventure featuring the boys, Kik & Mac.
What genre
do you write and why?
This is a great question, because it should be
an easy answer, but for me it is not. I really had no idea the genre until my
editor for my debut novel said, “Sarah, it’s set in the future–it’s science
fiction.” I tried to convince him that perhaps it was historical fiction that
just hadn’t happened yet, but he was having none of my shenanigans. Then I
found the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and read that women’s fiction is
characterized by the emotional journey of the main character. “Aha, I must write
women’s fiction then!” Which I do, sorta. Honestly, it was not until North Country was published that I found
a descriptor that could encompass all the aspects of my stories. I write
feminist speculative fiction.
If your book
were made into a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?
Oooo! I have a soundtrack on Spotify!
A few songs on it:
“Girl from the North Country” by Bob Dylan
“It’s Not Over Yet” by King & Country
“Mean” and “Mine” by Taylor Swift
“Real Friends” by Camila Cabello
“All Your Lies” by Dean Lewis
“Cold Rain and Snow” Grateful Dead
Go listen and suggest more!
In one
sentence, what was the road to publishing like?
Publishing North
Country, my seventh novel, was pretty straightforward, however, for my
debut novel, A Merry Life, the road
to publishing was like standing mere feet in front of a blasting firehose of
learning, hoping I drink in enough but still avoid drowning.
Who is the
author you most admire in your genre?
So many: Butler, LeGuin, L’Engle, Heinlein,
Asimov, Bradbury, Taylor, Weir, Jemisin, Mandel. My father loved science
fiction, so he introduced me to so many of the foundational authors in science
fiction, and I think they stayed with me. My mother was feminist before
feminist was a thing. So it is no surprise I became a feminist speculative
fiction author.
On
rituals:
Where do you
write?
While I have a lovely desk looking out my back
window that I occasionally write at, I prefer to write curled up, either in bed
or in the corner of the couch. Probably not the best ergonomically, but it
seems to be the space where the most writing gets accomplished.
Do you write
every day?
In some fashion, even if I don’t put words down
on paper, I do write every day. If I am not actively writing, then I am
pre-writing– imagining scenarios and events that will appear in the next book.
If it is a day for promotion work, then I am writing about writing. So the
written word is a part of most every day for me.
In today’s
tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written
parts of your book on paper?
I outline and pre-write on big sheets of poster
paper with multi-colored markers to get an idea of the character arcs and the
structure of the book I am about to begin. These bright, colorful pages then go
up on the walls where I can see them as I begin the writing process.
Fun
stuff:
If you could
go back in time, where would you go?
Can I go forward? I’d like to see what three
hundred years from now really looks like!
Favorite
travel spot?
I currently have two– from the past, the Manitou
islands in Lake Michigan and more recently, Nice, France. Both of these places
give me a chance to swim in some beautiful waters and see some magnificent
sights.
Favorite
dessert?
I do love chocolate. But recently coffee ice
cream with salted caramel sauce has been a favorite.
What’s the
most courageous thing you’ve ever done?
Taking the leap from a well-paid career I loved
to being an author (which I also love) full time.
Name a
quirky thing you like to do.
I really, really like to hit the heavy bag.
There’s something about it that is just the right combination of exercise and
therapy.
What is
something you've learned about yourself during the pandemic?
That I could do things I never thought possible.
Like write a book, or four…or seven.
What song is
currently playing on a loop in your head?
“Take Me to Church” by Hozier
What is your
go-to breakfast item?
Hard-boiled egg with Maldon salt and everything
bagel seasoning
What is the
oldest item of clothing you own?
The Dead Fish skirt that was my mother’s when
she was young. Lord knows I can’t fit into anymore, but I have it!
Tell us
about your longest friendship.
While I have friends from high school I have
reconnected with, I am pretty sure that distinction goes to my husband of
almost forty-three years (known each other for 45). We met my freshman year of
college and have been together ever since. He has been my best friend through
all the highs and lows of life, and I can’t imagine a better partner.
What is the
strangest way you've become friends with someone?
Over a decade ago, I put an ad out on social
media for a birth assistant and the woman who answered it became one of my
dearest friends and an amazing midwife.
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