Kathy: Silent Meridian brings together Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and John Patrick Scott, a concert pianist who also happens to be a paranormal investigator and time travel professor. Have you ever gone on any paranormal investigations?
EC: Not like the ones you see on television. In fact, I can’t stand watching those shows. They’re so staged. Probably got popular after the film, The Blair Witch Project. However, I’ve experienced paranormal incidents by accident. Years ago when I was in college some friends played around with a Ouija board in the basement below my apartment. Whatever they summoned decided to visit my place afterward. It was a horrible, oppressive feeling. My friends rushed over with sage and a bunch of other stuff and were ready to perform an exorcism!
However, the most important incident was when I purchased an antique that embodied some kind of spirit of its former owner which inspired me to write this book.
Kathy: In the first Time Traveler Professor Mystery we discover an alternate history for several famous people including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H.G. Wells, Harry Houdini, and Carl Jung. How did you decide these powerhouse men would be perfect for your story?
EC: My protagonist was actually based on a real, but largely unknown person who was indirectly tied into this “antique” I discovered that I mentioned in the previous question. When I was bitten by that bug of inspiration that spurred me on to write the Time Traveler Professor series, I wanted to pick famous Victorian contemporaries that John Patrick Scott could’ve known and associated with. Jung was a no-brainer. At one point, I wanted to study to be a Jungian psychotherapist, but it wasn’t in the cards. Jung always appealed to me over Freud, because of his focus on dreams and archetypes which tie into mythology. It’s well documented that Houdini and Doyle had a fascinating relationship regarding the supernatural, and since my protagonist kept having bizarre dreams and strange things happening to him, plus the fact that he also attended the University of Edinburgh, it only made sense to have him befriend Doyle.
Kathy: Were you already quite knowledgeable about these men before you began writing?
EC: Jung more than the others. Obviously, I picked up a lot more as I went along. Bottom line: I had to do an enormous amount of reading and research.
Kathy: Have you a particular favorite of the aforementioned characters as they existed in the real world?
EC: Each one is fascinating in their own different ways. With Sherlock Holmes, Doyle was a pioneer in forensics before it was considered a science. Houdini and Jung were groundbreakers in their own respective fields.
Kathy: What first drew you to mysteries?
EC: I always loved a good Victorian ghost story, and who doesn’t love Scooby Doo, which is technically a YA paranormal mystery with a sense of humor? Comparatively, I’m a latecomer when it comes to mysteries. I belong to Mystery Writers of America, Sherlockian groups, and Sisters in Crime and attend a lot of crime conferences. Most people I know have read far more in this genre than I have. Many of my Sherlockian friends read the canon (original Sherlock Holmes stories written by Doyle) when they were eight-years-old! All I remember is watching a handful of Basil Rathbone movies. I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t watch the Granada series with Jeremy Brett, who did the best portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, until seven years ago or so.
Kathy: Do you write in any other genres?
EC: Yes. For years I’ve written non-fiction articles in magazines and many of these specialized in martial arts. Right now, I do a lot of author interviews for Blackgate.com, a SF/F online magazine and am currently seeking paying clients in the mystery/suspense genre. For fiction, the Time Traveler Professor series is a cross-genre epic series—alternate history/mystery—fantasy noir—fictional memoir that finds its own cult audience—some who like Sherlock Holmes—some who like steampunk or time travel—some who have a yen toward paranormal/metaphysical historical fiction.
Conversely, I have two and a half novels completed in a Hollywood suspense series that takes place in the 1990s with a female protagonist who is an entertainment journalist. It is far less esoteric than the Time Traveler Professor series. However, it’s unpublished, and I’m looking for a new literary agent. My background is in the entertainment industry. I can definitely picture these novels as a series on Netflix or Amazon Prime, but for that I need an agent.
Kathy: Tell us about your series.
EC: The Time Traveler Professor, Book One: Silent Meridian is a 19th century X Files meets H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine featuring Arthur Conan Doyle and his paranormal enthusiast partner, John Patrick Scott.
The Time Traveler Professor, Book Two, A Pocketful of Lodestones: Imagine Slaughterhouse Five meets Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell on the Western Front.
Currently, I’m working on the third book, A War in Too Many Worlds, but I don’t have a catchy tag line locked down yet. It picks up in 1918 until the end of the war and its aftermath.
Kathy: Do you have a favorite character? If so, who and why?
EC: John Patrick Scott, my protagonist, of course. Poor guy is a flawed, unwilling explorer in the game of life with a pesky sidekick, Finn, who drives him bonkers but prods him along to the next adventure.
Kathy: Did you have a specific inspiration for your series?
EC: I mentioned it above when I spoke about finding a psychic influence in an antique.
Kathy: What made you decide to publish your work?
EC: Originally, the first book was published by a small press in London that buried it into obscurity by refusing to market, promote or distribute it or any of the books in their catalogue. Unfortunately, it was impossible to find a larger publishing company to pick up a series where someone else had already published the first book. Kicking and screaming, I took the bull by the horns and started my own publishing company to revive the series, because I refused to give my original publisher any more of my novels. You have to realize that each book in that series has required several trips overseas for research. I had way too much invested in time, money and effort to drop the ball. My traditional publisher didn’t even provide editorial services. I had to hire my own freelance editors out of pocket.
Kathy: If you could have a dinner party and invite 4 authors, living or dead, in any genre, who would you invite?
EC: Arthur Conan Doyle, for sure. H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, and Edgar Alan Poe. So far, all of them show up in my novel except Poe.
Kathy: What are you currently reading?
EC: (Blush) I’m reading a romance novel called Storm Damage about a mermaid falling in love with a human she saved. I almost never read romance novels (true confession), but an author friend of mine wrote it, and she’s a very successful and popular romance writer. Also, I’m attending the RWA (Romance Writers of America) annual convention to learn a bit more about writing romance and steamy scenes. Not so much for the Time Traveler Professor series, but more for my Hollywood suspense series, although there is an interesting love triangle in Book One. No spoilers for Books Two and Three.
Kathy: Will you share any of your hobbies or interests with us?
EC: Reading, of course. Attending live author readings, traveling, going to conventions. It’s hard to separate business from pleasure.
Kathy: Name 4 items you always have in your fridge or pantry.
EC: That’s a funny question—whole milk for coffee, Haagen Daz, bread, peanut butter.
Kathy: Do you have plans for future books either in your current series or a new series?
EC: Current series, The Time Traveler Professor, Book Three: A War in Too Many Worlds wrapping up WWI. Hopefully, I can wrap up the series with Book 4. For alternate history: a series based on Aliskiya Lleullne, the girl from the future (read Silent Meridian!) The Hollywood suspense series (different genre) and a stand-alone chick-lit/mystery project about three women who skip the country to avoid their problems and encounter more than they bargained for.
Kathy: What's your favorite thing about being an author?
EC: Getting positive feedback from fans and readers.
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The Time Traveler Professor, Book One:
Silent Meridian
by Elizabeth Crowens
on Tour August 18 - September 21, 2019
Synopsis:
Like Holmes and Watson trying to solve a mystery, together they explore lost worlds and their friendship is tested to the limits when they go back in time to find it. Both discover that karmic ties and unconscionable crimes have followed them like ghosts from the past, wreaking havoc on the present and possibly the future.
The Time Traveler Professor, Book One: SILENT MERIDIAN reveals the alternate histories of Conan Doyle, H.G. Wells, Houdini, Jung and other luminaries in the secret diaries of John Patrick Scott, in an X Files for the 19th century. First Prize winner of Chanticleer Review's Goethe Award for Turn-of-the-Century Historical Fiction and First Prize for Steampunk in the Independent Press Awards. Stay tuned for A POCKETFUL OF LODESTONES; Book Two in the Time Traveler Professor series by Elizabeth Crowens.
Book Details:
Genre: Alternate History, Mystery, Fantasy Noir
Published by: Atomic Alchemist Productions LLC
Publication Date: June 12th 2019
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 9781950384 (ISBN13: 9781950384044)
Series: The Time Traveler Professor #1
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Edinburgh, 1898
Scotland was just barely crawling its way out of the nineteenth century. I was a naïve, but ambitious student studying music at the University of Edinburgh hurrying over to meet Arthur Conan Doyle, the man who would change my life forever.“John Patrick Scott, sir,” I said and approached Mr. Doyle, who was already seated at a back corner table of the Deacon Brodie, the pub that inspired the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
I extended my hand to greet him and removed my rain-soaked hat, while my overcoat slipped out of my hands and fell on the floor by accident. It was still hard to believe that good fortune finally brought us together, but we were both nervous. “Mr. Conan Doyle, or should I call you Doctor Doyle?” I was unsure how to address him.
Doyle scrutinized me from top to bottom as he signaled the waiter. “John, call me Arthur.”
“Sir, I’m so honored that you agreed to discuss this matter. Perhaps you can enlighten me in a way that I’ve failed to comprehend.”
I wanted to ask him about my unusual turn of events straight away but he caught me off guard and was dead set on pulling me into the swift current of an unexpected conversation.
“Can I assume you believe in the transmigration of souls?” he asked.
“Until now, I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” I said, unsure as to which direction he was leading.
“Did you ever read those books about that Swiss doctor who felt his body and soul had been taken over by a Benedictine monk? That presented a curious case. He claims that he was approached by the spirit of an elderly monk before he died, and that the monk needed to rent his body to continue his spiritual mission.”
“Rent?” I choked in disbelief.
“We truly don’t take anything with us when we pass on, do we? This monk knew he was dying and therefore needed to replace his physical body with something more youthful and vital.”
“That’s incredible. It debunks the theory that you need to die and be reborn as an infant to carry on your spirit.”
Mr. Doyle had the tinge of excitement in his voice.
“John, here’s another instance. I’ve had my suspicions about a famous musician who had an obsession about a notorious and controversial mystic. You’d surmise by his overwhelming attraction to that person he might’ve been him in a previous lifetime, but facts were clear he was born three years before the mystic died. My understanding is the mystic was aware he didn’t have long in his present incarnation. Therefore he made plans for some sort of partial soul transference while he was still alive to imprint his essence upon the child. That would’ve allowed him to carry on and accomplish unfinished business, which couldn’t have been executed otherwise. Essentially he had the ability of being two places at once.”
“Sounds more like Spiritualism,” I replied.
“Honestly, John, I don’t think there are any steadfast rules when it comes to this matter. That’s what makes it so intriguing.”
I sensed he had a secret agenda.
Doyle reloaded his churchwarden pipe with fresh tobacco and continued, “This is not at all like anything you’ve ever read from H.G. Wells or Jules Verne. We’re poking holes in every treatise written on the subject — the idea of being able to reincarnate a part of yourself while you are still alive into another soul.”
Our conversation was quickly becoming like a speeding train ready to jump the tracks. Realizing this, Doyle slowed down the pace and took a deep breath. He carefully composed his next statement.
“Fiction it may seem to be but it’s not hocus pocus. Don’t you also find it strange that you somehow found yourself initiated into a mystical order on a commuter train bound from London to Edinburgh when the instigators kept on mistaking you for me? There are no accidents.”
I became silent for a moment, stalling for time as I slowly raised my glass of ale to my lips. As soon as I fished a small red book out of my coat pocket and placed it on the table in front of us Arthur eyed it intently. It had been the source of intrigue, which led me to Doyle in the first place and piqued his curiosity as much as it did mine.
“Could I have done something terrible in my youth that caused this to happen?”
“You have no recollections, John?”
“I remember so little of my childhood. I wish I could.”
“You’re a smart young man. I’m sure you’ll come up with a clever deduction.”
Mr. Doyle paused to relight his pipe. He had an unnerving look in his eye, which I vainly tried to read into, but he took me for a spin when he brought up the next topic.
“On another note, John, have you ever considered that people are capable of communicating without speech, and I’m not talking about writing letters?”
“Pardon me?”
“Imagine communicating by mere thoughts. I’ve always wanted to experiment with someone open to these concepts. God knows — my brothers at the Society for Psychical Research certainly talk enough about it. My wife, Touie, has been an unwilling subject and is not the most objective choice.”
I looked at him, somewhat perplexed. “Are you asking me to accurately guess what you’re thinking?”
“Come now. We’ll play a game. I’ll form an image in my mind, and for the next minute I will try to project it into yours. Clear your thoughts of any distractions and be as receptive as possible,” he explained.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t have been more preoccupied. Images of that fateful event flashed through my brain. My recollections revealed my rain-soaked train ticket. I kept arguing with the steward about putting me in the wrong cabin. An erroneous judgment had been made when three strangers insisted I was Arthur. We were so different in physical appearance. He was a large, athletic man with a distinguished moustache. On the other hand, I had baby smooth skin and couldn’t grow facial hair to save my life. I was nearly twenty years younger and much shorter with wild auburn hair that resembled Maestro Beethoven’s with the exception of premature strands of gray.
So why was I singled out? Was there laudanum in my brandy? Details spun like a whirlwind. I must’ve been in a drug-induced stupor but I was initiated into some secret Masonic-like society, and when it was all over those mysterious men were gone. What remained were an engraved silver ring on my finger and an ominous red book on the seat beside me.
“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” Arthur broke my trance and realized my thoughts had been elsewhere.
“I felt like I had.” Barely able to articulate, I tried to tame my wild mane in place. Visions faded in and out. Timelines jumped. So I gulped down another swig of ale to focus on the present.
Arthur leaned in closer. “I can see you’re still worried about that event on the train. Those men have been after me for some time. Why? It’s hard to fathom. I’ll dilly dally with notions here and there about Sherlock Holmes and his partner, Watson, who fancy themselves as detectives. Me? I’m just a simple doctor and writer with interests in Spiritualism trying to find scientific explanations for the unknown.”
“Arthur, what would anyone want with an unassuming music student like me?”
“Personally, I don’t think this was A Case of Identity,” Arthur replied with a smile.
Obviously he meant to say my dilemma was not a case of mistaken identity, not the name of one of his famous Sherlock stories. He was pleased I caught the humor of his play on words.
“Perhaps it has something to do with that book,” he said pointing to the one I brought.
“I’m concerned it’s dangerous, that it’s a curse. I wish I had never found it.” I shoved it back into my pocket and drained my glass.
* * *
One week later as I was returning home from school, my landlady, Lydia Campbell, yelled from the kitchen as I trudged my muddied shoes through the front door of her boarding house. “John, a letter from Undershaw arrived for you today! I wonder whom it could be from? You don’t know anyone from Undershaw, do you?”
Oh, yes I did. I grabbed the letter and ran upstairs so fast I nearly tripped on my muffler and fell on my face. I poured myself a glass of port to calm my nerves, doffed my wet garments and sank into my most comfortable brass-studded leather chair I affectionately named my thinking chair, where I created many a melody in my head, could think deep thoughts, and drift off to dreamland.
* * *
Dear John,
I wholeheartedly enjoyed our conversation at the Deacon Brodie and kept my promise of a prompt reply. By now, you are well aware of my passion to explore the realms of Spiritualism and related paranormal phenomena far surpasses any personal interests involved with Sherlock Holmes. Public demand for my writing, however, exerts a strain on how much I can overtly reveal to even my most trusted colleagues. Whenever I indulge in any activity, be it a simple séance, investigating a revered medium or attending a meeting of the British Society for Psychical Research, it never fails to raise the eyebrows of my wary publishers and critics. It’s God’s honest truth that I believe in many of these inexplicable accounts. Even my father painted beautiful renditions of fairies, which I trust he witnessed with his own eyes. The betterment of mankind rests on embracing such theories once they are proven to exist by the scientific community. Thus, I’ll have to continue more controversial and debatable endeavors in utmost secrecy, or at least for the time being until more evidence can be brought to light.
Since you seem to be an open-minded young man who has already experienced some effects of the preternatural, this is my proposal: At midnight every night, we should conduct a variety of remote operations with the primary purpose of communicating through means of telepathy. Since I have a tendency to travel, we’ll have to make some sort of adjustment to take into account the different time zones. Of course, you must share this secret with nobody. Besides us, only my wife will know, although she will not participate.
When you shared the account of the strange commuter train incident that was enough to convince me that you would be the perfect partner for this private undertaking. Most assuredly, there was something you did in the past in the realm of the arcane to warrant such a chain of events. That was not mere happenstance, and now since you possess that enigmatic red book, I’m sure it will affect your life in ways you’ve never imagined.
My intentions have been to perform similar trial and error enterprises with Harry Houdini, a rising star whose stage performances have been astounding audiences, but his busy schedule has made it nearly impossible to coordinate such engagements with any sort of regularity. One of these days we’ll catch up. Meanwhile, I collect whatever news comes from across the herring-pond. At one point, he and I will develop a special relationship based on mutual interests.
Regarding the two of us, however, we’ll back up our observations with letters or telegrams as often as possible as proof of results, but those must be destroyed as soon as they are read. Once again, I cannot over emphasize the importance of confidentiality. Regardless, we must keep a faithful agreement, as skill will come with practice.
If you are willing to put aside any apprehensions regarding trains, I’ll pay for you to travel down to Undershaw and visit me on weekends whenever possible. My driver can meet you in London at a pre-arranged time. You’ll stay in one of our guest bedrooms, and as long as you don’t mind the children and can tolerate what our kitchen staff provides, you’ll be well taken care of. That’ll give us the opportunity to expand our repertoire and commence further psychical experimentation with ectoplasm, spirit photography and astral projection. And bring the red book. I’d like a chance to look at it.
I’ve also desired a partner to accompany me for ghost sightings and occult investigations. For all we know with the knowledge gained, we might even break through the barriers of time. That would certainly give Bertie (H.G. Wells) a shock to the senses, proving his imagination does not merely dwell in the realm of fiction. We’ve been at odds on this topic for years.
Regarding telepathic technique, I can only suggest you conduct yourself in a way as you see fit. Personally, I don’t give credence to things like magical amulets, but if it helps to have an etheric link, use this letter you hold in your hand, as it contains my heart, soul and signature with a drop of blood, which I added to the ink. You might wish to reciprocate.
Let’s raise our glasses to honor the quest of conquering the unknown.
Arthur Conan Doyle
* * *
So, Arthur was serious when he first brought up the subject. When he and I left the pub, I really didn’t know what to think. After all, he was a famous author, and I was merely a student. What possessed him to choose me for such an engagement?
I shuffled through my schoolwork to find my pen and ink and a fresh sheet of paper. Blood, I needed blood. Ah, my razor! That would work. I fetched my shaving kit and winced as I drew a few drops. I scribbled a swift, affirmative reply with the blood-tainted ink, mailed the letter the following day and looked forward to our first otherworldly encounter.
***
Excerpt from The Time Traveler Professor, Book One: Silent Meridian by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.
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That is wild that the author has experienced paranormal instances. A bit scary for me.
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