Kate's new enhanced eBook available on the iBookstore

Kate's first installment of The Birth on the iBookstore.

Are you wondering what I mean by 'Transmedia Fiction' ? This video might answer your question.

And for something COMPLETELY different...

Transmedia Fiction Project by Kate:
  • THE BIRTH: Transmedia Fiction by Kate Lynch.
Kate Lynch is the writer and creator of the transmedia fiction project called The Birth (copyright Kate Lynch LLC 2013) .  Kate has been working on this project for many years, and is looking forward to you checking out her work as an enhanced eBook full of text, original songs, films, and extra bits.  
To read an excerpt please click here.
Please look for The Birth: Section One, Justin at the iBookstore on your iPad. 


Excerpt from The Birth: Section Two, Amalia, by Kate Lynch

Amalia. Prevorst. 1805-1815 

...i noticed while visiting them as a girl of eight or nine, the perfect veneer they had applied to our eyes was beginning to crack and I saw how sick the whole home in Loewenstein really was. Our Uncles were wrongish in their actions and I think their very natures, and it seemed to me, overly concerned with Frederike. Not a sort of loving care, but more pre-occupied irritation. There were times of silence in that home that were so loud I had to take myself into the garden to find noise and peace. These people were miserable sorts. There were things going on that I did not even actually see or understand but that I felt in my bones to be bad. My village back in Prevorst was poor and Granny Wanner simple, but I began to realize that contrary to common sense, misery does not exclude the wealthy from its grip.

Granny Wanner had given me vials of ‘this and that’ to bring to Loewenstein on my visits. The ‘this and that’ was aimed to calm Frederike’s unusual temperament and to slow and dampen the sight. On each of my few visits over the years, Frederike refused the vials and emptied their contents into the window box. Grandmother Schmidgall had made her promise todisavow Granny Wanner’s "devilish and outdated ways."

At night when we lay down to sleep, I imagined the content of the vials slowing spreading through the dirt in the window box. I could see the strange flowers that were born of Granny Wanners care and attention meant for Frederike. Blossoms too large and too lovely, heavy pinks and downey blues. Flowers with mouths that speak words so soft I could almost hear their whispering through the haze of early slumber.

When visiting the Schmidgalls grandmother and grandfather expressed no respect for Granny Wanner who was more like a mother to me than my own mother. Grandmother Schmidgall mentioned to me more than once in reference to Granny Wanner, “That woman sends shivers down my spine.” She warned me to keep my distance. I didn’t bother to tell Grandmother Schmidgall that any sort of distance would be impossible because I LIVED with Granny Wanner more often than not. I spent more time with Granny than any one else. At the very moment of any conversation with Grandmother Schmidgall I wore a charm pouch filled with anise seeds around my neck and a sprig of lorbeer in my pocket meant to provide me strength over sin and also meant to ward off evil. By just giving them to me, Granny Wanner was showing me her distrust of these people and was also trying to warn me of the strange pull and glamour surrounding the Schmidgalls.

Whenever I was with either one of my Grandmothers I felt as if I needed to duck from the respective God assaults hurled through me, the messenger. It was always “No good God fearing woman would...” from each of them. Each claimed that there was only one true Christian Lord, but as far as I could tell these two women were definitely not talking about the same God.

“God forbid you should ever leave Prevorst” said one granny and “God forbid you should stay in Prevorst” from the other. I asked them each about their different Gods now and again until around twelve years of age when I finally saw how it vexed them when each responded angrily “There is only one God!” Eventually I dropped the topic completely. But I decided to keep my anise-lorbeer charm on whenever attending church because I started to distrust God in the same way the grandmother’s distrusted each other.

I went to church with Granny Wanner, not each Sunday, but the important ones to be sure. Some Sunday afternoons mother would drop by and scold Granny for keeping me out of church. She would take me “home” in a big to-do huff. On those occasions Granny would calmly pat my hands, tuck a few herbs into my apron, kiss the back of my head and hand me my pillow on my way out her crude little door. It would sometimes be for a while that I had to live in my home with my brothers and my parents until mother would become undone again and I would be shoved out of the house to wander down the path into Granny’s care once more. 

The Birth is a work of transmedia fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel (conveyed as plain text, song, film, enhanced eBook, website and/or App) are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictionally.