Saturday, September 29, 2012

Sweet Saturday Sample - September 29, 2012

EEK! I've been super busy this week with a family member, and forgot to post anything. Here's a part of a scene from Spinster's Folly where Marie Owen is on a trail drive with her brothers.
~~~

When Pa called, “Mount up,” at the end of their noon rest, Marie hauled herself up into the saddle with shaky arms. The noon break hadn’t been long enough to restore the strength she’d lost as the morning waned. How she would keep up with the steers for the rest of the day was uncertain to her mind, but she surely wasn’t going to voice her doubts in this company.
Fortunately, Pa’s next words were to Albert. “You take drag this afternoon. Marie can ride in your place.”
Mentally thanking her father, Marie rode to where the steers had been grazing as she rested. How do I get them started? she wondered, but Clay came along and answered that question by riding up to the rump of the nearest animal and prodding it into motion with his foot. “Get ‘em movin’. You don’t have a rope, so twist a stick off a tree to poke ‘em with, or use your foot. They’ll follow this critter, once he’s going down the trail.”
“Is he the leader? The spotted one?” She gestured toward Clay’s steer.
“Yep.” Satisfied with his efforts with the first steer, he started in the direction of another, then wheeled his mount and returned to Marie’s side. “Do you want me to get you a stick?”
“Might as well,” she answered, heading toward a brown animal. “Could be my feet won’t work as well, bein’ smaller’n yours, by far.”
Clay twisted a branch off a nearby willow and stripped off the leaves with his pocket knife. He brought it over to her, and gave it to her with a smirk. “It’s going to bend a bit, but should serve the purpose.”
“You think this will serve?” she exclaimed, bowing the branch nearly double.
“Whip ‘em on the rear, if they won’t get movin’ fast enough,” he said, laughing.
“Oh bother,” she said, and shrugged her shoulders. “Men and boys will be the ruination of me yet!”
“We’re meant to torment the female of the species,” Clay said, and rode off to his position.
“You do a right good job of it,” she mumbled, and used the willow slip to good effect.
~~~
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Saturday, September 22, 2012

Sweet Saturday Sample - September 22, 2012

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. This scene from Spinster's Folly shows a pivotal moment in the story. I hope you enjoy it.
~~~


Marie dished up a plate of food for her mother and then one for herself, and found a seat against a tree. She was just biting into a chicken leg when Mr. Thorne spread a handkerchief on the ground and sat beside her, his face crestfallen. Her brow furrowed. He’d caught her with her mouth full.

“My darling,” he whispered, looking around furtively. “My sweet Marie. I am gratified that you are well. However, I cannot believe what your father said. You are marrying that farm boy?” He gulped convulsively. “I had such hopes of a future with you.”

Marie choked. Thorne gently patted her on the back until she recovered. She drew a deep breath, and finding her voice unimpaired by the passage of the chicken, said, “I won’t marry him. Pa has put me in an impossible situation.” She lowered her voice and hung her head. “I own a mite of fault in the matter. I pressed Pa to think about my need for prospects.”

Thorne screwed up his face in obvious agony. “What will you do, my darling? The wedding has been announced. The farmer’s parents will expect—”

“I don’t know, but I can’t marry him. He’s vile.”

Thorne sat back.

Marie stole a look in his direction. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. She waited.

“It was he you were fleeing. It was he who caused you grief.” He paused again, then said with some heat, “That simply will not do, my darling. It will not do!”

Marie shivered. No light dawned to brighten her path. Without a doubt Pa would bring pressure on her to fulfill his commitment to the Morgans. Her head began to ache again.

“Oh,” said Mr. Thorne, a long sighing vowel. “I have it, my dear. A plan.”

Marie hardly dared breathe, waiting for him to enlighten her.

“We will go away. We will ride to Denver and be married there. I have a lovely home in the foothills.” He spoke rapidly, breathing hard. “My dear aunt died recently and left me the house. There will be quite a bit of money, by and by. We will be well situated, my love.” He took her hand. “Say you will do it. Say you will come away with me!”

Marie’s breath was shaky as she inhaled. She hardly knew this man, but he seemed to be over the moon in love with her. Surely this was her salvation. She would not need to marry Tom if she went away with Mr. Thorne.

She looked at him closely. He was well groomed. There were no bits of food in his moustache. His clothing was clean and well kept. His fingernails were trimmed and clean. His breath was sweet. His hands were soft and gentle, and not at all sweaty. She remembered that merely being in his presence often caused her bones to melt. Surely that was a sign she loved him.

She let out the breath. “Yes,” she said. “When can we leave?”

Thorne looked around again. Then his gaze returned and he lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “Tonight. We will make our escape when everyone is asleep.” His face looked pained for an instant, then it cleared as he obviously made an effort to shake off a doubt.

“What’s amiss, dear Mr. Thorne?” Her voice shook as she tried out the endearment.

“I am ashamed to say that I have no money for our expenses. I was foolish and played poker with the Dominguez boys. They are sharper players than I.” He looked down.

“Pa has a bit of money.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified that those words had escaped her lips.

Mr. Thorne gently removed her hand and patted it between his. “That is a fortunate happenstance. You can bring it along tonight.”

“I cannot simply take it.” Marie’s head swam at the thought of stealing the remaining gold dust in Uncle Jonathan’s box.

Mr. Thorne’s chin came up. His eyes narrowed. “Does not your father owe you a dower price?”

The words hung in the air between them for a long moment.

Marie thought of all the grief she’d had to bear in the last year. She thought of her father’s lack of concern for her needs. She thought of the pain of becoming a woman without a future. She thought of Jule’s taunting words and scandalous behavior.

“Yes,” she said in a burst of emotion. “He does, and much more. He owes me respect, and he doesn’t give me any.”

Thorne shook his head. “A dowry doesn’t make up for a father’s lack of affection, but it goes a long way in soothing hurt feelings.”

Marie began to protest, but Thorne shushed her with a lingering kiss, hidden behind his hat.

“We haven’t more time to plan. Put a bundle together, bring food and cooking tools, and get the money. Meet me at that lightning-struck oak on the north side of the clearing at ten o’clock. Bring a good horse.” He finished his instructions and rose easily to his feet, bending down to retrieve his handkerchief. “Until then, my sweet Marie.” He gave her a wistful look, gently squeezed her hand, and left.

When Mr. Thorne had gone, Marie’s head swirled with details, the warmth of his kiss spreading through her body. This is right, she thought. He loves me. He will treat me gently. Yes, this is the right thing to do.


~~~
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use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Doing Research--Backwards

Yeah, it could be that kind of backwards, as in "Why do I have to do all this silly research? I write fiction, don't I? Can't I make it up?"

But I mean the kind of backwards that refers to what is seemingly a back-to-front process. In other words, I have to gain facts from a later time with a view towards an earlier time. Here's the circumstance that puts me in that sort of process.

As I finish the final tweeks on my current WIP, Spinster's Folly, I am also doing research for the next book in the Owen Family Saga, Gone for a Soldier. The storyline occurs mainly in the point-of-view of the oldest son of the family, Rulon, during the American Civil War. I have stated in a previous novel in the series that Rulon was wounded in a particular place at a particular time. Now, my job in the new book is to get him from his enlistment to that battle.


So? You write fiction. Make it up!

Not so fast, Grasshopper. I write historical fiction, especially in this book. Do you know how many millions of American Civil War buffs, historians, and aficionados there are?

Many. Many-many. A whole lot of many.

If I get my facts wrong, I'm going to be the laughingstock of all those millions of readers, who KNOW THEIR STUFF.

I have to get Rulon into a unit that will actually be engaged in the battle in which he is wounded. I have to find the kind of encounter that would give him the type of wounds I've already said that he suffered, which are from shrapnel, or exploding shell fragments. I can't simply stick him into some cavalry unit or other that had skirmishes with other cavalry units (or a cavalry unit that captured cattle during a daring raid on Union resources).


  • He has to be in a unit that took bombardment from Union artillery.
  • He has to be in a unit that was formed in his area of Virginia.
  • He has to be in a unit that survived to serve in the battle.

Civil War Units from Virginia

The above specifications sort of point toward "Infantry," so although Rulon is a fine horseman, he's going to join a unit of foot soldiers "raised" or recruited in the Shenandoah Valley.

Three units from the Shenandoah Valley

I previously wrote that Rulon was wounded at Petersburg, Virginia. However, Petersburg was not a single battle. It is often called "The Siege of Petersburg," but it wasn't a classic siege. It was a ten-month series of battles, encounters, skirmishes, cattle raids, starvation, yes, siege conditions, and a lot of sitting around, waiting for something to happen. It covered a large area, not one city. There are several opportunities during that campaign for Rulon to receive his wounds.

Federal offensives during the Petersburg campaign, 1864-65


Due to calamitous casualties or military reorganization, some Confederate units didn't get as far along in the war as I need Rulon to be. Therefore, among other things, I have to become an expert on the configuration of the Confederate military, from the end to the beginning. Rulon must be in the correct unit from the start.

Example: Combatant Units at Gettysburg

Now you see the research task I have before me, and a great deal depends on doing it backwards. I'm not helpless, though. I have my resources:

Primary sources: Eyewitnesses

Accounts from eyewitnesses, both private soldiers

General James Longstreet's account

and general officers

Works by Noted Historians

Histories of the Civil War by eminent historians

Overviews and Maps

Overviews of the war and collaborative works, plus maps

Dynamics between the leaders

Many of the Civil War leaders on opposing sides graduated from West Point Military Academy in the same class, and gained strategic and tactical battle experience in the War with Mexico.

Information on specific battles and campaigns

With good information on specific battles and campaigns, I can place my characters in situations that will seem very real to my readers.

Remember, this war went on for several years: 1861-1865. The lengthy time involved has the potential to give a lot of richness to the forthcoming novel.

Pictorial presentations of the scenes of the War

The American Civil War was the first conflict in which the common civilian learned about real war--not from glorious schoolroom prints depicting famous battles of the past, but from illustrations made by newspaper illustrators on the scene; and from photographs taken by those who worked for Mathew Brady, and independent photographers.

You can tell that I've already done considerable research, and spent a great deal of money (including expenses for my recent two-week research trip), but I have more work to do before I'm finished.

Wish me luck!



Saturday, September 15, 2012

Marie Owen visits me again

* Way back in 2009, some of my characters began to visit me, and I published accounts of those chats here. In fact, that was the reason I began this blog in the first place, as a location for me to write up those visits. First, some of the Owen boys came by, having slipped under the rainbow during a storm. We had a nice visit. Then their sister Marie knocked on the door in August, encouraging me to begin the book that would help her move on with her life. That, of course, is my forthcoming novel, Spinster's Folly. I guess she came by to check on the progress, because even though I've moved since her visit, she found me. It was after nightfall when I heard footsteps outside on the ramp up to my deck, and after a moment or two, I heard a rapping on the door. When I opened it, my security light came on and I knew Marie instantly, but I didn't know her clothing. It was nothing like what she'd worn before.

ME (flabbergasted to see her): Darling Marie! Come in, come in!

MARIE (Hiding her eyes from the bright light with her hand, then peering over her shoulder.): I have to hurry. I can't stay long.

ME: Whyever not? Let me just move these books off the chair. Sit down. What can I get you to eat or drink? (I move a pile of Civil War reference books onto the floor.)

MARIE (Moving hesitantly into the room, her hand still in front of her eyes.): I can't be gone long. He'll find out.

ME: Sit down, dear. (I feel my brow furrowing.) Who is "he"? You seem frightened.

(MARIE finally lowers her hand. We're both still standing.): Truth to tell, I am frightened, more than I've ever been.

ME (Gasping as I digest the fact that her face is mottled and colored with bruises.): What happened? Who's been beating you? Not your Pa!

MARIE: No, not Pa. He would never--

ME (Grabbing hold of her arms.): Who did this? He won't get away with it!

MARIE (Face crumpling.): I thought he loved me.

ME (Mumbling strong words under my breath.): I'll get a cold cloth.

MARIE: No. I can bear the pain a tad bit longer, if you'll just finish my book.

ME (Closing my mouth that's fallen open from amazement.): (Silence.)

MARIE: Please. (Her voice quivers, on the verge of losing control.)

ME: I'm-- I'm doing a final edit. It won't take lo--

MARIE: Now! You've got to publish it as soon as may be!

ME (Sinking into my chair.): Or . . . ?

MARIE: I'm obliged to stay in his power until folks can read the words. He won't release me until then. (She collapses into the chair beside mine.)

ME (My mouth is gaping open again. I close it with difficulty, knowing who "he" is, and what she's been through.)

MARIE: Please, Mom! (She's sobbing hysterically.)

ME (Shaken): I had no idea. I-- Some folks have read it. At least they've read the first draft. They said lovely things about it.

MARIE (Looking at me through teary eyes.): That must account for how I was able to get away for a spell. (She sniffs, somewhat less bereft.)

ME (Digging out a tissue and handing it to her. On second thought, I give her the entire box.): I'll get a hold of Linda on Monday. Tuesday at the latest.

MARIE: Who is Linda? (She blows her nose and drops the tissue into the waste basket beside her chair.)

ME: She's the very helpful lady who will arrange my words all pretty for the inside of the book. Can you hold out until she's finished with it?

MARIE (Blowing her nose again.): I'll venture to do it, Mom. Ask her to hurry, please.

ME: You hang on! I'll get a hold of Deirdra and we'll figure out what to put on the back cover, too.

MARIE (Brightening a bit.): Some of them lovely things the folks said?

ME: You may be sure of that!

MARIE (Letting out a gusty sigh and dabbing at her eyes.): It won't take long?

ME: Oh sweetie, we'll go as fast as we can! I promise you, as soon as Spinster's Folly is published, he won't be a-worryin' you no more.

MARIE (Slightly chuckling.): You sound like Ma. (Sniffs)

ME: You'll see her soon. It will be a favorable reunion. I promise.

MARIE: It makes my heart glad to hear that. (She suddenly turns her face toward the door.) Did you hear that? I'm obliged to leave! (She gets up and kisses me on the cheek.) Mind you, hurry! (She's out of my arms, out the door, and running off my deck before I can move a muscle.)

ME (My shoulders slump.): Oh my gosh! (I try to get my mind around the idea that characters remain in dire situations until their books are published. I turn to the laptop.) Oh my gosh. (I look at the words swimming before me.) I promise you won't be in pain very long. (My voice is hushed. I had no idea!)



*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own place and era. To order autographed copies of my novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, and Trail of Storms, visit my website at marshaward.com.

Sweet Saturday Samples - September 15, 2012

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. The list of participant author's blogs may be temporarily at this site. Use it if the first one does not work for you. Thank you.

The sample below from Spinster's Folly is a short scene showing Bill Henry again, as he agonizes over something that has happened to Marie at the barn-raising. I hope you enjoy it.
~~~

Bill watched Tom descend from the wagon. The farmer glanced around the crowd, and when he had found Bill, he locked eyes with him. He stalked closer, and as soon as he had his face up next to Bill's, he growled, "You keep away from my woman. You ain't got any claim on her, filthy cowhand."

He wanted to deck the man, but balled his fists tightly at his sides instead, to keep from flinging himself into a fight. Brawling wouldn't help Miss Marie, and it might upset her if she came to herself to hear a ruckus going on. He compressed his lips over clenched teeth.


Tom, evidently thinking him a coward, made a derisive noise, roughly barged into Bill's shoulder as he passed him, and started off through the crowd.


He let him go on his way without a word, but moved up toward the wagon again, kneading his arm to release the pain. It was much less than the pain in his heart, knowing Marie was lost to him, but neither one could match the anxiety he felt for her welfare now. He reached the wagon and saw that Marie lay—still and pale—on the floor of the wagon box. A wash of nausea attacked his stomach. Then he saw that her chest moved slightly, and he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. She lived!


Mrs. Owen sat herself beside Marie and gently lifted the girl's head into her lap, talking softly to her all the while. She pulled a small vial from her apron pocket, unstoppered it, and held it in front of Marie's nose.


After a short pause, the girl reacted, pulling away from the strong odor of ammonia that he could smell from where he was standing. Marie's hand came up, futilely batting at the vial.


"There now, easy, girl. Come back to us," Mrs. Owen crooned.


Marie opened her eyes and said, "Ma?"


Bill's heart stopped beating for a moment, then lurched back into rhythm. She knew her mother. Mayhap she would recover.

~~~

Thank you for visiting. Come back next Saturday for another sample. Click on one or the other of the links above to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Saturday, September 08, 2012

Sweet Saturday Samples - September 8, 2012

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. I've been gone for a spell, on a research road trip. The morsel from Spinster's Folly below is a short scene showing Bill Henry's interaction with some of the folks he's in contact with at the barn-raising. I hope you enjoy it.
~~~

Bill hadn't seen Marie all morning. The fact that he'd been busy lifting logs and pegging them into place hadn't kept his eyes from scanning the female figures that brought water to the crew. Not one had the dark, waving hair, the winsome smile, the light step of Marie. Not one made his heart swell in his chest. Not one made him ache to converse with her, to touch her arm. Where was she keeping herself?

"Henry!" Mr. Owen bellowed.


Bill looked down at the boss standing at the foot of the ladder and waving for him to descend.


"Yes, sir?"


"Come down."


He went down. Once on the ground, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve. "Yes, sir?"


"Where's that bale of leather thongs you had Carl cut?"


"I wrapped them strings in a piece of holey hide and put ‘em on a shelf in the stable. Want me to fetch ‘em?"


"No, I'll send Albert. Return to your work up there."


Bill swept his hair back with his fingers and put his hat on his head. He nodded, climbed to his previous position, and grasped the log that was being levered atop the last. He got it on his shoulder and heaved. He still hadn't seen Marie.


The man next to him grunted and swore as he dropped his end of the log onto his own fingers.


"Careful," Bill said automatically.


The man swore again, berating Bill for not catching the log when he had dropped it.


"Beg pardon, friend. I'll do better next time." He gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to know when a man was going to fumble his load?


Although his neighbor groused for quite a spell, Bill tried to ignore the man and deal with the unfamiliar work. Give him adobe blocks for a building material any day. This business of constructing with logs was out of his experience.


~~~
Thank you for visiting. Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

I Took a Vacation from Writing

For two weeks in August, I had the immense pleasure of facilitating a trip for myself and my sister-in-law so that we could get back east to visit elderly aunts and contemporary cousins, and to search out local cemetery and library records for ancestral lines of my husband's side. It was a road trip of epic proportions, including five hours stuck in a parking-lot-on-the-highway situation in the Shenandoah Valley, due to a haz-mat accident earlier in the day.

I had been feeling the same urgency my SIL had been experiencing, that we needed to take this trip now. My only conditions were to be able to visit a couple of places in Virginia for my own research needs for the next novel in the Owen Family Saga.


Union cannon at Gettysburg Military Park. Marsha Ward photo.

Due to time constraints, we weren't able to see as much as I had wanted, but we got to enough places, and I now have a real sense of the locations and conditions to suit my purposes.

Our record gathering on the genealogy side was quite successful, and we met people who were willing to help us in any way we needed. We also met a couple who were researching one of the same ancestral lines, and who are willing to obtain necessary courthouse records for us.

We found a cemetery that long-time residents of the town didn't know a location for. There we found the grave marker of the first ancestor on the Ward line to come to America. What a thrill that was! We still wonder what his middle initial "M" stands for, but we know we'll find out some day.


Peter M. Ward grave marker, Sacred Heart Catholic Cemetery, Pomeroy, OH. Death year is wrong, according to newspaper account of his death the following year. Marsha Ward photo.

After an exhausting walk all over a large cemetery in the Pittsburgh area trying to find Su's grandparents, she made a few phone calls to several of the aunts. Then, with new information in hand, she told the driver-cousin to stop the van so she could search a new portion of the cemetery, opened the door, and stepped out onto the very grave markers we had been seeking for two or three hours.


A triumphant Su Ward, after finding and cleaning her grandfather's grave marker at the William Penn Cemetery in the Pittsburgh, PA area. Marsha Ward photo.


A day trip to another town turned into a two-day stay, where we met the aforementioned couple and gleaned vast numbers of records that can't be found online.

Due to many things I had to accomplish before I left, I felt I wasn't as prepared for this trip as I could have been. I didn't take my own copy of genealogical records that would have primed me better for the searches we made. I took the wrong computer for Internet communications on the road. However, I did take the right one for recording the records and information we gathered, since I actually had a genealogy program loaded on it, and found a file with some of the records I needed to tie in with the new information. I also happened to grab a keypad add-on that I'd bought a while ago but never used, and it really helped with inputting all the dates.

Did I get to work on editing my novel while I was gone? No. Will it put my publication schedule behind? Maybe. What was of more importance to me was that I got to see relatives I hadn't seen in fifteen years, and gathered vital information on family members I'll meet someday on the Other Side. That made my Vacation from Writing well worth it to me.
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