Saturday, August 31, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - August 31, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen difficulties, the list and link to it will not be available for a while. I hope our hostess soon gets to a place where she can do it again. I will continue to provide a sample each Saturday.

In this tidbit, Mary Owen deals with an early visitor to her father's store.
~~~

On the 19th of August, Mary had conquered her stomach enough to show up for work in good time, and was removing the dustcloths covering the goods set up in the windows when she heard a tap on the front door. She looked out the glass pane to discover Miss Ella Ruth Allen outside, an anxious expression on her face.

Mary unlocked the door and opened it a crack.


"We have not yet begun the day," she said after giving her a brief greeting.


"Please, won't you admit me? Father is on his way to the courthouse and agreed to let me come to buy a trifle if I didn't delay him but five minutes. I haven't a moment to spare. Please?"


The young woman's use of the word 'please' twice impressed Mary as to the urgency of her errand, and she bade her enter. "What trifle did you have in mind to buy?" she asked, turning to the wares.


Ella Ruth raised her shoulders, evidently in a protective motion. "That was a subterfuge," she finally said. "I came for news of Benjamin. Do you have any word? An address where I might write him?"


Mary studied the pinched face, and put out her hand to lay it on Ella Ruth's. "You must compose yourself," she said.


Ella Ruth's face blanched. "Ah! He is gone?" she wailed.


"No. No, no. I merely mean that Mother Owen has not heard from him as yet. However, you may take comfort that his name has not been published on a list."


Ella Ruth sighed raggedly. "Thank you for your kindness."

~~~

Thank you for visiting. I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I eventually read what you write and will reply, if needed. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Please come back next Saturday for another sample. Thank you!

Monday, August 26, 2013

Writing Echoes

In writing, there are two kinds of echoes. One is clumsy writing, but the other is awesome.

The "frowned on" kind of echoes are repeated words or phrases. Sometimes they are clichés. Sometimes they are simply overused. Do you refer to a "wild woman" or a "just recompense" too many times in your work? How about that word "just"? Is it a pet? Can you eliminate it three-quarters of the time?

Like that.

The other echo is a more ghostly and resonant kind, something that is spread out a lot farther, perhaps over a body of work, like a novel series. It is a sometimes unintentional, but uncanny bit of writing that reminds me of my very closely-held theory of the origin of ideas.

I have come to agree with the saying, "there are no coincidences," especially when I make discoveries of echoes in my body of work. Last week I was editing a scene in my current work-in-progress, Gone For a Soldier, when I realized that Rulon Owen had acquired a certain skill set in that time that was echoed in Spinster's Folly. Was I led to choose a certain odd job for him to perform when he needed to earn a couple of bucks? Perhaps.

Continuing my editing brought me to the discovery of a second echo. Does anyone remember the name of Hannah Bingham's husband in Trail of Storms? Yeah, Robert Fletcher. As I wrote a scene a few months ago, I needed a throw-away name for a tavern. What did I use? Fletcher's. I didn't even realize I had written down that name until I edited the scene.

Coincidence? I think not.

We can lay echoes in deliberately, of course. A line or two in Gone For a Soldier establishes the root of the reputation James Owen enjoys as a good horseman in later novels. It's a very little thing, but it adds depth to the overall story.

Whether this type of echo in writing comes from pure inspiration, happenstance, or deliberation, it can resonate with the reader and bring them back for more rich writing.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - August 24, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. In this week's sample, I'm including the names of a couple of real people who lived around Mount Jackson during the era of the Civil War. While what Dr. Meem says about his hospital post and the land donation truly happened, this conversation did not. It is used only to enhance the storyline of Gone For a Soldier
~~~

One Sunday after church services, the Hilbrands family was surprised by an afternoon visit from Dr. Meem, a prominent physician in the area. He asked to speak with Mrs. Owen, and Mary agreed to entertain him in the parlor.

"We are most honored by your visit," Mrs. Hilbrands said, and turned to lead the way into the room.


"Mama," Mary said so low that the visitor could not hear. "He wishes to speak to me."


"Nonsense," retorted her mother in the same fashion. "You cannot be alone with the man."


And so, Dr. Meem sat down to converse with the two ladies of the house, senior and junior.


As soon as he had been made comfortable with a bit of refreshment, the doctor put down his cup and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Owen, I have been appointed as director of a new soldier's hospital that is to be built upon land donated by Colonel Rinker. We will have a need for ladies from Mount Jackson to lend a hand with some of the tasks suited to their station and nature. Your name has been presented as one who might wish to give such service, since you have a husband, I believe, at the front serving his country?"


Mary bent her head, basking for a moment in the recognition of her married state and of Rulon's sacrifice. At last she smiled and lifted her eyes to give the doctor her assent, but her mother's voice cut across her train of thought.


"Certainly not. My daughter is in a delicate condition. It is not fitting for her to be among those of the opposite gender while she is, um, that is, while she remains, um, so indisposed."


"Mama! I am perfectly able to nurse the poor men who have given so much to our country. When will the buildin' of the hospital be finished, Doctor?"


"Next spring, madam. It will--"


"I forbid it, daughter. Think of the odors, the contagion. You can scarcely hold food upon your stomach as it is."


"I am told that the sickness will go away soon, Mama. I will manage."


"No." She gave Mary a stern look, then turned to the doctor and said, "My daughter is unwell on many days. I am sure you will understand, Dr. Meem. She cannot help you." She arose. "Good day to you, sir."


While Mrs. Hilbrands showed the unhappy doctor to the door, Mary could hardly hold her temper in check. She stood beside her chair in the parlor, quivering with indignation that the decision had been so rudely taken from her power. When it was clear that her mother would not be returning, Mary went after her.


"How dare you speak for me?" she said, almost overcome with rage. "That was unconscionable. Mr. Owen would want me to help in any way possible."


"You forget yourself, Mary. You live in my house, under my roof and your father's protection. That husband of yours has no concern in the matters of my household. He was happy enough to leave you in my care, and I shall do as I see fit to keep you safe." She took a step away, then turned and threw a cruel thought over her shoulder. "He is young and reckless. You cannot trust him. He is likely going to take up with the sort of women who follow the soldier camps."


Mary dug her fingernails into her hands and bit the inside of her cheek until it bled. She would not faint or carry on for her mother's benefit. She watched her go, with a bleak question sitting in the pit of her stomach. What if what Mama said was true?

~~~

Thank you for visiting. I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I eventually read what you write and will reply, if needed. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Please use this list to find other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors participating in our weekly blog hop enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - August 17, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples.  

In this snippet from my American Civil War era work-in-progress, Gone For a Soldier, Rulon Owen is in the midst of one of the harshest realities of that great conflict: illness.
~~~

After two days in the hospital tent, and several draughts a day of quinine mixed in water, Rulon still hadn't shaken off the chills and fever. His jaw ached, and now his ear was beginning to ring as though a troop of spur-jingling cavalry kept passing through his head. Worse still, he hadn't mustered the strength to read Mary's letter.

Feeling like a mewling new-born calf, Rulon struggled to sit up, determined that he would open the envelope at the very least. Once that was accomplished, perhaps it would be easy to read out the words she'd sent him.


When he had worked the flap loose, he saw that the letter was three weeks old, dated on the 12th of July. The first line told him Mary had confirmed her hopes that she was carrying his child. Joy surged through him, momentarily giving him the strength to sit longer and finish the letter. Further down the page, his heart lurched with additional gladness as he read that she was sure the child would be a boy. How could she know that, he wondered? He supposed her assurance came because he had so strongly and repeatedly expressed his wish for a son. She believed it because he wanted it. Dear sweet Mary.


Exhausted from the effort of reading the letter, Rulon lay back on his cot, his eyes wet from the emotion. Yes, he had said he wanted a son. He didn't know much about babies and how they formed in the mother's womb, but he imagined the outcome was fixed now. Son or daughter, it really didn't matter. Sometime early next year, he would be a father.


"God, let me live to see my child," he whispered. "Don't let me died in camp because of the mumps."

~~~

Thank you for visiting. I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I eventually read what you write and will reply, if needed. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Please use this list to find other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors participating in our weekly blog hop enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Ella Ruth is Contrite *

After working in a hot office all afternoon, I sat with my front door open and a fan circulating the cooler outside air as I caught up on recorded reruns of The Closer. When my security light went on, I looked over to see if a deer was crossing my lot, but nothing was apparent, so I went back to the episode.

A few moments later, a movement caught my eye, and I glanced over to see the figure of a young woman standing in the light. She was dressed in an outfit with a long, bell-shaped skirt, so I knew immediately that one of my characters had come to visit.

Turning off the TV, I approach the door. The blonde girl with the anguished features appears to be Ella Ruth Allen, whom I had chased away previously after her outrageous behavior toward me. I'm not sure I want her in my house again, so I hesitate before greeting her. After a long moment, I succumb to Christian principles and speak.

Me: Yes? (I know. A bit short, but at least I sound half-way civil.)

Ella Ruth (in a shaky voice): Ma'am. I know I behaved badly on our previous acquaintance, and I am sorry for my ill-mannered comportment. May I come in? I am so worried.

Me (unlocking and opening the screen door): Worried? With a rich, influential pappa?

I perform the usual ceremonies of getting her seated and asking if she requires anything to eat as she dithers, making polite replies and little gasping noises. I understand the mental electrical storm that creates a condition of dithering, and become more kindly disposed toward her.

Me: What brings you to my door, Miss Ella Ruth?

Ella Ruth: Benjamin. (She begins to cry, and I bring out the box of tissue and hand it over. She wipes her eyes and begins to rush through a blubbering account.) He gave me an ultimatum and I rejected him. I did not think he was seriously planning to talk to my pappa so plainly and dash my dreams so rudely. I said some unkind words and turned on my heel and left him. Then he left me!

Her wail of distress seems genuine enough. I dredge through my memory, and recall that when Ben came to visit me, I had not finished writing the scene that occurred behind the mill. I did so later. The scene had indeed progressed as she outlined.

Me: Well. That is unfortunate. What does he write to you?

Ella Ruth: Ma'am, he does not write. Not a word. I do not know if he has been in a battle, or injured, or fallen prey to illness, like I hear other men have. He went in my own cousin's infantry company, but I hear nothing from George, either. Please ma'am, what am I to do?

Me (somewhat flummoxed): What are you to do? What do you want from him?

Ella Ruth: Oh ma'am, I want to know that he is well and sound. I bear him such a great deal of affection. My heart is sunk low to know that we parted on unfriendly terms.

Me: It sounds like you need to re-establish a connection with him. Have you asked his mother for news?

Ella Ruth (uncertainly): Mrs. Owen? Mrs. Julia Owen?

Me: The very one. If anyone has heard from Ben, it will be her.

Ella Ruth: Oh ma'am, she will not bear kindness toward me. I am sure of it.

Me: Then you have already approached her?

Ella Ruth (in a tiny voice): No. Ma'am. I am frightened of her.

Me: You're frightened by the kindest woman in the Valley?

Ella Ruth: She is formidable, ma'am.

Me: No she isn't. I've written her as a kind, giving soul. She is really very pleasant, very easy to know.

Ella Ruth: She will heed Ben's plight before my own, ma'am.

Me (feeling the disbelieving expression on my face): You really should talk to her, Miss Allen. Straight out.

Ella Ruth: May I not approach the new Missus Owen? The new bride at Hilbrands' store?

Me: Mistress Mary? What does she have to do with this?

Ella Ruth: Perhaps she will be amenable to asking Mrs. Owen for news of Benjamin.

Me (sighing): That way is quite roundabout, Miss Allen. I see that is your plan, however. Suit yourself. Ask Mary for help. You can only hope her happiness will color her response to you.

Ella Ruth: Her response?

Me: New brides often wish to share their happiness and help others achieve some for themselves, as well. You might find yourself fortunate. It just seems like such an involved and convoluted way of gaining news about Ben.

Ella Ruth: Miss, um, Mistress Mary is closer in age to me. I believe I can talk to her, persuade her to help me.

Me (rising and spreading my hands in acceptance): Like I said, suit yourself. Good evening, Miss Allen.

She leaves, and a bolt of lightning sears the sky. I wait for the thunder, but it rumbles in the distance, and I go back to my television watching, a tense feeling squeezing my abdomen. What will come of Ella Ruth's plan?

Copyright © 2013 Marsha Ward

*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 time and place. To order autographed copies of my novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and Spinster's Folly, visit my website at marshaward.com or Westward Books.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - August 10, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. In this snippet from my American Civil War era work-in-progress, Gone For a Soldier, Rulon Owen experiences one of the vicissitudes of war. Enjoy!

Orders had come down from General Johnston's headquarters to keep eyes on the enemy army led by General Patterson that had invaded the Valley. For the last few days, Rulon's company had been engaged in riding in countermoves against their troops.

Near Winchester, a patrol became a skirmish when they encountered enemy soldiers willing to fight.


As he hunkered down in a ditch alongside Owen Leoyd while artillery shells explored the air above them, he was told, "Them shells always whistle that-a-way when they miss you. If you don't hear 'em, they're gonna get you, so bless the sound of 'em."


"Obliged for the advice," Rulon shouted back, covering his head at the sound of a particularly close whistle.


"We'd best leave here," Leoyd commented. "That was a mite too near for my taste."


During a brief lull in the fire, they beat a retreat to their horses, and found the rest of their comrades to continue the clash.

~~~

Thank you for visiting. I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I eventually read what you write and will reply, if needed. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Please refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work. Also take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider subscribing to my mailing list so you will receive my quarterly newsletter. It contains news about me, book signings, places I'll be making special appearances, book news, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to find other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors participating in our weekly blog hop enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!

Saturday, August 03, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - August 3, 2013

Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. In this snippet from my American Civil War era work-in-progress, Gone For a Soldier, Mary Hilbrands is trying to get the dress finished for her fast-approaching wedding, and her sister, Ida, is helping her along - or not.
~~~


Mary sat in a small room off the kitchen, where light from the sun illuminated the purple fabric in her lap. The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she concentrated on taking small stitches to join two pieces of the material together. Her sister Ida sat across her, sewing a seam into another two pieces of fabric.

"This is such tedious work," Ida said with a sigh. "Why can't Papa buy us one of those sewing machines?" She batted at the golden curls laying against her neck. "It is so warm today."


"Those machines are too expensive, Ida. Papa cannot afford to buy us one." Mary bent over to bite off the end of a thread. "Besides, he cannot procure one soon enough. You know I have a limited amount of time to finish my dress. Keep stitching."


Ida took one stitch, then stopped to ask, "Why is Papa allowing you to marry? You're not even fifteen yet. Mama wants you to wait until this war is over."


"That is my affair. Mama already agreed that I can wed, and there isn't any time to spare. If you don't want to help me with this skirt, go see if India brought home the lard for my cakes."


Ida put her work in her lap. "I think your beau is selfish. He is going off to war, but first, he wants to get married and do those things to you, those things Papa does to Mama."

~~~

Uh-oh! Can of worms time.

Thank you for visiting. I love to read your comments, so if anything in the sample compels you to speak up, rest assured that I eventually read what you write and will reply, if needed. Questions? I'm open to them, too.

Please refer to the Buy Links Page above for locations to purchase any of my work. Also take note of the "Newsletter" tab above. Do consider subscribing to my mailing list so you will receive my quarterly newsletter. It contains news about me, book signings, places I'll be making special appearances, book news, links to original material, and special offers.

Come back next Saturday for another sample. Now, use this list to find other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors participating in our weekly blog hop enjoy comments as much as I do, so please don't be shy. Thank you!


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