Showing posts with label America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label America. Show all posts

December 08, 2015

Maureen Willett's Near the Wild - Excerpt


Somewhere in the haze of trying to reach the elusive man with black hair and blue-green eyes, I heard a distant sound. At first, it seemed to be just a part of my nonsensical dreams, but the sound got louder until it crept into my consciousness. I sat up and blinked the sleep from my eyes, wondering what was happening. Everyone was racing toward the stairs like stampeding cattle. I shook my head to get the fog out, and threw off the covers. I had to be there to catch the first glimpse with everyone else. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around my cotton nightgown, throwing modesty and propriety aside.

I ran to the upper deck in anticipation and searched for a spot to look over the rail. There were too many people and no room. I looked around for a MacKeighry, but they had all been swallowed by the frenetic crowd at the rails. I spotted an empty barrel by one of the mastheads, so I climbed on top of it to peer over heads, not caring that my blanket had fallen somewhere on deck. No one cared. I was not the only half-clad person caught up in the excitement.

What was before me was greatly unexpected. The land stretched out farther than the eye could see, but it held an odd, brownish hue. I sighed in disappointment. There were no emerald fields, as I had been accustomed to at home. I had never seen such dull landscape. Even the ancient town where we embarked on the ship in France had been prettier than this. Everyone onboard shouted and applauded, happy to be in this vast, new country, but I didn’t join in the revelry. This new land, no matter how promising, meant the end of my relationship with Finn, and, therefore, the end of all happiness.

As we made our way into the New Orleans harbor, there were tall weeds along the marshy land, and a boy ran along on shore, waving to our ship. I’d never seen a person with such exotic skin. It was the color of milk chocolate, and his eyes were big, brown saucers. His white smile showed missing teeth. Behind him was a dilapidated house that was probably once magnificent but now was overgrown with weeds and thick vines. Half of it had been burned. Faint whispers of a way of life before the Civil War came through with the breeze, but they were nothing more than old, unspoken secrets of days gone. The thick air felt almost menacing. There was something else in the air, too. This place was filled with mystery, and I was intrigued, in spite of longing for Ireland and Finn.

As the Belle Asisse got closer to the harbor, the water became murky brown from the runoff of the bustling harbor. And the buildings got bigger, although they appeared to be thrown together with a piece of plywood and some bricks. Everywhere people, mostly men, ran around, carrying various goods to load ships. The site swirled before my eyes. I started to fall off the barrel. Then everything went black.

###

All I could see through the fog in my head was a pair of seawater-colored eyes. They seemed to be watching over me. I wanted to reach up to the face that held those eyes, but I didn’t have the strength. It would be such comfort to feel his cheek upon mine. Noises all around scratched at my brain. Every time the blackness threatened to engulf me, he’d shake me until my head cleared somewhat. It was infuriating! All I wanted was the deep, endless sleep, but he wouldn’t let it happen.

“Please, leave me alone,” I cried, but my voice didn’t come out correctly, and no one heard me.

###

There was light overhead, a blinding, scorching light. My head felt heavy and achy.

I didn’t know how long I had been delirious, although later I’d hear that it had been a few days. Just when I felt too weak, and the darkness came close to overtaking me, I awoke. The buzzing of a fly near my ear helped me focus on something tangible while I looked around at my new surroundings. I swatted the fly away, then sat up and blinked.

The bright sunlight shined through white sheets draped over a few carefully placed logs of wood. They were actually big twigs, I realized as I looked around the makeshift tent. I was on a cot, dressed in my linen nightgown with only a sheet to cover me. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck. I tried to swallow but had no luck with a throat so dry. I carefully put my feet on the ground.

“Maeve, darling,” Ma said as she came into the tent. She grabbed me just as I was about to fall on my face. “You’re awake! Oh, thank the Lord!” She hugged me for a moment and then helped me back to the cot.

“What happened?” I managed to ask between cracked lips.

She put her hand to my forehead and smiled. “We’re not really sure. You suddenly fell ill, but you didn’t have a fever, so I had hope. You were in a deep sleep and didn’t want to come out of it. Perhaps a touch of influenza.” Her beautiful face turned to a worried frown. “But it doesn’t matter now. You’re awake.”

It hadn’t been the flu, but I didn’t want to tell Ma that. My body, and my spirit, had rebelled at this new life, this new set of rules restricting me from seeing Finn. Quite simply, my body had gone through withdrawal. Finn had once warned me that humans could inhale radiant dust by being around someone like him regularly, and that could lead to hallucinations and, even, madness. He’d also warned that I’d have to go through an illness to get over my physical addiction if we were ever parted. But I’d never believed him. Until now.

I wondered if waking up meant I wouldn’t miss him so much.

I looked around the small tent, seeing our things and travel cases piled high between blankets on the ground. I was on the only cot. “Are we in Kansas?”

“No, my dear. We’re still at the harbor, waiting to board a river boat to St. Louis.”

“We’re in America?”

“Yes,” Ma said with a smile. “We’ve had our papers signed and are official residents.”

“Where is he? I thought I saw him.”

Ma frowned again but then tried to cover it with a smile. “Your father isn’t here. He’s meeting us in St. Louis, where we’ll take the train to Kansas.”

I furrowed my brows. Finn had been at my side, pushing me to wake up and rejoin the world. “No, I wasn’t talking about Da. Where is Finn? I know he’s here.”

The smile faded from my mother’s face, and she put down my hand she had been holding. Her eyebrows went up in a determined arch. “He’d better not be, young lady! I will hear no more of your leprechaun. I’ve told you, he is not allowed to come with us to Kansas, and I will no longer indulge your relationship with him.”

“But. . .”

“No, Maeve. Do not speak to me of him again. Ever!” Ma stood and put both hands on her hips. “Enough. I’ve had enough of it!”

I took a deep breath and looked away, knowing her will was probably as strong as Finn’s. They both seemed to want the same thing, the end of our relationship, which meant the end of my world. There was no hope of an interesting life in this new land, not without him. Little did I know how wrong that assumption was. But at that moment, I felt retched.

###

Later that evening, after having a few hours to drink some broth, regain some of my strength, and get dressed, I ventured outside the tent. The air was cooler than it had been that afternoon but still thick with moisture. A constant hum of crickets and other creatures could be heard over the bustling community of immigrants. I didn’t want to think about what was creating such a noise in the swampland beyond the campfires, so instead I focused on the activity in front of me. Laughter, music, children shrieking with delight, and loud voices with all sorts of accents drifted toward me.

I strolled around the campsite, taking in the sights, wondering where all the MacKeighrys had gone. I almost stumbled over a woman so black she blended into the night sky. She sat on a rock, holding what looked to be homemade dolls.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said as I corrected my direction.

A deep chuckle came from her withered mouth. “Ooowee! No one has eva’ called me ‘ma’am’ before, Sugar Plum. At least no one of yo’ color.” She smiled up at me, showing off the whitest,

straightest teeth I had ever seen. Pieces of gray hair peeked out of the bandana wound around her head. “Do you want one of my dolls?”

She held it out to me to the point I had to look at it or be rude.

“No, thank you,” I said as I backed away, suddenly sensing something dark in the crudely constructed cloth and yarn doll.

“I can put a spell on the man o’ yo’ dreams with it. He’ll never cheat or leave you.”

“Yes, but can you make a magical being stay by my side forever?”

She put her head back and heartily laughed. “Oh no, child. Nothin’ can control something magical.”

I sighed as I walked away, hearing her laughter at my back. At least the people of this new land didn’t deny the existence of magic, I thought with a small measure of hope.

I started back toward the tent but then heard familiar voices raised in anger, so I turned toward that instead.

“No, it is absolutely out of the question,” I heard Ma say.

“I’m eighteen. I can do what I want. I’m not a child!” Gavin said much too quickly.

“Then stop acting like one,” Michael said, as he pointed his finger in Gavin’s face. Not something I would ever dare to do.

I could feel the anger in the air around them. They all turned as I arrived at where they stood, slightly away from the main campfire.

“Go away, Maeve. This isn’t your concern,” Michael said through clenched teeth.

“Get that finger out of my face, or I’ll break it,” Gavin said. His cold stare was convincing enough to make Michael put his hand down.

I searched Ma’s eyes for a reason for this rift, but she looked away as tears fell down her cheeks. “Gavin has decided to leave us.”

“What?” The astonishment came through in my voice. I noticed Michael’s hands open and close in a fist. I looked at Gavin, wondering what had happened. He had always been the rebel, but it had never gone this far before.

“Seems our brother here thinks life as a gambler in New Orleans will get him what he wants,” Michael said.

“It’s better than being a farmer. Besides, it’s my gambling wins that got everyone a passage on that river boat. You’d all be stuck in in this stinky campsite if it weren’t for me,” Gavin said, slapping his hands to his chest. “Once again, we have to pick up slack for Da’s shortcomings and

find money somehow. I’m tired of it! I’ve done my part for you all. Now, I’m gonna make it the way I want.”

“That’s not true! Da sent the money to get us to Kansas,” I exclaimed. Why would Gavin say such a thing? Da would never leave his family stranded in a strange country. But then the three of them turned and stared at me as if I were a child.

“As I said, Maeve, this is none of your concern,” Michael said with a nod toward our tent, dismissing me.

“No,” Ma said. “This is her concern as one of the older children. It’s time she knew the truth.”

I looked at my mother with confusion.

“Your father had only enough money for our steerage across the ocean.”

“But. . .” I couldn’t think of what to say. “You brought us all this way without knowing what would happen? How were you planning to get us all to Kansas?”

Ma bit her lip, and Michael’s head sunk a little bit.

“I knew I’d figure something out by the time we landed,” she said.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to; I came to the rescue,” Gavin chimed in a factual manner. “Why do you think I played cards on the ship so much? And now, I’m buying my freedom with your passage up river. I’ll telegraph Da that you’re on your way, so he can meet you. Then I’m off the hook.” His words weren’t said in anger or desperation, which made them seem final.

Ma began to shake, and Michael just stood there nodding his head and looking into the distance.

“Gavin? What are you doing?” I asked, stepping closer to him. I seemed to be the only one able to form words at the moment. I couldn’t imagine life without him. We were only thirteen months apart and had spent our entire lives as co-conspirators.

“What I want to do, for the first time in my life. This land is full of promises. Anything is possible.” Gavin’s voice held persuasive excitement. “And I want more than being a farmer for the rest of my life. You could come with me, if you want to?”

“Come with you? Where?”

A flash of sadness crossed Gavin’s handsome face, but then it was gone. “I’ll see you at the boat landing in the morning,” he said to Ma. “Get to the pier for the River Queen by dawn. I’ve heard they’ve overbooked the boat, so anyone showing up late might not make it on. Get there early, and I’ll make sure you get private quarters. The captain owes me some money, so he promised me that.” He walked away and headed out of the campsite.

My mouth fell open. I couldn’t imagine the MacKeighry family without Gavin’s wit and quick thinking. While Michael was the older, more serious brother, Gavin was the one who managed to get

the impossible done, no matter how much scheming and manipulating he had to do. Da was a dreamer, so Michael and Gavin had been the caretakers of our large, and somewhat unusual, family. I looked at Michael and wondered how he’d ever manage without his second in command, and how I’d manage without my closest brother – the one who never judged me.

“We won’t speak of this again, especially around the boys,” Ma said. “If anyone asks, Gavin is staying behind to make sure our papers are in order and will be joining us later.”


Near the Wild by Maureen WillettPublication Date: June 15, 2015
eBook; 229 Pages
ASIN: B010JLKZZY
Genre: Historical Fiction



COWBOYS AND LEPRECHAUNS. Both occupy Maeve MacKeighry’s world in 1870, and she must decide which will win her heart. Leprechauns are feared, even in Ireland, but that doesn’t prevent Maeve from striking up a friendship with one who lives near her village. But once Maeve becomes a young woman, the local villagers start to gossip, especially since the MacKeighrys are known to practice magic in their home. It’s just for entertainment, but the town folk don’t see it that way. Rather than be outcasts, the MacKeighrys set off to America to homestead in Kansas, vowing to leave their magical ways and friends behind. Little do they know that Maeve’s friend follows and protects them on their journey.

The MacKeighrys encounter many adventures along the way to Kansas, only to find a simple sod house on their new farm at the end of the journey. The untamed land offers a fresh start for the family, as well as two very interesting men who both compete for Maeve’s attention. Pretty young women in a wild western town are a rarity. But can she forget her magical friend, and turn her attention to two of the most interesting men she has ever met? Perhaps cowboys and outlaws have a certain charm that a leprechaun doesn’t, after all.
Most of the novel takes place in Kansas in 1870 and is based on my family’s history. The idea of the MacKeighry’s sod house came from the home of my great grandfather. I was lucky enough to visit it as a teenager before the house was destroyed. One of the characters, Nikki Fuerst, is based on an ancestor, a prince from Austria who was disinherited for marrying a commoner and sent off to America. Stories I’ve been told my entire life about my family’s history and traditions, such as levitating tables, are included in Near The Wild.



About the Author
Maureen Willett is a writer of fiction that pushes the boundaries of established genres. Her stories mostly come from her own family legends that have been passed down through generations, but then she tops them off with a twist of faery dust and angel wings. But at the core of each story are great characters in very human conflicts that anyone will find compelling. Each novel is crafted as an experience that will take readers beyond their day-to-day lives, incorporating themes of time travel, reincarnation, and magic. She is a former journalist, public relations professional, and media marketing specialist. Maureen lives in Hawaii with her family and walks the white-sand beaches of Oahu each day to get her inspiration for writing.


Tour Schedule: http://hfvirtualbooktours.com/nearthewildblogtour/
Hashtags: #NeartheWildBlogTour #HistoricalFiction
Twitter Tags: @hfvbt @maureenwillett

June 01, 2015

Sheila Myers' Imaginary Brightness - Guest Post


One of the challenges of writing historical fiction, I have come to realize, is the fear that what I write may construed as the truth. 

I am trying my best to stick to generally known facts about the family of Dr. Thomas C. Durant. Dr. Durant was one of the masterminds behind the transcontinental railroad and there is currently an AMC t.v. series about him and the railroad days called Hell on Wheels. 

But while he was busy building the railroad across the U.S., his family was sequestered abroad living it up on all the money he stole from taxpayers. My novel focuses on the time period after the railroad was constructed and his next venture developing the Adirondack wilderness where he owned ½ million acres. 

And it focuses especially his son, William West Durant. When it comes to writing this novel William has been an enigma to me. There are some things I just can't make up - like the date of his birth, or when he lived where. The fact that he divorced, was under financial duress, was sued by his sister - these are facts. 

What we may never really know however is what was going on in his mind while he was living his life. What was he thinking when he built that $200,000 yacht while sending his sister a paltry $200/month allowance to live on in England? There is the court testimony from his sister's lawsuit (Heloise Durant Rose vs. William West Durant, 1903) that sheds some light on the actual scandal. But it doesn't answer the question: where was William's chivalry?

And why did he divorce his wife after ten years of marriage and three children? The divorce case papers are sealed - I only have a few news articles written in 1898 to go by - will we ever really know what went on between William and Janet behind bedroom doors? I have to let my imagination wander.

William West Durant is famous because of the great camps he built in the Adirondacks, forging a unique style of rustic architecture. But what was he thinking when he built the Great Camp Uncas or Sagamore in the Adirondacks? What was he trying to prove? What was his motivation? Surely it could not be all for show and tell, yet he lost money on each venture. 

I know once I present my own fictional version of what might have motivated the man there will be those that will disagree with my interpretation. Let them. 

I am not writing this story to try to break new ground on the historian's account of his life. I am writing it to elucidate for the general public, a story of a man that embodies a lot of the human frailties and greatness that we all have within us. 

Along the way though I have discovered a few errors in William's biography. What to do with them while I write is another story in itself. To learn more about my research journey visit my blog at Tracking William West Durant

Watch the book trailer

https://vimeo.com/122172532

Available May 31th, 2015 in print and eBook:

To order the ebook in the U.S. link here http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UPFBCWU

For U.K. visitors link here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00UPFBCWU


About the author 
This is the second novel for Sheila Myers, a professor at a regional community college in Upstate New York where she lives with her husband and three children. Her first foray into writing, Ephemeral Summer, was a novel that explored her own passion for the environment in the beloved Finger Lakes region. With this new novel, Imaginary Brightness: a Durant family Saga, Myers tackles the complicated history of the development of the Adirondack Wilderness and the pioneers that pursued their vision of what some called ‘A Central Park for the World.’ “ She has kept a blog about her research journey as well as fastidious notes on her sources for historic characters portrayed in her novel. “Blogging about where I have gone, what libraries and museum archives I have visited, as well as the people that I have been researching has been the most interesting part about writing this novel on the Durant family and their connections.” She can be reached at lifeofwwd@gmail.com.

May 08, 2015

Pamela Schoenewaldt's Under the Same Blue Sky - Guest Post


Making Research Serve the Story 

Being boundlessly fascinated by history is essential to—but sometimes the curse of—historical novelists. In research for Under the Same Blue Sky, set during and after World War I, what I found out about the 1919 Influenza Pandemic floored me. Sure, I know it happened. Here’s what I didn’t know:

This was the most devastating medical holocaust in the history of the world, killing 30-50 million people, an estimated 3-6% of the globe, from remote Pacific Islands to the Arctic Circle. In the U.S., 675, 000 died. Ten times as many soldiers died of influenza as were killed in battle. Average U.S. lifespan was depressed by 10 years. Death was horrific and could come within 24 hours of the first symptoms. Treatment was palliative at best. While most epidemics select for the young, the elderly, or the weak, this influenza, turning the body’s immune system against itself, targeted healthy young adults in their 20’s-30’s: young parents and the working powerhouses of their communities.

I read heart-breaking stories, worthy of many novels. Disaster brings out the best and worst in human nature: selfless heroics and ugly profiteering. Cemetery workers priced-gouged or simply left grieving families to dig their loved ones’ graves. There weren’t enough coffins. A survivor shared a searing memory of parents in Philadelphia’s hard-hit Italian community screaming after the death cart bearing their baby away: “Put him in a macaroni box, at least a macaroni box.” He was dumped in a common grave. There were weird civic alliances. When Pennsylvania’s governor closed all public gathering places—schools, theaters, churches, taverns—Pittsuburgh’s churches and taverns lobbied together to rescind the order, both groups claiming that the solace they offered overruled the risk of infection.

To gather this information I drew on many sources, starting of course with internet materials. But these needed to be vetted and expanded. I want readers to trust me. I don’t want to tangle with HarperCollins fact-checkers: a tough breed. A public library and interlibrary loans helped. I interviewed an epidemiologist in public health and a physician on pediatric complications since one of the“victims” in Under the Same Blue Sky was a three-year old boy.

I had to do this research very quickly. The pandemic was only one of many topics to research in the year that my contract specified for a 100,000 word final draft. And here’s the catch. In the end, I cut pages and pages of influenza material. Fascinating as it was, accurate as it was, some details and scenes just didn’t in the end pull their weight to serve the story. I’m no historian. I’m a particular breed of storyteller, a historical novelist. That means being ruthless, tireless in gathering and checking and cross-checking material—and then being ready to listen to your inner (or outer) editor and let it go. Or . . . keep it for the next book.

About the book
As World War 1 engulfs Europe, Hazel Renner’s German-American community is increasingly isolated and suspect. Hazel’s mother is convinced that Hazel’s mysterious healing talents point to a career in medicine, but Hazel’s dreams lie elsewhere. As the war escalates, Hazel escapes to teach in a one-room country schoolhouse, desperate for peace. But peace is impossible when her healing powers bring shattering consequences, beginning a journey that takes her to an exiled baron’s looming castle in New Jersey and into the ruins of post-war Germany to solve the mystery of her past, ultimately of herself, as she fashions a new kind of healing for a shell-shocked hero and one small boy.

Absorbing and layered with rich historical details, Schoenewaldt weaves a tender and at times, heartbreaking story about German-Americans during World War I. With remarkable compassion, the author skillfully portrays conflicted loyalties, the search for belonging, the cruelty of war, and the resilience of the human spirit.
--Ann Weisgarber, author of The Promise and The Personal History of Rachel Dupree

“The past returns in this story of the Great War, to tell of some who survived and some who didn’t. Hazel Renner is a hesitant healer, a young woman afraid of her gift. When the power to cure physical ailments deserts her, she tries instead to mend the human spirit. Rich in historical detail, this novel describes what it is to be gentle in a world gone terribly mad.” 
--Rita Leganski, author of The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow

"From the smoke-filled streets of Pittsburgh to the war-ravaged landscape of Europe, UNDER THE SAME BLUE SKY is the story of one woman’s wonderfully determined journey through a world at the edge of war to seek her family’s past and her own future. 
--Jessica Brockmole, author of Letters from Skye 

Image Credit: Kelly Norrell

About the author
Pamela Schoenewaldt is the USA Today bestselling author of the novels WHEN WE WERE STRANGERS, which was translated into three languages and selected as a Barnes & Noble Discover selection, and SWIMMING IN THE MOON, which appears in German this year and which was short-listed for the Langum Prize in American Historical Fiction. Her prize-winning short stories have appeared in literary magazines in England, France, Italy, and the United States. She taught writing for the University of Maryland, European Division and the University of Tennessee. You can find her online at http://pamelaschoenewaldt.com/.

March 30, 2015

Judith Redline Coopey - Guest Post


Writing a Trilogy – Why or Why Not

A word of advice from a slow learner:  never announce that you intend to write a trilogy before you’ve actually written the trilogy.  Mine, The Juniata Iron Trilogy, started out as what will eventually be Volume Three.  Actually it started out as a desire to write something inspired by the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.   I loved that book for its array of eccentric and memorable characters.  So with that in mind, I started to develop my own set of strange beings, delving into my memory of the 1950s in rural western Pennsylvania.  A gun enthusiast who shot out of his upstairs window at targets across the road as cars whizzed by.  An eastern European immigrant whose command of English was just about non-existent raising three kids on his own after his wife died.  A crazy dare-devil kid trying to wring every last thrill out of his young life before tuberculosis took him down. A kind unmarried woman dedicating her life to caring for her father and two bachelor brothers, finding joy in her collection of African Violets.  For these and other characters I turned for further inspiration to a place near where I grew up in rural Pennsylvania.

The place was Mt Etna, a lost soul of a community when I was growing up more than fifty years ago, and barely a distant memory now.  In the 1950s, Mt Etna was a collection of run down former workers’ houses strung out along the Juniata River, remnants of a once prosperous and energetic iron plantation.  As a youth, I passed through Mt Etna every day, not even curious as to its origins and former glory.  All I knew was that the place was derelict and the people who lived there were poor.

Mt Etna in the 1950s was fertile ground for a collection of eccentrics, so I started there and went my merry way, writing a little from memory and a little from imagination.  What happened along the way to divert me from a single volume to a trilogy was curiosity. What had Mt Etna really been like back in its nineteenth century heyday?  How and why had it come along at all? For an historical novelist those how and why questions are the essence of why we write.  Our curiosity leads us down roads we never imagined existed to destinations far from where we thought we were going.

So to answer the how and the why, I began researching Mt Etna.  Now this was a tiny hamlet, never more than about 300 to 350 people, and it’s been nothing more than a ruin for  the past thirty or forty years. So where was I going to find out anything about it?  Enter the internet.  That’s right.  Amazing as it seems, I found a treasure trove of information about Mt Etna’s history at the Historic American Engineering Record, HAER No. PA-224.  There it was, all laid out before me – narrative, maps, drawings, a solid historical account of The Mt Etna Iron Works.

Add to that local historical societies:  Blair County Historical Society, Huntingdon County Historical Society, and local newspaper archives.  I love local historical societies.  They preserve so much that would be lost, simply by collecting, cataloguing and keeping.  Someone has to do that!  And they do it without compensation for years.  So, armed with plenty of historical fact and what is still left of the buildings, including the furnace itself, the manor house, now undergoing restoration, the company store, a tenant house, three log workers’ cabins and a huge stone bank barn, I became familiar with the place again.  Only this time I paid attention.

For me, the story always emerges out of the research.  I read and study and think about the time and place until I think I know it, and then I wait for the story to make its way out of the jumbled mass.  Once I’d familiarized myself with the actual history of Mt Etna, I knew there was more than one book here.  I’ve always loved family sagas, where the reader gets to follow the ebb and flow of a family’s fortunes, so I opted for a trilogy about the MacPhail family, purely fictional, but true to time and place.

So that’s how I got to writing a trilogy from the wrong end.  The first volume, The Furnace, came out in the fall of 2014.  Volume Two, tentatively titled The Brothers, is due this fall, and Volume Three should follow in 2016.  Writing the first volume came fairly easily once I’d studied the history of the place, and when launched in October 2014, it quickly claimed its place among readers.  The only problem was, once they read volume one, they clamored for volume two, and I hadn’t even written it yet.  Having done such extensive research, and having established time, place and a cast of characters, it should have been easy to slip right into volume two. Well, it was, but…  The pressure was on.  Could I keep up the tension?  Could I shepherd this family through another generation?  Could I keep my readers happy and looking forward to volume three?

 Who knows?  All a writer can do is write.  And hope.  So I jumped into volume two, and at this writing the first draft is simmering on the back burner.  I’ll leave it there for a month or two before I begin the revision process.  It feels pretty good right now, but that will be for the readers to decide.  Volume three is already half written.  I know where this is going, and where it ends, but the pressure is still on to produce a good story well told – my ultimate goal.

Which brings me back to where this blog began.  If I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s this.  Don’t ever tell the world you are writing a trilogy until you’ve written a trilogy.  The pressure can be deadly, and I’m up for it, but after this, I think I’ll go back to writing one book at a time!

About the books


The Furnace (Juniata Iron Trilogy, #1)
Publication Date: October 1, 2014
Fox Hollow Press
*Formats: eBook & Paperback
Pages: 336
Series: Volume One, Juniata Iron Trilogy
Genre: Historical Fiction

Add to GR Button

READ AN EXCERPT.

Elinor Bratton, young, beautiful, and privileged is pregnant and cast aside by her lover, the wealthy and spoiled scion of a eastern Pennsylvania family. As a result she is forced by her father into an arranged marriage to a man she barely knows. Adam MacPhail, a common iron worker whose only wish is to become an iron master agrees to the match as a means of realizing his dream. Ellie’s father, Stephen Bratton, well to do, well connected and determined to save his daughter’s reputation, orchestrates the union — not as Ellie would have it, but as he sees fit. So begins a marriage in a time when a woman had no voice, no rights, no say in matters directly pertaining to her. Ellie, exiled to the wilderness of western Pennsylvania with a man she would not have considered three months before, declares her intention to make Adam’s life miserable and make her father pay for his high-handed disregard for her rights. Adam, unschooled in dealing with women, chooses to focus his energy and attention on turning a down and out iron furnace into a profitable, well-ordered producer. Through the first half of the nineteenth century, the couple struggle to establish a life, disentangle an ill-conceived marriage, and make a success of a derelict furnace through the ups and downs of an unpredictable industry. Volume One of The Juniata Iron Trilogy, The Furnace chronicles Ellie and Adam’s efforts to find a balance and build an enterprise worthy of Pennsylvania’s iron industry, producing Juniata Iron, the finest in the world.

Buy The Furnace


Looking for Jane
Publication Date: December 21, 2012
Fox Hollow Press
Formats: ebook & Paperback
Pages: 238
Genre: Historical Fiction

“The nuns use this as their measuring stick: who your people are. Well, what if you don’t have no people? Or any you know of? What then? Are you doomed?” This is the nagging question of fifteen-year-old Nell’s life. Born with a cleft palate and left a foundling on the doorstep of a convent, she yearns to know her mother, whose name, she knows, was Jane.
When the Mother Superior tries to pawn her off to a mean looking farmer and his beaten down wife, Nell opts for the only alternative she can see: she runs away. A chance encounter with a dime novel exhorting the exploits of Calamity Jane, heroine of the west, gives Nell the purpose of her life: to find Calamity Jane, who Nell is convinced is her mother.
Her quest takes her down rivers, up rivers and across the Badlands to Deadwood, South Dakota and introduces her to Soot, a big, lovable black dog, and Jeremy Chatterfield, a handsome young Englishman who isn’t particular about how he makes his way, as long as he doesn’t have to work for it. Together they trek across the country meeting characters as wonderful and bizarre as the adventure they seek, learning about themselves and the world along the way.

Buy Looking for Jane


Waterproof: A Novel of the Johnstown Flood
Publication Date: May 1, 2012
Fox Hollow Press
Formats: ebook & Paperback
Pages: 266
Genre: Historical Fiction

Fifty years after an earthen dam broke and sent a thirty foot wall of raging destruction down on the city of Johnstown, PA, Pamela McRae looks back on the tragedy with new perspective.
When the flood hit, it wiped out Pam’s fondest hopes, taking her fiancé and her brother’s lives and her mother’s sanity, and within a year her father walked away, leaving his daughter
—now the sole support of her mother—to cope with poverty and loneliness.
The arrival of Katya, a poor Hungarian girl running away from an arranged marriage, finally gives Pam the chance she needs to get back into the world; Katya can care for her mother, and Pam can go to work for the Johnstown Clarion as a society reporter.
Then Davy Hughes, Pam’s fiancé before the flood, reappears and, instead of being the answer to her prayers, further complicates her life. Someone is seeking revenge on the owners of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, the Pittsburgh millionaires who owned the failed dam, and Pam is afraid Davy has something to do with it.

Buy Waterproof


Redfield Farm: A Novel of the Underground Railroad
Publication Date: April 2, 2010
Formats: ebook & Paperback
Pages: 280
Genre: Historical Fiction

Ann Redfield is destined to follow her brother Jesse through life – two years behind him – all the way. Jesse is a conductor on the Underground Railroad, and Ann follows him there as well.
Quakers filled with a conviction as hard as Pennsylvania limestone that slavery is an abomination to be resisted with any means available, the Redfield brother and sister lie, sneak, masquerade and defy their way past would-be enforcers of the hated Fugitive Slave Law.
Their activities inevitably lead to complicated relationships when Jesse returns from a run with a deadly fever, accompanied by a fugitive, Josiah, who is also sick and close to death. Ann nurses both back to health. But precious time is lost, and Josiah, too weak for winter travel, stays on at Redfield Farm. Ann becomes his teacher, friend and confidant. When grave disappointment disrupts her life, Ann turns to Josiah for comfort, and comfort leads to intimacy. The result, both poignant and inspiring, leads to a life long devotion to one another and their cause.

Buy Redfield Farm


About the Author
Judith Redline Coopey, born in Altoona, PA holds degrees from the Pennsylvania State University and Arizona State University. A passion for history inherited from her father drives her writing and a love for Pennsylvania sustains it. Her first book, Redfield Farm was the story of the Underground Railroad in Bedford County, Pennsylvania. The second, Waterproof, tells how the 1889 Johnstown Flood nearly destroyed a whole city and one young woman’s life. Looking For Jane is a quest for love and family in the 1890s brought to life through the eyes of Nell, a young girl convinced that Calamity Jane is her mother. Her most recent work, The Furnace: Volume One of the Juniata Iron Trilogy, is set on an iron plantation near where she grew up and tells the story of an ill conceived marriage of convenience as it plays out over a lifetime. As a teacher, writer and student of history, Ms Coopey finds her inspiration in the rich history of her native state and in stories of the lives of those who have gone before.

For more information please visit Judith Redline Coopey’s website. You can also find her on Facebook,Twitter, and Goodreads.

Visit other blogs on the tour--Tour Schedule
Twitter Hashtag: #JudithRedlineCoopeyBlogTour #Historical
Twitter Tags: @hfvbt 

February 19, 2015

Spotlight on Carmela Cattuti's Between the Cracks

02_Between the Cracks_CoverPlease join Carmela Cattuti as she tours the blogosphere for Between the Cracks: One Woman's Journey from Sicily to America, from February 9-27, and enter to win a Kindle Touch eReader, loaded with an eBook of Between the Cracks!

Publication Date: August 15, 2013
Three Towers Press
Formats: eBook, Paperback
Pages: 324
Genre: Historical Fiction

Add to GR Button



READ AN EXCERPT.  

Join Angela Lanza as she experiences the tumultuous world of early 20th century Sicily and New York. Orphaned by the earthquake and powerful eruption of Mt. Etna in 1908, Angela is raised in the strict confines of an Italian convent.

Through various twists of fate, she is married to a young Italian man whom she barely knows, then together with her spouse, immigrates to the U.S. This novel is an invitation to accompany the young Angela as she confronts the ephemeral nature of life on this planet and navigates the wide cultural gaps between pre-World War II Italy and the booming prosperity of dynamic young America. Author, artist, and teacher Carmela Cattuti created Between the Cracks as an homage to her great-aunt, who survived the earthquake and eruption of Mt. Etna and bravely left Sicily to start a new life in America.


Buy the Book

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble
Book Depository

03_Carmela Cattuti_AuthorAbout the Author

Carmela Cattuti started her writing career as a journalist for the Somerville News in Boston, MA. After she finished her graduate work in English Literature from Boston College she began to write creatively and taught a journal writing course at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education As fate would have it, she felt compelled to write her great aunt's story. "Between the Cracks" has gone through several incarnations and will now become a trilogy. This is the first installment. To connect with Carmela email her cattutic@gmail.com or leave a comment at betweenthecracksnovel.blogspot.com.

Between the Cracks Blog Tour Schedule

Monday, February 9
Guest Post at Book Babe

Tuesday, February 10
Spotlight at What Is That Book About

Thursday, February 12
Guest Post at Boom Baby Reviews

Monday, February 16
Review at Back Porchervations
Spotlight at Bookish

Wednesday, February 18
Review at Book Nerd

Thursday, February 19
Spotlight at Historical Fiction Connection

Friday, February 20
Spotlight at My Book Addiction and More

Tuesday, February 24
Guest Post at Let Them Read Books

Wednesday, February 25
Guest Post at A Literary Vacation
Spotlight at Layered Pages

Thursday, February 26
Review at Svetlana's Reads and Views

Friday, February 27
Spotlight at Passages to the Past

Giveaway

To enter to win a Kindle Touch eReader (valued at $59) & eBook of Between the Cracks, sponsored by author Carmela Cattuti, please complete the giveaway form below.

Giveaway ends at 11:59pm on February 27th. You must be 18 or older to enter. Only one entry per household. All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion. Winner will be chosen via GLEAM on February 28th and notified via email. Winner have 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen. Please email Amy @ hfvirtualbooktours@gmail.com with any questions.


 photo 2fb04189-29aa-4a83-9944-d50f9c3a42af.png

December 26, 2014

Spotlight on Jay W. Curry's Nixon and Dovey


Publication Date: November 14, 2014
Smashwords
eBook: 369p
ISBN: 978-1-3117280-3-6
Genre: Historical Fiction


Before he met Dovey, it was just a heated feud. Now, in the backdrop of southern antebellum slavery, it’s a deadly game of passion, murder, and revenge.

Facts: In 1818 Nixon Curry became entangled in one of the most sensationalized murder/love stories in early American history. As a result, Nixon Curry became arguably the most notorious and widely publicized criminal in America’s first half century. His fame derived not from the brutality or number of his crimes but from the determination of the Charlotte aristocracy to hang him. His remarkable talents, undying love for Dovey Caldwell, and the outright audacity of his exploits made him an early American legend.

Story: Set in the antebellum south of North Carolina, Nixon Curry, a talented son of poor Scot-Irish immigrants, accepts a job at a racing stable. Soon, his riding skills rival those of his mentor, Ben Wilson. The fierce rivalry becomes confrontational when Ben frames Nixon’s childhood, slave friend, Cyrus, for the Caldwell plantation fire. When both Nixon and Ben win invitations to the 1816 Race of Champions, the stage is set for an explosive faceoff. During prerace festivities, the dashing, young Nixon meets the beautiful Dovey Caldwell, daughter of the state’s wealthiest and most influential senator. Finding Nixon unworthy of Dovey’s affection, Senator Caldwell betroths his daughter to Nixon’s nemesis, Ben. The announcement sets in motion a clash of cultures, talents, and passions leading to murder, mayhem, and revenge.

How far will Nixon go to have his love? What price is he willing to pay and what will be the consequences?

Buy the Book


About the Author
Jay W Curry is a former Big-4 consulting partner, business coach, and award-winning author. When he is not coaching, fly-fishing or writing he facilitates a Vistage CEO roundtable in Houston. Jay has co-authored three internationally successful books and has won honors for both his short fiction and non-fiction work. When the heat of Texas summer arrives, Jay and his wife, Nancy, head to their Colorado home (http:/CurryBarn.com) or visit their three children and seven grandchildren. Nixon and Dovey is the first of a three-book passion to bring the 200-year-old story of Jay’s relative, Nixon Curry, back to light.

For more information, please visit Jay W. Curry’s website. You can also find him on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.


Visit other blogs on the tour--Tour Schedule
Twitter Hashtag: #NixonandDoveyBlogTour #Historical
Twitter Tags:  @hfvbt @jaywcurry

November 13, 2014

Shaun D. Mullen's There’s A House In The Land - Guest Post, Excerpt and {Giveaway}


As a career journalist of the old school, I had long resisted writing about my own life on a farm beyond the far western suburbs of Philadelphia in the 1970s, but people kept telling me that those years on the farm would make for a very special book. They were right.

There’s A House In The Land (Where A Band Can Take A Stand)” fell into place when I decided to write about the farm from an historical fiction perspective.

Writing about my decade on the farm through the lens of historic fiction let me do a couple of things: A few of my housemates had not survived the decade, but most were alive and I wanted to protect their identities, so names of people and places were changed. And I rearranged some events from their sometime chronological inconvenience to my writerly convenience to give the book a better and more dramatic flow.

Another problem remained. Our adventures aside, there was a profundity to our time together, the lessons we took away and how they have shaped our lives since. I did not want to write a fictionalized memoir that would come off sounding like a rural version of the movie “Animal House.” In this I succeeded, at least according to reviewers.

Here with the opening of the first chapter of “There’s A House In The Land”:

“The first time I went out to Kiln Farm, bumping along in an aluminum beach chair anchored to the floor in the back of Eldon's Chevy Step Van, it seemed like it took forever although the farm was only 10 miles from New Park.

“Back then New Park was a quaint college town without a single decent restaurant. But it did have the New Park Tavern, which Edgar Allan Poe is said to have cursed when he got falling-down drunk following a lecture at the college and was thrown out, as well as two other establishments where students could hoist a pint before returning to the comfy confines of a picture book campus with ivy-covered buildings. The Poe story is apocryphal because the tavern didn't exist when the poet-storyteller gave the lecture, but that hadn't prevented the management from plastering raven images on beer mugs and T-shirts.

“Today that quaintness is long gone. There are several decent restaurants, the tavern is still raven-centric, but has been cleansed of its rusticated piss and beer charm. About the curse, I don't know. After a night of drinking, students now return to a campus that has grown up to become a world-class university known for far more than its football team.

“As for the farm, all but the farmhouse was razed years ago. The garden, apiary, barn, milk house, chicken coop, black walnut tree that little Caitlin swung under, and the fields that seemed to go on forever, were bulldozed and replaced by cookie cutter townhouses in a development insultingly called Kiln Farms.

* * * * *

“Eldon turned off the state road onto a driveway flanked by row after row of field corn and began the bumpy ascent to a place that would be my home for the next 10 years.
“My initial impression was a cosmic wow! For the first time since I had returned from Nam, I finally felt like I was home. It just wasn't the kind of home I had expected when a past and future resident of the farm, whom I had met in Saigon shortly before we caught Freedom Birds home, invited me to hang out until I got my bearings.

“The upper story of the farmhouse came into view as we began to crest the last hill and broke free of the cornfields. Windows blazing brilliant orange with the reflection of the late afternoon sun framed by white stucco walls and topped by a faded red tin roof created the appearance of a gigantic grinning jack o' lantern. Appropriate, because it was Halloween. There was music playing. Very loud music. I recognized it as King Crimson's ‘In the Court of the Crimson King.’

“The music was blaring from large Pioneer speakers on a porch flanked by two guys guarding a half keg of beer in a wash tub filled with chunks of ice. Both could have been mistaken for guitar god Duane Allman with their tall and lean builds, bushy moustaches and long hair, while an Irish setter, whom I imagined had to be deaf from the volume of the music, slept on the steps between the porch and front lawn, where a hotly contested game of horseshoes was being played.

“The guy sitting on one side of the keg was resplendent in a sparkling red lamé jumpsuit, MARS emblazoned in big letters on the back. His head and arms were painted a matching red, as well. The guy on the other side was wearing a similar only blue lamé jumpsuit with VENUS across the back, his head and arms painted blue. Trick or treating had obviously started early for these two planets . . .'

Buy the book


About the author
Shaun D. Mullen is an award-winning journalist and more recently an author.

Over a long career with newspapers, this editor and reporter covered the Vietnam War, O.J. Simpson trials, Clinton impeachment circus and coming of Osama bin Laden, among many other big stories. His work was nominated for five Pulitzer Prizes. Mullen also mentored reporters who went on to be the best in the newspaper and television business, including several who won Pulitzer Prizes.

He is the author of "The Bottom of the Fox: A True Story of Love, Devotion & Cold-Blooded Murder," a 2010 true-crime book about an unsolved murder in the Pennsylvania Poconos that recently has seen a surge in sales because of the manhunt for Eric Frein, who was captured after a 48-day manhunt and is charged with murdering a Pennsylvania state trooper. In August, he published "There's A House In The Land,” an historical fiction tale of the 1970s.

“Kiko’s House” is Mullen’s blog about political and cultural affairs. He also is a guest columnist at “The Moderate Voice.”

Much of Mullen's work is archived in the Shaun D. Mullen Journalism Papers in Special Collections at the University of Delaware Library.


GIVEAWAY
Follow the instructions on the Rafflecopter form below to enter for a chance to win one of three print copies of There's A House In The Land (Open internationally)!

a Rafflecopter giveaway