Not PC

Authors who write historical fiction struggle to strike a balance between being historically accurate and not offending modern readers. It's a veritable tightrope. Lean too far either way, and you turn part of your audience off. Not leaning at all can upset them, too.

*reader throws book against the wall* "Choose a lane!"

(kidding)

Personally, Reader-Me prefers historical novels that make me feel as if I've been dropped into another time. Character dialogue and behavior should be true to the setting year, as should the depiction of life in general. I want the main characters to be likable, which often means making them a tad progressive for their time, but I don't mind things being portrayed the way they really were.

Our country was quite patriarchal in the 19th century, and women had few rights. Marriage vows contained the word obey, and men had the legal latitude to enforce it. Prior to the 1970s, there was no such thing as rape in marriage. A man could bed his wife anytime he wished, regardless of whether he had her permission. Because of the way society was back then, some readers avoid historical novels or prefer those filled with anachronisms. 

I don't. 

While I often craft my historical heroes to be manly, unapologetic heads of their homes, I also give them a soft side. To me, the fact an 1800s hero treats his heroine well, even when - by law - he doesn't have to, makes him more likeable than his contemporary counterparts, not less.

In Precious Atonement, the second book in my Forging America series, a widower knowingly marries a rape survivor. Although he does not intend to consummate their marriage on their wedding night, they've been friends for a while, and her fearful behavior stings his pride. 

He speaks firmly to her, as a man in 1849 wouldn't think twice about doing. Some readers didn't like that.

Jacob bent forward, planting the lightest of kisses on her palm. “Goodnight.” He released her hand and turned as if to leave.

“Wh– where are you going?”  

“To sleep in the spare room”

“Why?”

He turned fully back to her then, kind resignation muting his sapphire eyes. “You can barely stand to be in the same room with me. I won’t force you to share a bed.”

She watched him walk to the door, unable to say a word, unable to decide which emotion pouring through her was stronger—relief or regret.

Rachel’s heart beat so fast, it thrummed a constant quiver in her chest. “Wait,” she called as his broad body filled the frame.

He paused and looked back at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t go.” Her nerves settled a bit. “I don’t want you to go.”

His eyes narrowed briefly, then his brow smoothed. “Very well. If that’s your choice.”

“It is.”

Her anxiety rose again as he turned around, stealing what little serenity she’d gained.

Jacob walked to the other side of the bed and sat, causing frame to creak and the mattress to sag deeply. With practiced ease, he removed his boots and began to disrobe. He stood long enough to lower his trousers and lay his clothes across the back of a nearby chair, and then he climbed into bed, wearing only his drawers. After pulling the covers up to mid chest, he rested his arms casually atop the quilt.

Rachel stood frozen, trying with all her might to force her feet to move. She’d already disappointed him once. If she could manage to lie next to him, maybe she could salvage what was left of their first night together.

Jacob looked over at her, his face calm.

Swallowing, she crossed the room and climbed in. With a small and probably unconvincing smile, she turned her back to him and pulled the covers tightly over her shoulder and under her chin.

He blew out the lamp.

Her composure finally broke. She’d thought she could do this—that her will could override her fear—but she’d hurt Jacob’s feelings and ruined their wedding night. She held her sobs inside as tears spilled from her lids and trickled sideways down her face.

“Roll over.”

She shook her head. She was ashamed enough as it was.

“Turn and face me, Rachel. I’m not a harsh man, but I’m your husband and I expect to be obeyed. The bed is shaking. You’re either cold or you’re crying. Regardless, you will accept comfort from me.”

Jacob makes up for it, though.

Reluctantly, she did as he asked, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the dressing table mirror as she turned. Moonlight glimmered along the tracks her tears had made, turning them silver. She quickly swiped them away.

Jacob held out his arm in invitation. “Come. Put your head on my shoulder. I only wish to hold you close to my side. Nothing more.”

Rachel moved closer and eased herself into the crook of his arm. She stiffened when his forearm wrapped around her waist, but swallowed the urge to panic and reminded herself where she was and, more importantly, whom she was with. Warmth radiated from her husband’s skin, and her rigid posture began to ease.

“Would it be all right if I kissed the top of your head?”

“Yes.” At least she hoped so. After the way her traitorous body had spoiled things, she wasn’t sure of her reactions anymore.

Muscles bunched under her cheek as Jacob pressed his lips to her hair. She and Jacob both released a long breath as he relaxed against the pillow.

“This is how it will be between us,” he said, snugging his hold as if to punctuate his words. “This is your safe place. Whenever you wish, you can come to me like this, and I will comfort you. I won’t take your approach to mean anything more.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

She nodded.

His kindness pricked her heart, and tears threatened again. “I’m sorry I behaved the way I did.” She looked up at him tentatively. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I thought I could...” Her lip trembled. “I ruined our special night.”

“No, you didn’t.” He brushed a fresh tear from her cheek. “I’m honored that you agreed to marry me, and I’m pleased that you trust me enough to share my bed, even if only for sleep.”

In book four of this series, which releases soon, I dealt with another aspect of writing historicals - period correct language. It's not my first go 'round, of course, but I've never had to manage it to this degree before. The hero is half Native American, and the story is an enemies-to-lovers romance.

Many words that were common in the 1800s have become offensive by today's standards. When writing Battered Pride, I grappled with our PC culture vs my commitment to etymology. 

In the end, period correct language won. I'll include a content warning on the retail page to aid prospective readers, but I decided what's important is the main characters' attitudes by the denouement and the theme of the story.

What about you? Which way do you lean?

Appreciating vs Absconding

I Love That -- I'm Stealing It.

Have you ever read something over and over again because it's beautifully written? I have. As a writer, sometimes it's a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing.

Good thing: you're struck by the emotion or imagery it evoked, so you read it several times because you want to remember it.

Bad thing: it's lovely, but it pulls you out of the story and makes you think about that sentence or wonder about that word. Anything that makes you step out of the story and ponder whether that word is right or what the phrase means or why the character is thinking that or saying that stops your flow.

Every writer has read something and thought, I love that. I'm stealing it. Yep. Stealing is plagiarism and plagiarism is bad, bad, very bad. But that's not what most writers actually do when they "steal something." What they do -- and what I do -- is they take the inspiration and use it, giving it our own little twist.

For example, I might read a sentence such as "His gaze danced across her skin and she felt every step, every turn, and every dip." I might like that and think, I'm stealing that. Then in the book I'm writing I pen, "His sloe-eyed gaze sambaed over her face and body with a slow, sexiness that increased the tempo of her heartbeat."

It's not the same sentence, right? But it was inspired by what the other writer penned. That's what "stealing" is to most writers. What we're actually doing is writing something that was triggered by a good piece of writing composed by someone else. It's actually a compliment, even though the other writer will probably never know about it.

When you get into trouble is when you actually rip off someone's writing, word for word. There have been some famous cases of this and they're all tragic to me. Why? Because it means that writer was in such a funk that he or she deserted his/her own integrity. Often, it's a financial thing. A deadline is on them and they haven't completed the work, so they start "borrowing" plot and dialogue from someone else's work, thinking that no one will notice.

Someone always notices, though.

Be inspired by other works and use them as springboards to better prose. If you like how a scene progresses in a book, try a similar scene in your book -- without looking at the inspirational scene as you craft your own version. Looking at the other writer's scene will hamper your own creativity. It's enough to remember how you felt as you read the scene and then try to create that same feeling yourself in your own work.

"Steal" the feelings and the level of excellence, but never the actual words. 

Happy Patriot's Day!

Ben vs Brody by Jan Scarbrough

Early in BRODY, the first book of the Dawsons of Montana, the hero Brody tells the reader about his stepbrother Ben. 

Brody removed his ball cap and scraped fingers through his hair. He felt gritty and dirty from his long trip and the shock of walking in on Lori Ann and friend earlier. Now this.

 

Jim Dawson had been a good stepfather. The man had raised him from the time he and Brody’s mother married. Brody had been about ten then. That was twenty years ago. Mercer had been born six months after the wedding. He’d helped raise his little half-sister until he went off rodeoing.

 

Brody let out a slow breath to release the tension in his body. “Is Ben here?”

 

Mercer shook her head. “We haven’t gotten in touch with him. He’s working up north at that big cattle ranch. We’ve left several messages. The foreman is trying to reach him.”

 

Sounded like Bennet Dawson. Jim’s firstborn had always been a workaholic. They’d never gotten along. Ben saw Brody as an interloper, and in a way he and his mother were. The ranch land had belonged to Jim’s first wife, Bonnie Bennett Dawson. It was by rights Ben’s land. The dude ranch part was just an afterthought, and Liz’s idea to boot, making it a bigger sin in Ben’s eyes.

 

I introduced the conflict with the stepbrothers in the beginning of the series. Now it’s time to find out if the two, now grown men, can resolve their conflict.

 

BEN is the fourth book in the series. Ben has had it tough since his mom died. He’s in exile, a self-imposed one, preferring to work on a cattle ranch instead of his family land, now a dude ranch for city slickers. He and Brody had been at each other’s throats since Brody had arrived at the Bennet Ranch.

 

From the prologue that didn’t make it into the book:

 

His dad always had high expectations, and Ben had always tried to meet them. Now he was getting chewed out because of this punk kid.

 

“Pay attention,” his dad scolded. “You can be the best roper or bronc rider in the world, but if you don’t watch what you’re doing, it won’t do you any good.”

 

Brody dropped his gaze, looking contrite. “Yes, sir.”

 

Ben fumed. His insides were ragged raw with anger.

 

“Son?”

 

“Yes, sir. I get it.”

 

“Good.”

 

Ben watched his dad lope away to the head of the herd. He looked askance at Brody, hoping his furious stare sunk into the kid’s thick skull.

 

Brody shrugged. “What?”

 

“You and me will have it out someday.” Ben clucked to his horse and rode away at a trot.

 

So, I wrote three books in the Dawsons of Montana series, but the ending was missing. Brody and Ben needed to have it out. They finally did in my book BEN.

 

Brody https://books2read.com/Brody-DofM

Mercer https://books2read.com/Mercer-DofM

Liz https://books2read.com/Liz-DofM

Ben https://books2read.com/Ben-DofM

 

Winter Thrills

 

Slade’s gloved hand wrapped around the baton, gripping it for all he was worth. After their disastrous performance yesterday, they needed this win. The Olympic committee rep would be in Red Lodge next week, and Slade refused to show up empty handed. If he was serious about convincing them to add Skijoring to the winter games lineup,  he needed a seat at the table. Beating Justin Bride today would get him that seat.

He watched as the first start gate attendant tugged on the fifty foot rope. Devin had tried tying it to the rigging rings behind the saddle but both of them preferred it tied to the saddle horn—that way the friction brushed more on Devin’s leg than Bear’s hindquarters which the horse did not seem to like. With more training, he might get used to it, but for now, the saddle horn served as Slade’s anchor.

He adjusted his helmet. The second start gate attendant approached and passed him the rope. Slade’s heart kicked into a crazy rhythm as he hollered at Devin. “Go, go, go, go, go!”

wikipedia.org Leadville Skijoring

Devin kicked Bear in the flanks and the quarter horse shot forward, his bohrium tipped shoes kicking up a mash of snow and slush.

Slade allowed the tether to slide through his left hand, positioning himself near the end of the rope. Tightening his grip, it jerked taut as Bear crossed the starting line at full speed. Zero to forty miles per hour in a couple of seconds left Slade breathless and exhilarated as he started climbing the rope.

He leaned into the first turn slaloming left around the blue gate. Barely having time to straighten, he flew up the six foot ramp and caught air before smacking down on the flat straightaway. A few aggressive pulls on the rope brought him closer to Bear and to the ring that he could not miss today. The two seconds they’d lost yesterday when he dropped it had cost them the win. These teams were too good for Slade to think that penalties wouldn’t hurt him.

Like lightning, he extended the baton and focused on spearing the orange circle right through the center. The crowd on the sidewalk cheered as he got it, and he forced himself to block it out. One ring by itself meant nothing. Two more gates, two more ramps, and two more rings stood between him and a successful finish.

Slade tilted right and swished around the red gate, bending it with the edge of his skis. How many times had he visualized these moments and these moves as he’d readied himself for a comeback?

The ramp rushed up in front of him and he nailed the landing, yanking himself closer and closer to Bear’s behind. The ring whooshed onto the stick. Slade bent his arm, protecting the precious cargo as he navigated the last gate. Almost there.

Bear bounded past the final slope and Slade held on as he sailed over. Spearing the last ring, he pulled himself forward with everything he had and soared across the finish line to a blinking sixteen point one seconds on the digital time board. He’d done it. He had just beaten Justin Bride, the reining skijoring champ by one tenth of a second.

courtesy of gohebervalley.com

***

It’s no newsflash that authors are always looking for inspiration for their next story. When a friend of mine told me about western skijoring—which I had never heard of—and sent me a picture of her husband on skis behind the back of a horse, I knew I had to use it in a book. The above is an excerpt from book three in my Sweet With Sizzle Fake Series. It’s still under construction so I can’t share a release date yet, but it’s titled Fake Marriage at Snow Peak and features Slade MacIntyre as an ex-Olympic skier turned skijorer. 

As I began researching the sport, I discovered it’s been around for hundreds of years just not as a sport. It began in Scandinavia as a form of transportation. Reindeer and dogs pulled people on long skis making movement over heavy snow during the winter months much easier. Skijor literally means to ski drive. Mules, snowmobiles, cars, and planes have also since been used to tow skiers around.

While horses are used in other countries, they are often riderless. The advent of American skijoring put a rider on the horse effectively combining rodeo and extreme skiing—or in more recent years, snowboarding!

While there are several competitions scheduled in Europe in 2025, the ones that I find most interesting as fodder for my western stories are the ones that take place on the circuit of several western states and Canada. Cities throughout Utah, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado host two-day competitions January through March.

The events often feature music, food trucks, beer gardens, and hot chocolate for those die-hard fans standing around in the cold watching teams of crazed cowboys and skiers trying to outdo each other.

As small town events go, Skijoring competitions are perfect examples of community effort. Volunteers are welcome for everything from helping the designer build the track to judging the proceedings, running the starting gate, and keeping track of the various team entries.

Competitions usually have a pro level, an intermediate level, and a novice level although the number of entries and age of entrants varies from place to place. Each town creates their own track—some oval shaped, some U-shaped, some L-shaped with just one turn, and some as straightaways right down Main Street as is the case in Leadville, Colorado.

With average finish times somewhere around sixteen seconds, the races are over almost before they start. Tracks are typically six hundred to a thousand feet and boast some of the wildest winter sporting you could ever hope to see.

To learn more about skijoring, visit skijorusa.com or simply google skijoring. You will find numerous articles, pictures, and videos—some of which give you the incredible feeling that you are the skier experiencing the race.

As a final thought, if you have been following along in my Sweet With Faith Blue Sky Series, the series finale—Under the Stars is now available. Check it out on Amazon. All of my books are in KU and since the series is complete, it’s perfect for a weekend of binge reading.

Until next time, strap your skis on and hold onto your horses.

See you next month!

Ouray, Colorado ~ Julie Lence

John Wayne's Hat, courtesy Julie Lence

 On Colorado’s western slope lies the small town of Ouray. Most John Wayne buffs know Ouray and it’s surrounding areas is where True Git was filmed. On Ouray’s main street is The Outlaw, a small steakhouse the Duke frequented while filming the movie. He gifted The Outlaw the hat he wore in the movie and the owners proudly keep it on display above the bar.

courtesy Julie Lence

  A handful of miles north of Ouray is Ridgeway. This small town is home to a few more scenes from the movie and The True Grit Café, another eatery the Duke frequented. Inside The True Grit, some of the walls are lined with John Wayne and True Grit movie memorabilia. 

West of Ridgeway, the highway snakes west as it climbs in elevation, leading to the Last Dollar Ranch; a sprawling working ranch with spectacular views. Not too far past The Last Dollar Ranch is the home featured in the opening and closing scenes of True Grit (and is for sale), and past that, one can turn off the main road onto a narrow trail through and around Aspen trees that lead to the famed ski resort of Telluride, Colorado. (Hubby and I did this drive in the fall and it’s beautiful! The scenery is breathtaking, and there’s something so peaceful and humbling about stopping beneath a grove, rolling down a window and just listening to the soft rustle of leaves.)   

courtesy City of Ouray

  Though this area is perfect for John Wayne buffs (myself included), Ouray boasts other claims to fame. Sitting at 7,800 ft. in a mountain valley, the jagged rock formations on either side reaching upward between 12,000 and 13,000 feet, Ouray is nicknamed Switzerland of America. At the north end of town are the hot springs. The Million Dollar Highway is at the southern end; a paved road leading to Silverton and Durango that takes travelers over 14,000+ foot mountains. Due to its sharp switchbacks, The Million Dollar Highway is considered one of the most dangerous roads in America and one the most scenic. Ouray is also home to many creeks in and around town. 

courtesy of Julie Lence

Gold was discovered in the area in the 1870’s, hence the formation of Ouray, Silverton, Telluride and nearby Lake City as mining communities. Once not too popular in tourism, today, these four towns are crowded with people who enjoy hiking, camping, 4-wheeling and sight-seeing, and with several mountain ranges, trails and ghost towns, there is a lot to see in and around Ouray.   

If you like to get out and explore old western towns, or nature, I highly recommend Ouray. It's a quaint little town with plenty of restaurants, shops, and small hotels. The people are friendly and the scenery is breathtaking. Getting to Colorado's western slope is easy by car. If you prefer to fly, Ouray and Telluride both have very small airports. Most aircraft in and out of these towns are private planes. Up the road from Ouray is Montrose with a somewhat bigger airport, but I would check to see if commercial airlines fly in and out of there. Grand Junction is about 1 hour north of Montrose and has a bigger airport with commercial flights. The two days hubby and I spent in Ouray was perfect for driving the backgrounds and dining at the above mentioned restaurants. We skipped the Million Dollar Highway as I have been over it and didn't care to do it again, but to see or do everything, as the Black Canyon of Gunnison (think mini Grand Canyon) isn't too far away and well worth seeing, you may want stay 3-4 days in Ouray. It's an area I highly recommend, especially in the fall when the Aspens are changing color, as in the photo below. 

courtesy Julie Lence

      

      

    

Apple Pie Bites

 

It's almost apple season here in our little corner of the world. The big apple boxes are out in the orchard across the road, and I see the red globes hanging from the tree branches when I walk out to get the mail. 

Now that the smoke from summer wildfires is almost gone, we'll soon smell the unique spicy scent of apples on the morning breeze. 

September seems like a perfect time to make recipes featuring apples. 

If you like apple pie, these little Apple Pie Bites are a welcome treat!

Apple Pie Bites

Crust
1/2 cup butter
1 8 oz. pkg. cream cheese
1 cup flour

Filling
3 large Granny Smith apples
1 tbsp. cinnamon
1/3 cup flour
2/3 cup sugar

Topping
1/3 cup butter
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup flour
3/4 cup quick oats
dash of salt

Caramel Sauce (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Crust: Soften butter and cream cheese. Combine until smooth then add in flour. Continue mixing until it forms a ball. Cover with plastic wrap and set in fridge for an hour or overnight (you can also stick it in the freezer for about 30 minutes if you are pressed for time but it works better in the fridge).

Topping: Soften butter then mix with cinnamon, dash of salt, flour and oats. Stir until crumbly. Set aside.

Filling: Peel, core and slice apples into small pieces. In a heavy saucepan, stir apples with cinnamon, sugar and flour and well coated. Cook over medium heat until apples soften and the filling looks a little like caramel. As it thickens, you’ll need to stir it more frequently. The reason for precooking the apples is because the crust cooks really fast and if you put the apples into the cups uncooked, they’ll still be crunchy when the crust is long past done.

To assemble, coat mini muffin-cups with non-stick cooking spray. Remove crust from fridge and form into balls about the size of a small walnut. Use a tart tamper (coated in flour) to push the crust into the bottom and up the sides of each cup. Fill each cup with about a teaspoon of the apple filling then top with the crumb topping, pressing it down gently.

Bake for about 12 minutes until the tops are brown and juice is bubbling. Remove and serve immediately or refrigerate until ready to use. You can also freeze these.

I served mine warm with a little caramel sauce over the top. You could also add a dollop of whipping cream or a scoop of ice cream (like dulce de leche).

USA Today bestselling author Shanna Hatfield is a farm girl who loves to write. Her sweet historical and contemporary romances are filled with heart, humor, hope, and hunky heroes. When Shanna isn’t dreaming up unforgettable characters, twisting plots, or covertly seeking dark, decadent chocolate, she hangs out with her beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller. Shanna loves to hear from readers. Follow her online at:

ShannaHatfield | Facebook | Newsletter | BookBub | Pinterest | Goodreads | You Tube | Twitter

Mary E. Walker: Medal Of Honor Recipient

 

By Kristy McCaffrey 

Mary Edwards Walker was the second female doctor in American history, graduating from Syracuse Medical College in 1855. (The first was Elizabeth Blackwell six years prior, attending Geneva Medical College in Geneva, New York.) She was also the only woman to ever receive the Medal of Honor.

Dr. Mary E. Walker

Walker came from a large family of seven children. Her parents encouraged her to think freely and allowed her to dress in men’s clothing. They also believed their daughters should be equally educated alongside their sons.

After Walker graduated from medical school, she married Albert Miller, another medical student. During the ceremony she refused to “obey” her husband, wore a short skirt with trousers, and kept her maiden name. Together they began a medical practice in Rome, New York, but it failed because the public wouldn’t accept a female doctor. After a ten-year separation, Walker and Albert later divorced on the grounds of his infidelity, and she was pegged as anti-marriage and anti-family for the remainder of her life.

During the Civil War, Walker worked as an unpaid volunteer nurse for the U.S. Patent Office Hospital because she wasn’t allowed to serve as a medical officer (or a surgeon, for which she was trained) due to her gender. But finally, in 1863 her request to practice as a surgeon was accepted. She became the first female U.S. Army surgeon for the Army of the Cumberland.

U.S. postage stamp from 1982

She often crossed battle lines and in 1864 she was captured by Confederate troops as a spy. She was imprisoned for four months at the notorious Castle Thunder prison near Richmond. She was released as a part of a prisoner exchange with other medical doctors. When the war ended, she was awarded the Medal of Honor for Meritorious Service by President Andrew Johnson.

In 1916, the Medal of Honor was taken away from Walker and many others after a government review deemed them ineligible. In 1977, President Jimmy Carter legally restored the Medal of Honor to Walker’s name. She is the only woman to ever receive the award from over 3,500 recipients.

In 2024, Mary Walker was recognized on a new
U.S. quarter

Beyond her medical work, Dr. Walker espoused progressive values and viewpoints. She was an advocate for women’s rights and fought for the right to vote, as well as for the right to dress how she wished. She passed away in 1919 at the age of 86.

* * * * * * 

Kristy writes historical western romances with courageous women and the brave men who love them. Learn more about her books at her website.