The Final Stages Of Writing A Book

By Kristy McCaffrey

Last week, I was in the home stretch of editing my manuscript The Blackbird. I’d spent months writing, researching, and rewriting the story, then I sent it off to the editor. As is usual when a manuscript is returned, there were many comments and suggestions, with the bulk being fairly minor concerns. (Along with those pesky grammar issues—it seems I still don’t know how to punctuate a compound verb. Yes, we authors are always learning something new when it comes to writing skills.)

There was a bigger issue, however, in the work. The heroine and her father had a rather volatile, and, the editor felt, unforgivable, aspect to their relationship. And while she loved the hero and his role in the tale, the heroine’s actions gave her pause. I appreciated the input because sometimes the writer is simply too immersed in the work to really see the bigger picture. But I had to consider carefully how I wanted to handle any modifications since anything I changed would ripple throughout the story.

It’s always good to sleep on it before making any knee-jerk decisions. And as I’ve done many times in the past when faced with a crossroads in my work, I hoped for a bit of inspiration. I can say with confidence that 95% of the time, no magical guidance ever arrives. As an author, I’m always forced to simply make a choice about which way to go in the story. But, this time, I did receive guidance.

I’d been reading a book called Eyes of the Wild: Journeys of Transformation with the Animal Powers by Eleanor O’Hanlon. Ms. O’Hanlon is a field researcher for international conservation groups and shares her travels and experiences with animals, beginning with whales, but also including wolves, bears, and horses. That night, I read a section where she recounted the tale of Sedna, a creative power to the people of the Arctic basin.

Sedna lived with her father in a tent made of reindeer skin. Together, they followed the herds across the great tundra plain. Before her mother died, she taught Sedna many things, such how to make clothing using finely carved needles from the bones of birds and how our own bodies are only clothes that we wear for a short time, when we journey from other worlds.

Sedna grew to be a beautiful young woman. One day, a handsome stranger appeared, and he was so vivid and compelling that she decided to marry him. Her father tried to advise against it, but Sedna wouldn’t listen. She left with the man, his hair the color of a raven. Once they were alone, she came to know that he truly was a raven. In fear, she fled and called out to her father, who came to her in his boat.

As Sedna and her father attempted to leave, a great storm came upon them, and the boat began to sink. Frantic with fear, the father threw Sedna overboard in an effort to save himself. As she clung to the side, he cut her fingers one by one until she sank to the bottom. In death, she met her mother and entered a light filled with all the love she thought she’d lost.

Photo courtesy of mrpsmythopedia.wikispaces.com

Back on the surface, her father was lost in grief over what he’d done. As Sedna tried to reach him, her fingers grew back, creating the beluga whales, and the orcas, and the narwhals. All the whales sprung forth from Sedna—the grays, the humpbacks, the blues, the fins, and the bowheads. As the whale song reached Sedna’s father, he at last found peace in the grace of the giant beasts.

I had the answer for my story. I needed to redeem my heroine’s father, and once I did this, then her forgiveness would ring with far more truth. I was glad to dig a little deeper into the narrative, to find something more authentic than was previously present.

As an aside, I also decided to change a character’s name during my final proof of the story. I had an Apache woman named Bly and an old teamster called Vern Blight. Bly and Blight were so similar that I was getting confused in my last read-through. So, I did a search, and replaced ‘Bly’ with ‘Smita’. This proved to be a huge nuisance because Microsoft Word replaced other words that contained ‘bly’. ‘Possibly’ became ‘possiSmita’. ‘Understandably’ became ‘understandaSmita’. I simply couldn’t search for all the permutations, so I had to proof the entire manuscript one more time. Ack! I found many—presumaSmita, incrediSmita, and, my favorite, scramSmita.

But, I did it. The Blackbird is finished and available in digital formats. I hope you’ll check it out.

Kindle | Smashwords

(It will be available at Nook, iTunes and Kobo within a few days.)

For two years, Tess Carlisle has tried to heal the mental and physical wounds of a deadly assault by one of her papá’s men, but with no contact from Hank Carlisle since the attack, she’s determined to track him down. Her only hope is bounty hunter Cale Walker, a protégé of Hank’s and a man unlike any she has ever known. As he teaches her strength not just in body but spirit, he also makes her yearn for something she vowed she never would—love. (Rating: Steamy)

Excerpt from The Blackbird

A bit of inquiry led him (Cale) to a hovel with a dirt floor and an underlying stench of sweaty bodies. It was late afternoon, but there were already many customers, mostly Mexicanos, and they eyed him warily. He ordered a bourbon and downed whatever rotgut had been substituted in one swallow, not of a mind to argue with the man serving as a barkeep behind the wooden plank.

Cale took in the lay of the room, welcoming the distraction after spending so much time with Tess. Her emotional distance, while he understood it, irritated him.

And the fact that it bothered him only annoyed him more.

He didn't need to befriend her to find Hank. He knew that. And damn it, he could be unfeeling and detached, too.

Cale set down his glass and the barkeep refilled it. Emptying it, Cale continued this routine as Tess plagued his thoughts. The twinge of attraction that gnawed at him like a coyote chewing off his foot to escape a snare made him want to save her and run from her at the same time.

After playing cards and downing more liquor than he should've, he learned of a fella who might have a lead to Worthington. In complete darkness, he managed to find the man's adobe home near the edge of town. Just as he approached, the distinctive sound of a cane hitting the dirt echoed behind him. He spun around.

“What are doing here?” he asked Tess.

She stopped before him, out-of-breath. “Trying to find you.” Her exasperated tone and narrowed eyes clearly showed her condemnation, and he felt like a school boy caught by his teacher. He stepped back before she smelled the liquor on his breath, but it was too late.

“Are you drunk?”

She moved toward him and he could smell rose oil. Damn, she smells nice. Even in the inky night, he could see the flash of anger in her eyes. He liked it. And he found it difficult to ignore the appeal of her scent, the lush curve of her mouth, the smoothness of her skin, leading from her face to her neck to...

“Just a little,” he conceded.

“Whatever on earth for?”

“It's tough for a man traveling with a woman.”

That caused her to freeze.

Damn again. He shouldn't have said that.

“Look Tess, I didn't mean it that way. It's just been a long few days.”

She stepped back and he tried not to notice how enticing her hair looked, unbound and flowing over her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, nodding toward the dwelling.

“Following a lead on Hank.”

“Then, I'll help you.”

Cale didn't know what else to say, so he nodded. He walked to the door and knocked.

An elderly Mexican answered.

“Are you Juan?”

“Sí.”

“My name is Cale Walker, and this is Tess Carlisle.”

At that, the man peered more closely at Tess. “You Hank's girl?”

The man and Tess began conversing in Spanish. Short and wiry, gray hair sprinkled Juan’s dark hair, and deep wrinkles fanned the sides of his eyes.

“Translate please,” Cale said under his breath to Tess.

“He can show us where Henry Worthington was several months ago, in the hills to the east. Maybe Hank is with him. Juan isn’t certain.”

After more discussion, she said, “He doesn’t want money. He said Hank did a favor for him once, so he will repay his daughter. We’re to meet at the livery tomorrow morning at seven o’clock sharp.”

Juan interjected something in his native tongue.

“He says we’d better make it eight thirty,” Tess added. “You’re going to need to sleep that off.”

“I'm not drunk.”

Tess gave Cale a look that said she didn’t believe him. She shook Juan’s hand. “Gracias.”

She turned and began walking away, the cane at her side and her checkered skirt undulating around her.

Cale nodded to Juan and ran a bit to catch up to her, swaying from a bout of dizziness. “Wait for me, Tess.”

She paused. “Maybe I should let you borrow my cane.”

“No, I'll be fine. I just don't want you walking alone.”

“I came here alone.”

He fell into step beside her, focusing diligently on walking straight. “You really don't make friends easily, do you?”

“I didn't know it was important to you that we be friends.”

“Well, I don't like it when we're not getting along.”

“We've only known each other a few days, Señor Walker.”

“Now hold on.” Was he slurring his words? He couldn't be sure. “You need to call me Cale.”

“Because you call me Tess?”

“I'm supposed to call you Miss Carlisle?”

“That would be proper, wouldn't it?”

Cale laughed. “But you and I are practically related because of Hank.”

Tess stopped. “So, you see yourself as my brother?”

Hell no.

At least he had enough sense not to blurt that out.

He'd definitely had too much to drink. This rarely happened to him. He imbibed at times, but always within his boundaries.

In a flash, a hunger for this woman coursed through him. Unable to tear his gaze from hers, he wanted to set this boundary clearly. “I'm not your brother, Tess.”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak. Her momentary hesitation was all it took for Cale to know that she wasn’t immune to what was happening between them.

She knew he wanted her.

Copyright © 2015 K. McCaffrey LLC

The Grand Canyon

By Peggy L Henderson

Last month, I was on a week-long camping trip to the Grand Canyon, and missed my post. I stayed on the rim while my husband and several boyscouts backpacked into the canyon. Starting at the south rim, they covered about 50 miles in four days, hiking into the canyon, across and to the top of the north rim, then back down, across, and up the South Rim again.

This post was meant to go up last month while I was on this trip, but during the packing frenzy and getting ready, I forgot to actually hit “publish.” So, I missed my post last month, but this month, here are some interesting facts about the Grand Canyon:

1. The Grand Canyon is neither the world's longest or deepest gorge. It averages about a mile deep, and is roughly 277 miles long.

2. At its narrowest, the Grand Canyon is only 600 yards  across. At its widest, it spans 18 miles.

3. On average, the canyon is only 10 miles wide from rim to rim, but crossing by foot takes 21 miles, and driving by car is a 251-mile, five-hour trip.

4. In the 1950s, passenger flights would sometimes detour over the Grand Canyon for a better view. On June 30, 1956, two planes flying from Los Angeles to Chicago, a United Airlines DC-7 and a TWA Constellation, had both asked for permission to fly into the canyon’s air space. They collided directly over the canyon, killing everyone on board. The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) was created in 1958 as a result of the crash.

5. There are six species of rattlesnake found in the Grand Canyon, one of has a pink hue that matches the rocks found there. The Grand Canyon pink rattlesnake is the most common snake in the park.

6. The Paiute Indian tribe calls the canyon Kaibab, which means "mountain lying down" or "mountain turned upside down."

7. One-armed war veteran John Wesley Powell, who charted the Colorado River's course in 1891 and 1892 in a wooden boat, was the first to consistently use the name "Grand Canyon."

Peggy L Henderson is a laboratory technologist by night, and best-selling western historical and time travel romance author of the Yellowstone Romance Series, Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series, Teton Romance Trilogy, and Blemished Brides Western Historical Romance Series. When she’s not writing about Yellowstone, the Tetons, or the old west, she’s out hiking the trails, spending time with her family and pets, or catching up on much-needed sleep. She is happily married to her high school sweetheart. Along with her husband and two sons, she makes her home in Southern California. 

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A REVIEW WORTH POSTING AGAIN BY GINGER SIMPSON #reviews

Can you say, "duh?"  I blogged on the wrong Wednesday so since I'm off to water aerobics this morning, I quickly hunted for something worthy of a re-run that I've posted.  I read this book in 2011, and this reminded me how much I enjoyed it.

Sweet Glory by Lisa Y. Potocar

I just finished turning the last page of Sweet Glory, and I'm sad that the story ended, but elated to have had the opportunity to read such a strong, masterful accounting of female bravery during the Civil War.  The amount of research time the author spent before embarking on writing is amply displayed, both in the accuracy of her facts and the acknowledgments she shares.  This book placed first in the 'Young Adult' category of the 2009 Maryland Writers' and SouthWest Writers' contests, and although I'm far from that targeted age group, I can't imagine being more engaged in an historical novel.  Ms. Potocar has created a fabulous way to teach our youngsters about an important period of history while making them feel as though they've experienced the journey personally. 

Jana Brady drags her feet at her parents' suggestion that she become a lady, but when it comes to standing up for her country, she can't restrain her eagerness.  Running away from home, cutting her hair, and dressed as a boy, Jana joins the Union army, the only way she knows to fight for the rights she cherishes.  When she meets up with another young woman, Leanne Perham, who has joined under the same disguise, they assume the names of Leander and Johnnie.

Secondary characters, Keeley, a handsome Irishman, and twelve-year-old Charlie, who lied about his age to join the unit to support his Ma, join Johnnie and Leander in forging a friendship that sees them through troubled times.  Though Charlie is eventually transferred to a safer environment, working in a hospital, Keeley is captured and Johnnie is determined to free the man she's come to love.  While trying, she's taken prisoner, is sentenced to death, and her true gender is revealed.

The descriptions in this book are amazingly real and emotional.  I love a novel that puts me in the characters shoes, or in this case, boots, and lets me see the story through the roleplayer's eyes.  Sweet Glory certainly did that for me.  I cried at the misery, pain and suffering and laughed with joy of discovery, love, and hope.  The breeze caressed my cheeks, the honeysuckle pleased my senses and dimmed the stench of blood and rotting limbs in the crowded hospital tents right before the hangman's noose chafed my throat.  You must experience this story for yourself and present it to a young adult so they can see for themselves the difference between telling and showing a story.  Kudos Lisa Potocar, you've written something wonderful.

Treat yourself to a copy of this book at Tate Publishing.  If you write Christian-based novels and are looking for a publishing, you might want to check this one out.

FACTS LEAD TO FICTION ABOUT TEXAS COAL MINE

As writers know, the more books you've written, the more difficult finding a fresh story twist idea becomes. Which is why in my work in progress, my ranch hand hero goes undercover in a lignite coal mine to earn money to buy his own ranch. This required research into coal mining in 1885 Central Texas—fascinating in some areas and not so much in others.

I was aware of the large coal mine at Thurber in Erath County in North Central Texas and nearby smaller mines in Palo Pinto County. Thurber’s location is too far from this hero’s home base. With research, I found the perfect place, the town of Coal, Texas southwest of San Antonio. In my story, the town is called Lignite after the type of coal mined there. Also in my story, someone is causing deadly “accidents” at the mine and the owner wants to determine who is guilty. For this, he hires my hero, Finn O’Neill.

Finn O'Neill, hero

The beauty of changing the name of the town in fiction is that the town can then have whatever buildings I choose and/or need for the plot. Instead of Lytle, in my book the next town is Spencer for the same reason. That’s one of the fun things about writing historical fiction. The author is free to build the setting and only has to be true to the period in customs and dress. I love making up my stories and their settings and I hope you enjoy reading them!

The actual town of Coal was on U.S. Highway 81 and the Missouri Pacific line in southeastern Medina County. Coal mines, worked by as many as 500 people at a time, precipitated the growth of mining camps in the 1880s. In 1881 the International-Great Northern Railroad built a rail line from Austin to Laredo that passed through Lytle southwest of San Antonio.

The community of Coal developed on this line a mile southwest of Lytle and just north of the mining camps. The high-grade lignite produced at the mines was sold to the railroads until the advent of oil-burning locomotives. In 1888 Coal consisted of a store, a bandstand, a main plaza, a dance hall, a Catholic church, and at least two schools. Hmmm, in my story, Lignite has a store, both a Catholic and a Protestant church, and one two-room school where the heroine and her sister teach.

Heroine Stella Grace Clayton

Lignite, often referred to as brown coal, is a soft brown combustible sedimentary rock that is formed from naturally compressed peat. It is considered the lowest rank of coal due to its relatively low heat content. It is used almost exclusively as a fuel for steam-electric power generation, but is also mined for its germanium content in China.

Lignite has a high content of volatile matter which makes it easier to convert into gas and liquid petroleum products than higher ranking coals. Unfortunately its high moisture content and susceptibility to spontaneous combustion can cause problems in transportation and storage. The efficient processes that remove latent moisture locked within the structure of brown coal will relegate the risk of spontaneous combustion to the same level as black coal, will transform the calorific value of brown coal to a black coal equivalent fuel while significantly reducing the emissions profile of 'densified' brown coal to a level similar to or better than most black coals.

Lignite can be separated into two types. The first is xyloid lignite or fossil wood and the second form is the compact lignite or perfect lignite. Although xyloid lignite may sometimes have the tenacity and the appearance of ordinary wood it can be seen that the combustible woody tissue has experienced a great modification. Dark black lignite, or jet, is where the term 'jet black' originates.

Gated adit mine

Although later lignite mines were those defacing strip mines, at the time of my story, they were slant/adit mines with tunnels underground. Better for the environment, but not for the miners.

By the 1940s my model for Lignite, Coal, consisted of a Catholic church and several dwellings, situated mostly north of the railroad tracks. Lytle annexed Coal Mine in 1969, and there were about 100 people living at the Coal Mine site in 1983.

Caroline Clemmons writes western historical and contemporary romances. Her latest release is WINTER BRIDE. The book containing Lignite, Texas is O’NEILL’S TEXAS BRIDE, and will be released mid-May 2015. You can keep up with Caroline’s releases by signing up for her newsletter. Her books are listed on her website at www.carolineclemmons.com and on her Amazon Author Page.   

How the West Was Fun

 By Alison Bruce

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I'm not sure where that puts parody, but you can't effectively poke fun at something unless you know it well and the best parody artists know and love their sources.

One of my favourite comic westerns is Blazing Saddles. In true Mel Brooks fashion, it goes over the top in poking fun at the western genre... and a few others in the process.

Blazing Saddles also tops the list of the top twenty western comedies compiled by Most Wanted Western Movies (rated by YouTube hits). With one exception, their top five match mine. (I haven't seen Destry Rides Again yet)

1. Blazing Saddles – (1974)
Gene Wilder, Madeline Kahn and Harvey Korman in one movie. That's a hat trick for me.

2. Support Your Local Sheriff – (1969)
 This was one of those movies my father could watch over and over. Every time he did, I'd stop what I was doing and watch it with him.

3. Destry Rides Again -(1939)
 I haven't seen it, but I took a look at the summary and it bears a passing resemblance to the plot of Blazing Saddles... which means Mel Brooks "borrowed" it. (As he borrowed the Bugs Bunny-style voice from Mel Blanc.)

4. Cat Ballou -(1965)
This one might tie for second place on my list. I love Lee Marvin as the drunken gunfighter. Another Lee Marvin movie made the list: Paint Your Wagon. I only saw it once, decades ago but I still remember the theme song.

5. Maverick – (1994)
 I used to watch the original series with my father. He loved James Garner - which is why one of his other favourite shows was Rockford Files. He wasn't that crazy about the movie but I thought it did justice to the cleverness and fun of the old show.

Comic strips, movies, TV shows... Does anyone remember F-Troop? And then there's the cat herding commercial. Gotta love it.

Imagine Life Without All Those Modern Conveniences by Ginger Simpson

Imagine, if you can, living without all the conveniences you've come to expect.  Picture this:

You need something from the store, so you jet out to the garage and find a horse and wagon.  Instead of jumping into an air-conditioned or heated vehicle, putting it in gear, and making a quick jaunt to the store, you have to hitch up the horse, climb aboard the wagon, and head off for the nearest "mercantile," which is probably a day's ride away on a bumpy dirt trail.  No listening to a radio or adjusting your seat for comfort.  :)

Of course, the wind and sun can dry your hair if need be, because you won't have a blow dryer on hand.  I hope you have curly hair, since you also will be missing that curling iron you've come to depend upon.  Don't worry though...you'll most likely have some rags on hand to tie your hair into curls when you get home.

T-Shirt and yoga pants?  Uh uh.  This ain't a Walmart you're headin' to.  You'll have to dress appropriately before you go.  That means an early rise because depending on the weather, you'll want to beat the heat, and since you'll have to don your corset, petticoats and dress, getting ready takes a little longer than you're used too. 

 The old west would be right in sync now since panty hose wouldn't be an option.  Be prepared to put on those long stockings of yore and then find your button hook to fasten your shoes/boots.  AND...if you care about your complexion, you'll not forget your bonnet.  Remember, this is not your usual convertible.  *lol*

All the conveniences time has given us weren't available a century or more ago.  Cars, highways, tunnels through mountains, safe enclosure from the weather, stores that had carts to push and aisles to meander through, and the computer I'm typing on right now weren't even a glimmer on the horizon.  Well, perhaps the car was. 

Once in the mercantile, you'll just step up to the counter and request all the goods you want.  If you're lucky, you'll just have a running tab. I'm pretty sure they didn't have grocery bags back then, so imagine carrying out 5 pounds of flour, sugar, a bunch of jars and some salt pork the clerk managed to wrap for you.  Ah, you'll miss those Walmart days.  :)

Note:  All these images were "borrowed" from Google Images.  If they are subject to Copyright, I'm sure I'll hear and prompty remove them.  :)

If you want a peek into what is would be like without all your conveniences...you might be interested in Time-Tantrums.  (Note:  Previously published as Sisters in Time.) The story is about a pioneer woman and a modern day female attorney who switch places and time.  While one is terribly upset, the other is thoroughly amazed.  You can find the book on Amazon.

Cover by Michele Lee

Undergarments...

Oh, yes, they’ve changed over the years! 

Lets take a look at a few....

A chemise—could also be called a shift, an under-gown, or smock, depending on the period. They were of varied length, most common were either knee or ankle lengths. Could be sleeveless, or have short or mid-length sleeves, depending on the garments they were made to wear beneath. Also, dependent upon the season, they could be made of various cloth, light for warmer weather and heavier materials for the winter months.  

A chemisette was much like a sleeveless 'false shirt', however another version was much more like a camisole, usually waist-length, and often was gathered (had a string tie) a couple of inches above the hem. Dependent upon the style of dress, a chemisette could be mid-thigh length. Shorter and loose flowing ones with matching ‘tap’ pants, often made of cotton and silks, became the ‘underwear’ for women in the 1920’s. These are what gradually evolved into bras and panties.

Corset (also called stays) came in various styles and lengths. Their purpose was to ‘shape the body’, mainly make the waist smaller and the hips more prominent. They often flattened the breasts rather than enhanced them. The sleeveless waistcoats of the 1700’s look a lot like corsets, but were worn as an outer or top layer rather than underclothes.

Bum-roll was just that—a padded roll of material to make the hips wider. So was a farthingale, which often had wire stays making sitting almost impossible. A bustle, worn beneath the dress to enhance the backside, was again a padded pillow of material and tied around the waist.

Pantaloons and drawers (men’s versions were also referred to as drawers) were crotch-less and very loose fitting. Pantaloons would have a ruffle near the ankles that could be seen beneath the skirt. Drawers would have ties near the knees.
 

Slips and petticoats were worn beneath the dresses to add volume and hold the shape of the skirt. Hooped skirts/slips, had wire sewn in them, which again, made sitting rather impossible.

Men had braies, and drawers. Braies were little more than lengths of fabric pulled up between the legs and tied around the waist. Later ones had waist band and ties in the front. Drawers were usually knee length and tied at the waist.

Like the bustles and bum-rolls, men had things to enhance their bodies too. Cod-pieces had padding and tied around the waist, and calf-pads were strapped around their legs to make their calves look more muscular.

Union suits were both long and short. The top and bottoms were connected. It was during the 1920’s that the two became ‘disconnected’ and men started wearing garments closer to T-shirts and briefs.  

Just a note....there were many variations to all of the above! 

Cheers!
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