Seeing Woody's in Halifax by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

I'm in Halifax! This weekend I have a book fair, and so since the situation is outside my home province, me and two gal friends have decided a ladies night was in order.

Now... We are all mom's in our 30s, so the first stop was Ikea. After hours there, it was the mall to see this!

It's woody the talking xmas tree! It's as scary as it seems and I love it!

Next was eating, hot tub and nails.

It was perfect. But because my nails look like this now:

I can't type well. So this will be a short post. Sorry... I'm already dreading putting on pants tomorrow... So this is hard for me too.

Here's a poem for you in apology.

I bought a new lamp

It's great and it's damp

With lava and green

Like beetlejuice.

Im not a poet, so here's a picture instead.

Cheers!

A Writer's Melting Pot by Victoria Chatham

 AVAILABLE HERE

Beginning a new book is always an exciting project for me. There are places to research, houses to build, characters to create and plots to devise, all or some of which may eventually find their way onto my pages. 

I start with my characters, getting to know them as I build their backstories, their life histories with all their strengths and weaknesses, failures and successes. Whether I am writing historical or contemporary Western romance, my character questionnaire follows the same pattern. The characters have to reflect their era, so I'm careful about naming them, and if I'm writing a Regency romance, then I have to make sure my characters' titles are correct.

Next, I work on my settings, the stage on which my characters perform. My Regencies have a mix of city and rural settings because the peerage split their time between London, for when Parliament was in session, and their country estates when it adjourned. The busiest time, known as the Season, was between Easter and when the House adjourned in July. By then, most people were keen to get out of town because of the smell.

Country estates are lovely to create, and many of my imaginary ones come from illustrations in books like Country Houses From the Air or The English Country House and the very useful Georgian and Regency Houses Explained. I have floor plans for country houses and smaller but no less impressive townhouses. From there, I can create my settings with a measure of accuracy and viability. What might be included on any of these estates as far as farms and crops are concerned, are all gleaned from internet searches for letters and records of the big houses, some of them going back hundreds of years, and depend on what part of the country (being England, Scotland, or Wales) the estate is. Building styles change somewhat from county to county depending on what materials are available or how wealthy the lord of the manor might be.

Weather, with all the light and shade that comes with it, plays a part in my settings, too. For information

on a particular year, I start with a visit to https://premium.weatherweb.net/weather-in-history, and to pin-point a timeline for where my characters are, I consult https://www.timeanddate.com/calendar/?year=1818&country=9. The weather can affect so many aspects of my character’s mood. If it’s warm and sunny, then likely she is too. If it’s raining, all sorts of events can transpire from that. Think Marianne Dashwood getting soaked in the rain in Sense and Sensibility. Rain heralded my hero’s arrival in Folkestone in my book His Dark Enchantress. It fit his mood and the seriousness of the situation in which his wife, my heroine, had been abducted.

Plants and flowers play a part, too, and for this, I use a Reader’s Digest book of English flora, plus Culpeper’s Complete Herbal. It pays to know what plants grow in which part of the country because someone will surely call you out if have a daffodil growing where it never would or a lark singing in central London as this is a bird that likes open countryside.

How I dress my characters also comes into play, and for this, I use an Illustrated Encyclopedia of Costume, Fashion in Jane Austen’s London and just because, The History of Underclothes. When I go home to the UK for a visit, I'll go to museums. One of my favourites is the Costume Museum in Bath. YouTube can be particularly useful, especially clips like Undressing Mr. Darcy. I guess I’m a bit of a nerd because I do enjoy research, and if I come across a particularly interesting snippet, it makes my day. Whether I can use it or not in a book becomes another matter altogether.

I'm fortunate to live in Alberta, Canada. Touring the Rockies, visiting small towns and their museums, and going to rodeos have all helped with my Western settings. It's said a picture is worth a thousand words, and I have many photographs of mountains and rivers, open prairie and dusty badlands. I've interviewed cowboys and stock contractors and once spent a day on a working ranch where the owner was quite shocked to hear that I had never seen a moose. "There was one down in the muskeg this morning," he said. So off we went in a well-worn pick-up truck to find the moose. After driving around for an hour, there was no sign of said moose, so we looked at some of his stock and went back to the ranch house for coffee.

Most authors are people watchers, but in addition to watching, I like talking to them, too. You never know what might come up in conversation. Someone might throw away a line that you know you just have to fit into your dialogue somewhere, as in Legacy of Love, where one cowboy asks, "Are you being straight with me?" and the answer is "straighter than a yard of pump water." Writing is a joy and a challenge, sometimes a frustration, but never, ever, boring as all the elements that make a story come together in the melting pot of this author's mind. Oh, and the new book? Look out for Loving Georgia Caldwell coming this fall.

Victoria Chatham

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Releasing and Promoting a Book by Victoria Chatham

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A major part of releasing a book is to promote it and then promote it more. I was happy to recently showcase Brides of Banff Springs and the Canadian Historical Brides Collection at Olds Municipal Library. When I contacted the Librarian about a booking, she was excited to offer me a date, which we arranged over the phone. We decided to have a meet and greet in the afternoon for people who might not be able to attend the evening reading and book signing session. This worked out very well as a lovely lady called Catherine came to meet me and told me that her mother had been the head housekeeper at Banff Springs Hotel. It was her job to open it up every spring along with the hotels at Lake Louise and Fairmount. I can't even begin to imagine how big a job that would have been. This lady also met King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (the late Queen's mother) when they visited Canada in 1939 and received a commemorative silver powder compact. I would love to have seen it, but I understood why Catherine wanted to keep it safe at home. Another young lady, who had already read the book, said her first job was in housekeeping at the hotel, and she could easily identify with Tilly, the heroine.

My table for the afternoon session was just inside the main entrance, so it was easy to talk to people as they came and went. Just in case a little extra is needed, a bowl of candies or quality chocolate is a good way to get people talking, and many admired the gift basket. The framed poster listing all the Historical Bride books also drew a lot of attention, with many visitors saying they did not know much of Canada's early history.

Nicole Peers, the Librarian, was not sure of numbers for the evening reading, but as people began to arrive, she quickly found more chairs to seat them. Before I started the reading, I presented Nicole with the gift basket, a thank-you to her and the staff for hosting me.

 

My author tagline is History, Mystery, and Love, so I picked three appropriate passages and read a bit of the history of Banff, the beginning of the mystery concerning the ghost bride and finally, the scene where the hero asks the heroine to marry him. The audience response was encouraging, with still more people wanting to talk afterwards about their experiences with Banff, having lived or worked there or been constant visitors. The funding from the Government of Canada helped make this a fun, exciting evening. Nicole said it was one of the best author evenings the Library had hosted, and I was only too happy to have been a part of it.

The first two images are from the author's collection.

The last two images are courtesy of  Ayesha Clough, Red Barn Books.

Victoria Chatham

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Seasons and Stories by Victoria Chatham

 

COMING IN JUNE

It is now officially Spring 2022. In my part of the world, it still doesn’t feel like it. I envy friends in England who have posted pictures of gardens full of colour, from gorgeous golden daffodils to blue grape hyacinths and multi-coloured primulas. I wonder how many authors use not just the weather the seasons in creating their settings.

April has a hopeful sense of the summer to come, but Charles Dickens writes: Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade, which speaks to the duality in this more than any other season of the year.

Writers look for ways to enhance the drama in their plots and the nuances of their characters, either physically or metaphorically. Just as we sometimes use the weather to create a mood or direct the way a scene goes, we can use the seasons in both our settings and in our characters’ perspectives.

I have certainly used the seasons in my books. My character, Emmaline, is abducted on a perfect September afternoon in my first Regency romance. By the time she is rescued and returns home, it is a whole month later, and the trees in the estate park have already turned colour.

In the second Regency, a lot of the book takes place at sea and in Jamaica, but Juliana calculates that she left England in January, and it’s now September. The seasons are not plot lines in either book, but more indicate the timeline.

In One for the Money, Janet Evanovich uses the season to describe Stephanie Plum’s New Jersey ‘hood: During summer months, the air sat still and gauzy, leaden with humidity, saturated with hydrocarbons. It shimmered over hot cement and melted road tar.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling writes of fall: Autumn seemed to arrive early that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and golden as an apple.

In the movie The Winter Guest, set in northern Scotland, the husband of Emma Thompson’s character Frances dies suddenly, leaving Frances distraught. Her mother (in real life and in the movie), played by Phyllida Law, comes to stay with her. The film opens with a shot of the mother walking across frozen fields and with the camera later panning across a frozen sea. Set in any other season but winter, I’m not sure that Frances’ grief would have seemed so soul-deep. The bleakness of the setting seemed to represent the bleakness in her soul and vice versa.

Just as light and shade, time of day, rain or sunshine influence the moods we try to create for our characters, so can the season lead our readers through the seasons of our stories.

Victoria Chatham

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For the Love of Reading by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Every loyal member of Goodreads knows they are encouraged to set a reading challenge for themselves at the beginning of each year. The challenge is to set a goal for the number of books to be read by the end of the year. Members can keep track by adding each new book they begin to their homepage and marking it completed when finished. The website keeps count of the total as well as tracking how many books the reader is ahead of or behind schedule.

I am a voracious reader, but before I started using Goodreads regularly I had no idea how many books I read in a year other than "a lot." January 1, 2021 was the first time I set a goal. Having no clue about the amount of books I could complete by December 31st I chose a random number - 60. I figured it was possible for me to read that many books in a year and I was curious to see how many I actually do read.

I noticed that many GR members had set goals of 100 or more, but though I'm an avid reader, I am not a fast reader and figured I wouldn't be able to finish that many. I enjoy reading far too much to speed through a book. I prefer to savor them. I was pleasantly surprised then, when I surpassed my goal of 60 books long before the end of the year. My final total was 83.

This year I've set my sights higher. My goal is 90. As of right now, I've completed four books and am two books behind schedule. No worries, though. I was many more books behind schedule at the start of last year and look where I wound up! Reaching 90 books just means I read a few more this year than last year. I refuse to speed up my reading just to reach this goal, though. Reading is one of the greatest pleasures in my life. It is not meant to be rushed. At least not for me.

I do tend to be competitive with myself, however so I know I'm going to want to hit that 90 book goal. Fortunately, there are no restrictions on what I read so if I fall too far behind by the end of the year - hello children's picture books! But I'm hoping I won't need to do that.

A Short Story for Christmas by Victoria Chatham

 

All That Other Stuff

Ellie Harding rested her chin on her hand and stared out of the window across the valley, relaxing as she always did at the sight of the tall spire of the parish church surrounded by cozy-looking cottages nestling under their Cotswold stone roofs.

Her daughter-in-law, Lori, came in from the garden balancing a wicker laundry basket on her hip.

“I will be glad when Christmas is over.” Lori heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s nothing but rush and fuss, and no one is ever satisfied. One week left, and I still have to mail cards, shop, clean and for what? Just one day. And as for peace and goodwill, hark at that lot.”

Sounds of discontent burst from the living room where twelve-year-old Matthew and eight-year-old twins, Molly and Hannah, were arguing over television programs.

“And not only that,” Lori continued, “David is due home from Singapore on December 22^nd, and,” she paused for breath, “Mother and Dad are arriving the same day.”

“As David has been away for almost six months, isn’t that a bit inconsiderate of them?” Ellie murmured. She tried to keep the tone of censure out of her voice, but her brow puckered as an additional thought sprang to her mind. “I thought your parents were spending Christmas in Germany with your Aunt Sophie.”

Lori snapped a tea towel, making it sound like a flag in a strong wind. She folded it in half, smoothed it out with the flat of her hand, folded it again and added it to the growing pile of clean laundry on the kitchen counter.

“They were, but Mother fell out with Aunt Sophie over goodness-knows-what and decided she and Dad would come here,” Lori explained. “Oh, Ellie, what am I going to do?”

“We’ll have a cup of tea, dear.” Ellie, a staunch supporter of that particular beverage’s restorative properties, thoughtfully put the kettle on. As it came to the boil, her eyes began to sparkle with mischief.

“Park everybody,” she said suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Lori asked, plainly puzzled.

“I’ll take the children,” Ellie said. “That should give you time for everything you need to do. Book your parents into a hotel and yourself and David into another. That will give you one day to yourselves, and then on Christmas Eve, you can all come to my house.”

Lori’s eyes opened wide. “But I couldn’t⸺.”

“Yes, you could. Don’t think about it, dear, just do it.”

Between them, Ellie and Lori helped the children pack and loaded them and their backpacks into Ellie’s battered blue Audi. Matthew sat silently beside her on the drive out of town, plainly not in agreement with the plan.

“What are we going to do at your house, Gran?” Molly asked. “You don’t even have a TV.”

“I’m sure we can find something to do,” Ellie replied, keeping her eyes on the narrow, two-lane road where she had to stop for a flock of sheep passing from one pasture to another.

“We could do a nativity play,” Hannah said as she watched the woolly bodies crowd either side of the car.

“There’s only three of us, and we already did that at school.” Matthew sounded glum at the prospect.

“Yes, but did you design and make your costumes?” Ellie asked.

“Well, no,” Matthew admitted. “We just used the ones from last year.”

“Ooh, Gran, can I make a crown with sparkles on it?” Despite being restrained by her seat belt, Hannah bounced on the back seat with excitement.

“I’m sure we could arrange that, dear. You three will be the Wise Men, and everyone else can be shepherds.”

“And you have to be the angel, Gran,” chorused Molly and Hannah.

“Can we invite friends from school?” Matthew asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Ellie drove through her gateway, minus its gate, and pulled up in front of a solidly built ivy-covered stone house. “Who would you like to invite?”

“Well, Jamal, because he was new to our school this term and doesn’t know many kids yet and Oliver because he doesn’t have a dad.”

“And can we invite other people too?” the twins asked in unison.

“Yes, you can,” Ellie assured them. “Two friends each. The more the merrier, don’t you think?”

“Then I’ll ask Yasmeen and Adeera,” Hanah said. “I hope their parents will let them come.”

“Yes, and Susan Howell and Dawn Fry,” Molly added. Hannah nodded her agreement.

Ellie parked the car, and the children poured out of it and in through the front door. They hung their coats on pegs in the hallway and deposited their backpacks at the foot of the stairs.

“We’ll have hot chocolate with marshmallows,” Ellis said as she headed to the large kitchen at the back of the house. “While I make it, you can start designing your costumes.”

She took sheets of paper and coloured pencils from a drawer and put them in the table’s centre. In no time, the girls sketched outfits for the shepherds while Matthew, now warming up to the idea, designed crowns for the Three Wise Men.

Over the next two days, Ellie produced lengths of fabric, sheets of art paper, fancy buttons, glue and glitters, rolls of florists wire and strands of ribbon. On a brisk afternoon walk, with a light wind gusting from the south-west blowing the clouds inland over the hills, they collected sheep’s wool from the barbed wire fencing around their field.

“This will make the beards for the Wise Men,” Ellie said as she held out a plastic bag for the children to fill with wool.

“How?” asked Matthew.

“We’ll cut lengths of cotton fabric and stick the wool to it, leaving a gap for your mouths,” Ellie said. “Then we’ll cut lengths of elastic so that it fits your heads, sew the ends to each side of the fabric, and you can just slip them on.”

“That sounds pretty easy,” Matthew said. “I say, Gran, can I be in charge of the costumes?”

“You certainly can, dear,” Ellie agreed.

Her angel wings fitting filled an entire afternoon with the children measuring wire and fabric and calculating the best way to affix them to Ellie’s back.

“Donny Williams sat on Carrie Davis’s wings in class and broke them,” Hannah told her.

“Yes, and she cried,” Molly added.

“Well, after all this work, we’ll have to make sure we hang my wings where no one can sit on them,” Ellie said.

Together they draped and stitched fabric and, once all the costumes were made, Ellie sat the children around the table again and helped them write their invitations. Molly and Hannah decorated theirs with sparkles, both sure the recipients would be pleased with them.

The invitations were hand-delivered and, when Christmas Eve finally arrived, so did the rest of the family and all the guests, including Yasmeen and Adeera’s parents. After a happy and noisy reunion with their father, Matthew, Molly, and Hannah helped everyone into their costumes. Ellie couldn’t help but notice that Lori’s parents, Margaret and Richard, looked somewhat bemused to find themselves clad in tunics made from old bedsheets and cinched around the waist with frayed scarlet cords from thrift store velvet curtains. When everyone was dressed, Ellie clapped her hands, which made her wings wobble frantically.

“Quiet everyone,” she said. “Now, who can tell me what the Three Wise Men did?”

“Oh, Gran, I know, I know!” Hannah’s hand shot up as if she were answering questions in school. “They followed the star.”

“Indeed, they did.” Ellie nodded sagely. “Now, come this way.”

She took everyone outside and then clapped her hands again. From the dark at the bottom of the garden, a bright white light appeared amongst the old and gnarled apple trees. Its silvery glow illuminated the whole area. She watched the children’s eyes open wide in wonder and smiled as they stopped, in total astonishment, at the edge of the lawn.

There, its legs folded neatly beneath it, sat a camel. It turned its head towards them and looked at them from liquid-dark eyes from beneath long lashes. A small tubby man, sporting a large moustache and wearing a red fez, stood beside it.

“This is Fred,” Ellie said. “And this,” she patted the camel’s sinuously graceful neck, “is Harun.”

Margaret sniffed. “Don’t expect me to get on that filthy beast.”

Ellie hid a smile as she heard Richard say, “Don’t worry, Mags, only the Wise Men rode camels. You’re a shepherd. Here, hang onto your crook.”

Fred helped the children onto the saddle, showing them where to put their feet and where to hold on as Harun stood up. His spongy feet made no sound as he lurched and swayed across the winter-damp grass.

“Mother, how on earth did you manage that?” David asked as he caught up with her.

Ellie patted the hand he slipped into the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, a phone call here and a favour there,” she said casually. She clapped her hands once more, and the light in the trees winked out before appearing again further away in the paddock next to her garden.

“It’s over Mr. Donovan’s stable now.” Molly couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice as she pointed over a gate set in the hedge.

Mr. Donovan, as bent and twisted as Ellie’s old apple trees, smiled at them as he opened the gate and ushered them all through it. The little procession, at last, came to a halt outside the stable. Harun obligingly collapsed his legs, and Molly, Hannah, and Matthew all but fell off him in their eagerness for what they might see. They pulled their friends forward with them, and all peered in at the stable door.

The sweet smell of hay assaulted their nostrils, and they heard the rustling of straw as they looked in on a cow contentedly chewing her cud, a donkey who flicked his long, fuzzy ears at them, and a ewe with twin lambs. A young woman wearing a blue robe smiled a welcome and invited them to sit on some straw bales placed in readiness for the visitors. Beside her, a tall, bearded man wearing a brown cloak welcomed everyone. Between them, laid in a wooden crib, a baby kicked its feet and gurgled happily.

“Oh, Gran, this is magic,” Molly whispered. She went to the crib and knelt beside it, staring down at the baby as if she couldn’t quite believe it was there. Hannah, Matthew, and their friends were more interested in the animals.

“Well, Ellie, I think you have surpassed yourself,” Richard said, still looking around and taking in every little detail with an expression of wonderment on his face. Even Margaret seemed suitably impressed.

“This is so cool, Gran.” Hannah looked up from the lamb she cuddled while Matthew and Jamal petted the donkey.

Matthew’s eyes opened wide as a thought struck him. “Christmas isn’t about what things we get, or what food we have. It’s all that other stuff, isn’t it, Gran?” His pre-teen voice had a croak in it.

Ellie nodded, adding softly, “That’s right, Matthew. It’s all that other stuff. Christmas is for loving and caring, sharing and,” she looked at Lori, “peace and goodwill.”

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​Victoria Chatham

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Clearly Working by Eileen O'Finlan

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My friend and fellow author, Jane Willan, has been renting office space at a place called Clearly Coworking to get away from all distractions so she could finish her lastest cozy mystery. Clearly Coworking offers multiple shared desk space as well as private offices and conference rooms. Mostly rented by people who would otherwise work from home, but who want to get away from distractions, it's a perfect space for professionals who need an office away from home. As it turns out, it's also a great place for writers to find a place of their own.

Jane became so enamored of the place that she got me a day pass, so I spent one Friday with her. It's only a few minutes from my house so I loved the convenience of it. When she told me the address, I also realized that it was formerly a funeral home so, of course I had to ask if it was haunted. Apparently, not. Oh well.

Interior of Clearly Coworking in Worcester, Massachusetts

We had the place mostly to ourselves as Covid has returned most of the renters to their homes. In fact, so many have pulled out that the owner has had to sell. It closed for good as Clearly Coworking on July 31st. Because it was closing, the owner generously allowed Jane to invite me to come write with her every day of the final week of July for free. It was fantastic! We spent the first part of the day writing, then around 2:00 we'd email what we'd written to each other. After reading, we'd go into one of the small conference rooms and critique each other's work. Lunch was another fun part of the day as we spent it chatting about various aspects of writing, marketing, and publishing. We also helped each other work out unruly plot lines or come up with that one missing piece that would make the story work.

I was there just long enough to fall in love with the place as well as the concept. With a full-time job, renting office space is neither affordable nor sensible for me since I wouldn't get much time to use it. However, I did come to find out a couple of very important facts:

 

1.) I could easily spend eight hours a day, every day writing and be quite happy. I am more convinced than ever that writing is my calling and that working towards becoming a full-time writer is my main goal.

2.) Having another writer as critique partner and brainstorming mate is immensely helpful.

I had already sensed both of those things to be true, but this experience cemented them for me.

Now that Clearly Coworking has closed, what will we do? Well, Jane has found another place in downtown Worcester called Idealab. She's already secured her spot. As for me, I decided to make my den/guest room into a home office/writing room. It took nearly two full days to get it set up to my liking, but now that it's done, I am enjoying the heck out of it. I used to write where ever I found a spot to set up my laptop. Now that I have a dedicated space, I've got that "room of one's own" feel and I am loving it.

As for mutual critiquing and brainstorming, Jane and I continuing to email our work to each other and meet on Zoom. Once the pandemic is finally a memory, we'll get together in person often for the same purposes. Best of all, we'll be able to reschedule the half vacation - half writing retreat trip to Vermont we were planning for this summer. Only the end of COVID-19 will dictate when that will happen, but when it does, I'll be sure to chronicle it in this blog.

Guess Who Brought Home a New Puppy? by Connie Vines

Yes, it was I! 

As most of my readers know (via my Blog posts, Twitter, and Instagram feeds), I have a 4-year-old Poodle-Caviler King Charles Spaniel mix, named Chanel.

Her 4th B-Day Pic

We are best buddies.   I run my plot-lines and dialogue past her.  She smiles and gives me that, "I love it!" look. 

She has her beds, toys, and routine. She carries her favorite toys in my office to play with while I write.  Life is good.

But something is missing. 

I'm on dead-line (always) and working on multiple novels and stories (no change here), however, there was one major change in my routine.  This summer I retired from the field of education. 

Wow!  I am no longer forced write from 9 PM to 1:00 AM.  I can actually write during the daylight hours every week day.

Sidebar:  So, for the past several months I've been keeping an eye-out for a suitable dog-friend for both of us.  With the stay-home order, the task has required a little-jumping-through-hoops.  (Probably a little like an online dating app.)  Search the Humane Society/Shelter postings, daily.  Make phone calls (because there is a phone interview and then a scheduled meet-and-greet).  Send follow-up emails.  After several not-a-good-fit meets, I spied a l year old, 14 lb Westie Terrier Mix who was brought in as a stray and listed on Adopt-a-Pet.

I completed the paperwork/ had a phone interview' and went down to meet him at the Rancho Cucamonga Animal Shelter. I loved him, he loved me (I loved him more because he was completely potty-trained).  So, Chanel had her own appointment with him at 2:00 PM.  He followed her around.  She eyed-him (he was scruffy looking and not up to her grooming standards) but he met with everyone's approval. I christened him with a nice Scottish name:  Gavin.

Gavin before grooming

Gavin groomed

Gavin and Chanel are adjusting to each other. Gavin is still wearing his Elizabethan collar and bumps into everything and everyone. He has kennel recovery/rest time; Chanel has supervised 'Gavin' time.

Are you wondering, "What was she thinking?  She disrupted a perfect routine!"

Well, maybe. 

But it seems to be working out fine.  I like activity.  I appreciate 'controlled' chaos. And, more importantly, I loved dogs (and horses and goats).

I'm trying-out several dictation apps on my iPhone. This way I can enjoy the Southern California sun shine and a cup of coffee while dictating a chapter or working out my plot-structure.

So mixing up your routine is a good thing!

It gives you a new outlook.  You explore new pathways.  And you get to spend money on puppy toys (only three).

I'm still cooking.  Ya'all.  This week it was Shrimp and Cheese Grits.  I've gotta keep that New Orleans' vibe going!

https://bookswelove.net/vines-connie/

 Connie's Website and Links

My New 19th Century BFFs

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I’ve been making new friends as I research and write the sequel to Kelegeen. My latest BFFs are two prominent 19th century ladies – Catharine E. Beecher and Lydia Maria Child. Both wrote prolifically on several subjects, but for my purposes it’s their works on domestic science and cookery that are of particular interest.                                                          Catharine E. Beecher                            1869 Edition of The American Woman's Home or Domestic Science                                     by Catharine E. Beecher and Harriet Beecher Stowe Readers may not realize how much goes into the research of historical novels. Sure the author has to know the general history of the time – what was happening politically, economically, internationally, etc., but often even more important is knowledge of how people lived their everyday lives.  What did they eat and how did they prepare it? What did they wear? Did they purchase their clothing or make their own? How did they address one another? How did they celebrate holidays? What items did they have in their homes and, for that matter, what kind of homes did they live in? And just how much is that ubiquitous 19th century unit of measure, a hogshead? (64 gallons as it turns out). The questions go on and on.  Fortunately, the answers can be found in books written in or near the time period (in my case 1850s New England). Specifically, I’ve been enjoying The American Woman’s Home or Domestic Science co-authored by Catharine E. Beecher and her younger half-sister, Harriet Beecher Stowe of Uncle Tom’s Cabin fame and The American Frugal Housewife by Lydia Maria Child. Both Beecher and Child wrote with self-assurance and the occasional strong opinion.  Besides learning all about home economics of the 19th century, the reader also absorbs insights into the thinking of these women and their contemporaries. Though some entries seem quaint, others have had a “hey, that’s a good idea” effect on me.  I wish I could meet these two exceptional ladies, but as that is impossible, I’m happy to settle for getting to know them through the writings they’ve left behind.