Tuesday, February 6, 2018

The Proof is in the Mixin' Bowls! by Gail Roughton

Home Is Where The Heart Is

A current Facebook funny video's making the rounds (courtesy of  the public Facebook page It's a Southern Thing; anyone who likes a good laugh should check it out) which oddly enough, seems to make folks think of me, though I can't imagine why (and yes, that's sarcasm, 'cause the video features a "southern" Alexa, complete with southern accent). A writer friend of mine from Kansas tagged me with it on Friday and even though I'd seen it, I watched it again 'cause it's just so dang funny and has so much truth in it.  But it wasn't till the next day when I was doing Saturday morning chores that I realized just how much truth.  (Yeah, I think of some pretty strange things while I'm cleaning.)  

One of the scenes has the lady of the house checking the fridge and instructing Alexa to add biscuits to the grocery list.  So Alexa responds, "Adding flour, baking powder, sugar..." Not exactly what the lady of the house had in mind.  "No, no, no! Canned biscuits." To which Alexa exclaims in horror, "Why on earth would you do that?  Are your mixin' bowls broken?"  

Biscuits do happen to be one of my signature dishes, but while I swept the floor, I suddenly realized I'd once responded almost exactly the same way to someone, though biscuits weren't involved.  A couple of years ago during the holiday season, my publisher, who shall be nameless but whose initials are Jude Pittman, emailed me for a recipe for cornbread because, as she explained, she wanted to make dressing but couldn't find the pre-packaged mix she usually used for cornbread on the shelves of her Canadian grocery store. Horror-struck at the thought of cornbread from a package, I immediately e-mailed back, "There's absolutely no reason to ever use a package mix for cornbread!  All you need is two cups of cornmeal..." And off I went, spouting forth a basic cornbread recipe along with pretty much every variation I could think of.  

Now don't get me wrong, I don't labor under any delusion that every southern woman is a master cook (certainly I'm not) or always bakes from scratch (certainly I don't, except for cornbread and usually biscuits) and for certain sure I've never seen my daughter make cornbread from anything but a package mix. But I do think every region has its own traditions, passed down through the generations, and I absolutely believe cooking and recipes are very big players in forming the character of a region, whether same be New England, Pennsylvania Dutch, Mid-Western, Southwestern, Western, Pacific Northwest, or Southern. Or Floridian or Californian 'cause sometimes those states do tend to be separate entities all by themselves. Certainly cooking and recipes are integral plot ingredients in cozy mysteries, and I definitely use food throughout my writing to "flavor" the words for an extra touch of southern. 

Pretty much nothing's more southern than cornbread, so just in case anybody's in need of a quick cornbread recipe that throws together just about as fast as any package mix, here you go:



2 cups self-rising cornmeal (though you can add in 1/3 to 2/3 cup of sugar if you like, and also you can use 1 cup cornmeal and 1 cup flour if you prefer. Also, if you're not using self-rising, you're goin' to need a dash of salt and some baking soda.  A little baking powder wouldn't hurt anything either.  Which is why I never buy anything but self-rising cornmeal or flour 'cause it's just too complicated if you don't.)

3 tablespoons oil (though you can go as high as a 1/3 to slightly under 1/2 a cup if you're using flour and sugar along with the cornmeal. Also, you can use melted butter instead of oil but butter disappears fast enough at my house as it is so I don't.)

1 egg (or two, depends on your mood and whether you're using flour and sugar instead of just cornmeal)

1 1/2 cup buttermilk (approximately, 'cause changing up the number of eggs and adding flour and sugar into the mix is goin' to change the amount of liquid used and if you've gone with the almost but not quite 1/2 cup of oil and 2 egg option, you need to use 1 cup of buttermilk. Also if you don't have buttermilk, you can use milk but it doesn't take as much milk 'cause milk makes the batter thinner and trust me, it ain't goin' to taste as good either, so you have to eyeball it as you mix.)

Mix together and bake in either an 8 by 8 pan or muffin pan (12) at 425 for 15-18 minutes, though if you've gone with the flour, sugar, and more oil option, bake at 375 for 30-35 minutes,  depending on your oven and how golden-brown you want it, 'cause the texture's going to be different.

And if you want some killer jalapeno cornbread, throw in 1/4 cup diced jalapenos before mixing, though if you do, you definitely need the 1 cup corn meal, 1 cup flour, 2/3 cup of sugar, almost but not quite 1/2 cup oil, 2 eggs, 1 cup buttermilk, (don't forget the 1/4 cup diced jalapeno), bake at 375 for 30-35 minutes (my perfect time is 33 minutes) version.  

Confused? You've just been "southern reciped". And that's why I never ask for anybody's recipe for anything.  I look up a black and white recipe and then make my own modifications.  (However, that last paragraph detailing the making of jalapeno cornbread is truly awesome as well as being exact in measurements.) 

But you don't have to cook for a taste of southern, just go settle in at the Scales of Justice Cafe, located within the pages of Country Justice. And for links to all my novels at all online sites, just visit my author page at BWL Publishing. Y'all come back now, hear?

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Monday, February 5, 2018

Baroness Orzy - Her Life and Times - By Rosemary Morris




Before I could read, I admired the pictures in my story books. At five-years-old learned to read and, in later life, shared my favourite children’s fiction. For example, at Christmas, I gave my two older granddaughters A Little Princess and The Secret Garden.
Recently, I visited old favourites among which are Baroness Orczy’s series about The Scarlet Pimpernel then researched the life of this talented novelist, the whose life was as interesting as her novels.

Baroness Orczy – Her Life and Times

Best remembered for her hero, Percy Blakeney, the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel, Baroness Emmuska Orczy was born in Tarna Ors, Hungary, in 1865 to parents who frequented the magnificent court of the Austrian Hungarian Empire.
Emmuska enjoyed every luxury in her father’s magnificent ancestral chateaux, where she lived until 1870 when a mob of peasants burned the barn, stables and fields. Yet, throughout her life, the lively parties, the dancing and the haunting gypsy music lived on in Emmuska’s memory.
Fearing a national uprising, the baron moved his family from Hungary to Belgium, and, until her family settled in London, Emmuska attended convent schools in Brussels and Paris.
Emmuska fell in love with England which she regarded as her spiritual birthplace, her true home.  When people referred to her as a foreigner, and said there was nothing English about her, she replied ‘my love is all English, for I love the country’.
Baron Orczy tried hard to develop his daughter’s musical talent, but she chose art and had the satisfaction of her work being exhibited at The Royal Academy.  Later, she turned to writing. 
At Heatherby’s School of Art, Emmuska met her future husband, Montague Barstow, an illustrator. In 1894 they married, and, in her own words, the union was ‘happy and joyful’.
Her bridegroom encouraged her to write. In 1895 her translations of Old Hungarian Fairy Tales, The Enchanted Cat, Fairyland’s Beauty and Uletka and The White Lizard, edited with Montague’s help, were published. Inspired by thrillers she watched on stage, Emmuska wrote mystery and detective stories. The first featured The Old Man in the Corner.  For the generous payment of sixty pounds the Royal Magazine published it in 1901.  Her stories were an instant hit.  Yet, although the public could not get enough of them, she remained dissatisfied.
In her autobiography Emmuska wrote: ‘I felt inside my heart a kind of stirring that the writing of sensational stuff for magazines would not and should not, be the end and aim of my ambition.  I wanted to do something more than that.  Something big.’
Montague and Emmuska spent 1900 in Paris that, in her ears, echoed with the violence of the French Revolution. Surely, she had found the setting for a magnificent hero to champion the victims of “The Terror”. Unexpectedly, after she and Montagu returned to England, while waiting for a train Emmuska saw her famous hero, Sir Percival Blakeney, dressed in exquisite clothes.  She noted the monocle held up in his slender hand, heard both his lazy drawl and his quaint laugh.  Emmuska told her husband about the incident and wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel in five weeks.
  Very often, although the first did not apply to Emmuska and Montague, it is as difficult to find true love as it is to get published. A dozen publishers or more rejected The Scarlet Pimpernel.  The publishing houses wanted modern, true-life novels. Undeterred Emmuska and Montague turned the novel into a play.
The critics did not care for the play, which opened at the New Theatre, London in 1904, but the audiences loved it and it ran for 2,000 performances.  As a result, The Scarlet Pimpernel was published and became the blockbuster of its era making it possible for Emmuska and Montague to live in an estate in Kent, have a bustling London home and buy a luxurious villa in Monte Carlo.
During the next thirty-five years, Emmuska wrote not only sequels to The Scarlet Pimpernel but other historical and crime novels.  Her loyal fans repaid her by flocking to the first of several films about her gallant hero. The first directed by her compatriot, Alexander Korda, was released in 1935.  
 Emmuska and Montague moved to Monte Carlo in the late 1910’s where they remained during Nazi occupation in the Second World War.
Montague died in 1943 leaving Emmuska bereft.  She lived with her only son and divided her time between London and Monte Carlo. At 82, her last novel Will-O’theWisp and her autobiography, Links in the Chain of Life, were published in 1947 shortly before her death.
A lasting tribute to the baroness is the enduring affection the public has for her brave, romantic hero, Sir Percival Blakeney, master of disguise.

The Captain and The Countess
London. 1706
      
Why does heart-rending pain lurk in the back of the wealthy Countess of Sinclair’s eyes? 
Captain Howard’s life changes forever from the moment he meets Kate, the intriguing Countess and resolves to banish her pain.
Although the air sizzles when widowed Kate, victim of an abusive marriage meets Edward Howard, a captain in Queen Anne’s navy, she has no intention of ever marrying again.
However, when Kate becomes better acquainted with the Captain she realises he is the only man who understands her grief and can help her to untangle her past.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels. Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess

Regency Novels. False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child

Mediaeval Novel. Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One



Friday, February 2, 2018

My sinuous path to writing by J. S. Marlo





Many people I meet are curious to know how I became a writer, but I’m afraid the answer often disappoints them—or isn’t quite what they expect to hear.

I would love to say I obtained a degree in English literature, journalism, or creative writing (such a degree would come handy on a daily basis), then wrote and published stories. Instead, I followed a different path, a path I never dreamed would lead to writing and publishing.

As a teen, when I was bored during math class, I scribbled short stories, imagined new scripts for my favorite TV shows, or rewrote the ending of books I read, but without any writing expectations. It was pure fun. A hobby. A secret passion. I believed my path forward was lit with numbers, not words. I wanted to become an accountant, a statistician, a mathematician, or an actuary. I obtained a degree in business and finance, and for nearly twenty years, numbers ruled my world with little room for words.

 Then one summer day, I underwent a routine surgery but developed a severe infection following major complications. I spent many months in bed. To save my sanity, my husband gave me a laptop so I could interact with the outside world.

Well...I found a writing site. At first, I was a reader, then I gathered the nerve (or maybe it was the meds) to post the opening scene of a story. Next thing I knew I started getting comments about my scene, so I posted another one. Writing my daily scene gave me purpose and pleasure amid the pain. What had started as an escape became a torch at the end of a long tunnel, a flame that rekindled that secret passion buried deep inside me. In time, I healed and re-entered the world of the living, but I couldn’t ignore or re-bottle that passion I unleashed. In the following six years, I wrote and shared over two dozen stories—fun stories that served as learning tools for POV, floating body parts, show vs tell, character development...

Thanks to the encouragement I received, I started writing a special story, a story about a female scuba diver who investigates a Ford Model T sunk at the bottom of a lake, a story I kept to myself and showed to no one. After I finished it, I submitted it in a contest sponsored by a new publisher. In my wildest dreams I never imagined it would land me my first publishing contract.

Writing is a precious gift I rediscovered under difficult circumstances, and it changed my life for the better. The journey is ongoing as I write almost every day and sometimes way too late at night. So far, I’ve published eight novels, I’m midway through a ninth, and I’m geared up to start a new romance paranormal series later this year.

So, how did I become a writer? Quite literally by accident.

Thanks for joining me. Have a wonderful day!
JS




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