Remember When . . . The Pilots Didn’t Fly?

I was researching for my Civil War era book when I first read about pilots. I’d heard the term in this context, of course, but I still had to pause. Frown. And think, “They obviously don’t mean airplane pilots, so…”
Okay, it didn’t even require that much of a pause, given that I was reading about boats and ships trying to maneuver through complicated riverways. Pretty obvious that when they say they need to find an able pilot, they’re not looking for someone to wing them through the clouds. 😉
Still, it’s come up again, and I’ve been struck by how important a job these people had. During the War of 1812, for instance, the action in the Chesapeake depended heavily upon how one could navigate the web of estuaries. Those native to the region could find ways around the blockade by following smaller streams and branches around and about until they were past the British ships in the bay. But the British…when they were trying to launch raids with their fleet, they couldn’t do a whole lot on their own.
In both the War of 1812 and the Civil War, the visitors to the territories they were trying to invade relied on a particular group of pilots to aid them–the slaves. Both with the same promise–freedom. Though Maryland was technically a Union state in the Civil War, it was one of the two highest traders of slaves in the early 19th century, sending them south and west. Needless to say, there were plenty kept there too. And much as they had done during the Revolution, the British put out the word that any slave to run away from his master and join the British would be granted their freedom.
This is how they got their pilots. They lured local slaves away and then used their intimate knowledge of the land and rivers to lead the invading force away from the coast.
In Whispers from the Shadows, my hero is a a New Englander who moved to Maryland as a teen. Having been raised with the sensibilities of one from a state that had outlawed slavery before he was even born, he sees this practice and shakes his head–knowing that this same weakness that is bringing the British too close for comfort now will continue to divide his nation. Which, naturally, will lead right into the third book in the trilogy, when his granddaughter finds herself caught in a rather precarious position between the southern sympathizers meeting secretly in Baltimore and her Union-sympathizing family…
But I’m getting ahead of myself. 😉
Oh, and many, many thanks to everyone who took the time to wish me a happy birthday yesterday! I had a lovely day with my family, and it was brightened still more by all the online greetings. =)
Thirty Schmirty

Thirty Schmirty

It’s August 14. That means that at 12:10 p.m., I will officially be a thirty-something instead of a twenty-something. Two years ago I was a bit shocked to realize I was “late twenties” instead of “mid-twenties.” So you can imagine my surprise at this one, LOL.
But after considerable consideration, I have decided that I’m not going to stay at 29. Nope. I’m 30, and I’m going to own it. I’m going to make it awesome. 
I mean, 29 was pretty great. LFY Annapolis came out, I got to see Jewel of Persia and A Stray Drop of Blood appear and hold steady on the Amazon genre best-seller list. I sold my first trilogy, the Culper Ring Series, to Harvest House. 
So how much better might 30 be? Ring of Secrets will be out this coming year, and Whispers from the Shadows too! My daughter will be going into second grade, and my little guy will be dipping his toes in the home school pool too. And to top it all off, 30 marks the year when I’ll have spent half my life loving my honey, who I started dating at 15.

So naturally, we must celebrate this tumbling into a new decade with chocolate.

Chocolate Orange Cream Cake – one of my favorite recipes =)

And with these guys…

And with food that I’m not cooking. 😉 Oh! And we’re also celebrating a milestone of Facebook followers for WhiteFire, so there’ll be a giveaway today! If you haven’t entered yet for the winner’s choice of WhiteFire e-book, you better hop over there before I do the drawing!

So grab a slice of that delicious cake, a tall glass of iced coffee, and enjoy the day with me! Let’s live it up!

Word of the Week – Zone

The other day I was looking up “war zone,” and in so doing came across some interesting tidbits on zone. =)
The noun dates to the late fourteenth century, coming directly from the Latin zona, which means “a geographical belt, celestial zone.” The Latin in turn comes from the Greek zone, which was the word for “belt.” Originally this was used solely to talk of the five great divisions on the surface of the earth–the torrid, temperate, and frigid areas, separated by the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn and the Arctic and Antarctic circles.
It wasn’t until 1822 that zone was applied to any set region–so I could be pretty sure “war zone” wasn’t around yet in 1814, LOL. It was applied to sports in 1927.
Then we have the verb sense coming into play. “Zoning” land for a purpose dates from 1912.
Not to be confused with the oh-so-modern sense of “zone out.” This verb is from the 1980s, a back-formation of the adjective “zoned” that’s related to drug use, taken from the word ozone. I guess it implies that someone’s really high, which I’d never paused to consider. That use is from the 1960s. (Surprise, surprise, LOL.)
So there you go. Some really ancient uses, and some incredibly modern ones. =)
Thoughtful About . . . Stalled Dreams

Thoughtful About . . . Stalled Dreams

A Favor by Edmund Blair Leighton
I’ve always liked August. It holds my birthday, after all, and has traditionally had lots of other fun things going on. But on the other hand, it’s the end of summer. The start of school. For any household with kids, August signals a change in seasons, even though the heat of summer’s still upon us.
This year, when the page in the calendar flipped, it kinda got to me. I looked down at the project that had been my primary goal, and I see that it’s not all that far along. And that feeling of failure swamped me. That feeling of What have I been doing? How have I wasted my time?
Then I remember that I haven’t been twiddling my thumbs. I’ve been editing a lot, which is great and necessary. I wrote a novella that I’m excited to get to use for promotion between the first two books of the Culper Ring Series. And I got a good chunk done on another project.
A project that got stalled, perhaps even nixed for good. Which thought still brings me a pang.
I’m a writer–I know rejection well. I’ve had to put aside countless projects over the years. But for some reason, this one still gets me down now and then. Primarily, I think, because it’s intertwined with a couple other projects in my mind, which have also been stalled. Put on hold. Which they’ve been on so long that they’ve gone from “paused” to “stop.”
I’m not sure I can really explain this echoey sigh that fills me when I think about these things lately. I can see where the way things have fallen out is without doubt for the best. I can see that the Lord has His plan in it and have to nod at the wisdom. 
But still there’s just this sense of loss. Lost dreams. Lost time spent on them when I could have been working on the project that’s a sure thing.
I have to trust there, though, too, don’t I? Trust that that time spent was for a purpose too. That it wasn’t wasted.
The funny thing is that I have no problem looking at the years spent on that pile of books in my computer that are unpublished and give them a thumb’s up. Because I learned from them, because they made me who I am, because I still hope that some of them will have their day. So why can’t I look at the month and a half spent on these projects the same way?
I’m really not sure, but it’s something I’ve been giving to the Lord again and again. And again, and again, I have to remind myself that I haven’t failed. That I’m doing just fine, thank you very much, on my primary project.
With mere weeks left in my “free” time this summer–or at least before the home school year starts–I can’t help but number my days and try to figure out how to catch up with where I wanted to be. But the real task here isn’t to write a chapter a day and edit two books for WhiteFire. The real task is to lay these stalled dreams on the alter and trust. Trust that lost dreams and lost time and lost motivation are all part of God’s plan for me to find something better. To find His path for me. To find Him in new ways.
It’s hard, when those echoey sighs billow through me. But then . . . trust always is.
Remember When . . . The Traditions Were Medieval?

Remember When . . . The Traditions Were Medieval?

A friend contacted me yesterday to ask if I would consider digging into the traditions of the garter-toss and bouquet toss at weddings for one of my posts. Well, ask and ye shall receive!
The garter-toss is a remnant from days of old. Back in the medieval and Elizabethan eras, no one just assumed that the bride and groom would retire to their room and consummate the marriage. No, no, they wanted proof–or at least a semblance of it. Back in those days, the wedding guests would accompany the bridal couple to the bed chamber. Taking the garter was considered “proof.” It was also considered luck. So things sometimes got out of hand with guests trying to derobe the bride so they could get at those lucky undergarments . . . 
Yeah, that’s when the “toss” came in, LOL. Brides and grooms understandably wanted to distract those over-eager guests, so the groom would remove the garter and toss it to get people away from his poor bride. Kinda like tossing a steak at the snarling guard dogs… 😉
Over the centuries, that tradition has held on, though it’s been moved to the reception when seeing the couple to their bedroom went out of style. Funny the things that stick, isn’t it?
The bouquet-toss is rooted in a similar idea. Brides in Merry Old England (by which I mean OLD England), would carry bunches of aromatic herbs (think garlic) to fend off evil spirits (a common thread in many Celtic and Anglo traditions). These were eventually replaced with flowers as a symbol of happiness. And if the bride was so stinkin’ happy, well the guests wanted a piece of it too! They would try to snatch a piece of the bride’s gown or flowers for luck.
Go figure, the women weren’t too crazy about having their wedding dress torn to shreds (I don’t understand it…), so the bouquet-toss came about, much like the garter-toss did–to get people away from her, LOL.
So these two tossing traditions are both ways of sharing the good luck of the bridal couple with the guests without offending modesty or ruining the gown, and both have since come to the mean that the lucky recipient would be the next to wed. (Which is, of course, the best fortune anyone could have. *grins*)
And hey, if anyone else has questions about words or history that you’d like me to research for you, it saves me some brainstorming, so I’m all ears!