by Roseanna White | Feb 8, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
First, today is the LAST STOP of my
Annapolis blog tour, and I’m going out with a bang–on
Seekerville! Talking about the importance of our words, both the ones we speak (or type) and the ones we don’t. Head on over! And now for your regularly scheduled programming. 😉
~*~
I finally, finally reached a critical turning point in my manuscript–my hero, long stranded in Cuba, gets to come home. But as I sat down, fingers poised over keyboard and ready to make his dreams come (momentarily) true, I paused. And said something like, “Aww, man. How am I supposed to get him there?”
I knew all along this would be tricky. In 1861, it was, shall we say, a bit difficult to gain entrance to the Confederate States of America. See, there was this little thing called the blockade . . . LOL. I had a plan for it, but it was a loose one. Based upon a few quick searches, some squinting, and a couple, “Eh, good enough for now”s.
But it wasn’t good enough for the real thing. So my internet searches got more intense, and where they failed, I looked for help. By the end of my work day on Monday, I’d exchanged about a dozen emails with six different historians. And I had enough to go on.
I’d determined that the most likely port of entry from Cuba would be Cedar Key, Florida. So my search started with the lovely, oh-so-friendly folks of
Low-Key Hideaways, who had a plethora of historical information about their little island on their website, including a wonderful hand-drawn map from the 1880s. I emailed the info address on their website and within
minutes had a response, which was also forwarded to a friend of theirs who knew the island’s history well.
Said friend applauded me for making the Cuba-Cedar Key connection and referred me to others from the town who had written books about it during the Civil War, so could answer any questions I had about the town’s layout at the time.
That was a lovely start to my day, that verification that, hey, I’d landed him in the right place! Phew! And it was a good spot, because it was the western most terminus of the Florida railroad. Surely, surely, that would make it easy, right? I could just stick my hero on a train to Savannah.
Except, er, there seemed to be no train from Florida to Georgia. Um . . . I found a map that had a connector line marked as “built during the war,” but it didn’t tell me when. Argh! This was the point where my hubby said, “You just need that one railroad buff who can answer your question off the top of his head. Find him.”
I started doing random searches for “Florida railroad Civil War” and came across and article sourced from the Railway & Locomotive Historical Society. Needless to say, their website was my next stop. I found the email address for their historical editor, sent him a few questions. Which he forwarded to the historian at the Florida East Coast Railway. Who forwarded it to a professor friend who’d just written a book about it.
I’d found my guy! He emailed later that evening answering my exact question–and giving me the year on that connector line, which was, sadly, two years too late. =( But I now knew that my hero could only take the rail from Cedar Key to the other side of Florida, Fernandina. From there, it would be a stage coach to Savannah.
Not what I’d planned on–but doable. And right. Oh, how I love knowing I’ve gotten details like that right!
All that research made for not as much writing time as I’d liked, but it was well worth it. And now I have a host of oh-so-helpful people who are on my acknowledgment list for this book. =) And more information on Civil War Florida than I ever thought I’d need to know. 😉
by Roseanna White | Feb 1, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
First, I want to thank everyone for sharing my excitement and offering your congrats and encouragement on my Big News. Being able to talk about it at last makes it so new and real, LOL.
I was tempted to talk about the Christian Product Expo I just attended in Lancaster, but since that’s not historical, ha ha, I figured I’d better spare you all those details that probably wouldn’t interest everyone. 😉 So instead, I thought I’d share some of the things that have struck me in the memoir I’ve been reading for research.
Last week I downloaded a dozen free books on the Civil War, most of them original texts from the era. The one I opened first was A Confederate Girl’s Diary by Sarah Morgan Dawson. Sarah was a young lady in Baton Rouge during the war, and getting her view of events has been so interesting. It isn’t just the events through her eyes that get me–it’s her outlook on the whole state of affairs.
What strikes me most is her casual acceptance of looming death. One of the parts I just read says something along the lines of “I assured Mother that Charlie could protect me. And of course, should he be killed, I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.”
As they’re evacuating the city during a brief shelling, they go by a camp of guerilla soldiers, and she and her sister call out something like, “Die protecting us!” Even when it’s her own brother’s and father’s lives on the line–or extinguished–it’s told in her diary with grief but no despair. But rather with a calm acceptance of whatever life might give.
And yet there’s also the kind of scattered delight that reminded me of a character in an Austen novel. When Sarah is telling about the above-mentioned escape from the city, she gets only a block away before her shoes become so uncomfortable that she decides to turn back and get different ones. And of course, once back in the house, she thinks she had better grab some spare clothes. And of course, then she must gather some ribbons . . . and a comb . . . and her letters–but which ones?
The picture she paints of herself, comically oblivious to the shells whizzing overhead when it’s about something as critical as finding her favorite belongings, is that of someone who has adjusted in ways she never imagined to a world gone quite mad.
And that, in my opinion, is one of the most amazing traits of humanity–our ability to adapt. No matter the era, no matter the circumstances, as a whole we will change as our circumstances dictated.
Much like this Confederate girl who mourned the loss of the Sarah of old . . . but didn’t let it render her speechless.
by Roseanna White | Jan 25, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
This past week, I’ve been doing a lot of research. I downloaded about a dozen free e-books to my Kindle, all from the Civil War, mostly memoirs and first-hand accounts. And, of course, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which I deem it a gross oversight on my part that I’ve never read. (Though I was in The King and I in high school and can’t think of the book without breaking out into song: “Small house of Uncle Thooooooomas, small house of Uncle Thooooooomas, writ-ten by a wo-man, Harriet Beecher Stooooooooooooow-eh.”)
When I first started writing this Civil War book, I thought, “Oh, good. I’ll have two books to write in the next year set in this era. My research will get to double up.”
Except, of course, that these two books are about as different as you can get when set in the same era. In my current one, both hero and heroine and Confederates. From Savannah, with its unique Georgian culture. Under their unique Georgian laws. The other one will have hero and heroine who are both Union sympathizers, though my heroine will be a widow of a secret Confederate. It’s set in Maryland, which had many who left the state to join the Confederacy, but the state itself was basically not allowed to, given the military presence.
Okay, so my fashion research will be able to double up. Otherwise . . . LOL.
And though it means more work for me, I really love how different stories can be when set in the same time. My colonials are good examples of this too.
Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland is set in 1783. Hero and heroine are Patriots, and the heroine even observes that she’s scarcely seen a Tory since the war began, which would have been true of Williamsburg, where she grew up. But in my next book, set in 1780 New York City (or rather, the City of New York as it was called at the time), my heroine is literally surrounded by Loyalists after growing up in a Patriot household on Long Island. Who had control of a place played an enormous part in what that place was like.
In either the Revolutionary or Civil War.
Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about this past week. 😉 Do you have a particular era you love–and have you noticed the amazing spectrum of perspectives available in it? I’d love to hear about it!
Now back I go to my manuscript. My heroine has just gotten word that the hero is dead. Poor Cordelia!
by Roseanna White | Jan 18, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
Tableux Vivant.
Sounds pretty, doesn’t it? French often does, after all. =) And after taking a few years of it, I know upon seeing this phrase that it means something like “living picture.” I also knew when I read that these tableaux were often put on in the 1800s that it was some kind of performance, and that they were used as fundraisers in the South during the war.
As for what kind of performance–yeah, I had no clue. So if you do already, you’re a step ahead of where I was a couple months ago. 😉
My first thought was that it was a play. In fact, my assumption was that it was a play, and I started writing it into my story as if it were. My heroine was preparing a script, casting her friends in the roles. Then something went “clang clang clang!” in my brain, and I thought, “Hmmm, I’d better actually look that up.”
Good thing I did! Some quick research showed me that a tableau vivant is something unique. The performers would select a well-known painting or other work of art (statuary, etc.) and then mimic it. Strike a pose to imitate it, their costuming reflecting the original work of art, and a narrator would say something about it. Then there would be a change of scenes, and the performers would move into another pose, another painting.
Pretty neat, huh? Of course, it threw a wrench into my plan for my writer-heroine to be putting her brilliant wordsmithing to work . . . so I had to get creative–er, have her get creative. 😉 In my story, my heroine, Cordelia, writes a story to pull together these well-known paintings and has gathered all her friends together (those left in the city, that is–most had already fled inland, away from those blasted Yankees) to strike the poses. Their goal–to raise funds for the Confederacy. It is, of course, a smashing success.
Tableaux are still put on today, so some of you are probably familiar with this interesting type of performance. But I can honestly say none of them had made it to my neck of the woods, so it was fun and interesting to learn about them, and integrate them into my story. Vive les tableaux!
by Roseanna White | Jan 11, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
Ahem. Well, I got your attention with that title, didn’t I? 😉
Much of my past week was spent doing one final edit of Sandi Rog’s Walks Alone. In this truly excellent historical romance, heroine Anna gets kidnapped by a band of Cheyenne and taken to their village in the Rockies. There, she learns so many interesting things about the tribe’s culture.
I’ve long been intrigued by the Native Americans (American Indians? Which is The Way to Say It these days?) and know a good bit about some of the different tribes. I’d never studied the Cheyenne though and found some of the details Sandi brought to life to be truly fascinating.
Especially some of their traditions that are remarkably similar to Old Testament instructions, like how one is to treat a woman in her monthly time. The parallels to the Law is striking, not only in that they’re considered unclean for those days, but also in the ritual surrounding cleansing from it.
I was also super-interested to learn that in a Cheyenne marriage, there is no consummation until ten days after the wedding ceremony–who knew?? Loved learning that sort of detail! Ranked right up there with learning that there are those in the tribe who keep a pictorial record book of the tribe’s history–basically a picture book denoting wins and losses in battle, great hunts, and the other defining moments of a tribe’s history.
Cool, eh? And you can rest assured that Sandi got it all right, because it’s been read and approved by a Cheyenne chief, which is yet another coolness-factor in its favor. =)
by Roseanna White | Jan 4, 2012 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
I looked down at my calendar this morning and realized that, round about this time in 1784, things were getting interesting for my characters. =) Within a day or two of this date, my hero had finally tracked down and come face to face with my heroine after a tense separation–and she had made her opinions on this action of his very well known.
The result was the scene snippet that was up on Shannon Vannatter’s romance blog last week, and I thought I’d share it today since it’s kind of a “This Day in Annapolis“ sort of thing . . . and because I need to get cracking on some editorial duties this morning. 😉
Speaking of which, WhiteFire’s next title is only 11 days away from its digital release, and the print version is available for pre-order on Amazon! Walks Alone is an amazing historical romance that will intrigue, surprise, and delight you as you journey with a determined immigrant from Holland as she makes her way to Denver City . . . and straight into a band of wild Cheyenne. =)
Now for that snippet . . .
from Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland
“I have heard enough.” She whipped
the blanket off her shoulders and folded it with a series of sharp,
angry motions.
He stepped between her and the door.
“This particular anger is more for Wiley than me, isn’t it? I had
no way of knowing you did not intend me to read it. So if you would
like me to deliver you home to Williamsburg so you can berate him—”
She slapped the blanket onto a chair.
“I will stay right here, thank you.”
Her anger was clear, yes. But more,
there was stony determination beneath it. “You mean it. Even
knowing how your family misses you—”
“Perhaps if my family had respected
my wishes and canceled the wedding plans, then I would not have to
stay away.”
He studied the upward slant of her
chin, the fierce burning in her eyes. She would not be budged. Which
meant he had two choices. He could give up and go home, convince
their families the betrothal was off. If he chose that option, then
he would in effect being saying good-bye to her once and for all.
Giving her her wish, which might be the gentlemanly thing to do.
But the light caught the depths of her
hair, and her eyes shone like moonstone. Her dress hung in total
disarray, but her spine was straight and strong.
Emerson dragged in a long breath and
cast his lot on the second option. “If you will not come home, then
I shall stay here.”
She blinked, as if uncertain she had
heard him correctly. “You…why in the world would you do that?”
His smile felt wry upon his lips.
“Because if you are the woman I begin to see you must be, then you
are worth the world.”
For a moment he thought he glimpsed
tears in her eyes, but then she averted them, and he couldn’t be
sure it was anything more than a reaction to the whiff of smoke from
the chimney. Her hands fisted at
her sides. “You have never lacked for
lovely words, Emerson. But it is too late. Go or stay, it is no
concern of mine.”
He inclined his head. “Then with your
leave, my dear, I shall stay.”
With all the lack of concern of a
British lady, she picked up her coffee and took a long drink. “Enjoy
the town.”
“I think I shall do so more this time
than ever before. Given the company.”
Her brows rose. “I know not what
company you have in mind, but I promise you it shan’t be mine.”
He pressed his lips together against a
grin. “Then I suppose you shall stay hidden in Randel House?
Because I assure you, darling, I still have friends enough in
Annapolis that if you step out to a ball or fete, I will have secured
an invitation to it as well.”
She looked as though she would have
liked to dash the cup to the ground. Instead she raised her chin.
“Very well. Enjoy the holiday celebrations too. But if you call me
‘darling’ again, ’tis the plank for you.”
A smirk sprang to his lips before he
could stop it. “You have pirates among your new acquaintances?”
“Scores of them.” She sashayed past
him with a smirk of her own, leaning close enough to say, “And
Cap’n Mobcap’s not one to be trifled with.”
He let her by, mostly so she wouldn’t
see his lopsided smile. Getting to know Lark Benton might be the most
enjoyment he’d had in ages.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.