I have learned a few things about grist mills since I've researched the Underground Railroad for my novel-in-progress. Grist mills dotted the rivers of our nation in the first two centuries. Families often gathered at the mill to socialize while they waited for harvested grain to be ground. The mill provided the processing needed to grind flour and corn meal, which could then be baked into bread, a staple of the early American diet.
The mill's grindstone operated through a system of cogs and machinery powered by a large wheel partially submerged in a river. The power of flowing water was harnessed for a common good.
Unfortunately, we in northeastern Pennsylvania have seen the waters of the Susquehanna River and local creeks unleash their power in a devastating way. Flooded homes, and washed out bridges and roads only hint at the underlying stories of human suffering and grief that will continue long after the waters have returned to their banks.
It is chilling to think that water, just like electrical and nuclear power, can be destructive.
God's silver lining in all this is the "love thy neighbor" principle we see as people put their lives back together. I saw many individuals on Facebook offer to provide shelter during the evacuation. Now neighbors are helping neighbors clean up the mess. It seems that disaster can bring people together even more than festivity.
If you have a story of hope in the midst of this tragedy, I would love to hear it.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Celebrating Heroes
My husband, Frank, is the Pennsylvania State Police Commissioner. Last February he set in motion plans for a tenth anniversary 9/11 memorial honoring living and fallen soldiers since 9/11 who serve, or have served in the PA State Police. He obtained a state trooper honor guard, the National Guard Band of the Mid-Atlantic, the Eighth and I Marine Corps Color Guard, and the following speakers: Adjutant General of the Pa National Guard, Wes Craig; Governor Tom Corbett; and Lt. Col. Oliver North. Frank planned a short speech, as well.
On September first, I listened to him give what one person said was the best speech they ever heard. He recounted how his father, a decorated WWII veteran and POW, who never talked about his imprisonment, often mentioned how he was honored by others when he returned home. Everywhere he went, people bought him drinks and meals. When my husband returned from Viet Nam, he and his fellow vets received no such treatment. They were ignored. Frank didn’t let that bother him. Years later our grandson, Austin, invited him to his middle school celebration honoring veterans. When they gave the Viet Nam veterans a standing ovation, he experienced the public gratitude he had never gotten. It was a defining moment. He told these trooper-veterans that he wanted them to have a defining moment, too. As the saying goes, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
That memorial service was a defining moment for me as well. Living without my husband for the ten months he was in Viet Nam, not knowing whether he would live or die, and bearing our first child without him, were difficult moments in my life. But this commemorative event helped Frank and I connect our past to our present, and in some respects, helped define our future. We can see God orchestrating all the events in our lives, and turning difficult situations into something good.
Frank showed his emotional investment in these troopers when he spoke at this memorial. At that moment he was no longer their boss, he was one of them. He had walked where they walked.
As a fiction writer, I must make the same kind of emotional investment. My readers must make a powerful connection with my characters to be drawn into the story. For them to make that connection, I must be drawn into the story as well. Maybe that’s why fiction writers feel like their characters are real.
On September first, I listened to him give what one person said was the best speech they ever heard. He recounted how his father, a decorated WWII veteran and POW, who never talked about his imprisonment, often mentioned how he was honored by others when he returned home. Everywhere he went, people bought him drinks and meals. When my husband returned from Viet Nam, he and his fellow vets received no such treatment. They were ignored. Frank didn’t let that bother him. Years later our grandson, Austin, invited him to his middle school celebration honoring veterans. When they gave the Viet Nam veterans a standing ovation, he experienced the public gratitude he had never gotten. It was a defining moment. He told these trooper-veterans that he wanted them to have a defining moment, too. As the saying goes, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
That memorial service was a defining moment for me as well. Living without my husband for the ten months he was in Viet Nam, not knowing whether he would live or die, and bearing our first child without him, were difficult moments in my life. But this commemorative event helped Frank and I connect our past to our present, and in some respects, helped define our future. We can see God orchestrating all the events in our lives, and turning difficult situations into something good.
Frank showed his emotional investment in these troopers when he spoke at this memorial. At that moment he was no longer their boss, he was one of them. He had walked where they walked.
As a fiction writer, I must make the same kind of emotional investment. My readers must make a powerful connection with my characters to be drawn into the story. For them to make that connection, I must be drawn into the story as well. Maybe that’s why fiction writers feel like their characters are real.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Rafting on the River
No, I'm not planning on river rafting on the Delaware while it overflows its banks after Hurricane Irene.(Thankfully, all of my family and friends are safe.) I did, however, accompany Huck Finn on his trip down the Mississippi this week while we waited out the storm.
This read has been wonderful research for my middle grade Underground Railroad novel, When It's Dark Enough, You Can See the Stars..I learned that mattresses were called ticks, and could be stuffed with straw, and well-to-do folks topped it with a feather tick. Poor folks used corn husks, which could be uncomfortable with the occasional corn cob stabbing you in the back.
Reading a book published in the nineteenth century gave me a surprising perspective. Huck wrestles with his desire to set Jim, a slave, free. Jim belongs to someone else, and is stolen property. Whereas we would see this as a noble endeavor, Huck viewed it the way many people in his time did: he was stealing goods and sinning against God and Jim's owner. Huck assuages his guilt by writing a letter to Jim's mistress, Miss Watson, but never sends it. He says,"All right, then, I'll go to hell", and tears it up. Huck didn't realize he was making a choice of which God would approve.
The face of slavery has changed, but it is still out there. What do you think slavery looks like now? Let me know.
This read has been wonderful research for my middle grade Underground Railroad novel, When It's Dark Enough, You Can See the Stars..I learned that mattresses were called ticks, and could be stuffed with straw, and well-to-do folks topped it with a feather tick. Poor folks used corn husks, which could be uncomfortable with the occasional corn cob stabbing you in the back.
Reading a book published in the nineteenth century gave me a surprising perspective. Huck wrestles with his desire to set Jim, a slave, free. Jim belongs to someone else, and is stolen property. Whereas we would see this as a noble endeavor, Huck viewed it the way many people in his time did: he was stealing goods and sinning against God and Jim's owner. Huck assuages his guilt by writing a letter to Jim's mistress, Miss Watson, but never sends it. He says,"All right, then, I'll go to hell", and tears it up. Huck didn't realize he was making a choice of which God would approve.
The face of slavery has changed, but it is still out there. What do you think slavery looks like now? Let me know.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Plugging Away
Well, I've been working on my blog again.I found a funny picture, managed to load it, but couldn't crop the header to the size I want. Then I found a dynamic title: Scribbler's Travels. I published my first blog under that title, only to have a fellow writer tell me, "Hey, I found a picture of an old lady, and it's definitely not you."
Trouble is, I forgot to check Google to see how popular that name was. It seems a lot of people are scribbler travelers. Back to the drawing board. My new title is used less, so I'm hoping it comes up on the first page of a Google search.
When we were at the beach last week, I learned that the horseshoe crab has been around since before the dinosaurs roamed the earth. It's hard being a dinosaur in a techno-savvy world, but if a horshoe crab can learn to live in the modern world, so can I.
Trouble is, I forgot to check Google to see how popular that name was. It seems a lot of people are scribbler travelers. Back to the drawing board. My new title is used less, so I'm hoping it comes up on the first page of a Google search.
When we were at the beach last week, I learned that the horseshoe crab has been around since before the dinosaurs roamed the earth. It's hard being a dinosaur in a techno-savvy world, but if a horshoe crab can learn to live in the modern world, so can I.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
History Lesson
Well, here it is next week, and I’ve just come back from a class on blogging. I get the gist of it, but still feel very incompetent. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I say it just takes an old dog longer.
Our family vacationed at Chincoteague, Virginia last week. We had perfect beach weather, and I found the perfect beach read. Nestled in the bedroom bookcase, my husband discovered Giants, a book that parallels the lives of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. Buried treasure. Maybe I couldn’t work on my middle grade Underground Railroad novel this week, but I could do research as I soaked in the sun and watched my grandkids play in the sand. Life is good.
I learned something interesting. There were no child labor laws back then. Abraham Lincoln’s father hired him out many times before Abe was twenty-one. Guess who got all the money? Yep, his dad. This was the cultural norm in the early nineteenth century. It was also the law. Abe felt a little like an indentured servant. I had to go back and rewrite a bit of my book when I found this gem.
History gives us perspective. It’s kind of like growing old. We have a lot more wisdom when we can see where we’ve been.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
New Beginnings
Well, here I am, cracking open the "cellar door" of my blog, which hasn't seen a post in over a year.
Oops.
At the last writers' conference which I couldn't attend, one of the speakers said you must have a blog if you are a writer, and every writer needs to post at least once a week.
Oops again.
Well, the truth is, I'm on a new threshold. The cellar in my fantasy novel, Beyond the Red Door, has just been transported back in time. Joyce Magnin, my writing mentor and friend, recommended I shelve Red Door and start an historical novel about a slave boy who runs away on the Underground Railroad. When I did that, my writing went up a notch. It flowed. I knew it was the right thing to do.
I have noticed that before novelists get that first contract, most of them write one or two books that don't get published. I spent fifteen years writing and rewriting one book. For years I called it my learn-how-to-write book. Now I know the pain and freedom of letting a pet project go. It is time to move on.
Maybe I will be able to incorporate the first book into a sequel.These two books have some things in common. They both involve a cellar that was once used to hide saves on the Underground Railroad, and they have the same theme: freedom from slavery.
Will I blog next week? Will the theme of my blog change? Tune in next week to find out.
Oops.
At the last writers' conference which I couldn't attend, one of the speakers said you must have a blog if you are a writer, and every writer needs to post at least once a week.
Oops again.
Well, the truth is, I'm on a new threshold. The cellar in my fantasy novel, Beyond the Red Door, has just been transported back in time. Joyce Magnin, my writing mentor and friend, recommended I shelve Red Door and start an historical novel about a slave boy who runs away on the Underground Railroad. When I did that, my writing went up a notch. It flowed. I knew it was the right thing to do.
I have noticed that before novelists get that first contract, most of them write one or two books that don't get published. I spent fifteen years writing and rewriting one book. For years I called it my learn-how-to-write book. Now I know the pain and freedom of letting a pet project go. It is time to move on.
Maybe I will be able to incorporate the first book into a sequel.These two books have some things in common. They both involve a cellar that was once used to hide saves on the Underground Railroad, and they have the same theme: freedom from slavery.
Will I blog next week? Will the theme of my blog change? Tune in next week to find out.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Reality check
My character, Zach, imagines himself hurtling through space past stars and planets, headed for whatever exciting destiny lays before him. He is rudely awakened from his daydream when his sister yells from the kitchen. Reality check.
I dream of getting published, having a best-seller, and encouraging children in their own journey with God. The truth is, the agent and publisher voices out there bring me back to the real world. It's tough to break into the book market.
I attend workshops, and conferences. My indispensable writer's group friends help me dump adverbs, dialogue tags, unnecessary back story, passive tenses, etc. But good writing isn't enough.(Sigh) You have to be dedicated to your craft. You have to write about a subject people find interesting or entertaining.You have to know how to market your book. And you have to make connections. Relationships in publishing are important. Someone in the business needs to see your talent and recommend you.
In my book, Zach finds Someone who is necessary for him to find his destiny. We all need that essential relationship to find our way. God planned that from the beginning. Our relationshhip with Jesus is key to our final destiny.
At the end of the book, Zach still doesn't know where he's going, but he knows Who is taking him there. Even though I don't know who will publish me, I know Who guides my journey.
I dream of getting published, having a best-seller, and encouraging children in their own journey with God. The truth is, the agent and publisher voices out there bring me back to the real world. It's tough to break into the book market.
I attend workshops, and conferences. My indispensable writer's group friends help me dump adverbs, dialogue tags, unnecessary back story, passive tenses, etc. But good writing isn't enough.(Sigh) You have to be dedicated to your craft. You have to write about a subject people find interesting or entertaining.You have to know how to market your book. And you have to make connections. Relationships in publishing are important. Someone in the business needs to see your talent and recommend you.
In my book, Zach finds Someone who is necessary for him to find his destiny. We all need that essential relationship to find our way. God planned that from the beginning. Our relationshhip with Jesus is key to our final destiny.
At the end of the book, Zach still doesn't know where he's going, but he knows Who is taking him there. Even though I don't know who will publish me, I know Who guides my journey.
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