I’m an irregular blogger. I only post when I feel I have something interesting, clever, funny, or informative to say, but I’m a quiet person, both in person and on paper, and meaningful conversations develop slowly (if at all). My blog forces me to spend time in my head, trying to be poetic, to be a writer that people will want to read. For me, planning a blog post is an enjoyable mind-puzzle–more personal than a Sudoku, more challenging than a crossword, with no wrong answers but with some solutions being much better than others.

I’ve been in my head a lot the past few weeks, but I don’t feel like words are coalescing into anything worthwhile. A part of my life has been crumbling all around me, and I want to pick up the pieces through my writing and create something meaningful and beautiful. Something about my father. My father and I did not agree on very much, but he was a man with a large heart who wanted the best for everyone.

He died of cancer a few days ago. He was diagnosed with cancer only about three weeks earlier. For my family, death has moved swiftly.

I’ll write more when I can think what to say.

This blog post is a lame solution to my current mind-puzzle.  When I come up with something better, you’ll read it here.

Wendy Wetzel has won my blog/facebook name-your-favorit- children’s-story contest and will receive a copy of The Stolen Goldin Violin!

The Goodreads Giveaway winners are:

Katrina Buell, Indiana

Holly Kinsey, Georgia

Sam Pierce, Arkansas

Jo Ashley, North Dakota

Lionel Garcia, California

 

Their copies of The Stolen Goldin Violin are on the way.  I posted them today!

Thanks for playing and I hope readers enjoy our story!  If you didn’t win and would like to buy a copy, Order Here!

 

The Historical Novel Society conference in San Diego was wonderful! Historical novelists are such interesting, funny and fascinating people. I enjoyed chatting with people at dinners, listening to authors and editors at workshops, volunteering, and dressing up!

My favorite session was put on my Karlee Turner Etter and was called Nineteenth Century Fashion, From the Inside Out.

Karlee started the session wearing only a corset over a chemise (and thus I learned that no woman would ever wear a corset against her skin, because then she would have to wash it regularly and that was difficult to do.)

Then, piece by piece, Karlee got dressed, and while she got dressed she explained what the pieces were called, how they were worn, how often they were washed, and all sorts of incredibly interesting facts. When she was all dressed this is how she looked:

 

This dress represents what a middle to upper middle class woman would have worn in the 1880s / 1890s in America, and thus is similar to how my own Miss Olivia Snow would dress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wore my own costume in the Saturday evening costume pageant. I had nothing to do with making it, and would thank its creator if I had her name. This dress was a gift, but my aunt and I did make the mobcap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks to author Christopher Cevasco for taking this picture during the costume pageant. Here’s another he took of everyone at the pageant:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And finally, I have two close-ups of my mobcap. My aunt was so generous in her skills, materials and work in creating this cap in time for the pageant. (Thanks to Princess Esmerelda for modeling the cap, though it was too big for her)

 

 

 

 

Note Princess Esmerelda’s cute little tail below the cap:

I’m editing/revising and came across this typo

anti-antimacassar

Rather than just delete the extra anti-, I started wondering what exactly an anti-antimacassar might be.

For those of you who do not know, in the nineteenth century, many men wore macassar oil in their hair. An antimacassar was a cloth cover, often crocheted or embroidered, placed on the top of a sofa or chair to keep the macassar oil off the furniture. Even after macassar oil went out of fashion, antimacassars remained.

I remember a number of chairs in my grandmother’s house that always had a lace antimacassar pinned to the top. Knowing my grandmother, she probably knew the original purpose of the antimacassar and used the lace just to achieve that nineteenth century look.

I picture an anti-antimacassar as a person involved in a movement to simplify interior design by getting rid of the unnecessary, embracing the modern. Of course this movement would not be gentle and pleasant, but rabid and controversial. An anti-antimacassar would be a militant interior designer, bent on molding the world to his/her specifications. What do you think?

I need to get back to revising. Revising is hard and thinking about anti-antimacassars was so much more fun.

Yes, I know, I’m weird.

About thirty minutes ago I typed the last words to my fourth novel. What a great feeling!! I love finishing things.

Of course the words I typed might not be the “real” last words. The story is out, but I have many revisions to make. Today’s manuscript is not clean and ready to be read by a publisher / agent — but it’s close.

Wilde Wagers was both the hardest and the easiest book for me to write.

Easy, because Olivia Snow and Philip Lamb showed up regularly. I’ve never liked any characters as much as I like these two–really, they wrote themselves. The mystery and intrigue are complex, yet the tone is light-hearted. I was trying so hard to be literary and poetic in my first two novels that I think I struggled more writing them. Wilde Wagers is intended to be a fun romp, with mystery and romance thrown in.

Hard, because my mom loved this story. She loved Olivia and Genevieve, and every time we talked about the story and the characters, she always ended with one command: Write faster! I was writing fast, but not fast enough. After she died, I struggled with this story. How could I not? I had no one to talk to about these characters that she loved. Without her fire, my own spark went out. I couldn’t write anything, and when I did everything was flat and depressing.

I guess I have Olivia and Philip to thank for the end. They came to me and talked to me and pretty much demanded that the story be finished.

And now it is. I hope you get to read it some day.