Researching Indianola

Got back from my vacation ready to plow into my wip and finish that baby. Hubby and I tootled down to the coast and spent three nights enjoying the scenery and good food. Of course, we had to share with the ton of college kids on spring break but we only had one bad night of no sleep where the party next door got rather loud and obnoxious. And dang - they didn't invite the old folks. What's up with that?


Our first day took us to Port A. The weather was rainy but we didn't mind. We were there to just relax and hang out.

The following day, we headed to Fulton and had the best seafood. I'm still stuffed just thinking about it. We went to the Rockport museum and refreshed our memories on La Salle's Belle. I'd gone about 15 years ago with a group of students to see the excavation. Very interesting as they'd created a void in the ocean around the Belle's reckage so they could excavate. We took a boat and could see down into the cofferdam they'd built. After this field trip, we took another to TAMU and saw how they were preserving the various items rescued from the find. We also went to the Fulton Mansion, a very impressive Victorian structure.

The next day we spent at Port Lavaca where we saw the Halfmoon Reef Lighthouse. It survived the hurricane of 1875 at Indianola so this fascinated me. We had to wait until the following day to visit the Calhoun County Museum where I could really find the information I was seeking.

So - with that, I'm going to post the rest tomorrow. Off to enjoy a date with my mother.

How 'bout an excerpt?

Given it's such a lovely spring day here in Texas and I just love the cover of The Keeper of Moon Haven as it reminds me of spring, I thought an excerpt might be fun.  This one occurs after Noreen reads from Belatania's Diary over and over again in an effort to summon the Keeper. Of course, he's rather stubborn and doesn't come right away but waits until she's almost hoarse.

With bent head, she continued, determined to read the entire passage once more. “Sir Fenot! Come quick!”
“Wizard Tartel Fenot froze at the terror he heard in the child’s voice.” A deep, masculine voice read in unison with her own, then continued when she stopped reading. “Only fear for his life would garner such strong emotion in the young elf.”

She whirled toward the sound and shrieked. Jumping from the rocker, she turned her back to the man and slammed the book shut. A cloud of dust flew. Panting, she set the heavy book on the bed and leaned over it. Merciful heavens, the man had been bare-chested. She closed her eyes and fanned warm cheeks.

“Is that anyway to greet a guest?”
She shrieked again, picked up the book, and held it like a shield.
“Ssh. You’ll have the entire household here posthaste if you keep crying like a banshee.”

She froze. Her breath came rapid and loud. Slowly she turned to face the intruder, keeping her eyes averted. She couldn’t stare at the man because of his state of undress, but she couldn’t turn her back on him either. Her gaze fixed on his face. “What do you want?”


“Want?” The corners of his lip lifted. “I was under the impression, ’twas the other way around. I believe you summoned me.”

The book slipped from her fingers and landed with a thud on the hard floor. The Keeper? No, it couldn’t be. Her gaze fastened on the now closed book. Why was he still here if she’d broken the bridge? She’d expected another troll, not a virile man. What sort of monster had she summoned? How could she make him leave?

The floor creaked. Her gaze snapped to his. Without thought to her own state of dishevelment, she shrugged out of her dressing robe and shoved it at him. “The—the least you can do is cover yourself.”

He inspected the frilly robe and laughed, a hearty rumble that sent goose-chills along her arms. “While I appreciate the offer, I couldn’t possibly fit into such a small and dainty garment.”

All coherent thought fled. What should she do? A man stood before her, a man with hardened muscles
the color of over-creamed tea. Dark, swarthy. She thought of pirates of old. Her gaze trailed upward, following the stark indentions that defined each muscle. Shadows caressed smooth skin and accentuated the hard planes of his body. Corded neck muscles flowed gracefully into a square jaw
line. Full lips and a bent nose lent him a sinister appearance. Obsidian eyes glittered from behind thick, black lashes.

She’d never before been so intrigued by a man’s looks, but tonight she found herself staring with more appreciation than was seemly. Magnificent, the man arrested her attention when propriety dictated she should look elsewhere.

When it was discovered she’d not only seen but conversed with a troll and an elf, she’d be locked away in an asylum for the insane. And now? Merciful heavens, now, she entertained a half nude man in her bedroom and she, a maiden still. She knew well the repercussions from such a scandal. Hadn’t her sister suffered a similar fate? Oh, the irony.

The Keeper of Moon Haven can be found at Amazon and All Ebooks Romance.

Spills

Nope, not talking about liquid spills. Talking about wood shavings.
I learned something new today! I love when I learn something new. There are certain items we take for granted even when writing historical fiction. Fire is one. I always assumed the fire would be there when needed. If the fire wasn't already going in the story, then flint?

I never even thought to do a history search on matches, but after today's brief visit with our local tool expert, I did just that. First evidence of a match is around 577 in China but then the miracle was lost and it wasn't until 1826 that matches were re-invented. Even then, they probably weren't used much until after 1860.

In the meantime, what did folks do to preserve the fire? One thing they used was a "curfew", a fire cover. At night, the coals were raked to one side and placed in the chimney recess, then covered to keep it going until dawn. But let's say you need to light a candle. That's where the spill comes into play.

Woodworkers would plane wood and the spill or curled shavings from the wood would be saved and kept in a special cup. They could then use these curled bits of wood to carried the flame from one location to another. Spill planes were built just for planing the wood to get these special curls.

My buddy came into my art room to show me his handbuilt spill plane and proceded to give me a brief history lesson at the same time. Wow. Just amazed. So yeah, my next historical will mention spills.

Change is good

This is my new mantra for the year. If I tell myself this often enough, it must be true. Right?

I've been doing basically the same things for 25 years, but all of a sudden things at work are changing. Next year, I'll be in a new room with new duties. I may have to teach a new course. My best friend at my school is moving to the new school they just built. I've also gained new responsibilites.

Don't get me wrong. I love challenges but don't hit me with them all at once. Yikes!

On the other hand, all of this change is giving me a ton of new ideas for various characters. I'm at 60,000 words on my newest wip with hopes of wrapping it up at 80,000. My goal is to finish the story by spring break. Wish me luck.

We have a house guest

My husband was cleaning for super bowl party. Sweeping out on the back porch, he turned around just in time to avoid the "shit bomb." Splatted on top of the glass topped table was the largest pile of bird poop. He's always finding evidence of our friendly birds and has never thought much about it but since this was rather fresh, he looked up to see if he could find the miscreant.

Perched in our eaves was a sleepy-eyed owl. Seems he's rather fond of our porch roof. Though you can't tell by this photo, he's rather small, about the size of my husband's hand. Too fun.

Strange Weather

Texas has some of the most bizzarre weather but still, I won't complain - too much. Friday was quite the day. It dawned rather foggy and misted off and on, but the temperature was about 70 all day. Very pleasant for winter, which is what made that evening's storm so unusual.

I finished cooking around 6:30 and invited my son to come over to eat. Chili was a bribe to get him to look at my computer and help his dad move something heavy. He showed up right before 7:00 PM. The storm hit right after he arrived. He glanced down at his phone that had just signaled a message and said, "My Aggie Alert system says we're under a tornado warning." No worries. We went about our business inside the house knowing if we heard the "roaring train" sound we'd need to head for the hall closet.

Fifteen minutes after that, the rain fell in torrents, pounding the metal roof. My husband had already been next door to the rent house to make sure the gutter he'd just installed worked and the trenches he'd dug were helping to keep the one end of that house dry. So far, so good. But the thunder and lightening made us turn off computers.

Thirty minutes into the storm, the garage flooded. We rushed out to save anything that was on the floor that could be ruined. The water continued to rise. The boys braved the elements and opened the garage door from the outside about two inches and a woosh of water trailed toward the drive. Right after that, water seeped into our back room. Luckily, that room is under construction for remodelling and all we had were cement floors.

And that's when the hail hit. It hailed for a good five minutes. Hail with a diameter of nickle rained on the metal roof. We looked out the front door to check on the cars. Mine was parked on the curb under a tree limb. I was concerned the limb would break. DH laughed and said, the limb was protecting the dar from damage. My son's car was also under a tree limb. The truck, on the other hand, well -- it's just a truck so no worries, right?

Held captive in the house with no computers or TV for about 45 minutes, my son was at my disposal and I put him to work. We rearranged my office, moving around the computer stuff so it would be more efficient for writing. God, I love that boy.

But when it was over, check out the ice piles. Yeah, ice piles in 70 degree weather. Go figure.

Why did I choose Indianola?

I'm working steadily to finish what I thought would be a novella set in Indianola, Texas in 1875, but I have 50,000 words already and I'm no where near the end of my story so....could this be another full length novel? As a pantser I won't know until I reach the end but it's looking that way.
I chose the town because I wanted a ghost town. Ghost towns have a fascination unlike real or fictional towns in that they possess mystery. Why did the town die? I wanted that part of the town to be a real element in the story. At the time I went searching for a setting, I had no idea how that history would play into my story but wow - I'm so excited about this one.

Indianola rivaled Galveston back in the day and was known as "the" port for shipping and for newly arrived immigrants. It was perfectly situated with easy access. In fact, it was the county seat at the time, but nature had other plans. A very distructive hurricane swept through in on Sept 16, 1875. Folks managed to rebuild, but another hurricane in 1886 sealed her fate and the post office was officially closed in 1887.

After reading some of the town's history, I told my mom about my selected location and she got all excited. She actually had a book on the town's history because she's huge into geneaology and that's the port where my forefathers entered the US for the first time. Having the book made my research go a lot smoother. Yes, there's plenty of info on the Internet, but not the wonderful tidbits offered by Indianola: The Mother of Western Texas by Brownson Malsch.

Even more fascinating is the culmination of the Sutton/Taylor feud. The trial of Bill Taylor was in progress when the hurricane hit so the town was full of visitors seeking a bit of excitement. I started my story in August and I'm now at the point where the hurricane hits. Can't wait to see how my hero and heroine react, how they survive. So many lost their lives to nature's destructive forces.

I'm planning a trip to the actual site sometime in March. I'll post pictures later.