DIME NOVELS LEAD THE WAY WEST

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     DIME NOVELS LEAD THE WAY WEST

If you’re anything like me, you’ve heard about dime novels all your reading life. Originally I believed there was only one form of dime novel, but I’ve learned that is far from the case.

Various forms of so-called
dime novels

The term dime novel, though it has a specific meaning, has also become a catch-all term for several different (but related) forms of late 19th-century and early 20th-century U.S. popular fiction, including supposedly true (yeah, right) dime novels, story papers, five- and ten-cent weekly libraries, “thick book” reprints, and sometimes even early pulp magazines. The term was being used as late as 1940, in the short-lived pulp Western Dime Novels. In spirit, dime novels are the antecedent of today’s mass-market paperbacks, comic books, and even television shows and movies based on the dime novel genres. "Dime novel" has become a term to describe any quickly written, lurid potboiler and as such is generally used as derisive term to describe a sensationalized yet superficial piece of written work. Call them what you wish, I yearn to own a few of the genuine old dime novels.

Generally, historians agree that the term "dime novel" originated with the first book in Beadle & Adam's Beadle’s Dime Novel series, MALEASKA, THE INDIAN WIFE OF THE WHITE HUNTER, by Ann S. Stephens, dated June 9, 1860. Aha! A female author breaking in a new tradition! I’m pleased to know that. The novel was essentially a reprint of Stephens's earlier serial that appeared in the Ladies' Companion Magazine in February, March, and April 1839. The dime novels varied in size, even within this first Beadle series, but were roughly 6.5 by 4.25 inches, with 100 pages. The first 28 were published without a cover illustration, in a salmon colored paper wrapper, but a woodblock print was added with issue 29, and reprints of the first 28 had an illustration added to the cover. The books actually were priced at ten cents.



This series ran for 321 issues, and established almost all the conventions of the genre, from the lurid and outlandish story to the melodramatic double titling that was used right up to the very end in the 1920s. Most of the stories were frontier tales reprinted from the vast backlog of serials in the story papers and other sources, as well as many originals.



Beadle’s Dime Novels were immediately popular among young, working-class audiences, owing to an increased literacy rate around the time of the American Civil War. By the War’s end, there were numerous competitors like George Munro and Robert DeWitt crowding the field, distinguishing their product only by title and the color choice of the paper wrappers. As a whole, the quality of the fiction was derided by higher brow critics and the term 'dime novel' quickly came to represent any form of cheap, sensational fiction, rather than the specific format.



Although the larger part of the stories stood alone, in the late 1880s series characters began to appear and quickly grew in popularity. The original Frank Reade stories first appeared in Boys of New York. Old Sleuth, appearing in The Fireside Companion story paper beginning in 1872, was the first dime novel detective and began the trend away from the western and frontier stories that dominated the story papers and dime novels up to that time. He was the first character to use the word “sleuth” to denote a detective, the word’s original definition being that of a bloodhound trained to track. Hooray for Frank Reade! I love reading mysteries with an amateur sleuth - a human sleuth, not a bloodhound.


By 1873, frontier stories, evolving into westerns (Hooray!), were still popular, but the new vogue tended to urban crime stories. One of the most successful titles, Frank Tousey’s New York Detective Library eventually came to alternate stories of the James Gang with stories of Old King Brady, detective.


Dime novels endeared western lore to the nation, even spreading throughout the world, as you’ll learn when you read Julie Garwood’s PRINCE CHARMING. (By now you know that book is one of my all-time favorites.) City people followed the exploits of legendary heroes in the West. Talk about literary license? The fact that most of the tales were pure drivel didn’t matter a whit to their eager audience. The lure was cast, and many took the bait and headed to America’s West.



Has a novel ever influenced you to try something new? 


Don't forget our Random Acts of Kindness Blog Hop. Each participating blog has a prize to offer.

Thanks for stopping by!

 

LINDA BANCHE SHARES REGENCY WEATHER

“Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” MARK TWAIN, editorial in the Hartford Courant, Aug. 24, 1897


Whether or not this quote is accurate, and there’s some doubt about its validity, the weather confounds us all.

Love it or hate it, the weather is always with us. My latest Regency comedy novella, AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, is set in England. Rainy, chilly England. Cold, damp England.


Well, not necessarily.


 England's climate is both colder and warmer than that of the United States. The Gulf Stream crosses the Atlantic to brush by the southern and western coasts of the island, creating milder weather than in New England, where I live. Palm trees grow in Cornwall, England’s southwestern most county. Snow is rare, especially in the south, as well as blazing hot temperatures. In 1818 London, according to the Royal Society’s Meteorological Journal, the temperature range for the year was 24 degrees F to 80 degrees F. Compare that to the Boston Massachusetts range of 6 F to 103 F from February 2011 to January 2012.

 But where there is weather, there are extremes. The summer of 1818 in England was one of the hottest on record to that time, with June and July the warmest. According to the Royal Society’s observations, the average London temperature for June was 66.1F, with a high of 78 F and a low of 57 F. For July, the average was 68.9F (high 80 F, low 61 F). Compare those readings, again according to the Royal Society’s London records, to the more typical year of 1817: June range 81 F - 47 F, average 62.8 F, and July range 70 F - 54 F, average 60.8 F.



The summer of 1818 was not pleasant in London. The River Thames, which, for all practical purposes was an open sewer, reeked more than usual. The streets, full of horses and their manure, reeked as well. With no air-conditioning, deodorants or running water, the people, dressed in their year-round woolens, did, too. The ever-present pall of coal smoke from thousands of chimneys added to the miasma.

In AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, my hero, Kit, abides in noxious London when he receives the letter from his late great aunt's solicitor informing him of a possible inheritance. In order to win her estate in Somersetshire, he must compete with her former companion. Their task: Make her pet ducks happy.



Idiotic the contest may be, but the prospect of a sizeable inheritance is enough to make him accept. Another lure is the trip to the country, where, although the temperatures may not be lower, at least the air will be cleaner.



BLURB:


Make the ducks happy and win an estate!



Mr. Christopher "Kit" Winnington can't believe the letter from his late great-aunt's solicitor. In order to inherit her estate, he must win a contest against her companion, Miss Angela Stratton. Whoever makes his great-aunt's pet ducks happy wins.

A contest: What a cork-brained idea. This Miss Stratton is probably a sly spinster who camouflaged her grasping nature from his good-natured relative. There is no way he will let the estate go to a usurper.



Angela never expected her former employer to name her in her will. Most likely, this Mr. Winnington is a trumped-up jackanapes who expects her to give up without a fight. Well, she is made of sterner stuff.



The ducks quack in avian bliss while Kit and Angela dance a duet of desire as they do their utmost to make the ducks--and themselves--happy.



EXCERPT:


Yawning, he shut the door behind him. Enough ducks and prickly ladies for one day. After dropping his satchel by the bed, he dragged off his clothes and draped them over the chair back. He dug a nightshirt from the valise and donned the garment before he blew out both candles.



Bates had already drawn back the bedclothes. The counterpane was soft under Kit's palm, and covered a featherbed. He grinned. By any chance, had they used the down from the pet ducks to stuff the mattress and pillows?



After tying the bed curtains back, he settled into the soft cocoon and laced his fingers behind his head. Tomorrow, he would have it out with Miss Stratton about the steward's residence, but that was tomorrow. He fluffed up his pillow and turned onto his side…



"QUACK!"



A bundle of flapping, squawking feathers exploded from the depths of the covers and attacked him. Throwing his arms over his head for protection, Kit fell out of bed. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, the thrashing, quacking explosion battering him. A serrated knife edge scraped over his upper arm. "Ow!" Batting at the avian attacker with one hand, he groped for the latch with the other.



The door swung open. Miss Stratton, her candle flame flickering, dashed into the chamber. "Esmeralda, you stop that right now!"



The feathered windstorm quacked once more and, in a graceful arc, fluttered to the floor.



Kit lowered his arms and gave a mental groan. A duck. He should have known.



AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS, part of The Wild Rose Press’s Love Letters series, is available from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other places ebooks are sold.

Thank you all,


Linda


Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com
http://lindabanche.blogspot.com
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Thanks to Linda for her post. Her stories are fun to read, and I'm eager to read AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS.


Thanks for stopping by!

HEAT UP VALENTINE'S DAY WITH SNOWFIRES

Happy Valentine’s Day! What’s better on a wintry day than curling up with the one you love? I’m so happy you asked. Whether the weather outside is frightful or delightful, snuggle with your sweetie, your favorite beverage, and a sizzling book. And I have a book to suggest, just as you knew I would!



But first, here's the story of how I came to write SNOWFIRES. My husband and I were traveling from visiting our family in West Texas back to our North Central Texas home. Three days before, a deep snow had postponed our return. When there's a blizzard or freezing weather, Texans often joke that there's nothing but a barbed wire fence between us and the North Pole. Brrr, that trip I certainly believed that saying.

As Hero and I drove home, I once again commented on the isolation of the homes in countryside dedicated to ranching. That kernel grew into the story, SNOWFIRES.

We passed many isolated areas, and I wondered what would happen if someone had car trouble or became marooned in a storm. Even in good weather, cell phone service is often spotty in the ranching areas of West Texas. In bad weather, it’s non-existent. Rural electric and telephone lines fail under heavy snow and ice. Better and better, right? By that, I mean worse and worse for the characters. The more I thought about it, the more appeal the idea held.



 The barbed wire fence between
us and the North Pole
By Steve Shames

 For you city readers, if you're driving in a rural area and see a bluish light shining from the barn or garage or a pole in the yard, that's a mercury vapor light similar to city street lights. Hero and I have one of these lights by our garage. We had often joked about the mercury vapor light salesman having made his way through the area because most ranch homes had at least one of the lights.


Writers spin stories with “what if.” What if there were a blizzard and one those mercury vapor lights acted as a lighthouse does to ships? What if the hero and heroine were at odds and became snowbound at one of these ranches? Better, what if the ranch owners weren’t home and the hero and heroine were isolated alone? Would they work through their differences or call a temporary truce?


The heroine who spoke to me was Holly Tucker, a lovely and determined woman of twenty-nine. A nurturer, Holly cared for her family and for the employees of her firm. Thirty-six-year-old Trent Mcleod began life with nothing and built his fortune through hard work and good investments. Now he is part of Holly’s formerly family-only company. That would be bad enough, but he wants to change the rules established by her late father, Walter Tucker.


Once they returned to Dallas, I forced them to endure still working together. Writers love to make their characters suffer. After all, we want them to earn their happiness, don’t we?


The SNOWFIRES cover reminds me of the late January night my husband and I were married. That night there were a couple of feet of snow on the ground and a bright, full moon. Of course it was gorgeous and memorable, and we still mention it today when we see an especially bright full moon. But then, we are both romantics at heart.

Here’s the blurb for SNOWFIRES:



A blizzard can’t quench the fiery heat of passionate attraction. Holly only intended to get a little of her own back from Trent, not get them lost in the worst blizzard in decades. A snowstorm can’t keep them apart once their passions ignite. Holly Tucker believes Trent Macleod will ruin her family’s business now that he’s acquired her late father’s shares. Not only that, she fears he’s responsible for her father’s fatal heart attack. She’ll stop this corporate pirate any way she can. If only she could tame her hormones when he was around. He believes she’s a spoiled and pampered woman. Little does he know how wrong he is. Pampered by her grandparents, yes, but she carries all the responsibility for her stepmother and two stepsisters. Only Holly’s constant juggling of family finances covers her stepmother’s excessive spending. That and the fact Holly actually works in the family business.



Trent started with nothing and saved most of his life for this one big chance. Holly’s trick to delay their return to Dallas for an important meeting almost cost him his dream. After battling all his life against bad foster parents, crooks, and the press, he is determined no one will defeat him, not even Holly. How can she still believe her father was such a great guy? Trent doesn’t know why she is so opposed to every thing he suggests for the company. Thank heavens she is not so stand offish when they’re alone. She even invited him around her country club friends. Does a guy from nowhere stand a chance with a society princess like Holly? He prays he does, because he can’t get her out of his dreams, day or night. What will it take for him to achieve happily ever after with Holly?


Here’s the excerpt from the first night they’re marooned in the freezing, tiny ranch house. You might like to know that Grayson is her maternal grandfather: 

Trent smiled as he recalled her shocked expression when he mentioned shared body heat. At least he got a little of his own back then. She turned toward him in her sleep, snuggling up to him with her palms against his chest, one leg thrown over his.


He fought the instinct to pull her even closer and make passionate love to her. They fit so well together. He wondered how she would be as a lover, then mentally kicked himself for that line of thought.


Now he knew why the young Martin family had children so close in age. On this sagging mattress, which forced their bodies into intimate contact, a man and woman who loved one another would be drawn naturally into frequent lovemaking. Even with this ice princess with whom he had nothing in common, his mind and body cried out for their coupling.


He had no idea why she so resented him. It was more than their differences in business theory, because she had hated him at their first meeting two months ago. He racked his brain for a possible reason, but nothing came to him.


Maybe she just resented his buying the shares lost through her father's gambling. Why hold him responsible for her father’s stupidity? From all accounts, Walter Tucker was charming and glib but an absolute loser in all the ways that counted.


Grayson skirted the issue, but made it clear he hadn’t approved of his late son-in-law's management of Marvel, his ostentatious lifestyle, or his choice of Holly’s stepmother. So, why had Grayson stayed in the background? Buying into what had previously been solely a family-owned business left Trent an outsider with insufficient information.


If only Walter Tucker had stopped ranting long enough that day to listen to him...but why even go there? He would figure it all out eventually, but so far hadn't discovered how all the pieces fit. Trying to unravel the puzzle, Trent drifted softly to sleep.


***


The pirate returned to Holly's dreams. They were in the cabin of his ship, snug together in his bunk. This time his caresses inflamed her beyond her wildest imagination. Her fingers traced the line of the scar on his chest, her lips trailed kisses along the jagged ridge.


His mouth scorched a path down her neck and across her shoulders. Strong hands pushed her bra aside. Warm lips found her breast and his tongue laved her rigid nipple. The calluses of his fingers scintillated her skin as they moved to the elastic of her panties. His hand slid gently inside to touch her—


Her eyes flew open. "Hey! Stop it right now." Holly pounded Trent on his shoulders. "Get off of me."

I hope you’ll want to read SNOWFIRES. This is NOT erotica, but is probably the hottest book I have written or will write because I seem to be moving toward sweet and/or slightly sensual.


The Amazon Kindle buy link is


http://www.amazon.com/SNOWFIRES-ebook/dp/B004LROUH2/ref=sr_1_7?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1329016651&sr=1-7

Smashwords is http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/36055?ref=CarolineClemmons

Thanks for stopping by!

FAVORITE ROMANCE NOVELS

February is the month of love, and that brings romance novels to my mind. What are your favorite romances? As and author, I know literally hundreds of people who write and whose books I read. But there are books that I hold as sterling examples of the craft I love. There are several books I reread - to study and for pure pleasure - at least once a year. Here are five of them:

The first is THE PROMISE OF JENNY JONES by Maggie Osborne. It’s out of print now, but is probably the most unusual romance I’ve ever read. For starters, the heroine is almost six feet tall, cusses, smokes cigars, and works as a muleskinner. (For you contemporary readers, that means she drives a freight wagon pulled by mules). Early in the book we learn what makes Jenny tick. She is stuck in a Mexican jail for killing a soldier who tried to rape her. She explains why she wouldn’t lie to save herself from a firing squad.


"Honesty is all I’ve got . . .I don’t have family. I don’t have beauty, or a man. I don’t have money, and I sure as hell don’t have a future. All I’ve got to prop up my pride is my word . . . When Jenny Jones says something, you can bet your last peso it’s true."


But she does have a future because a dying woman trades places with her, and so begins her eventful journey. All of Maggie Osborne’s heroines are unusual women.

LORD PERFECT and MR. IMPOSSIBLE are by Loretta Chase. Choosing between these books would be difficult, but I lean toward the former. What is better than watching a perfect man’s world crumble because of a strong yet unsuitable woman? I love all of Loretta Chase’s books for her wonderful descriptions and unusual characters. And what lovely names she uses! I love the way Loretta Chase introduces the hero in LORD PERFECT.

The artist heroine, Bathsheba Wingate, watches the hero in the book’s opening. The setting is a London museum and the hero is Benedict Carsington, Viscount Rathbourne, heir to the Earl of Hargate (and Lord Perfect).


He leant against the window frame, offering those within the exhibition hall a fine rear view of a long, well-proportioned frame, expensively garbed. He seemed to have his arms folded and his attention upon the window, though the thick glass could show him no more than a blurred image of Picadilly.

 Supremely assured. Perfectly poised.

Immaculately dressed. Tall. Dark.

It was clear in any case that the exhibition within—of the marvels Giovanni Belzoni had discovered in Egypt—had failed to hold his interest.


The woman surreptitiously studying him decided he would make the perfect model of the bored aristocrat



He turned his head, presenting the expected patrician profile.


It wasn’t what she expected.


She couldn’t breathe.


In the next scene, the hero describes the heroine in such delightful detail that I believe it's perfect:


She was the sort of woman who made accidents happen, simply by crossing the street.

She was the sort of woman who ought to be preceded by warning signs.
From a distance, she was breathtaking.


Now she stood within easy reach.


And now . . .


Once, in the course of a youthful prank, Benedict had fallen off a roof, and briefly lost consciousness.


Now, as he fell off something and into eyes like an indigo sea, he lost consciousness. The world went away, his brain went away, and only the vision remained, of pearly skin and ripe plum lips, of the fathomless sea in which he was drowning . . . and then a pink like a sunrise glowing upon finely sculpted cheekbones.


A blush. She was blushing.


His brain staggered back.



 Sigh, can you blame me for studying Loretta Chase’s writing?

PRINCE CHARMING and FOR THE ROSES are by Julie Garwood. These are her only forays into western historicals. PRINCE CHARMING begins in England, but moves through the U.S. to Montana. I love both the heroine Taylor Stapleton, and the hero Lucas Ross. FOR THE ROSES has a group of ragtag boy heroes who raise a young baby they find in a New York dustbin. Sounds impossible? Unfortunately, it still happens every day in America. These characters come alive for the reader.



Rereading these books still brings me pleasure and helps me understand the structure that keeps me engaged. None is the first romance I read, but they continue to be my favorites.


What are your favorite romances?


Thanks for stopping by!

BOOK REVIEW - KANE'S REDEMPTION

My friend and fellow Sweethearts of the West author, Cheryl Pierson, has a release that is a departure for her in that KANE’S REDEMPTION is told in first person by a ten-year-old boy. This novella is charming on many levels. I intended just to read a bit in support of Cheryl, who is a nice person and a great writer. Immediately, I was engaged and unable to stop reading until the story’s very satisfactory conclusion.

In KANE’S REDEMPTION, Will Green is the boy who has been captured by a band of raiding Apaches after watching his family killed. Will fights for his life when he is taken prisoner. He’s lost count of how many days the Apaches have traveled, but he knows the band’s leader Red Eagle toys with him and will soon torture him. Steeling himself for death, Will vows he will not cry or let the Apache know how frightened his is. He's shocked when a lone man walks into the Apache camp to rescue him several days later.

Driven by the secret he carries, Jacobi Kane has followed the Indians for days and needs to make his move to save the boy. With the odds stacked eight against one, his chances for success look pretty slim. But even if he's able to rescue the boy and they get out alive, what then?

But Jacobi Kane does rescue Will. In turn, Will rescues him. I’d tell you how, but you owe it to yourself to experience firsthand this story's pleasure.

Here’s the Amazon link:
http://www.amazon.com/Kanes-Redemption-Cheryl-Pierson/dp/1469971895/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_11

Cheryl Pierson, Author

KANE'S REDEMPTION author, Cheryl Pierson, is a romance author who loves to read and also teaches novel writing classes and is co-owner of West Winds Media, an editing/teaching business for writers. She writes short stories that have been published by Adams Media, novel manuscripts, and has written a screenplay. Her novel, FIRE EYES, was an Epic Award Finalist and Cheryl received the PNR PEARL Awards Honorable Mention as Best New Author of 2009. She also placed third in the San Antonio Romance Authors (SARA) Merritt Contest with her newest novel, GABRIEL’S LAW. Cheryl's Western/Time-Travel/Romance, TIME PLAINS DRIFTER, is available from Western Trail Blazer in both Ebook and print. To learn more about Cheryl and her exciting books, visit her at www.cherylpierson.com/

Here’s what Cheryl says about KANE’S REDEMPTION:

Rule #1 - I never write in first person.


Rule #2 - I never write from a child's point of view.


Rule #3 - I always have romance somewhere in my stories.


Well...one out of three ain't bad.


I threw Rule #1 out the window when I picked up my pen and started this book. I did write KANE’S REDEMPTION in first person. It's the first work of fiction I've ever written from this perspective, and after I wrote it, I knew there would be two more of these novellas to follow. There was no better way to tell this story of young Will Green and Jacobi Kane - and the secret that stands between them.


Will is a child when the story begins, but a young man by the conclusion. So, I guess you could say I broke my own "Rule #2" as well.


Growing up in the 1800's on the prairie of the southwest would make an adult of you quickly; even quicker if you watched your entire family murdered in the space of five minutes. This story is not just about Will, though - it's also about Jacobi Kane, who has some secrets of his own. Although he rescues Will, he wrestles with demons that can't be fought alone - but how can Will help? In the end, who is the true rescuer - Will, or Jacobi Kane?


Romance? Well, there's a bit of that. But it's the romance that comes with new beginnings and the kiss of forgiveness. Come to think of it, the romance in KANE’S REDEMPTION is different from anything else I've ever written, too.


This story came from somewhere deep; a place I didn't know existed. It's a gift I hope you will take as much pleasure in reading as I did in writing.


Look for Book 2 in the Kane trilogy, KANE’S PROMISE, in the fall of 2012.

I am supposed to disclose that I purchased KANE'S REDEMPTION and the opinion expressed is my own. In fact, I will be ordering the next two of the Kane trilogy the first day each is available!

Thanks for stopping by!

AUTHOR ELYSA HENDRICKS INTERVIEW

Today multi-published author Elysa Hendricks is here for an interview and a peek at one of her books.

Elysa Hendricks

Caroline: Readers love to get to know authors. Please tell us about growing up.



Elysa: I grew up in a pretty "normal" nuclear family, one mother, one father and one brother. My parents are still with us and getting ready to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary in March. Most of my childhood was spent in the Chicago, IL and Milwaukee, WI areas, with a short stretch outside of Madison, WI. My dad had itchy feet. He was always on the lookout for the next job, the next opportunity, so I ended up attending several grade schools and three different high schools. Moving around was difficult. I'd barely get comfortable in one area before we left for another. But the experience made me self-sufficient. Since I was always the "new" girl in town, I spent a lot of time reading and feeding my active imagination.


I'm long-time married to my very best friend. We've raised two wonderful sons and have a lovely daughter-in-law and one adorable granddaughter.

Elysa's parents March 2010

Caroline: Who are your favorite authors and favorite genres?

Elysa: There are too many authors to name them all, but I always make sure to read anything by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Her books make me laugh and cry and leave me feeling good. Though I tend to gravitate to romance stories with what author Cathy Linz calls the "woo-woo" factor aka paranormal/fantasy/sci-fi, I read all sub-genres of romance - historical, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, horror - as well as non-romance genre fiction. The only types of books I generally don't read are what I call Oprah books, books about miserable people leading miserable lives and dying miserably. I'm a sucker for a happy ending. If I want to read about misery I'll read the newspaper.


Caroline: My thoughts exactly. Who wants to volunteer to be depressed? When you’re not writing, what’s your favorite way to relax and recharge? Hobbies?

Elysa: Even though my thumb is only a very pale green, I love to work in my garden. There's something so satisfying about watching a plant grow and bloom. Of course I read voraciously. And I enjoy doing arts and crafts - everything from knitting to making jewelry.


Caroline: Describe yourself in three or four words.


Elysa: Fun. Energetic. Fair-minded. Adaptable.

Caroline: Would you like to share any guilty pleasures that feed your muse?

Elysa: My muse is a needy child, so I don't feel guilt over any pleasures I indulge in to feed her. Fortunately, she has a weakness for chocolate and usually settles down to work once I give it to her.


Caroline: How long have you been writing?


Elysa: Too long. Not long enough. If I tell you how long I've been writing you might figure out how old I am. Oh, what the heck. I started writing down stories as soon as I learned out how to make letters with my crayons. But I didn't attempt to write a book until Christmas Eve 1989. My first book took me three months to write, then I spent the next three years learning to write. That book will never be published - unless someday I become famous, someone finds it hidden under the bed with the killer dust bunnies, and decides to publish it.

Caroline: Most authors have one of those books hidden away. Where do you prefer to write? Do you need quiet, music, solitude? PC or laptop?


Elysa: I write at my desk in my office, which is situated at the front of the house with a nice view of the street. I like to see outside and have sunshine. I can write with music playing, but it has to be the kind without words otherwise I get distracted by the story in the song. I'll put on a CD, but when I'm writing I'm hearing the story, seeing the scenes, so when the CD ends I usually don't even notice.


Caroline: Are you a plotter or a panzer?

Elysa: Most definitely a pantzer. I've tried plotting out my stories, hoping that would help keep me from getting stuck mid-way through, but what happens instead is that once I know what's going to happen in the story I lose interest in it.

Caroline: Do you do your research before you begin a new project, or as you go along?


Elysa: A bit of both. Generally I just jump into a new story with a vague idea of where it's headed. Only once I get going do I know what I need to research. With my westerns I read extensively about the area and time period, focusing on non-fiction and fiction written during that time period. Since I hadn't been to Texas or New Mexico since I was a teenager, I studied maps, talked to people who lived there, and investigated the flora, fauna and weather of the areas. With the Internet research has become much easier. For one book I was researching the Las Vegas strip. Using Google Maps I was able to take a virtual trip down the whole Strip. Though I haven't been to Las Vegas since 1977 I felt like I'd spent the day there.

When I wrote THE BABY RACE, which is set on a horse rescue ranch, I visited HAHS http://www.hahs.org/ - Hooved Animal Humane Society - in Woodstock, IL and spoke with owners of other similar facilities. Since my hero is a saddle maker I contacted saddle makers.

Funny story. The one saddle maker I contacted only agreed to answer my questions if I assured him and his wife that there would be no premarital sex in my book. Fortunately, I could honestly say there wasn't any. It's a marriage of convenience story, so the hero and heroine are married when they consummate their marriage.

Caroline: Tell us about your writing schedule. Do you set goals? Do you write daily?

Elysa: I like to write in the mornings. That's when I have the most creative energy. Now, if I can just find a way to break my addiction to email, Facebook and the Internet I might manage to use that energy to write rather than goof off. To me goals are sort of like New Year's resolutions. I make them then I break them. I do make tons of lists with "Things to do," so I suppose that's kind of like setting goals.

Caroline: I’m a list maker, too. Do you write full time or do you have a day job. If you have a day job, what is it?

Elysa: I'm fortunate that I don't need to work a full time job. I do have a part time job as a text book buyer for a wholesale book company. It's not as exciting as it sounds. At the end of the college term I go to the college and buy back textbooks from the students. Talking with the kids is interesting.

Some days I write all day. Others I don't write at all. But I'm always working on my stories in my head. I walk for exercise and while I'm walking I'm working out bits of dialogue, considering plot points and figuring out what I need to research.

Caroline: Tell us something about yourself that might surprise readers.


Elysa: Sadly, I can't think of much about me that would surprise anyone. My life is basically vanilla bland boring. No secrets. No skeletons in my closet. No surprises. What you see is what you get. Guess that's why I write. In my books I get to be wild and crazy people. I get to go places, see things and do things I'd never consider in real life. My motto is: Boring is good. Excitement is vastly overrated.


I do have one small thing to reveal. On a couple of occasions I've gotten a premonition that I was going to win something in a raffle and I did. Of course, stuffing the box with dozens of raffle tickets didn't hurt.


Caroline: What is something unusual you learned while researching and writing this book?


Elysa: I wrote THIS HEART FOR HIRE and HER WILD TEXAS HEART back to back. After growing up watching sanitized westerns on TV and in the movies, researching the time period, the history, the people, and the locals of the American West was an eye opener. I learned that like the settlers the Indians were neither completely evil nor completely good, they were merely people. Much has been said about how the settlers stole this country from the Indians, how the government mistreated them. Sadly, most of it is true. But what I learned from my research is that when two opposing cultures come into contact it's unlikely that they'll both survive intact. The Western European culture and the American Indian cultures weren't compatible. They couldn't peacefully co-exist. One had to adapt to the other or be destroyed.

Caroline: What do you hope your writing brings to readers?


Elysa: First off I want to tell an interesting, compelling story about two people falling in love. In addition I hope my stories inform my readers about a time and place that no longer exists. Years ago I fell in love with Larry McMurtry's stories of the Old West, but at the end of them I always felt sad. So when I wrote my westerns I wanted to give my readers the same sense of gritty realism, but also a happy ending for the characters they'd come to care about.


Caroline: Thank heavens! I love McMurtry’s writing, but hate sad endings. What advice would you give to unpublished authors?


Elysa: Read - a lot! And write - a lot! In order to become an accomplished writer you'll need to put tens of thousands of words on paper. Most of those words will never be published and probably shouldn't be. Someone said that an author has to write a million words before they've honed their craft. Malcolm Gladwell in his book THE OUTLIERS refers to the 10,000-hour rule: "In order to become an expert in any field you need to work at it for 10,000 hours." So what it boils down to is write, write, write, then write some more.


Caroline: Tell us about your latest release.


Elysa: HER WILD TEXAS HEART is the companion book to THIS HEART FOR HIRE.

Blurb for HER WILD TEXAS HEART:


In a lawless west Texas border town, a woman has two choices: death or dishonor. Doctor's apprentice and former Comanche slave, KC O'Connor finds a third--she buries her femininity and longing for love beneath a boyish disguise. But the arrival of an injured greenhorn shatters the shell around her hidden heart.


Excerpt:


Arms and legs at odd angles in death, a man lay on his side amid the rocky, scrub covered ground. Blood covered his upper back, but the bullet hole in his coat, just below his left shoulder, was small.


KC leaned over him and fingered the rich cloth. Once she'd soaked out the blood, she could easily mend it.


She turned her attention back to the man at her feet. Too bad he was dead. Thick, gold blond hair covered his head and stubble of beard shaded his square chin. Beneath his tan, his strong classic features had a pale, waxy look. A thin trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth. Creases bracketed that same mouth, indicating he had either smiled or frowned a lot. KC bet on the former. Blue, she thought, with that fair hair, his eyes would have been blue.


His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, his legs long and lean beneath his tight trousers. KC estimated his height at least six inches over her own five foot seven.


Though KC didn't much like men, she could appreciate this one's male beauty. Gold and bronze, he reminded KC of the pictures she'd seen in Mama's books, of the Greek god Apollo.


Books the Indians had torn apart and used to start the fire that...no, she wouldn't think about that time. She turned her thoughts back to the man.


There'd only been one shot during the night. That, in itself, was unusual. Peaceful, Texas was usually anything but. One shot in the dark meant a slow night. It awakened her from her nightmare and for that she'd been thankful.


The hot Texas sun beat down on KC's bent head. Sweat trickled between her breasts reminding her the dead didn't keep long in the heat. Already a lone buzzard circled above, waiting.


With a grimace of distaste, KC searched the man's pockets. Other than a pale, pink lace, nothing-of-a-handkerchief, they were empty. She stroked the soft silk, her rough fingers snagging the delicate fabric. With a scowl she shoved it into her vest pocket and continued her search.


Whoever shot the man also picked him clean. Probably Rico, she thought. That mean little snake would think nothing of shooting a man in the back. Rico must have been in a hurry, only the stranger's boots were missing.


Well, Rico's loss was KC's gain. Made of quality material, the stranger's clothes could be reused. The man's silk shirt alone had nearly enough fabric to make a shirt each for Eli and herself. KC silently thanked her deceased mother for the needlework lessons.


Already the morning had proven quite profitable. Just before dawn, shouts and gunshots roused her from her bed yet again. Peering out of the hayloft window, she caught a glimpse of Rico and his men taking off after a dark stranger riding a big rawboned horse. KC wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a woman riding double with the stranger. She wished the man luck and put the incident out of her mind. This was, after all, Peaceful. Shootouts and murders happened on a regular basis.


When KC came down from the loft, she found over a dozen books lying strewn on the barn floor. Beautiful, leather-bound, gold-embossed books, books like the ones Mama had so loved.


Glancing quickly around, she waited for someone to step out of the shadows to claim them. No one came. She collected them and carried them up to the loft. Before she hid them away, she stole a few minutes to stroke the smooth leather, to smell the familiar scent of paper and ink. Later she would open them and read the words, savoring them like the rare and wonderful things they were. Then she had scooted back down to begin the day's chores.


Sweat soaked through the bandanna tied around her forehead, and rolled down her chest and back under the heavy leather vest she wore. If she stayed to strip and bury the dead man, she wouldn't have time to slip away for a quick dip in the river before she'd be needed back at the stable.


Of course, she didn't have to bury the man. What was one more body in a town like Peaceful? This far from town no one would notice the smell. Even if they did, it wouldn't concern them, dead bodies were not uncommon in and around town. Few of those who died in Peaceful ever received a proper burial. Besides, the buzzards gathering above wouldn't leave much.


As if summoned, a buzzard landed a few yards away, its beady eyes focused on the man's still figure. KC gazed longingly at the silver swathe of water glistening in the distance then looked down at the man's lifeless form. She gave a resigned sigh.


"Don't worry stranger. The buzzards won't have you. And," something made her add, "I'll leave you enough so you won't meet your maker buck-naked."


Standing, KC swept the broad-brimmed hat from her head and shooed the buzzard away. The bird rose squawking into the air. It would be awhile before the ugly creature worked up its nerve to approach again. By then it would be too late.


KC knelt next to the man and grasped his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. Only when he lay flat on the ground did she realize the scope of the loss his death was. Beautiful, she thought. Even in death, his face held the power to move her. A lump formed in her throat. No matter how often she encountered it, the ending of a life affected her. Unbidden, tears stung the back of her eyes.


Savagely, she rubbed her knuckles into her eyes. She would not cry for some unknown man—no matter how beautiful. She never cried. She hadn't cried for Mama, or for Papa. She didn't cry for her lost brother, Brendan. Crying didn't bring the dead back. Crying didn't ease the pain of grief. She swallowed the lump in her throat, pressed her lips into a tight line and reached for the pearl buttons of the man's shirt.


His eyes blinked opened.


Shock held her rigid.


He reached out. His hand closed around her wrist, trapping her. His grip brought her nightmares to life.


A strangled shriek bubbled in her throat. Her heart pounded in fright. With a gasp, she yanked her hand free. Overbalanced she landed on her backside in the dust. She scooted away crab-like.


His hand fell limply to his side. "Please," he croaked. "Help me." Deep aquamarine eyes focused on her for just a moment, then flickered shut. Again, he lay still as death.


Trembling, KC crawled to his side and placed hesitant fingers on the column of his throat. There, beneath the warm, smooth skin, she could feel the blood pulsing through his veins.


Alive. He was alive!


Caroline: I loved that excerpt! And you know I love anything western especially if it includes Texas. Where can readers find your books?

Elysa: THIS HEART FOR HIRE
http://www.amazon.com/THIS-HEART-FOR-HIRE-ebook/dp/B005VF01TY


http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95878


http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/this-heart-for-hire-elysa-hendricks/1107511098

HER WILD TEXAS HEART
http://www.amazon.com/HER-WILD-TEXAS-HEART-ebook/dp/B007464OSM


https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/128511


Caroline: Anything else you’d like readers to know? How can readers learn more about you?

Elysa: I love hearing from readers and other authors. They can contact me through my web site or on Facebook.

http://www.elysahendricks.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Elysa-Hendricks-Author/137316289643103


Thank you so much for joining us today, Elysa. I wish you continued success with your writing career.
 
Readers, thanks for stopping by!

THE CASTLE ON THE HILL, WEATHERFORD TX

Several weeks ago, my daughter, Stephanie Smith, attended a weekend women’s conference near Weatherford, Texas. One of Stephanie's serious hobbies is photography. On a free afternoon, she took photos of the Pythian Home, also known as “The Castle on the Hill” and “The Castle That Love Built.” Since we combined our info with her photos (unless otherwise noted), we’re sharing credit on this post.

If you're driving west from Fort Worth, Texas on Interstate 20, when you reach the exit for Bankhead Highway, look north and you'll soon see a castle on the hill. This is The Pythian Home.

Pythian Home on Bankhead Highway
Weatherford, Texas

The Castle was proposed in 1895 and construction began in 1897. The Texas Pythian Home opened on March 1, 1909, as a home for widows and orphans of Knights of Pythias members. Three hundred acres were donated to the Pythians to build the castle-like structure. The castle was designed to house 250 people. At its peak, 500 people lived there. The administrative staff had their offices and quarters on the first floor. The second floor housed orphaned children, matrons and teachers along with classrooms and a large auditorium. The basement was divided into apartments for widows with children. The castle was designed with the intention of adding additional wings for housing as needed.


In 1914 all of the boys were moved into their new dorm. A girl’s only dorm was built in 1925. By the early 70’s the last remaining widow had died and there was no longer a need for widows to live at the Pythian Home due to the completion of a retirement home for aged Pythians in Greenville, TX.

 

From the beginning, the Home was designed to be totally self-sustaining. The Home had a large dairy operation and livestock was raised to provide meat for the residents. There were also huge vegetable gardens, orchards, a laundry, a hospital with a full-time Doctor and nurse on staff, a power plant generator and a water tower - even their own cemetery. The staff and children living at the Home kept busy maintaining all of the operations. Extra produce, fruit and milk produced by the Home was sold and provided substantial regular income.



By 1972 the FDA changed the regulations and most of those facilities, including the hospital and dairy, were shut down. They were no longer allowed to participate in the canning of their own produce and fruit, and by 1976 they were not self-sufficient. Some of the land has been sold. Once it reached to what is now Interstate 20. There is still some livestock on the grounds, for occasional income and meat. New child labor laws prohibited children from working the farm and kitchen.

 

Gatehouse is in need of repair.

The Home has suffered over the years due to the economy, but about 50 children still remain on site. Children no longer need to be related to a Knights of Pythias member, but are accepted as the need arises. The Home is not State funded and is operated mostly via donations and volunteers. The Pythian organization supports and organizes fundraises for these children, and most renovations are usually through volunteers and the generosity of the community and others. 
 

Knights of Pythias Meeting Hall.
 Second Floor
Weatherford, Texas Downtown Square

The Weatherford Knights of Pythias meeting hall is on the second floor of this building located on the southwest corner of the downtown square. Note that the crenelated roofline and the stationary knight facing east carry out the castle theme with a Templar flair. Meeting “castles” are located all over the United States, though many have been destroyed or are in sad repair.

Faith, Charity
Benevolence

The Knights of Pythias was the first fraternal organization to receive a charter under an act of the United States Congress. The order was founded by Justus H. Rathbone, who had been inspired by a play by the Irish poet John Banim about the legend of Damon and Pythias. This legend illustrates the ideals of loyalty, honor and friendship that are central to the order.


The order has over two thousand lodges in the United States and around the world, with a 2003 total membership of over 50,000. Some lodges meet in structures referred to as Pythian Castles. The order's auxiliaries are the Pythian Sisters, the less serious Dramatic Order Knights of Khorassan, The Nomads of Avrudaka, and two youth organizations: the Pythian Sunshine Girls and the Junior Order, Knights of Pythias for boys.

According to www.pythias-tx.org, “The Fraternal Order of the Knights of Pythias are pledged to the promotion of understanding among men of good will as the surest means of attaining Universal Peace. We believe that men and women, meeting in a spirit of goodwill, in an honest effort of understanding, can live together in a spirit of peace and harmony. We seek those who agree with this belief, and have a personal belief in a Supreme Being, to join our ranks in an effort to reach ‘Peace Through Understanding.’"

Knights of Pythias Castle, Fort Worth TX
Houses upscale business, offices
photo from Pythian website

In 1881 the first building ever built specifically for use as a Pythian lodge hall was erected in downtown Fort Worth. It was a three-story affair, a rarity at the time, costing a magnificent fifteen thousand dollars to construct. The cornerstone ceremony was presided over by Justus H. Rathbone, who had founded the Order Of The Knights of Pythias in 1864. The building is a Texas and National Historical Site.

Notable Pythian Knights include:
Hugo Black, U.S. Supreme Court Justice,
William Jennings Bryan, U.S. Secretary of State     and Presidential candidate
Warren G. Harding, U.S. President
Hubert Horatio Humphrey, U.S. Vice President
John Ellis Martineau, Governor of Arkansas, U.S. District Judge for the Eastern District of Arkansas
Richard Irvine Manning III, Governor of South Carolina
William McKinley, U.S. President,
Nelson A. Rockefeller, U.S. Vice President
Joe Rollins, Texas Attorney General, Houston Asst. City Attorney, Prominent Private Practice Attorney
Franklin D. Roosevelt, U.S. President
Sun Ra, Jazz Musician, Composer, and Band Leader
Lew Wallace, Territorial Governor of New Mexico, Major General (U.S. Army), Diplomat
Freddie Martin, Musician, Band Leader
James E. West, first professional Chief Scout Executive of the Boy Scouts of America
Francis E. Warren, First governor of Wyoming, long time senator of Wyoming
Louis Armstrong, Jazz musician, actor

As times change, all fraternal orders have seen their membership dwindle. I sincerely hope the Knights of Pythias’ efforts continue to support the Weatherford, Texas Castle on the Hill.

Does anyone in your family belong to a fraternal order?

Thanks for stopping by!