Welcome back! It's #SnippetSunday time again and I'm continuing with the short story I posted last week. Please make sure to visit the Snippet Sunday Facebook group and read the other snippets posted by authors. They're all amazing and include a variety of genres.
Out of Time follows a young woman searching for a lost family history. In the haunted town of Benton, she discovers that past and present memories overlap, and that ghosts aren't always what they seem.
A jackrabbit bounced across the road, skittering off into a ditch.
Benton used to be a thriving gold and silver mining community. Now the only residents were the owners of the town who maintained rough camping facilities for adventurous travelers, and the seasonal help who ran the inn for those tourists who preferred a bed and four walls. The main draw to Benton were the eight hot springs maintained for camping and inn guests.
She shut off the car, taking a deep breath when she opened the door. It was so quiet that the cooling car, with its pops and sighs, was louder than the insects and the birds. No cars passed, no people spoke, no music played. She ignored the sliver of…something…that traced down her spine. She’d never been here before, but the dry, chill air smelled like a memory; a memory she couldn’t quite picture. It stood there at the edge of her vision, teasing her. And then it was gone.
Oh lordy, lordy, lordy.
Can't you see this man on the cover of a historical novel??? He looks exactly as I imagine Olivier Duchon, my gold-mine manager who goes up against my lawyer when one of his men is injured the mine refuses to pay-out. I haven't written this novel yet, but now I have a visual to inspire me. I'm expecting to release it in early 2019.
Luke Evans IS quite a Tuesday treat. Not only is he delicious to look at but he has a fantastic singing voice. I'm sure this is because he had lots of practice on the London Stage before transitioning to Hollywood, playing in Avenue Q, Rent, and La Cava. Here's a fun clip from the Ellen DeGeneres Show >
He's currently staring in the new TNT show, The Alienist. According to TNT Drama, "The Alienist is a psychological thriller set in 1896 about the hunt for a serial killer responsible for the gruesome murders of boy prostitutes that have gripped New York City." Obviously not a rom com but it's received good reviews. Please leave a comment if you've seen it! Let us know what you think.
Have you seen the live action Beauty and the Beast? Luke plays one of my favorite villains of all time: Gaston. He is amazing in the part because he brings a humanity to Gaston that makes him almost believable; certainly believable within the context of the fairy tale; especially believable when compared to all the other characters, including Belle. If you haven't seen the live action Beauty and the Beast because you were afraid it would ruin your experience of the animated version? Put your fears aside and SEE IT this week! It's on Netflix. Then come back here and let me know that I was right, hehe. Or hell, let me know I was wrong. :-)
For your visual delight, Luke has been in the following movies that I would see:
The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies as Bard (2014)
Dracula Untold as Vlad (2014)
The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug as Bard/Girion (2013)
The Three Musketeers as Aramis (2011)
Immortals as Zeus (2011)
Robin Hood as the Sheriff's Thug (2010) - you get a two-fer treat with this one as it stars Russell Crowe
Clash of the Titans as Apollo (2010)
Where you can find Luke on social media:
Welcome to #SnippetSunday! Thank you so much for stopping by. Please make sure to visit the other amazing authors who have shared their writing with you. Click here to go to the Facebook group >.
Today I'm sharing the opening of a short story I submitted to a contest this past week. Out of Time follows a young woman searching for a lost family history. In the haunted town of Benton, she discovers that past and present memories overlap, and that ghosts aren't always what they seem.
The autumn sun burned in reds and golds as it set behind the desert mountains. Benton Hot Springs, an almost ghost town off California Highway 120, only six miles from Nevada, was home to approximately thirteen and a half souls, according to the welcome sign. Kayla was there to find answers. Looking around at what was left of the town, she wasn’t sure she’d find them. Weathered, wood buildings slumped in between sage bushes. Half-walls and crumbling stucco hinted at structures that had been. The shell of an old general store still stood, with no-trespassing signs affixed to the plywood covering where the windows should be.
There was a cemetery high on the hill overlooking town. Kayla would hike up there tomorrow morning to see if she could find the tombstone of her great-great-great-great Aunt Adeline.
On Wednesday, July 26th, after an afternoon at the Marjorie Russell Textile Research Center in Carson City, Nevada, I headed up to Virginia City. I’d never been there before--I knew there’d be a few old buildings, maybe a museum or two. I figured I could do some research on gold mining, and submerse myself into the atmosphere of the old west.
I checked into the Gold Hill Hotel (supposedly the oldest hotel in Nevada) on the outskirts of town. I’d booked a room in the older, original part of the hotel, thinking it would be more interesting to stay there than in the more expensive, recently built addition.
Now, before I go on, I have to confess that I’m a ghost and haunted-locations fanatic. I frequently try to book haunted rooms in haunted hotels when I’m traveling. My family laughs at me (lovingly, I’m sure) whenever I whip out my cell phone to try to record an Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP). I watch the shows. I even thought of joining a local ghost-hunters group.
So yes, I was excited that I’d be staying in ‘Rosie’s Room’ at the Gold Hill Hotel. It was a haunted room, with videos on YouTube to attest to the haunting.
The hotel was quiet when I arrived. My car was the only one in the parking lot. The place was quaint and my room was, well it was small and pink. There were a few small bug carcasses showing through the thin canopy above the bed. As a good friend later pointed out, the canopy was doing its job.
The floors in the room were slanted—I wish I’d had a marble as I would have videotaped that sucker moving from one side of the room to the other. Proof of ghosts.
The room was old, it had character, and I was excited to stay there for the night.
“My shift is over in a few minutes. You’re the only one staying here.” I looked at the blonde hotel manager, a woman about my age. She held the room key towards me. “If you need anything, well, you probably won’t need anything. The owners live across the way. If there’s an emergency, just go out onto the balcony and yell. Hell, if there’s an emergency, dial 911.”
“Uh, okay.” I couldn’t decide if I should make a joke or cancel my reservation. I went out onto the balcony that overlooked the 2-lane highway leading to the heart of Virginia City. A ferociously loud motorcycle drove past.
I heard Blondie behind me come out onto the balcony. “It really is safe. I’ve been here five years and nothing’s ever happened.”
Ah, shit. Well that’s tempting fate, isn’t it?
I took the key from her hand. “Are there any places open for dinner in Virginia City?” I’d come this far so I might as well stay. Plus, if anything did happen, I argued with myself, I’d have a great story to tell. Assuming I survived.
By 8 PM I was back at the hotel, having eaten enough at a place in Virginia City to last me until the next day. I went downstairs to the lobby to write and camped out on an old wooden table. There truly were no other people, which was good. I had the whole hotel to myself.
With no one there, no TV, no radio, I thought I’d crank out thousands of words, sitting at that wooden table. But my ears were more active than my fingers and every cricket outside and every drip-drip-drip of the faucet in the bar held my attention. I walked around and peaked out the windows into the darkening light. The huge orb spider in its web stopped me from cracking open that window. Drip-drip-drip. I felt like Jack Torrance. All I needed to complete the scenario was a wife, a child, and a drinking problem.
After forcing out less than a paragraph, I made my way back up to Rosie’s Room. It was time to face the haunting.
Sitting there alone, I decided there was no way in hell I was about to do an EVP session. Or invite anything, anyone, to come visit with me. The only thing I could do was lock my door (there were three locks because, yeah, it’s safe), tuck myself into bed, and hope for the best.
I left the light on in the bathroom.
Eventually I fell asleep, waking up an hour later to some noise, imagined or not. Eyes wide open, I listened for the noise again but didn’t hear a thing. I fell asleep again. Then woke again, repeating the pattern until morning.
Did I ever see anything? No. Feel anything? No. Sense anything? No. However, I sure as shit did not get a good night’s sleep.
I was going to spend the day tooling around Virginia City, playing tourist, and I knew I’d be too tired to drive home that night. So guess what I did? Booked another night. Because, why not? I was in a different room, an even smaller room, but it wasn’t (supposedly) haunted. There were also other guests staying at the hotel and I heard them moving around, making alive noises.
I slept deep and well that second night.
If I go back to Virginia City, which I'm sure I will, I'll stay again at the Gold Hill Hotel. It was an experience and I'm sure there are more to be had at that there hotel.
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This snippet is from my WIP, a historical romance set in early 1880s California. Without giving an ounce of plot away, the (tentative) title of the book is 'Gold Digger'. Enjoy!
"I know I’m being childish, but I don’t want to marry. We are not in love.”
“How can you not be in love with the man?” Mary Beth’s voice rose an octave. “He is brave. Deliciously handsome. Why, I would be delighted to marry him if I were you.”
“Exactly! You should be the one—“
“Winifred Lucinda Bergman! I’ve just about had enough of your complaining." Winnie’s mother slammed the door as she entered the room. “Your father has worked hard to give you a good home and to make sure you land yourself in one that’s just as good.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry, Mother.” Winnie hung her head in shame. Her shame was not that she’d complained, but that she desired a different life. She wanted an adventure, like her brother, Frederic. He’d left for the West Indies five years prior and had not been home since. His letters had filled her mind and heart with the places he'd been and the people he’d met. If only she could have that life and not the life she was consigned to.
It wasn’t fair.
On Wednesday, July 26th, I drove almost four hours to Carson City, Nevada to meet with Jan Loverin, a textile researcher who heads up the Marjorie Russell Clothing & Textile Research Center. I went there as an introduction to clothing from my time period, specifically looking for clothing that women miners in the 1880s might have worn, clothing for men, but interested in any nuggets of info she had to share with me.
I’m a complete novice when it comes to period clothing, or 'costumes' as Jan called them. For women I know there was usually a corset involved. Bloomers? What the heck was the difference between petticoats and skirts? And did wealthy men wear Unionsuits just as the working men did? Or did they wear something else?
Jan, taken back a bit by my ignorance, was a trooper and gave me a crash course on the basics of clothing from that time period. She also pointed me in the direction of some solid introductory materials. Jan gave nearly two hours of her time and showed me a few samples of dresses, corsets, other undergarments. I then spent almost another hour organizing my notes and exploring the library.
I was able to take pictures, but it was purely for research purposes. I had to sign an agreement that I wouldn’t publish or post any of them. ☹ So, wikkicommons, here I come. Or, you’ll just have to use your imagination.
First off, she didn't have information about women miners but she suggested some resources which are listed at the bottom of this post.
Women’s clothing: Layers
The first layer, closest to the skin was a chemise. This was easily laundered, certainly more so than the outside layers. The best way I can describe it is that it looks like your typical grandma’s white nightgown with short sleeves. Usually made of cotton or linen, I believe. Jan thought that before the 1880s in America, women usually wore the chemise or something similar to it for bed as well. However, she wasn’t sure.
Second layer was the corset. These weren’t worn as an outside layer, but on the inside. The ones I saw were laced in the back and hooked in the front. The boning was apparently made from whale bones. I was very excited to find a corset labeled ‘wedding lingerie’. On Winnie’s wedding night, she’s wearing a special corset and chemise—I was thrilled to discover I’d gotten it right!
Third layer starts to get a bit confusing. There may or may not have been a corset cover, which, as far as I can figure was like a modern-day camisole. Jan said something about it protecting something from something. Maybe it protected the corset from the outside layer? Or the other way around?
Bustles were common in the 1880s and there were a variety of types. They weren’t overly huge and the purpose, according to Jan, was to give fullness to the yards of skirts. These tied around the waste and rested at the lower back area, not on the ass. However, it did make sitting in chairs a bit challenging, especially if the seat wasn’t deep. Thus, apparently Victorian furniture became deeper to accommodate the bustle.
Fourth layer (or fifth? I’ve lost count) were the petticoats. I have no idea if they went on under or over the bustle, though from the picture on the left, it looks like it went over the bustle. And I don’t know if there was more than one petticoat layer or not.
Finally, there was the outer layer of clothing which consisted of a skirt and a jacket-like thingy. Depending on the purpose (formal events, being out an about town, working at home, etc.), the skirts may have been in two parts and the top might have also included boning.
What about underwear? Bloomers? Drawers? According to Jan, many women didn't wear these particular undergarments until beginning in the early 1880s. However, I've also subsequntly read that women did wear them--they were not permanently closed at the crotch, however and were secured either by ties or possibly buttons. Supposedly this helped with going to the bathroom.
But what about menstruation? How did they deal with that? Surprising, there's not a lot of information about this and experts disagree. The best Jan could come up with is that there might have been a belt or ties of some sort that secured layers of material.
Men's clothing: Boring
They had almost nothing of men's clothing. Jan said that very few people kept, or at least donated things from men. So, a researching I will go.
Clearly, I still have much to learn. However, I am so grateful for the time I spent at the research center. It was a great place to start my education of costumes from the 1880s—seeing the clothing was much more helpful to me than looking at pictures or reading descriptions. I now have the background to put additional information and research into context.
Comstock Women: The Making of a Mining Community
Dress, Journal of CSA
The Female Economy by Wendy Gamber
Nevada State Museum Textile & Clothing Research
Costume Society of America
I had an unexpected adventure at the end of July. I’d made an appointment to tour the Marjorie Russell Clothing & Textile Research Center in Carson City. My plan was to go up one day (a 4-hour drive), meet with Jan Loverin, the curator and main researcher of the Center for a few hours, spend the night in a Motel 6, then return to the Bay Area the next morning.
But Virginia City kept calling to me.
The map said it was only a 20-minute drive from Carson City to Virginia City. Why should I stay in a Motel 6 when, with a bit of effort, I could experience the Old West? I explored hotels (bless the internet) and ended up with a hotel reservation in (supposedly) the oldest hotel in Nevada. Since I was able to choose my room, I picked the (supposedly) haunted room #4 with a name: Rosie’s Room.
My plan was to meet with Jan, then go to Virginia City and spend a night in the (supposedly) haunted and oldest hotel in Nevada, tool around Virginia City the next morning, then drive home to arrive by the evening.
But Virginia City kept calling to me.
There was so much to see! The mill, the mine, the Washoe Club (featured on Ghost Adventures), the museums, the wild horses. By that evening on the first day, my plan stayed the same, but I figured I’d see only a few things then be back soon to see all that I’d missed.
I went to bed in my (supposedly) haunted room in a hotel that was deserted. I was (supposedly) the only soul in the building. The front doors weren’t locked, though my room had three locks on it—a deadbolt, a chain, and a slide lock.
I didn’t sleep well. Kept waking up every hour or so, on high alert for noises and bumps in the dark. Even though I didn’t see anything, feel anything, or really hear anything, I never fell into a deep sleep.
There was nothing left to do but change my plans. Given the non-sleep I’d had, it would be dangerous to drive home, especially if I ended up driving at night. Besides, you know, there was just so much to see in Virginia City. So, I did the responsible thing and indulged in a whole day of research: the Comstock Gold Mill, 4th Ward Museum, a tour of the Chollar Mine, the Way It Was Museum, a ghost tour at the Old Washoe Club, and a bit of shopping.
I also booked an extra night at the (supposedly) oldest hotel in Nevada.
I did, however, change rooms.
Stay tuned for my next post on my Virginia City Adventure!
Links to some resources:
Nevada State Museum & Marjorie Russell Clothing & Textile Research
Virginia City Visitor Information
Welcome to Snippet Sunday! It's been awhile since I've posted so thank you so much for stopping by.
I am beyond excited about a new book I'm writing! It's part of a series that was inspired by a road trip I took this past summer down the Eastern side of the Sierras. The heroines in the series are all single women out to find their fortune and pave their own way in life. Since it's the late 1800s in California, this is easier said than done. It was a wild, exciting time in the western state with both frontier and cultured elegance living side-by-side.
The first book is Winifred and Dempsey's story. I'm so in love with these characters I get emotional just thinking of them. Just wait until you hear about their lives! I haven't written a synopsis yet, there's no title, but I just can't wait any longer to share the opening part with you. The first lines will give you an idea of what's to come. In the next few weeks I'll put up a book description. Hope you enjoy!
Winnie sat in the second parlor, her heart beating wildly. Her mother had left a few moments before, after announcing that her betrothed had arrived.
Her betrothed. Was she really to be married in less than an hour?
Winnie smoothed the ivory colored satin of her skirts, pushing down the layers until she felt her thighs underneath. She’d barely been able to sit with the voluminous swaths of fabric covering her tiny body. She was lost in the material, a wisp of herself. Mother had insisted on the spectacular dress. They had to maintain their status, after all.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to run.
Road Trip: A Rock Season Novel by R.L. Merrill
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is the second book I've read by this author. I love her work--it feels like I'm reading about REAL people and I can relate to everything they go through. This book is not action-packed but takes us through the beginning stages of a relationship and a little past the "honeymoon" period to the point where a solid commitment is made; the HEA. Very emotionally satisfying!
View all my reviews
I'm thrilled to show off this banner I received by email today. The submission that finaled is Swashbuckler, the contemporary romance of a single-mom who discovers that reality can be just as sweet as fantasy.