Building a Fictional Town

by +AneMulligan @AneMulligan

Building a fictional town in a historical novel isn't the easiest of tasks I've taken on, but it is fun. I prefer fictional towns to real ones, because nobody can tell me there was never a grocery store at the corner of Main and Peachtree. In face I've only written one novella set in a real town (a favor to the mayor of Sugar Hill).

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Stealing History

by Ron Estrada

As I write this, I'm watching Vikings via the magic of Hulu, the binge watching hub of the modern world. I've watched a few of these historical fiction TV series, and while I cannot vouch for their historical accuracy, I can vouch for their entertainment value.

The writers of these shows have done what any good writer would do, historical or otherwise. Take a piece of what is fact and insert a bit of fiction into it. This is how we can "steal" a great segment of our story, all that bothersome background and setting. The writers of these TV shows did just that. We can, therefore, justify borrowing our settings from the TV show writers who have done all the hard work already.

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Historical Accuracy in Novels

By Peter Leavell

Herodotus’s Third Law—for every historian, there is an equal and opposite historian.

There’s no record that Herodotus wrote such sage wisdom, but I’m sure I’ll come across it soon.

How important are historical facts in novels?

Two extremes:

Tossing history through a black hole because the past doesn’t fit your plot.

You can’t simply disregard history as some sort of nuisance just because it doesn’t fit the plot. For goodness sake, if Henry VIII switches on the light, you’re in the wrong genre. When Genghis Khan paused at the taco shack on Tuesday to get his salsa fix, you did it all wrong. And Susan B. Anthony didn’t squeeze into skinny jeans, did she?

Stymied completely by making sure every nuance, every word, every fire lit actually happened.

I know a writer who started looking for small Nebraska town’s train schedules from 1905 to accurately portray historical fact, aka, the train will pull in on such and such a time. She started at age 26 and I met her at age 45. And she’d just found her holy grail! She actually found a brochure—copied into the internet—and saw the train arrives in that small town at 4:37PM. She could finally move on with her manuscript…until I asked if the train was late that day. She went into concussion.

Tips on historical accuracy:

History is the pathway from which all we know has come. Explanations for who we are and why we do what we do can be found by studying the past. Staying true to events, known events chronicled by participants, is important, because misrepresentation of the past might change how we proceed with out future. However, the leeway the writer has is picking who to listen to when those chronicles differ. How many stories have been written of John F. Kennedy’s assassination? Everyone picks a specific eye witness chronicler and runs with a fresh version of the story. If you chose to write that the FBI was behind the assassination, then the reader will come away with possible undeserved distaste for the FBI. Be careful.

Don’t lose the main plot in details, ever. John F. Kennedy’s death is sometimes overlooked by the thrilling theories behind the assassination. A man dying is the heart of the story. An important man. The characters need to be drawn back periodically to the main point, like a ship orbiting earth’s gravity.

The political setting of every historical novel is important. A story with John F. Kennedy would miss so much if the writer didn’t research détente, mutually assured destruction, and Catholic phobias of the day. Those tidbits draw out how we came to be the way we are today. Historical romance that incorporates the free spirited heart of the cowboy fenced in by closing ranges and barbed wire adds a new level of emotional tension. How characters reacted to those political tensions can be found in diaries and interviews. You must use your imagination to picture what your characters might do under those circumstances and overlay them into the character.

Instruments used in the past give the story verisimilitude. Knowing they had electricity in the 1960’s can add a nice little historical element. Is the story lost if you can’t find out if electricity existed in the ‘60’s? No. Imagination and writer’s tricks can solve the problem. But before my dad strangles me about ‘did you have electricity when you were a kid, dad?’ we must admit that root beer in the 1960’s was probably more amazing than today. But characters don’t say, ‘oh my, this root beer is far better than they will have in 1999.’ They simply like what they like.

Looks like we’ve run out of time! Keep in mind the two extremes, and find a happy medium!

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Historical Accuracy in Novels by Peter Leavell (Click to Tweet)

History is the pathway from which all we know has come~ Peter Leavell (Click to Tweet)

Peter Leavell

Peter Leavell, a 2007 graduate of Boise State University with a degree in history, was the 2011 winner of Christian Writers Guild's Operation First Novel contest, and 2013 Christian Retailing's Best award for First-Time Author. Peter and his family live in Boise, Idaho. Learn more about Peter's books, research, and family adventures at www.peterleavell.com.

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Once Beyond a Time ~ by Ann Tatlock

By Yvonne Lehmann

Ann Tatlock is a novelist and children’s book author. Her newest novel, Once Beyond A Time, was published in December 2014 by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Her books have received numerous awards, including the Christy Award, the Midwest Book Award and the Silver Angel Award for Excellence in Media. She also serves as managing editor of Heritage Beacon, the historical fiction imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. She lives with her family in Western North Carolina. Please visit her website at www.anntatlock.com.

Once Beyond A Time

A Non-Paranormal Paranormal Story

I want to tell you up front that I don’t believe in ghosts. The idea of disembodied souls haunting shadowy places—rattling chains, slamming doors, walking through walls--just doesn’t fit with my world view. People aren’t meant to remain earth-bound. We either end up in the presence of God or separated from Him eternally. That’s what the Bible says and that’s what I accept as true.

And yet my new novel, Once Beyond A Time, was rejected at several houses for being a ghost story. Too paranormal, they said. As a Christian publisher we don’t want to promote anything having to do with the paranormal.

But it isn’t paranormal, I argued. Not a single character in the book is dead.

No matter; they didn’t want it. Years passed, and I finally found a house happy to publish it. Oddly, this particular publisher wanted to promote it as paranormal.

But it isn’t paranormal, I argued once again. The premise has nothing to do with ghosts.

That may be, the publisher argued back, but what happens in your book isn’t normal—what, with people talking to people who live in different times—so that makes it paranormal.

We decided we have different definitions of paranormal. Which, I guess--to make us both happy--means my newest offering is a non-paranormal paranormal book.

What the book actually deals with is time. Or more accurately, God’s timelessness: “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty” (Revelation 1:8 KJV).

Unlike humans who occupy a single point in time, God stretches from start to finish, he is and was and is to come, and therefore he is the Eternal Now. He created time for our use, but he remains outside of it and is unhindered by it. So, I wondered, what if one was able to “step out of time” and experience what God experiences? That’s the premise of my story.

It's 1968, and Sheldon and Meg Crane have just moved their family from suburban Philadelphia to the town of Black Mountain, NC. Sheldon has resigned in disgrace from the ministry after an affair. He will now sell used cars for his brother-in-law's auto dealership. Sheldon is burdened by his wife's unwillingness to forgive and his daughter's anger over the move. The oldest son is in Vietnam. The only happy member of the family is his eight-year-old son, Digger.

After settling into their new home--an old house nearly hidden on the side of a mountain—the family soon discover it’s no ordinary place. And this is where it gets to be “not normal.” The family can see and speak with people who have lived there in the past, and with those who will live there in the future. They are trying to make sense out of this odd phenomenon when the unspeakable happens: Digger disappears. They don’t know whether he has been kidnapped or whether he has wandered off into the mountains and gotten lost.

As the family deals with brokenness, heartache and—yes—the paranormal experience of “stepping out of time,” they discover the house is a gift, one that teaches them about the healing power of forgiveness and the loving sovereignty of God.

No ghosts. No rattling chains or slamming doors. Just a chance to take an imaginary journey beyond time. Sometimes the “not normal” can offer a fresh perspective on grace. I hope it will for you.

Once Beyond a Time

It’s 1968, and Sheldon and Meg Crane have just moved their family from Pennsylvania to the small town of Black Mountain, NC. Sheldon, recently ousted from the ministry due to an illicit affair, takes a job as a used car salesman at his brother-in-law s auto dealership. Burdened by his wife’s unforgiveness and his daughter’s resentment over the move to “Barney Fife country”, Sheldon finds a measure of solace in his eight-year-old son’s ability to cope. After settling into an old house high on the side of a mountain, the family discovers their new home is no ordinary place. Family members occasionally see and speak with the home’s previous residents ⎯ and the ones who will live there in the future. While attempting to come to terms with this portal in the past and future, their son, Digger, suddenly disappears. Was he kidnapped or did Digger wander off into the mountains and become lost? The answer lies in a place once beyond a time ⎯ in a realm where the mysterious power of forgiveness removes sorrow and heals even the most egregious sins. 

Yvonne Lehman is an award-winning, best-selling author of more than 3,000,000 books in print, who founded and directed the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference for 25 years, is now director of the Blue Ridge “Autumn in the Mountains” Novelist Retreat. She mentors for the Christian Writers Guild. She earned a Master’s Degree in English from Western Carolina University and has taught English and Creative Writing on the college level. Her latest releases include eight ebooks for Barbour’s Truly Yours line and a Harlequin/Heartsong series set in Savannah GA: The Caretaker’s Son, Lessons in Love, Seeking Mr. Perfect, (released in March, August, & November 2013). Her 50^th novel is Hearts that Survive – A Novel of the TITANIC

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Making History

We here at Novel Rocket's LAUNCH PAD Contest: Boosting You Out of the Slush Pile are pleased to announce the winner of this year's Historical Fiction category.

We did some rearranging in 2013 and substituted a Nonfiction category for Historical Fiction. In 2012, none of the entrants were quite ready for prime time, and so we didn't name a winner.

We brought back Historical Fiction this year, however, and one entry stood out from the rest.

One judge said of this story, "The writing is good, and so is the development of the main character. The chapters show what the family is like through the young girl's eyes. The author is definitely a creative writer."

The other judge offered no argument, saying, "This is a literary historical fiction that makes the reader weep for the character from the first sentence. Dangling hope within the characters' reach, this work touches on the deeper themes in history and travels through the difficulties of life without moaning in self-pity. I enjoyed reading every word."

I think they liked it.

Just what is this story that's created such enthusiasm? The first Historical Fiction winner our contest has named in three years is: Firebrand, by Sarah Thompson of Justin, Texas.

Chapter One 

Is mise Saoirse.

I am Freedom.

Brookfield, Texas

June 20, 1857

First day in our new home we buried my brother Aidan in that hard, hot, Texas ground beside my uncle's fresh grave.

I was twelve years old.

Only my cousin Jack and myself were present for the service. Sweat dripped down our backs as the sun beat down on us with a fury I had never felt before in Ireland. Jack wasn't so much affected, having been born in that hell, but I wilted long before he finished the burial.

Aidan's grave was covered, full. I felt naked and empty.

Jack carried me inside the house, gave me water, and went back to work outside. All without saying a word. I spent the afternoon on the parlor sofa, crying into one of Mam's needlepoint pillows while the house mocked me with silence.

Later that day, my brother Declan tried to take his own life.

Jack found him retching near the dried-up creek bed next to an empty bottle of laudanum. As he dragged Declan inside, he met my eyes, and I knew I'd just lost another brother. But Jack told me to fetch the physician, and I did. I managed to saddle up the old mare and drove the poor dear three full miles into town, even in my skirts and all.

By the time we got back to the farm, Declan was hardly breathing. That fool doctor claimed he could do little else but pronounce my brother dead, and I cursed him for that. I climbed up onto the bed beside my brother and pressed my warm palms against his clammy cheeks. His cloudy eyes stared unfocused past me as I leaned over him.

"You aren't going anywhere," I whispered. My tears splashed against his blue lips. "I'll not be losing both of my brothers Declan, I won't! So you pull yourself together, now. I need you."

He didn't even blink in response.

Jack tried to pry me away. As if I hadn't already seen what death looked like. But I would not

be moved, and so Jack sat at the foot of the bed,
his head bowed in prayer.

I never heard much of anything about the good Lord before I met Jack, save the stories Aidan told me at Christmas about the baby Jesus. I'd never given Himself any more thought than I did to stories of Oisín and the land of Tír na nÓg. But when Jack said later that 'twas the Lord that saved Declan's life, I believed him.

Declan was laid up in bed for almost a fortnight afterwards. Mam never came to see him. She was still bound up in her grief, locked away in her room. Da came in once. He said nothing. Wouldn't even look me in the eye. He hadn't since the day before Aidan was murdered.

It fell to Jack and myself to nurse Declan back to health. I stayed at my post throughout his recovery, fetching him water and soup, and reading to him. Even when he told me to leave.

“Get up and make me,” I said, voice catching in my throat. “I promised Aidan I would take care of you. And I—I mean to do it.”

Declan only glared at me and fell back asleep.

Watching him gave me some comfort. A momentary serenity settled on his countenance which reminded me so much more of Aidan. They were twins. Same auburn hair, same olive eyes, but there had always been a peace and cheerfulness in Aidan's expression which was ever vacant in Declan's.

Mam used to remark on it, on occasion. Far too much seriousness in a boy of fifteen, she said of Declan the morning we arrived in New Orleans. At fifteen, you should still be more than a little silly. Declan had ignored her while Aidan proceeded to play a game of jacks with me.

As I sat beside Declan in his sickbed, a whimper escaped my lips. A fearful, childish whine. Aidan's name. I needed him to reappear, come through the bedroom door and tell me that it was all a cruel joke. I'd pretend to be cross with him, but ‘twouldn't last long. I never could stay cross at Aidan. He would then hold me, and sing to me, and tell me everything would be all right. Then he would tell me about all of the beauty and adventure we would find in our new home. He would keep Mam from crying, and Da from drinking, and all of us from fighting. He would keep us living.

Mam once told me that Aidan's name meant little fire. And that was what he had been for me. A bright, lively wisp of a boy who made my heart glow whenever he was near. But he was dead. My fire was gone. And my heart was cold.

All I had left was Declan, and he hated me.

"You killed him, you know."

I sucked in a shuddering breath and glanced down.

Declan scowled at me with red-rimmed eyes. He coughed weakly. "It's your fault he's dead."

Those words, hardly more than a pitiful croak from his raw throat, made my stomach twist. I wanted to look away, to shove my fingers in my ears, but I couldn't. Because he was right.

"If you'd only done as you were told." He clenched the quilt in his hand as he struggled for breath. Tears streamed from his eyes. "If you had stayed put, and not run off in a tantrum—"

"And where were you?"

Declan blinked at me. "What?"

"You saw me run away that night, and you didn't stop me." My face burned. "Aidan was the only one to come looking for me, and you let him go out alone!"

Declan paled. "I was asleep!"

"Liar! You're a liar and a coward. The least you could do is admit it."

Declan turned his face away. His breathing worsened. Mam had a meaning for his name, too. It was an older name, older than the river Shannon, she declared. But as she understood it, it meant full of goodness.

She must have been mistaken. Or else missed the mark something terrible when she named him. Full of something, to be sure, but 'twasn't goodness. Was there an Irish name for full of—

"Why are you still here?" Declan spoke through his teeth. "Go and be useful, for a change."

I tumbled off the bed and stared at him, clenching my fists with rising guilt and fury. Wanting to run from the room in a huff, but determined to stay at his side. He was ill, that was all. He needed me, even if he didn't want me. Even if I didn't want him. He was hurting. But then, so was I.

"Declan, I'm—"

"Out!"

Declan grabbed one of my books from the nightstand and flung it across the room. The effort left him wheezing.

But my pity was just as spent. "I hate you, Declan Callahan! You're a sniveling coward. And you can be getting your own soup, now."

I whirled and ran from the room before I burst into tears. I stopped at my mother's door, but it was locked tight. She cried softly behind it. No one else existed in her world of grief.

I glanced at the stairs to the attic, where Aidan and my Uncle Brendan's trunks were stored. But I was forbidden to go up there, and the dusty old room scared me, anyhow.

Downstairs was no better. Da was in his study, but I caught a glimpse of him through a crack in the door. He was slumped over his desk, pouring another glass of whiskey.

A heavy weight pressed on me from all sides. I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't see through my tears. My head pounded like my skull would split at any moment. All as badly as the night Aidan died.

One bullet was all it had taken. One bullet, and any chance for my already tattered family to become whole again was destroyed. One bullet had killed them all. I was utterly alone. And it was all my fault.

I know very well what my own name means. 'Tis the Irish word for freedom. Saoirse. Da always said Mam was half-mad when she named me. Most days I agreed with him, because I felt anything but free.

The sound of a hammer echoing across the yard broke into my thoughts, and I welcomed the noise as if it were a symphony. I bolted towards the back door.

 [To continue, click here.]

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Cindy Thompson ~ Historical author and Research Enthusiast

Cindy Thomson is a writer and an avid genealogy enthusiast. Her love of history and her Scots-Irish heritage have inspired much of her writing, including her new Ellis Island series. Cindy is also the author of Brigid of Ireland and Celtic Wisdom: Treasures from Ireland. She combined her love of history and baseball to co-author the biography Three Finger: The Mordecai Brown Story, which was a finalist for the Society for American Baseball Research's Larry Ritter Book Award. In addition to books, Cindy has written on a regular basis for numerous online and print publications and is a mentor for the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild. She is also a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and the Historical Novel Society. Cindy and her husband have three grown sons and live in central Ohio. Visit her online at www.cindyswriting.com.

What sparked the story?

I’ve always been interested in learning more about my ancestors. While none of mine, that I know of, came through Ellis Island, it’s estimated 40% of Americans today have an ancestor who came through Ellis Island. This era of massive immigration is a part of the history of all Americans. I wanted to tell stories about the struggles, the fears, the doubts, and the triumphs these people lived through.

What would you do differently if you were starting your publishing career today?

Today is much different with electronic publishing and many more options than when I started. I still would pursue traditional publishing, but I think knowing what I know now, I would study the craft more before trying to get published.

Share a bit of your journey to publication.

My first novel was published in 2006. Since then I’ve published some non fiction books, but no more novels until I got the call that Tyndale wanted my Ellis Island series. Historical fiction was my favorite genre, but for seven long years I feared I might never have another novel published. At the same time, I felt I had to try. The writing life is an odd combination of struggle, anguish, pleasure, and joy. It’s the creative process that we have to live through, but once we get our stories into the hands of readers, it’s well worth it.

Where do you write: In a cave, a coffeehouse, or a cozy nook?

I love my office. We’ve lived in this house for the past six years and this has been my best place to write. It’s the only upper room, reached by a spiral staircase. We have a wooded lot and I feel like I’m in a tree house. However, it’s hot in the summer. I have a window air conditioner that helps but when the weather’s nice I take my laptop outside to the deck. So far I’ve failed at writing at coffee shops. I know a lot of writers do that, but I do better with few distractions.

What would you do if you didn't write?

I use to teach, but I’m not sure I could go back to that now, at least not with the little ones. It takes so much energy! I mentor writers online through the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild, and I really enjoy that. I’d probably teach again on some level or….just read a lot! But truly I can’t stop writing. It’s what I have to do.

What issue makes you struggle as an author? How do you handle it?

Organizing my time. Freelancing is challenging even though it’s rewarding being able to make your own schedule. I have found I have to have a calendar with reminders. That way I’m not stopping to ask myself what task I should do next.

What are your top 3 recommendations for a new writer?

1.   Don’t rush to publication. It’s so easy to do that these days, but there is value in taking the time required to learn how to write well. A well-written book will survive much better in the competitive marketplace we have today.

2.   Attend conferences. I can’t recommend this enough. Not only will you learn tons about the craft and business, but you will also connect with writer friends, which is so important. In addition you’ll meet industry professionals like editors and literary agents, and you are not likely to meet them anywhere else.

3.   Read. Read a lot. Read all genres, not just those you write. I’ve heard the argument from people who are afraid they’ll end up writing like the authors they are reading rather than establishing their own voice. I really don’t think that’s a valid argument, not if you’re reading more than one author. You can learn so much by reading really good writing. And if you want to write a book, surely you like to read. If not, I’d say find another occupation.

Some say a writer is born and others say anyone can learn. What do you think?

I think it’s not an easy argument to resolve. There is plenty to learn, and any writer can improve his/her writing by working at it. But I don’t believe just anyone can tell stories well enough to write a good novel. I can’t tell which new writer that applies to, though. I think if you’re driven to write and have a strong desire to have people hear your stories, then you should work at it. If you don’t have that strong of a desire, do something else because it’s not an easy journey.

What's the strangest or funniest experience you've had in writing?

I don’t know if I can come up with one single thing. So much about writing is strange and funny! Research trips have resulted in some strange occurrences, like having a rat run past you in Battery Park, Manhattan, and knowing that was going to happen to your character. It’s strange when you hear your characters talking in your head and you can’t tell anyone lest they think you’re nuts. Or you can’t go to sleep because a scene is playing out in your head.

Do you prefer the creating or editing aspect of writing? How do you feel about research?

Of course I have to have all of that, so I don’t know if I prefer one over the other. But it does seem to be more fun to have the story written and go back to fix what’s wrong and what doesn’t work. I love, love research. Maybe more than writing.

Do you consider yourself a visual writer? If so, what visuals do you use?

I think so. I like to have maps, photographs similar to what I think my characters look like (Tyndale got such a great match for Annie’s Stories’ cover.) I like old photographs, and I have many on my Pinterest page. I think it helps me put myself into their world.

What are your writing rituals?

Basically, I get up, do a devotional and sometimes journal, answer emails, check Facebook and Twitter, exercise, shower, and then settle down to write. Usually. Like I said, I struggle a bit with time management.

Do you work best under pressure or do you write at a leisurely pace?

I’m not sure. A deadline surely helps, but having the luxury of time is wonderful.

What are your thoughts on critique partners?

I had quite a few when I first started. It’s always good to have another set of eyes on your work. Right now the most valuable to me are my fellow authors who are willing to brainstorm with me.

Any final thoughts?

It’s a privilege to have people read my books. Even though writing is a tough occupation, it’s a labor of love that I enjoy and don’t take for granted. Thanks for having me on Novel Rocket! I hope you all will visit me on my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/cindyswriting or Twitter: @cindyswriting

Annie's Stories

The year is 1901, the literary sensation The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is taking New York City by storm, and everyone wonders where the next great book will come from. But to Annie Gallagher, stories are more than entertainment—they’re a sweet reminder of her storyteller father. After his death, Annie fled Ireland for the land of dreams, finding work at Hawkins House.

But when a fellow boarder with something to hide is accused of misconduct and authorities threaten to shut down the boardinghouse, Annie fears she may lose her new friends, her housekeeping job . . . and her means of funding her dream: a memorial library to honor her father. Furthermore, the friendly postman shows a little too much interest in Annie—and in her father’s unpublished stories. In fact, he suspects these tales may hold a grand secret.

Though the postman’s intentions seem pure, Annie wants to share her father’s stories on her own terms. Determined to prove herself, Annie must forge her own path to aid her friend and create the future she’s always envisioned . . . where dreams really do come true. 

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Tudors, Jakes and Shag Lessons

Posted by Michelle Griep

Recently I pulled off my TBR pile a gorgeous looking book called Queen Elizabeth's Daughter. Want to see?

Yummy, right? Well so is the story. Which made me curious about the author. You know where this is headed, don't you? Yep. Sit back and enjoy an interview with a tale of Tudor intrigue, Anne Clinard Barnhill.

You write historical fiction, which begs the question... how do you research? 

The Tudors have been my secret (now, not so secret) obsession for many years.  Over time, I’ve collected close to 300 nonfiction books about the era.  I’m always on the lookout for new information, so I tune in via internet so websites like The Anne Boleyn Files, On the Tudor Trail, Being Bess, and other great sites for info. I also scout the web for primary sources as can be found in the Gutenberg Project.

What's one quirky fact you uncovered during the process?

Oh, there are so many!  Just the toilet habits alone are fascinating!  You have laws against urinating in the cook ovens in the great kitchens of the castle—you have the king’s private ‘stool’ which is covered in velvet and ornately carved, you have the public ‘jakes’ for the rest of the court to use—all of which dumps directly into the Thames.  Since I have a Tudor dress, complete with hooped petticoat, I wonder how the women managed those big dresses in what must have been small quarters. I haven’t figured out how to sit down in mine, yet!

Why the interest in Henry VIII?

He’s larger than life—physically bigger than most men of the time, brilliant and extremely well-educated, a lover and composer of music and verse, a visionary architect, a dancer and athlete—you name it, Henry could do it.  Yet, in spite of all his accomplishments, he had a romantic and passionate heart which led him into trouble.  He wanted to marry for love, much like his grandfather, Edward IV.  At first, love could move him, but later, power became his mistress.  He was a tyrant in the latter half of his reign—I think he died not fully satisfied with what he had done.  But, he’d left a son, Edward, so that must have brought him peace.

Tell us about your publishing journey.

I’ve always wanted to write, even back in junior high school where I wrote the world’s worst love poetry.  I majored in English literature in college and taught high school for about fifteen years—I had my family at a young age, so I was very busy raising three sons and working full-time.  Then, in 1989, I knew I had to try to write, or I’d lose my mind.  So, I started with small articles for a local magazine.  I moved on to writing for the newspapers in the area, then on to writing for a state-wide magazine.  All the while, I wrote short stories and poetry, even tried my hand at a novel, which is still hiding beneath my bed.  It was a very slow building process. 

Then, in 2007, almost twenty years after I started, I published my first book, a memoir: AT HOME IN THE LAND OF OZ: Autism, My Sister and Me.  Two years later, my short story collection came out, WHAT YOU LONG FOR.  Then, in 2010, I landed an agent and a 2-book deal with St. Martin’s Press. AT THE MERCY OF THE QUEEN came out in 2012, along with a poetry chapbook, COAL, BABY.  Now, QUEEN ELIZABETH’S DAUGHTER is out.  I’m thrilled that all those years of hard work are paying off.

What advice would you give a newbie writer?

READ, READ, READ!  Read everything!  Go to the classics and try to figure out why or how they have stood the test of time.  Go to graphic novels, romances, thrillers, contemporary, just all of it.  Study how these things are done.

WRITE, WRITE, WRITE!  Write as much as you can—try to improve.  Read your work aloud to see how it flows.  Get a trusted reader to give you feedback.  And NEVER GIVE UP!!

I heard a rumor that you dance. That true? What type? Do you purposely incorporate dance into your stories?

I LOVE to dance!  I just like moving to music.  My husband and I took shag lessons (a beach dance) but we never actually made it to a dance.  We’ve also done contra-dancing—I’d love to learn ballroom dancing and I just might do it!

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Mary is Elizabeth’s favorite ward and a darling of the court. With a guileless nature and enchanting looks that call to mind the queen’s infamous mother, Anne Boleyn, Mary enjoys every privilege—receiving the queen’s silks and jewels as hand-me-downs; picnicking with the queen and her lover, Sir Robert Dudley; as well as entertaining the prospect of several eager suitors. Like any good mother, Elizabeth hopes to make Mary a powerful match, be it a noble courtier or even a foreign prince. The most likely prospect: Edward de Vere, the clever, polished, and wealthy Earl of Oxford, whom Mary knows to be lecherous, cruel, and deceitful.

But Mary has plans of her own. Boldly defying Elizabeth’s choice, Mary instead strikes up a friendship with Sir John Skydemore, a widower of five children. Though John is only a minor knight with little money, he is gallant, deeply thoughtful, and handsome. He is also a Catholic at a time when Catholic plots against the queen are rampant. When Mary and John’s friendship blossoms into something more, they find their very lives in danger as Elizabeth’s wrath knows no bound.

ANNE CLINARD BARNHILL has published short stories, poetry, a memoir, and hundreds of articles and book reviews over the past twenty years. She has taught writing in a variety of venues and has been a keynote speaker for numerous events. Her first novel, At the Mercy of the Queen, was published by St. Martin's Press in 2012. She lives in North Carolina with her husband. 

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