Look Into My Eyes

via Pinterest

 Finally, I have written again for Rachel Heffington's Chatterbox. The theme this month is maple and I knew I could come up with something if I thought about it long enough. All last week I was kept on my toes attending and helping out at an art class, only to be able to put my pen to paper in my art journal and not on my beloved works in progress. Yesterday rolled around and I realized I only had a couple days left to come up with something. So, I wrote a little scene for my 1930s historical fiction Finding Home. It truly did blossom during the writing process and I know exactly where it needs to be placed in the story.

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“Good afternoon, Creighton.” Anna Grace’s voice behind me broke the late summer silence.

 I turned around quickly, startled that I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. “Hi,” I said, slowly easing my grip on the hammer. “What are you doing here?”

 Annie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “I’ve come to read like I usually do,” she said. “It’s a short novel that Molly gave me.” She smiled and I tried to return a like expression.

“Swell,” I said, glancing around. Ever since my in-town run in with Butch Smith and Dan Winters I’d been jumpier than a grasshopper. “Why don’t you sit under that big maple by the pond to read. It’s cooler there.” I continued repairing the fence.

“I thought I might read it aloud. I read the first chapter last night and its about a dear, old school master. I thought you might like it so I decided to wait and read it aloud to you.” Annie’s eyes brimmed over with excitement.

“I’m working right now,” I said sharply, turning away slightly. “Go sit under that maple and read.”

 Annie’s face was an open book and in the split second I turned away and went back to work, an expression of keen hurt and confusion clouded her face. She walked away silently and sat beneath the maple tree I had suggested, her back against the trunk. She watched me a moment before opening her book and beginning to read.

 I forced myself not to hurl a curse on my own head. Instead, I beat my clenched fist against the fencepost. Why couldn’t I just keep my dumb trap shut? Butch and Dan were miles away. Just because I’d seen them again once did not mean they were keeping tabs on me or watching how much I interacted with the people around me. This was Ralston, Texas, not Louis Cassetti’s Chicago.

 I finished my work on the post and stole a glance over at Annie. Her nose was stuck faithfully between the pages of her book, but something in her manner told me she wasn’t paying attention to the words she was reading.

 I walked over to the tree. She looked up when my shadow darkened the pages of her book. Her brown eyes were narrowed and a dark cloud clung to the backs of them. The hurt on her face drove a sharp pang of shame deep into my soul.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. Apologies never had been my thing.

 Annie shook her head slowly, lowering her eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said. “You were right. You have work to do and I was interrupting you. I’m sorry. If I’m keeping you from your work, Creighton, just tell me to go. I know I am a nuisance.”

“No, Annie, you have never been a nuisance.” I squatted down and lifted her chin with my hand to look straight into her eyes. “You have been nothing but a God send. You were the one who kept trying to befriend me when I was being a lousy-tempered idiot. I was a dope back there and you were being the kindest, most selfless ...” I started backwards at my own vehemence. I let go of her chin and bolted back into an upright position. “You weren’t wrong back there,” I finished suddenly.

 Annie was staring at me. The hurt in her eyes was gone, replaced with amazement.

 I stuffed my free hand into my pocket and fiddled with the hammer with my other. “Go ahead and read that book aloud,” I said quietly. “I’d be glad to hear it.”

 Annie kept looking at me a couple moments longer and then reopened her book to the beginning.

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By the way, who knows what book Anna Grace is talking about in this scene? I am curious to know if anyone gets the reference.

Book Review: "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society"

  “I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.”

  “January 1946: London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and writer Juliet Ashton is looking for her next book subject. Who could imagine that she would find it in a letter from a man she’d never met, a native of Guernsey, the British island once occupied by the Nazis. He’d come across her name on the flyleaf of a secondhand volume by Charles Lamb. Perhaps she could tell him where he might find more books by this author.

  “As Juliet and her new correspondent exchange letters, she is drawn into the world of this man and his friends, all members of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, a unique book club formed in a unique, spur-of-the-moment way: as an alibi to keep its members from arrest by the Germans.

  “Juliet begins a remarkable correspondence with the Society’s charming, deeply human members, from pig farmers to phrenologists, literature lovers all. Through their letters she learns about their island, their taste in books, and the powerful, transformative impact the recent German occupation has had on their lives. Captivated by their stories, she sets sail for Guernsey, and what she finds there will change her forever.”

 Stepping inside the world of this epistolary novel was like returning to visit dear friends. Book lovers abound and the love of literature pours out of this book like a balm. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was charming and delightful, although still retaining those sobering moments that make me adore books like this. The characters are drawn so well that you forget that they’re characters in a book and half expect to find out they really did exist as real, living and breathing people living on Guernsey Island and in-and-about London.

 The book also shines a light on a fact of World War II that I was previously unaware of: the occupation of the English Channel Islands by the Nazis. It was fascinating to discover this bit of history I had missed, and it has intrigued me into trying to find more information on the events.
 

 The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is a delightful read sure to bring smiles to book aficionados and historical fiction lovers both.

Summer Snippets

 Here are a few bits and pieces from by writing projects. They weren't all written in September, but come from July and onwards.

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    "Not bad for half a day's work, is it?" She said, boiling a kettleful of water on the kitchen stove for tea. "Though, when Mum sends down the box with the last of my stuff, I am going to have to invest in a proper shelf."

  I ducked back out of the refrigerator. "More clothes?" The plausibility of more dresses fitting into Evelyn's already tiny closet was nil.

from The Letters of Lee Ames

  When I finally looked respectable again, I rushed back downstairs and made an undignified jump onto the tram towards Westminster.

from The Letters of Lee Ames

    "Londoner's might not take kindly to a Yank sticking her nose into their lives. What if I run into someone who resents the American War for Independence?"

from The Letters of Lee Ames

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~ Hanne-col

Back Again

'Desert Mountain Climbing' by Victor C. Anderson
 (via Pinterest)

Since my last post in June, life has seen me traverse across the good ole' United States to California for a family vacation, fall ill, attend numerous weddings, read a good many books, and switch my main writing project. I am very sorry for falling off the face of the blogosphere and abandoning my renaissance so soon but life prevailed over blogging. Anyway, I'm back and determined to settle into some sort of organized blogging plan.

 Anyway, there are mainly two things I want to talk about today: books and writing. Books are the indispensable objects of my lifelong affection and this summer I have read some great ones. To Kill a Mockingbird, for example, is brilliant. That book has secured a place on my list of best books I've read this year and a place on my list of favorites. Though, I would recommend it for older readers because of some language and thematic elements. I read my first of Wodehouse with Mike and Psmith. It was delightful; I look forward to more and diving into Jeeves & Wooster. I read a great many others, including Elisabeth Grace Foley's Left-Hand Kelly and Rachel Heffington's debut Fly Away Home.

 Well, on to the writing front. I needed to set aside my 1930s historical fiction piece (let's call it Finding Home for brevity) and so, in the beginning of July, I began work on a historical fiction novel taking place in 1953 London. So far, I have been in a good place with this story and it has not been snagging anywhere nearly as bad as Finding Home. Unfortunately, my new work in progress does not have a very good title at present. To quote Marguerite Henry, "titles are slippery things." I have yet to find the one singularly suited to my story. The Letters of Lee Ames no longer works when it is not being written in the epistolary form.

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 Well, farewell for today. I plan on bringing you a post of snippets from my current work-in-progress later this week and a book review as soon as I gather my thoughts into a coherent pattern.

Beautiful People: Evangeline

 Allow me to introduce one of my main character's older sisters: Evangeline.  She has her place in a small Texas town east of Houston and west of Louisiana during the Great Depression.

1) What is her full name and is there a story behind how she got it?

 Her full name is Evangeline Rose Dalton but most people just call her "Vangie". She was named after her father's mother.

2) How old is she, and when was she born?

 Vangie is nineteen. She was born in 1915.

3) Describe her physical appearance. (Bonus questions: 1. What is her race/nationality/ethnicity? Do you have a picture of her? If so, include it!)

 About 5' 5'', round face, slender, with dark brown hair that becomes wavy when it is humid and rich, dark brown eyes. She's American, but she has a small amount of Spanish and larger English and

via Pinterest

Scottish heritage on her father's side. On her mother's there is mostly English, with some Irish. The closest resemblance I have found to how I picture her is Selena Gomez in this photo.

4) Describe her personality first in one word, and then elaborate with a few sentences.

 A tomboy. She loves playing baseball with the neighborhood kids and unabashedly slides into home plate. Unlike her older sister Molly, she is less conscious of following the rules of etiquette. She's smart, quick-witted, and unafraid to stand-up to anyone. She defends her loved ones like a tigress. Not everything is rough edges, however, she faithfully cares for her crippled mother, even so far as concealing and not carrying out her own dreams in regards to studying art.

5) What theme song(s) fit her personality and story arc?

 Finding songs for my characters is one of the hardest things for me to do. I have to say the jazzy ease and breezy feeling of the song Ain't We Got Fun suits her personality but I have yet to find something that suits her lyrically.

6) Which one of the seven deadly sins describes her?

 It would probably have to be wrath or anger. When somebody hurts one of her loved ones her anger is easily aroused towards that person, and, if she didn't have self control, she'd probably march straight up to the person and begin spouting off.

7) If she was an element (fire, water, earth, air), which one would she be?

 Earth. She's deeply rooted and despite her easy-going attitude, it can be hard for her to adapt to change.

8) What is her favorite word?

 "Hey!" She makes no claims to being a literary genius.

9) Who's one person she really misses? (It could be someone who's passed away, or someone they're not close to anymore, or someone who's moved away.)

 Her older sister Molly, who has been off attending the University of Texas in Austin. She misses Molly not being around and misses the time when she wasn't so bent on adhering to all the rules of etiquette and being a lady in their Aunt Mae's eyes.

10) What sights, sounds, and smells remind her of that person?

 Molly's room, the sound of a piano being played, or the smell of lavender sachets.

A Renaissance

via Pinterest

 Life moves quickly.

 Life can be rip-roaringly fun.

 Life can be terrifying.

 Life as an adult is not what you imagined it would be at age ten.

 Life is good.

 Those five statements are truths that have been hitting home with me recently. With the advent of graduation from high school a couple of weeks ago, I have been groping about trying to find my new ground. I know roughly what I want to do and I have a rough idea of how I'm going to do it. It is taking that rough idea and fleshing it out into a clear and decided plan of action that is difficult for me.

 There are several things that am decided upon doing. First, keep studying. Second, keep writing as incessantly as I can. Third, try to post more frequently here. I would like to mainly focus my posts on writing, but I sometimes have a difficult time opening up publicly on the internet about my writing. Hopefully, I ease into a more comfortable zone with that by participating in Rachel Heffington's monthly Chatterbox, the monthly snippets that go around, and Beautiful People when that starts up again.

 I have a busy life and a great many things I want to accomplish. Lord willing, I would like to post at least once a week as a starter and try to grow from there.

 Here's to hoping this resolution comes to fruition.