The Simple Writer's Life by Vicki Delany

Vicki Delany writes everything from standalone novels of suspense (Burden of Memory, Scare the Light Away) to the Constable Molly Smith series, a traditional village/police procedural series set in the B.C. Interior (In the Shadow of the Glacier, Valley of the Lost), to a light-hearted historical series (Gold Fever, Gold Digger) set in the raucous heyday of the Klondike Gold Rush. Winter of Secrets, published by Poisoned Pen Press in November of 2009, received a starred review

from Publishers Weekly, which said, “She uses a bare-bones style, without literary flash, to achieve artistry as sturdy and restrained as a Shaker chair. Warmth and menace, past and present, are nicely balanced, with a denouement that’s equally plausible and startling.  This confident performance is sure to win new fans to the series.” Vicki lives in rural Prince Edward County, Ontario, where she rarely wears a watch. She blogs with five other mystery writers about the craft and business of writing at Type M for Murder (http://typem4murder.blogspot.com), about mysteries and food at Fatal Foodies (http://fatalfoodies.blogspot.com) Follow Vicki on Twitter @vickidelany. The first chapters of several of her books are posted on her web page so you can get a taste at www.vickidelany.com

The Simple Writer’s Life
By Vicki Delany


I used to be what I called a Sunday Writer. I was a single mother of three kids with a full time job as a computer programmer. I wanted to be a writer, but about the only time I had to myself to write was the occasional Sunday afternoon.

Time passed, as it does, and the children grew up. And then they moved out of the house. Yippee! I was still working, but now I was able to write every evening when I got home from the office.

In 2007 I was lucky enough to be able to take early retirement. I sold my house in the suburbs of a big city and followed my dream to a small rural property in Prince Edward County, Ontario.

And now I can write whenever I like!

I am living the writer’s life because I am content with the simple life. I don’t make much money at this – not many people do.

I don’t have fancy electronics – my TV gets one channel and I don’t have an iPhone or an iPad. I drive a five year old Corolla. I don’t eat out much or buy fast food, and do all my own cooking. I don’t need clothes any fancier than for appearances at bookstores and libraries. I keep my house at a temperature my children call bone-chilling, and rarely go to movies, preferring to read. Reading is still the best value for money you’ll get anywhere in terms of entertainment.

My writing income mostly pays for my writing out-go. Conferences (I was so pleased to meet

Kaye last year at Bouchercon in Indianapolis) and book tours, such as last year’s wonderful tour with Deborah Turrell Atkinson to Hawaii, California, Arizona, and Washington. I go on research trips – a couple of weeks ago I went to New York City to do some location research for an upcoming book - you probably don’t need me to tell you that Manhattan isn’t cheap. I’ve been to Whitehorse and Dawson City, Yukon digging up historical facts for the Gold Rush books.

When I’m at home, I write every day. Seven days a week. Usually for about three to four hours in the morning. In the summer, I then work in the garden and in the winter, don’t do much now that I think of it.

I’m enjoying life in the country. I started a vegetable patch last year, and this year I’m planning to double the size. The tomatoes on the kitchen counter in the picture were all from my garden. There is absolutely nothing in the world that tastes as good as a cherry tomatoes picked and eaten on the spot. And lettuce you’ve grown yourself? You’ll wonder what that stuff they sell in the supermarket really is. I filled the freezer with pasta sauce and soup and frozen berries I picked myself, and this year I plan to enlarge the size of my freezer.

Living in the country occasionally has its drawbacks.

There have been some surprises. Like when I came home from my vacation with my family after New Years last year to find three feet of water in the basement. Literally. The sump pump had failed and it had turned warm and all the snow had melted. My house is well over one hundred years old (the fulfillment of another dream) so the basement is just a cellar, with nothing much in it to be destroyed. Except the furnace, which was.

Furnace replaced.

A few days later the brand-new furnace stopped working. I’d run out of propane. How should I know you’re supposed to order propane? In the city this sort of stuff just arrives all by itself.

Fortunately the house has a wood burning stove as well as the furnace so I was able to use it to heat the house while waiting for propane delivery.

Get the propane tank filled and gag at the expense. Wow.

The wood burning stove worked so well, I decided to start using it more to save on propane, so I ordered more wood as the stuff the previous owners left was running out. I phoned the supplier and asked for a cord. I had absolutely no idea how much that is. He suggested that as the delivery charge was the same, I should get two cords. Okay, two cords it is.

When he pulled up with a trailer piled high with wood, I thought, “I guess he has several other deliveries to make.” He backed the trailer up in front of the garage and dumped all that wood on the driveway.

Oh dear.

I spent three days moving and stacking wood.

Life has its ups and downs, as always. But I am living my dream.

The simple writer’s life.

Celebrating National Poetry Month - Patricia Neely-Dorsey

Patricia Neely-Dorsey is a 1982 graduate of Tupelo High School in Tupelo, Mississippi.  She received a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Psychology from Boston University in Boston, Massachusetts. After living for almost 20 years in Memphis, Tennessee, working in the mental health field, she returned to her hometown in August 2007. Her first book of poetry was published in February, 2008 (Grant House Publishers).

Patricia Neely Dorsey's Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia-A Life in Poems is "a true celebration of the south and things southern." The author states, "There are so many negative connotations associated with Mississippi and the south in general. In my book, using childhood memories, personal thoughts and dreams, I attempt to give a positive glimpse into the southern way of life. I try to show that there is much more to Mississippi and the south than all of the negatives usually portrayed. I invite readers to Meet Mississippi (and the south) Through Poetry, Prose and The Written Word." 

Patricia currently lives in Tupelo with my husband James, son Henry, and Miniature Schnauzer, Happy. She is a proud, active member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc., an avid reader and passionate writer. 

APRIL- National Poetry Month 

  

April is : NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
Some ideas on how you might celebrate National Poetry Month
* Try writing an original poem
* Read poetry to your children/grandchildren
* Recite some poetry at an open-mic/ spoken-word venue
* Read a biography of a famous poet..see what made them tick
*Send a poem to a friend or loved one
*Support/Promote the work of a local poet

*Volunteer to read some poetry at a local school ,nursing home or retirement community
*Buy a wonderful book of poetry for yourself....and a friend.

 (preferably Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia- A Life in Poems by Patricia Neely-Dorsey) (smile)

HAPPY POETRY MONTH !!!

POETRY
My daddy helped me to love poetry,
He liked that kind of thing;
On Sunday mornings we'd recite,
"When Malindy Sings."
I loved the rhythm and the rhyme,
Each stanza and each verse;
We'd just say it how we felt,
With no need to rehearse.
I like to write my own poems now,
And let my own words flow;
I find that there are things inside,
I want other folks to know.
It's such a wonderful feeling,
To see my own words in print;
Sometimes, I think the words I write,
Are truly heaven sent.
Wherever it all comes from,
It's something I love to do;
It's my hope ,in some small way,
It's most enjoyable to you.
Copyright 2008 Patricia Neely-Dorsey

poems from Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia-A Life in Poems
www.patricianeelydorsey.webs.com


SOUTHERN LIFE
If you want a glimpse of Southern life,
Come close and walk with me;
I'll tell you all the simple things,
That you are sure to see.
You'll see mockingbirds and bumblebees,
Magnolia blossoms and dogwood trees,
Caterpillars on the step,
Wooden porches cleanly swept;
Watermelons on the vine,
Strong majestic Georgia pines;
Rocking chairs and front yard swings,
Junebugs flying on a string;
Turnip greens and hot cornbread,
Coleslaw and barbecue;
Fried okra, fried corn, fried green tomatoes,
Fried pies and pickles too.
Ther's ice cold tea that's syrupy sweet,
And cool, green grass beneath your feet;
Catfish nipping in the lake,
And fresh young boys on the make.
You'll see all these things
And much, much more,
In a way of life that I adore.
Copyright 2008 Patricia Neely-Dorsey


PATRICIA NEELY-DORSEY
Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia-A Life in Poems

" a celebration of the south and things southern"
"Meet Mississippi Through Poetry, Prose and The Written Word"
www.patricianeelydorsey.webs.com

I Love Librarians by Jane K. Cleland

Jane K. Cleland writes the multiple-award nominated and Independent Mystery Booksellers Association best-selling Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery series [St. Martin’s Minotaur], an Antiques Roadshow for mystery fans. SILENT AUCTION, the fifth in the series, will be published in April 2010. Ms Cleland chairs the Wolfe Pack’s literary awards and is on the board of the Mystery Writers of America/NY Chapter. “Josie” short stories have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Her apartment (along with her husband and cats) was featured in a recent New York Times Habitat article. 

Library Journal has just named Consigned to Death a "core title" for librarians looking to build a cozy collection, one of only 22 titles listed. The full article is at http://www.libraryjournal.com/article/CA6724627.html

I Love Librarians by Jane K. Cleland

All of my nieces are librarians. Isn’t that odd? Any family can have a librarian in it... heck... I bet some families have two... but all? Okay... we’re a small family... I only have three nieces... but still... all of them are librarians.  Lucky me. Librarians are a remarkable breed of people. They’re curious, knowledgeable, smart, and helpful. No wonder I love librarians.

One of my nieces is a communications expert, researching ways and means of framing and disseminating her clients’ messages. Another is a cognitive expert, assisting scientists in researching issues surrounding thinking and assimilating information. My third niece is an elementary education expert, working with youngins to instill a love of reading and learning. I’m in awe of all three.

I come by my attitude of respect and appreciation honestly; my mother loved librarians, too. When I was a mere slip of a girl she taught me that if you wanted to know something you could always consult a librarian because they either know everything or they know where to find out everything.

When I was in sixth grade, I consulted a librarian as to whether Paul Revere’s horse was a mare. (I needed it as a rhyme in a poem, and being an honest girl, I couldn’t just say it was a mare if it was, in fact, a stallion. Note of interest: She found a contemporary reference stating that Paul Revere’s horse was a mare; I thought you’d want to know.) When I was in eighth grade, a librarian held me enraptured as she discussed the Great Molasses Flood of 1919. (Yes, you read that right. Twenty-one people died a gruesome death, asphyxiated by molasses.)

To this day, I love working with librarians as I work to introduce readers to my protagonist, antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott. As an author, I’m in the enviable position of getting to do just that—a lot.  As many of you know, I tour extensively as I work to introduce readers to Josie.

I also work with Deborah Hirsch, a principal librarian at the Midtown-Manhattan Branch of the New York Public Library to coordinate a series of monthly programs h in my role as chair of the Library Committee for the Mystery Writers of America/ New York Chapter.


In fact, even when I’m traveling overseas, it’s not uncommon for me find myself in a library, like this one I just visited in Grenada.


I love the buildings. I love the books. I love the reverence implicit in the hushed conversations. But mostly, I love the librarians.

Two of My Favorite Poems for National Poetry Month. Do you have a favorite to share?

April is National Poetry Month

I wanted to drop in and share two poems with y'all.

Any of you have a poem you especially love?  I'm always interested in hearing new bits of poetry, and am especially fond of modern poetry with a bit of whimsy.  But there are as many different types and styles poetry as there are fiction - and we all have different tastes, styles, and forms of expression we enjoy.  If you have a particular favorite, I'd love it if you'd leave it in the comments section, please!

O.K.

So.

Here's two of my favorites . . .

Two poems about red dresses  (you know how I'm partial to the color red  .  .  .  ) .

Two poems about the same thing, and yet they're about as different as different can possibly be.

Here they are -


Enjoy!




The Red Dress
by Dorothy Parker

I always saw, I always said
If I were grown and free,
I'd have a gown of reddest red
As fine as you could see,

To wear out walking, sleek and slow,
Upon a Summer day,
And there'd be one to see me so
And flip the world away.

And he would be a gallant one,
With stars behind his eyes,
And hair like metal in the sun,
And lips too warm for lies.

I always saw us, gay and good,
High honored in the town.
Now I am grown to womanhood....
I have the silly gown.


AND . . .



The Red Dress (or What do Women Want)
by Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I'm the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,
it'll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in.






 













(excerpted in part from earlier post dated April 1, 2009 - Needing a little red in my life)

What's Wrong With Being Twisted? by Alan Orloff

Alan Orloff's debut mystery, DIAMONDS FOR THE DEAD (Midnight Ink), will be released in April 2010.  The first book in his new Last Laff series, KILLER ROUTINE (March 2011, also from Midnight Ink), features Channing Hayes, a stand-up comic with a tragic past. 

A former engineer, marketing manager, and newsletter editor, Alan lives in Northern Virginia

with his wife and two children.

For more info, visit www.alanorloff.com

 

What's Wrong With Being Twisted?

by Alan Orloff

Thanks, Kaye, for inviting me to guest blog today--it's a pleasure, even if I have a tough, tough act to follow in Pat Conroy.

Five years ago, I didn't know a soul in the mystery writing community. Sure, I'd been an avid reader of crime fiction most of my adult life, but I never had the opportunity to interact with any real-life writers. I didn't participate in any of the numerous on-line social sites or listservs or virtual water coolers (heck, I didn't even know they existed!). And I'd never been to a mystery convention. No Bouchercon, no Edgars Week, no Thrillerfest. I had no one to discuss crime fiction with except the poor lady at the bookstore, who I'm sure tired of me yapping on and on about wise-cracking PIs with soft hearts and great aim.

But during the past five years, I became more immersed in the craft and business of writing crime fiction. And without a doubt, one of the most satisfying by-products has been my introduction to the wonderful crime fiction community.

I've met scores of people with the same interests as me: in person at conferences, conventions, and in workshops, as well as on-line via blogs, listservs, and discussion groups.

After years of wandering alone, I'd found my peeps! (no, not these peeps).

Now I follow the discussions on DorothyL (mostly as a lurker). Every day, I make the rounds of fifty (or more) blogs to see what's new (aside: one of the best "community-fostering" blogs is this very one--Kudos, Kaye!).  I Facebook and Twitter and blog, connecting with people who share the same love of crime fiction that I do, and I've come to one important realization:

The crime fiction community is a generous bunch of twisted psychos! (Of course, I mean that in only the nicest sense.)

Everyone I've met has been more than willing to help and offer their support. To wit:

I've gotten writing advice from published authors and feedback from agents. I've hammered out plot points and discussed characterizaton with fellow workshop participants and critique partners. I've received promotion pointers and bookselling tips from other writers, publicists, and booksellers. I've gotten a blurb from a NY Times best selling author. I've gotten warm words of encouragement from book reviewers and great recommendations from book lovers.

Most importantly, I've gotten thanks from readers.

So now it's my turn to thank all those who helped me along the way.

THANKS! And I'm sure the poor lady at the bookstore thanks you too.

Pat Conroy

Pat Conroy - Author of The Boo, The Water is Wide, The Great Santini, The Lords of Discipline, The Prince of Tides, Beach Music, My Losing Season, The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes of My Life, and South of Broad.

If you've ever stopped by Meanderings and Muses before,  you're already aware of my love of Mr. Pat

Conroy's work.  And chances are you've already read everything I've written about him - some of which, in honor of his blog tour being put on by TLC Book Tours - I'm posting yet again.  He is, after all, my literary hero.  Mine along with about 20 beezillion other folks.  But, I'm the one who gushes.  I do not know when to hush (many of you already know this, right?), so I'm just gonna get on with it . . .

There are reasons why people love this man.  There's his work, of course, but there's also the man himself.  I had the pleasure of meeting him one time.  Only once, and very shortly.  But I can tell you, from that one meeting, that he is one of the most endearing, totally charming, captivating people anyone could ever hope to have the opportunity of encountering.

Charisma is a trait some are born with.  There's no faking it.  It's a sparkle that comes from within and wraps itself around those lucky enough to be in the vicinity of one in possession of it.  "It" is in no short supply when it comes to Pat Conroy - he fairly glimmers with the joy of life and the effervescence of genius.  His interest in, and observation of, everyone around him is immediately obvious, and you see a speck of what might be one of the key ingredients of what makes him the writer he is.  Magic.

And if you'll bear with me, please, I'm going to repeat my Pat Conroy story.  Perhaps one of these days I'll get to meet him again, then I can quit telling this one and replace it with a newer one.  Maybe.

When Donald and I were still living in Atlanta, Mr. Conroy did a signing of "Beach Music," and we, of course, went to Mr. Conroy's signing. My first edition, personally inscribed and autographed copy of this marvelous book is one of my life's treasures. As is remembering the conversation we had regarding Fripp Island. While we waited in line, my Donald kept saying things like "now you need to talk to him - don't freeze up, tell him how much you admire his work, tell him you love Fripp Island - say something!!" So, when it came time to hand this great man my book, I spurted out "I love Fripp Island. Wish I lived there." (brilliant, huh?! pfft). Mr. Conroy stood up, left his chair, came around the table, asked our names, shook our hands, leaned against the table and said "You know Fripp Island? Tell me how you know Fripp." I could have died. But I rambled on at some length about how a group of very close friends would go to Fripp every year for Memorial Day weekend. How we would always rent the same big old house at the very tippy end of the island and how we did that for several years and how those weekends were some of the loveliest of my life. Without missing a beat, he said - "I've heard of you! Weren't you and your friends told to leave the island and never return?!" And threw his head back and laughed a big booming, from the soul, laugh. And so did I. That, of course, never happened, but that he could even just say such an outrageous thing, made me just want to laugh with him, and kneel at his feet. He then proceeded to chat with us at length about Fripp, and his love for the island, acting as though we were the only people in the room with him at the time. I was honored by his attentiveness, and completely in awe of his graciousness. If I had not been a huge fan before, that did it. He's funny, ever so personable, I just love him to bits and he is one of my heroes. We all need heroes.

So.  I'm honored and over the moon tickled to be included as one of the hosts on this tour.  You can see the entire schedule at TLC's webpage; and if you're as big a fan as I am, you'll be following the schedule right along with me.  I also recommend you stop by his official webpage which is chock full of fun and interesting stuff, including articles and interviews, including a couple of  videos.  AND a picture of his desk.  Yay!  You know, I've been asking my guest bloggers,

most of whom are mystery/crime fiction authors, to include pictures of their workspaces this year, so it just seems fitting that we include one of Mr. Conroy's.  Right?! 

TLC Book Tours tells us  - not surprisingly, that Mr. Conroy is too busy to really participate in the tour by writing guest posts. And that makes me kinda sad.  But.  There is a very slight possibility that he might be available to answer questions. I'm not sure I'd count on this, but it's lovely to think it "might" happen.  So why not leave a comment, then cross your fingers and click your heels and wish on a star and who knows, maybe Mr. Conroy will pop in and respond.  Well, it COULD happen!  Right?!

And, heck - even if he doesn't, through the generosity of Mr. Conroy's publisher,  I'm able to offer a give-away to one of you who does leave a comment. So, if you'd like your name entered in a drawing for a trade/paperback copy of "South of Broad" to be sent directly to the winning entrant by the publisher, please include your email address with your comment. (Random House will ship to US/Canadian addresses only). 

 

I would love to write a review about South of Broad.  That is, after all, what I'm supposed to be doing.  The simple fact of the matter is, I can't write a review worth beans.   What I can do is tell you that Mr. Conroy has given us more magic.

If you're already a fan, and you've already read Mr. Conroy's work, you'll know he shares secrets when he writes.  He writes characters who live life fuller than most - as I suspect Mr. Conroy does.  Along with their magic,  they harbor secrets.

The characters in South of Broad have secrets.  They are tragic and damaged.  They're believable.  They also possess the irreverent humor we've come to expect in Conroy characters and we fall in love with them as we lose ourselves in Conroy's dialogue and writing.  Writing  more poetic than mortals are meant to pen, I'm sure.  We soar when they soar, we shed tears when their dreams are shattered, but we never ever lose hope.  We may think we do - temporarily, but hope finds its way back; always.   Magic.

We're especially entranced by the lead character in this particular book from page one - the City of Charleston.

I have visited Charleston many times.  As a visitor, I always know there is much more to this beautiful, mysterious city than any visitor will ever see.  The secret walled gardens of the stunningly gorgeous homes speak volumes about her character.  Mimicking her secret gardens, Charleston's doors are firmly closed to those of us who visit simply to enjoy her beauty, her history, culture, fine restaurants and exquisite shops.  In "South of Broad," Mr. Conroy allows us to peek briefly behind those closed doors; and then we ask ourselves if it was worth it.  Did we really want to see the secrets?

Too late - they are now ours.  To live in our hearts forever.  Magically, we'll remember the secrets, along with the words, with deepest respect, and awe, and then we'll immediately start wishing for his next piece of work.

In addition to being a fan of Pat Conroy's, I'm an avid fan of most things southern.  You do not get any more southern than Charleston, South Carolina.  Nor do you get any more southern than Pat Conroy.  He is, as everyone knows, (as are so many of our sons of the south) - a born storyteller.  That he is blessed with this talent, and able to couple it with heartbreakingly beautiful writing is magic.  And it's a gift he generously shares with all of us.  It's a gift I will cherish and treasure forever, and forever in return send him huge thanks, for he has enriched my life.

Here's a little taste of the magic.  From page one of "South of Broad."  We meet our narrator, Leopold Bloom King.

"It was my father who called the city the Mansion on the River.

He was talking about Charleston, South Carolina, and he was a native son, peacock proud of a town so pretty it makes your eyes ache with pleasure just to walk down its spellbinding, narrow streets.  Charleston was my father's ministry, his hobbyhorse, his quiet obsession, and the great love of his life.  His bloodstream lit up my own with a passion for the city that I've never lost nor ever will.  I'm Charleston-born, and bred.  The city's two rivers, the Ashley and the Cooper, have flooded and shaped all the days of my life on this storied peninsula."


And here's a little more about SOUTH OF BROAD written by people who, unlike myself, do know how to write reviews - - -   

From TLC Book Tours:  "Leopold Bloom King has been raised in a family shattered—and shadowed—by tragedy. Lonely and adrift, he searches for something to sustain him and finds it among a tightly knit group of high school outsiders. Surviving marriages happy and troubled, unrequited loves and unspoken longings, hard-won successes and devastating breakdowns, as well as Charleston, South Carolina’s dark legacy of racism and class divisions, these friends will endure until a final test forces them to face something none of them are prepared for.

Spanning two turbulent decades, South of Broad is Pat Conroy at his finest: a masterpiece from a great American writer whose passion for life and language knows no bounds."

From Kirkus (starred review):  "[The] first novel in 14 years from the gifted spinner of Southern tales (Beach Music, 1995, etc.) – a tail-wagging shaggy dog at turns mock-epic and gothic, beautifully written throughout. The title refers, meaningfully, to a section of Charleston, S.C., and, as with so many Southern tales, one great story begets another and another. This one starts promisingly: ‘Nothing happens by accident.' Indeed. The Greeks knew that, and so does young Leopold Bloom King. It is on Bloomsday 1969 that 18-year-old Leo learns his mother had once been a nun. Along the way, new neighbors appear, drugs make their way into the idyllic landscape and two new orphans turn up ‘behind the cathedral on Broad Street.' The combination of all these disparate elements bears the unmistakable makings of a spirit-shaping saga. The year 1969 is a heady one, of course, with the Summer of Love still fresh in memory, but Altamont on the way and Vietnam all around. Working a paper route along the banks of the Ashley River and discovering the poetry of place, Leo gets himself in a heap of trouble, commemorated years later by the tsk-tsking of the locals. But he also finds out something about how things work and who makes them work right – or not. Leo's classic coming-of-age tale sports, in the bargain, a king-hell hurricane. Conroy is a natural at weaving great skeins of narrative and this one will prove a great pleasure to his many fans."

From Booklist:  "An unlikely group of Charlestonian teens forms a friendship in 1969, just as the certainties and verities of southern society are quaked by the social and political forces unleashed earlier in the decade. They come from all walks of life, from the privileged homes of the aristocracy, from an orphanage, from a broken home where an alcoholic mother and her twins live in fear of a murderous father, from the home of public high school's first black football coach, and from the home of the same school's principal. The group's fulcrum, Leopold Bloom King, is just climbing out of childhood mental illness after having discovered his handsome, popular, athletic, scholarly older brother dead from suicide. Over the next two decades, these friends find success in journalism, the bar, law enforcement, music, and Hollywood. Echoing some themes from his earlier novels, Conroy fleshes out the almost impossibly dramatic details of each of the friends' lives in this vast, intricate story, and he reveals truths about love, lust, class, racism, religion, and what it means to be shaped by a particular place, be it Charleston, South Carolina, or anywhere else in the U.S."

From Publisher's Weekly:  "Leopold Bloom King narrates a paean to his hometown and friends in Conroy's first novel in 14 years. In the late '60s and after his brother commits suicide, then 18-year-old Leo befriends a cross-section of the city's inhabitants: scions of Charleston aristocracy; Appalachian orphans; a black football coach's son; and an astonishingly beautiful pair of twins, Sheba and Trevor Poe, who are evading their psychotic father. The story alternates between 1969, the glorious year Leo's coterie stormed Charleston's social, sexual and racial barricades, and 1989, when Sheba, now a movie star, enlists them to find her missing gay brother in AIDS-ravaged San Francisco. Some characters are tragically lost to the riptides of love and obsession, while others emerge from the frothy waters of sentimentality and nostalgia. Fans of Conroy's florid prose and earnest melodramas are in for a treat." 

AND 

ta DA -

I bring news!

You've probably already caught wind of this . . . 

but,

if not - - -

Guess What!

There's another gift on the way.

And it's called "My Life in Books"

and it's a memoir written by Pat Conroy.

scheduled for release in September of this year.

Hooray!!

This from Bookpage.com -

 

Bestselling author Pat Conroy acknowledges the books that have shaped him and celebrates the profound effect reading has had on his life.

Pat Conroy, the beloved American storyteller, is also a vora­cious reader. He has for years kept a notebook in which he notes words or phrases, just from a love of language. But read­ing for him is not simply a pleasure to be enjoyed in off-hours or a source of inspiration for his own writing. It would hardly be an exaggeration to claim that reading has saved his life, and if not his life then surely his sanity.

In My Life in Books, Conroy revisits a life of passionate reading. He includes wonderful anecdotes from his school days, mov­ing accounts of how reading pulled him through dark times, and even lists of books that particularly influenced him at vari­ous stages of his life, including grammar school, high school, and college. Readers will be enchanted with his ruminations on reading and books, and want to own and share this perfect gift book for the holidays. And, come graduation time, My Life in Books will establish itself as a perennial favorite, as did Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go! 

Product Details

• Hardcover: 192 pages
• Publisher: Nan A. Talese (September 7, 2010)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0385533578
• ISBN-13: 978-0385533577 

Laws, I hope I get an opportunity to meet this giant of a man one more time; my literary hero.  But if not - well then, I guess I just hope he'll continue writing for years to come.  Fiction and non.  His words truly are purely magical and we all need a little magic in our lives.  right?!

FTC Disclosure Notice:

SOUTH OF BROAD: A Novel
Pat Conroy
Nan A. Talese/Doubleday
Publication date: August 11, 2009
Price: $29.95
ISBN: 978-0-385-41305-3

I bought this book.

I was also sent a copy of this book by the publisher.
No payment of any kind has been made for my stated opinion.
 

The Black Hawk War by Bo "The Old Cobbler" Parker

As to biographical information, i. e., who I am; well I'm still trying to figure that one out. For more than half a century, I've hidden behind words, first as a news and sports reporter with a BS in Journalism from UT-Knoxville, my hometown.

Following that career, a quarter century was spent writing historical non-fiction.  So, it was with a lot of naiveté and way too much self confidence that I decided some four years ago to write a novel, a mystery. I managed to get a well-known mystery writer with some forty books published to review my first manuscript. He sent me an eleven-page, single spaced letter. The first page and a half told me what I had done correctly. The other nine and a half pages listed the things I needed to learn. I am still learning.

Cobbler's Corner

The Black Hawk War by Bo Parker

Up front, a huge Thank You to Kaye who has once again graciously agreed to allow me to cobble up her space with another slice of our nation’s history.

Having moved into my eighth decade of existence in this life form, my interest in things historical is changing. This happens when one realizes he has been alive longer than the last three US Presidents, the last four US Vice-Presidents, and half the members of the US Senate.

It also explains my dwindling interest in current politics. Everything is beginning to sound like reruns. What I find more fascinating these days are the events involving individuals before they made it to the political big time and became “historical” figures.

Such is the story here. It includes four future US presidents and the future president of the Confederate States of America, all directly involved with events relating to Native American leader Black Hawk, a man who has also become recognized as a major figure in our nation’s history.

This is also a story involving Fort Monroe, an Army post within the municipal boundaries of Hampton, Virginia. A large number of events throughout American history, as well as the people involved, including five of the six individuals in this story, have ties to the fort.

Its location is near the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay, on a small barrier spit of land called Old Point Comfort. This piece of American soil has been a continuous English-speaking part of the nation for over four hundred years.

NOTE: The Wisconsin Historical Society ((http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/ ) has an extensive collection of material on Native American Black Hawk and the circumstances surrounding the Black Hawk War. It is said without hesitation it represents one of the best collections on a subject that this student of American history has found, on-line or elsewhere.

Those interested in learning more about Black Hawk and a fascinating period in our nation’s history can go to the WHS site, use its built-in search function, and spend hours reading documents, personal stories, and viewing collections of images of the period.

Events leading to the Black Hawk War

The series of events that culminated in Black Hawk being held in federal custody for thirty-five days, May 1-June 4,1833, at Virginia’s Fort Monroe are the type that give ironic twists to our nation’s history and serve as epilogues to future events.

Black Hawk, a member of the Sauk Nation, was born in 1767 while his tribe was camped in its summer grounds along the Rock River, near what is now Rock Island, Illinois.  He was given the name Makataimeshekiakiak, meaning, "be a large black hawk."


He had no hereditary claim to the title of chief. His role of leadership was earned through more than forty years of battle-hardened experience. He was still in his teens when he first tasted battle, and earned the right to join the Scalp Dance, a victory celebration.

By the beginning of the nineteenth century, Native Americans in the upper Midwest had settled many of the territorial differences among themselves and become united in the defense of their traditional homelands against the growing invasion of white settlers.

Attempts to negotiate peaceful agreements with the US government were constantly rebuffed. When the War of 1812 began, Black Hawk and other Native American leaders joined the battle on the British side, seeing the Redcoats as the lesser of two evils in their struggle for land.

After the Americans won the War of 1812, Black Hawk and other Sauk leaders refocused their efforts to settle a dispute involving a treaty dating back to 1804. During that year, Virginia born and future US President William Henry Harrison, who at the time was a territorial governor, met with two members of the Sauk tribe in St. Louis.

Harrison walked away from the meeting with a treaty stating the US government had “purchased the right to open all Sauk lands east of the Mississippi to (white) settlement for $2,500.” Sauk Chiefs, when they heard about the deal, took the position that the two men with whom Harrison had met did not have the authority to represent the entire Sauk Nation, making the treaty invalid.

This legality of the treaty remained in dispute for the next 28 years, a period that saw the Native Americans mix unsuccessful attempts to negotiate with the US government, a military alliance with the British, and after that defeat, actions that today would be call isolated terrorist attacks against settlers.

Finally, in the spring of 1832, Black Hawk led some 600 Sauk and Fox warriors and their families eastward across the Mississippi River. The move was a declaration of war, a move to retake their land by sheer force.

The immediate response was a call from the territorial governor’s office for local white settlers to form a volunteer militia. Some historians have questioned the military effectiveness of this assemblage, citing this as the reason the US Army ordered five companies of soldiers stationed at Fort Monroe to be sent west to join the war.

In 1903, the New York Times reviewed a book, “The Black Hawk War,” written by Frank E. Stevens, and privately published in Chicago. Quoted in the review is the recounting of an incident that allegedly occurred after regular Army forces arrived in Illinois.

The leader of the volunteer militia was reluctant to give the order to his men, who were “tired and out of humor,” to cross a river, swimming if they found the water too deep to wade. Word of this reluctance was delivered to a US Army officer across the river, a man who had recently been promoted to colonel.

Col. Zachary Taylor, born in Montebello, Virginia, rode in a rowboat to the opposite shore where he berated the local militia. According to a quote in Stevens’ book, Col. Taylor concluded his comments with the following.

“You are citizen soldiers and some of you may fill high offices or even be President some day, but never unless you do your duty. Forward! March!”

It can never be proven if Stevens was taking advantage of later events, which he knew, when in 1903, he gave the colonel credit for these words.

But among the volunteer militiamen that day was 23-year-old Abraham Lincoln. Standing at Colonel Taylor’s side as his aide was 24-year old Second Lieutenant Jefferson Davis from Fort Monroe.

Lincoln, without experiencing the heat of battle, completed his tour as a volunteer soldier weeks later, mustered out, and returned to his home in New Salem, Illinois, to continue his first unsuccessful campaign for a seat in the state legislature.

Some three years after Colonel Taylor addressed the volunteer militiamen, his daughter, Sarah (Sallie) Knox Taylor married the man who stood by her father’s side as his aide, Jefferson Davis. Shortly after the wedding, both Davis and his wife contacted malaria. Sallie Taylor Davis died three months after the wedding.

Seventeen years later, Taylor would be elected the nation’s 12th US President. Less than a dozen years after Taylor’s brief presidency, Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis would be the Commander-in-Chief of their respective armies during the Civil War.

The federal troops and local militiamen continued their pursuit of Black Hawk and his followers north into what is now the state of Wisconsin. The Native Americans, hopelessly outmanned, had given up the fight for their summer home. After attempts to surrender had been rebuffed, they were trying to return to the safety of their land west of the Mississippi River.

The pursuers caught up with Black Hawk and his followers on the second day in August 1832, on the banks of the Bad Axe River near the present-day town of Victory, Wisconsin. Like many events in our government’s relationship with Native Americans, there are two perspectives on what happened that day. The official report the government’s victory during the eight-hour “battle” can read at: http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/teachers/lessons/secondary/atkinson.asp

The outcome of the confrontation at Bad Axe River is told from a different perspective by the State of Wisconsin. On a historical marker near the site are the words, “Driven into the water by their pursuers, Indians - warriors, old people, women, children - were shot or drowned as they tried to escape.”

Historians not on the federal government’s payroll have used the term, “The Massacre at Bad Axe River.” It was the last “Indian battle” fought in the Midwest, east of the Mississippi.

Bad Axe River marker

Black Hawk and a small number of warriors survived the ambush at Bad Axe River and fled the area, feeling certain that they would face certain death if captured.  During the next three weeks, as government troops searched the countryside, negotiations for a peaceful end to the manhunt was conducted through intermediaries.

On August 27, the Native Americans surrendered without incident to a government Indian Agent in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin.

Black Hawk Surrender marker

After their surrender, Black Hawk, along with his son Whirling Thunder, a tribal shaman, White Cloud, and several others who surrendered, were taken as prisoners to Jefferson Barracks, a federal installation near St. Louis.

The officer in charge of the federal soldiers who escorted the prisoners south to St. Louis was Second Lieutenant Jefferson Davis. After the end of the Civil War, Davis himself would be arrested in Georgia and taken to Fort Monroe, under the armed escort of federal troops.

The Native Americans spent the winter in Missouri before orders were issued through the military chain of command that they be released and escorted east to Washington.  In April 1833 Black Hawk was taken to the White House.

Two Old Warriors Meet At White House

It has been written that when Black Hawk was introduced to Andrew Jackson, he saluted the President of the United States, and said, “I am a man and you are another.” While we will never know all that the two old warriors talked about that day, or exactly how long the conversation lasted, the two men had a lot in common.

Andrew Jackson probably had a better understanding and appreciation of Black Hawk than he did of many of his fellow politicians in the nation’s Capitol. Both men were the same age, 66, and had grown up in the frontier areas of the nation.  Both men had spent a major portion of their lives fighting in battles over land in the westward expansion of the nation’s frontier. They also understood what the white man’s expansion meant for both sides, and the other man’s reason for fighting.

“Old Hickory,” as President Jackson was called, told Black Hawk that he and his companions would be sent to Fort Monroe until decisions were made regarding their return to the west. The president made one demand that reportedly upset Black Hawk. During their remaining time in the east, the Native Americans would be required to swap their buckskins for “white man’s” clothing.

Unlike Jefferson Davis, who spent two years locked in a cell at Fort Monroe before he was released, the Native Americans were not confined to a cell or quarters. They were allowed to wander free within the installation and given “every proper indulgence.”

The public reaction to the Native Americans’ arrival at Fort Monroe was to treat them as a major curiosity. This created a booming business for the Hygeia, a waterfront resort hotel that shared Old Point Comfort with the fort.



The number of journalists and private citizens clamoring for passage created a demand that led steamboat lines to add additional trips to Old Point Comfort. It was a rare opportunity for people in the east to see Native Americans from the western frontier in safe, civilized surroundings.

Much was written about what was observed and what Black Hawk said during his time at the fort. Since he did not speak English, a government employee was assigned as his translator. Black Hawk later complained that some of his comments were not accurately translated. They made good reading in the press.

It was reported that a lady visitor, described as “remarkable for her fine hair,” presented Black Hawk with a tomahawk. His response, reportedly said while patting her on the head, was “What a beautiful head for scalping.”

One newspaper, The New York Courier, reported an incident as proof that he “loved to take naps.” A young lady visiting Old Point Comfort observed that Black Hawk looked bored. She decided to cheer him up.

“She sat down at the piano and played for two hours and a half, some of the most admired Italian arias. She was delighted at the charmed attention exhibited by the illustrious red man, who neither moved or uttered a syllable, and on finishing looked around for his applause, but found him fast asleep as a church.”

As enlightening and entertaining as these stories may be, artist Robert Matthew Sully, a native of Petersburg, Virginia, and the nephew of the renowned portrait painter Thomas Sully, produced more lasting impressions of the Native Americans at Fort Monroe.

The younger Sully, age 30 at the time, painted several portraits of Black Hawk,his son, Loud Thunder, and White Cloud, a Sauk medicine man. Today these paintings hang in respected museums across the country. However, some have criticized the portraits for both what they present and why they were painted.

Critics said Sully failed to “capture the image of the Noble Savage.” They pointed to fellow artist George Catlin, whose extensive sketches, including Black Hawk and others while they were at Jefferson Barracks, portray a more “realistic” image of Native Americans in their natural habitat and dress.

As to intent, it has been suggested Sully was part of the government’s “propaganda” plan designed to show Black Hawk’s transformation from “savage” to “civilized man.” They point as proof to the fact that the Army gave Sully free room and board while he worked at the post.

Regardless of intent or motivation, Robert Sully (1803-1865) left future generations detailed images of a man who is recognized today as a major figure in American history, by both Native Americans and those who attempted to eradicate them from the country.

Several of Sully’s portraits of the Native Americans, as well as a sketch done by George Catlin during Black Hawk’s imprisonment at Jefferson Barracks in Missouri can be found at
http://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/wiacrev/wiacrev-idx?type=HTML&rgn=DIV1&byte=426050&q1=&q2=&q3=

This site also includes commentary on the different methods used by Sully and Catlin to preserve images of Native Americans  -  sketches vs. oil paintings.

Black Hawk After Fort Monroe

Within the body of writing devoted to Black Hawk and his years-long involvement in the battles during the nation’s expansion westward, there are two books worth noting. After settling in Iowa after his release from Fort Monroe, Black Hawk dictated his autobiography to a U. S. interpreter. The subsequently published book (1833), came under criticism by those who suggested it reflected the words and thinking of the interpreter and editor more than those of Black Hawk.


The University of Illinois Press republished this book in 1955 after it was “edited” by Donald Jackson, a member of the university press’ staff.


Dr. Kerry A. Task, a professor and early American history scholar at the University of Wisconsin-Manitowoc, wrote “BLACK HAWK: The Battle For The Heart Of America.”  This book, published in 2007, received very favorable reviews from fellow American history scholars.


Fort Monroe; It’s Beginning and End

Black Hawk was only one of a vast number of prominent men in the nation’s history to walk the grounds of Old Point Comfort and Fort Monroe. Members of the Virginia Company, the founders of Jamestown, left the first “white man’s footprints” on May 14, 1607 when they came ashore.  Two years later, the colonists built the nation’s first coastal defense post on the site.

In 1823, the first US troops arrived at still-under-construction Fort Monroe.  This marked the beginning of the fort’s claim as the oldest, continuously occupied military post in the United States. However, this distinction will come to an end in 2011 when the US Army abandons the fort.

What happens to this historical site when military forces leave after 188 years of occupancy is still being debated. Whichever path future development of the site may take, the “footprints” left by Black Hawk and hundreds of prominent men like him give Old Point Comfort a unique place in our nation’s history that cannot be swept away.