A Woman of Her Time

Last week I talked about villains and how we love to hate them.

Today, my subject is the heroine (ha, I expect you thought it would be the hero).

I like strong heroines, women who know their own minds and aren't afraid to go after what they want. Sounds just like a 21st century gal, doesn't it.

But today's women are shaped by today's society. You can't take at 21st century woman and plunk her down in the 19th century unless you are writing time travel. Women back then were as much the product of their times as a woman of today.

My heroine, Damaris, would no doubt be scandalized by today's women. She was raised to be subservient to men. First, her father, who gives her away in marriage without so much as a by-your-leave.

Today's woman would object loudly and strongly. Damaris is understandably upset, but she goes along with it. Because that's how she was raised. She never expected to marry for love.

When her husband ignores her and treats her like an uninvited guest, openly flaunting his mistress, Damaris doesn't like it. But she has no recourse. No where to go. No other family since her Papa committed the unpardonable sin of suicide, an act that leaves her further ostracized by her former "friends." And divorce, back then, was not an option.

Damaris, lonely and forgotten, is the perfect prey for Simon, who sees her as a pleasant interlude during his tenure at Riverbend. Only when Damaris falls in love for the first time and then is placed in danger of her life does she dare step beyond her boundaries, self-imposed and otherwise.

Her act doesn't necessarily make her any braver. She is still afraid of what "society" will say about her transgression. She is desperately afraid of being caught out in her lies, exposed as the "fallen woman" she has become.

It wasn't easy back then. I'm not saying it is easier now, but if you leave an abusive husband your friends will still talk to you.

In "Riverbend," I have to ask the reader to walk a while in Damaris' shoes. Maybe her choices won't seem so spineless. Maybe they will see her as a heroine of her time.

Who is your favorite heroine? Mine is Scarlett O'Hara, even as I remind myself that her strength was forged in war and loss. If the Civil War had never happened, she might well have married one of Tarlton twins and spent her life raising children.

The Villains We Love

We had a terrible thunderstorm this morning. Storms don't bother me (unless they knock the electricity out), but it sure scared the cat, who hid under my bed.

So I spent the hours before gettin'-up-time with my iPad, catching up on blogs and Tweets. I read Heather McGovern's blog Bad Girlz Write (May 20) "They're Best when they're Baddest" where she blogs about why we love villains.

And we do. There's something in us that secretly admires their audacity and complete disregard for the rules we "Good Girlz" follow.

Yep, we need a villain to make our characters use their wits to outsmart him, to learn something about themselves, to grow in understanding.

I admit it, I love creating villains more than heroes. They make me stretch my imagination. And it is so much fun when I bring about their demise. This demise, denouement, or comeuppance, depending on your viewpoint, can come about in two ways.

In one, the villain is completely demolished: dead, imprisoned or somehow made impotent.  This ending makes us cheer. Other times he manages to redeem himself at the end of the story--which also makes us cheer.

And, we need a little bit of villain in every hero. Too perfect is too boring. Yes, our heroes have to overcome their weaknesses, but in the long run, those weaknesses (or hint of villainy) make them more real to us.

Do you have a favorite villain?

Mine is Messala (played by Stephen Boyd in the movie "Ben Hur"). Remember the chariot race and those lethal wheels?

Aah, villains. We love and hate them.

Coordination

I've always wanted to try Tai-chi, and when our library offered free classes, I showed up -- a week early.

The instructor kindly explained what the class entailed and gave me some literature to study. As I read, I became more convinced that this was for me. What other exercise (or, more correctly, martial art) helps coordinate movement and breathing as well as strengthen the body and mind?

Besides, it looks so graceful. Like a beautifully choreographed dance.

Somewhere along the line, I forgot that I was anything but coordinated. I was the only fifth grader asked to sit out while the rest of the class practiced the Virginia Reel. I never mastered the polka. My dream of roller skating backward never came to fruition.

In other words, I am a klutz.

But, I have persevered. I think I have mastered some of the arm movements. Putting them together with the steps is another story. But the instructor promised the class -- most of whom were groaning along with me -- that by the end of the course, we WILL have learned all 15 movements and will be able to do them just as gracefully as the demo video expert.

I bought the video so I could practice at home. But it's better in class where the instructor can correct my errors before they get too deeply ingrained.

The difference between this class and my aforementioned doomed efforts is this: encouragement. The instructor didn't tell me I was a hopeless case. She didn't suggest I sit and watch, or quit after one lesson, telling me I was hopeless. Maybe if I hadn't listened to my earlier teachers, I would have mastered the dance--or the backward skating. But I was encouraged to give up, not go on.

It's a little like writing. We have to coordinate plot, character and setting. The story must move along without faltering. And, we need editors, proof-readers and beta readers to catch our errors as well as add encouragement and support.

As for "Riverbend," it is nearing the end. I have one more scene to write. Then comes the editing and revising, then getting some beta readers who will read the story and offer constructive criticism, followed by more editing and revising, and finally sending it out to find a home.

It's a long road to publication. Sort of like learning all the steps in Tai Chi.

Sneak preview of "Riverbend"

A few weeks ago, I promised that you would meet Damaris, the heroine in my WIP, "Riverbend." I think the best way to do this is to let you read the first chapter, which introduces Damaris and her astonishingly brief courtship. Here's the link: Riverbend

I read the chapter to my writers' club last Sunday. I was nervous because we have some very talented writers. I wanted feedback and especially to know if they thought the chapter -- or the opening paragraphs -- were enough to draw the reader into the story.

I have lived with Damaris in my head for many years now. I tried to make her a secondary character in another novel, but she was too strong. She wanted to tell her own story ... oh, here she is now.

I read the chapter and hated it.

Hated it? Why?

It reminded me of that terrible day I was forced into that loveless marriage with Matthew Pope. I was only sixteen and didn't dare defy my Papa, but I soon wished I had. The only reason I obeyed is because I thought, as Mrs. Pope, I would be the mistress of a big plantation. 

Yes, Riverbend. But that didn't happen, did it.

No, my first discovery was that Riverbend already had a mistress, the slave Zoe. And she became my mortal enemy, although I was no threat to her until... (Shudders)

Was Zoe really a witch?

For awhile, I thought she had cast a spell on me, but I was able to overcome it. The other slaves certainly thought so. They hated her as much as I did.

What a terrible life you had, almost a captive on that farm, with only your son Matty for company.

(Smiles) It wasn't that bad. Both Zoe and Mr. Pope ignored me as worthless so I was free to do as I pleased. And I had Matty, until his father took a sudden interest in his education. That's when Simon came...

Ah, Simon. Wait--don't leave now!

I told you she was shy. There are some things she doesn't like to talk about, such as her elopement--a very dangerous step in that day and time, when a divorce was hard to obtain. She had to love Simon very much to give up her chances of ever seeing her son again.

Again, here's the link to the first chapter: Riverbend  Please let me know what you think. I welcome all comments.




 

Our Anson County Writers' Club, along with the Union County Writers'  Club and South Piedmont Community College (and a lot of help from the Anson County Arts Council, local businesses and foundations), held the fifth annual Carolinas Writers Conference last Saturday.

This was the culmination of a full year of contacting authors, selling and preparing ads for our program, and doing a lot of advertising. We had a wonderful full day of author talks and workshops, followed by an evening of story telling.

I got there at 8 a.m. and returned home around 10:30 p.m. Jim  was waiting up and patiently listened to me as I raved about how great it all was.

In two weeks, we will begin preparing for next year. Or not.

The question is: Do we really need to go through all this work and expense to attract so few people?

I was pondering this question when I ran into our pastor at Walmart this afternoon. After talking for a bit, we got on the subject of church attendance. He said that he once got to his small country church to find only one member there.

He held the service for that one devoted parishioner.

My feeling is that if the people who came were satisfied and expressed a desire to co me again, we should do it.

Now, I need your help. What is the best way to get the word out about this event? Here is what we did:

Posters in libraries, high schools and colleges
Newspaper articles
e-mail blasts
Twitter
Asking friends to re-post on their Facebook page
Website
Banner ad on N.C. Writers' Network website

One attendee said we should have a conference Fan page on Facebook. Sounds like a plan.

The local newspaper wrote a great article (check it out! lots of pictures!). I'm going to send the link to all the attendees who shared their e-mail address and ask them to tell their friends if they felt the conference was worthwhile.

Because I think word of mouth is the best advertisement.

If you can think of another way we can advertise this, please leave a comment.

This great opportunity is too good not to share with as many writers as possible.

My long love affair

I confess -- I've been having an affair that has lasted over  half a century. Vibrant, passionate, and ongoing.

Yes, I'm  in love with my library.

Always have been. Oh, the cities and the buildings have changed over the years, but the pure essence of library has stayed constant.

I first recall piling into the car (or taking the bus if Dad wasn't home to drive us) and going into town from our home in the country. Shopping, stopping for a soda at Eckerds Drug Store, all were fun, but the highlight was going to the library and filling our arms with books. I started with picture books and graduated to the Bobbsey Twins (Bert and Nan, Freddie and Flossie), The Wizard of Oz, all the Nancy Drew and Tarzan books, and so on. Sci-Fi kept my interest as a teenager (Asimov and Bradbury), and then I moved on to historical romances (which were pretty tame by today's standards).
                                                                                                                             
There was a small library right next to the elementary school. On Fridays, our fifth grade teacher, Miss Artello, took us there to get a book or books.  Then we either put our heads down while she read to us, or read our own books quietly while Miss Artello read hers. My favorite day of the week. In the summer I rode my bike to the library and took out as many books as the basket would hold. My ambition was to read every book in the tiny building, but as the books kept changing out, I never made it. Oddly that library is still open today although the school has long since closed.

In high school, my friends and I would study in the library on the Kent State campus and pretend we were college students. And when I was doing research for my graduate classes at the University of Buffalo, I enjoyed sitting in the carrel and knowing that not only did books surround me, they were stacked in the floors above and below me. I can't hear the word "stacks" without thinking of those thousands of volumes.

Libraries hold more than books, now. You can check out talking books, music CDs, and movies for free or a nominal fee. There are classes in computer literacy, programs featuring guest authors, even exercise groups. No one shushes you any more and the silence has been replaced by a low murmur of people exchanging computer tips or recommending the latest novel.

I have two e-readers, one for each of the major book sellers. I download books almost every day. But we still go to the library weekly. (The picture above shows part of the garden outside.)

 As I unload my shopping bag of its plethora of books,  Jim makes the same joke, "We  brought back your library." Then we select more books, go home and relax in our favorite chairs, and open our latest find. The library books are first choice, the e-readers are backup in case I run out and the library is closed.

Closed. I can't even imagine it if the library were to close, not just for a holiday or weekend, but permanently. Some say it will happen.

I hope not in my lifetime.

And so I celebrate National Library Week -- and celebrate a love that has lasted a lifetime.