Friday, November 8, 2013

Pilgrims, Indians, and the Dutch

by Diane Burton



We all know about the Pilgrims who sailed from England and landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620. In grade school, we made Pilgrim hats and Indian headdresses and performed skits about the First Thanksgiving when the Indians saved the early settlers from starving.



But there was more colonization during the early 1600’s that we (at least in Michigan) didn’t learn about in school. The influx of Dutch into New York and along the East Coast—then known as New Netherlands.




A story that has been passed down through my dad’s family shows a connection to those early settlers—a royal connection. According to the family story, Dad’s mother was a direct descendent of a woman named Anneke Jans who was the daughter of the King of Holland and that, for reasons unknown (or she disobeyed him), he disinherited her through seven generations. Since my grandmother’s generation was the seventh, her cousins decided they would all inherit money. To that end they hired a genealogist to research the connection. What Dad remembers is the genealogist continually coming to his mom and her cousins for more money for the research. The cousins paid him because, by golly, they had to prove they were due an inheritance.




Well, sorry to tell you, I’m not royalty and Anneke probably wasn’t either. Her story is one of the legends that persisted through time. Now there really was a woman named Anneke Jans. She and her husband Roeloff Jansen immigrated to America in 1630 and settled in New Amsterdam (New York). He died and she married Everardus Bogardus, a minister. It is through her children with Bogardus that my family is descended. To me, being able to claim that my family has been in America for over 500 years is better than being royal. Okay, maybe not. 

I often wondered if the story about Anneke being the daughter of a king was one she perpetuated. I mean, who would know? In those days, they didn’t exactly have the means to check her credentials. No Google. No Bing. No Wikipedia. It took months to travel from The Netherlands (then part of Norway) to New York. People could change their names, their life histories, start over. Maybe I malign her, but it makes sense to me.



In the late 1970s, Hubs and I decided to research our family history and we're still doing it. What fun we've had discovering where our families originated. We reached dead ends very quickly on some lines and were able to make connections much further back on others. Along the way, we learned more about the history of the United States and Canada. And I learned more about my Dutch connection. Too bad the royalty thing didn’t pan out.


I blog here on the 8th and 30th of each month and Mondays on my own blogsite http://dianeburton.blogspot.com  The early immigrants to our country are the basis for  my Outer Rim series, where people could start a new life with new names and new life histories out on the frontier of space.


Thursday, November 7, 2013

Squanto did what by Barbara Edwards



Sturbridge Village in Massachussetts is a great place to visit anytime of the year, but the Fall brings out memories of Thanksgiving past.
I’ve been there many times. Re-enactors often dress as Pilgrims and the displays are varied and interesting.
A few years ago I happened to be strolling through the museum when a display of old letters caught my eye. I love researching and checked them. Turns out they were written in the late 1600s and early 1700s by the children and grandchildren of the original Plymouth settlers. Now is where my story takes an interesting twist.
You need to know a little history to understand what happened.
The first settlers at Plymouth were ill-equipped for the hardships they faced. That winter was harsh, even by New England standards and disease quickly claimed a number of hunger weakened Pilgrims.
We’ve all been told the story of Squanto and how he helped the Pilgrims by showing them how to plant corn seeds with a dead fish to act as fertilizer. It seems Squanto had an incentive to help the struggling colony. He wanted to marry one of the widows. His tribe had a tradition that might have stopped a less determined man. A male must show he can provide for the family of his potential wife. And he thought all the colonists were related because of their referring to each other as ‘brother’ and ‘sister’.
Like many determined males, he found a way. He showed them how to plant enough to eat. His tribe gave their blessing and the widow married him.
How can this be verified several hundred years later—
Those letters I told you about went into detail on the question of what to call the children of these couples. There was more than one widow who chose to survive with a strong, intelligent man.
The correspondents finally decided the parents had made the decision. Some of the women had moved to live with the tribe and their children were Indians. Those who lived in the colony were white.
The facts are buried in the past, but I loved the idea of love finding a way.
Check out my holiday romance Journey of the Magi for another couple who finds a way to love.

Journey of the Magi blurb:

Widow Noel Martin never breaks promises, and she promised her kids they’d have Christmas at her childhood home in Connecticut. But driving across country takes money. Noel is broke when a snowstorm blows them into a tiny Minnesota café owned by a man who can change her mind. She accepts his offer of a job. Despite her attraction to him, she makes it clear she is only temporary help.
Dan Longstreet isn’t adopting any more strays, but he needs a waitress. Dan works so hard to make his café a success, he doesn't have time for love. Though Noel’s slender blonde beauty stuns him and her two adorable children tug at his heart, he denies how they threaten to change his life.
When tragedy strikes, their new-found love is the first victim. Noel can't stay and Dan can't leave. Will their journey be the gift that reunites them? 
Please follow, friend or like me. I love to hear from my readers.
Amazon Author’s Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003F6ZK1A


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Native American Indian Heritage Month & Western Lore by Amber Leigh Williams

The month of November is a lot of things. For some, it's a time to write with National Novel Writing Month kicking off on November 1. For others, it's a time for family with Thanksgiving right around the corner. For others, it's time to hit the stores because the Christmas holidays are coming up fast (if those early holiday commercials are any indication). It's important, though, particularly for me, to remember throughout all of this that November is also Native American Indian Heritage Month. I can't trace my ancestry back to those Indians who helped the pilgrims all those years ago...but my mother's family does have some ties with the Cherokee of Tennessee. That being said, I'd like to dedicate my post this month to Native American culture and its role in shaping the spirit of western lore....

I happen to write western fiction. Western romance, that is. Contemporary western romance. But if you go out west where cowboys drove their horses and cattle, even today you'll find heavy traces of the Ol' West. I think that's why we still find cowboys and ranches and rodeos so alluring. It's that fascinating whisper of what was. So much of fiction set throughout the West is derived from its people, culture, but maybe especially its setting. While researching my next western romance trilogy (yay!), I discovered an irresistible story backdrop - the Black Hills.

The Black Hills is one of the most storied mountain ranges in the American West. The knuckles of the range itself reach across the border of South Dakota into Wyoming. In contrast to other western mountain ranges, it is small (Harney Peak, the highest summit, is only 7,244 feet) and remote – far removed from the Rocky Mountains. An “island of trees in a sea of grass,” the Black Hills is home to the tallest peaks of continental North America east of the Rockies. Because they are covered in trees, the mountains appear dark in the distance. Therefore, the Lakota named the region HeSapa, or “Black Mountains.”

The Black Hills were first inhabited by Native Americans around 7000 BC. Among the tribes that called the range home were the Arikara, Cheyenne, Crow, Kiowa, and Pawnee. Finally, in the eighteenth century the Lakota made the Black Hills their home by driving out the other tribes. Much of Lakota culture is central to the Black Hills. Both the Cheyenne and the Lakota believed that the region was the axis mundi, or "sacred center of the world." However, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the discovery of gold caused many European Americans to flock to the Black Hills. Soon after, the last major Indian War on the Great Plains, known as the Black Hills War, unleashed. In violation of a treaty with the Native Americans, the United States seized control of the land. As late as 1980, the Supreme Court ruled that the Black Hills had been taken illegally from the tribes. The Lakota refused a settlement of one-hundred-and-six million dollars, citing that they wanted the return of the Black Hills to their people. To this day, they persist in their quest to reclaim their land.

In the late nineteenth century, thousands of gold miners descended on the mountain range. In 1880, there was no part of the Dakota Territory more densely populated than the Black Hills. The cities of Deadwood, Central City, and Lead formed amidst the great surge of pioneers. Railroads also began to crop up. Since 1880, the gold mines of the Black Hills have earned four million dollars a year with an additional three million dollars in silver.

The Black Hills are covered mostly in fragrant Ponderosa Pine and Black Hills Spruce. Though scattered throughout the range are picturesque grasslands in lieu of forests, home to mountain meadows or “open parks.” The wildlife of the Black Hills is very diverse. It is actually known as a “mixing and meeting place” where species from all parts of the north, south, east, and west go to mingle. For example, both the forest and grasslands create great habitats for American bison, a variety of deer, mountain lions, prairie dogs, marmots and fox squirrels in particular. The creeks that run through the Black Hills are known for their trout fishing.

Tourism is a large part of the Black Hills economy. The range is home to Custer State Park, South Dakota’s largest state park and one of the largest in the United States. In August, the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally takes place on the scenic roadways scattered throughout the Black Hills. In 2005, more than 550,000 bikers took part in the rally, bringing more tourism and revenue to the area. Famous sightseeing gems like Mount Rushmore National Memorial, Wind Cave National Park, Jewel Cave National Monument, Harney Peak, Bear Butte State Park, Devils Tower National Monument, The Crazy Horse Memorial (which is the largest sculpture in the world), and George S. Mickelson Trail also bring people from all around the world to the Black Hills.

Another vital part of the Black Hills community and economy is sheep and cattle ranching. And yes, Roses, here we find our cowboys! It's not hard for me to imagine my trilogy of heroes and their dude ranch nestled in a picturesque valley with those wondrous "Black Mountains" on the horizon and all that history and ghosts from the past waiting to be uncovered. I really can't wait to explore both the characters and those beautiful Black Hills - their landscape and history.

Amber Leigh Williams lives on the Gulf Coast. A southern girl at heart, she loves beach days, the smell of real books, relaxing at her family’s lakehouse, and spending time with her husband, Jacob, and their sweet, blue-eyed boy. When she’s not running after her young son and three, large dogs, she can usually be found reading a good romance or cooking up a new dish in her kitchen. She is represented by Joyce Holland of the D4EO Literary Agency. Find her on the web at www.amberleighwilliams.com!

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

In Praise of All Things Pumpkin by Alison Henderson

I’ll admit it right up front—I adore autumn. The air is crisp and cool. The sky is blue. Even here on the California coast, a few trees and bushes turn golden. It’s also that wonderful time of year when I’m free to indulge my passion for all things pumpkin.

A few weeks ago, our local middle school held a fundraiser selling spectacular, hand-blown glass pumpkins. Some were fanciful in blue and silver, others remarkably life-like in orange with green veins. All were gorgeous. Since we’re still a few weeks away from our move into our new house, I restrained myself and didn’t buy any. It wasn’t easy.

However, as tempting as the glass versions were, the main attraction of pumpkins is the flavor. Pumpkin cookies, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin pancakes—I love them all! With only two of us left at home, I don’t do much baking these days, but that doesn’t mean I have to do without. A new shop opened down the street called Nothing Bundt Cakes, and the name says it all. They sell several sizes of bundt cakes with cream cheese frosting in a wide variety of flavors. This month the flavor of the month is—you guessed it—Pumpkin Spice. It’s fantastic, comes is a bundlet size that serves two perfectly, and I don’t have to wash any pans!

When I entertain this time of year, I love to serve pumpkin cheesecake. I’ve tried several recipes, but this one from The Food Network is one of the easiest and best.

Pumpkin Cheesecake
Ingredients
Crust:
1 3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs
3 tablespoons light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 stick melted salted butter
Filling:
3 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, at room temperature
1 (15-ounce) can pureed pumpkin
3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
1/4 cup sour cream
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

For crust:

In medium bowl, combine crumbs, sugar and cinnamon. Add melted butter. Press down flat into a 9-inch springform pan. Set aside.

For filling:

Beat cream cheese until smooth. Add pumpkin puree, eggs, egg yolk, sour cream, sugar and the spices. Add flour and vanilla. Beat together until well combined.

Pour into crust. Spread out evenly and place in oven for 1 hour. Remove from the oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4 hours.

Enjoy!
Alison
http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

Monday, November 4, 2013

Getting Historical!

We’re getting a little historical on The Roses of Prose this month, so I thought I’d share the first pages of my YA historical, SAIL WITH ME, (writing as Christy Major) coming out soon as part of my Discovery Series. It takes place in the 1500s during the Age of Exploration and the Sunal Empire is based on the Aztec civilization.
 
Here’s the back cover text for SAIL WITH ME:

 
What would you do for an adventure?
 
Left back home in Southampton, England while her father and brothers explore the high seas, Charlotte Denham works as a maid and spends most of her days dreaming of sailing. She wants to explore the New World. She wants to be noticed. Tired of her family’s absence and being denied work on a ship because she’s a girl, Charlotte takes matters into her own hands.    

Charlotte expects to make her dreams come true. What she isn't expecting is Daniel Connor, fellow crew member aboard the Rose or Tizoc Metztli, exotic warrior of the Sunal Empire. Both have her feeling things she’s never felt before. Both notice her. Both need her.

When a gold-thirsty conquistador invades Tizoc’s empire, Charlotte must defend herself and the people she has come to love. Is she strong enough to shed blood? Is she strong enough to finish this adventure?

And here’s a little taste. Enjoy!

The sea kisses the sky

and stretches

to the ends of the Earth

like a waiting embrace.

I stand on one shore

wondering what secrets

the horizon holds.

She whispers my name,

pulls me from my daydreams,

and promises adventure.

 
“One of these times, we’re going to get caught out here, Charlotte.” Benjamin huddled in the darkness beside me.

“We’re not going to get caught.” I scanned the docks. Empty of people, but full of beautiful boats. “And so what if we do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Benjamin said. “By the time your father gets back, too much time will have gone by for him to punish you. Me? I have to go home where my father will enjoy giving me a good whipping.”

“You’ve been afraid of a good whipping since you were seven,” I said. “You’re sixteen now. Have you gotten whipped yet?”

“Well… no.” He fiddled with the buckle on his boot. “But it’s coming. I can feel it.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re taller and healthier than your father. He can’t whip you. Besides, Lady Elizabeth would punish me if we got caught. Which we won’t.”

I motioned for him to step up onto the dock behind me. He did so because he always did what I wanted. That was why he was my best friend.

“Lady Elizabeth won’t whip you,” he said.

“No, she’ll sit me down and remind me how a proper young lady is supposed to behave.”

I scurried to the end of the dock, and Benjamin followed behind me like a silent shadow.

“How many times has she done that now?” He poked my shoulder.

I had to smile at the playful smirk on his face.

“I can’t seem to get the hang of proper young lady etiquette.” I shrugged. “She probably wouldn’t let me see you anymore either, if we got caught.”

“How come?” Benjamin’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“Well, I’d undoubtedly blame you for dragging me out here.”

His mouth dropped open now. “Me dragging you? I don’t think so, missy.” He nudged my shoulder then grew serious. “You don’t think she’d stop us from being friends, do you?”

“She couldn’t stop us, Benjamin. Don’t worry.” He was always worried about something. “Come on. This is the one.”   

I led him to the smallest sloop tethered to the end of the dock. The vessels around us bobbed up and down against their lines like prisoners eager to break free of their bonds. Wanderers longing to drift wherever the sea might carry them.

Cloaked by the night, we climbed up the rickety ladder at the stern and boarded the boat. We crept to the bow, a faint sea breeze awakening my senses.

When we reached the front of the ship, I clasped the railing, its splintered wood rough but welcome against my palms. I was aware of Benjamin standing beside me. He was a good sport about all this sneaking around.

“There it is.” I traced the moonlit horizon that kissed the ocean’s silvery surface. The scent of sea salt and sun-baked wood danced around me. The gentle sway of the ship soothed my restlessness.

“I don’t know why you like coming out here so much, Charlotte. It’s just water. A great deal of it.” Benjamin turned around, his back to the sea, and leaned against the railing on his elbows. He didn’t hear the call. Didn’t feel the pull. Didn’t wonder what was at that distant and mysterious line between sky and sea.

Not like I did.

“It’s getting to the other side of the water, Benjamin, and seeing what’s there that’s important.”

“What do you think is on the other side that you don’t have here?”

“Something… everything.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in the sea’s fragrance until all that water whispered inside me.

“You don’t know how to be happy with what you’ve got,” Benjamin said. The moonlight illuminated his face as he looked at me.  

“What have I got, Benjamin? Tell me. My father and brothers are off sailing while I’m left here serving Lady Elizabeth. What have I got?”

He was about to answer, but other voices stirred below decks as footsteps knocked on the ladder amidships. A faint lantern glow built in intensity as the footsteps grew louder.

“Don’t move.” Benjamin slipped in front of me, shielding me from whatever was headed up the ladder. I pushed him out of the way, but he stood more solidly than usual. “Charlotte, please. You can get mad at me for trying to protect you later.”

In all our times coming out to the docks at night—and there had been many—we had never gotten caught. I had stolen a couple of precious moments, dreaming on the bows of various ships, imagining the day I’d actually set sail aboard one of these marvelous, canvas-winged seabirds. Benjamin had accompanied me most of the time, allowing me to chase my dreams, but trying to tether me to the land at the same time.

Now we were steps away from being found by the rousing crew of this particular vessel. The lantern light swept across us, and I caught a flicker in the eyes of our discoverers.

“You there.” The gruff voice was enough to tell me we didn’t want to tangle with its owner.

“A pretty treasure, Arthur, eh?” another voice rasped as the lantern light grew closer. “We’ll have to do something with the boy.”

I grabbed Benjamin’s wrist and hopped up onto the bow rail. He climbed up behind me.

“What are we doing?” His grip tightened on my hand.

“Hold your breath!”

“No!” the voices bellowed together behind us.

“Charlotte… I can’t—”

“Jump!”

I leaped off the rail, pulling Benjamin with me. We swooped down to the water, the men cursing from the deck above me and Benjamin howling beside me. When I hit the water and slipped below its surface, all sound was replaced with the rippling melody of the ocean.

With powerful strokes, I towed Benjamin to the shoreline and pulled him up onto the sand. He coughed and sputtered for some time before raking his shaky fingers through his tangled, brown hair. He rose to his feet, wrung out his soaked tunic, and glared at me with fiery green eyes.

“Charlotte Denham, if you ever do that again, we’re through. You know I can’t swim.” Water ran down his face in rivulets. He spun on his heel and stomped away.

“Cripes, Benjamin, I saved us,” I called to his retreating back.

“Saved us? You could have killed us!” He marched over the sand. His hands flapped out to either side of him as he ranted to himself.

I sat and drew wavy lines in the sand with my finger. As far as I was concerned that jump into the water had rescued us from an inevitably unpleasant situation. Who knows what those men would have done to us if they’d caught us?

           The night breeze coming off the water raised goosebumps on my wet skin, and my heart was still pounding from the moment of fear, the glorious swim, the excitement of being this close to the ocean. This close to my dreams.

 
I don’t know about anyone else, but I want to go for a sail now! If you haven’t already gotten your hands on RUN WITH ME, the first Discovery Series book, grab a copy today. Explore my characters that have a little something…extra.
 

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com Adult Romance
www.christymajor.weebly.com YA Romance

Saturday, November 2, 2013

The Truth about the Puritans by Jannine Gallant

Here's a question for all you historical authors out there. Do publishers really want the truth and nothing but the truth, or do they want a prettied up version of the facts? Do readers really want new time periods to explore, or do they prefer to stick to traditional eras?



We're sharing a bit of history this month, so I thought I'd slide in a few little known facts about the Puritans. Yep, I said the Puritans. I stepped out on a long, skinny, rickety limb and wrote a whole book about this less than glamorous era in our history. But you may be surprised by a few of these Puritan facts.

1) Puritans had celebrations and festivals but they didn't celebrate Christmas or Easter.

2) Singing and story telling was allowed--but no hymns in church. Too distracting.

3) Children were allowed to play games.

4) Puritans did not dress in all black.

5) Beer and wine were commonly consumed.

6) Puritans (including women who were definitely second class citizens) were well-educated. Towns of 50 or more families were required to have a public school.

7) The common welfare of the community was put ahead of self-interest. Unemployment was virtually unheard of.

Don't ask me why, but I took an in-depth class about Puritanism in college. When I decided to write my first historical novel way back when, I naturally turned to an era with which I was familiar. Shockingly, editors are resistant to this less than romantic time in our history. And they have some definite preconceived notions about the period. An Uncertain Destiny bristles with reality instead of an inaccurate movie version of the truth. As a result, my agent isn't finding it an easy sell. (Yes, I rewrote the whole thing, so I'm pretty positive the rejections aren't because the writing sucks!)



I thought the mystery and tragedy of the Salem witch trials would sell my book. Am I the only one fascinated by this creepy time in our history? Let's hope not! In the meantime, I'll patiently wait for an editor willing to take a gigantic step outside the box.

So, what's your favorite era in history? Do share.

You can find buy links and info on my currently published books on my website. I'll keep my fingers crossed that An Uncertain Destiny is prominently featured there sometime soon!

Friday, November 1, 2013

THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME by Rolynn Anderson


By the time you read this blog entry, I’ll be a week into my recovery after bilateral knee replacement.  I’m writing this the day before my surgery, thinking that what I say to you today could be true a week from now…or not!  My assumptions”

1.  I’ll miss my real knees
2.  The road to recovery will be tough
3.  My husband, my coach, will face HUGE challenges working with me
4.  Drugs: I’ll grow dependent on them
5.  I’ll never get my golf game back

The thing is, I’m having this surgery about two years before I actually need it.  But my research says that timing is important…I don’t want to ruin my legs' gait/alignment before I have the surgery.  I’m reminded of women who have their breasts removed before inevitable symptoms appear.  That’s me.  I KNOW I have osteo-arthritis in my knees.  I KNOW I’m bone-on-bone, but the pain so far is a tiredness and slowness, not so much abject pain.

So, by the time this blog comes out, on November 1, I hope I’m wrong about all my five suppositions.  Stay tuned and I’ll give you the FIRST WEEK report. 

 SUSPENSE SPIKED WITH ROMANCE 
LAST RESORT * FADEOUT * SWOON
FADEOUT won a RONE award!  LIE CATCHERS coming soon!
Web: http://www.rolynnanderson.com