Marcia Calhoun Forecki's Blog, page 2
January 7, 2014
Creating Memorable Characters
If I have any strength as a writer, it is to create vivid and interesting characters. So I have been told. It may be true, since characters are the beginning of any work of fiction I undertake. When the main character acquires a name and a voice, the story begins and it unfolds as the character goes through the various activities and obstacles that I lay out for him or her. In my latest book, The Road to Liberty, a secondary character named George Fallon began as only a necessary agent of a needed action. But, I as I listened to George struggle with English, paid attention to his youthful wisdom and his enthusiasm, I fell in love with him. George had to become more than a means to an end, and the main character fell in deeply in love with him, too.
Hemmingway said …..
I think that being the middle child from parents who did not like each other very well gave me the position from which to see them both as multi-faceted people. I often adopted the role of buffer between them, and both confided their complaints of the other to me at much too early an age to receive such information, one parent decidedly more than the other. I saw both sides of the argument and how often they were both stubborn or prejudiced or refused to see another point of view. I did not arbitrate. That would have been beyond my childish powers. But, I did have an opinion about the arguments or complaints I was privy to. I suppose I empathized with both of them, and yet I was also frustrated that their broken relationship caused my siblings and I so much unhappiness and fear. There being three of us, we wondered how we might be divided if our parents divorced, and the division was never what we wanted. I sometimes thought I would go with dad because someone should.
Look at the people in your life, away from your emotions, and see who they are, strong and weak, stubborn and afraid. This is the best school for any writer to learn to create characters who live long in the imagination of both the writer and the reader.
Blood of the White Bear
Hemmingway said …..
Then get in somebody else’s head for a change. If I bawl you out try to figure what I’m thinking about as well as how you feel about it. If Carlos curses Juan think what both their sides of it are. Don’t just think who is right. As a man things are as they should or shouldn’t be. As a man you know who is right and who is wrong. You have to make decisions and enforce them. As a writer you should not judge. You should understand. (Hemingway on Writing, Larry W. Phillips, Ed., 1999.)
I think that being the middle child from parents who did not like each other very well gave me the position from which to see them both as multi-faceted people. I often adopted the role of buffer between them, and both confided their complaints of the other to me at much too early an age to receive such information, one parent decidedly more than the other. I saw both sides of the argument and how often they were both stubborn or prejudiced or refused to see another point of view. I did not arbitrate. That would have been beyond my childish powers. But, I did have an opinion about the arguments or complaints I was privy to. I suppose I empathized with both of them, and yet I was also frustrated that their broken relationship caused my siblings and I so much unhappiness and fear. There being three of us, we wondered how we might be divided if our parents divorced, and the division was never what we wanted. I sometimes thought I would go with dad because someone should.
Look at the people in your life, away from your emotions, and see who they are, strong and weak, stubborn and afraid. This is the best school for any writer to learn to create characters who live long in the imagination of both the writer and the reader.
Blood of the White Bear
December 1, 2013
Character Interview: Eva Yellow Horn
Eva Yellow Horn is a character in the novel Blood of the White Bear by Marcia Calhoun Forecki and Gerald Schnitzer. This is a virtual interview.
Eva is a member of the Dine’ nation and has lived all of her life in the Four Corners of the Southwestern United States. She is a mother and a healer, a sand painter, and respected for her experience and wisdom.
Some people might call you a radical. How do you feel about that sobriquet?
Do you think I don’t know that word? I know I have been labeled radical. I was at Wounded Knee. That experience should have radicalized a few more, in my opinion.
You are a very important character in this book. Among other things, you saved Dr. Rachel Bisette’s life.
As a little one she came to me from the sky. Descended into the canyon in a flying airplane. I ran to her and pulled her out. Any human being would do the same for a child.
You put Rachel back in the plane to be discovered by the rescuers and then disappeared. Why not stick around, make sure the rescuers found her?
My eyes never left her. I watched the rescue helicopter come down. If they had not found her quick enough, or tried to leave without her, I would have shown myself. She was in no danger after the fire was out. She went home to her own people where she was loved. Her uncle and aunt were good people.
You lost a friend in that plane crash, Rachel’s father?
I knew her father. He was a kind man and he told the truth.
How did you know him?
He came to the Four Corners every summer to study. He knew lots of the Dine’ in the canyons and around here. He knew about Church Rock. He tried to tell the story of what happened there, what happened to the people exposed to the radioactive spill from the collapsed dam at the uranium mine. Albert Bisette tried to tell the story of the contamination of the Rio Puerco and the land it runs through. Why do you think his plane fell out of the sky? You’ve heard about Chernobyl? Well, the release of radioactive contamination at Church Rock was the second biggest release after Chernobyl. Now, we have Fukushima. People never learn.
Let’s talk about the pandemic in the book. Do you feel responsible for setting the hantavirus loose that eventually killed so many people?
The original virus, before it mutated, was in my pots, but I didn’t know it was there. Still, the first victims were infected from sand I used in sand paintings. I mourn all the lives lost, even those lost later after the virus mutated into something different that what was in my pots.
In the beginning, the fatality rate of the virus was 100%. Yet, you never even got sick and you were with all of the first victims. You must have suspected you were somehow the source of the infection.
I thought so at first. I suspected the virus came from some ancient pots I used to hold the sand I used for sand paintings. Then, people got sick from each other. It was out of my hands.
Why didn’t you come forward? Why did Dr. Bisette have to search for you?
I knew what was going on, but I believed, I still believe, my immunity was not biology, but spiritual. I didn’t think I could change anything after he virus mutated and took its own path. I prayed and asked the ancestors to refrain from taking all the sick people. Ironic, isn’t it, after all the diseases the whites set loose upon us.
Dr. Bisette says she was led to the Four Corners by the spirit of a kachina, the White Bear Kachina to be exact.
Yes, I think this is so. There are many kachina spirits. One of them saw the death coming and brought the only person who could make the antibodies to the mutated virus. That was Dr. Bisette, so yes they had to bring her.
Didn’t you have the antibodies?
I had different immunity. Rachel had what protection I could give her when she was with me as a child. But, she had to make the antibodies herself. I rescued Rachel, but she had to rescue the people from the pandemic. The Kachina spirit led us both to find what we needed to find. I was just the way-maker. I helped make the path for Rachel but she had to take her own journey.
How about telling your story? You were at Wounded Knee. You’ve lived through the Church Rock contamination, and so much more. You have a lot to teach.
I share my stories with those I care about. Read the book and you’ll know enough about me.
Thank you.
Blood of the White Bear
Eva is a member of the Dine’ nation and has lived all of her life in the Four Corners of the Southwestern United States. She is a mother and a healer, a sand painter, and respected for her experience and wisdom.
Some people might call you a radical. How do you feel about that sobriquet?
Do you think I don’t know that word? I know I have been labeled radical. I was at Wounded Knee. That experience should have radicalized a few more, in my opinion.
You are a very important character in this book. Among other things, you saved Dr. Rachel Bisette’s life.
As a little one she came to me from the sky. Descended into the canyon in a flying airplane. I ran to her and pulled her out. Any human being would do the same for a child.
You put Rachel back in the plane to be discovered by the rescuers and then disappeared. Why not stick around, make sure the rescuers found her?
My eyes never left her. I watched the rescue helicopter come down. If they had not found her quick enough, or tried to leave without her, I would have shown myself. She was in no danger after the fire was out. She went home to her own people where she was loved. Her uncle and aunt were good people.
You lost a friend in that plane crash, Rachel’s father?
I knew her father. He was a kind man and he told the truth.
How did you know him?
He came to the Four Corners every summer to study. He knew lots of the Dine’ in the canyons and around here. He knew about Church Rock. He tried to tell the story of what happened there, what happened to the people exposed to the radioactive spill from the collapsed dam at the uranium mine. Albert Bisette tried to tell the story of the contamination of the Rio Puerco and the land it runs through. Why do you think his plane fell out of the sky? You’ve heard about Chernobyl? Well, the release of radioactive contamination at Church Rock was the second biggest release after Chernobyl. Now, we have Fukushima. People never learn.
Let’s talk about the pandemic in the book. Do you feel responsible for setting the hantavirus loose that eventually killed so many people?
The original virus, before it mutated, was in my pots, but I didn’t know it was there. Still, the first victims were infected from sand I used in sand paintings. I mourn all the lives lost, even those lost later after the virus mutated into something different that what was in my pots.
In the beginning, the fatality rate of the virus was 100%. Yet, you never even got sick and you were with all of the first victims. You must have suspected you were somehow the source of the infection.
I thought so at first. I suspected the virus came from some ancient pots I used to hold the sand I used for sand paintings. Then, people got sick from each other. It was out of my hands.
Why didn’t you come forward? Why did Dr. Bisette have to search for you?
I knew what was going on, but I believed, I still believe, my immunity was not biology, but spiritual. I didn’t think I could change anything after he virus mutated and took its own path. I prayed and asked the ancestors to refrain from taking all the sick people. Ironic, isn’t it, after all the diseases the whites set loose upon us.
Dr. Bisette says she was led to the Four Corners by the spirit of a kachina, the White Bear Kachina to be exact.
Yes, I think this is so. There are many kachina spirits. One of them saw the death coming and brought the only person who could make the antibodies to the mutated virus. That was Dr. Bisette, so yes they had to bring her.
Didn’t you have the antibodies?
I had different immunity. Rachel had what protection I could give her when she was with me as a child. But, she had to make the antibodies herself. I rescued Rachel, but she had to rescue the people from the pandemic. The Kachina spirit led us both to find what we needed to find. I was just the way-maker. I helped make the path for Rachel but she had to take her own journey.
How about telling your story? You were at Wounded Knee. You’ve lived through the Church Rock contamination, and so much more. You have a lot to teach.
I share my stories with those I care about. Read the book and you’ll know enough about me.
Thank you.
Blood of the White Bear
November 1, 2013
Free story - no kidding
Here is the link to a story I recently published on Copperfield Review. It was originally published in Fine Lines literary journal. Enjoy!
"Letters From the Front"
"Letters From the Front"
September 27, 2013
Physical books may not be an endangered species.
I had the great pleasure of attending the South Dakota Festival of Books in Deadwood last week. What beautiful country and great people. The S.D. festival alternates each year between Deadwood and Sioux Falls, both great venues. The festival is huge and brilliantly organized and run. I don't know of any hitches or glitches, certainly not in any of the sessions I attended or in the exhibitor's area where I spent a lot of quality time with my publisher, Write Life Publishing, its managing director, Cindy Grady, and its in-house agent and editor, Erin Reel. Two terrific ladies and the best roommates I've had since I started living alone.
I'm still sorting through everything I heard and saw, but a post I came across on the internet today reminded me of a panel discussion at the festival about the future of publishing. The post was from John Biggs at Tech Crunch, and noted that since about 2005, the number of independent book stores has actually increased. Prior to 2005, indie bookstores were closing at an alarming rate. Now, the number of bookstores is showing positive growth. The data cited in the blog came from the American Booksellers Association.
In the panel discussion I attended, author Marilyn Johnson referred to a "seamless" reading experience of moving between reading online over breakfast, then listening to an audiobook in the car on the way to work, and settling down to the paper version in the evening. It occurred to me as I heard this that a person would have to buy three versions of the same book. As a writer, I thought OMG, but as a reader and purchaser of used books, I thought WTF. Who can afford three versions of one book?
Michael Dirda was also a member of the panel. Disclosure: he is one of my personal heroes, having following his criticism for at least fifteen years, now. Mr. Dirda noted the personal connection the reader has with a physical book. The reader can make personal notes in the book, it sits in her home and becomes part of her life, it can be shared by other readers, and it can be read in natural light without the need for electricity or batteries.
The physical book is not dead, and is actually in pretty good health from what I can see. I have several friends who have purchased and then abandoned e-readers for various reasons, myself included. I don't say I'll never read another book in digital format, but nothing beats exploring the nooks and crannies of an physical book store, new or used, and finding just the perfect book that you never heard of, by an author you did not know existed, and would probably never have found in a digital word search online.
To misquote Mark Twain, the news of the demise of the physical book has been greatly exaggerated.
I'm still sorting through everything I heard and saw, but a post I came across on the internet today reminded me of a panel discussion at the festival about the future of publishing. The post was from John Biggs at Tech Crunch, and noted that since about 2005, the number of independent book stores has actually increased. Prior to 2005, indie bookstores were closing at an alarming rate. Now, the number of bookstores is showing positive growth. The data cited in the blog came from the American Booksellers Association.
In the panel discussion I attended, author Marilyn Johnson referred to a "seamless" reading experience of moving between reading online over breakfast, then listening to an audiobook in the car on the way to work, and settling down to the paper version in the evening. It occurred to me as I heard this that a person would have to buy three versions of the same book. As a writer, I thought OMG, but as a reader and purchaser of used books, I thought WTF. Who can afford three versions of one book?
Michael Dirda was also a member of the panel. Disclosure: he is one of my personal heroes, having following his criticism for at least fifteen years, now. Mr. Dirda noted the personal connection the reader has with a physical book. The reader can make personal notes in the book, it sits in her home and becomes part of her life, it can be shared by other readers, and it can be read in natural light without the need for electricity or batteries.
The physical book is not dead, and is actually in pretty good health from what I can see. I have several friends who have purchased and then abandoned e-readers for various reasons, myself included. I don't say I'll never read another book in digital format, but nothing beats exploring the nooks and crannies of an physical book store, new or used, and finding just the perfect book that you never heard of, by an author you did not know existed, and would probably never have found in a digital word search online.
To misquote Mark Twain, the news of the demise of the physical book has been greatly exaggerated.
September 10, 2013
Interview of Dr. Rachel Bisette
(Dr. Rachel Bisette is a virologist and the main character in a new medical thriller, Blood of the White Bear, by Marcia Calhoun Forecki and Gerald Schnitzer. This virtual interview took place in the imagination of the authors.)
Dr. Bisette, full disclosure - you are a character in a book, correct?
Yes, I am. I never expected to be a character in a work of fiction, but here I am.
And the book is called?
Blood of the White Bear.
Who is the white bear? Is that you?
Oh no. In southwest Native American culture, the white bear is the healer, the nurturer, and the dreamer.
I see. I suppose we learn much more about that in the book, am I correct?
Oh, yes.
Dr. Bisette, you are the virologist who discovered the vaccine against the hantavirus, Sin Nombre 2, during the horrific pandemic that broke out in the Southwest United States and kept the country, and the world really, terrified for weeks. But, let’s go back a bit. Your early work in virology was done in a laboratory in Connecticut, working against a very different disease, isn’t that right?
That’s correct. I was working at Socoro Pharmaceuticals on a vaccine for rheumatoid arthritis. We had done great work on the virus, and were ready to begin clinical trials. Unfortunately, I was taken off the research. There were allegations and the FBI became involved.
Allegations of what nature?
I’m not at liberty to talk about it, ongoing investigation and all that. It’s all in the book, but you can’t hear about it from me.
I guess we’ll have to accept that answer. Tell us about Sin Nombre 2, the pandemic that put nearly a quarter of the United States into quarantine.
The whole Southwest was under quarantine and martial law. Sin Nombre virus, or SNV, is a hantavirus. It is carried by deer mice, and humans who come into contact with an infected animal, its next or its droppings, becomes infected very easily. There have been outbreaks of SNV in the Southwest many times, passed from deer mice to humans. The virus manifests as hantavirus pulmonary syndrome (HPS), which is usually fatal. The most recent outbreak in the Four Corners was in 1993. However, SNV does not pass from human to human. What we were dealing with this time, however, was a mutated form of the virus, which we called SN2. The initial patients were exposed directly to the virus directly from deer mice material, but then the virus mutated and began to spread by human-to-human contact. That was when we knew we had a potential pandemic on our hands, the definition of which is a virulent, highly lethal illness that spreads from human to human.
I was drafted, you might say, although very willingly, by the Centers for Disease Control to go to the University of New Mexico and work on finding a vaccine when the outbreak began. But, I was being pulled to New Mexico when the epidemic first broke out, before we even knew what we had on our hands with Sin Nombre 2.
Can you explain what you mean by that last statement? What was pulling you to the Four Corners?
My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was just a toddler. I was actually with them, the only survivor. I was rescued by someone I only vaguely remembered. I never saw her again and never knew her name. I know it now, of course, it was Eva Yellow Horn. When I arrived in New Mexico, I learned from the public health officials there that Eva Yellow Horn had inadvertently exposed the first patients to the SN2 virus. She did not know it, no one did. But, we had to find her to get to the beginning of the mutation chain if we were to have any hope of developing a vaccine.
But, Eva Yellow Horn was not the pull. No, it was the visions and dreams of the White Bear Kachina that I began seeing in Connecticut.
Visions? You mean, hallucinations?
Possibly, or dreams spilling over into my conscious mind. I consulted a hypnotherapist about it, and was able to remember the woman who rescued me in the plane crash. I don’t think I’m giving away too much of the plot of the book when I say that my Uncle Henry- he and my Aunt Daisy were the ones who raised me after my parents died-never believed that the plane crash was an accident.
Can you tell us more about that?
No. The authors wouldn’t like me giving too much away. But, it’s pretty fascinating and it involves a terrible accident that actually occurred in 1979 at Church Rock, New Mexico and involved the release of an enormous amount of radioactive material onto Native American land. You can look that up.
Eva Yellow Horn, how did you find her?
Once I arrived in the Four Corners, I quickly realized that Eva held the answer, not only to the virus, but to my personal questions about what happened to my parents as well. I can’t take all the credit of course. I had help from John Osborne, an archeologist who knows more about the Four Corners than any non-native, but whom you would not want your daughter to meet. Enough said about that. Ted Fuller put his career on the line to help me elude the FBI, but of course, he’s in love with me. Calvin Yellow Horn was helpful, although he didn’t intend to be. They are only a few of the fascinating people share this book with me.
So, how did you find Eva Yellow Horn? What did she tell you? Did you and Ted Fuller get together in the end?
Sorry, you’ll have to read the book for those answers. Marcia Calhoun Forecki and Gerald Schnitzer tell the whole story. Blood of the White Bear, published by WriteLife, will be available in October 2013.
Dr. Bisette, full disclosure - you are a character in a book, correct?
Yes, I am. I never expected to be a character in a work of fiction, but here I am.
And the book is called?
Blood of the White Bear.
Who is the white bear? Is that you?
Oh no. In southwest Native American culture, the white bear is the healer, the nurturer, and the dreamer.
I see. I suppose we learn much more about that in the book, am I correct?
Oh, yes.
Dr. Bisette, you are the virologist who discovered the vaccine against the hantavirus, Sin Nombre 2, during the horrific pandemic that broke out in the Southwest United States and kept the country, and the world really, terrified for weeks. But, let’s go back a bit. Your early work in virology was done in a laboratory in Connecticut, working against a very different disease, isn’t that right?
That’s correct. I was working at Socoro Pharmaceuticals on a vaccine for rheumatoid arthritis. We had done great work on the virus, and were ready to begin clinical trials. Unfortunately, I was taken off the research. There were allegations and the FBI became involved.
Allegations of what nature?
I’m not at liberty to talk about it, ongoing investigation and all that. It’s all in the book, but you can’t hear about it from me.
I guess we’ll have to accept that answer. Tell us about Sin Nombre 2, the pandemic that put nearly a quarter of the United States into quarantine.
The whole Southwest was under quarantine and martial law. Sin Nombre virus, or SNV, is a hantavirus. It is carried by deer mice, and humans who come into contact with an infected animal, its next or its droppings, becomes infected very easily. There have been outbreaks of SNV in the Southwest many times, passed from deer mice to humans. The virus manifests as hantavirus pulmonary syndrome (HPS), which is usually fatal. The most recent outbreak in the Four Corners was in 1993. However, SNV does not pass from human to human. What we were dealing with this time, however, was a mutated form of the virus, which we called SN2. The initial patients were exposed directly to the virus directly from deer mice material, but then the virus mutated and began to spread by human-to-human contact. That was when we knew we had a potential pandemic on our hands, the definition of which is a virulent, highly lethal illness that spreads from human to human.
I was drafted, you might say, although very willingly, by the Centers for Disease Control to go to the University of New Mexico and work on finding a vaccine when the outbreak began. But, I was being pulled to New Mexico when the epidemic first broke out, before we even knew what we had on our hands with Sin Nombre 2.
Can you explain what you mean by that last statement? What was pulling you to the Four Corners?
My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was just a toddler. I was actually with them, the only survivor. I was rescued by someone I only vaguely remembered. I never saw her again and never knew her name. I know it now, of course, it was Eva Yellow Horn. When I arrived in New Mexico, I learned from the public health officials there that Eva Yellow Horn had inadvertently exposed the first patients to the SN2 virus. She did not know it, no one did. But, we had to find her to get to the beginning of the mutation chain if we were to have any hope of developing a vaccine.
But, Eva Yellow Horn was not the pull. No, it was the visions and dreams of the White Bear Kachina that I began seeing in Connecticut.
Visions? You mean, hallucinations?
Possibly, or dreams spilling over into my conscious mind. I consulted a hypnotherapist about it, and was able to remember the woman who rescued me in the plane crash. I don’t think I’m giving away too much of the plot of the book when I say that my Uncle Henry- he and my Aunt Daisy were the ones who raised me after my parents died-never believed that the plane crash was an accident.
Can you tell us more about that?
No. The authors wouldn’t like me giving too much away. But, it’s pretty fascinating and it involves a terrible accident that actually occurred in 1979 at Church Rock, New Mexico and involved the release of an enormous amount of radioactive material onto Native American land. You can look that up.
Eva Yellow Horn, how did you find her?
Once I arrived in the Four Corners, I quickly realized that Eva held the answer, not only to the virus, but to my personal questions about what happened to my parents as well. I can’t take all the credit of course. I had help from John Osborne, an archeologist who knows more about the Four Corners than any non-native, but whom you would not want your daughter to meet. Enough said about that. Ted Fuller put his career on the line to help me elude the FBI, but of course, he’s in love with me. Calvin Yellow Horn was helpful, although he didn’t intend to be. They are only a few of the fascinating people share this book with me.
So, how did you find Eva Yellow Horn? What did she tell you? Did you and Ted Fuller get together in the end?
Sorry, you’ll have to read the book for those answers. Marcia Calhoun Forecki and Gerald Schnitzer tell the whole story. Blood of the White Bear, published by WriteLife, will be available in October 2013.
July 26, 2013
The story of a blue baby in a red basket
I frequently dream that I am a college student. I am the age I am now (don’t ask), and all the other students are in their late teens and early twenties. I don’t really fit in, but everyone is nice to me. I am seeking another degree, and because I’m willing to pay the full quid, the college lets me attend. I live in a dive apartment and have no other responsibilities but to study and learn. Those were truly the best four years of my life, and I guess I want to relive them, if only in dreams. I had the privilege of attending William Jewell College, in Liberty Missouri.
Recently, I began writing a novel set during the Civil War in western Missouri. I locate my story in Clay County, and the town of Liberty is an important part of the book’s setting. My novel tells the story of a girl found floating in a red basket in Shoal Creek about 1840. She is so cold that she is blue, and is given the nickname Bluesey. She grows up during the era of Bleeding Kansas, goes through the Civil War, and eventually sets out to homestead in the Dakota territory with an emancipated slave woman from her cousin’s plantation in Missouri’s Little Dixie.
For those who did not have the privilege of growing up in or near Kansas City, Missouri, let me tell you a little something about where my roots are planted.
William Jewell College was founded in 1849, by three Missouri Baptists: Colonel Alexander Doniphan, Dr. William Jewell and Robert S. James. Missourians know that Rev. James was the father of Frank and Jesse. Rev. James left Missouri before the college opened, traveling to the California for the gold rush where it is believed he died of cholera. Maybe if he had remained in Missouri, the boys might have behaved better, but who can really say.
In September 1861, an early Confederate victory was achieved at Blue Mills Landing, near Liberty. Buildings at William Jewell College were used as a hospital and as a stable during and after the battle. Several graves of soldiers lost in the fighting are located on the campus grounds.
During the war, Jesse and Frank James and many other southern sympathizers in the western part of the state fought cruel guerilla battles with other Missourians and with residents and supporters of the free state of Kansas. After the war, the James brothers and a few other of these “partisan rangers” continued their scofflaw activities against civilian enterprises: banks, railroads and the Pinkertons. The first peacetime bank robbery committed by the James Gang was in February 1866. They relieved the Clay County Savings Bank located then (and now) on the square in Liberty, of about $60,000. As they left the bank, shooting ensued and one bystander was killed. His name was George Wymore, known to his friends as Jolly, and he was a student at William Jewell College.
I believe it was Shelby Foote who said that if you want to know about America, you have to study the Civil War. I am having a great time doing the research for this book, and am so grateful for all the online resources, especially from historical societies. One of my research sources is an excellent book about the events in Cass County called Caught Between Three Fires by Tom A. Rafiner. It’s very detailed, and I recommend it highly. I also recommend Adam Goodheart’s 1861, The Civil War Awakening, and the great classic, Battle Cry of Freedom by James McPherson. In Lee’s Summit, Missouri, there is a wonderful living history park called Old Missouri Town 1855. If you are going to K.C. for baseball or Worlds of Fun, do your mind a favor and check out this great historical recreation.
I hope to have the first draft of my novel set in the Civil War novel finished by the end of 2013. I plan to keep my readers posted on my progress. I don’t have a title for the book yet, so if anyone would like to offer a suggestion, I will be pleased to give you credit.
Recently, I began writing a novel set during the Civil War in western Missouri. I locate my story in Clay County, and the town of Liberty is an important part of the book’s setting. My novel tells the story of a girl found floating in a red basket in Shoal Creek about 1840. She is so cold that she is blue, and is given the nickname Bluesey. She grows up during the era of Bleeding Kansas, goes through the Civil War, and eventually sets out to homestead in the Dakota territory with an emancipated slave woman from her cousin’s plantation in Missouri’s Little Dixie.
For those who did not have the privilege of growing up in or near Kansas City, Missouri, let me tell you a little something about where my roots are planted.
William Jewell College was founded in 1849, by three Missouri Baptists: Colonel Alexander Doniphan, Dr. William Jewell and Robert S. James. Missourians know that Rev. James was the father of Frank and Jesse. Rev. James left Missouri before the college opened, traveling to the California for the gold rush where it is believed he died of cholera. Maybe if he had remained in Missouri, the boys might have behaved better, but who can really say.
In September 1861, an early Confederate victory was achieved at Blue Mills Landing, near Liberty. Buildings at William Jewell College were used as a hospital and as a stable during and after the battle. Several graves of soldiers lost in the fighting are located on the campus grounds.
During the war, Jesse and Frank James and many other southern sympathizers in the western part of the state fought cruel guerilla battles with other Missourians and with residents and supporters of the free state of Kansas. After the war, the James brothers and a few other of these “partisan rangers” continued their scofflaw activities against civilian enterprises: banks, railroads and the Pinkertons. The first peacetime bank robbery committed by the James Gang was in February 1866. They relieved the Clay County Savings Bank located then (and now) on the square in Liberty, of about $60,000. As they left the bank, shooting ensued and one bystander was killed. His name was George Wymore, known to his friends as Jolly, and he was a student at William Jewell College.
I believe it was Shelby Foote who said that if you want to know about America, you have to study the Civil War. I am having a great time doing the research for this book, and am so grateful for all the online resources, especially from historical societies. One of my research sources is an excellent book about the events in Cass County called Caught Between Three Fires by Tom A. Rafiner. It’s very detailed, and I recommend it highly. I also recommend Adam Goodheart’s 1861, The Civil War Awakening, and the great classic, Battle Cry of Freedom by James McPherson. In Lee’s Summit, Missouri, there is a wonderful living history park called Old Missouri Town 1855. If you are going to K.C. for baseball or Worlds of Fun, do your mind a favor and check out this great historical recreation.
I hope to have the first draft of my novel set in the Civil War novel finished by the end of 2013. I plan to keep my readers posted on my progress. I don’t have a title for the book yet, so if anyone would like to offer a suggestion, I will be pleased to give you credit.
July 13, 2013
Gift of the Macaroni (With apologies to O. Henry)
The supplies for Friday's craft project were laid out in the middle of the table. Sweaty children sat around the table in the church basement, their hair sticking to their foreheads and the backs of their necks. Oscillating fans perched in the deep window sills moved the air above their bobbing heads.
"Today we are going to make necklaces for your mothers. So, listen carefully to the instructions because you want your necklace to be extra special."
The instructions were fairly straightforward. The macaroni had been painted with gold spray paint, and was arranged by shape on paper plates in the middle of the table. Each child was given a smaller paper plate, and told to select pieces of macaroni for stringing onto a piece of yarn. To make the necklaces even more special, the children could glue on sequins or glitter to the macaroni pieces before stringing them onto pieces of gold colored yarn.
"Do not use the glue without asking for help first."
When the instructions ended, the scene was a dozen or more arms like the tentacles of small octupi thrusting and flailing toward the center of the table. My sister sat at one end of the table, and I at the other. We were ages nine and seven, respectively, and our week at Vacation Bible School was nearly over. The elementary school children attended separate classes for the Bible lesson, but came together for crafts and snacks. On Monday, we had been assigned to separate ends of the table due to a kicking match when cookies were served and I took the last snickerdoodle on the plate. That crumbly cinnamon cookie was not my favorite, but since Sue always chose it when she could, I grabbed it first.
I looked at the gold macaroni on the plate before me. How to string it? Two diatoni and one rigatoni, or alternate diatoni with gomiti? The boy next to me was assisted by a volunteer from the teen class to roll his rigatoni in glue and then in purple glitter. The effect was good texturally, but he overused the glue and it dripped onto his fingers, which he immediately licked and declared it delicious.
I tried to see what Sue was creating at the other end of the table, but between the flailing arms and Johnny G. standing on his chair to get some air from the fan, my view was blocked. When craft time was over, we wrapped our necklaces in tissue paper and lined up to sing one final song.
My necklace was gold diatoni on a green yarn. I used green glitter, but got bored and forwent the sequins. Sue used a gradation of sizes of gomiti, alternating with the pinwheel ruste, through which she threaded her purple yarn to form a little flower. She glued a red sequin in the middle of each pinwheel, and combined red and purple glitter for the gomiti. It was lovely.
"They are both so beautiful," Mom said, "and I'm going to wear them both this Sunday to church." Looking back, I'm sure she realized there would be several other mothers wearing this pasta jewelry, which would surely serve to lessen her embarrassment. Why did she say my necklace was beautiful when I threw it together so I could get away from the table and play the piano? Mine was a mess, but she praised it as much as my sister's masterpiece?
That week, our Sunday School lesson was Cain and Abel.
I recalled the macaroni necklaces my sister and I had given to our long-suffering mother. Mine was not very good, but it was the best I could do considering the heat in the room, the distraction of the piano, and my indifference to crafts generally. God told Cain that his gift was lousy. If Mom had said that my necklace was a mess, I would have been pretty wroth and I know my countenance would have fallen. I probably would have pounded my sister later on. So, why didn’t God praise both Cain and Abel equally, as my mother had so wisely done with my sister and me? (That question is rhetorical.)
I’m certain that my mother is in heaven, if there is one. I hope she talks to God and instructs him that he should have understood that Cain was doing the best he could. Abel was probably a show-off, anyway. I can just hear her telling God, “So you see, if you don’t treat children fairly, someone is sure to get pounded. Remember, sometimes being a good parent means wearing a crappy macaroni necklace.”
Rigatoni (scored tubes)
Ruste (cartwheels)
Diatoni (fat short tubes)
Gomiti (small curved tubes)
Marcia Calhoun Forecki
"Today we are going to make necklaces for your mothers. So, listen carefully to the instructions because you want your necklace to be extra special."
The instructions were fairly straightforward. The macaroni had been painted with gold spray paint, and was arranged by shape on paper plates in the middle of the table. Each child was given a smaller paper plate, and told to select pieces of macaroni for stringing onto a piece of yarn. To make the necklaces even more special, the children could glue on sequins or glitter to the macaroni pieces before stringing them onto pieces of gold colored yarn.
"Do not use the glue without asking for help first."
When the instructions ended, the scene was a dozen or more arms like the tentacles of small octupi thrusting and flailing toward the center of the table. My sister sat at one end of the table, and I at the other. We were ages nine and seven, respectively, and our week at Vacation Bible School was nearly over. The elementary school children attended separate classes for the Bible lesson, but came together for crafts and snacks. On Monday, we had been assigned to separate ends of the table due to a kicking match when cookies were served and I took the last snickerdoodle on the plate. That crumbly cinnamon cookie was not my favorite, but since Sue always chose it when she could, I grabbed it first.
I looked at the gold macaroni on the plate before me. How to string it? Two diatoni and one rigatoni, or alternate diatoni with gomiti? The boy next to me was assisted by a volunteer from the teen class to roll his rigatoni in glue and then in purple glitter. The effect was good texturally, but he overused the glue and it dripped onto his fingers, which he immediately licked and declared it delicious.
I tried to see what Sue was creating at the other end of the table, but between the flailing arms and Johnny G. standing on his chair to get some air from the fan, my view was blocked. When craft time was over, we wrapped our necklaces in tissue paper and lined up to sing one final song.
My necklace was gold diatoni on a green yarn. I used green glitter, but got bored and forwent the sequins. Sue used a gradation of sizes of gomiti, alternating with the pinwheel ruste, through which she threaded her purple yarn to form a little flower. She glued a red sequin in the middle of each pinwheel, and combined red and purple glitter for the gomiti. It was lovely.
"They are both so beautiful," Mom said, "and I'm going to wear them both this Sunday to church." Looking back, I'm sure she realized there would be several other mothers wearing this pasta jewelry, which would surely serve to lessen her embarrassment. Why did she say my necklace was beautiful when I threw it together so I could get away from the table and play the piano? Mine was a mess, but she praised it as much as my sister's masterpiece?
That week, our Sunday School lesson was Cain and Abel.
And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the LORD. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering: but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. Genesis 4:2-5
I recalled the macaroni necklaces my sister and I had given to our long-suffering mother. Mine was not very good, but it was the best I could do considering the heat in the room, the distraction of the piano, and my indifference to crafts generally. God told Cain that his gift was lousy. If Mom had said that my necklace was a mess, I would have been pretty wroth and I know my countenance would have fallen. I probably would have pounded my sister later on. So, why didn’t God praise both Cain and Abel equally, as my mother had so wisely done with my sister and me? (That question is rhetorical.)
I’m certain that my mother is in heaven, if there is one. I hope she talks to God and instructs him that he should have understood that Cain was doing the best he could. Abel was probably a show-off, anyway. I can just hear her telling God, “So you see, if you don’t treat children fairly, someone is sure to get pounded. Remember, sometimes being a good parent means wearing a crappy macaroni necklace.”
Rigatoni (scored tubes)
Ruste (cartwheels)
Diatoni (fat short tubes)
Gomiti (small curved tubes)
Marcia Calhoun Forecki
July 9, 2013
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June 21, 2013
Farewell James Gandolfini
We have all read articles, perhaps numerous articles, about the amazing talent of the late James Gandolfini in portraying Tony Soprano. I concur completely that he created an extraordinary characterization, and taking nothing away from the actor, I have would point out that Tony Soprano existed first on paper before he was brought to life by Mr. Gandolfini. There is much for both writers and actors to learn from David Chase as well as James Gandolfini in how to create complex, fascinating characters, and I would like to quote from Willa Paskin's article of June 20, 2013 from Salon.com that Tony Soprano was "simultaneously charismatic and menacing, threatening and charming, winning and terrifying." Tony was "scary and pained, hulking and sometimes shockingly lithe, so brutal but so funny." I may never create a character as striking and memorable as Tony Soprano, but that such a character can be created gives me another answer to the question, "Why do I write?"
May 16, 2013
Truer than if it really happened
All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you; the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. -- Ernest Hemingway, Esquire, December 1934
As is often the case with books I review, I came to A Stranger in the Kingdom by Howard Frank Mosher long after its publication. The book came out in 1989, and the independent film version by Jay Craven was released in 1998. That's the price I pay for buying used books, and it's a very reasonable price in every way. I've never been a latest-and-greatest reader; I'm still catching up on all the classics I either missed in school or didn't understand because they were assigned to me long before I had the maturity to understand them.
Here is the synopsis from Mosher's web site: "A Stranger in the Kingdom tells the unforgettable story of a brutal murder in a small town and the devastating events that follow. The town’s new preacher, a black man, finds himself on trial more for who he is than for what he might have done in this powerful drama of passion, prejudice, and innocence suddenly lost…and perhaps found again."
A Stranger in the Kingdom kept me up late and made me get out of bed early. I used it as an excuse to avoid necessary chores, and I am happy to report I did not die of dirty dishes. Best of all, I discovered a new-to-me writer with a body of work I can dote on for a long time to come. Mosher is a captivating story-teller, that his work delivers hours and hours of enjoyment, and that his Vermont eccentrics and heroes, who are often the same character, will be mine until the day I can no longer remember them. Reading a great book may not be better than everything, just better than anything I can think of at the moment.
A Stranger in the Kingdom
