Brita Addams's Blog, page 6
May 29, 2013
I'm back from England and Tarnished Soul
First, I want to thank everyone who stopped by and commented on my hop post. The winner has been notified!
My husband I got back from England on May 18th and what a trip it was. While we loved everything we saw and did, but the exhaustion was something we hadn't counted on. London is a beast if you want to see all the important historical places, and we did.
Our drive through the countryside was a mixed bag. The difference in driving on the left hand side of the road caused us to be hyper-vigilant and did take away from the enjoyment of it. However, we saw some amazing things, like Shakespeare's birthplace, the Dr. Who Experience in Cardiff, and when we went to Barry Island in Wales, we visited some of the places used in the filming of a really heartwarming series, Gavin and Stacey.
We spent a great time on the Britannia in Edinburgh and it still stays in my memory as one of the most magnificent things we saw.
England has long been on my bucket list and the fact that I shared the experience with my husband, makes this the most wonderful vacation I've ever taken. We immersed ourselves in the history that we've only read about and seen in documentaries and movies.
At St. George's Chapel at Windsor Palace, we walked over the grave of Henry VIII and some say his favorite wife, Jane Seymour. At Kensington Palace, we visited the Queen Victoria exhibit, which traced her life from birth to death, many of those years spent inside that palace. Arguably most famous for housing Princess Diana, I was disappointed to find no exhibit dedicated to her. However, what was there, will stay with me forever. For pictures, take a look at my travelogue.
On the writing front, I have taken about a month off, which included the trip. I am deeply into Tarnished Soul, the second in the Tarnished series, and the story is coming together nicely. This story concerns Owen Wylie, a former policeman in Los Angeles, who goes to work for Starlight Studios as their head of the publicity department.
In the Golden Age of Hollywood, the publicity departments at the studios were the most powerful branch of the system. They were charged with keeping the secrets of the actors, the directors, and all in between. They covered up bad behavior, affairs, drug habits, and an errant baby or two.
The dynamic is very interesting and juxtaposed against today's world, it is a mystery as to how the studios could own the police, newspapers, medical professionals, lawyers, district attorneys, even the spouses and parents of the wayward. Actors became involved in scandals and they rarely suffered the consequences.
I wanted to explore this aspect of Hollywood and in my research, I learned more than I'd expected about the way these things worked. My character, Owen Wylie, is the clean up man at Starlight. He will cross paths with the star of Tarnished Gold, Jack Abadie, and will play a role in some of the events that take place in Tarnished Gold.
The third book in the series, Tarnished Heart, will tackle the unique world of the gossip columnists. They made and broke careers, held public opinion in their hands. If they liked a person, the world was their oyster. If they didn't, God save them. The columnist's poison pen would cast a person in mud or make them stars, talentless or not.
That Hollywood couldn't exist today, but when it did, those at the top were all powerful.
I'm truly enjoying the research on these projects. I've always loved that era and learning more about it has heightened that interest.
I hope to have Tarnished Soul finished by this fall and submitted to Dreamspinner by the time Gay Rom Lit rolls around in October. I expect this to be of a length with Tarnished Gold, which is 106k. There is much story to tell, and I find Owen a particularly compelling character to write.
We are already planning another trip, this one to upstate New York, back home as it were. In July, my favorite uncle celebrates his 80th birthday, and we will be there with him. I couldn't miss that for the world.
Until then, I have my nose to the grindstone and will be working to add significant word count to my next book.
My husband I got back from England on May 18th and what a trip it was. While we loved everything we saw and did, but the exhaustion was something we hadn't counted on. London is a beast if you want to see all the important historical places, and we did.
Our drive through the countryside was a mixed bag. The difference in driving on the left hand side of the road caused us to be hyper-vigilant and did take away from the enjoyment of it. However, we saw some amazing things, like Shakespeare's birthplace, the Dr. Who Experience in Cardiff, and when we went to Barry Island in Wales, we visited some of the places used in the filming of a really heartwarming series, Gavin and Stacey.
We spent a great time on the Britannia in Edinburgh and it still stays in my memory as one of the most magnificent things we saw.
England has long been on my bucket list and the fact that I shared the experience with my husband, makes this the most wonderful vacation I've ever taken. We immersed ourselves in the history that we've only read about and seen in documentaries and movies.
At St. George's Chapel at Windsor Palace, we walked over the grave of Henry VIII and some say his favorite wife, Jane Seymour. At Kensington Palace, we visited the Queen Victoria exhibit, which traced her life from birth to death, many of those years spent inside that palace. Arguably most famous for housing Princess Diana, I was disappointed to find no exhibit dedicated to her. However, what was there, will stay with me forever. For pictures, take a look at my travelogue.
On the writing front, I have taken about a month off, which included the trip. I am deeply into Tarnished Soul, the second in the Tarnished series, and the story is coming together nicely. This story concerns Owen Wylie, a former policeman in Los Angeles, who goes to work for Starlight Studios as their head of the publicity department.
In the Golden Age of Hollywood, the publicity departments at the studios were the most powerful branch of the system. They were charged with keeping the secrets of the actors, the directors, and all in between. They covered up bad behavior, affairs, drug habits, and an errant baby or two.
The dynamic is very interesting and juxtaposed against today's world, it is a mystery as to how the studios could own the police, newspapers, medical professionals, lawyers, district attorneys, even the spouses and parents of the wayward. Actors became involved in scandals and they rarely suffered the consequences.
I wanted to explore this aspect of Hollywood and in my research, I learned more than I'd expected about the way these things worked. My character, Owen Wylie, is the clean up man at Starlight. He will cross paths with the star of Tarnished Gold, Jack Abadie, and will play a role in some of the events that take place in Tarnished Gold.
The third book in the series, Tarnished Heart, will tackle the unique world of the gossip columnists. They made and broke careers, held public opinion in their hands. If they liked a person, the world was their oyster. If they didn't, God save them. The columnist's poison pen would cast a person in mud or make them stars, talentless or not.
That Hollywood couldn't exist today, but when it did, those at the top were all powerful.
I'm truly enjoying the research on these projects. I've always loved that era and learning more about it has heightened that interest.
I hope to have Tarnished Soul finished by this fall and submitted to Dreamspinner by the time Gay Rom Lit rolls around in October. I expect this to be of a length with Tarnished Gold, which is 106k. There is much story to tell, and I find Owen a particularly compelling character to write.
We are already planning another trip, this one to upstate New York, back home as it were. In July, my favorite uncle celebrates his 80th birthday, and we will be there with him. I couldn't miss that for the world.
Until then, I have my nose to the grindstone and will be working to add significant word count to my next book.
May 17, 2013
International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia
Today is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia, and we celebrate the recognition of our friends and relatives.
I am a straight mother and grandmother, who celebrates the lives that relatives and friends live, whether straight, gay, trans*, married, single, black or white. I celebrate people, every day.
From my earliest memories, people have fascinated me, in all their incarnations. Hearts beat in all chests, feelings teem with us all. We suffer broken hearts, experience joy, and possibly the most universal thing of all, we all need and want love and acceptance.
The thought that because someone loves differently than what we are conditioned to believe is the norm, is a ludicrous concept to me. We taught our children to love everyone, for everyone is worthy of love. How does one determine that a particular segment of the human population should not see their lives as God set it before them? Who are the "normal" police?
This point couldn't have been made clearer than when our last child was born. Poor darlin', she was born with a disease that keeps her from bending her arms and legs, makes walking difficult, to say nothing of feeding herself, brushing her teeth and her hair, even typing. We heard the word normal many times during her first few years and I couldn't help but answer with, "She's the most normal Lindsay I know." And she is.
When she was seventeen, she experienced a break-up with a boy she appeared to like. She was bummed, as you might expect, and in a lame attempt to console her, I told her there was another boy out there who would care for her. She cried, but was uncharacteristically quiet. I tried to help, maybe too much, until she looked at me, her lips quivering and her eyes dark. "I'm gay, okay?" she shouted, then waited for me to respond.
I looked at her and I remember being surprised. I had no clue, nothing to look back on and say, "Oh, so that's what was different."
I got up and went and sat by her, took her into my arms, and hugged her for all she was worth. "It is okay," I told her. "As long as you are always my Lindsay."
"I'll always be, but you have to tell Daddy."
He reacted similarly, bless him, he is the sweetest man. He went across the hall, knocked on her bedroom door and when she let him in, he held her and told her how much he loved her. No questions, no trying to change her, just total, unconditional love for the daughter who means the world to us.
After seven years with her girl friend, whom we absolutely adore to this day, they broke up, each marrying a guy who charmed them and who loves them. We love our son in law, who takes care of our girl (I'll personally kick his 6'4" ass if he doesn't,) and who treasures her as we do. She does however, still look at women and make interested comments, and will admit to a bisexual persuasion. She'd never cheat, but she ain't dead and appreciates a fine feminine form.
I have many friends who are gay (as opposed to gay friends.) I love them and treasure their friendship. They live very normal lives - pay the bills, work hard, raise their kids, and enjoy the company of the one person who answers every question in their heart. I have trans* friends and straight friends who do the same. None of us should be defined by the most private parts of ourselves - our sexuality. The concept is strange and completely contrary to the unconditional love by which I live my life.
None, across the board, trades on the fact that they are gay or trans*, but instead, they celebrate the fact that they are alive, well, and able to live life,albeit with restrictions not imposed upon others. If you love, you should be allowed to marry, and enjoy the benefits incumbent upon the institution. To call their partner in life husband or wife. To go through life knowing the joy of security and peace in their choice of mate.
Such a basic concept, and yet, in 2013, we have to ask for acceptance for them, when the world should embrace all who love, with no restrictions and no one's ridiculous notions of normal.
Enjoy the Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia! Make your voices heard.
May 4, 2013
Pictures up on Travelogue page
Check out the pictures on the travelogue page!
April 30, 2013
British Travelogue and Enter the Souvenir Contest
Going to Britain and my picture travelogue
Ready for a contest?
I invite you to travel along with me, by way of my travelogue. I will upload pictures and a video or two onto my travelogue page, as we go from place to place. You'll want to visit every day and leave comments. The more comments you leave, the more chances you have to win.
Here's how it works!
I'll be picking up some neat souvenirs along the way and when I get back, I will award five such neat souvenirs to random commenters on my blog. At the very least, everyone who comments will received a postcard from either England, Scotland, or Wales.
I'll photograph the items and tease everyone with them, one at a time. I like to do that kind of thing. J
Starting May 4th, late in the afternoon Eastern time, I'll put up pictures and will do so everyday, until we come home on the 18th. Believe me, you don't want to miss a single photo. Check out Brita's British Travelogue page. That's where the photos will be.
This is our trip of a lifetime. We've planned and
saved for this adventure, and decided that this year was the time, before more
life interferes with our best laid plans.
If you've read anything I've written, likely you
have hit upon one of my historicals set in England. I love English history, a
love born of many years researching my genealogy, and discovering that on my
mother's side, I am Dutch and English and on my father's side, I am Norwegian
and Irish. In the case of the latter, my father was second generation to this
country. In my mother's case, you have to go back a great many years to find
the immigrants.
My mother's English ancestry goes way back, and
somewhere around Edward II, my husband and I are related. A late friend of mine
once told me that all ancestries lead back to the Plantagenets, and my research
bore that out more than once.
I find the city of London fascinating, from afar,
because of the mixture of very old with very modern. The Tower of London sits
surrounded by ultra modern skyscrapers, with the London Eye not terribly far away. The Tower, words
that, in the days of old, sent gripping fear through every soul in England.
We'll go there to see the Crown Jewels and with luck, catch a tour with one of
the famous Beefeaters.
My husband has planned each day, complete with
printed itineraries and spreadsheets. This so reminds me of our honeymoon in
Hawaii, where every moment was planned to the tee, but we didn't miss a thing.
I teased him then, now, I'm happy for his thoroughness.
Our one concern is driving on the left hand side of
the road. While we won't be driving at all in London, we are taking nearly a
weeklong tour of the countryside, Wales, and Scotland. Once we've done it once,
the fear will dissipate, but it seems daunting at the moment. The roundabouts
are of concern. Those are traffic circles in the U.S.
Anyway, we won't let that get us. We've face worst
things.
Of particular interest to me personally, are the
places I have written about. Desiree Huntington, Prentice Hyde's lady in Lord
Decadent's Obsession, lived on Doughty Street in London. Number 48. We will go
there and photograph the façade. Chancery Lane was the setting for Preston
Meacham's employment service in For Men Like Us. We'll visit Grosvenor Square,
and St. James Square, where Alexander Chilton resided in Chocolate, Tea, and
the Duchess. We won't forget the gentlemen's clubs, White's and Boodles, which
still stand today.
Green Park hosted a duel in my book, Her Timeless
Obsession. I will comb the grounds for the exact spot and photograph it for
posterity.
Of course, when Richard Fanshaw took Victoria
Bramhill for a ride in Hyde Park, in Demands of the Heart, they walked along
the Serpentine. I plan to do the same with my love, and photograph it. I
suppose things have changed considerably in the nearly two hundred years since,
but I have a very fertile imagination.
A thrill for me will be to go to Holkham Hall, in
Wells-Next-To-Sea, in Norwich. When searching for an English estate in which to
set the Sapphire Club, I happened upon Holkham Hall. The inside of the grand
manor house inspired the niches in which I placed naked human beings, in
various poses, during the club's active hours.
You can bet that I will be taking tons of photos at
the Hall, and sharing them on my blog.
We'll also go to Gretna Green in Scotland, where
several couples in my books have run off to and married "over the
anvil." I've read that there is a blacksmith shop there where weddings are
still performed. I will go and photograph it myself! Edinburgh Castle will not
escape our visit either. There is a whole story behind the fact that I was
there once before, and because of a sleeping child, we didn't get to see the
castle. Not this time!
The more modern attractions will be amongst the most
thrilling. The London Eye is an attraction that I can't wait for, as is Madame
Tussaud's.
I can't wait to share our trip with everyone. Stop back every day, click the Brita's British Travelogue tab at the top of this page. Don't forget to comment. You'll want to get in on the drawings for the British souvenirs.
Hugs,
Brita
April 28, 2013
Busy Week Ahead
This is the week before we jet off to London, and it is a busy one indeed. Monday is our son's birthday and while we won't spend it with him, we will talk to him and wish him well. I'll spend the day reminiscing about when he was born and all the years since. I tend to do that as each year passes. While I remain youthful, those children of mine tend to age. What's with that, anyhow?
Tuesday, I go to see the best hairdresser ever. She will cut my hair and we will chat. I always look forward to my visits with her. Wednesday we are having guests for dinner. Thursday is planned to the minute, filled with work, both in getting ready to travel, and preparing the house for our absence. We'll spend the entire day packing, doing laundry, and checking our vast network of spreadsheets and lists, so we don't forget anything.
Last week, we decided to leave our cat home, instead of having him board with Fiona for two weeks. Stormee is an old fart, there is no other way to describe him. He's nearly 15 years old and he does prefer to be left alone, save for evenings on Clint's lap. Once the recliner chair goes back, that is Storm's clarion call to join Daddy.
Thing is, Fiona never leaves the poor guy alone. She spends an inordinate amount of time with her nose stuck in places best left unexplored. Stormee takes offense, then he whines (his version of growling,) which only encourages Fiona to wash, rinse, and repeat. He'll have a tower of food and water, two litter boxes, and the peace the old dude craves. He will thank us in the end.
On Friday morning, at 10, our oldest daughter will arrive to whisk us away to the airport. After a four and a half hour layover in Dallas, we will board British Airways for our flight to Heathrow, where we will arrive at about 9:30 am Saturday morning, or as we like to say, 3:30 am our time, which is central.
I haven't stopped thinking about how successful I will be sleeping upright, but I will make a valiant effort. I have too, because the schedule says we hit the ground running upon arrival.
We will tour and then we're meeting Aleks Voinov for dinner in Chinatown. Happy to be able to spend a part of his birthday with him.
I will post pictures everyday, so anyone who would like, can follow along.
The week will undoubtedly flash by, but as you can see from this photo, we are ready to go!
Tuesday, I go to see the best hairdresser ever. She will cut my hair and we will chat. I always look forward to my visits with her. Wednesday we are having guests for dinner. Thursday is planned to the minute, filled with work, both in getting ready to travel, and preparing the house for our absence. We'll spend the entire day packing, doing laundry, and checking our vast network of spreadsheets and lists, so we don't forget anything.
Last week, we decided to leave our cat home, instead of having him board with Fiona for two weeks. Stormee is an old fart, there is no other way to describe him. He's nearly 15 years old and he does prefer to be left alone, save for evenings on Clint's lap. Once the recliner chair goes back, that is Storm's clarion call to join Daddy.
Thing is, Fiona never leaves the poor guy alone. She spends an inordinate amount of time with her nose stuck in places best left unexplored. Stormee takes offense, then he whines (his version of growling,) which only encourages Fiona to wash, rinse, and repeat. He'll have a tower of food and water, two litter boxes, and the peace the old dude craves. He will thank us in the end.
On Friday morning, at 10, our oldest daughter will arrive to whisk us away to the airport. After a four and a half hour layover in Dallas, we will board British Airways for our flight to Heathrow, where we will arrive at about 9:30 am Saturday morning, or as we like to say, 3:30 am our time, which is central.
I haven't stopped thinking about how successful I will be sleeping upright, but I will make a valiant effort. I have too, because the schedule says we hit the ground running upon arrival.
We will tour and then we're meeting Aleks Voinov for dinner in Chinatown. Happy to be able to spend a part of his birthday with him.
I will post pictures everyday, so anyone who would like, can follow along.
The week will undoubtedly flash by, but as you can see from this photo, we are ready to go!
April 14, 2013
The tour and the British Isles
Thank you to everyone who followed my Tarnished Gold blog Tour. I met some very nice people, gained some lovely readers, and gained renewed enthusiasm for a new project, the second book in the Tarnished series. This one is called Tarnished Soul and will involve a man who runs the powerful publicity department at the Starlight Studios.
My excitement these days revolves around our upcoming trip to England, Scotland, and Wales. We leave in less than three weeks. I still have several pairs of pants to hem, a job I usually leave to the last minute. I keep setting a day to do them, and then find other things to do instead.
We've shopped, planned, watched movies, videos, read tourist books, you name it. On May 3, we board a plane and off we go. Can't wait!
I'm inviting everyone along too. I'll be posting photos every day, right here, starting May 4th. I'm visiting many of the places I have written about and then many, many others. Come by and join the party.
My excitement these days revolves around our upcoming trip to England, Scotland, and Wales. We leave in less than three weeks. I still have several pairs of pants to hem, a job I usually leave to the last minute. I keep setting a day to do them, and then find other things to do instead.
We've shopped, planned, watched movies, videos, read tourist books, you name it. On May 3, we board a plane and off we go. Can't wait!
I'm inviting everyone along too. I'll be posting photos every day, right here, starting May 4th. I'm visiting many of the places I have written about and then many, many others. Come by and join the party.
March 29, 2013
Guilty Pleasures and Exclusive Excerpt from Tarnished Gold
Guilty Pleasures
We all have them, those things we all do that we rarely tell our friends. Here are some of mine, those that I'll admit to anyway.
1. Reality TV - I love it. Big Brother, American Idol, Amazing Race, anything Gordon Ramsey, Chopped, Iron Chef, well pretty much anything on the Food Channel.
2. Soft baked chocolate chip cookies - OMG! I used to bake a lot and these cookies were my favorites and my family's as well. Now, I don't back as much, but I found a bakery that makes them as well as I ever did.
3. I sing along with any song I know. No, I can't sing to save my life, but that doesn't keep me from singing along. I love country music, but '50s and '60s rock n roll snags my heart. I don't dance in public, but I've been known to go after it when I'm alone.
4. Peach Iced Tea - I've stopped drinking soft drinks, but I love peach iced tea. My darling husband makes sure there is always a pitcher in the fridge.
5. Barry Manilow - Yep. No explanation or apology. Love Barry. (My daughter used to call him Barry Melly. LOL)
6. Black & White Movies - I love them. The affected speech, the costumes, the hokey plots. LOVE them. When writing Tarnished Gold, I watched b&w movies by the dozens. I studied the making of them, particularly the early ones. As a girl, I used to wonder why the actors and actresses sounded alike. A bit of trivia - because all actors took elocution lessons in the early days of talkies, they all learned how to speak, but no one seemed to notice they all sounded alike.
7. Barbershop Music - I love it. When we lived in New Orleans, we used to go to Tulane University every year for the barbershop competition.
8. My Grand-Puppy Fiona Dahlia. - We call her Nonies and she is my heart. I love her so much. She's funny, smart, and she does love her Grammie. That might have to do with the fact Grammie always has bacon snacks for the baby. Like I tell her, she's pretty and she's little, and she's Grammie's girl!
What are your guilty pleasures? Come on now. I know you have them. Speak forth. But before you do, here is another exclusive excerpt from Tarnished Gold. For others, check out my posts on the Dreamspinner blog. Scroll down so you get them in order.
Now, without further adieu, here is the excerpt. Enjoy and I hope you enjoy Tarnished Gold.
THE tour and new picture deal turned Jack’s world on its ear. No restaurant meal was complete without autograph seekers, and no shopping trip quite as simple as it once had been.
“It’s a little taste of what your life will be like on the road,” Eric told him on his last evening of a short respite before filming began.
“I’m not so sure I can handle the lack of privacy.”
“Not so grumpy, my friend. This comes with the territory. Think about how you adored Wallace Reid. That’s how folks are going to react to you.”
Jack huffed. “Lot of good all that idol worship did him. He died at thirty.”
“He didn’t die of public adoration.” Eric laughed. “Morphine addiction is something quite different.”
Jack forked some food into his mouth and glared at Eric. The man distilled things in a way that irked him.
“You think?” he said, calling upon his innate mastery of sarcasm.
“I’m just saying. Wally loved acting and he loved the audience. Sad he was injured and the drug took over his life. He’d have been the first to advise you to embrace your fame and cultivate it for all it’s worth.”
“I wish you were coming on the tour.”
“Me?” Eric pointed toward his own chest. “Oh, dear God. I wouldn’t last a week. You will have no worries. Herndon’s people have taken care of every detail. You’ll do fine. Let them guide you. Maybe you’ll meet new friends.” Eric waggled an eyebrow and smiled crookedly.
“I don’t want to meet someone on the road. What sense would that make?”
“You never know.”
He tossed his napkin on the table. Conversing with Eric always exasperated him. “What I do know is that I have to get up very early in the morning, so I’ll bid you a good night.”
“You haven’t finished your meal,” Eric said as he speared a broccoli floret on Jack’s plate.
“You’re welcome to it,” he said, as he dropped money on the table. “This should cover it.”
Eric picked up the bills and handed them back. “I invited you. My treat.”
Jack glared at Eric, unwelcome thoughts tugging at his heart. “Just knowing you is a treat,” he said, then turned and walked away.
He desperately wanted to turn back and assess the expression on Eric’s face but feared it would be as blank as it always was when he expressed unrequited sentiment toward him.
AT SIX the next morning, the car arrived to take Jack to the studio. Aside from the occasional unsatisfactory dinner with Eric, he’d peppered his days off with relaxation and study. He’d found his role in Plantation Bride to be a straightforward one—that of a young man who marries the widow of a cotton plantation and slave owner.
Having had personal experience on a sugar plantation, he despised the slavery premise. Willswood ran as a private enterprise. Wages were low, and the work backbreaking. He’d watched men grow old before their time working that hard, only to take home the pittance the owner paid them. For the slaves of days gone by, fear was their motivation.
His folks’ thoughts on the slave issue differed from his own, but his were borne of listening to the men as they talked about the hardships in their own families during those times. Even as a young boy, Jack had formed an entirely different view than that of his parents.
Charlie Moon, his character in Plantation Bride, was a benevolent man, caught between his conscience and his livelihood. Lita played his sweet wife, who came around to his way of thinking and ultimately, through shared hard work, saved the plantation from ruin, capturing her husband’s heart with her kindly ways.
“Pretty simplistic,” he told Lita as they rehearsed on their first day on the set.
“If only life were so easy,” she answered with her charming laugh.
Filming was melancholic for Jack. He missed his family, and through his profound loneliness, he fancied himself missing Emery.
While he’d visited Marlowe’s much more often than had previously been his habit, his life was effectively empty, devoid of any joy save for his work. He wanted and needed a substantive relationship upon which to base his future. Going home alone every night had made him surly, and even Lita had shunned him socially, saying she’d continue to do so until his disposition showed signs of improvement.
To everyone’s relief, filming progressed without a single problem, and mercifully, shooting wrapped three days early. Jack envisioned a blissful couple of days’ downtime before the big tour.
He dreaded the big party the studio intended to throw, a combination wrap and send-off.
Everyone Jack knew at the studio came to the fete at Herndon’s home, an exquisite palace in the Hollywood Hills. From the imposing colonnades that greeted their arrival, to the domed entrance hall, Jack marveled at the decadence in which the studio boss lived.
“Your home is amazing,” he told Herndon, as he cast his eyes at the painting of Saint Theresa, in a heavily gilded frame.
“The wife wanted a place that resembled the palaces in Rome. I can deny her nothing.”
“Truly a palace.”
“Stocks, my boy. I’ve put my money in stocks. The market’s booming. You should consider investing some of your own money. I’m telling you, considerable return on investment.”
A newsreel cameraman stood before them, capturing the conversation for audiences across the country. The Starlight publicity machine was well greased and working smoothly.
“I’ve got my money in property, but I appreciate your advice.” In their investment discussion, Eric had convinced Jack to sink his money into real estate, something that would never devalue.
“If you ever decide to invest in stocks, come see me and I’ll steer you to my man. He’ll take care of you.”
December, 1924
THE latest news of the suspected shooting death of director Thomas Ince reached Jack just outside of New Orleans. In mid-November, Ince had died of an apparent heart attack, but as the rumor mill churned out more details, newspapers printed the scandalous rumor that William Randolph Hearst himself had shot Ince in a dispute over Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies.
Jack tossed the newspaper on the bed. It was unclear whether Ince was having an affair with Davies or was simply mistaken for Charlie Chaplin, who most certainly was, but the fact remained, Ince was dead.
Jack had met the principles on more than one occasion and had liked them all. He found it difficult to believe that Ince, who had appeared quite in love with his wife, would have flouted something of such personal importance in favor of the powerful Hearst’s paramour.
Though the news had surely rocked Hollywood to its foundation, Jack had something more important to tend to. During the night, the train had arrived in New Orleans, mercifully one of the last stops before they headed back to Los Angeles.
He dressed in his compartment, then met a hired car for the trip uptown to the more than familiar Prytania Theater. At his arrival, it seemed the advance publicity had ginned up the entire Deep South. He helped Lita from the car, to the cheers of the hometown crowd. What a relief to know what city he was in and that it was where he truly wanted to be.
He and Lita waved and stopped before the large wooden doors to answer some questions. Apparently, no one had arranged a formal press conference, so disjointed shouts from the crowd garnered little information.
They waved to the crowd, then stepped into the lobby, where thunderous applause greeted them. He clapped eyes on his mother, and silently thanked God for the answer to his most fervent prayer. It’d been so long since he’d seen his family.
“Mama,” he said, moving toward her with his arms outstretched.
He held his mother close, as emotion welled inside him. He rocked her, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. “I’d hoped you’d be here,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, son. I’m so proud of you.”
He fought to maintain his composure when his mother pulled back slightly and touched his face. How often he’d thought of her loving touch.
The applause brought into focus the others in the room. “We’ll talk later,” he said, then turned to his hosts.
“I’m Al Shay, manager here at the Prytania. We’d like to welcome you, Jack, as our hometown boy made good.”
The assembly cheered and applauded, and Jack waved and shook hands, then indicated he’d like to say a few words.
“Thank you, Mr. Shay. I remember many hours spent in the back row, watching Wallace Reid. It’s nice to be back.” Jack turned to the crowd. “Good morning, New Orleans. I’m so happy to be back home. I certainly never expected this reception, but I’m pleased ya’ll came out, especially my mama, Amelie Abadie.”
Jack watched his mama blush as the group applauded her. His was the loudest, though, and he burst with pride as his mother took in the accolade.
When the applause died down, Jack said, “Everyone, I’d like to introduce my co-star and friend, Lita Hudson.”
As though Mr. Shay had opened a floodgate, the crowd surged forward, anxious hands attempting to touch the stars. Someone in the crowd stepped on his mother’s foot, and she cried out, stilling the crush.
Jack’s protective nature came to the fore. “Please everyone, I promise we won’t leave before we shake your hands, but right now, we must get inside. I hope you enjoy A Charmed Life.”
Again, applause filled the lobby, trailing behind him as he escorted the ladies into the auditorium, followed by the people lucky enough to have gotten one of the tickets.
After the first two episodes, Jack and his mother exited the theater. They had but one day to visit, and Jack wanted to spend every minute he could with his family.
“Papa isn’t well,” his mother said on their chauffeured journey to Jefferson Parish.
“I suspected as much. I’m really sorry I don’t get home, Mama, but I’m working all the time.”
His mother took his hand and kissed each knuckle. “I’m proud of you, son. To see you on that screen like that does my heart good.”
She held his hand to her cheek and cried. Jack wrapped her in his arms and held her quietly until they pulled into the long, gravel drive of the only other home he’d ever known.
He paused after he helped his mother from the car. “I dread seeing Papa in such a state.”
“Everyone’s time comes, cher, and it seems that your papa’s is nigh. Something we all must face.”
Admiring his mother’s strength, yet consumed by the feeling that life was passing by much too quickly, he followed her into the house. They stepped into the tiny front room, where his father lay flat on his back in bed. His brother, Andrew, stood and made short work of the distance between them, grabbing Jack and hugging him until he’d squeezed the breath from Jack’s body. Gazing over Andrew’s shoulder, Jack silently willed his father to open his eyes, to no avail.
Jack knelt beside the narrow pine bed and took his father’s skeletal hand. “Papa.”
His father didn’t respond.
“He’s medicated for the pain, cher,” his mother said, “but he knows you’re here.”
Jack sniffled, finding his father laid low even more difficult than he’d imagined.
“He’d be the first to tell you that he’d had a good life and you shouldn’t fret so.”
Andrew patted his shoulder. “Come on, brother, let’s go outside. I want to show you something.”
“That’s right. You two go along, while I fix supper.”
Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. How often had his mother spoken those exact words? Hearing them sounded so good.
He followed Andrew out the torn screen door and into the yard, where a familiar wooden bench stood perched against the huge pecan tree.
“She doesn’t use the money I send home, does she?”
Andrew sat back against the tree. “Nope, not a cent. Says you work too hard for it, and if Papa or I didn’t earn it, it ain’t getting spent by her.”
Jack kicked at a small rock. “That’s foolishness and I’ll tell her so. Papa’s not going to be earning anything anymore and someone has to take care of her.”
“That’s my job, Jack, not yours. I live here and we manage.”
Jack paced, each step a cloud of dust. “I make more money than I can spend, Andy. I want to share it with ya’ll.”
“I understand, really I do, but Mama has the idea that you aren’t always going to be making that kind of money, and you’re going to need to save what you have now. She’s old-fashioned, you know that.”
True enough. “I want ya’ll in a better house. I can well afford to buy a nicer place.”
Andrew shook his head. “Save your breath. She won’t hear of it.”
“Then I want this place fixed up. Will you do that much for me?”
“Sure, but we have to make it seem like I’m paying for it, or she’ll have a hissy fit.”
“Whatever it takes, but I want it done. She deserves some comfort for a change. That screen door has been in that condition since before I left.”
“With everything else going on around here, it isn’t important.”
“I can’t have my family living like this, while I have a beautiful new house in Los Angeles. You have to make it happen, or I will.”
Andrew nodded. “Agreed.”
“What’s the situation with Papa? Mama never writes me, so seeing him like that was a shock.”
“Mama’s convinced he’s held on this long in the hopes you’d come home and he could see you one last time. He’s not good, brother. Most days, when the medication wears off, he begs to die.”
Helplessness wasn’t a familiar feeling. “You have to figure out a way to circumvent Mama’s stubbornness. I want my family living better than this. She takes care of everyone but herself. After Papa’s gone, I want Mama to have everything she needs. Promise me.”
Andrew nodded. “Of course, I promise.”
Satisfied, his thoughts drifted to other things. “Ah, have you seen Emery lately?”
“Yeah, we see him and his wife in church. She’s about to pop with their fourth. All boys so far. Emery’s bustin’ his buttons he’s so proud. Brags on how it takes a real man to have all sons.”
“Phfft. Who’d he marry?”
“You remember Esther Hemelt?”
“Yeah, red hair, buck teeth?”
“Yeah, that’s her. You left and in sight of a month, he upped and married her. He walks around with a frown most of the time, but for when he’s talkin’ about the babies.”
Emery married. Damn, that’s a shock. “I’d like to see him,” Jack said before he realized he’d said it.
“No, I don’t believe you would, brother. He knew you were coming and told me directly that you shouldn’t come near him. Says that was the past, and he has his family now.”
Jack chuckled humorlessly as a stab of sadness shot through him. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Best that you moved on. Emery was never worthy of you, Jack.”
As though closing the cover on a chapter of his life, Jack asked about other friends. They gossiped awhile longer, and Jack didn’t want it to end. He’d missed Andrew more than he’d realized. They chatted about Andrew’s women, and the neighbors who’d passed on. Seemed death and dying were all anyone talked about back home. That and old boyfriends marrying the ugliest girls. Jack chuckled at the irony.
“Come on in, boys,” his mother shouted through the rusted screen on the backdoor.
They stepped lively and bounded into the house with a great clatter. “Wash your hands, you two, before sitting down to my table.”
Jack relished the sound of those words.
All too soon they’d consumed every bit of the Shrimp Etouffee, home-baked bread, over-sweet iced tea, and bread pudding. “Oh, Mama, you know how to bring home back to this boy.” Jack laughed as undid the top button on his pants, then patted his stomach.
“I worry that you’re not eating right, cher. You need a wife to look after you.”
“I’m eating just fine, Mama. I promise.” He kept secret that he’d hired a cook from Louisiana and that there wouldn’t be a wife in the offing. It sure felt nice to have her worry about him, though.
The old thirty-day clock chimed seven o’clock, and he still had an hour’s ride back to the hotel. “I really have to go. Our train leaves very early in the morning.”
Stoic as ever, his mother stood and hugged him tight, then brushed imaginary lint off his coat. “You’re lookin’ thin, my boy.”
“I’m not either,” he said with a chuckle. “You just want to fatten me up. There’ll be no place for me on the screen if I listen to you.”
His mother blushed like a schoolgirl. “You shouldn’t talk to your mama like that, but all right, then. Say goodbye to Papa and then get back to the car. You shouldn’t keep your poor driver waiting.”
“He’s paid very well to wait.”
A moan drew him to the bed. His father’s eyelids fluttered as he attempted to speak. “Jack,” he said on a whisper.
Jack knelt beside the bed and took his papa’s hand, a dead weight for the man’s weakness. “I’m here. It’s me.”
“I’m proud….”
Jack leaned across his father and wrapped an arm around his frail body. “Thank you,” he whispered, as an unbidden tear slid down his cheek.
Purchase the Tarnished Gold ebook
or print,
signed by the author (if one of the first twenty sold.) The twenty print books are going fast, get yours now.
Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, right here on the blog or any of these other places:
Website
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The Tarnished Gold tour continues. Check out the schedule page in the top of this page. Each stop offers a giveaway. All the details for the tour are on the tour page.
One random commenter will win their choice of a backlist book (found on my website.) To be eligible here, you must give me your guilty pleasure(s).
Hugs and see you on the tour trail.
Brita
We all have them, those things we all do that we rarely tell our friends. Here are some of mine, those that I'll admit to anyway.
1. Reality TV - I love it. Big Brother, American Idol, Amazing Race, anything Gordon Ramsey, Chopped, Iron Chef, well pretty much anything on the Food Channel.
2. Soft baked chocolate chip cookies - OMG! I used to bake a lot and these cookies were my favorites and my family's as well. Now, I don't back as much, but I found a bakery that makes them as well as I ever did.
3. I sing along with any song I know. No, I can't sing to save my life, but that doesn't keep me from singing along. I love country music, but '50s and '60s rock n roll snags my heart. I don't dance in public, but I've been known to go after it when I'm alone.
4. Peach Iced Tea - I've stopped drinking soft drinks, but I love peach iced tea. My darling husband makes sure there is always a pitcher in the fridge.
5. Barry Manilow - Yep. No explanation or apology. Love Barry. (My daughter used to call him Barry Melly. LOL)
6. Black & White Movies - I love them. The affected speech, the costumes, the hokey plots. LOVE them. When writing Tarnished Gold, I watched b&w movies by the dozens. I studied the making of them, particularly the early ones. As a girl, I used to wonder why the actors and actresses sounded alike. A bit of trivia - because all actors took elocution lessons in the early days of talkies, they all learned how to speak, but no one seemed to notice they all sounded alike.
7. Barbershop Music - I love it. When we lived in New Orleans, we used to go to Tulane University every year for the barbershop competition.
8. My Grand-Puppy Fiona Dahlia. - We call her Nonies and she is my heart. I love her so much. She's funny, smart, and she does love her Grammie. That might have to do with the fact Grammie always has bacon snacks for the baby. Like I tell her, she's pretty and she's little, and she's Grammie's girl!
What are your guilty pleasures? Come on now. I know you have them. Speak forth. But before you do, here is another exclusive excerpt from Tarnished Gold. For others, check out my posts on the Dreamspinner blog. Scroll down so you get them in order.
Now, without further adieu, here is the excerpt. Enjoy and I hope you enjoy Tarnished Gold.
THE tour and new picture deal turned Jack’s world on its ear. No restaurant meal was complete without autograph seekers, and no shopping trip quite as simple as it once had been.
“It’s a little taste of what your life will be like on the road,” Eric told him on his last evening of a short respite before filming began.
“I’m not so sure I can handle the lack of privacy.”
“Not so grumpy, my friend. This comes with the territory. Think about how you adored Wallace Reid. That’s how folks are going to react to you.”
Jack huffed. “Lot of good all that idol worship did him. He died at thirty.”
“He didn’t die of public adoration.” Eric laughed. “Morphine addiction is something quite different.”
Jack forked some food into his mouth and glared at Eric. The man distilled things in a way that irked him.
“You think?” he said, calling upon his innate mastery of sarcasm.
“I’m just saying. Wally loved acting and he loved the audience. Sad he was injured and the drug took over his life. He’d have been the first to advise you to embrace your fame and cultivate it for all it’s worth.”
“I wish you were coming on the tour.”
“Me?” Eric pointed toward his own chest. “Oh, dear God. I wouldn’t last a week. You will have no worries. Herndon’s people have taken care of every detail. You’ll do fine. Let them guide you. Maybe you’ll meet new friends.” Eric waggled an eyebrow and smiled crookedly.
“I don’t want to meet someone on the road. What sense would that make?”
“You never know.”
He tossed his napkin on the table. Conversing with Eric always exasperated him. “What I do know is that I have to get up very early in the morning, so I’ll bid you a good night.”
“You haven’t finished your meal,” Eric said as he speared a broccoli floret on Jack’s plate.
“You’re welcome to it,” he said, as he dropped money on the table. “This should cover it.”
Eric picked up the bills and handed them back. “I invited you. My treat.”
Jack glared at Eric, unwelcome thoughts tugging at his heart. “Just knowing you is a treat,” he said, then turned and walked away.
He desperately wanted to turn back and assess the expression on Eric’s face but feared it would be as blank as it always was when he expressed unrequited sentiment toward him.
AT SIX the next morning, the car arrived to take Jack to the studio. Aside from the occasional unsatisfactory dinner with Eric, he’d peppered his days off with relaxation and study. He’d found his role in Plantation Bride to be a straightforward one—that of a young man who marries the widow of a cotton plantation and slave owner.
Having had personal experience on a sugar plantation, he despised the slavery premise. Willswood ran as a private enterprise. Wages were low, and the work backbreaking. He’d watched men grow old before their time working that hard, only to take home the pittance the owner paid them. For the slaves of days gone by, fear was their motivation.
His folks’ thoughts on the slave issue differed from his own, but his were borne of listening to the men as they talked about the hardships in their own families during those times. Even as a young boy, Jack had formed an entirely different view than that of his parents.
Charlie Moon, his character in Plantation Bride, was a benevolent man, caught between his conscience and his livelihood. Lita played his sweet wife, who came around to his way of thinking and ultimately, through shared hard work, saved the plantation from ruin, capturing her husband’s heart with her kindly ways.
“Pretty simplistic,” he told Lita as they rehearsed on their first day on the set.
“If only life were so easy,” she answered with her charming laugh.
Filming was melancholic for Jack. He missed his family, and through his profound loneliness, he fancied himself missing Emery.
While he’d visited Marlowe’s much more often than had previously been his habit, his life was effectively empty, devoid of any joy save for his work. He wanted and needed a substantive relationship upon which to base his future. Going home alone every night had made him surly, and even Lita had shunned him socially, saying she’d continue to do so until his disposition showed signs of improvement.
To everyone’s relief, filming progressed without a single problem, and mercifully, shooting wrapped three days early. Jack envisioned a blissful couple of days’ downtime before the big tour.
He dreaded the big party the studio intended to throw, a combination wrap and send-off.
Everyone Jack knew at the studio came to the fete at Herndon’s home, an exquisite palace in the Hollywood Hills. From the imposing colonnades that greeted their arrival, to the domed entrance hall, Jack marveled at the decadence in which the studio boss lived.
“Your home is amazing,” he told Herndon, as he cast his eyes at the painting of Saint Theresa, in a heavily gilded frame.
“The wife wanted a place that resembled the palaces in Rome. I can deny her nothing.”
“Truly a palace.”
“Stocks, my boy. I’ve put my money in stocks. The market’s booming. You should consider investing some of your own money. I’m telling you, considerable return on investment.”
A newsreel cameraman stood before them, capturing the conversation for audiences across the country. The Starlight publicity machine was well greased and working smoothly.
“I’ve got my money in property, but I appreciate your advice.” In their investment discussion, Eric had convinced Jack to sink his money into real estate, something that would never devalue.
“If you ever decide to invest in stocks, come see me and I’ll steer you to my man. He’ll take care of you.”
December, 1924
THE latest news of the suspected shooting death of director Thomas Ince reached Jack just outside of New Orleans. In mid-November, Ince had died of an apparent heart attack, but as the rumor mill churned out more details, newspapers printed the scandalous rumor that William Randolph Hearst himself had shot Ince in a dispute over Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies.
Jack tossed the newspaper on the bed. It was unclear whether Ince was having an affair with Davies or was simply mistaken for Charlie Chaplin, who most certainly was, but the fact remained, Ince was dead.
Jack had met the principles on more than one occasion and had liked them all. He found it difficult to believe that Ince, who had appeared quite in love with his wife, would have flouted something of such personal importance in favor of the powerful Hearst’s paramour.
Though the news had surely rocked Hollywood to its foundation, Jack had something more important to tend to. During the night, the train had arrived in New Orleans, mercifully one of the last stops before they headed back to Los Angeles.
He dressed in his compartment, then met a hired car for the trip uptown to the more than familiar Prytania Theater. At his arrival, it seemed the advance publicity had ginned up the entire Deep South. He helped Lita from the car, to the cheers of the hometown crowd. What a relief to know what city he was in and that it was where he truly wanted to be.
He and Lita waved and stopped before the large wooden doors to answer some questions. Apparently, no one had arranged a formal press conference, so disjointed shouts from the crowd garnered little information.
They waved to the crowd, then stepped into the lobby, where thunderous applause greeted them. He clapped eyes on his mother, and silently thanked God for the answer to his most fervent prayer. It’d been so long since he’d seen his family.
“Mama,” he said, moving toward her with his arms outstretched.
He held his mother close, as emotion welled inside him. He rocked her, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. “I’d hoped you’d be here,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, son. I’m so proud of you.”
He fought to maintain his composure when his mother pulled back slightly and touched his face. How often he’d thought of her loving touch.
The applause brought into focus the others in the room. “We’ll talk later,” he said, then turned to his hosts.
“I’m Al Shay, manager here at the Prytania. We’d like to welcome you, Jack, as our hometown boy made good.”
The assembly cheered and applauded, and Jack waved and shook hands, then indicated he’d like to say a few words.
“Thank you, Mr. Shay. I remember many hours spent in the back row, watching Wallace Reid. It’s nice to be back.” Jack turned to the crowd. “Good morning, New Orleans. I’m so happy to be back home. I certainly never expected this reception, but I’m pleased ya’ll came out, especially my mama, Amelie Abadie.”
Jack watched his mama blush as the group applauded her. His was the loudest, though, and he burst with pride as his mother took in the accolade.
When the applause died down, Jack said, “Everyone, I’d like to introduce my co-star and friend, Lita Hudson.”
As though Mr. Shay had opened a floodgate, the crowd surged forward, anxious hands attempting to touch the stars. Someone in the crowd stepped on his mother’s foot, and she cried out, stilling the crush.
Jack’s protective nature came to the fore. “Please everyone, I promise we won’t leave before we shake your hands, but right now, we must get inside. I hope you enjoy A Charmed Life.”
Again, applause filled the lobby, trailing behind him as he escorted the ladies into the auditorium, followed by the people lucky enough to have gotten one of the tickets.
After the first two episodes, Jack and his mother exited the theater. They had but one day to visit, and Jack wanted to spend every minute he could with his family.
“Papa isn’t well,” his mother said on their chauffeured journey to Jefferson Parish.
“I suspected as much. I’m really sorry I don’t get home, Mama, but I’m working all the time.”
His mother took his hand and kissed each knuckle. “I’m proud of you, son. To see you on that screen like that does my heart good.”
She held his hand to her cheek and cried. Jack wrapped her in his arms and held her quietly until they pulled into the long, gravel drive of the only other home he’d ever known.
He paused after he helped his mother from the car. “I dread seeing Papa in such a state.”
“Everyone’s time comes, cher, and it seems that your papa’s is nigh. Something we all must face.”
Admiring his mother’s strength, yet consumed by the feeling that life was passing by much too quickly, he followed her into the house. They stepped into the tiny front room, where his father lay flat on his back in bed. His brother, Andrew, stood and made short work of the distance between them, grabbing Jack and hugging him until he’d squeezed the breath from Jack’s body. Gazing over Andrew’s shoulder, Jack silently willed his father to open his eyes, to no avail.
Jack knelt beside the narrow pine bed and took his father’s skeletal hand. “Papa.”
His father didn’t respond.
“He’s medicated for the pain, cher,” his mother said, “but he knows you’re here.”
Jack sniffled, finding his father laid low even more difficult than he’d imagined.
“He’d be the first to tell you that he’d had a good life and you shouldn’t fret so.”
Andrew patted his shoulder. “Come on, brother, let’s go outside. I want to show you something.”
“That’s right. You two go along, while I fix supper.”
Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. How often had his mother spoken those exact words? Hearing them sounded so good.
He followed Andrew out the torn screen door and into the yard, where a familiar wooden bench stood perched against the huge pecan tree.
“She doesn’t use the money I send home, does she?”
Andrew sat back against the tree. “Nope, not a cent. Says you work too hard for it, and if Papa or I didn’t earn it, it ain’t getting spent by her.”
Jack kicked at a small rock. “That’s foolishness and I’ll tell her so. Papa’s not going to be earning anything anymore and someone has to take care of her.”
“That’s my job, Jack, not yours. I live here and we manage.”
Jack paced, each step a cloud of dust. “I make more money than I can spend, Andy. I want to share it with ya’ll.”
“I understand, really I do, but Mama has the idea that you aren’t always going to be making that kind of money, and you’re going to need to save what you have now. She’s old-fashioned, you know that.”
True enough. “I want ya’ll in a better house. I can well afford to buy a nicer place.”
Andrew shook his head. “Save your breath. She won’t hear of it.”
“Then I want this place fixed up. Will you do that much for me?”
“Sure, but we have to make it seem like I’m paying for it, or she’ll have a hissy fit.”
“Whatever it takes, but I want it done. She deserves some comfort for a change. That screen door has been in that condition since before I left.”
“With everything else going on around here, it isn’t important.”
“I can’t have my family living like this, while I have a beautiful new house in Los Angeles. You have to make it happen, or I will.”
Andrew nodded. “Agreed.”
“What’s the situation with Papa? Mama never writes me, so seeing him like that was a shock.”
“Mama’s convinced he’s held on this long in the hopes you’d come home and he could see you one last time. He’s not good, brother. Most days, when the medication wears off, he begs to die.”
Helplessness wasn’t a familiar feeling. “You have to figure out a way to circumvent Mama’s stubbornness. I want my family living better than this. She takes care of everyone but herself. After Papa’s gone, I want Mama to have everything she needs. Promise me.”
Andrew nodded. “Of course, I promise.”
Satisfied, his thoughts drifted to other things. “Ah, have you seen Emery lately?”
“Yeah, we see him and his wife in church. She’s about to pop with their fourth. All boys so far. Emery’s bustin’ his buttons he’s so proud. Brags on how it takes a real man to have all sons.”
“Phfft. Who’d he marry?”
“You remember Esther Hemelt?”
“Yeah, red hair, buck teeth?”
“Yeah, that’s her. You left and in sight of a month, he upped and married her. He walks around with a frown most of the time, but for when he’s talkin’ about the babies.”
Emery married. Damn, that’s a shock. “I’d like to see him,” Jack said before he realized he’d said it.
“No, I don’t believe you would, brother. He knew you were coming and told me directly that you shouldn’t come near him. Says that was the past, and he has his family now.”
Jack chuckled humorlessly as a stab of sadness shot through him. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Best that you moved on. Emery was never worthy of you, Jack.”
As though closing the cover on a chapter of his life, Jack asked about other friends. They gossiped awhile longer, and Jack didn’t want it to end. He’d missed Andrew more than he’d realized. They chatted about Andrew’s women, and the neighbors who’d passed on. Seemed death and dying were all anyone talked about back home. That and old boyfriends marrying the ugliest girls. Jack chuckled at the irony.
“Come on in, boys,” his mother shouted through the rusted screen on the backdoor.
They stepped lively and bounded into the house with a great clatter. “Wash your hands, you two, before sitting down to my table.”
Jack relished the sound of those words.
All too soon they’d consumed every bit of the Shrimp Etouffee, home-baked bread, over-sweet iced tea, and bread pudding. “Oh, Mama, you know how to bring home back to this boy.” Jack laughed as undid the top button on his pants, then patted his stomach.
“I worry that you’re not eating right, cher. You need a wife to look after you.”
“I’m eating just fine, Mama. I promise.” He kept secret that he’d hired a cook from Louisiana and that there wouldn’t be a wife in the offing. It sure felt nice to have her worry about him, though.
The old thirty-day clock chimed seven o’clock, and he still had an hour’s ride back to the hotel. “I really have to go. Our train leaves very early in the morning.”
Stoic as ever, his mother stood and hugged him tight, then brushed imaginary lint off his coat. “You’re lookin’ thin, my boy.”
“I’m not either,” he said with a chuckle. “You just want to fatten me up. There’ll be no place for me on the screen if I listen to you.”
His mother blushed like a schoolgirl. “You shouldn’t talk to your mama like that, but all right, then. Say goodbye to Papa and then get back to the car. You shouldn’t keep your poor driver waiting.”
“He’s paid very well to wait.”
A moan drew him to the bed. His father’s eyelids fluttered as he attempted to speak. “Jack,” he said on a whisper.
Jack knelt beside the bed and took his papa’s hand, a dead weight for the man’s weakness. “I’m here. It’s me.”
“I’m proud….”
Jack leaned across his father and wrapped an arm around his frail body. “Thank you,” he whispered, as an unbidden tear slid down his cheek.
Purchase the Tarnished Gold ebook
or print,
signed by the author (if one of the first twenty sold.) The twenty print books are going fast, get yours now.
Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, right here on the blog or any of these other places:
Website
Blog
Fan Page
Goodreads
Bookshelf
Amazon Author Page
The Tarnished Gold tour continues. Check out the schedule page in the top of this page. Each stop offers a giveaway. All the details for the tour are on the tour page.
One random commenter will win their choice of a backlist book (found on my website.) To be eligible here, you must give me your guilty pleasure(s).
Hugs and see you on the tour trail.
Brita
March 25, 2013
Great Reviews and the Tarnished Gold Blog Tour Has Started
Release day is always exciting and this one is no different. I was greeted with three wonderful reviews for the book that I poured so much love into.
World of Diversity calls Tarnished Gold " that perfect feel good story."
Live your Life, Buy the Book says that Tarnished Gold is "an enchanting read."
Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews said that they hope the review they gave "represented how truly great this story is," and "a True Gem."
I am gratified to have others think so highly of my work. I can't begin to say what it means to me to have others appreciate my work.
Please do follow my blog tour. I am giving away ebooks at each stop and each comment earns the commenter one entry in the drawing for a Kindle.
I look forward to meeting everyone. Check out my stop at the Dreamspinner Blog. Lots of excerpts and some information on the inspiration for the book.
The full schedule for the blog tour is on the blog tour page
World of Diversity calls Tarnished Gold " that perfect feel good story."
Live your Life, Buy the Book says that Tarnished Gold is "an enchanting read."
Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews said that they hope the review they gave "represented how truly great this story is," and "a True Gem."
I am gratified to have others think so highly of my work. I can't begin to say what it means to me to have others appreciate my work.
Please do follow my blog tour. I am giving away ebooks at each stop and each comment earns the commenter one entry in the drawing for a Kindle.
I look forward to meeting everyone. Check out my stop at the Dreamspinner Blog. Lots of excerpts and some information on the inspiration for the book.
The full schedule for the blog tour is on the blog tour page
March 22, 2013
Gearing up for release day
As I gear up for the release of Tarnished Gold, I can't help but remember the births of my human children, as the anticipation is much the same, save for the labor pains, which in the case of writing, come beforehand.
I've done much preparation for the blog tour, which grew from about twelve stops to thirty-two, but who's counting? I haven't been this excited about a book release since my first one, save for For Men Like Us, which is another of my all-time favorites.
Perhaps the fact that I have actually been to Hollywood helps my excitement along. I've stepped in the footprints of Mary Pickford and Clark Gable at Grauman's Chinese Theater, walked Hollywood Boulevard and saw the embedded stars of many of my favorites.
Jack Abadie and Wyatt Maitland, the stars of Tarnished Gold, have lived in my head for well over a year. They were birthed there, fully grown and anxious to see the world I created for them. They matured on page as I wrote their story. They disagreed with me when I added another character to the mix and helped me drum him out of the story.
Wyatt demanded a back story and guided me as he created his family and the circumstances under which he left the home he grew up in and took up residence in Hollywood. He found work at Sid Grauman's Million Dollar Theater and it is there that he met Jack Abadie, motion picture idol.
I created Jack from men I have known, and placed him in a setting I know well. Jack grew up in a house I lived in for twenty years, where my husband and I raised our children, where my husband was raised.
My husband's grandparents worked on a sugar plantation in Waggaman, Louisiana, a stop along the famous River Road, home to many of the Deep South's grand plantations. Willswood Plantation, not grand at all, was privately owned in the early 1900s and employed immigrants and locals alike. Clint's grandmother cooked for all the workers and his grandfather was a carpenter.
While I never met Wilfred, I knew Clint's grandmother, Uranie, well. She was an old Cajun woman when we met, with an accent so thick you could cut it with the proverbial knife. All you ever had to do was say, "How you doin' Gra'ma?" and she took care of the rest of the conversation. I only knew her for five years, but she endeared herself to me because she loved Clint so much. He was her eyes, she used to say.
I patterned Jack's mother after Gra'ma, his father after Wilfred. While they appear briefly on page, they live in Jack's head always. He never strays too far from his Southern roots and he remembers the lessons his family taught him. His endearment for Wyatt, cher, comes from his childhood, as it came from my husband's.
How does a born and bred Southern boy end up in sunny Hollywood? Like me, Jack has an overwhelming love of the movies. My father took me to movies from the time I could sit up and I am convinced it is either movies or die for me. In the thirty-seven years my husband and I have known each other, it has been a rare occasion when we haven't gone for Friday Date Night (now Day since we are retired.) It has always been a given and always includes a movie and dinner.
We spent a few of those nights at the Prytania Theater in New Orleans, now the only single screen theater in the state. In Tarnished Gold, Jack recalls the many Saturdays he spent in the balcony at the Prytania, watching silents, mostly with his favorite actor, Wallace Reid. Hollywood beckoned to Jack. The dream of stardom kept him going when life in the sultry South stifled him. Wanderlust drew him to California, where he found the life he was meant to live.
Tarnished Gold immersed me in a world I loved as I grew up. Aside from reading a couple dozen books and spending hours on website dedicated to the Golden Age of Hollywood, I spent many lovely hours watching old silent films, noting each nuance. I watched the early talkies with an entirely different eye, as I was watching them as Jack. The affected speech, so common in them, came from the elocution lessons every actor had to undergo for the transition into talkies. I always wondered why everyone sounded the same!
As a kid, I used to think that all actors were from England and of noble birth, but, ha ha, that was not the case. Most came from humble backgrounds and clawed their way up the food chain. Many got their start on the stage, and then, when those careers faded, they carried their name and cache to the new medium. Some were sought out for their fame, many for their good looks, and others, for their innate acting abilities.
My real life babies have all left the nest, thankfully, reside not too far from home. Now, on this last Date Day before Tarnished Gold trundles off into the world, I am excited and not a little hesitant about it making its debut. On Monday, Dreamspinner releases it, all grown up and ready to take on the world. I'll straighten Jack and Wyatt's ties one the last time, apply some spit to an errant curl or two, and then wave as the book finds its way into the hands of readers. I am extremely proud of this one. The labor was intense, but the baby is beautiful.
You can read an excerpt and preorder Tarnished Gold all weekend. And don't forget the blog tour that starts Monday, March 25. The Grand Prize is a Kindle, and all you have to do is stop by the blogs where I'm guesting and leave comments. The more comments, the more entries you have in the Kindle drawing.
Have a great weekend!
Hugs
I've done much preparation for the blog tour, which grew from about twelve stops to thirty-two, but who's counting? I haven't been this excited about a book release since my first one, save for For Men Like Us, which is another of my all-time favorites.
Perhaps the fact that I have actually been to Hollywood helps my excitement along. I've stepped in the footprints of Mary Pickford and Clark Gable at Grauman's Chinese Theater, walked Hollywood Boulevard and saw the embedded stars of many of my favorites.
Jack Abadie and Wyatt Maitland, the stars of Tarnished Gold, have lived in my head for well over a year. They were birthed there, fully grown and anxious to see the world I created for them. They matured on page as I wrote their story. They disagreed with me when I added another character to the mix and helped me drum him out of the story.
Wyatt demanded a back story and guided me as he created his family and the circumstances under which he left the home he grew up in and took up residence in Hollywood. He found work at Sid Grauman's Million Dollar Theater and it is there that he met Jack Abadie, motion picture idol.
I created Jack from men I have known, and placed him in a setting I know well. Jack grew up in a house I lived in for twenty years, where my husband and I raised our children, where my husband was raised.
My husband's grandparents worked on a sugar plantation in Waggaman, Louisiana, a stop along the famous River Road, home to many of the Deep South's grand plantations. Willswood Plantation, not grand at all, was privately owned in the early 1900s and employed immigrants and locals alike. Clint's grandmother cooked for all the workers and his grandfather was a carpenter.
While I never met Wilfred, I knew Clint's grandmother, Uranie, well. She was an old Cajun woman when we met, with an accent so thick you could cut it with the proverbial knife. All you ever had to do was say, "How you doin' Gra'ma?" and she took care of the rest of the conversation. I only knew her for five years, but she endeared herself to me because she loved Clint so much. He was her eyes, she used to say.
I patterned Jack's mother after Gra'ma, his father after Wilfred. While they appear briefly on page, they live in Jack's head always. He never strays too far from his Southern roots and he remembers the lessons his family taught him. His endearment for Wyatt, cher, comes from his childhood, as it came from my husband's.
How does a born and bred Southern boy end up in sunny Hollywood? Like me, Jack has an overwhelming love of the movies. My father took me to movies from the time I could sit up and I am convinced it is either movies or die for me. In the thirty-seven years my husband and I have known each other, it has been a rare occasion when we haven't gone for Friday Date Night (now Day since we are retired.) It has always been a given and always includes a movie and dinner.
We spent a few of those nights at the Prytania Theater in New Orleans, now the only single screen theater in the state. In Tarnished Gold, Jack recalls the many Saturdays he spent in the balcony at the Prytania, watching silents, mostly with his favorite actor, Wallace Reid. Hollywood beckoned to Jack. The dream of stardom kept him going when life in the sultry South stifled him. Wanderlust drew him to California, where he found the life he was meant to live.
Tarnished Gold immersed me in a world I loved as I grew up. Aside from reading a couple dozen books and spending hours on website dedicated to the Golden Age of Hollywood, I spent many lovely hours watching old silent films, noting each nuance. I watched the early talkies with an entirely different eye, as I was watching them as Jack. The affected speech, so common in them, came from the elocution lessons every actor had to undergo for the transition into talkies. I always wondered why everyone sounded the same!
As a kid, I used to think that all actors were from England and of noble birth, but, ha ha, that was not the case. Most came from humble backgrounds and clawed their way up the food chain. Many got their start on the stage, and then, when those careers faded, they carried their name and cache to the new medium. Some were sought out for their fame, many for their good looks, and others, for their innate acting abilities.
My real life babies have all left the nest, thankfully, reside not too far from home. Now, on this last Date Day before Tarnished Gold trundles off into the world, I am excited and not a little hesitant about it making its debut. On Monday, Dreamspinner releases it, all grown up and ready to take on the world. I'll straighten Jack and Wyatt's ties one the last time, apply some spit to an errant curl or two, and then wave as the book finds its way into the hands of readers. I am extremely proud of this one. The labor was intense, but the baby is beautiful.
You can read an excerpt and preorder Tarnished Gold all weekend. And don't forget the blog tour that starts Monday, March 25. The Grand Prize is a Kindle, and all you have to do is stop by the blogs where I'm guesting and leave comments. The more comments, the more entries you have in the Kindle drawing.
Have a great weekend!
Hugs
March 15, 2013
Tarnished Gold Excerpt now available!
This has been a week spent with a miserable cold (is there any other kind?) but lots of things accomplished. I'm knee deep in blog posts and interviews for my upcoming Tarnished Gold blog tour, almost home with the obligated pieces.
In writing them, I reveled in some old memories and laughed at some too. Strange how poignant a simple question like, "What made you want to write?" can actually be.
There is a 4500 word excerpt from Tarnished Gold, up on Dreamspinner Press. The first peak behind that beautiful cover. Get to know Jack Abadie before Hollywood.
I'm so excited about the release of this book. Don't forget to check out the blog tour schedule. It's massive. Seems I'm adding new stops every day.
I'm giving away a Kindle, so you will want to get on board. I anticipate some fun discussions along the way.
Check out the blurb, and let me know what you think.
In writing them, I reveled in some old memories and laughed at some too. Strange how poignant a simple question like, "What made you want to write?" can actually be.
There is a 4500 word excerpt from Tarnished Gold, up on Dreamspinner Press. The first peak behind that beautiful cover. Get to know Jack Abadie before Hollywood.
I'm so excited about the release of this book. Don't forget to check out the blog tour schedule. It's massive. Seems I'm adding new stops every day.
I'm giving away a Kindle, so you will want to get on board. I anticipate some fun discussions along the way.
Check out the blurb, and let me know what you think.
