Mona Hodgson's Blog - Posts Tagged "mona-hodgson"
Dr. Quinn Time
The year was 1996. Remaining true to our annual tradition, that summer my friend Shirley and I loaded the back of my Jeep and headed to a cabin in Northern Arizona. I would write and she would work on her music. However, that year, we encountered a big problem. No, it wasn’t a bear on the trail, the squirrels in the attic, the midnight mice, or a skunk on the porch. We’re much too resilient to consider mere animal antics a problem.
No, our two-day getaway to the cabin swallowed Saturday. Seriously? Saturday night was DR. QUINN, MEDICINE WOMAN night, and the modest cabin didn’t allow for TV viewing.
Don’t get me wrong--we’re all about retreating from noise and hectic pace of small town life and breathing in the pine-scented tranquility the mountains have to offer, but miss viewing Dr. Quinn (Jane Seymour) and Sully (Joe Lando) in “real time?” Far too much to ask. No way.
Sure too bad about our annual drive up the mountain to view and photograph deer and elk. We had to find a place with good television reception. The nearest town was a mere twenty or thirty miles away. Never mind that we’d be driving back to the cabin in the dark . . . in the land of bears and deer and elk. Where, oh where, could we go to catch up with the unstoppable Dr. Michaela “Mike” Quinn and mountain man Bryon Sully? Remember, this was before televisions lines the walls of most eateries. So, we brainstormed our options. Department stores that sold televisions? Sports bars? Uh, not the kind of shows they broadcast.
Ah ha! Hospital rooms have televisions. Yep. Off we went to the hospital, put our dollar bills into the vending machine, and searched for an empty room with a TV. With no time to spare, we settled into the outpatient waiting room and historic Colorado Springs with the beloved cast of DR. QUINN, MEDICINE WOMAN.
Yes, it was a dreary day when that show was cancelled. But fast forward to 2012. I’m a historical novelist, writing Old West fiction for WaterBrook Press and I’m still fascinated with the role of female physicians in the 1800’s. It’s no wonder then that Colorado doctor, Susan Anderson known as Doc Susie, serves as my “real life” character in The Bride Wore Blue, Book Three in The Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek Series.
Headed toward a fresh start but tethered by her past, Vivian longs to break free, to find forgiveness and love.
At last, the sisters are reunited! The youngest Sinclair, the family “baby,” is moving from Maine to Cripple Creek, Colorado and joining Kat, Nell, and Ida. But Vivian is a young woman with a will of her own, and made some decisions back in Portland that have begun to haunt her. Will she be able to live up to the expectations of her three perfect and now happily-settled sisters?
The sisters warmly welcome Vivian to the mountain west, but the wild-and-woolly mining town isn’t ripe with opportunities for a respectable young woman. The youngest Sinclair sister is determined to make her own way, so when she’s offered a job as a hostess in a sporting house, she takes it, thinking the position is appropriate for a tainted, unlovable woman like herself. Although she’s convinced she’ll never be asked to entertain privately, Vivian keeps her employment a secret from her sisters, knowing they’d be mortified—as will Carter Alwyn, the kind and godly sheriff’s deputy who’s sweet on her.
Vivian is descending into a life of secrets, lying to the very people who love her and could help her heal from her mistakes. Will an outpouring of grace remind her that she is still God’s beloved and that her past can be washed as clean as Rocky Mountain snow?
So is it Vivian or Sheriff’s deputy Carter Alwyn who has need of the good Doc Susie’s services? And who is at fault?
I’m not telling . . . not just yet, anyway. The official release date for The Bride Wore Blue is Tuesday, May 8th, but you can pre-order your copy now.
No, our two-day getaway to the cabin swallowed Saturday. Seriously? Saturday night was DR. QUINN, MEDICINE WOMAN night, and the modest cabin didn’t allow for TV viewing.
Don’t get me wrong--we’re all about retreating from noise and hectic pace of small town life and breathing in the pine-scented tranquility the mountains have to offer, but miss viewing Dr. Quinn (Jane Seymour) and Sully (Joe Lando) in “real time?” Far too much to ask. No way.
Sure too bad about our annual drive up the mountain to view and photograph deer and elk. We had to find a place with good television reception. The nearest town was a mere twenty or thirty miles away. Never mind that we’d be driving back to the cabin in the dark . . . in the land of bears and deer and elk. Where, oh where, could we go to catch up with the unstoppable Dr. Michaela “Mike” Quinn and mountain man Bryon Sully? Remember, this was before televisions lines the walls of most eateries. So, we brainstormed our options. Department stores that sold televisions? Sports bars? Uh, not the kind of shows they broadcast.
Ah ha! Hospital rooms have televisions. Yep. Off we went to the hospital, put our dollar bills into the vending machine, and searched for an empty room with a TV. With no time to spare, we settled into the outpatient waiting room and historic Colorado Springs with the beloved cast of DR. QUINN, MEDICINE WOMAN.
Yes, it was a dreary day when that show was cancelled. But fast forward to 2012. I’m a historical novelist, writing Old West fiction for WaterBrook Press and I’m still fascinated with the role of female physicians in the 1800’s. It’s no wonder then that Colorado doctor, Susan Anderson known as Doc Susie, serves as my “real life” character in The Bride Wore Blue, Book Three in The Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek Series.
Headed toward a fresh start but tethered by her past, Vivian longs to break free, to find forgiveness and love.
At last, the sisters are reunited! The youngest Sinclair, the family “baby,” is moving from Maine to Cripple Creek, Colorado and joining Kat, Nell, and Ida. But Vivian is a young woman with a will of her own, and made some decisions back in Portland that have begun to haunt her. Will she be able to live up to the expectations of her three perfect and now happily-settled sisters?
The sisters warmly welcome Vivian to the mountain west, but the wild-and-woolly mining town isn’t ripe with opportunities for a respectable young woman. The youngest Sinclair sister is determined to make her own way, so when she’s offered a job as a hostess in a sporting house, she takes it, thinking the position is appropriate for a tainted, unlovable woman like herself. Although she’s convinced she’ll never be asked to entertain privately, Vivian keeps her employment a secret from her sisters, knowing they’d be mortified—as will Carter Alwyn, the kind and godly sheriff’s deputy who’s sweet on her.
Vivian is descending into a life of secrets, lying to the very people who love her and could help her heal from her mistakes. Will an outpouring of grace remind her that she is still God’s beloved and that her past can be washed as clean as Rocky Mountain snow?
So is it Vivian or Sheriff’s deputy Carter Alwyn who has need of the good Doc Susie’s services? And who is at fault?
I’m not telling . . . not just yet, anyway. The official release date for The Bride Wore Blue is Tuesday, May 8th, but you can pre-order your copy now.
Out Take: Chapter One, The Bride Wore Blue
For me, writing means rewriting. I’d written the first chapter for The Bride Wore Blue then decided it was “backstory.”
I chose instead to begin Vivian Sinclair’s story at a point of action, with her moving forward. But I kept the Out Take, and I thought you might enjoy a peek into Vivian’s past.
May 1897
Paris was her only option.
Vivian Sinclair lay across the windowpane crazy quilt on her bed. She needed to hear from Father again. Soon. Supported by her elbows, she revisited the handful of postcards he’d sent her from France, dreaming of the imminent day she would see those places for herself.
Once upon a time she was convinced that being the last child—the youngest—made her extra special. Thanks to Father and her three older sisters that’s how she’d felt as a little girl. And the only vivid memory she had of her mother supported her assumption. She’d crawl into bed beside Mama and listen to mother sing between the coughs that took her life.
My wee little one, youngest of my angels, God saved the sweetest angel for last.
Vivian had believed it. Until Gregory’s lies. Now that she’d grown up, she knew the truth: Being the youngest was a curse not a blessing. She could never live up to the standards her sisters’ had set. She’d made mistakes they would never make. No, she couldn’t go to Cripple Creek. She could face them. Neither could she remain in Portland.
She ran her index finger across the image of the sandy banks along the Seine River. She bent her finger at the water’s edge as if she could slide into the river finger-first and be washed clean.
A knock sounded on the door, and Vivian jumped up from the bed. “Just a—” Before she could stack her cards and finish her sentence, the flung door opened and her aunt stepped through the opening.
A strawberry-red braid crowned her aunt’s head like a halo. Aunt Alma glanced from Vivian to the rumpled quilt and back, her eyes narrowing. “You can’t mope around here forever. I say it was a rare act of chivalry that he let you off the hook when he did. Never trusted that weak chin of his. A sure sign he’s not the kind deserving of a prize like you.”
“I’m fine.” Vivian fanned the postcards and held them up. “I was only reclining and looking at Father’s writings to me.”
A slow smile deepened the laugh lines that framed her aunt’s green eyes. “Well then, I’d say I have superb timing.” She pulled a long envelope from the pocket on her duster and waved it like a banner. “I’ve just come from the post office.”
“A letter from Father?” Vivian’s heart hammered as she snatched the envelope and ran her finger along the seam.
“Dinner is nearly ready. You can read the letter to me while we eat.”
Vivian nodded. When she heard her aunt’s footfalls on the stairs, she closed the door and hurried to her bed. Vivian would miss her aunt and her sisters. She’d been anxious to meet her three brothers-in-law and her new niece, but Paris held her future. Living with Father would allow her a fresh start, a chance to pursue her dream of being a famous dress designer.
Perched on the foot of the bed, Vivian opened the envelope and slid out a piece of stationery much smaller than promised by its large packaging. She drew in a deep, hope-full breath, unfolded the sheet of paper, and began reading.
My dearest baby daughter,
Vivian sighed. Would her family ever regard her as anything but the baby?
I miss you and your sisters terribly. I would love nothing more than to gather all of my daughters around me for a Sunday supper and look on as the four of you engage in a Sinclair sisters’ checkers tournament.
Vivian felt her shoulders sag. She longed for that too. How she wished her life could return to those days before Kat and Nell left Maine as mail-order brides, bound for Cripple Creek. If only she could return to the days before Father’s job here changed and he had to go to Paris.
But, my dear daughter, I cannot bring you to Paris. I don’t live in the pictures in your head. My life here isn’t that which inspires the photographs in the postcards.
Her lips began to quiver. He was telling her no. She blinked hard against the tears blurring her eyes and forced herself to continue reading.
I live in an industrial district of smoke-belching factories populated by teamsters and longshoremen. Far from the romantic genteel Paris of your artistic sensitivities.
Vivian glanced at the window ledge where her cat slept then forced herself to finish reading.
It pains me to tell you no. Your mother would say I never was good at it. But, Vivian, you must join your sisters in Colorado. That’s where you belong. I am wiring the fare to your Aunt Alma, and she will see you safely to Cripple Creek.
All my love, Father
Vivian let the stationery flutter to the floor. If what her mother had taught her was true, God knew what she’d done and that where she belonged was far below Cripple Creek, Colorado.
http://monahodgson.wordpress.com/
I chose instead to begin Vivian Sinclair’s story at a point of action, with her moving forward. But I kept the Out Take, and I thought you might enjoy a peek into Vivian’s past.
May 1897
Paris was her only option.
Vivian Sinclair lay across the windowpane crazy quilt on her bed. She needed to hear from Father again. Soon. Supported by her elbows, she revisited the handful of postcards he’d sent her from France, dreaming of the imminent day she would see those places for herself.
Once upon a time she was convinced that being the last child—the youngest—made her extra special. Thanks to Father and her three older sisters that’s how she’d felt as a little girl. And the only vivid memory she had of her mother supported her assumption. She’d crawl into bed beside Mama and listen to mother sing between the coughs that took her life.
My wee little one, youngest of my angels, God saved the sweetest angel for last.
Vivian had believed it. Until Gregory’s lies. Now that she’d grown up, she knew the truth: Being the youngest was a curse not a blessing. She could never live up to the standards her sisters’ had set. She’d made mistakes they would never make. No, she couldn’t go to Cripple Creek. She could face them. Neither could she remain in Portland.
She ran her index finger across the image of the sandy banks along the Seine River. She bent her finger at the water’s edge as if she could slide into the river finger-first and be washed clean.
A knock sounded on the door, and Vivian jumped up from the bed. “Just a—” Before she could stack her cards and finish her sentence, the flung door opened and her aunt stepped through the opening.
A strawberry-red braid crowned her aunt’s head like a halo. Aunt Alma glanced from Vivian to the rumpled quilt and back, her eyes narrowing. “You can’t mope around here forever. I say it was a rare act of chivalry that he let you off the hook when he did. Never trusted that weak chin of his. A sure sign he’s not the kind deserving of a prize like you.”
“I’m fine.” Vivian fanned the postcards and held them up. “I was only reclining and looking at Father’s writings to me.”
A slow smile deepened the laugh lines that framed her aunt’s green eyes. “Well then, I’d say I have superb timing.” She pulled a long envelope from the pocket on her duster and waved it like a banner. “I’ve just come from the post office.”
“A letter from Father?” Vivian’s heart hammered as she snatched the envelope and ran her finger along the seam.
“Dinner is nearly ready. You can read the letter to me while we eat.”
Vivian nodded. When she heard her aunt’s footfalls on the stairs, she closed the door and hurried to her bed. Vivian would miss her aunt and her sisters. She’d been anxious to meet her three brothers-in-law and her new niece, but Paris held her future. Living with Father would allow her a fresh start, a chance to pursue her dream of being a famous dress designer.
Perched on the foot of the bed, Vivian opened the envelope and slid out a piece of stationery much smaller than promised by its large packaging. She drew in a deep, hope-full breath, unfolded the sheet of paper, and began reading.
My dearest baby daughter,
Vivian sighed. Would her family ever regard her as anything but the baby?
I miss you and your sisters terribly. I would love nothing more than to gather all of my daughters around me for a Sunday supper and look on as the four of you engage in a Sinclair sisters’ checkers tournament.
Vivian felt her shoulders sag. She longed for that too. How she wished her life could return to those days before Kat and Nell left Maine as mail-order brides, bound for Cripple Creek. If only she could return to the days before Father’s job here changed and he had to go to Paris.
But, my dear daughter, I cannot bring you to Paris. I don’t live in the pictures in your head. My life here isn’t that which inspires the photographs in the postcards.
Her lips began to quiver. He was telling her no. She blinked hard against the tears blurring her eyes and forced herself to continue reading.
I live in an industrial district of smoke-belching factories populated by teamsters and longshoremen. Far from the romantic genteel Paris of your artistic sensitivities.
Vivian glanced at the window ledge where her cat slept then forced herself to finish reading.
It pains me to tell you no. Your mother would say I never was good at it. But, Vivian, you must join your sisters in Colorado. That’s where you belong. I am wiring the fare to your Aunt Alma, and she will see you safely to Cripple Creek.
All my love, Father
Vivian let the stationery flutter to the floor. If what her mother had taught her was true, God knew what she’d done and that where she belonged was far below Cripple Creek, Colorado.
http://monahodgson.wordpress.com/
Real Life Cripple Creek Woman
The fascinating women of the 1800s were not dissimilar to you and I, even though their circumstances varied greatly and required extra doses of pluck. They loved and lost. They laughed and cried. They tried and failed. Many tried again and were victorious. Relationships and community mattered to them. Faith played an important role in their strength and resiliency.
Mollie Kathleen Gortner was one of those women in Cripple Creek, Colorado.
In the spring of 1891, Mollie Kathleen’s son Perry left their home in Colorado Springs as a surveyor to map mining claims in Cripple Creek. All he talked about was the gold there. Wanting to see for herself what the fuss was all about, Mollie Kathleen loaded the family wagon with supplies and joined other wagons headed to Cripple Creek. She set up housekeeping in the log and canvas tent Perry had recently completed.
One day that September, Perry returned home from surveying with stories about seeing a huge herd of elk. Again, Mollie Kathleen decided to go out and see for herself. But she never made it up high enough to see the elk. When Mollie Kathleen stopped to rest, she looked downward and noticed an interesting rock formation winking at her. Pure gold laced in quartz. Having seen several prospectors in the area, Mollie Kathleen forced herself to remain calm and hid the ore sample in her clothing.
Consequently, Mrs. Mollie Kathleen Gortner became the first woman in the Cripple Creek District to discover gold and strike a claim in her own name.
Although Mollie Kathleen staked the claim and owned the mine, it was her son Perry who kept an office out at the Mollie Kathleen Mine. As soon as Mollie Kathleen would set foot on the mine site, the miners would scramble up out of the tunnels. Turns out they were a superstitious lot who refused to be caught in a one-thousand-foot vertical shaft with a woman on the grounds.
In each of the four Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek novels, readers meet at least one real-life woman from Cripple Creek history. I introduced Mary Claver Coleman, the Reverend Mother of the Sisters of Mercy, in Two Brides Too Many. In Too Rich for a Bride, business entrepreneur Mollie O’Bryan helped add layers to Ida Sinclair’s journey. Doctor Susan Anderson, known as Doc Susie, came alongside our cast of fictional characters in The Bride Wore Blue. Mollie Kathleen Gortner is the primary real-life woman in Twice a Bride. Like the women in the previous stories, Mollie Kathleen’s portrayal in the story is a fictionalization.
I begin with fact—what I can learn about the woman from research. Then starting with what I know about “her story,” I figure out where her experience might intersect with my main characters in their story.
As a secondary character in Twice a Bride, Mollie Kathleen Gortner plays a pivotal role in Trenton Van Der Veer’s adjustment as a businessman in the Cripple Creek Mining District. Mollie Kathleen also serves as an inspiration to newcomer Willow Raines Peterson, a widow in search of a fresh start.
Fun Fact: The Mollie Kathleen Mine on the outskirt of Cripple Creek, Colorado is open to the public and offers underground tours into the 1,000 foot vertical mine shaft. See what life was like for the Old West hard rock miner. A fun and educational summer stop for families. For more information on the mine and the tour season, go to: http://www.goldminetours.com/goldmine....
Have you visited a mine? Gone into an underground mine? Which one?
© 2012 Mona Hodgson, Author and Speaker
Mollie Kathleen Gortner was one of those women in Cripple Creek, Colorado.
In the spring of 1891, Mollie Kathleen’s son Perry left their home in Colorado Springs as a surveyor to map mining claims in Cripple Creek. All he talked about was the gold there. Wanting to see for herself what the fuss was all about, Mollie Kathleen loaded the family wagon with supplies and joined other wagons headed to Cripple Creek. She set up housekeeping in the log and canvas tent Perry had recently completed.
One day that September, Perry returned home from surveying with stories about seeing a huge herd of elk. Again, Mollie Kathleen decided to go out and see for herself. But she never made it up high enough to see the elk. When Mollie Kathleen stopped to rest, she looked downward and noticed an interesting rock formation winking at her. Pure gold laced in quartz. Having seen several prospectors in the area, Mollie Kathleen forced herself to remain calm and hid the ore sample in her clothing.
Consequently, Mrs. Mollie Kathleen Gortner became the first woman in the Cripple Creek District to discover gold and strike a claim in her own name.
Although Mollie Kathleen staked the claim and owned the mine, it was her son Perry who kept an office out at the Mollie Kathleen Mine. As soon as Mollie Kathleen would set foot on the mine site, the miners would scramble up out of the tunnels. Turns out they were a superstitious lot who refused to be caught in a one-thousand-foot vertical shaft with a woman on the grounds.
In each of the four Sinclair Sisters of Cripple Creek novels, readers meet at least one real-life woman from Cripple Creek history. I introduced Mary Claver Coleman, the Reverend Mother of the Sisters of Mercy, in Two Brides Too Many. In Too Rich for a Bride, business entrepreneur Mollie O’Bryan helped add layers to Ida Sinclair’s journey. Doctor Susan Anderson, known as Doc Susie, came alongside our cast of fictional characters in The Bride Wore Blue. Mollie Kathleen Gortner is the primary real-life woman in Twice a Bride. Like the women in the previous stories, Mollie Kathleen’s portrayal in the story is a fictionalization.
I begin with fact—what I can learn about the woman from research. Then starting with what I know about “her story,” I figure out where her experience might intersect with my main characters in their story.
As a secondary character in Twice a Bride, Mollie Kathleen Gortner plays a pivotal role in Trenton Van Der Veer’s adjustment as a businessman in the Cripple Creek Mining District. Mollie Kathleen also serves as an inspiration to newcomer Willow Raines Peterson, a widow in search of a fresh start.
Fun Fact: The Mollie Kathleen Mine on the outskirt of Cripple Creek, Colorado is open to the public and offers underground tours into the 1,000 foot vertical mine shaft. See what life was like for the Old West hard rock miner. A fun and educational summer stop for families. For more information on the mine and the tour season, go to: http://www.goldminetours.com/goldmine....
Have you visited a mine? Gone into an underground mine? Which one?
© 2012 Mona Hodgson, Author and Speaker
