Eva Marie Everson's Blog, page 5
May 31, 2017
Do You Agree?
Some days, we need to be reminded.Some days, we need to choose.Some days, maybe even most days, we remind ourselves to choose. This day--THIS DAY--will be a good day.
May 18, 2017
Meet the Characters: Maeve and Claudette
Have you ever felt like you were "less than" those around you? Possibly even a best friend ... or two?
When I created the protagonist for my novelThe One True Love of Alice-Ann, I knew I'd need a friend (or two) to help Alice-Ann express her "less than" complex. For sixteen-year-old Alice-Ann, life's unfair hand dealt to her is not just that her brother is the cute one ... the funny one ... the one with the new bride who is--wouldn't you know it--beautiful as well. So I created Maeve and Claudette. Together with Alice-Ann,they enjoy the friendship so typical of girls in the early 1940s.Like Alice-Ann, Maeve and Claudette grow up rather quickly, thanks in part to the war. But in spite of being beautiful and (in Claudette's case) more financially blessed, they are loyal to a fault. They are the kind of friends we all hope to have and want to be.I found several photos of young girls from that era as I began to develop the two best friends, but the one shown here was the one I kept nearby as I wrote. The brunette is Maeve and the blonde is Claudette.Now that you've met them, let's read a little excerpt from the book:The girls gulped down the sweet milk, then grabbed the cases they’d left with their coats and ran up the stairs.“I wonder where Irene is,” Maeve said when they’d reached the landing.“No telling, knowing her,” Claudette answered as Alice-Ann shushed them both.“Be careful. These walls have ears, you know.”“No worries, doll. She’s not here,” Claudette said.The friends flew into the bedroom and Alice-Ann closed the door. “How do you know?” she asked.“Because. I saw her walking into Carter’s Department Store when the bus drove us through town.”Alice-Ann nearly dropped her books onto her narrow desk near the window. “You did? Wonder what she’s doing there?”“If you saw her, Claudette,” Maeve put in, her voice holding doubt, “why did you say you didn’t know where she was at?”Claudette placed her books and suitcase on the chenille-covered bed, which wobbled beneath the weight. “Because, Maeve . . .” Claudette rolled her eyes playfully. “I don’t know where she is, I only know where she isn’t.”Alice-Ann crossed her arms. “I wish she liked me better. Or even a little.”“Maybe,” Maeve pondered, “she was at Carter’s to buy you something for your birthday.”“No. She and Nelson gave me my present the night of—well, on the night of my birthday.” Nelson, who’d always been gifted with woodwork, had made five clothes hangers for her, each one monogrammed with her initials.“Maybe she’s Christmas shopping,” Maeve added. “Only a few days left, you know.”Claudette tossed her hands into the air. “Who knows and who cares? Come on, girls. We’ve got to come up with a plan of action to make sure our Alice-Ann here has loads of time with one Boyd MacKay before the night’s over.”Alice-Ann tingled at the thought. “Well, one thing’s for sure, it’s too cold to meander outside.”Maeve sat on the bed. “Maybe you could offer him a glass of punch and he’ll walk over to the table with you and then you can tell him.”“With Aunt Bess not a foot away?” Claudette said. “No. What you need to do, Alice-Ann, is offer him a cup of coffee. He’s going off to the war soon. He’s a man who drinks coffee now.” She cut her eyes toward the ceiling. “Probably black. No milk. No sugar.”“Because he’s sweet enough,” Maeve said with a giggle, which brought a smile to Alice-Ann’s lips as well.Claudette wasn’t to be deterred. “Ask Aunt Bess if you can go to the kitchen to prepare it . . . he’ll follow you . . . and . . .” Her eyes lit up as she raised her arms, pretending to wrap them around a man’s shoulders. “You’ll say, ‘Mack, my darling—”Alice-Ann and Maeve giggled again. “You watch too many movies, Claudette,” Maeve said.“A hopeless romantic is what I am,” she said, then fell across the bed on her back, her arms crossed over herself as if she were in a passionate embrace. She quickly raised herself up on her elbows. “Hey. Speaking of gorgeous, have either of you had a gander at the new manager of Walker’s Inn?”Both girls shook their heads.“He came to church last Sunday. Dreamy, I tell you. Positively dreamy.” She fell against the bed again with a sigh. “A living doll and the living end.”“I’m a Baptist,” Maeve said, opening her suitcase and bringing out her dress, which she fluffed in the air. “We don’t sit in church dreaming about men, no matter how good-looking they are, while we’re supposed to be listening to the preacher.”“Well, I’m Methodist, Maeve Hillis, and we are free thinkers.”Alice-Ann moved to the bed, anxious to change the subject. The way the people in town carried on—the Baptists and the Methodists—one would think they were of different faiths entirely. Like the Lewens, who ran the finer of the two clothing stores in town, but who had to drive all the way to Savannah each and every Saturday to worship, leaving their store in the care of their employees. The way Alice-Ann saw it, all believers in Christ shared a common bond that should more than outweigh their outward differences.“Come on, city girls,” she said. “Both of you, show me your dresses, and then I’ll show you mine.”The words were barely out of her mouth when the sound of a car rolling up the dirt driveway stopped her from walking to the closet. Instead, she moved to the window, pushed back the thick muslin curtains and peered out. “Irene’s back.”“Lucky her, having a car,” Claudette said, coming up behind her. “Daddy says he’ll buy one for me, he just won’t say when.”
When I created the protagonist for my novelThe One True Love of Alice-Ann, I knew I'd need a friend (or two) to help Alice-Ann express her "less than" complex. For sixteen-year-old Alice-Ann, life's unfair hand dealt to her is not just that her brother is the cute one ... the funny one ... the one with the new bride who is--wouldn't you know it--beautiful as well. So I created Maeve and Claudette. Together with Alice-Ann,they enjoy the friendship so typical of girls in the early 1940s.Like Alice-Ann, Maeve and Claudette grow up rather quickly, thanks in part to the war. But in spite of being beautiful and (in Claudette's case) more financially blessed, they are loyal to a fault. They are the kind of friends we all hope to have and want to be.I found several photos of young girls from that era as I began to develop the two best friends, but the one shown here was the one I kept nearby as I wrote. The brunette is Maeve and the blonde is Claudette.Now that you've met them, let's read a little excerpt from the book:The girls gulped down the sweet milk, then grabbed the cases they’d left with their coats and ran up the stairs.“I wonder where Irene is,” Maeve said when they’d reached the landing.“No telling, knowing her,” Claudette answered as Alice-Ann shushed them both.“Be careful. These walls have ears, you know.”“No worries, doll. She’s not here,” Claudette said.The friends flew into the bedroom and Alice-Ann closed the door. “How do you know?” she asked.“Because. I saw her walking into Carter’s Department Store when the bus drove us through town.”Alice-Ann nearly dropped her books onto her narrow desk near the window. “You did? Wonder what she’s doing there?”“If you saw her, Claudette,” Maeve put in, her voice holding doubt, “why did you say you didn’t know where she was at?”Claudette placed her books and suitcase on the chenille-covered bed, which wobbled beneath the weight. “Because, Maeve . . .” Claudette rolled her eyes playfully. “I don’t know where she is, I only know where she isn’t.”Alice-Ann crossed her arms. “I wish she liked me better. Or even a little.”“Maybe,” Maeve pondered, “she was at Carter’s to buy you something for your birthday.”“No. She and Nelson gave me my present the night of—well, on the night of my birthday.” Nelson, who’d always been gifted with woodwork, had made five clothes hangers for her, each one monogrammed with her initials.“Maybe she’s Christmas shopping,” Maeve added. “Only a few days left, you know.”Claudette tossed her hands into the air. “Who knows and who cares? Come on, girls. We’ve got to come up with a plan of action to make sure our Alice-Ann here has loads of time with one Boyd MacKay before the night’s over.”Alice-Ann tingled at the thought. “Well, one thing’s for sure, it’s too cold to meander outside.”Maeve sat on the bed. “Maybe you could offer him a glass of punch and he’ll walk over to the table with you and then you can tell him.”“With Aunt Bess not a foot away?” Claudette said. “No. What you need to do, Alice-Ann, is offer him a cup of coffee. He’s going off to the war soon. He’s a man who drinks coffee now.” She cut her eyes toward the ceiling. “Probably black. No milk. No sugar.”“Because he’s sweet enough,” Maeve said with a giggle, which brought a smile to Alice-Ann’s lips as well.Claudette wasn’t to be deterred. “Ask Aunt Bess if you can go to the kitchen to prepare it . . . he’ll follow you . . . and . . .” Her eyes lit up as she raised her arms, pretending to wrap them around a man’s shoulders. “You’ll say, ‘Mack, my darling—”Alice-Ann and Maeve giggled again. “You watch too many movies, Claudette,” Maeve said.“A hopeless romantic is what I am,” she said, then fell across the bed on her back, her arms crossed over herself as if she were in a passionate embrace. She quickly raised herself up on her elbows. “Hey. Speaking of gorgeous, have either of you had a gander at the new manager of Walker’s Inn?”Both girls shook their heads.“He came to church last Sunday. Dreamy, I tell you. Positively dreamy.” She fell against the bed again with a sigh. “A living doll and the living end.”“I’m a Baptist,” Maeve said, opening her suitcase and bringing out her dress, which she fluffed in the air. “We don’t sit in church dreaming about men, no matter how good-looking they are, while we’re supposed to be listening to the preacher.”“Well, I’m Methodist, Maeve Hillis, and we are free thinkers.”Alice-Ann moved to the bed, anxious to change the subject. The way the people in town carried on—the Baptists and the Methodists—one would think they were of different faiths entirely. Like the Lewens, who ran the finer of the two clothing stores in town, but who had to drive all the way to Savannah each and every Saturday to worship, leaving their store in the care of their employees. The way Alice-Ann saw it, all believers in Christ shared a common bond that should more than outweigh their outward differences.“Come on, city girls,” she said. “Both of you, show me your dresses, and then I’ll show you mine.”The words were barely out of her mouth when the sound of a car rolling up the dirt driveway stopped her from walking to the closet. Instead, she moved to the window, pushed back the thick muslin curtains and peered out. “Irene’s back.”“Lucky her, having a car,” Claudette said, coming up behind her. “Daddy says he’ll buy one for me, he just won’t say when.”
April 25, 2017
Meet the Characters: Aunt Bess
I "knew" Aunt Bess long before I began writing this book.
I have always adored "classic" movies. Years ago, I watched the Doris Day/Frank Sinatra flick "Young At Heart," in which Ethel Barrymore played the role of a spinster aunt living with her brother and his three daughters. Aunt Jessie was sharp and sassy and full of love and no-nonsense character.
Initially, I named Aunt Bess "Aunt Kay," then realized about halfway through the manuscript that "Aunt Kay" was too much like Boyd MacKay. I struggled with a new name, but when I came across "Bess," I loved it. Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.
I wanted Aunt Bess to be loving and lovely but not someone Alice-Ann would want to end up like (namely, unmarried). The decision that Aunt Bess would choose to not marry her beau from World War I wounded my heart. Some decision are difficult to make, and her choice to stay single was exactly that. I don't think there are many young women from those days who didn't fret over the lack of a proposal from another man should they say "no" to someone offering them a married life.
But a married life is not always a happy or fulfilled life. It can be quite miserable. Better to have loved and lost ...
Aunt Bess gives Alice-Ann a scripture to hold on to and tells her to pray. Sometimes, when we go to God in prayer, however, to seek His will for our lives, we are really trying to convince God that our thoughts and ideas are the way to go.
But God cannot be manipulated. Aunt Bess understood that. Alice-Ann had to learn it.
Enjoy the following scene with Aunt Bess, who always called Alice-Ann, simply, "Alice." Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.
Excerpt begins:
“Alice,” Aunt Bess said, her piercing brown eyes never leaving her handwork. “We’ve managed to eat a cold lunch, and Irene and I have gotten the kitchen cleaned up, and all so your party can start on time without a hitch. Your friends will arrive within the next two hours.” Only then did she glance up and cock a brow. “So why don’t you go check the back room and make sure everything is set up like you want for your party and stop worrying your daddy. Least you could do, considering how much Brother hates cold cuts for lunch especially on a day as nippy as this one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alice-Ann stepped back, pulled the sides of the plum-colored dress Aunt Bess had made special for her celebration, and spun around. “But before I do, what do you think, Aunt Bess?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “Do I look all grown up like you said I would?”
Aunt Bess had returned her attention to her knitting, but stopped long enough to size her up, she gave Alice-Ann a generous wink. “You’ll do in a pinch,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, Aunt Bess,” Alice-Ann leaned over to give her maiden aunt a tight squeeze, but not without protest from the family’s matriarch. “I’m absolutely about to burst with excitement about my party.” She kissed Aunt Bess’s dry cheek, which with Aunt Bess’s size, also tended to be fleshy. “Thank you for convincing Papa.”
“Stop this foolishness now,” Aunt Bess said, her voice filled with a lilt. “You’ll ruin this afghan I’m working on.”
Alice-Ann pulled herself away. “Yes’m. I’ll go check on things.” Not only because her aunt had asked, but more because she wanted everything to be perfect. Better than perfect. Because tonight—oh, tonight. Tonight, when everyone was laughing and dancing and drinking punch and eating Aunt Bess’s cake, she’d tell Mack—Boyd MacKay to be exact, the most handsome man alive and one of her brother’s best friends—that she’d loved him since she’d been a girl of twelve and that, if he’d only give her a chance, she’d devote herself to loving him for eternity. And if he turned her down, she’d . . . she’d . . . well, she’d be relentless.
I have always adored "classic" movies. Years ago, I watched the Doris Day/Frank Sinatra flick "Young At Heart," in which Ethel Barrymore played the role of a spinster aunt living with her brother and his three daughters. Aunt Jessie was sharp and sassy and full of love and no-nonsense character.
Initially, I named Aunt Bess "Aunt Kay," then realized about halfway through the manuscript that "Aunt Kay" was too much like Boyd MacKay. I struggled with a new name, but when I came across "Bess," I loved it. Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.
I wanted Aunt Bess to be loving and lovely but not someone Alice-Ann would want to end up like (namely, unmarried). The decision that Aunt Bess would choose to not marry her beau from World War I wounded my heart. Some decision are difficult to make, and her choice to stay single was exactly that. I don't think there are many young women from those days who didn't fret over the lack of a proposal from another man should they say "no" to someone offering them a married life.
But a married life is not always a happy or fulfilled life. It can be quite miserable. Better to have loved and lost ...
Aunt Bess gives Alice-Ann a scripture to hold on to and tells her to pray. Sometimes, when we go to God in prayer, however, to seek His will for our lives, we are really trying to convince God that our thoughts and ideas are the way to go.
But God cannot be manipulated. Aunt Bess understood that. Alice-Ann had to learn it.
Enjoy the following scene with Aunt Bess, who always called Alice-Ann, simply, "Alice." Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.
Excerpt begins:
“Alice,” Aunt Bess said, her piercing brown eyes never leaving her handwork. “We’ve managed to eat a cold lunch, and Irene and I have gotten the kitchen cleaned up, and all so your party can start on time without a hitch. Your friends will arrive within the next two hours.” Only then did she glance up and cock a brow. “So why don’t you go check the back room and make sure everything is set up like you want for your party and stop worrying your daddy. Least you could do, considering how much Brother hates cold cuts for lunch especially on a day as nippy as this one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alice-Ann stepped back, pulled the sides of the plum-colored dress Aunt Bess had made special for her celebration, and spun around. “But before I do, what do you think, Aunt Bess?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “Do I look all grown up like you said I would?”
Aunt Bess had returned her attention to her knitting, but stopped long enough to size her up, she gave Alice-Ann a generous wink. “You’ll do in a pinch,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, Aunt Bess,” Alice-Ann leaned over to give her maiden aunt a tight squeeze, but not without protest from the family’s matriarch. “I’m absolutely about to burst with excitement about my party.” She kissed Aunt Bess’s dry cheek, which with Aunt Bess’s size, also tended to be fleshy. “Thank you for convincing Papa.”
“Stop this foolishness now,” Aunt Bess said, her voice filled with a lilt. “You’ll ruin this afghan I’m working on.”
Alice-Ann pulled herself away. “Yes’m. I’ll go check on things.” Not only because her aunt had asked, but more because she wanted everything to be perfect. Better than perfect. Because tonight—oh, tonight. Tonight, when everyone was laughing and dancing and drinking punch and eating Aunt Bess’s cake, she’d tell Mack—Boyd MacKay to be exact, the most handsome man alive and one of her brother’s best friends—that she’d loved him since she’d been a girl of twelve and that, if he’d only give her a chance, she’d devote herself to loving him for eternity. And if he turned her down, she’d . . . she’d . . . well, she’d be relentless.
Meet the Characters of "Alice-Ann": Aunt Bess
I "knew" Aunt Bess long before I began writing this book.I have always adored "classic" movies. Years ago, I watched the Doris Day/Frank Sinatra flick "Young At Heart," in which Ethel Barrymore played the role of a spinster aunt living with her brother and his three daughters. Aunt Jessie was sharp and sassy and full of love and no-nonsense character.Initially, I named Aunt Bess "Aunt Kay," then realized about halfway through the manuscript that "Aunt Kay" was too much like Boyd MacKay. I struggled with a new name, but when I came across "Bess," I loved it. Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.I wanted Aunt Bess to be loving and lovely but not someone Alice-Ann would want to end up like (namely, unmarried). The decision that Aunt Bess would choose tonotmarry her beau from World War I wounded my heart. Some decision are difficult to make, and her choice to stay single was exactly that. I don't think there are many young women from those days who didn't fret over the lack of a proposal from another man should they say "no" to someone offering them a married life.But amarried lifeis not always ahappyorfulfilled life.It can be quite miserable.Better to have loved and lost ...Aunt Bess gives Alice-Ann a scripture to hold on to and tells her to pray. Sometimes, when we go to God in prayer, however, to seek His will for our lives, we are really trying to convince God that our thoughts and ideas aretheway to go.But God cannot be manipulated. Aunt Bess understood that. Alice-Ann had to learn it.Enjoy the following scene with Aunt Bess, who always called Alice-Ann, simply, "Alice." Sharp. Sassy. No-nonsense.
Excerpt begins:“Alice,” Aunt Bess said, her piercing brown eyes never leaving her handwork. “We’ve managed to eat a cold lunch, and Irene and I have gotten the kitchen cleaned up, and all so your party can start on time without a hitch. Your friends will arrive within the next two hours.” Only then did she glance up and cock a brow. “So why don’t you go check the back room and make sure everything is set up like you want for your party and stop worrying your daddy. Least you could do, considering how much Brother hates cold cuts for lunch especially on a day as nippy as this one.”“Yes, ma’am.” Alice-Ann stepped back, pulled the sides of the plum-colored dress Aunt Bess had made special for her celebration, and spun around. “But before I do, what do you think, Aunt Bess?” she asked, keeping her voice down. “Do I look all grown up like you said I would?”Aunt Bess had returned her attention to her knitting, but stopped long enough to size her up, she gave Alice-Ann a generous wink. “You’ll do in a pinch,” she said with a smile.“Oh, Aunt Bess,” Alice-Ann leaned over to give her maiden aunt a tight squeeze, but not without protest from the family’s matriarch. “I’m absolutely about to burst with excitement about my party.” She kissed Aunt Bess’s dry cheek, which with Aunt Bess’s size, also tended to be fleshy. “Thank you for convincing Papa.”“Stop this foolishness now,” Aunt Bess said, her voice filled with a lilt. “You’ll ruin this afghan I’m working on.”Alice-Ann pulled herself away. “Yes’m. I’ll go check on things.” Not only because her aunt had asked, but more because she wanted everything to be perfect. Better than perfect. Because tonight—oh, tonight. Tonight, when everyone was laughing and dancing and drinking punch and eating Aunt Bess’s cake, she’d tell Mack—Boyd MacKay to be exact, the most handsome man alive and one of her brother’s best friends—that she’d loved him since she’d been a girl of twelve and that, if he’d only give her a chance, she’d devote herself to loving him for eternity. And if he turned her down, she’d . . . she’d . . . well, she’d berelentless.
April 17, 2017
Meet the Characters: The Cottage
Sometimes I sit back and let my characters talk.In all honestly, that's how the cottage came to be. Alice-Ann and Carlton were speaking ... getting to know each other on a deeper level than they'd known each other previously ... and Alice-Ann mentioned a house in town she liked."A cottage, really," she said.If I go back and look at my character sketch for Alice-Ann, I can't find a single mention of "the cottage." But there it was. She'd said it and ... yep. There it was.And so (and I remember it clearly), after a day of self-editing, I decided thatIliked the cottage idea as much as Alice-Ann. All mentions of the house / cottage would remain within the manuscript.I also remember the day I began searching for the cottage online. I found one that pretty much "fit the bill," but it wasn't until after I'd written the scene that I found EXACTLY what I'd pictured in my mind. THE cottage ... the way it would lookafterAlice-Ann and Carlton put their backs and sweat equity into it.So, here it is (above). THE cottage. What do you think? Is it what you thought it would be?Now, here's the really fun part. When the editors at Tyndale read the book, and the marketing team (those geniuses!) read the book, they came together and came up with the most fun contest:My One True Cottagecontest. If you are on Pinterest (and who isn't???), you should check it out.Book excerpt:
Carlton’s brow shot up. “I’m suddenly very glad I’m a city kid.”“City? Ha. Ha.”A light blush kissed his cheeks. “All right. Bynum’s a mite of a town, I grant you, but it’s still not the country.”“The country’s not so bad.”“I know . . .”“But, if I could . . .” Her words had come too easily, she realized, so she allowed the hidden wish to slip into the sunshine and fresh air that had now filled the room.“You’d?”She giggled. “It’s silly. I can’t even believe I almost said it.”Carlton grinned. “Tell me.”“You know,” she drawled while reaching for the book on the floor, “I’m supposed to be reading to you.”“Tell me,” he coaxed.She opened the book, the paper sighing as she turned to the first page. Alice-Ann cleared her throat, preparing her voice for the words.“Alice-Ann.”She looked up. “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” she said. “It came out last year and I had to get on a waiting list at the library. Picked it up yesterday afternoon—”“Alice-Ann,” he repeated her name, his voice rising in a question. “Tell. Me.”She closed the book. “All right, but you’ll think I’m silly.”“I promise not to make fun of you.”“Well . . . all right.” She sighed. “If you promise.”“Cross my heart,” he said, imitating the words, “and hope to die.”“All right, then. See, there’s this … house. A cottage, really.”Carlton used the strength of his arms and fists to shift in the bed, to face her better. “Where?”“Near Nancy and Harry’s. You remember them, right?”He chuckled. “I lost my sight, not my memory.”“I’m sorry.”“Don’t be. Go on. Nancy and Harry. Cottage.”He wanted to hear. Carlton Hillis truly desired to know her thoughts. Her dreams. A first, for sure. Not even Mack had. Not really. Not ever. Alice-Ann had written to him, she’d shared, but he’d never come out and asked. Or even coaxed her as Carlton seemed to do now. “It’s in disrepair. Slight, but still, it’s in disrepair. No one’s lived in it—Nancy says—for ten years or more. But, it’s so . . . cute.”“Cute?”She laughed again. “It is.”“A house that’s cute.”“A cottage, really,” she reiterated, hoping that the words “cottage” and “cute” used together kept her from sounding completely idiotic. After all, Carlton had been in college when his sense of American pride had taken over and he’d enlisted. “He’s so smart, that Carlton,” she’d heard a thousand times or more, followed by the typical, “Always has been.”“What’s so cute about it?” he asked. The tone of his voice made her feel more girl than woman, but somehow less silly.
April 13, 2017
Meet the Characters "Carlton"
I created (and fell in love with) Carlton Hillis.When I started my work onThe One True Love of Alice-Ann, I knew that Alice-Ann’s older brother, Nelson, would have two best friends, both of who went into the armed services when the U.S. went to war after December 7, 1941.Mack, of course, was Alice-Ann’s “one true love.” The problem was … he didn’t know it.Carlton was the brother of Alice-Ann’s best friend, Maeve. Both he and Mack are five years older than Alice-Ann and consider her to be a “kid sister.”When Mack and Carlton leave Bynum, Alice-Ann is a somewhat immature sixteen-year-old. But when Carlton returns, badly injured from the war, she is eighteen with the maturity of a twenty-four-year-old.War does that. It ages us.I found myself somewhat startled the first time Carlton called Alice-Ann “Doodlebug” as a nickname. I hadn’t seen it coming. I had spent a lot of time developing him as a character knowing that he would be the one to steal Alice-Ann’s heart (and send it into confusion—when a girl thinks she’s in love with one man only to find herself falling in love with another … it’s confusing!). But I had no idea just how charming he’d become.Looking back, I think this is because I stripped him of the use of his eyes and legs and found no anger. His only hint of bitterness came from the hero’s welcome the town placed on him and, because of that, the fear of losing his one true love.So now, let me confess. The first time Carlton gave Alice-Ann goosebumps, he gave me goosebumps. And, he gave my critique partner, Sandie Bricker, goosebumps. We both giggled like schoolgirls over the scene you’re about to read.Enjoy.Scene begins:They climbed the three cement steps from the sidewalk to the walkway cutting the lawn into two patches of dark-green weeds. “And the lawn could use some reseeding,” she added.They stopped at the base of the front porch steps. Carlton used his cane to test them. “And some new boards here.”“I’m going up,” Alice-Ann said as she studied the splintered wood.“Up where?”“To the porch.”“Careful, now.”She took the first step, turned and looked at him. “Coming with me? Or are you going to let a little rotten wood frighten you?”Carlton’s eyes widened and his lips formed a round O as he shook his head. “Oh, young lady,” he said. “You may not know it, but I’ve met the enemy, and it ain’t some two-by-fours in need of replacing.”She giggled as she jogged up the remaining steps, hoping none of them collapsed beneath her—how embarrassing would that be?—and turned to look down at him as she crossed her arms. “Oh, really?”Carlton took each step carefully, his cane steady against the boards until he made it to theporch. “Glad you could join me,” Alice-Ann teased, then crossed to the picture window on the right side of the porch, cupped her hands around her face, and peered into the house. “This is the living room,” she said. Her eyes swept both the emptiness and the details. “Come over here and look at the woodwork, Carlton. Look at the gingerbread accents in the corners of the door leading to that room there. I think it’s the dining room.”Carlton stood beside her, imitating her stand. “Nice. And nice crown molding and baseboards,” he said. “And only about an inch of dust on the floorboards.”“That’s probably not all that’s on the floors,” she added with a frown.“Come,” he said, stepping away from her and walking over to the smaller window on the left side of the front door. She joined him and studied the glass as she came closer. A hairline crack ran diagonally across the top right corner. “This window would need fixing.”“Yes’m.”They looked in as they had before—hands cupped, faces against the pane. “I think this is the front bedroom,” she observed.“Kinda small.”Alice-Ann smiled. Compared to the tiny box he called his bedroom, the room was palatial, but she elected not to say anything. Since Carlton had been able to get out of bed, she’d not been in the intimacy of his room, and it felt awkward now talking about such things. “Well,” she said, her breath fogging the glass, “the whole house is small.”“A cottage, really,” he said.Alice-Ann pulled her face away from her hands to look at him. “You remember,” she whispered.He studied her without answering and she did the same, noting the tiny dimple in his chin. The crinkles around his eyes. The fullness of his lips.Oh. . .“I remember,” he said, and her eyes came back to his.She struggled to find her voice as she faced him fully. “How—how did you remember?”He shifted the canefrom his right hand to the left, then raised a finger to tap the tip of her nose. “I remember pretty much everything you say.”“You do?” Her voice squeaked, and inwardly, she cringed.Carlton leaned forward, his lips—those full lips she’d noticed only a moment ago as though she’d seen them for the first time in her life—brushed against her cheek, found her ear, and sent tiny gooseflesh down her arms. “I do,” he whispered. “Miss Alice-Ann.”
April 10, 2017
Meet the Characters in "The One True Love of Alice-Ann"/Alice-Ann
As soon as the story for "Alice-Ann" created itself in my mind, I knew that one of the first things I had to do wasfindAlice-Ann.The One True Love of Alice-Annopens on December 7, 1941. Alice-Ann Branch is 16on that day.She is excited about the party her father and Aunt Bess are throwing for her that evening, because 1) her friends will be there, and 2)thisis the night she plans to confess her love (crush) to her one of her brother's best friends, Boyd "Mack" MacKay, five years her senior.But as we all know, December 7, 1941 was the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and America was forced into WWII. Alice-Ann's party is ruined as is her opportunity to tell Mack how she feels.Most of the book takes place when Alice-Ann is a maturing (faster than typical, thanks to the war) 18/19-year-old. She works at the bank during the week and helps her father on the farm on Saturdays. Her two best friends, Claudette and Maeve, are, in every way, beautiful. Alice-Ann is, in her eyes, extremely plain, which is anything but true. She has light brown, frizzy hair. Her skin is fair and freckled. Her teeth are slightly crooked. Her eyes are hazel, which nearly wash her out. She's 5'5" and weighs 115 pounds (I don't think this is mentioned in the book, but fiction authors know a lot more than they share ...).
As I said, once I had her physical elements down, I needed tofindher. So I went online and searched for photos of teenage girls who lived in the early 1940s. The photo you see here is the same photo I kept nearby while I worked on the novel.I have no idea who she really is, but as soon as I saw her, I knewthiswas her.If you have readThe One True Love of Alice-Ann,tell me what you think. Does this photo come close to the girl you imaged?And now, a scene fromThe One True Love of Alice-Ann:“I saw Janie Wren. She’s working there now. Do you remember her?”“Pretty girl? Graduated with your class?”“Mine and Maeve’s. Mmm-hmm.”He grinned, then brought his hands up in the air to form a curvaceous figure. “I remember.”He whistled between his teeth and she swatted at him.“Oh, stop it.”Carlton had the good decency to blush. “Well, she is pretty. Or at least she was the last time I saw her.”Alice-Ann grimaced, feeling the old self-consciousness fly over her. “Ugh. She still—is.”His eyes squinted. “Do I sense the green-eyed monster?”“Maybe.”“And Janie’s beauty bothers you because . . .?”“Because I’m—not—truth be told—beautiful. Not by the longest stretch of the word. I can’t even be considered attractive.”He shook his head. “Alice-Ann, you’re a beautiful girl in your own right.”Alice-Ann couldn’t be sure which bothered her most, that Carlton had called her a “girl” or that he’d declared her beautiful “in her own right.”He raised both hands. “Wait. No. That didn’t sound right.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “What I meant to say was—”She waved her hand in the air to stop him. “Carlton Hillis. If you and I are going to be friends, then the least we can do is be honest with each other.”“Ah . . . then. What is this honesty you speak of?”“First of all, my hair is like a—a—Brillo pad.”“Hyperbole doesn’t look good on you, Miss Branch.”She leaned over. “And look at these teeth.” She made a horsey face.“I can’t quite make them out.” Carlton leaned back in his chair and shifted for comfort. “But I remember them. Front two. One laps a little over the other.”“Makes me look—buck-toothed!”“I’ve seen buck-toothed. Boy who was in basic with me. That boy had the teeth of a mule, which you don’t. Besides, it gives you character. What kind of person has perfect teeth anyway?”“Claudette. Maeve. You.”Carlton ran his index over his teeth. “Yep. Sure do, come to think of it. I am, therefore, a man without character.”Alice-Ann bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “And my face,” she continued, wondering what he might have to say about her freckles.“What’s wrong with your face?”“You can practically play Connect the Dots on my face.”“Again, hyperbole. A dash of freckles across the nose only serves to make you both cute and adorable.”Alice-Ann threw her hands up and flopped against the back of the sofa. “Cute? Three-year-old girls are cute and adorable, Carlton. Young women almost nineteen years of age don’t want to be known as . . . cute.” She sighed. “Or adorable.”The rhythm of Carlton’s breathing came slow and easy, as though he pondered something beyond Alice-Ann’s ability to reason. “So what happened that day?” he finally asked.
As I said, once I had her physical elements down, I needed tofindher. So I went online and searched for photos of teenage girls who lived in the early 1940s. The photo you see here is the same photo I kept nearby while I worked on the novel.I have no idea who she really is, but as soon as I saw her, I knewthiswas her.If you have readThe One True Love of Alice-Ann,tell me what you think. Does this photo come close to the girl you imaged?And now, a scene fromThe One True Love of Alice-Ann:“I saw Janie Wren. She’s working there now. Do you remember her?”“Pretty girl? Graduated with your class?”“Mine and Maeve’s. Mmm-hmm.”He grinned, then brought his hands up in the air to form a curvaceous figure. “I remember.”He whistled between his teeth and she swatted at him.“Oh, stop it.”Carlton had the good decency to blush. “Well, she is pretty. Or at least she was the last time I saw her.”Alice-Ann grimaced, feeling the old self-consciousness fly over her. “Ugh. She still—is.”His eyes squinted. “Do I sense the green-eyed monster?”“Maybe.”“And Janie’s beauty bothers you because . . .?”“Because I’m—not—truth be told—beautiful. Not by the longest stretch of the word. I can’t even be considered attractive.”He shook his head. “Alice-Ann, you’re a beautiful girl in your own right.”Alice-Ann couldn’t be sure which bothered her most, that Carlton had called her a “girl” or that he’d declared her beautiful “in her own right.”He raised both hands. “Wait. No. That didn’t sound right.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “What I meant to say was—”She waved her hand in the air to stop him. “Carlton Hillis. If you and I are going to be friends, then the least we can do is be honest with each other.”“Ah . . . then. What is this honesty you speak of?”“First of all, my hair is like a—a—Brillo pad.”“Hyperbole doesn’t look good on you, Miss Branch.”She leaned over. “And look at these teeth.” She made a horsey face.“I can’t quite make them out.” Carlton leaned back in his chair and shifted for comfort. “But I remember them. Front two. One laps a little over the other.”“Makes me look—buck-toothed!”“I’ve seen buck-toothed. Boy who was in basic with me. That boy had the teeth of a mule, which you don’t. Besides, it gives you character. What kind of person has perfect teeth anyway?”“Claudette. Maeve. You.”Carlton ran his index over his teeth. “Yep. Sure do, come to think of it. I am, therefore, a man without character.”Alice-Ann bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “And my face,” she continued, wondering what he might have to say about her freckles.“What’s wrong with your face?”“You can practically play Connect the Dots on my face.”“Again, hyperbole. A dash of freckles across the nose only serves to make you both cute and adorable.”Alice-Ann threw her hands up and flopped against the back of the sofa. “Cute? Three-year-old girls are cute and adorable, Carlton. Young women almost nineteen years of age don’t want to be known as . . . cute.” She sighed. “Or adorable.”The rhythm of Carlton’s breathing came slow and easy, as though he pondered something beyond Alice-Ann’s ability to reason. “So what happened that day?” he finally asked.
March 18, 2017
How "The One True Love of Alice-Ann" Began
I sat at my desk one afternoon, working hard on the edits my publisher had requested when the words "the one true love of Alice-Ann" rushed through my mind. I continued to work ... but the words came again. I grabbed a pen and wrote the words down so as to keep the momentum of my edits.But wouldn't you know it ... a creative rush came over me. A story's plot started ... then stopped. Then started again as a picture of Alice-Ann came to mind.Who was this girl? And why was she haunting me?So I started writing everything I knew about her. Her age (16), how she looked (pale skin, freckles across the nose, one front tooth overlaps the other, untamed hair), when she was born (December 7, 1925), and what she wants more than anything (the heart of Boyd MacKay).So what stops her? World War II.I wrote for hours, creating characters and their stories. Then I showed it to my critique partner. Then to my agent. They both loved it. My agent sent it to the editor at Tyndale. She loved it, too. A contract was offered and I now set about to write the story in such a way that readers would fall in love with Alice-Ann and Carlton (I haven't mentioned him yet...) as much as I had.Six months later I turned in the manuscript. A month later, I received my edits and two thumbs up from my editors. Yes! I made the corrections I needed to make and then ... and then ... waited. Waited for the day pre-release readers received the books and had "their say."So I cannot tell you what it means to read reviews such as this one. Because it means everything. And I hope--no, I pray--that post-release readers will feel the same way.
