"This is the house that the Hinkle sisters lived in, and that's the muddy river where Thomas and Jackie fished together." Joyce Hostetter pointed out the car window as we drove around around her hometown, Hickory, NC--the setting for her Bakers Mountain Series. "See that old building? That's the hosiery factory where Junior worked for a few days. Over there is where the car mechanic lived who helped him fix his truck."
The Honeycutt family and their friends, who already had a special place in my heart from reading AIM, BLUE, COMFORT,DRIVE and EQUAL, became even more real as I saw the places where they lived, played, and worked--all within sight of Bakers Mountain.
Bakers Mountain, photo courtesy Joyce Hostetter
How did Joyce end up writing a series of books that rose up out of what was once a rural community? It all began when Carolyn Yoder, senior editor at Calkins Creek, suggested that Joyce find the story in her own backyard. When Joyce began researching the history of Hickory, NC, she discovered the Miracle of Hickory at her local library.
Mural in downtown Hickory. Do you see Joyce?
She researched, read old papers, interviewed polio patients...and BLUE was born. Read some of Joyce's thoughts on the process of discovering her stories here.
Part of Joyce's real backyard. Photo courtesy Joyce Hostetter
We bonded over reading and writing. We co-presented several times and continue to publish a quarterly newsletter, Talking Story. We are critique partners and good friends.
I felt Joyce's influence when I began brainstorming my own first novel. I rode my bike, walked, and drove through neighborhoods. What could have happened here? Half-Truths incubated. Ideas hatched. A novel slowly took shape. It changed. Got revised (many times!). Was reborn.
What did Carolyn mean when she gave Joyce that assignment? Possibly she was not only talking about an actual backyard but was also encouraging Joyce to reach inside of her own experiences to find something she could relate to and authentically show in her writing.
Let's face it. There might not be a compelling story about polio or pre-civil rights tension in your community, city, or state. Or, maybe you write science fiction or fantasy that's not even rooted in this continent or world--let alone in your neighborhood! How are you going to find that "backyard" story?
At the foot of Bakers Mountain and staring at Joyce's budding trees and the grass turning green I thought--my backyard is bigger than the crazy intersecting streets of Myers Park, NC. where my characters live.
It's my whole life.
It's writing what I know with a twist.
It's taking my grief over losing someone I loved and embedding that in Kate, my protagonist's heart when she leaves home. It's realizing how making choices is not always very linear and conveying it on the page; it's understanding how gut-wrenching it is to feel betrayed--or be the betrayer.
How about you? What have you used in your life--whether it's a place, person, event, or experiences--that has made it's way into your book?
What is in your own backyard?
Some backyards are under construction, like mine is!
GIVEAWAY
For the first time on my blog, one fortunate blog reader will be able to pick which book in the Bakers Mountain Series they want to win! Leave me a comment by May 11 to enter this giveaway and tell me which book you are interested in. U.S. addresses only. Make sure you leave me your full name and email address if you are new to my blog.
Make sure you check out the other great books on Greg Pattridge's MMGM blog!
Congratulations to Joan Edwards who won RESTART from last week's giveaway.
Thanks to almost five hundred people who read my second blog in this mini-series of posts about my WIP. That's a new record for a blog post about Half-Truths! In this post, Julian Daventry (the ring leader for these posts) challenged me and my fellow bloggers with ten more thought-provoking questions. Click here for Part I in this series, and Part II.
1. Name a unique aspect of your story world.
Both neighborhoods, Myers Park where Kate Dinsmore lives with her grandparents, and Cherry, an African American neighborhood where Lillian Harris lives three miles away, still exist. Several years ago I met a gentleman who grew up in Myers Park. Although his grandparents’ home is now subdivided into condominiums, we walked through parts of it. I have used it as a model for the Dinsmore home--including the gardens and the barn out back that once stabled horses.
George Snyder pointing out the "LS" (his grandfather's initials)
carved into the shutters on his grandparents' home.
One of my other experts was an elderly gentleman who grew up in Cherry. One day he drove me around the neighborhood and showed me his church and the home he grew up in.
Price Davis outside his childhood home in Cherry.
2.Talk about one of the important animals in the story (someone's pet or horse; or a fierce animal the MC must defeat).
When Kate leaves eastern, NC to live with her wealthy grandparents, she brings along her goat, Eileen. In a lot of ways Eileen represents Kate’s past that she doesn’t want to let go of. But, Eileen is stubborn and rambunctious and in some ways she represents Kate’s future too. (I’m not going to explain that. You’ll have to read the book to find out more!)
This is research.
3.A paragraph describing something in your storyworld (building, landmark, etc.).
Occasionally, Kate writes poems. In this scene Kate is walking back to her grandmother’s house after secretly meeting Lillian in Cherry. (Crossroads is the fictional town where Kate grew up.)
In Crossroads, nights were soft blankets
stars, my friends.
In the city, harsh street lamps glare,
Giant shadows loom behind every tree.
Footsteps echo.
Is someone following me?
Run across Kings Road.
Safe in Myers Park now.
Breathe.
Goosebumps prick my skin.
Monster mansions line the road.
Quiet. Solemn.
They don’t care about a country gal
rushing past.
I belong here,
right?
Not in Cherry.
Where Negros live.
4.Something dangerous in your story world.
This is part of a scene when Kate and Lillian go downtown together.
Over the lunch counter the WHITES ONLY sign accuses me. I stare at the chalkboard menu next to the large mirror. Will the waitress serve Lillian? She should! Lillian’s sand-colored skin is almost as white as mine! Now I understand why she’s wearing a suit. With less of her skin showing, she’ll blend in better.
The waitress takes our order without giving either of us a second glance. I spin my stool, trying to relax. The police officer who had shoved past us when we were standing outside Liggett’s swaggers past the colored kids. He stops, twirls his nightstick, and says something I can’t hear. Whatever he says, the kids nod their heads obediently. But when he turns his back, a boy sticks his tongue out. The kids hold their hands up to their mouths as if holding in laughter.
I twirl back and look at our reflection in the mirror. Lillian is sipping her Coca Cola like she’s savoring every ounce. “Don’t look now, but that fat policeman we saw outside just walked in,” I whisper. “Pretend like you’re minding your own business. Maybe he won’t see us.”
“I AM minding my own business,” Lillian hisses back.
“Hey there, Officer Duckworth,” the waitress calls. “Want your usual?”
“Yes, Susie. Two hot dogs all the way!” he looks up and down the counter. “You’re mighty crowded here today. There ain’t a place for a hard-working officer of the law to rest his aching feet.”
“It’s the special,” Susie jots down his order on her pad. “Brings everyone in off the street.” She jerks her finger towards the colored kids and wrinkles her nose. “‘Specially them.”
“They shouldn’t give you no trouble,” Officer Duckworth says. “If they do, you just let me and my partner here handle it.” He taps his nightstick that’s hanging from his hip.
Officer Duckworth strolls along the row of stools, greeting some of the customers, and patting a few on the back. He’s heading right for us! What are we going to do if he figures out Lillian is colored? We’ll be arrested and dragged off to jail! I can’t believe Lillian’s put us in such danger. When Grandmother finds out what we’ve done, I’ll never be allowed out of the house again.
Lillian’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. Outside of a vein pulsing in her neck, her face is as calm as the fish pond behind Pop’s house. She pats my hand. “My Daddy always says, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained!’”
I grit my teeth. More than anything I want to be mad at her, but I can’t.
Her passing was my idea.
5.Something delightful in your story world. Remember the marble in Post II? Kate's grandfather gives one to her one to and Lillian. Uncomfortable with receiving a gift from her white employer, Lillian tries to give it back:
“Nonsense! I have more than I can ever play with.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Besides, who’s going to tell me that an old man can’t give trinkets to two pretty young women?”
He slides the marble drawer closed. “It’ll be our secret,” he says. Then he sits down and picks up his paper. I toss my marble from one hand to another. Do I want to share a secret with Lillian?
Thunder rattles the window. Suddenly, the library door slams open. As if string ties our hands together, Lillian and I pocket our marbles at the same time.
6.A movie soundtrack that would complement the setting.
I have no idea. But here's a song Kate likes to dance to:
More Research
7.How does the geography impact the story?
The physical landscape doesn’t play much of a part, but this is a uniquely southern story. I recently explained the premise to an older friend in Grand Rapids, MI. Her response made me realize that the politics and history of the South—although studied in other parts of the country—may shock readers who have not lived in the South. 8.Is there a particular location or time period your story you had in mind when creating your story world? North Carolina, 1952. As a result, I've read about the Korean War, McCarthyism, tobacco farms, fashion, cars, architecture...you name it. See my Pinterest boards for pictures! 9.What is the climate like, and does it play a role in the story? It's hot and humid in the summers, but that doesn't play a huge role. I've realized that I probably have included too many storms though... 10.Are there any traditions, and do they have an effect upon the plot? I can't think of any!
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I hope you'll check out my fellow bloggers answers and see how they answered these questions.
Congratulations to Connie Saunders who won Blood Brothers from my last blog.
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Thanks to all of you for leaving comments two weeks ago on Part I. In Part II, I answer several thought-provoking questions about the Half-Truths cast. At the end you'll find a list of my blogging colleague's posts. Check them out--these are young adult writers with limitless imaginations! 1. Who is the main character?
Anna Katherine Dinsmore. Her friends call her Kate; her best friends call her Katie. She turns 14 in Half-Truths and recently moved from a tobacco farm in eastern NC (where this picture "was taken"--well, sort of, truth is, I found it on Pinterest) to ritzy, Myers Park, NC (a part of Charlotte).
I imagine Kate was about 10 when this picture was taken.
That's Speckles next to her.
2. What is the goal of the protagonist? After moving from Crossroads, she wants to find a place where she fits in. 2a. The antagonist? - Ginny, a friend she used to play Civil War with when she visited her grandparents in Myers Park. Ginny wants to keep Kate away from her crush, Robert. - Kate's grandmother, Cecelia Dinsmore, who wants to make Kate into a debutante. 3. Is there a possession or memory the MC keeps close? The marble her granddaddy made and gave her.
4. What is the protagonist's greatest fear? That her daddy will get injured in the Korean conflict. Or worse.
5. Who is your favorite character? Like many of the other bloggers in this tag, I like them all. Sometimes I even like Kate's uppity grandmother, Cecelia, who drives Kate crazy.
6. List some of the more prominent characters, and then provide a line that describes them. Eileen: Even though I’ve had the whole summer to get used to the idea of moving to Charlotte I’m still not ready to leave. “I still don’t see why we can't stay." I say, tugging on my goat’s rope to get her to hop up on the truck. Why can Eileen jump over the chicken coop but when I want her to do something she digs her heels in and refuses to budge?
Eileen is a Nubian goat.
Random fact: Carl Sandburg had Nubian goats
in his mountain home in Flat Rock, NC.
They're from African descent.
Lillian: As I duck under the clothes line, I smile at the maid and wrap Eileen’s rope around my wrist. Her skin is the color of sand and up close I see her hair is nappy at the roots and her nose is flared. If a body’s not looking close, she’d pass for white. I’ve never seen a colored gal with green eyes like mine.
I've been studying pictures on Pinterest until my eyes blur. Here are two contenders for Lillian, although neither are quite right. The first is the correct time period, and I'm thinking the young woman at the top right has Lillian's skin tone, but I picture her hair to be longer, like one of the two young women on the bottom.
Lena Horne and Ricardo Montalban with civil rights heroine Daisy Bates and the “Little Rock Nine,” at New York’s Imperial Theater on June 13, 1958. Horne and Montalban were starring in the musical, Jamaica at the theater.
Wrong time period, but this is Anita Florence Hemmings
who passed for white in order to attend
Vasser in 1893.
Ginny: In Journalism the next day, I’m hoping that Ginny figured out that I’m not a good gossip gal and that I’d be re-assigned back to the News staff. No such luck. She simply smiles sweetly and tells me I can have another chance by reporting on the fall festival. “Make sure you write up all the booths real well,” she says. Her sweeter than honey smile doesn’t fool me. “By any chance has your grandmother talked to Mrs. Tillett since your luncheon? I do hope she doesn’t forget to visit my booth!”
The girl seated on the left could
be Ginny. As long as her hair is red.
Robert: Robert is still avoiding me. Boys! If he didn’t keep slicking down his cow lick in that dang cute way he has—I’d write him out of my life too.
If the boy sitting down with the football had a cow lick,
this would be a great picture of Robert.
(Ad is dated 1952. Perfect!)
7. Who is the funniest character? Maggie, Kate's younger sister:
I stare at great-grandfather Jeremiah’s portrait over the fireplace and Maggie follows my gaze. “I’ll be flabberdoozled! Look it, Frank. That’s you!”
“Flabberdoozled?” Granddaddy repeats. He bites his bottom lip but his laughing eyes gives him away.
“You know, Granddaddy!” Maggie looks at him impatiently. “Flabbergasted and bamboozled. Flabberdoozled!”
8. How do you come up with names? I flip through books like these:
as well as websites like this one on civil war names.
9.Are any characters influenced by someone in your life? Lots. But I'd prefer to keep their identities secret. (You never know when someone will come up to you and say, "You really didn't write about me, did you?") Here are my fellow bloggers in this Shared WIP Tag. I hope you'll check out their characters too. You'll find some doozies!
Yesterday Joyce Hostetter and I brainstormed our upcoming workshop for the Write2Ignite conference. We have presented “Using Life Experiences to Inform Your Writing” at other venues, but we like to tweak it each time to make it fresh.
We introduce ourselves by each reading a passage that springboards from our own life experiences. Previously, I have read from an article for adults in which I show my father’s story-reading influence upon me as a writer. Joyce challenged me use a childhood memory that has impacted my current work in progress, Half-Truths.
We always begin this workshop by providing sensory stimuli to help prompt memories. Participants build upon these experiences in two different writing activities. Yesterday Joyce and I chewed over how to help writers get to the essence, or “truth” of those memories.
Joyce and I embracing the book sculptures on The Green
in Charlotte, NC
After our conversation, I e-mailed Joyce and asked to clarify what she meant about the discovering the truth of an experience. She replied,
“In the shed scene in BLUE, I refer to the smell of oil and dirt and how that reminds Ann Fay of her Daddy. But for me, the smell of dirt and oil reminds me mostly of summer days when I would go to the garage and take an inner tube down from a pole on the wall and go to the pond to swim.
“I could describe my own experience in the book – I could talk about hearing the screen door slam as I left the house, running to the garage to beat my siblings to the biggest inner tube, smelling the mix of dirt and oil on the old garage floor, and looping the inner tube over my arm with my towel as I walked to the pond.
“Instead I took a smell that has good memories and applied it to Ann Fay’s daddy and her longing for him. The trick is using details to give life to our stories without simply writing a fictionalized memoir— in other words— pulling nuggets from our lives to inform our writing but not to dictate a scene."
I read Joyce’s email and then went outside to do yard work. As I raked and weeded I thought about Joyce’s challenge: to see if a nugget from my past could inform my work. I dug up wild onions, smelled them, remembered their odor, and wondered if one of main characters would ever sniff wild onions. I came inside and wrote this poem from Kate Dinsmore’s perspective.
Image courtesy of ppd.purdue.edu
Wild Onions
The smell is pungent and my eyes sting when I hold them to my nose.
My nose tingles. The earth is springy and brown.
Lillie and I wash our hands after weeding and we both smell like onions.
The same color of muddy water washes down the drain.
I end up with white hands; hers are only slightly darker than mine.
Yet she has to sit at the back of the bus.
She goes to a school where the books are used.
She has to worry every time she walks through Myers Park if someone is going to accuse her of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She is always looking over her shoulder.
Wondering, if she will ever measure up to some white standard of beauty. Actually, never feeling like she will measure up.
Now my eyes and nose tingle, not from onions, but I am sad for my friend.
And yes,
She is my friend.
This poured out of me and left me in tears—the poem and process both surprised and delighted me.
What about the orange popsicles? I think I’ll tuck that taste and memory into my pocket and save them for another poem.
You may associate the title of this blog with the popular Dr. Seuss book of that name. But in this case, I’m referring to the places that an author such as myself goes to in order to research historical fiction. On Tuesday, that meant going to the celebration of the United House of Prayer’s 84th convocation in Charlotte, NC. It also meant eating delicious food and listening to trombone bands, vocal choirs, and brass choirs as they played for 200 appreciative fans.
For those who are new to this blog, I am writing an historical middle grade novel which takes place in Charlotte in 1950. The main plot is about how a 13-year-old-white girl and a 14-year-old-light-skinned African American girl discover that they are second cousins. In the process of researching the story I have read books, interviewed scores of people, and tried to capture life in Myers Park and Cherry—the neighborhoods in which my main characters lived.
One of the stories I heard was about the annual Daddy Grace parade that wound itself through Brooklyn, a neighborhood torn down in urban renewal during the 1960’s. Thinking that could be an intersecting point for my characters, I’ve researched Daddy Grace and his influence in the African American community. Although the original House of Prayer for all People which he founded in the 1930’s was razed, a new building now draws hundreds of people to its location in North Charlotte. When I found out that the Levine Museum was hosting a concert there, I suspected I would find a detail or two that would find its way into my book.
I was not disappointed.
Since pictures are worth a thousand words, videos must be worth several thousand each. Here is a sampling of what I saw and heard.
Jaydon Caldwell, age 6, plays along with his Daddy, a trombonist
I listened to the music and wished the trombonists would parade through the auditorium in the same way that 60 years ago, musicians wound their way through Brooklyn. (Click here and then click on Brooklyn for a video from 1959.) I understood how crowds gathered and how people were drawn to Daddy Grace.
Members of the United House of Prayer Bailey String Praise band and choir. Photo by T.ORTEGA GAINES, Charlotte Observer
How will attending this event inform my story? I gained three words: pulse, rhythm, and throb. I am richer as a novelist, for having heard, and felt, this Charlotte musical tradition.
About five miles from where I live is the lovely historical neighborhood of Myers Park. That doesn't exactly qualify as my "backyard" does it? But when my friend and fellow author, Joyce Moyer Hostetter, relayed that her editor, Carolyn Yoder, encourages writers to dig for stories that are figuratively in their own backyards, I decided that Myers Park would qualify for me. Joyce, by the way, first heard that advice at a Highlights Founders Workshop and turned around and wrote BLUE, a novel which is the story of the polio epidemic in Joyce's hometown of Hickory, NC. Obviously, Carolyn's advice paid off for Joyce and I hope that it will pay off for me too!
As I mentioned in my "That's the way it was" post, I have been interviewing a variety of people and hearing their stories about Charlotte. I drive around and look at my hometown for the last 22 years with new eyes. Which home were here 60+ years ago? Which roads, businesses, and homes didn't exist? Instead of the homes along the main roads that lead out of town, what did the farms look like? What happened to Briar Creek that Mr. James Ross (pictured here) used to play in? What happened to Henderson Dance Studio where Liz Medearis (another interviewee) used to go for dance lessons? What happened to the armory where Liz and her teenage friends used to go to and listen to Count Basie?
For every question I answer, a new one pops up. But like a huge jigsaw puzzle, I am finding pieces that eventually I hope to fit together into a young adult novel. Meanwhile, I am having fun as I discover the story of Anna Marie Dinsmore, my fourteen-year-old protagonist who just moved in with her Myers Park grandparents after her father left to serve in Korea. Stay tuned, and you'll hear the story as she tells it to me. After all, this is her story, and I just happen to live in her backyard.
