EEK! The Curmudgeon Escaped! Cast vs Casted

by Marsha Ward @Marsha Ward

It's a little known fact that I have a curmudgeon side to my personality that I keep locked in the basement. Occasionally, he, and yes, the Curmudgeon is male, defeats my lock and escapes, usually to make a scathing comment on misuse of the English Language. He's out! Sheesh! Well, we might as well find out what the Curmudgeon has to say.

Listen up, you Readers and Writers, too. Recently, that lady up there ^ (who cannot be said to be my "mistress," because she ain't, and she wouldn't allow any mud thrown on her character anyway) saw a report that a person of high standing used the term, "he was casted well" in regards to an actor portraying a character in a large production.

If you could only imagine the terrible tantrum this caused me to throw! I think she sensed my turmoil, because she came down here and checked the lock on the door. But she doesn't know that I've figured out a way to escape, heh-heh. Here I am!

Before that lady ^ comes over here to the computer and wrestles me back down to my lonely chamber, I've got something to say about the verb "to cast."

If you remember your lessons in English classes from elementary school— What! Nobody deigned to teach you English, you miserable little insect?

Ahem! Where are my manners? Ahem.

The verb "to cast" is an irregular verb. That means, you inse— ahem. That means the conjugations don't follow the regular path of the verbs that play nice. Conjugation. You don't— Conjugate, you worm! Conjugate means "to give in order the inflectional forms of a verb." YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT INFLECTIONAL MEANS? "The change of form, in a word, to indicate number, case, tense, etc." Get a dictionary, you little—

Never mind.

Anyway, as I was saying, "to cast" is an irregular verb. It doesn't get "d" or "ed" added to it to make the past tense. Here's the present tense:

I cast
you cast
he casts
we cast
you cast
they cast

Here's the preterite, or past tense:

I cast
you cast
he cast
we cast
you cast
they cast

Do you see that? The past tense is virtually the same as the present tense. The only difference is that in past tense, he cast [the first stone yesterday]. But he casts [that miserable little stone today].

There's no d or ed in sight.

ARGH!

sight - site - cite

Next time I escape—SHE'S COMING! She has a new lock in her hand! HELP!

Sample Saturday - New Project

I have so many ideas running around in my head that sometimes I am compelled to write parts of the bones of one idea or another down. Yesterday, May 3, 2017, marked the beginning of the writing for a piece of fiction (short story, novella, novel?) featuring a younger son of the Owen Family, Clayton, or Clay for short.

In truth, it's not the first I've thought of what to do with the idea of having one of the Owens go to California to start a horse ranch. Two or three years ago, I wrote a short story in which just such a place is mentioned. That piece was publishing in--of all places--an anthology of boxing stories. I plan to publish it as a stand-alone story later this year.

As I mulled over how to place some Owen family members on the ranch, at first I thought it would be a continuation of James's story. We all know how much he loves working with horses. Then, since Rulon's son, Roddy, popped up in the final moments of the aforementioned short story, with the ranch on his lips, I thought it would be Rulon who moved to California.

But no.

It is someone else's turn.

I have figured out the timeline and know a few things that must happen to establish that ranch. And how Roddy gets there. Now the story must stand in line for its turn to be written. I have two or three other pieces of fiction that must be completed first.

But I will share some of what I wrote yesterday. Behold! An Adventure with Clay Owen (and that most certainly is not the title!).

--Copyright Marsha Ward--

Clayton Owen paced the floor of the rustic cabin. One yellow pine board squeaked under his feet each time he trod upon it. Pa needed to get another nail in that one. He drew up, facing the small window with the prairie view and leaned heavily on the sill. The sun had slipped behind the mountain to his back, but the light persisted still.

He turned. Pa sat rigidly in his chair, white knuckles gripping the wooden arms. Ma knitted in her chair, the click of her needles as she fashioned the blue wool into a garment now the only sound above Clay's harsh breathing. Her eyes were on her work. She would not intervene.

"I want to learn the skill. It's only two years."

"You're able enough at the forge. You don't need to apprentice to the blacksmith."

"Horseshoes! I can make horseshoes. I need to know more, Pa."

"How can I spare you for two years? Rulon and Carl are all I've got to help me."

Clay approached his father and knelt before the chair. He laid his hands on the backs of his father's. "You have Bertie. You have Henry and the rest of the hands. You can get by without me for two years."

--Copyright Marsha Ward--

I hope you enjoyed this little Sample. Stay tuned for further bits and pieces as I get back to writing fiction.

Advice for Writers: Write the Book

By Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

The first step to getting a book published is to write it. Here's an encouraging excerpt about that from my new book for writers, The Checklist: Indie Publishing My Way.

The essential step in publishing a book is writing it. Yeah. That. This step will take however long it does, but the sooner you develop habits that help you move forward—without an internal editor on your shoulder to make you write, rewrite, polish, and re-polish Chapter 1—the better. It doesn't matter whether or not you own the most popular writer's software out there, or if you write your 1st draft using Word, Open Office, Pages, or Notepad. The point is to push through and finish the draft, because you can't publish a book that isn't finished.

On my checklist, I allow two to three months for writing. Sometimes I hit it, and sometimes I don't, Because Life. Happens. Did I mention that I have a condition known as ADHD? That's Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. A great many creative people—or Creatives, for short—suffer from this malady in its various forms. The condition is difficult to deal with, but all challenges can be overcome (or so I keep telling myself).

Here's a Truth that you must remember: every writer writes differently. In other words, there is no One True Way to write. Don't let anyone fool you into thinking that their method for writing is the only method of writing.

The corollary to the Truth is that every writer may write each book differently. Okay, I don't want to scare you or introduce unneeded stress into your life, so I won't say much more about that. Just realize that you may need to write a second book using a different method. No stressing about it, okay? Just get this book finished.

Writers write using methods that string along a spectrum that ranges from Plotter at one end to Pantser at the other. Where you may fall on this spectrum (and it probably will shift from time to time and book to book) depends on how your brain is wired. Plotters feel a compulsion to know everything that will happen in a book, so they plot it out, using outlines of varying degrees of exactitude and comprehensiveness. Pantsers (the name comes from the term "writing-by-the-seat-of-your-pants") are also called organic or discovery writers. They want to write the story and discover what happens as their fingers work on the keyboard. You'd be surprised how many top authors are Pantsers. Really surprised.

Pantsers often are stymied by complete outlines. For example, if I write so little as a synopsis of a book, my brain says, "Well, look there, you've written the story. You don't need me anymore," and it shuts down and refuses to cooperate with me in writing a first draft.

There is so much danger in this state of affairs that I cannot plot out a book. I can only figure out who the main character is, a vague estimate of where the book could end, and maybe a couple or three things I hope will happen along the way. I usually know when and where the story will be set, and maybe what the "inciting incident" or "change in the character's life" is. Beyond that, I have to let my mind direct my fingers when I write.

The process is really kind of cool.

That doesn't mean it's your process. It's mine. And it can change. Slightly.

Different books I've written have called for different degrees of foreknowledge, so I have ranged a bit from the Pantser end toward the Plotter end, but never so much that my brain turned off.

Go with what works for you in writing your book, but do go forward.

The Checklist: Indie Publishing My Way is now available for only $4.99 on the sites of all major ebook vendors:

Kindle | NOOK | Kobo | Apple iBooks | Smashwords 

Coming soon in Print!

Behind the Scenes: Discovery

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

I'm so relieved to discover that the Characters in My Head are not dead! They're talking to me again.

Maybe they aren't the characters for the book I thought I was supposed to write, but these are just as important.

I've also discovered some names in my pretend genealogy, revealed as I wrote this morning. Finding out the names of Rod Owen's parents is almost as exciting as finding my own ancestors!

Rulon Peter Owen married Nellie Marie Yancey. Their only surviving child is Roderick Owen. I don't know yet if he has a middle name, but his son, Rulon, does.

I knew the name began with S, for that was revealed to me as I wrote Gone for a Soldier, when Rulon signed his name in a letter to his wife, Mary. A couple of days ago, I learned that his middle name is Scow, the surname of his maternal grandmother, Phoebe Scow Helm.

I know. All this sounds really freaky. This is part of the discovery process of some writers when they dig deep into their characters' lives. It's really quite thrilling to us, and not spooky at all.

Now go read a good book this weekend. May I suggest my latest full-length novel, The Zion Trail? Someone just posted on my Facebook profile that she's finishing up reading it. Oh, she said such lovely things that make my knees quake and my heart beat faster! Here's a part: "Great read. Wonderful history. Endearing characters. Better and better with each turned page."

You may purchase The Zion Trail in ebook formats or in print:

The Zion Trail

$3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
Ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store  

Print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday - Trail's End

Welcome to Sample Saturday. Today I'm going to do something a little different: I'm going to post a complete piece. It's short—fewer than 500 words—so you won't be overwhelmed in reading it. Enjoy!
~~~

Trail's End

She heard his spurs jingle in the darkness as he came into the room where she lay, and she opened her eyes, but with no moon or starlight broaching her draped window, she did not expect to see him. Nevertheless, she knew her husband by the odors he brought with him into the room: the musty smell of dust, the pungence of sweat and leather, the hint of tobacco.

A match flared, and he lit the candle on the washstand. Its sputtering flicker lighted the angles and planes of his face, his eyes shaded by the wide brimmed hat he hardly ever removed.

Then he unbuckled the gun belt, and coming between her and the light, he fastened it around the near bedpost. His silhouette stretched long and lean as he paused for a moment, then turned, sat on the bed, and pulled off his boots. They hit the wooden floor, one at a time, with the combined music of bell and drum, then he stood once more and crossed the room to the window.

She supposed he changed his mind about looking out, for he turned before touching the drape, and removed his vest. He moved lazily across the room and hung it on a peg, then he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled the tail free from his jeans, slid the sleeves from his arms, and hung the shirt over the vest.

The candlelight reflecting off his chest seemed to light a glow within her, and she wondered if he was really taking as long as it seemed. Her eyes flicked up to his face and caught his half smile, almost sardonic.

Then he bent over and blew out the light. She heard his jeans fall to the floor as he threw them over his boots, and he was beside her; his warmth and his smell and his strength were there for her to love.

She put out her hand and took the hat from his head. As she placed it on the bedpost over his gun belt she whispered, “First thing on and last thing off, but you don’t wear it in our bed!”

Copyright 1990 Marsha Ward
~~~

A piece this short is oftentimes called "flash fiction." Have you read, or written, any flash fiction? If you've published any, where can we find it?

Sample Saturday - May 7, 2016, Mended by Moonlight

Welcome to Sample Saturday. I'm sharing this week from my work-in-progress (WIP), Mended by Moonlight.

Ella Ruth's mother has arranged a consultation for Ella Ruth with a physician at the new soldier's hospital to investigate the cause of her persistent headaches. Unfortunately, Momma delayed telling Ella Ruth about the appointment until the day she was to appear.

Of course, this has resulted in "words" being exchanged between the two women.
~~~

Mended by Moonlight

"It will do you good to take a drive in the fresh air," Momma said.

"The cold air, you mean."

"Bracing air. You've been indoors too much, my dear."

"All right. I'll go, if Thomas may drive me. There's no need for you to put yourself out to accompany me," Ella Ruth said, and went to get her heavy cloak without waiting for her mother's agreement.

During the buggy trip, Ella Ruth sat stiffly beside the elderly servant, glad for the lap robe that prevented him from seeing how tightly her hands were clasped together. Where are my steady nerves? Did they leave me when Ben died? So far today, her head had not tormented her. She hoped the physician would conclude that if she were allowed to mourn in peace, the headaches would disappear.

When Thomas turned the horse into the drive to the hospital, Ella Ruth saw that a comfortable sum of money had been expended to construct the buildings. Where did they get the money? she wondered. Surely the Union is as bankrupt as we are from the expenses of the war.

Thomas drove up to the largest building, halted the horse, and carefully alighted from the seat to help Ella Ruth down from the buggy. She told Thomas to stay with the horse, took a deep breath to steel herself, and walked through the front door.

Inside, light played on white walls of a small, empty vestibule. She pulled a bit of paper from her reticule and pushed through another door to encounter a hallway where a young man with no arm to fill his pinned-up left sleeve strolled past the door.

"Excuse me," she said, embarrassed to hear how timid her voice sounded.

The young man turned toward her and inclined his head slightly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Might you inform me where Doctor . . ." She consulted the paper in her hand. "Where I might find Dr. Marshall?"

"Are you the new Matron?"

"Um, I-- I have a consultation arranged with the doctor." She twisted the paper between her hands, disconcerted by the man's direct gaze.

"Ah. He'll be in the wards this time of day." He gestured toward a set of double doors on the right. "It would be more proper if you waited in his office. That's down the other way, the last door on the left."

"Thank you, you're most kind," she said to the first Yankee soldier she'd seen since Ben died. "I'll wait."

She turned away and fled down the corridor. She badly needed to sit.
~~~

I hope everything will go well at the consultation for Ella Ruth. Do you think the doctor will be able to discover the cause of the headaches?

While we're waiting to find out, pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail:

The Zion Trail

 $3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books
ebooks: Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store print books: CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Mended by Moonlight 2

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This tidbit is from my work-in-progress (WIP), Mended by Moonlight. Ella Ruth has suffered a nightmare.
~~~

"I'm not subject to nightmares," she protested, brushing her hair away from her face. Her muscles ached from struggling. Her head ach-- No, it felt fuzzy, but did not ache at present. She slipped off the edge of the bed, wanting no more of it for now.

The cold air in the room raised goose flesh along her arms. She hastened to the fireplace and tried in vain to stir the dead embers to life.

"I'll get Thomas to build a fire, Missy," Lula said, and started to leave the room.

"Wait." Ella Ruth held up her hand. "Is it night? How long did I sleep?"

Lula turned in the doorway. "It be cloudy outside, Missy. You slept about a hour. Do you want a fire?"

Ella Ruth began to pace, rubbing her bare arms. She had to get out of this confining room.

"No. Help me dress. I will take a walk in the garden to warm me."

"The garden pretty bare this time of year," Lula protested. "Nuthin' to see out there."

"Nevertheless, I need the air." She paused and looked at her servant. "Did Momma leave?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You will say nothing of this . . . bad dream to anyone. Do you understand?"

Lula nodded, a baffled look on her face.

"No one. Tell me you understand."

Yes, ma'am. Missy, I don't tell tales."
~~~

While you're waiting to see what situation Ella Ruth will get into next, I'd like to suggest that you pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail, available at all major online retailers. $3.99 for ebooks; $12.99 for print books.

ebooks:
Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store
print books:
CreateSpace | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Sample Saturday: Mended by Moonlight

Welcome to Sample Saturday. Today's tidbit is from my forthcoming work, Mended by Moonlight. Ella Ruth Allen Owen is not faring well in the aftermath of the American Civil War. She's been struggling with headaches, but now, a new malady is plaguing her.
~~~

Momma did not press Ella Ruth to accompany her on the day's visits, and Ella Ruth retired to her room. Lula had a cold cloth waiting, and Ella Ruth sank into slumber, fending off the painful headache until she remembered no more.

Bye and bye she found herself struggling in the candle-lit parlor with a bolt of lavender cloth that unwrapped above her head, swirling her into its folds until she was caught tight, arms pinioned to her sides. She tried to fight, to wriggle out of the binding fabric, but it held her fast, until she fell in a heap and dissolved into tears.

She awoke then, screaming and thrashing against her encumbering bedclothing.

Lula bent over her, trying to sooth her with soft words as she tugged at the bedspread and sheet.

When she felt the bedclothes release her, Ella Ruth sat up, panting and whimpering, until the her panic subsided.

"Missy, it was a bad dream, no more. You be fine soon."
~~~

Will Ella Ruth really be all right, as Lula promises? She has vowed to remain in mourning in honor of her husband, Ben Owen, but will her parents force her to abandon the secluded life she wants to live?

Stay tuned. While you wait, be sure to pick up a copy of my new novel, The Zion Trail, available at all major online retailers.

The Zion Trail - currently in ebook formats

(Print coming March 25):
ebooks: 

Smashwords | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple iBooks Store 

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Spring 3

Welcome to Haught Sp-- Sample Saturday! In this sample from Blood at Haught Springs, a novella I'll be publishing later this year, Wesley Haught is taking his new clients out to see the house they will be leasing.
~~~

As soon as he could get the buggy hitched, Wes drove it around to the store and halted the horses. He swung down and handed the girl up into the rear seat, although he would have preferred having her beside him. It was the father's place to sit up front, so he could see the house straight away as they approached it. That was more important than Wes being able to make a pitch for the daughter's attention. Even so, his toes tingled slightly.

As Wes drove out of town, he endeavored to make light conversation in order to save his sales push for when Mr. Badger saw the place.

“Have you folks come a long way to reach Haught Springs?”

“Montana,” Mr. Badger replied.

Wes kept quiet, hoping the man would expand on the one-word explanation. When he said no more, Wes asked, “Brutal winters?”

“Very.”

“You'll find the winters to be moderate in our area. You've made a good choice, coming here.”

“My sister, little Annie, couldn't get used to the cold,” Nina said from the back seat. “It made her ill.”

Wes envisioned a small girl shivering in a threadbare coat, like a character in a Dickens story, and then figured that was foolish. This man had enough money to keep his family warm.

He tried again. “What sort of commerce are you in, Mr. Badger? The bank building will need renovations, I imagine.”

“Not so. It suits as it is.”

“It does?”

“I'm opening a bank.”

“Well, that's good news. We could use a bank hereabouts. Business has picked up lately.”

“So I hear.”

And that was as far as the conversation stretched. Wes wondered what his father would have done to prod more responses from Mr. Badger. He hoped Miss Nina was more of a conversationalist. He could scarcely wait to get her alone to find out.

The silence continued as he drove the horses at a sprightly rate down onto the river road, thoughts of the lovely girl behind him filling his mind.

Miss Nina laid a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Is the house much farther? I’m so anxious to see it.”

He swung his head to look toward her, his toes tingling so much he could scarcely respond to her question. “It’s not so much farther on,” he finally managed to say. Her hand lay so softly upon him that he wondered if it was really made of flesh and bones.

“I’m glad. We’ve traveled so far in anticipation of arriving at a good place.”

“Haught Springs is the best place hereabouts to settle, Miss,” he replied. “We have abundant water from the river, and good weather. Your family has made a good choice.”

“Father is quite astute,” she murmured, and patted his shoulder.

He thought he would melt. The skin around her huge blue eyes crinkled a bit as she smiled at him.
~~~

Discount pricing for Read an Ebook Week lasts through tonight, March 12, 2016, at 11:59 p.m. Pacific Time.

Click here to go to my Profile Page at Smashwords.com, where you will find a list of my books and stories.

Use the coupon code RAE25 at checkout for the following discounted items:

The Zion Trail
Gone for a Soldier
The Man from Shenandoah
Ride to Raton
Trail of Storms
Spinster's Folly
Western Stories: Four Tales of the West

The following items are regularly FREE:

The Owen Family Saga Sampler
Thumps and Losers: Two Short Stories
Rapid Recipes for Writers . . . And Other Busy People

Use coupon code RAE25 at checkout.

Sample Saturday: Blood at Haught Springs 2

Welcome to Sample Saturday! I'm continuing this week with another tidbit from Blood at Haught Springs, a novella I'll be publishing later this year.

Wes Haught has just negotiated not one, but two leases to a newcomer in Haught Springs, a frontier town in west Texas.
~~~

Wes stuck his head into the back room and said, “I have an errand, so I’m leaving you in charge of the store.”  He didn't bother to explain to Lonnie where he was going before he shepherded Mr. Badger and his fascinating daughter toward the door. Let his lazy brother think what he wanted.

He opened the door wide, and Mr. Badger took the lead, stalking out onto the porch. Wes smiled covertly at Miss Nina behind her father's back. She returned the smile with a little arching of her eyebrow, which Wes took to be a good sign.

Showing the building to Mr. Badger seemed to take no time at all, even though Lonnie clearly had ignored the weekly maintenance. As Wes took him through, the man nodded at the features: the railing that divided the customer area from the working space, the teller cages, the banker's office, the back room, and the rear entrance. Mr. Badger agreed to the lease conditions and price without hesitation, and they shook hands on the matter.

“I'll draw up the paperwork and bring it to you at the hotel,” Wes said, exiting the building. “While I put the horses into harness, you and your daughter can sit in the shade of the awning in front of the store. I won't be long.”

Miss Nina lagged slightly behind her father, glancing back over her shoulder and wiggling her fingers in temporary farewell. Wes felt as though she had planted a kiss on his cheek.

After she turned away, he punched the air in elation. Let Lonnie gnash his teeth with rage. If Wes got ahead, it was Lonnie's own fault for being a lazy lout. Dad couldn't quibble over Wes’s management of the business if he pulled off making two leases in one day. He hurried around the block to get the buggy hitched.
~~~

I hope you have purchased your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are the purchase links:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

See you next week! 
 

Sample Saturday - Blood at Haught Springs

Although I hate to leave The Zion Trail behind, I will share a tidbit from a new work that will launch later this year. Here's the description:

Wes Haught wants his brother to grow up and take on his share of the chores at the family's general store. Lonnie Haught dreams of the day he can leave home and use his gun. Both brothers resent the added work their father's recent accident has laid on them.

When a new family arrives in Haught Springs, Wes falls for the fair-haired daughter, while Lonnie seizes upon the father's offer of a job as his chance for escape. But lies unravel and lives hang in the balance as brother fights against brother.

Fiery emotions clash in a new Western adventure from the author of the acclaimed Owen Family Saga.
~~~

Wesley Haught opened a barrel of beans, set the wooden top aside, and prepared to sack up ten pounds for his waiting customer, Mrs. Slonaker. The bell over the door of the store jangled, and he looked up. A tall, bearded man came through the door. Wes was sure he hadn't visited Haught's General Store and Commercial Emporium before. Perhaps he was just passing through town. Wes appraised the dark suit the man wore, made of expensive fabric and nicely cut. He must have money. Maybe he’ll spend some of it today. He smiled at the thought.

“Morning,” Wes said. “I'll be with you shortly.”

“Take your time,” the stranger replied, but with a terseness to his voice that indicated he was not in the habit of waiting his turn. He stroked a nicely trimmed yellow beard that had two streaks of gray. His hair—that is, what Wes could see below the man’s bowler hat—was a lighter color of yellow, as though it had faded over the years.

Wes bagged and weighed the beans, then tied the sack closed with a bit of twine. He'd just turned to add the beans to Mrs. Slonaker's order piled on the counter, when the door's bell jangled again as it opened. A rustle of skirts told him he had another female customer.

“Lonnie,” he called over his shoulder into the back room. Lazy lay-about, he thought, his mood turning sour. At nineteen, Lonnie was three years younger than Wes, and he was the worst brother in town. In his mind's eye, he saw Lonnie sitting at the work table, feet propped on the top. Playing with a pistol. As usual. The fact that Dad didn’t seem to see Lonnie’s shiftlessness was like a knife in Wes’s guts.

“Lonnie! Get out here. Folks are lining up.” He hated using a brusque tone of voice in front of customers, but Lonnie wouldn't move unless he thought Wes meant it.

“In a minute,” Lonnie hollered.

From the sounds coming from the back room—the clicks of rotation and soft swishes of metal seating into metal, Wes knew his brother was fitting cartridges into the cylinder of his pistol. “Humph.” Wes turned back in time to see the new arrival close the door, sashay toward the man in the suit, and take his arm.

“Father,” she said. “Annie and the driver are at the hotel.”
~~~

I hope you got your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are purchase links for you:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

I received the proof for the print book edition yesterday. When I finish reading through it yet another time to check for any possible errors, I'll take whatever action I need to, and the book will proceed on its path toward actual printing. I'll let you know when it's available as a print edition.

Sample Saturday - The Zion Trail

I hope you got your copy of The Zion Trail by now. If you haven't, here are purchase links for you:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

"Once again, Marsha Ward has woven an exciting historical novel. Elijah Marshall's adventures, trials, and faith building experiences as he journeys on The Zion Trail will keep readers turning pages until the end!"
~Loralee Evans, author of The Shores of Bountiful, and other novels.

In this week's excerpt, Lije Marshall has come in from the fields for the noon meal and is surprised at the fare.
~~~

Ma was in the kitchen, putting slices of cold beef between slabs of bread.

“Is this for dinner, Ma?”

“Lije, it takes less time to prepare sandwiches than a meal. I don’t want to miss any more of the elders’ talk than I have to.” She wiped her hands on her apron, and I again noticed the bulge on her front side. Ma caught me looking at her stomach, and she laughed. “Yes, I’m going to have a child, Lije. This one will grow up knowing the right way to live.”

“What do you mean, Ma?” I suspected I knew the answer, but wanted confirmation.

“I’ll let your pa say. You go in and listen to the elders. I fear you haven’t heard enough of their preaching.”

“There’s been the work. Pa hasn’t ever let the work go before.”

She must have taken notice of my concern. “It’ll be all right soon, Lije. Pa’s been discussing religion with the elders all morning, and he’s about learned all there is to know about their church.” She smiled, a warm, secret smile that as much as told me what I wanted to know. “Now go in and take heed of the message.”

I went.
~~~

Remember to get your ebook copy of The Zion Trail:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook)
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) 
Kobo | Smashwords (all formats)

See you next week!

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail is launching next Friday!

Yes, my new novel, The Zion Trail, is "dropping" next Friday, February 19th. Want to make sure you receive it? It's ready to pre-order at these online vendors, so get your copy reserved now:

Kindle | Barnes and Noble (Nook) 
iTunes (Apple iBook Store) | Kobo

Here's an endorsement a fellow writer gave the book:

“In The Zion Trail, Marsha Ward weaves an intriguing tale of a young man’s journey in faith. From an unexpected beginning in Pennsylvania, Elijah Marshall travels through heartbreak to cross the American plains to claim his purpose in life. While the story illustrates the early history of the LDS church, the message is one of personal triumph through perseverance. The relationships kindled throughout the book lead through unimaginable trials, culminating in a most satisfying resolution that you won’t want to end.”
~Carolyn Steele, author of Soda Springs and Willow Springs

Today's brief tidbit shows one of the relationships Mrs. Steele talks about: that of Lije and his younger sister, Mary Eliza.
~~~

By the time Pa dismissed us to go about our assigned tasks, Mary Eliza had awakened and gotten herself to the table. She had a cold bowl of porridge before her, into which she had slopped a healthy portion of milk. Her hair hadn’t been combed and hung halfway into her face. I chuckled and patted her on the head as I proceeded on my way outside, and felt her squirm under my hand.

“Lije,” she protested. “Don’t mess my hair.”

I squatted to look into her face. “You look beautiful, Pumpkin,” I said. “Eat hearty. We’re going on an adventure.”

“A ‘venture, Lije?”

“You’ll see tomorrow,” I told her, and left her with those teasing words hanging in the air.
~~~
Remember to reserve your ebook copy of The Zion Trail at these online retailer's stores:

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See you next week!

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail is getting ready for Launch Day

So, it's "next month" now and The Zion Trail is almost ready for Launch Day. "And when is that?" you ask.

And I answer: "Soon. Very soon. But the first folks to get that info are the Subscribers to my Readers Mailing List." See that box over there? --->

That's where you subscribe, so, you know, you are the first to get the word - and to learn about the special offer!

I can't hold on to the release of all that yummy goodness to my Mailing List much longer, folks. I'm looking to send it out on Monday, so this is your last chance to sign up before I hit the "Send" button!

Here is the REAL cover for the ebook. I jumped the gun with what I thought was the final version last week, but this one is the real deal. Pretty, huh?

Today's Sample is the tidbit below, featuring part of the book description and part of an awesome endorsement by author Loralee Evans. The print depicts Fort Bridger, one of the final mercantile stops along the Mormon Trail.

I have more endorsements coming in, some of which will make it onto the back cover of the print version coming out in March.

Go put your email address in that box and hit the Subscribe button. Now. Then check your inbox for the confirmation message.

See you next week!

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail

Welcome to Sample Saturday!

I'm pleased to report that formatting is finished for the ebook version of The Zion Trail, and it only lacks some "publisher" work before it is released next month. See that box over to the right? The one that says, "Enter your email address..." That is where you subscribe to my Readers Mailing List so you will be among the first to learn the Launch Date of this brand new novel.

Am I excited? Maybe not as much as when the house on the hillside behind my house burned to the ground on Tuesday night, but that's a different kind of excitement (more like terror).

Instead, I am excited in a good way.

I'm also excited that the final version of the ebook cover is finished. Here. It. Is:

See the tag line? Guess what that means.

Enough suspense. Here's the sample for today. The Marshall family is about to make a huge change in their lives:
~~~

Late one night I awoke to use the chamber pot and heard my mother sobbing to my father that she could no longer bear to live here. The next morning, he presented us with a plan: instead of continuing to figure out how to plant crops this season, at the end of March we would gather to Zion, which meant we would begin a journey to Nauvoo, Illinois, on the banks of the Mississippi River.

Oh, the fuss and feathers that flew over that scheme! Sarah refused to go, crying the night through and arising with swollen, red eyes and a severe attitude not much mended by sleep. I had no patience with her. Taxed by all that had occurred, even the thought of losing my field did not deter my hope that another place—any place—would be better than this one.

Pa and John and I bore the brunt of carrying out the plan in the limited time until March thirty-first. Ma was still too weak to participate in much of the work, Mary Eliza was too young, and Sarah refused to perform any labor having to do with our removal. Accordingly, Pa tasked me with many kitchen chores. I therefore learned to accomplish many housewifely chores, and didn’t regret a minute of it.

John found my cheerfulness in the kitchen to be strange, and ragged me about it unmercifully. I didn’t care. I was desperate to get to Zion. If cooking and cleaning up and doing whatever I could to make it possible was unmanly, I simply did not care. Who was to notice? We had no visitors, no nearby kin, no one to wonder at my unnatural education in kitchen skills.

Only one thing chafed me: sharing kitchen time with Sarah. Although I wondered where my former compassion for my sister had gone, I had grown impatient with her constant haranguing against my faith, and her adamant refusal to obey our father. In my mind, she lived under her father’s roof; therefore, she owed him obedience.
~~~

Okay, what do you think is going to happen next?

Go sign up for the Readers Mailing List over there at the top of the right sidebar. See you next week!

Sample Saturday: The Zion Trail

Welcome to Sample Saturday. This scene is an excerpt from my forthcoming novel, The Zion Trail, which will be available in ebook format early next year. The Marshall family has been away from their farm for several days to attend a church service. Caution: Mormon beliefs are briefly discussed in this excerpt.
~~~

When we crested the ridge and entered our valley, the air held a smoky bite. It was like stepping into a smokehouse. I wondered what had occurred in our absence, and I knew Pa was on the alert.

Then, as we passed Jeremiah Rommel's farmstead, the man stepped into the road and called to Pa.

“There's trouble, James,” he said in his thick German accent.

Pa pulled up the horses, and Mr. Rommel came to Pa's side of the wagon and motioned him to descend. They walked off a few paces, so I didn't hear what they discussed, but Pa's sudden cry of “What?” rang in my memory for weeks afterwards.

The previous day, masked marauders appeared as Mr. Rommel slopped our hogs at dusk, hogs we had planned to butcher soon. The raiders shot the hogs, killed the chickens, pushed Mr. Rommel into a ditch, then fired the barn. Fired the barn! I imagined the frantic lowing of the cows as they shoved against the confining walls of the stalls, slowly choking on the thick smoke of the burning corn and wheat, and finally roasting to death in the conflagration.

How can I tell of the sorrow, of the overwhelming loss? I cannot bear to recount it. The only glimmer of light amid the smoky pall of destruction was the contents of the root cellar. And yet, we could not survive on vegetables alone. Without the hog meat, the chickens and eggs, the milk and occasional beef, we would starve.

That appeared to be the intention of our foes. There was no credit to be had at the mercantile establishments. We had no surplus foodstuffs to trade for implements to replace the plowshares, hoes, harrows, and other equipment lost in the fire. Harnesses, rope, buckets, barrels, feed—all was gone, and we were left no way to get more.

Pa and I tried to hire ourselves out for any work we could feasibly do. No one with jobs available wanted a Mormon or two working on their place.

On one particularly discouraging day, I reminded my father of the story of young Nephi, who, when his bow lost its spring and his family similarly faced starvation, turned to God for enlightenment. Pa went still for several moments, his face taking on a solemn aspect, and then he agreed that we must use all powers at our disposal. His hand on my shoulder was more praise than words could have said.

We fasted—of necessity, but also with faith and prayer—to find answers to our critical lack of food. Pa finally resorted to using kitchen implements to melt down the pewter candlesticks for shot, while I begged the neighbors for chicken dung so we could manufacture gunpowder. When we had gathered a meager store of both, he and I went hunting, stressed almost to the breaking point by the knowledge that every shot must count. In that manner, I learned to be a marksman.

Using our utmost ingenuity, we crafted snares, and trapped foxes and smaller fur-bearing animals. When we could find no buyers for the skins, we used them to clothe ourselves.

I shot a deer, and Pa brought down a fat bear that had become a neighborhood nuisance from visiting folks' garbage pits. With the meat portioned out on a strict schedule, we hoped to keep our bodies and souls together until spring.
~~~

Thank you for visiting. The Zion Trail will be published early in 2016 as an ebook, and if there is sufficient demand, in print. * To keep up-to-date on when The Zion Trail will be published, along with other new releases, and to learn of special offers and sales, click here to join my Readers email list. In your inbox, you will also receive instructions on how to download a free ebook of my last novel, Gone for a Soldier.

* Contact me using the Contact Form at the right to indicate your desire to purchase The Zion Trail as a print book.

My Goals for 2016

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

Here we are at the last day of the year 2015, and tomorrow will be a brand new year, 2016. I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I gave that up years ago, knowing they would last for at best, two weeks, and at worst, two days.

However, I do set Goals. I've done this for several years now, accomplishing more of what I set out to do than ever before.

I've talked about Goals and Goal Setting before. In 2012 on another blog, I suggested that our goals be obtainable, that is, that we have control over the outcomes, and in 2013, I wrote about three categories into which I had broken down my writing business-related goals for the past year. I noted that writing down the goals in an achievable fashion made them so much easier to accomplish, and that I had completed many of them and had a productive year.

I continued making goal lists in 2014 and 2015, expanding the categories and seeing a lot of forward progress and accomplishments.

For 2016, I have further refined my categories, and have a very ambitious writing and publishing program outlined for myself [Lots of prayers needed for keeping my nose to the grindstone!].

Here are the categories I've defined for 2016 and roughly what they include:

WRITE (works in progress and proposed projects)
WORK WITH OTHERS (cover designers, mostly, but also possibly audio book narrators)
PREPARE/FORMAT (mostly book bundles or new print editions, with some solo releases of previously bundled stories)
MAKE COVER FOR (upcoming releases)
PUBLISH (proposed schedule)
MARKET (expand frequency of mailings to Reader List, updating product interiors, re-doing keywords/categories)
PROMOTE (advertising and co-op sales)
INTERNET PRESENCE (blogging commitments and website upkeep)
EVENTS (what I plan to attend or where I'll present)
SERVICE (how I will give back this year)

I also outlined several business questions I have to address during the coming year.

Now, these goals still have nothing to do with my life outside of writing: my family, church commitments, educational pursuits, friends, and social events. Someday I probably will work them onto the list, but for now, my written goals still focus on the business side of my life.

What process or method do you use to set yearly goals? Does it work to help you achieve them? If not, what changes will you make for 2016?