When I was in high school, I was given a similar assignment: to memorize a poem and recite it in front of the class. Well, remember as a kid when you’d get an assignment like that and realized you were already accidentally prepared? Loved that, didn’t you? Anyway, thanks to my own mother, I had, years before, memorized a poem that she would often recite when doing this and that around the house. Some of you may be familiar with it. It was an epic tale—not quite politically correct by today’s standards, but epic all the same. I will say that my recitation of it bordered on Anne Shirley quality and was well received by my classmates. It goes like this:
Ladies and gentlemen!
Hobos and tramps!
Cross-eyed mosquitoes
And bow-legged ants!
I come before you, to stand behind you,
to tell you a tale I’ve never heard before!
One dark day on a sunny night,
Two dead boys got up to fight!
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other!
A deaf policeman heard the noise
And came and killed the two dead boys.
If you don’t believe this lie—it’s true!
Ask the blind man…
He saw it, too!
Yes, an epically ridiculous moment in my high school career! How embarrassing! But at least I pulled an A+ out of it!
By now you’re wondering why I’m going on and on about poetry, my high school career, and reiterating my purpose in writing stories for you. Well, as you know the past few years have been so wrought with stress for Kevin and me—wrought with health problems, business drama, one of my sons being away from home for two whole years (I know you’ve heard all this whining before, blah blah, poor me). Even though I’d pop up for air here and there and think, Oh, I’m feeling better now! I’m even thinking better now!—it wasn’t true!
To be honest, I think a ton of the reasons I struggled was pressures where my writing was concerned. Some readers want less detail, some want books to be shorter, some want books to be longer, some don’t like a few cuss words, some want more sizzle, some want less sizzle, and some don’t even like poetry! And let me tell you, it gets in your head, you know?
However, as I was finishing up The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich, a lot of things began to fall into place. My editor/friend, for one thing, has helped me, guided me into writing what I want to write for my readers, but in a manner that better fits with what readers demand these days. I’ve also found a balance in my life where reading for my own entertainment is a possibility for me again. I had missed that! I hadn’t read a book (other than comics or children’s books) for literally years! And I’m finding that I do enjoy reading again. Another thing is that my son who has been away for two years is coming home, and that means that the hole that was punched in my heart when he left will be healed and not so distracting to me. Kevin has found a new balance in our business side of things too. 2014 was a precarious year. We almost bought the farm! Oh, wait, that’s a death reference. I think I mean we almost lost our shirts! (Which, in Kevin’s handsome muscular state of body wouldn’t be so bad—but in mine, yikes!)
Another thing I learned was that I’m what’s known as empathic or an empath—not in the supernatural sense, of course, just the personality characteristic sense that many of us have. I think you probably know what empathic or empath means, but just in case, here are a couple of little definitions:
Empathic: The psychological recognition of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of others.
Empath: One who is capable of actually feeling the emotions of others in spite of the fact that they themselves are not experiencing the same condition.
So imagine that you’re empathic and you have a friend who calls you and tells you her mother is passing away. That’s right—the tears flow, the heart aches, just like your friend’s! That’s what happens to me! I mean, I always knew that that sort of thing happened to me, but I never understood how it can drain a person of energy—distract a mind and heart from doing tasks that need doing.
Take for instance the time about fifteen years ago. Having had multiple phone calls one day, I began to feel pretty stressed out. I attributed my stress to three phone calls in particular: (1) A casual friend called to ask me to write a character reference for her to be used in her defense at a trial for embezzlement. Keep in mind I knew the lady had some challenges (i.e., a son with some physical aliments that had found him addicted to prescription drugs and in and out of rehab), but I had no idea she had embezzled money from her place of employment to help pay for his rehab! (2) A casual friend called me to tell me that her son was being charged with raping his girlfriend. (3) A good friend called to tell me that her eldest daughter had come to her and her husband and informed them of some decisions she’d made that were devastating to the family. And that was just three of the phone calls that day. Well, I went about my day, taking care of the kids, fixing supper, even going to a friend’s house and visiting a while. But later than night—long after I’d gone to bed—I suddenly woke up with the feeling that I was going to throw up! And not just throw up—have, you know, Montezuma’s revenge, as well—simultaneously! I raced to the bathroom, sat down on the potty, and as the pain in my body and nausea grew and grew, I began to pray that I wouldn’t die! I couldn’t breathe, I was perspiring like crazy, and all of a sudden, I woke up facedown on my bathroom rug, thinking, I’m sure glad I washed these rugs today!
It took several more incidents of that gravity and a few years for me to figure out that I wasn’t battling some crazy five-minute flu. I was being overpowered by anxiety caused by the way I absorbed everyone else’s stress and feelings.
For a long time I thought I was alone in having these kinds of physical reactions to having empathy for others. I have since learned that I’m not the only one dealing with it. I’ve found some ways to keep from passing out in the bathroom in the middle of the night (although I do keep my bathroom rugs regularly laundered, just in case). (P.S. Guess what? Research has also found that people who struggle with social phobia are usually highly empathic. Voila! Or as my father-in-law would say, Viola!)
Again, what does this have to do with Evangeline’s story? Well, The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich is the last book I’m ever going to write that I don’t thoroughly enjoy writing! It’s also the first book I’ve finished in a long time while, after years of chaos, either things have started to settle down and fall into place a bit more, or I’m just in a healthy state of mind—or both. It’s also the first book I finished in years while giving myself and my brain any reprieve from thinking about the story at all (i.e., watching favorite shows, movies, or reading). It’s the first book in over two years that I’ve written with the knowledge that my youngest son is almost home and therefore my family will feel complete again. And it’s the first book I’ve written in a long, long time where, if the need had arisen (which it didn’t) for me to use the word navel, I wouldn’t have been scared to use it for fear of angry reviews or e-mails!
I’ll wrap it up now, so that, if you’re still awake and reading, you can journey on to whatever tasks are vying for your attention. But before I give you the snippets of Evangeline’s story that you might actually want to read, I will include one last quote from Washington Irving, because when I read this wonderful explanation of why he had written what he did at the end of one of his stories, I read it in awed wonderment—for his purpose in writing had been exactly what my own purpose is—simply to amuse, to chase away sorrow!
P.S. I also love that one of Washington Irving’s pennames was “Geoffrey Crayon”!
Taken from The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., A Christmas Dinner, by Washington Irving, now public domain, first published 1819–1820:
But enough of Christmas and its gambols; it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the questions asked by my graver readers, “To what purpose is all this? How is the world to be made wi
ser by this talk?” Alas! Is there not wisdom enough extant for the instruction of the world? And if not, are there not thousands of abler pens laboring for its improvement? It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct, to play the companion rather than the preceptor.
What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge! Or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others? But in writing to amuse, if I fail the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good-humor with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain.
Yours,
Marcia Lynn McClure
Snippet #1—Hutch’s name: I can’t believe I almost forgot to include this in my snippets! You see, I had just finished the first chapter of The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich and had sent it to my daughter to see if she liked it. Well, lo and behold, she called me and revealed that the first name of my hero for the story (which at the time was “Blank” LaMontagne instead of Hutchner “Hutch” LaMontagne) was the name she was going to give to her next little baby boy (if she has one). Being that she and I are so similar in our thought processes, I had inadvertently fallen in love with a name that she had too! However, being that I would love to have a grandson named “Blank,” I opted to change the hero’s name from Blank to Hutch! I love the name Hutch too—so it’s a win-win for me! And hopefully I’ll get another little grandson one day named Blank!
Snippet #2—Why yes, Doctor Swayze’s name is Patrick—Patrick Swayze! And yes, I was thinking of Patrick Swayze the day I named him. (Marcia Dork Alert #378!)
Snippet #3—While writing The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich, I’d occasionally collapse on the sofa for a bit of downtime in watching a little series called Animal House. It’s a reality show—kind of old, actually, filmed in 2004—about a rescue shelter for animals located in New York. Well, while enjoying an episode of Animal House one evening—an episode focused on a sweet little three-legged dog rescued after Hurricane Sandy—I thought, Hey, Hutch should have a three-legged dog! Truly, I think it was my way of adopting the three-legged dog on Animal House by proxy. And so Hutch has Jones—an adorable, brown, three-legged dog. (FYI—The show did say that the three-legged dog featured on Animal House found a good home. So you can relax about that and not worry.)
Snippet #4—As you’ve probably already guessed, Evangeline’s delicious chicken stew and herb biscuits are based on a family favorite of ours. I can’t even remember where I originally came across this recipe, but over the years I tweaked it until it is what it is today. My kids love this recipe! It’s the ultimate “comfort food” stew, and the soft, herby biscuits (which are actually cooked right on top of the stew) are the crowning yum-yum of the recipe. Knowing how we all love comfort food, I thought I’d include the recipe here, just in case you want to try it. Enjoy!
Chicken Stew and Herb Biscuits
Ingredients for Stew:
1 to 2 pounds chicken
2 to 4 cups carrots (sliced)
2 to 3 medium potatoes (cubed)
1 onion (finely chopped)
3 to 4 celery stalks (chopped)
1 teaspoon rubbed sage
½ teaspoon dried basil
5 to 6 cups chicken broth
Salt and pepper to taste
Boil chicken until it is thoroughly cooked. Remove chicken from broth and set aside. Add enough water to broth to make 5 to 6 cups of liquid. Add vegetables, herbs, salt, and pepper (to taste) to broth and boil until vegetables are tender. Cut chicken into bite-size pieces and add into stew. Set stew to simmering.
Ingredients for Herb Biscuits:
2 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon dried parsley
¼ cup butter
1 cup milk
Mix dry ingredients, and cut in butter with fork. Add milk, and mix into soft, sticky dough. Drop by large spoonfuls (10 to 12) onto simmering stew. (Watch your heat setting; this will stick badly if the bottom of the pan is too hot.) Simmer 10 minutes uncovered, and then cover and simmer for 10 more minutes. Remove biscuits from stew and place on separate serving plate. Serve stew and biscuits together.
Snippet #5—A secret tragedy was narrowly avoided! When Evangeline’s and Hutch’s story was first in my mind, I’m going to confess to you that Jennie died during childbirth. I know, right?!?! How could I have imagined such a thing? Well, tragically, those things did, and do, happen. But Jennie’s death just didn’t set well with me. I wanted Evangeline’s story to be as happy ever after as Amoretta’s and Calliope’s, and I knew if Jennie died, that couldn’t happen—for that would leave Evangeline with another tragic loss in her own life and also rob Hutch of his one sibling. Thankfully I woke up one morning having been able to pull myself out of my strange, tragic way of thinking, and whew! Close call, right?
Snippet #6—In the fall and winter of 2006, two major occurrences unfolded while we were living in Monument, Colorado. The first was what is now known as “The Blizzards of 2006!” Beginning in mid-October that year, we had begun to have tons of snowfall! This made some everyday things very difficult for us—things like getting our boys to school when our quarter of a mile driveway had three or four feet of snow covering it every morning because of snow and wind. But beginning on December 20 of that year, the blizzards really hit! I-25 was closed, as were multiple other major thoroughfares. Maybe you’re thinking, That’s not so bad! Just grab some hot chocolate, a blanket, and a movie! But you see, our daughter, Sandy, was getting married on the December 28—and she, her fiancé, and other family members were driving in or flying at that time. You’ll be so relieved to know that I’m going to make a long story short and tell you what happened in telegram form. More blizzards hit December 28 and 29. Sandy and Soren married on December 28. Guests and family from out of town barely made it through the whiteout conditions to reach our home just after ceremony. Only one fender bender between the cars—mine sliding into Kevin’s. Twenty-one people snowed in at our house for three days—wedding reception canceled. Reception food fed the masses, thank goodness. Sixty-six rolls of toilet paper distributed and used during the three-day snow-in. Kevin spent nine hours on a tractor clearing our driveway, and we literally pushed the first van of guests through the drifts on either side to get them out. Another family made it out, only to find I-25 closed at the New Mexico–Colorado border. Laundry of bedding took me a week to finish up. And the most important thing of all—my poor, beautiful daughter never got any wedding photos at her wedding or reception! Sandy does have some lovely wedding photos that a friend of hers took once Sandy and Soren were back at college. But it never healed the disappointment of not having actual wedding photos, you know? And there you have it—the reason why Hutch made darn sure Evangeline had a beautiful wedding photo of him and her—even though it was taken after they’d been married!
Snippet #7—My mom’s “Earthly Story.” For my last snippet, I’m going to include a little excerpt from a small but wonderful personal history my mom jotted down over twenty years ago when she was laid up after foot surgery. In 1991, grabbing a yellow legal notepad and a pen, Mom hurriedly recorded (in shorthand, mind you) some of her memories of growing up, marriage, having children, and other life experiences. Being that my mom now suffers from dementia and Alzheimer’s, this record (which she did transcribe into something I can read, thank heaven!)—a short, incomplete, but cherished and profound story of her life—is one of my greatest and most beloved treasures! And being that all three books in the Three Little Girls Dressed in Blue trilogy were dedicated to my mom and written with her ever in mind, I thought it would be wonde
rful to share a bit of insight into my mom’s life (i.e., much of the heart of my initial inspiration in writing this trilogy). The reference in this excerpt addressed to “Skeeter” was to me—being that Skeeter was my nickname and the name by which everyone called me until I was more than nineteen years old.
After we moved to South Street, Sharon and I slept in the attic. I’m sure it was very hot in the summer, but I remember the winter. In the winter, our bed would be so cold that we would curl up in tight little balls trying to stay warm. Later in the night, if we wanted to stretch out, no matter how badly we were cramped up, we couldn’t put our feet into the freezing cold reaches of our bed. To compound the situation, our covers were of the make-’em-out-of-whatever-you-had quilts. And, it appears that “heavy” used to mean “warmth.” The ones on our bed were made from large wool and denim scraps with no fluffy batting like we have today. They were all weight and no warmth. Since then I have read that heavy blankets cause one to wake up tired. Every time you breathe, you have to lift all that weight. I believe it. Whenever snow fell, it would sift through the cracks in the shingles on the roof and fall onto our faces.
The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich Page 14