Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

Walt opened the bank door and followed Aunt May to a large mahogany desk where a rather stern-looking man sat.  Deep furrow in his brow indicated he didn't smile very often, and the nameplate in front of him read Harvey Palmer, President.

Palmer?  Cecile Palmeer...were they related?  The question zipped though his mind, but the man's measuring look over the top of his glasses told Walt it wasn't the appropriate time to make small talk, so he didn't ask.

"Good morning, Mr. Palmer," Aunt May said in a very authoriative voice.  "This is my newphew, Walt Williams, and we're here to see about a loan.

Harvey Palmeer offered her a chair and reached over his large desk and shook Walt's hand.  Walt took a seat next to his aunt.

"As you know, Mr. Palmer," Aunt May said, "I own the boarding house in her town.  The reventue provides me with a very comfortable, yet not extravagant lifestyle. "  She pulled a ledger from her handbag and opened it.  "This should offer proof of my income and continuing profits."

He briefly glanced at the figures and flashed a smug smile. “It’s just too bad your boarding house is in… well shall we say, a less then desirable part of town. Word has it that some of the people you cater to have questionable backgrounds.”

She locked gazes with him. “Look, Mr. Palmer, you may not approve of the manner in which I support myself, but as a businessman, you have to admit that loaning me money would be a sound investment.”  She looked at Walt and patted his hand. “My nephew has his heart set on buying a piece of land, and I’m ready and willing to mortgage my boarding house to get the money he needs.”

Walt felt a pang of guilt for putting his aunt under such unpleasant scrutiny on his behalf.

“Well, I don’t know exactly how much I can loan you,” Harvey Palmer countered. “Like I said, location of the collateral property is important.”

“Mr. Palmer, where my boarding house is situated has nothing to do with its worth. It’s the only one in town, and I have proven it’s a solid investment. I expect you to put aside your prejudice and act wisely by granting my request.”

Harvey Palmer steepled his fingers below his chin. “I fear if I loan money on your establishment, I’m going to be overrun with similar requests. I’m sure you understand my predicament.”

***

Just a note.  Cecile Palmer is the banker's daughter and has met and is quite smitten with Walt, and he with her.  This is just the beginning, and Walt wants desperately to whisk Cecile away to the new "ranch" he's trying to buy.  Will Harvey Palmer help him realize a dream, or has Walt just met his nightmare?

Destiny's Bride is available on my Amazon page.

Now hop on over to Juliet Waldon's blog for her Friday Freebits.

FRIDAY FREEBITS WITH GINGER #frifreebits

Slapping reins and creaking wheels disturbed the dawn's silence as Walt drove out of the yard.  Cecile waved on last time then stood shivering until he had disappeared from sight.

Suddenly, the quiet returned, this time bringing a hollow feeling that forced out her tears.  Gazing around through the blur, he realized how truly alone she was.  Just her and the animals, at least that's what she hoped as she ducked inside and closed the front door, sliding the locking bar across it.

The warmth inside felt good  next to the fire.  She choked back her sadness and resolved to be brave.  A little extra work never hurt anyone, and time alone would let her reflect on her life.  Well-earned blisters grated nosily together when she rubbed her palms back and forth over the flames, and she grimaced, knowing she would only earn more with her added chores.  What happened to those blemish-free hands she once had?

Her thoughts turned to Walt.  Where was he now?  Was he thinking of her?  She smiled, picturing his handsome face and appreciating how wonderful he made her feel.  Despite her nervousness at the moment, her life was better because he was part of it.  She looked around the dismal room, realizing she could life anywhere as long as they were together.

Although tempted to crawl back into bed and sleep until her husband came home, she admonished herself for acting so childish.  She donned her work clothes, imagining the look on her father's face if he saw her dressed for farming.  His little girl milking the cow and gathering eggs; he'd faint dead away.  She forced herself out of the cabin's coziness into the cool morning air.

"Okay Bossie, here I come.  My hands are nice and warm for you."



*****
Destiny's Bride is available with my other work at Amazon.  This was my debut novel that earned four stars from The Romantic Times...back in 2003 when it was entitled, Prairie Peace.  If I could redo this novel again, I'd adhere to all the rules I've learned since then.  Thank you Books We Love for giving Cecile another chance.

Sexuality Among the American Indians of the Past by Ginger Simpson

Today, I’m addressing courting and marriage; specifically the presence of plural wives in the tribes of the old west, most notably the Lakota Sioux.  Since Gay Rights are a hot topic in the news these days, I’m also including information about homosexuality among American Indians in the 1800s.

The number of men killed during battle or buffalo hunts was often the reason for having more than one bride.  With honor being the backbone of the American Indian, remaining relatives frequently took on families left behind in the case of death. If one brave had only one wife and his brother was killed, leaving behind two, then it wasn't uncommon for that man to become the husband to three.

Quite often, a singular wife might suggest her spouse marry again to ease her workload while giving her a senior status in the household.  Little is written about the sexual habits in the research books I've used, so I always wonder how accurate our romantic notions are in the novels we create about the American Indian tribes. Thankfully, we write fiction and can enhance what we don't know to be certain. 

archive.constantcontact.com

How surprising to learn of the respect and attention given to males we would today consider homosexuals.  These tribal members were more the transvestite types, called 'winkte,' and although feared to some degree, they weren’t hated. 

Rather than participate in male roles such as hunting and warring, the 'winkte' dressed as women and took up quilling, tanning, and other female duties.  They lived in their own tepees at the edge of camp, which was an area usually reserved for ancient widows and orphans.  I'm not quite sure why there would be orphans since most research indicates the Sioux were very family oriented, and the tribe was considered an extended family who took care of their own, but as I continue to write Western Historical, I’m bound to learn the answer by researching.  Perhaps the ‘orphans’ were of an age that they no longer required care.

But, back on track…the 'winkte' were believed to acquire their 'womanly' skills through supernatural inspiration.  Pieces of work completed by a 'winkte' were considered more desirable and often cherished. Some also deemed the transvestites to have healing powers and sought them out to name their children. Of course, the names were considered secret and not used, but still hopefully strengthened the child.  Girls were never given 'winkte' names.

Although those men who dressed as women were given respect in most ways, male warriors were instructed that even though a 'winkte' lived and worked as a woman, to engage in sexual relations with one was cause for retribution after death.  The belief held that in the land beyond, the warrior wouldn’t be allowed to live in the main circle, but away from the rest where the 'winktes' would torture him.  I suppose it worked as the Sioux held the 'beyond' in the greatest reverence.

There appears to be no documentation of obvious lesbianism among the female tribal members.  This may be attributed to the 'dream' instructions given to young women that warned of avoiding perversion.  Obviously, fear played an important role in instilling the goal of wife and mother, as no record exists of old maids among the Sioux.  I found it very interesting that men were given greater acceptance of their differences while women were more restricted and basically 'scared straight.'

 cover by Michelle Lee

I hope you enjoyed this tidbit of information, so much that you might check out Destiny’s Bride, published by Books We Love, and one of my western historical romance novels that includes similar research about the Lakota, peppered in to give historical credence to my story.  You can find Destiny’s Bride along with my other books on my Amazon author’s page:  http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson on a Saturday #frifreebits

Since I let Diane Scott Lewis use yesterday, I'm officially declaring Saturday, a second Friday... and sharing another six paragraphs from my debut novel, Destiny's Bride.  I really loved this book, and was so flattered when one reviewer compared me to Laura Ingalls Wilder.  She was my inspiration, and I grew up on a steady diet of her books.  Hope you enjoy todays final six:

****

Cecile rocked back and forth, pondering the possibility of motherhood. Footsteps on the porch interrupted her thoughts. Funny, she hadn’t heard the rumble of wagon wheels in the yard, but then she'd been preoccupied. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. Walt was finally home! Her lips spread into a wide smile. 

Tossing her crocheting aside, she prepared to jump up and welcome him home, but before she got out of the chair, the front door flew open and hit the wall, vibrating the whole house. In staggered a stranger…an Indian. Fear seized her throat. Frozen to her chair, she wondered if this was her time to die. 

The man before her was a mirror image of the red-skinned people she’d seen before only in storybooks and magazines, and those tales didn’t portray them kindly. This one wore fringe-trimmed buckskin leggings and shirt, and had long ebony braids. He towered over her; his cold, steely black eyes bored through her. 

Cecile stared back, her mouth agape, trying to accommodate the scream rising in her throat. Strangely, she couldn’t make a sound. Escape entered her mind, but even if her trembling legs supported her, where would she run? 

As quickly as the Indian entered, he fell to the floor at Cecile’s feet. She remained seated for several minutes, dazed, confused, and frightened, waiting for him to move. When he didn’t, she slowly slid off her chair and knelt beside him. 

Was he dead? She gently poked him, and then quickly drew her hand back. Seeing no reaction, she rolled him onto this back and gasped. A spreading crimson stain colored the front of his shirt. He was hurt, and she had to do something. But what? How she wished she wasn’t alone. 

****

Aha...the story takes a turn.  Today I end my sharing from Destiny's Bride and move on to something new.  If you want to know more about Cecile and her adventure, guess you'll have to get your own copy of the book.  Click the link for my Amazon Author's Page.

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

Welcome back to more from Destiny' Bride.  I hope you're enjoying the tidbits I'm sharing so much that you'll want to buy your own copy.  So...on with the story:

****

The pesky rooster crowed as sunlight barely lit the room. For Cecile, he only announced another lonely day filled with tasks she hated. Still tired from yesterday’s chores, she fought the urge to roll over and go back to sleep, but resisted. Although staying within the comfort of the warm and cozy blankets was much more enticing than all the things that had become her responsibility, she threw back the covers and steeled herself against the brisk morning air. 

The rough plank flooring felt icy cold as she moved her bare feet from side to side, searching for her slippers. She pulled on her worn and faded wrapper and, hunching into a shiver, shuffled across to the fireplace. Fingers of morning light touched the pitiful mismatched furniture and rough hewn walls, a grim reminder of her disappointment in her new home, nothing at all like the painted rooms and elegant furnishings in her parents’ place. Who would have guessed that marrying the man of her dreams would bring her miles from civilization to a life that left her feeling older than her actual nineteen years? 

When flames crackled in the fireplace, she opened the door and stared across the prairie, at the fiery orange halo stretching across the horizon. A light breeze blew the knee-high grass back and forth in a rhythmic dance, and drops of dew reflected the rising sun. Goose bumps peppered her arms. Loneliness hung heavy in her heart. 

The chickens foraged the ground for feed, and the cow and horses kicked the wall of the barn, restless for release into the roomier outside pen. Unhappy grunts from the pigsty indicated the sow was ready to eat. Cecile sighed, wondering about Walt. He should have been home by now. Maybe today was the day. She ducked back inside and changed into her work clothes. 

During her husband’s absence, she’d perfected the routine of balancing the outside chores with the inside ones. Thankfully, the weather change lessened the amount of dust seeping through the crooked shutters, giving her a respite from sweeping. With everything done for the day, she sat down to practice her crocheting, noting she was getting pretty good at it. Strangely, the practice piece of knotted yarn was beginning to grow into something resembling a baby blanket. 

Images of a young boy in little coveralls, working alongside his father, filled her head. The lad looked like Walt. The picture switched to a miniature of herself, the Cecile that wore pretty dresses and looked feminine as a child. 

****

As you can see, Walt has gone for supplies, leaving Cecile behind.  She's biding her time, and now believes she's 'with child.'

Until next week...I'll leave you with my Amazon Author's Page in case you can't wait for more.

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

Welcome to Friday...it's time for more of Destiny's Bride.  Hope you enjoy the six I've selected this week.  Remember, last week, Cecile got her first glimpse of Walt's Ranch...the place he plans as their home.  Let's see what happens next:

****

Walt was up before the sun the next morning, eager to get an early start. The cocky rooster crowed as Cecile dragged herself out of bed and slugged toward the kitchen. She’d never been an enthusiastic morning person. After pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot Walt had brewed, she sat at the table, her head propped on her arm, while she willed her eyes to stay open. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

“Umm hmm” she muttered, still dozing. 

When he walked over in sock-clad feet and planted a kiss on her forehead, she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. The truth dawned. He was leaving for Castroville. She squared her shoulders, determined not to make his departure any harder than it had to be, and began gathering food for his trip. While he pulled on his boots, she filled Aunt May’s basket full of biscuits, jam, and the last of the bacon. 

Walt walked up behind Cecile and put his arms around her. “Cece, I hate leaving you here alone, but the sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.” 

She stiffened at his mention of alone. “I know you have to go and that I have to stay here to take care of things, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m miles from nowhere.” She hadn’t meant to add to his guilt for leaving, but her words spilled out before she thought. 

****

Finally settled in their home, Walt has to go for winter supplies, but someone has to stay behind and tend the animals.  You guessed it:  Cecile, and she's not happy.  In fact, she has no idea where she is and where he has to go.

Amazon Author's Page

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

It's Friday and more from Destiny's Bride.  Glad you came, and I hope you're telling your friends what a great time you have sharing teasers from my favorite book.  So...on with my six paragraphs:

****

They passed a lake at the foot of the rise, with water so inviting Cecile wished for a swim, and just beyond, the thick stand of trees Walt had talked of so many times. Her heart fluttered with excitement. They were finally home. 

The team’s shoulder muscles bulged with effort to get the loaded wagon to the crest of the hill. Once there, Walt reined the horses. “Well, here we are.” His gaze trained on the buildings below. 

Cecile blinked her eyes in disbelief. This couldn’t be it. There was no house, just a deserted shack with a terribly rundown barn. There had to be a mistake. She waited for Walt to put an end to his joke. He didn’t, just snapped the reins and set the wagon in motion, stopping in front of the ugliest structure Cecile had ever seen. 

She sat frozen to the wagon seat and looked around. Prairie grass had grown up to the doorway, and in place of glass windows, weather-beaten shutters barely hung on to the aging wood of what Walt called a house. The previous owner had added on a makeshift porch that tilted away from the house and looked unsafe. Her mind spun, remembering his description of his purchase. There were rolling hills in the distance, trees, and they did pass a small lake on the way in, but this couldn’t possibly be what he’d been so excited about. Tears burned the back of her eyes. 

Walt jumped off the wagon and reached to help her down. He looked so happy, she prayed her disappointment didn‘t show. She fixed a smile on her face and leaned over into his waiting arms. 

Despite her attempt at feigned pleasure, he must have detected something amiss. 

****

I guess you're surmised that Walt's description of his ranch doesn't exactly fit what his new bride expects.  I can only imagine her shock.  :)  

Buy link:  Amazon Author's Page.

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

Another Friday, another six paragraphs for you to sample. Continuing with Destiny' Bride, here we go:

***

I notice a particular young man monopolized most of your evening, Cecile.  I didn't recognize him. Who is he?"  Her father halted to light a cigar.

As expected, the conversation turned to the subject she dreaded discussing.  She hesitated before answering, certain her father would find fault with Walt's breeding.  There was no use avoiding the topic.  Tomorrow, when he met with Walt and his aunt about the loan, her father would learn the truth anyway.  Why not show her interest in the mystery man?

"His name is Walt Williams, and he's here visiting his aunt for a few days at her  boarding house." Cecile's tone bordered on defensive.

She turned to her mother.  "He's really very nice. Can I invite him to Sunday supper, can I please, Momma, please, please?"

"Now Cecile, I...."

"No!  That wouldn't be proper."  Her father expressed his opinion in a most resounding manner, leaving his wife with her mouth gaping.  "After all, you've just met, and we know very little about him."  With Father's deep inhalation, the tip of his cigar flickered deep red.

***

As you can probably tell, Walt came to the Spring Fling.  He's actually in town to ask his aunt to help him secure a loan for a "ranch" that is his dream.  Of course, he hasn't put two and two together and figured out that the very gal who caught his eye is the daughter of the town banker.  Until next week...check out Destiny's Bride and my other work on my Amazon Author's Page.

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

It's Friday again.  Boy, don't this weeks fly by?  Today, another installment from Destiny's Bride.  Hope you enjoy it.  It's still September, so don't forget Books We Love's September Select Sale where a number of books are only ninety-nine cents the entire month.  Destiny's Bride is among them.

***



She (Cecile) kicked a splintered piece of wood and

sent it flying.  Why hadn't she asked him more abut himself?  Where was he from or had he ever visited before?  Had he come to town and she just didn't recall?  No way!  She'd certainly remember someone with his good looks.  With any luck, maybe he'd stay in town long enough to come to the upcoming Spring Fling.  Her heart quickened again.

She had never actually met his Aunt May, but knew her by sight.  She was a short, rather plump woman with silver gray hair usually pulled back into a bun.  They had exchanged smiles and pleasantries across the aisles of the mercantile on several occasions, but Cecile's father referred to the woman's boarding house as being on the "wrong side of the tracks."  He forbade Cecile to step foot into that area; warned over and over again it was no place for a respectable young woman to venture.  Cowpokes and drifters traveling through Silver City frequented the saloons nearby.  Sometimes her father was far too judgmental.

So, how could she manage to run into Walt again?  A mental picture of him flashed through her mind, and determination drove her thoughts.

"Afternoon, Miz Cecile," a passing resident called, drawing her from her thoughts.

She gave a quick nod then grimaced.  Afternoon?  Another face emerged in her mind's eye--her father's, and he most likely wasn't happy.  Here she dawdled along thinking about Walt and her father still hadn't eaten.  He'd be furious.  She hastened her steps.

Her mother met her at the door, her brow raised.  Eyeing the stains on Cecile's dress, Mrs. Palmer shook her head.  "My goodness what happened to you?  You're a mess."

***
See, a handsome man can make you lose your mind.  First Cecile tripped and spilled her father's lunch tray all over herself, and now she's just dawdling while her Pa is starving and probably wondering what the heck happened.  He's not the most patient man around.  *lol*  Thankfully, mother rescues her daughter and sends her back with a second tray.  More to come next week, but in the meantime, you can always get your own copy for a mere 99 cents via my amazon author's page.

Friday Freebits with Ginger #frifreebits

Welcome back to my Friday feature.  I finished my teasers from my short-story collection, Discovery, last week, so now I'm going to be sharing tidbits from Destiny's Bride, which is on sale for 99 cents during the Books We Love September Select Sale.  Hope you enjoy my six paragraphs and want to get a copy of your own so you can read every exciting word.  Okay...so I'm biased, but this was my debut novel and I love it..

***

He'd never been in Silver City before, she would have remembered his rugged good looks.  Tight, dark denims clung to his masculine thighs and beneath a black leather vest, open shirt buttons revealed a well-muscled chest.  Her gaze slid boldly down his body, thoroughly enjoying the sight until the reflection of the sun off his silver belt buckle blinded her.  She swallowed and averted her eyes.  What had come over her?  Such brazen leering.  Goodness, she wasn't a harlot.

At almost the same moment that she walked past, he stepped onto the wooden walkway and made eye contact.  He touched his wide hat brim and smiled.  For a second, his blue eyes held her captive.

Suddenly, the weight of the tray she carried tripled and her breathing quickened..  Her cheeks warmed at the crooked smile that told her he knew she'd been staring at him.  In her haste to escape the embarrassment behind the bank's doors, just a few steps away, she caught her heel in a large knothole.  She tried to recover gracefully but fell flat on her bottom with a resounding plop.  Her dignity suffered as she realized how pitiful she looked with her father's lunch spilled all over her.  Luckily, most of the mashed potatoes and gravy landed on the ground, but the vegetables and ham slices filled her lap.

Before she could stand, he knelt at her side, plucking green beans from her dress.  "Are you all right ma"am?" His quivering lips failed at masking his desire to laugh.

She'd just made a fool of herself in front of the most handsome man she'd ever seen.  Of course she wasn't all right  What must he think?

Managing a weak smile and struggling for some semblance of composure, she accepted his proffered hand. While avoiding his gaze, she nervously smoothed wet wrinkles from her dress.  "Yes, I'm fine," she croaked. "Thank you for your help."  Her voice trembled in unison with her insides.


****
I've just taken a passage from the start of the novel, where Cecile Palmer meets her future husband...oh, but her fate takes an unusual turn which I'll get to during the course of the next few offerings.  In the meantime, if you want to take advantage of a great sale, you can find Destiny's Bride on my Amazon page.

Ginger Simpson asks...Vision Quests Anyone?

No, you aren't imagining things.  With Rita convalescing with a bum wrist and me sick with asthmatic bronchitis, I'm taking a lead from TV and sharing a 'rerun'....a blog I did for Cowboy Kisses  I think the topic is most interesting, and I hope you do too.

I've always been the kind of mother who worried if my child wasn't home the moment I expected them.  Rather than chalk the tardiness up to just being late, I pictured them kidnapped, dead in a ditch, the most horrible scenarios one could imagine.  I've always been that way, so I can't imagine being an Indian mother and sending my son off on a vision quest.

www.native-americans-online.com

What is a vision quest you ask?  In most tribes this trek into the wilderness to bond with nature and commune with spirits was a young brave's initiation into manhood.  Usually clad only in a breechclout and moccasins, the lad is banished to a lonely existence in a vision pit where he'll stay for four days and nights without food.  Whether the vision he receives is from delirium or truly a spiritual occurrence, we may never know, but to the Indian nation, a vision quest gave the budding brave an experience to see life through the eyes of his heart...to determine an image of himself as an adult.  As in all rituals, preparation aided the participant for his journey, in this case, time spent in a sweat lodge purifying his mind and soul.

Now I've raised another question.  Sweat Lodge?  Usually a small and beehive shaped structure of willow

http://www.barefootsworld.net/sweatlodge.html

covered with buffalo skins in which stones heated outside were passed inside where water was poured on them to create a purifying steam. With the flap closed, occupants (all male) sat naked inside with the boy, chanting and praying, and claiming to hear spirit voices.  Afterwards, the  steamed  men dried themselves with sage leaves and the boy left for his quest.  A very similar ritual took place before each war party departed the village.  Unlike a women's first menses, which was a once in a lifetime celebration, vision quests took place as frequently as a Lakota Brave needed spiritual help.

When a young brave returned from his quest, his visions were interrupted by a medicine man who gave him clues to his  adult  name and the animal that would henceforth be considered the lad's protector.  For instance, a man might garner power from an elk, while another might have envisioned a bear during his quest.  Each animal represented a particular skill or attribute such a bravery, healing, speed, etc.

The Lakota Sioux are a fascinating tribe, and I'm so happy to be able to share some of their legendary history with you.  In my novel, Destiny’s Bride, my heroine takes up residence among the Sioux and learns very quickly that they, like the white men, have hearts and souls. I’d like to address the two one-star ratings I received, but I’m just going to bite my tongue and remind myself that some people just don’t GET every story they read.  Clearly, in this case, two people didn’t.  You can find all my books on my Amazon author’s page: http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson.  Please also visit my website at http://www.gingersimpson.com.

Sunday Snippet - by Ginger Simpson

Welcome to Snippet Sunday
The rules are simple. 

1. Sign up in the Linky List below. The Linky List will go live 12:01AM Monday and will close at 11:59PM Saturday night every week.
2. Post 6 paragraphs (no more, no less) from either a WIP or a published work. The post must be live by 9:00AM Sunday.
3. Open to both un-published and published authors.
4. Post the link back to Sneak Peek Sunday so that others can hop along. Feel Free to copy and use the Banner on your own blog or to promote your entry.
5. HAVE FUN!!




From beneath her lashes, Cecile saw him approaching, though she pretended not to notice. Her breath caught in her throat as he neared.

“May I have this dance?”

His husky voice brought chills to the back of her neck, and she realized she had sprung to her feet before even verbalizing her acceptance.

Thank goodness the musicians played a waltz. Being held in his arms seemed like a dream; everything she’d fantasized about for the past few days was coming true. She peered over to where her girlfriends gathered, hoping they’d noticed. Meanwhile her mind spun, trying to think of something to say to him, but she decided not to spoil the moment by making idle conversation. She longed to rest her head on his wide shoulder and lean the length of her body against his but propriety held her back.

His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer, yet maintaining a proper space between them. The ripple of muscles beneath her hand and the masculine smell of his clean, cotton shirt stirred feelings new to her—her stomach clenched with excitement when she noticed her friends watching. If only time would stand still. But the song ended, and they stepped apart and applauded.

“Would you mind if we sat?” she asked, feeling a little giddy and unsteady on wobbly legs.

Writing as a Pantser by Ginger Simpson

Many readers don't know the difference between a plotter and a pantser, so let me explain.  The term "pantser" evolved from "seat of the pants" which is how people describe those of us who don't plan out our storyline in advance. 

When I  sat down in 2000 to write my first novel, I listened to the character's voice in my head, eager to hear what she had to say.  Cecile Palmer came to me, already named, with a book title in mind, and a story to tell.  I simply provided the fingers to do the typing.  I loved the process  and still do to this day.  Transcribing her every movement and thought made me feel as though I'd become a child again, having my mother read me a bedtime story. But...when Cecile stopped talking, I stopped writing and hungered for more.  Each day brought me to the keyboard, filled with excitement to discover new territory, meet her new husband, and learn how she would fare once she married and moved to the prairie.  Boy was I surprised.

I love being a pantser, and it's a good thing because plotting never works for me.  Over the years, I've had a myriad of voices in my head, and the one who screams loudest is the one to get my attention.  There have been many times I have more than work-in-progress because my stars are so insistent.  The only problem I've come across:  when the character is done, so is the book, and if they decide to turn mute in the process, that's when I get what's called "writer's block."

The silence is often welcome or a hint that I need to find a more sedate place to reconnect with my character(s).  If one doesn't want to talk to me, I usually have others who will.  Being a pantser is a unique style that I share with many other authors, but plotters and pantsers usually aren't interchangeable.  You're either one or the other, and we don't see eye-to-eye on how to write.

 While plotters outline their stories, name their characters and struggle with titles, I've been fortunate to have leading stars who come to me with all that information already in mind.  I've gone with their choices, and I've been lucky to have a collection of full-length novels, novellas and short stories available.  Right now, I have three WIPS.  One started with a quiet character who only speaks when she's in the mood.  A second starring a young woman who hasn't yet decided what's going to happen in her time-travel to modern day, and a sequel to a relationship book I've already written.  Thanks to my blogging buddy's praise and yearning to read more, Cassie Fremont has returned with a new story to relate.  I'm excited and I was up at five because Cassie wanted to introduce me to her cast and let me know her title.  She showed up at the best possible time.

Oh...just so you know...here's how the then Cecile Palmer began her story in Silver City on my first day of writing in the year 2000:

Dakota Plains, 1867

Cecile’s gaze froze on the striking man leaning against the hitching post. Her heart seized with a gasp as she nearly stepped off the edge of the wooden walkway. She turned her attention back to delivering her father’s mid-day meal, but fixed a smile on her face and slowed her pace, hoping to catch the stranger’s eye.

He’d never been in Silver City before; she would have remembered his rugged good looks. Tight, dark denims clung to his masculine thighs, and beneath a black leather vest, open shirt buttons revealed a well-muscled chest. Her gaze slid boldly down his body, thoroughly enjoying the sight until the reflection of the sun off his silver belt buckle blinded her. She swallowed and averted her eyes. What had come over her? Such brazen leering. Goodness, she wasn’t a harlot.

At almost the exact moment that she walked past, he stepped onto the sidewalk and made eye contact. He touched the wide brim of his hat and smiled. For a second, his blue eyes held her captive.

Suddenly, the weight of the tray tripled, and her breathing quickened. Her cheeks warmed at the crooked smile that told her he knew she’d been staring at him. In her haste to escape embarrassment behind the bank’s doors, just a few steps away, she caught her heel in a large knothole in the wooden sidewalk. She tried to recover gracefully but fell flat on her bottom with a resounding plop, hitting the wood so hard it jarred her teeth. Her dignity suffered as she realized how pitiful she looked, with her father’s lunch spilled all over her. Luckily, most of the mashed potatoes and gravy landed on the ground, but the vegetables and ham slices filled her lap.

 Before she could stand, he knelt at her side, plucking green beans from her dress. “Are you all right, ma’am?” His quivering lips failed at masking his desire to laugh.

She’d just made a fool of herself in front of the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Of course she wasn’t all right. What must he think?

Managing a weak smile and struggling for some semblance of composure, she accepted his proffered hand. While avoiding his gaze, she nervously smoothed wet wrinkles from her dress.“Yes, I’m fine,” she croaked. “Thank you for your help.” Her voice trembled in unison with her insides.

“Name’s Walt Williams,” he said, when she finally made eye contact. “I’m visiting my Aunt May. She owns the boarding house here.”

Lost in his azure eyes, Cecile heard very little of what he said. Aware of her bold stare she glanced down, trying not to be so obvious. The evidence of her accident jolted her memory.

“Oh, my gosh…Father’s expecting me!” Although reluctant to leave, she dared not dawdle. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Williams, and I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to hurry home to replace my father’s lunch. He must be wondering where I am.”

Again the stranger touched the brim of his hat. “Mighty nice meeting you, too, Miss...”

“Cecile, Cecile Palmer.” She offered a brief introduction while stooping to retrieve the tray, utensils and her mother’s good china plate that somehow remained intact.

Before taking her leave, she flashed a warm smile, hoping the memory of this incident would fade from Mr. Witman’s mind. She gave a little wave and started for home, tutting in disgust and pulling at the dampened material that insisted on clinging to her legs. The cloying gingham and the glob of potatoes on her shoe served as grim reminder of a ruined opportunity.

 Why couldn’t she have met Walt after delivering Father’s lunch? Her thoughts refused to focus on anything else other than Walt Williams. What a grand name. Repeating it over and over again in her mind, she wondered if she’d ever see him again.

She kicked a splintered piece of wood and sent it flying. Why hadn’t she asked him more about himself? Where was he from or had he ever visited before? Had he come to town and she just didn’t recall? No way! She’d certainly remember someone with his good looks. With any luck, maybe he’d stay in town long enough to come to the upcoming Spring Fling. Her heart quickened again.

She had never actually met his Aunt May, but knew her by sight. She was a short, rather plump woman with silver gray hair usually pulled back into a bun. They had exchanged smiles and pleasantries across the aisles of the mercantile on several occasions, but Cecile’s father referred to the woman’s boarding house as being on the “wrong side of the tracks.” He forbade Cecile to step foot into that area; warned over and over again it was no place for a respectable young woman to venture. Cowpokes and drifters traveling through Silver City frequented the saloons nearby. Sometimes her father was far too judgmental.

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If you'd like to read more....Destiny's Bride (Previously Prairie Peace) is offered on my Amazon page with all my other work.