The Ghosts Behind Paranormal Romance Novel Somewhere My Love–Beth Trissel

A Night Owl Top Pick: “The story will draw a reader in and will not let go until the very last page. It is a novel that will live in the hearts of its readers for a very long time.”

June is when I conceived the idea for Somewhere My Love, so time for a backwards glance.

Virginia has more ghost stories than any other state in the Union, umpteen volumes of them. Not because Virginians have a more fertile imagination (although we may) but sadly because the Old Dominion has seen more bloody battles over the centuries than any other. Think back, Jamestown (founded 1607) was the site of the oldest successful English settlement and its history is a violent one. And on we go to the many heart-rending wars fought with the usurped Indians, a number of them waged on Virginia soil. March on to the Revolution; anyone heard of Yorktown, to name just one famous battle? And let’s not forget that horrific most uncivil of wars, much of it fought in, you guessed it, Virginia.

This multitude of hauntings doesn’t only feature soldiers caught in an endless fray who haven’t gotten word the war’s over, although there are legions of tales that do and entire companies of ghosts said to battle on. Many tales center on the myriad of people, great and small, who dwelt in our richly historic state. The old Virginia homes and plantations have accumulated a wealth of such stories.

It was while touring some of these English styled manor homes with my dear mother that the kernel of a story first came to me for Somewhere My Love (Somewhere in Time Series).  Added to this meld of vintage Virginia is my own heritage. On my father’s side, I descend from old Southern gentry, impoverished after the Civil War, Great Depression, and other misfortunes, including the untimely death of my brilliant grandfather. But the gracious Georgian home his ancestor built (circa 1816) still stands in the countryside near historic Staunton.  My Christmas novella, Somewhere the Bells Ring (Somewhere in Time Series), was inspired by this wonderful old home.

Since childhood, I felt the family home place was haunted and wove stories through my fevered mind, along with my continual search for Narnia which entailed frequent treks into the old wardrobe. But I digress. Frequently.  The magnificent ancestral portraits in my family and on display in other Virginia homes held me transfixed, wondering. And it was just such a portrait of a striking dark-haired gentleman who embedded himself in my thoughts. Who was he? Why did he die so young? That other painting of the fair young lady…did she love him?

Often, the guides at these old homes are brimming with tales. But other times we are left to wonder…and ask ourselves are these folk who’ve gone before us truly gone, or do some still have unfinished business in this realm? And what of the young lovers whose time was tragically cut short, do they somehow find a way? Love conquers all, and so I answer ‘yes.’

*Homes most prominent behind the inspiration for Somewhere My Love:

Berkely Plantation (On the James River & well worth a visit)

Family home place called Chapel Hill (Not open to the public)

Shirley Plantation (On the James River & well worth a visit)

Blurb For Somewhere My Love:

Fated lovers have a rare chance to reclaim the love cruelly denied them in the past, but can they grasp this brief window in time before it’s too late?

Two hundred years ago Captain Cole Wentworth, the master of an elegant Virginian home, was murdered in his chamber where his portrait still hangs. Presently the estate is a family owned museum run by Will Wentworth, a man so uncannily identical to his ancestor that spirit-sensitive tour guide Julia Morrow has trouble recognizing Cole and Will as separate. As Julia begins to remember the events of Cole’s death, she must convince Will that history is repeating, and this time he has the starring role in the tragedy. The blade is about to fall.~

“As I read Somewhere My Love, I recalled the feelings I experienced the first time I read Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca long ago. Using the same deliciously eerie elements similar to that gothic romance, Beth Trissel has captured the haunting dangers, thrilling suspense and innocent passions that evoke the same tingly anticipation and heartfelt romance I so enjoyed then, and still do now.” ~joysann for Publisher’s Weekly

***Somewhere My Love is available at Amazon in kindle and print, but I expanded the story for the relaunched kindle version, so more for less.

Fairy Alert–Beth Trissel

Some of you may remember earlier posts inspired by our resident fairy expert, my niece Cailin, now eight. A soulful eyed sprite, Cailin glimpses a realm unknown to most of us, though imagined by me.  She creates homes for fairies in her backyard and assures me that they love my garden, even have a fairy school here. Good to know my flowers are appreciated by these ephemeral beings. Cailin and her fairy friends have enhanced our lives with wonder.  Big news–she discovered her first baby fairy.

Sunday afternoon I received an excited phone call from Cailin with descriptions of this marvelous find, also questions as to how she should care for such a unique infant. While Cailin and I were speaking her teenage sister, Lizzy, walked in the door to cries of, “Lizzy! Look! I found a baby fairy!”

The story of Cailin and her latest fairy find, Taler, is a fascinating revelation, one that unfolds daily as she learns more about her new charge. As my sister tells the tale: “I was downstairs doing laundry when Cailin came rushing down the stairs. I heard, “Mama! Mama! Guess what?! Guess what I have in my hands?!” Her hands were cupped, and held close together, her face with an expression of sheer delight and anticipation as she couldn’t wait for me to see and discover what was in her hands. She then said, “I found it in the grass, and Andy (her stepfather) said I can keep it! He said I can keep it and take care of it!” (*Image of Cailin and her fairy,  Taler, above.)

I was a little hesitant, and asked her to show me what she held. She carefully opened her hands so her treasure wouldn’t fly off and looked up at my face, knowing I would be just as excited as she was…then it dawned on her that I couldn’t see it. She said, “It’s an ‘everything fairy’ – that’s why it’s invisible” (well,  to most). She explained she was walking along with Sara (her sister) and they were having fun with “Mr Moustache” (the caterpillar they’d discovered) when “out of the corner of my eye,” she says she saw a glimmer in the grass. Before it got stepped on or stolen, she reached down and scooped it up just in time.

At first Cailin didn’t understand why she’d be there, a little baby fairy, all alone. She feared her parents had abandoned her. But then Taler told her the whole story as the evening wore on. Apparently, her parents were trying to hide her from the Wind fairies (a terrible whooshing sort of fairy that would want to get her as an infant and raise her as one of their own). They hadn’t abandoned her, they were trying to protect her. Cailin said she still needs to watch out for the wind fairies, because they’re still searching for her. Taler (very sparkly) may be of royal blood as well. And, an everything fairy is quite rare. She has the potential for amazing powers. After the enthusiasm of showing me her fairy had calmed for a second, she asked, “How do I take care of a baby fairy? I’ve never taken care of one before.” That’s when I announced, “We should call your Aunt Beth. She might have some good ideas about that.”

And I did, of course. I suggested a small warm box lined with something soft for a bed and a diet of nectar, honey or sugar water, hoping she doesn’t attract ants, as a butterfly is the closest creature I can compare a fairy to.

(Playground for fairies and bed, with tiny teddy, for Taler)

Also of interest to note, Cailin was hoping Taler would be more turquoise, because that’s her favorite color, but Taler is pink and purplish, also has tiny stripes on her arm–a recent discovery. Cailin isn’t yet sure why. When she first found Taler, furled wings concealed much of her, but as they’ve opened Cailin is better able to see more of her. Oh, and Taler can teleport. Not from room to room, but her house to mine, one place to another. With help, I think Cailin should make Taler’s story (and more) into a book. Stay tuned. The adventure of Cailin and her fairies may be coming to an Amazon near you.

(Cailin and her fairy garden pictured above. Drawing of Taler.)

Gardening and Country Life in the Shenandoah Valley–Beth Trissel

This has been a challenging week in the garden weather wise–a hard freeze Monday night took a punishing toll and then the temps soared Wednesday and hot winds blew. My poor plants. The past few days have been blessedly mild and I’ve done as much damage control as I can. Fortunately much of what I grow is tough, plus I’m planting out new seedlings I grew in my greenhouse. This is one weary gardener with much left to do. On a brighter note, daughter Elise got our her camera and took some lovely and endearing shots that remind me why I bother. For better or worse, this is my life and I wouldn’t trade it. There’s nothing like living in the country, especially the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. But I’m praying for rain. A light mist is falling now. More, please, but not a flood. You have to be very specific with your weather prayers. Onward ho.

(Very hardy late season lilac with the sweetest blooms)

***Mama Goose taking our latest goslings on an amble.

Eons ago husband Dennis bought two pair of barnyard geese because I was into decoupaging eggs. That hobby has long since passed, but the geese have thrived. They eat grass, peck corn that spills from cow feed, and swim on the pond. We have a cantankerous gaggle that are part of the farm and always will be.

Below is a pic of our two bantam roosters, buddies and brothers, who have the run of the place and roost on the rafters in the barn at night, which keeps them safe. My daughter in law, who has chickens, gave us this pair. The few times she’s tried to add a hen it becomes a quick snack for some predator or other. Everything eats chickens. I’d like to have hens that can free range like these roosters but they’d have to be big and strapping, and learn to roost at night like the boys. The barn kitties get along with the roosters and the geese. An odd mix but they sort it out.

Historical Romance Novel Through the Fire at Kindle Nation Daily–Beth Trissel

To see the feature on Through the Fire visit Kindle Nation Daily

I recently revised and relaunched Through the Fire. This is the expanded director’s cut for those of you who want to be more fully emerged in the colonial American frontier and an adventure romance with a The Last of the Mohican’s flavor. This primal, essential time period has always had a huge draw on me and is the setting for many of my books, including: The Bearwalker’s Daughter, Red Bird’s Song, Kira, Daughter of the Moon, A Warrior for Christmas (now in audio), and my short story, The Lady and the Warrior.

The history my stories draw from is raw and real, a passionate era where only the strong survive.  We think we’ve gained much in our modern era, and so we have.  But we’ve also lost.  In my writing, I try to recapture what should not be forgotten.  Hearken back.  Remember those who’ve gone before you.

***A special thanks to Jim Great Elk Waters, Pipecarrier, retired Shawnee Chief and linguist, author, artist, and philosopher, for his help with the Shawnee language.

“Through the Fire is full of interesting characters, beautifully described scenery, and vivid action sequences. It is a must read for any fan of historical romance.” ~Poinsettia, for Long and Short Reviews

Story Description:

Will love inflame these two natural-born enemies in fiery destruction?

Passions run deep in the raging battle to possess a continent, its wealth and furs. Both the French and English count powerful Indian tribes as their allies. English lady Rebecca Elliot, having eloped to America with a British captain, finds herself a widow. When she ventures into the colonial frontier with the militia to seek her uncle, she unwittingly enters a dangerous world of rugged mountains, wild animals, and even wilder men. The rules are different here and she doesn’t know them, especially those of the savagely handsome warrior who captures her body and her heart.

Half-Shawnee, half-French warrior Shoka, former guide for English traders, is the hawk, swift, sure, and silent as the moon. He knows all about survival in this untamed land and how deadly distraction can be. His intent is to sell Rebecca to the French before she draws him under her spell, but if he lets her go he can no longer protect her. If he holds onto her, can he safeguard his heart? Will Rebecca, torn between a growing attraction to her magnetic captor and loyalty to her people, betray him? With battle looming and an enemy warrior bent on vengeance, Shoka and Rebecca must decide whether to fight together or be destroyed.

The French and Indian War, A Shawnee Warrior, An English Lady, Blood Vengeance, Deadly Pursuit, Primal, Powerful, Passionate…Through the Fire.

***Through the Fire is Currently At Amazon in Kindle for .99 

***Cover by my daughter Elise Trissel

May in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia–Beth Trissel

This excerpt is from my nonfiction book about gardening and country life, Shenandoah Watercolors, a 2012 Epic eBook Finalist, available from Amazon in kindle, and now paperback with lovely photographs taken by my talented family.

May

“The quality of mercy is not strained,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven,

Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes…”

~William Shakespeare

The heavy rain has given way to a misting drizzle, but streams of water pour down from the hills and make new ponds and creeks. It’s chilly with that raw wet feel. This spring is awash in moisture and amazing after last summer’s searing drought. I’m struck by the intense beauty around me, and I thought I was already seeing it, but it’s so much more somehow. The grass seems to shimmer, yet there’s no sun out today, and the meadow is so richly green it’s like seeing heaven.

Our barnyard geese are enraptured, as much as geese can be, with all the grass. If there’s a lovelier place to revel in spring than the Shenandoah Valley and the mountains, I don’t know it. Narnia, maybe.

I’ve been thinking about my favorite places. The pool I like best lies in the woods near a place called Rip Rap Hollow in the Blue Ridge Mountains. A splendid falls cascades up above, but I like the pool far more. We always meant to go back, but never have. The cold water ripped through me like liquid ice and is as clear as melted crystal.

I could see the rocks on the bottom, some slick with moss, others brown-gold in the light where the sun broke through the leafy canopy overhead. Trout hid beneath big rounded stones or ones that formed a cleft, but the men tickled them out to flash over the flat rocks strewn across the bottom like a path. Drifts of hay-scented fern rose around the edges of the pool, warming the air with the fragrance of new mown hay, and made the shady places a rich green.

Now, that’s a good place to go in my mind when I’m troubled. The problem with cities is that people don’t learn what really matters. Don’t really feel or know the rhythms of the earth. When we are separated from that vital center place, we grow lost. Sadly, most people will never know what they are lost from, or where they can be found.~

***Goose update. We spotted four new goslings yesterday.

*Images of the meadow and wooded hills above our farm taken by daughter Elise, Dark Hollow Falls in the Blue Ridge Mountains, a royalty free image, Kitten and baby goose taken by my mom, Pat Churchman

 

Come Into The Garden–Beth Trissel

To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.  ~Beverly Nichols

The lighting this morning was exquisite and Elise took some pics of the garden. Now it’s pouring rain again and thundering, but for a time, it was heavenly. So join me for a tour of my lovely May Garden. I think May is the most exquisite time of year. Balm for the soul.

“I hope some day to meet God, because I want to thank Him for the flowers.” ~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com

If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom. ~Terri Guillemets

(***A shorter form of iris)

No two gardens are the same.  No two days are the same in one garden.  ~Hugh Johnson

***Wood hyacinths given to me by my late Great Uncle Houston, like fairy bells.

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.  ~Walt Whitman

From an aunt, long ago:  “Death has come for me many times but finds me always in my lovely garden and leaves me there, I think, as an excuse to return.”  ~Robert Brault

Many things grow in the garden that were never sown there.  ~Thomas Fuller,Gnomologia, 1732

My garden is my favorite teacher.  ~Betsy Cañas Garmon,www.wildthymecreative.com

Shall we compare our hearts to a garden —
with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds,
swooping birds and sunshine, rain —
and most importantly, seeds.
~Terri Guillemets

(Late season multi-colored Tulips)

I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself.  And I find sufficient purpose for my day.  ~Robert Brault

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
~Dorothy Frances Gurney, “Garden Thoughts”

Gardening is civil and social, but it wants the vigor and freedom of the forest and the outlaw.  ~Henry David Thoreau

Where man sees but withered leaves,
God sees sweet flowers growing.
~Albert Laighton

(Late season tulips that are just gorgeous)

That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ.
And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.
~Winifred Mary Letts

And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, “The Sensitive Plant“

Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.  ~Ellis Peters
Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men.  ~Chinese Proverb
(***Tulips with our old red barn in the background)

The naked earth is warm with Spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun’s kiss glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze.
~Julian Grenfell

I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring.  Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature’s rebirth?  ~Edward Giobbi

Spring has returned.  The Earth is like a child that knows poems.  ~Rainer Maria Rilke

(Heirloom orange-red poppies that have bloomed every May here forever)

The sun has come out… and the air is vivid with spring light. ~Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens

Images from my May garden by daughter Elise

 

Real ghost stories from the man who 'foretold' his own death

Reblogged from freaky folk tales:

• 

Recently, I have been fascinated by the life and works of William Thomas Stead, the man who 'foretold' his own death.

William Thomas Stead was a writer who campaigned for social and political change. He also pursued an interest in the uncanny, in particular spiritual phenomena and the supernatural. In an eerie instance of foreshadowing, Stead wrote a fictional story about a ship run by a Captain Smith facing dangerous icebergs in the early 1890s.

Read more… 670 more words

Fascinating!