OLD WOUNDS Revisited

                                                                           

I blame the Solstice. This somewhat dreamy time had me remembering, or trying to remember odds and ends from years past. And then I began thinking of Old Wounds, probably my most personal book. 

While there's a lot that is fictional--the plot and the people and the relationships, there's much that is based on our first years on the farm. So I re-read it.

I reread stuff all the time. And while I was writing this one, I read it over and over. But a lot of time has passed and I found myself caught up in the story, even as I nodded each time I saw words in a character's mouth and remembered where they'd come from. Elizabeth's mother's complaint about the outhouse, for instance, is a word for word quote from my own mother.

Elizabeth and her daughter Rosemary are great readers and oddly enough, they love the same books I do. (At the beginning of the book Rosemay is reading The Dark Is Rising, which I just finished rereading.)

It's been quite a while since I last read Old Wounds--long enough that I'd actually forgotten the identity of the killer. Looking back, I'm amazed that I managed such a convoluted plot. 

And I was amused to see that the irrepressible young Laurel has a lot in common with Josie--who didn't show up till about ten years after the book was published.

I was less amused to see that in one chapter I had called the county seat of Elizabeth's Marshall County Ridley instead of Ransom. This, after multiple times proofreading. And a professional copyeditor.

Still and all, I'm right proud of this one--if only for my own entertainment. Write the book you want to read, is advice given to writers. And I evidently did.

Re-posting Re-reading

 

A post from a few years back of this. I miss Elizabeth and Birdie and the gang . . . but have no intention of writing another one. Sometimes it's good to know when you're done. 

I can remember nights in my workroom, struggling to meet a deadline, and I can remember when I first realized that I didn't want to do this forever. Six novels seemed like a respectable number. And I wanted to give Elizabeth a break from all the murders. So I did and plunged into researching the Shelton Laurel Massacre for what would be my last novel, And the Crows Took Their Eyes. But it's fun to look back . . .

 I found myself taking a notion to spend some more time with Miss Birdie and read her book -- The Day of Small Things. Of course I've read it before -- many times -- while I was writing it and re-writing it and proof-reading it over and over. But none of these are the same as just reading for fun -- with the writer/editor eye turned off. And enough time had passed that, at times I could forget I'd written it and just read . . .

I was so pleasantly surprised that I picked up Signs in the Blood  and read it. It was better than I remembered, if I say it myself.  Again there was that strange disconnect between reader and writer -- I kept coming across little family jokes and little odds and ends that are parts of my past . . .

As  I always say, Elizabeth isn't me -- but we share a lot -- Little Sylvie's cabin next door . . . the dogs . . .

She and Phillip sat on my blue bench . . .

In Art's Blood - yes, I kept on reading right through the rest of the books -- Elizabeth and Kyra make wreaths in her workshop -- John's workshop in my world . . .  as was, before the fire.

Old Wounds gets very close to my world -- Elizabeth and family live in this barn while they are building their house in 1984 -- just as my family lived in it in 1974 while building that same house . . .

(I hasten to add that, unlike my unruly Elizabeth, I was never tempted by a charming neighbor -- nor by a bedroom-eyed snake handling preacher either.)

Every time I go to town I drive past this brick building that is the home of the enigmatic Troll of In a Dark Season. 

And sometimes I kind of expect to hear mariachi music floating from Justin and Claui's house -- home to Elizabeth's Mexican farm hands Julio and Homero in Under the Skin.

Rereading these books was a surprising experience in that I became  the reader not the writer and I kept finding myself thinking, Why, that's just the way I'd say that or That sounds familiar only to realize suddenly, Well, duh . . .

I also realized that I am now (much) closer in age to Miss Birdie than Elizabeth (who was ten years younger than I when the first book came out in 2005. ) 

It was an interesting experience, reading right through those books that took over six years to produce -- reading right through them in less than two weeks. 

And now, I'm tempted to do it again . . .

Rosie's World (repost)

                                                        

Of course, many of you know that I base the Goodweather farm in the Elizabeth Goodweather Mysteries on ours. So, let's pretend for a moment, that we're in the setting for Old Wounds.

The top picture shows the barn (lower right) the Goodweathers lived in while building their house. To the left and a little above the barn is the chicken house (hard to see but important to the story.) Higher up is Elizabeth's house and to the right of that, you can make out Ben's cabin (or Little Sylvie's in Signs in the Blood). The multi-tiered garden starts just above the chicken coop.

                                         

  

The second picture is taken on the road that runs along the top of the pasture and into the woods. (We call it 'the New Road' as it was bulldozed for us only about 35 years ago. It doesn't actually go anywhere -- its purpose is mainly to provide a way to get the tractor or our little utility vehicle into the woods for firewood or for hauling fencing supplies.)

This is the road Elizabeth often takes a walk on and the big tree to the left is where the deer stand that the young Maythorn used as a spy post would have been. And this is where the young Rosemary followed her mother on a cold winter day, with an unwelcome result.

She trotted down the path, smiling to think how surprised her mother would be when she

appeared. A little way on and the path veered sharply as it wrapped around the mountainside. Just beyond that turn was one of the benches Pa had made for Mum so she could sit and look at the view. Maybe she would be there. Humming, Rosemary hurried on.

In the late eighties I (me, Vicki, not Elizabeth) used to walk our two Akitas on this path daily. They were large (over a hundred pounds each) dogs and, though lovely with people, completely murderous around any other animals (dogs, cats, chickens, etc.) So they had to be kept in the house and exercised on the leash. Once, when we had just hit this stretch of very uphill path, a squirrel ran across the road in front of us. Both dogs lunged at it, pulling me down, splat on my face. I hung on to the leashes like grim death and the dogs kept going, towing me behind them like a particularly inept water-skier. When finally, after they'd dragged me almost to the top of the hill, I managed to stop them and stand up, the top of my head was completely covered with dirt and leaf mold.

I digress. The last picture, if you'll look closely is of Froghead, the rock that sticks out of the pasture like a granite thumb, the place where Rosie first meets Maythorn. My boys gave it that name and it was a favorite hangout of theirs. Higher up the mountain above the house, is what they called the cave -- actually a little shelter under some huge boulders that lean against each other. This, of course, was the inspiration for Rosie and Maythorn's Cave of Two Sisters.                         

                                             

But, and some people have asked about this, there is no Mullmore, no faux-Tudor mansion on the other side of the ridge. I do use my imagination for some stuff!

Were You Raised in a Barn? (Repost)

My older boy is able to answer that question affirmatively, if not entirely accurately. He did live with us in this barn for three summers -- the last summer stretching till the end of October.

The first summer was 1973. Our son was not quite one, not quite walking. We had just bought our farm and were camping out in the upper part of the barn, getting to know the place and our neighbors. The following summer my husband and a friend were building our house -- getting it to the 'dried in' stage before we had to return to our teaching jobs in Florida. And the third summer, we were back with all our belongings and various helpful friends and family, making the big push to finish the house before cold weather.


Unfortunately, it began to get cold toward the end of October and when we awoke one morniong to find snow on our sleeping bags, we moved into the unfinished house where we at least had a wood stove. What bliss!

It was a wonderful experience though, living like in the barn -- cooking on a Coleman stove, bathing in the branch or in a washtub, the big entertainment at night watching the lightning bugs. When we moved to the house we actually said that we should move back to the barn every summer -- but of course we didn't.

I made use of the experience in Old Wounds -- the barn that Elizabeth's family is living in is based on our barn and that dark rectangle there on the front is a shutter which, when pushed up is the window Rosie sat at to watch Miss Birdie and Cletus come up the road.

And my older son has an excuse for all time for any less than polite behavior he may commit.

Pink Plemmons' s Place

"Luck was next, another minuscule community, and Elizabeth smiled at the sign on a defunct grocery and feed store. Mr. Pink J. Plemmons's store might be shuttered but his name still endured, proudly blazoned in faded lettering on a sign that hung askew across the buildings facade. Till some antiques picker gets hold of it and sells it to a transplant to hang on their living room wall because it's 'quaint.'"

Well, I'm happy to see that the sign's still there and has been straightened up. I saw it four years ago when I was working on Old Wounds and was on my way over to Cherokee to do what passes for research.  

Luck's in an out of the way part of the county and I was surprised to get the following email a few days ago:

My wife and I have enjoyed your Elizabeth Goodweather books, all of which we've bought at the outdoor store in Hot Springs, NC.  I had gotten a great photo of the Pink Plemmons grocery in Luck, NC, and was blown away when I found it in one of your novels.  

Jim McBrayer was kind enough to let me use the picture of the store that he took back in June.


When Old Wounds first came out, I had a lovely email from a lady (was it Debbie?) who told me how as a child she had worked in her family's fields nearby and after work would be rewarded by money to go down to Pink Plemmons's store to buy a treat.  She, too, was tickled to see the mention of a familiar place.


But I still wonder where Pink got his name? Was it a nickname? (I picture him with light red hair and a sun-reddened face.) Or a family name, short for Pinkney... or Pinkham ... or ...

Not Her Cup of Tea...

"I just finished reading your book (Signs in the Blood) which I won at the ______ library when you were there and really enjoyed it until I read the following sentence..........(Deleted to avoid spoiler).....that was totally disgusting and ruined the whole book for me.............it was so appalling that I felt like I should let you know..................."

There's a useful phrase people use in talking about books -- 'not my cup of tea.'  No book pleases everyone but I kinda hate it that the lady who wrote this email to me found a sentence 'disgusting. ' Makes me feel a little sleazy.

On the other hand, I do ask people to let me know what they think and I shouldn't be surprised if the thoughts are sometimes negative.  Different folks enjoy different types of fiction, even different types of mysteries. And different folks have different tolerance levels -- we've already talked here about the danger of killing a (fictional) cat or dog. 

I replied to this lady, explaining briefly my reason for the disgusting sentence. Probably we both feel better now.

And on the same day I received the following:

"I was lucky enough to win a copy of Signs In The Blood at the Virtual Bcon last year.  I liked it enough to get the rest of the series and have spent this week reading them.  They are all very good, Old Wounds is my absolute favorite as it has a lot of me in it.  ...(Sentence deleted to avoid a spoiler.)

I have stayed up till nearly midnight this whole week reading and now hopefully will be back to my normal sleeping schedule.

Thank you so much for the reading pleasure you have given me!"

So now I don't feel so sleazy anymore.  It all balances out.