Judy's House

                                                                        

I was delighted to have this picture pop up on Facebook--an old photo of Judy Shelton's cabin. I'd never seen a picture but it was much as I'd imagined--a two story log cabin. (I suspect that the sagging bit on the right was a later addition.)

 That cabin was the setting for several important scenes in my historical novel And the Crows Took Their Eyes. 

Nothing but the chimney remains of the place where the thirteen victims of the Shelton Laurel Massacre were held the night before their execution. Nothing but memories and ghosts.

Podcast-Part 2

The second part of the podcast about the Massacre is up now  HERE.  I was pleased that they chose to end with my reading from the prologue of Crows.

If you missed the first part, find it OVER HERE.

                   

Talking About a Revolution . . .

I've been asked to speak to a local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution about And the Crows Took Their Eyes and have been struck by how appropriate the book is to their interests.  

In my research I found that many Confederates thought of their cause as a second American Revolution--fighting against what they saw as tyranny. Indeed, one newspaper article told of Southern women cutting up for bandages the linen sheets, spun and woven  by their great-grandmothers--"the women of one revolution, thus, as it were, coming up to the help of the women of another, even as the memory of the patriotism of the women of the past causes to glow with increased ardor that of the women of the present."

The people of Shelton Laurel saw it differently. Judy Shelton says, "They say Grandpap Roderick was a big, red-headed man, six foot tall and two hundred pounds. He had fought in the battle of King's Mountain to set the States free of the king of England, and it was with a land grant on account of what he'd done in that war that he took up this place right here. . .

". . . This is holy ground to most of us. Over the years the old folks has handed down a love of the land that almost passes the love of God, though I'd not say that to anyone else.  Ever one of my young uns, one of the first things I do, soon as I'm outten childbed, is to put their little bare feet to the dirt, same as my mama done me, and tell them that the land is their birthright, to have and to hold."

At one point in the book, Judy encounters the wife of the colonel commanding the 64th Regiment NC State Troops (Confederate) and she says this: "They call us traitors and home-grown Yankees . . .but I reckon my grandpap, him that fought agin the king, would say it was you and your husband the colonel and all these other Rebs what is the traitors. And all so you rich folk can hold on to your slaves."

One man's revolution is another's insurrection. And the winners write the histories.

 

Podcast!

                                      

  A few weeks ago, Joe Kendrick of WNCW and Southern Songs and Stories came out and interviewed me and two others for a podcast about the Shelton Laurel Massacre. The other two, Sheila Kay Adams and Taylor Barnhill, did a radio show some years back that had a segment on the Massacre, and bits of that old show are included in the podcast. Sheila Kay is a noted ballad singer, banjo picker, novelist, story teller, and her memories and family stories go way  back.

As Joe directed our conversation, he was attempting to show the relevance and the uncomfortable parallels between the political climate during the Civil War and today's uneasy and undeclared uncivil war. It's a subject that was on my mind during the writing of Crows.

Go  HERE for more information and for a link to Part 1 of the podcast. Along with some interesting Madison County history, there's some very nice old time music. If you enjoyed it, a LIKE  and  a comment would be appreciated. 

                                

Fan Fiction!!!

 This may be the first time I've had someone else's prose on my blog but I was so moved by Doug's piece inspired by CROWS that I asked his permission to post it here. He posted it already on Facebook and I shared it so this will be a repeat for some of you. But I wanted folks who don't do FB to see it too. 

DOUG PLEMONS Review for "And The Crows Took Their Eyes"

Posted on Facebook 10/12/2020

Davy must of heard a noise, for sudden he set bolt upright and found himself waking from a fever dream. Upon awakening it appeared that he was lying in the woods next to a small trail, mostly in a rocky ditch off to the side of the trail. He tried to wrap his thoughts around what might have brought about this strange circumstance. Why was he lying in the cold damp woods on a cold January day? He rolled his eyes to get the sleepy mist out and found that he could not. Wasn't sure why just yet. He looked around him to see a dozen of his friends and neighbors, a-lying there just as asleep as he had been.

 The light---and his thoughts---seemed dim and unfocused, like as through the thickest mountain fog. Like the steam you see when you blow out your breath of a sharpish cold morning, except everything he was looking at seemed soft around the edges. Was he still asleep and dreaming? The whole world looked steamy and hot, though he knew it was bitter January.

He got up and brushed the snow off himself and his ragged tattered clothes, such as they were. His pants were torn and his shirt front was all bloody with a great red stain and he couldn't move his arms, but none of that seemed to matter. Not his state of dress, nor his lifeless pile of friends and family, nor the cold. He rose to his feet, then without making any further inquiry of his comrades, began stiffly walking down the short side trail towards someplace and something he knew. It didn't matter that he had no use of his bullet-shattered arms, or that there was a hole he could have buried his fist in on his right leg, or that part of his face was missing. Didn't matter at all. He staggered on out of the side trail, got to the junction of the horse trail that led home, and stopped dead in his tracks.

 It seemed to him as he left the cover of the woods that something crucial was different in the world around him, something foundational to his world and his understanding of things. It was devil-moon quiet, for one thing. Too quiet. Usually of a morning a body would hear people on horses or a dog barking off somewhere.... nothing making a sound.

And now something new to consider.... down where this side trail ran into the main holler road, there sat a house setting at the corner where he didn't remember there ever being one. That was a stand of hardwoods he shot a boar hog at one time. But it didn't seem to matter, this difference between what was and what it seemed to be.

And the house....it looked strange and unworldly, made from materials he'd never seen before. Not at all like the old dogtrot cabin he'd grown up in and had began to plow the ground for himself with his papa gone to the war. At least this strange house had a big wraparound porch, looked like.

 And there was a rocking chair.

 And there was a young woman with dark hair and steady eyes, busy with her nose in a book. As he approached the house, he caught sight of a flagpole and a flag waving in the breeze. And how many stars were on that flag? Didn't matter. He had to find out why everything was so different. Maybe this woman would know. Something was drawing him to her, and she looked up, looking straight at him and showing no fear. Or, for that matter, that seeing him was unusual.

 "Hello, the house," he cried out.

 "Well, howdy yourself. Who be you?"

 "Well I'm Davy...uh, Davy Shelton and-----"

 She looked away from the book with a benevolent, knowing half smile, as if she did know something he didn't, and he had to think it, who did she think she was, the Mona Lisa herself? but thought it best to keep quiet and learn what he could. He needed to know something, and there was something unusual about her on that porch, in the same way that his own situation resonated within him. She spoke calm-like, "I think we've been appointed to meet, Davy. I believe you are the very one I am reading about in this very book."

 "How so, ma'am?" He was curious. "I don't have a clue even what I'm at...er what day it is."

 "Well, Davy, I think the reason for our appointment is for me to help send you to someplace you know. I think maybe you have got stuck between." She said this last with a calm air, like she was talking about hanging out the clothes.

 "Between what?"

 " Between your life and your passing."

 "Wha----you mean I feel like this because I might be dead and cain’t quite get there. Why?" He didn't feel dead but had to admit he had nothing to compare it with. He wondered about the others all piled up back yonder and said, "If that be true then I ain't the only one."

 "That's what I'm reading here. You might like this book a lot, Davy. It talks about your folks and your life here in the Laurels, and about them folks over in Marshall and why they're acting up the fool. There's a lot of why's and what-fers as to why everybody has done gone out of their mind over the state of the Union. You do know you are only standing here and us meeting like this because the nation is in a war with itself, for its soul and honor, don't you?"

 He had forgotten about the war but somehow seemed to be separate from its pain and anguish here in this strange fog talking to this woman who said she was reading his life in some book.

 She went on. "Honey, this book writer has got herself some common sense about the war and why your neighbors here in the county have run you out of your house and laid you dead in a ditch. There's some things I ain't gonna pass on, no need to hear it all , but do hear this. Enough to get you on your way. This war has got ever'body ground down to the bare stones, but you do need to know that Marthy is just mad with wanting to track down your killer and that her plan will succeed, but not exactly how she figgered. And you need to know that those who died with you shall all be buried together. And they will always be remembered even in times way down yet from ourn. "

 'Well, if I’m dead and I'm able to talk to you, as if something bad happen to you, too?"

 She looked at him for a long second then laughed and changed the subject saying, "Don’t none of that matter, Davy. I'm here to point you to where you’re headed. First thing you do is go back up there where you were and y'all will go together. So, run along and go be dead so's you can be buried with the other twelve. Go on now.... they’re waiting for you and they cain’t go till you get there."

 "You sure?"

 "It's the way of it."

 Hmm. Seemed like that most settled everything he could think of just now so he said his goodbyes to the young lady on the porch of that house he'd never seen before. A place where he knew to be tangled woods run wild with all manner of God's critters but.... everything seemed to be resolved. That old ground was indeed calling him and so went back towards a place where time had cracked open, and his last thoughts before setting back down in the snow with the others were of the woman.

 "I'm from over Kona way. My name is Frankie."

If that last sentence puzzles you, go HERE.

Col. Keith

If you've read And the Crows Took Their Eyes, you'll note some discrepancies. As I said in the afterword, even the primary sources don't always agree. Makes one wonder how history will record 2020. 

 From the November 8 Mountain Xpress:

Asheville Archives: Initial reactions to the Shelton Laurel Massacre, 1863

Posted on November 8, 2020 by Thomas Calder

CALLING THE SHOTS: Lt. Col. James Keith, an impressively bearded native of Mars Hill, was in charge of the North Carolina 64th Regiment, which carried out the Shelton Laurel Massacre. Photo via Mrs. James F. Arnold, El Paso, Texas; courtesy of Southern Appalachian Archives, Mars Hill University

On Jan. 15, 1863, amid the Civil War, The Asheville News reported that enemies, “not in the shape of Northern soldiers, but … of disloyal men from Tennessee and our own State,” ransacked the nearby town of Marshall. Confederate soldiers, the article noted, were headed to Madison County to “restore order and security.”

Additional information, the paper continued, “will be fully known in due time.”

Subsequent reports explained how the region’s Union sympathizers, including those living in Shelton Laurel, were denied salt from Confederate commissioners. With food in short supply and salt critical for preserving meat, individuals took matters into their own hands.

Two months later, on March 17, 1863, The North Carolina Standard, based in Raleigh, shared an account from an unnamed source residing in the state’s western region. According to the individual, Confederate soldiers “shot down in cold blood” a number of Shelton Laurel residents accused of the January raid.

The source asserted that the officer who ordered the executions (identified in subsequent papers as Lt. Col. James Keith) “knew that the only object of the raid made by these [Shelton Laurel] men was to seize the salt, which they believed was wrongfully withheld from them.”

“I am no apologist for these miserable ignorant thieves,” the source continued. “But I hold that the Constitution and the laws of this country guarantee to every man and woman in the Confederacy, no matter what their crime, a fair and impartial trial.”

The North Carolina Standard agreed. The men accused of the raid “committed a great wrong against society,” the paper wrote. Along with the stolen salt, the article noted damage to private property and at least two wounded residents.

The men deserved lawful punishment, The North Carolina Standard continued. But instead, the paper observed: “The musket did the work. The red hand of vengeance was triumphant, and the voice of mercy, which is heard everywhere except in hell, was raised in vain.”

Because these men were denied a trial, the paper deemed the 64th Regiment’s actions “both cowardly and wicked.”

By the summer of 1863 several newspapers — including the Baltimore Sun and The New York Times — picked up on the story and ran a syndicated article describing the January killing of the 13 men and boys, which became known as the Shelton Laurel Massacre.

The piece features gruesome and dramatic details about the executions, including alleged pleas made by one of the youngest victims, 12-year-old William Shelton.

“Poor little Billy was wounded in both arms. He ran to an officer, clasped him around his legs, and besought him to spare his life. ‘You have killed my father and my three brothers; you have shot me in both arms — I forgive you for all this; I can get well. Let me go home to my mother and sisters.’ What a heart of adamant the man must have who could disregard such an appeal! The little boy was dragged back to the place of execution; again the terrible word ‘fire!’ was given, and he fell dead, eight balls having entered his body.”

The syndicated report went on to note that a number of Shelton Laurel women were also brutally “whipped and hung by the neck till they were almost dead.” Among the assault victims was an 85-year-old resident. “And the men who did this were called soldiers!” the article decried.

No members of the North Carolina 64th Regiment were ever tried for the deaths of the 13 people killed in Madison County on Jan. 19, 1863.

Today, the Shelton Laurel Massacre continues to inspire debate, research and publications, including the most recent work of historical fiction And the Crows Took Their Eyes by local author Vicki Lane. (See “Author Vicki Lane Takes Multiple Views of the Shelton Laurel Massacre,” Oct. 23, Xpress)

Editor’s note: Peculiarities of spelling and punctuation are preserved from the original document.

Polly Allen's House-Update

The Allen House in Marshall, where Polly and Lawrence lived and where a good deal of CROWS takes place, has been spiffed up and painted a beautiful blue.  What follows is an up date of a post from 2014. For those of you reading the novel now, seeing the interior may help set the scene.

Mary Allen (who was known as Polly) is one of the five voices in my novel . . . 

Her house  was a familiar sight to me for over forty years . . . long before I thought of writing anything at all.

It's a private residence and the owner was kind enough to let me take pictures of the parlor .

Some of the original wallpaper remains . . .

Front door and stairs . . .

 Dining room

 A pie safe ...

As I wrote the scenes with Polly, it was easy to imagine her moving through this house, to see the sheriff running up the stairs, to hear the glass breaking in the sidelights . . .

I couldn't be sure of what has changed since Polly's time, but I did the best I could with research and let my imagination fill in the gaps

Disappointed! But Here's a Reading on YouTube

                 

Well.

After posting about how well the Zooming was going, I had to bow out of the virtual reading at Malaprop's yesterday because my internet connection went all weird. And I saw some of my blog/Facebook friends were there. Drat and I'm so sorry.

So I recorded my reading on YouTube and HERE it is. Not the best but I'll try again soon.

And many thanks to those friends who showed up!

Beeing Here--and a Question for the Hive Mind

Down in the garden yesterday, I was delighted to see numerous wild honeybees working the white clover.

A hopeful sign for this small portion of the planet,

And now my question: I'm working with Malaprop's, Asheville's iconic bookseller, to plan a virtual October launch  for AND THE CROWS TOOK THEIR EYES. The event will be streamed live at 6 pm EST -- either on Friday the 16th or on Tuesday the 20th. So, what I want to know is . . .

If this is something you might be interested in watching, which day (Friday or Tuesday) is better for you?

I already asked this on Facebook yesterday but if you didn't answer there, you can answer in the comments.  Just trying to get a feel for what would work best.

I've had six wonderful, well-attended (in person) book launches at Malaprop's and had hoped to repeat but, alas, looking ahead, I don't see that happening in mid-October.

On the bright side is that this event would be accessible to my non-local friends -- and that's like the silver lining.

Anyway, I'll take note of the responses and Malaprop's and I will choose a date soon. I've also agreed to sign books for Malaprop's in advance, including personalized inscriptions for those who pre-order and request such.

Okay, I'm beginning to feel a tad excited despite the virus. It's been such a long journey. . .

New Website in the Making

It was time and past time for a new/updated website. I finally bit the proverbial bullet and have hired a fella to bring the site up to speed. With a new book coming out in October (finally!) and with little prospect of actual in person events to promote And the Crows Took Their Eyes, a good website seems crucial.

So I've spent most of yesterday (it was rainy) creating new content for the new pages and searching my files for pictures to adorn them. 

HOME was simple -- book cover, brief synopsis, advance praise.

Next up was ABOUT VICKI and even typing those two words kinda gives me the willies. (What are the willies, anyway? Nevermind, I probably don't want to know.) The thing is, I was raised with the idea that one doesn't talk too much about oneself or heaven forbid, seem to brag on oneself. But ABOUT THE AUTHOR is a part of every writer's website so I settled in to try to give a brief overview of my life and alleged writing career.

More pages to come-HISTORY of the Massacre is next on my to do list. And eventually maybe DISCUSSION GUIDE. What else do I need?

Ay, law. 

That reminds me. I also finished up a piece for Mystery Readers Journal. But I'll let Miss Birdie tell you about that tomorrow.

Editing

...which is pretty much all I've been doing for the past two weeks -- along with keeping Josie two and three days a week. (I'm using Josie pics for this post because pics of me editing would be pretty dull.) I've been editing 60 pages a week for my class along with doing a read through of my 334 page novel  (actually, I did it twice) in response to my editor's line edits--I needed to accept or reject them. 

This was my last chance to to tweak sentences and improve word choice. After this, if I want to make changes (other than typos or compositor errors, it will cost me.)

This is standard industry practice and makes sense. Because, alas, it's always the case that another read-through will reveal things the writer wishes she'd done differently.

This time, in spite of the fact that I've probably read through the novel twenty times, tweaking merrily as I went, I still found things to improve-- places to eliminate unnecessary words, to fix repetitions, to double check against some possible anachronisms. 

I think that since I've been editing class work for several months now, my editorial eye was sharper and more attuned to really picky details. As I always tell the folks in my critique classes, editing other people's work will make you a better editor of your own stuff.

And for a bonus, I finally came up with a closing couple of sentences I like. On every previous read, I'd questioned my choice of words there. What happens at the end hasn't changed but I think the words are better.

And I'm really pleased with the novel as a whole. I love most of the characters and those that I don't, I at least have some sympathy for. They have become incredibly real to me.

I felt like celebrating when I hit SEND late Thursday night and returned the manuscript to the editor. Now a proofreader will go through it and eventually, so will I again.

 Meanwhile, I've got forty more pages to edit for class next Thursday, after which I can lay down the electronic red pencil and think about things like Christmas gifts and Thanksgiving food. And all those cobwebs lurking in corners and under chairs. Now that Halloween's past, I can't claim them as decorations any more.

And the New Title Is . . .

And the Crows Took Their Eyes

Raw and powerful, like the book, says the editor.

Well, the book is no cozy--though it has lots of warm, human moments--but the massacre is the central event that informs the story and the lives of those who tell the it.

I'm tweaking my blurb for the back of the book. You are welcome to tell me what you think. It's tricky--trying to hit the high points without giving away too much.

~~~

During the Civil War in bitterly divided western North Carolina, Confederate troops execute thirteen men and boys from a rural community opposed to secession. The Shelton Laurel Massacre, as it came to be known, is a microcosm of the deep horrors of civil war – neighbor against neighbor and violence at one’s own front door. 

Told by those who lived it– the colonel’s wife, helpless witness to the outrage that precipitates the massacre; the jealous second-in-command whose ambition and rage fuel the fatal order; the canny mountain woman who endures torture to protect her people and her land; the mute girl, whose gift of second-sight and spell-working brings an unexpected revenge; and the young conscript, haunted by his part in the massacre and seeking redemption—these voices offer an intimate glimpse into the lives of five people tangled in history’s web, caught up together in love and hate. All five will bear the mark of the massacre long after the event as they struggle to come to terms with the bleak consequences of civil war.
Based on an actual event and historical characters, And the Crows Took Their Eyes is a richly imagined portrait of a dark and bitter time—illuminated by sudden gleams of warm humanity and undying strength.

The Game's Afoot!

My editor has sent me a production schedule for the Civil War book and I've been in touch with her and with the Editor-in-Chief about the title. As some of you may remember, my original idea was to call it THIS WAS THE WAY OF IT.  That was, at least, my working title. Eventually it got trimmed to THE WAY OF IT, which is what it was when I signed with Regal House. 

The editor didn't quite like it and it became WITHIN MY MEMORY YET.  Then I noticed that somewhere on line, Regal House had referred to my forthcoming book as MEMORY LINGERS--which I don't like at all. I said so and suggested, if they preferred a shorter title, IN MEMORY YET.

Nope, the head editor didn't like that, feeling that something more powerful was needed, a kind of visceral punch to reflect the horrors of the story.

Now I'd been giving some thought to the cover--part of the production schedule invites me to send them pictures of book covers I admire so that the cover designers have some idea of my aesthetic idiom. And in thinking about covers, I imagined a cover with crows against a winter background--a reference to what I think is one of the most viscerally powerful scenes of the book.

And I thought of a title. A strong, in-your-face title. Maybe too strong, I thought but I suggested it and they like it. They really liked it.

At the moment, I think it's The One. But, allowing for second thoughts, etc., I'm not going to say what it is. Not till I have a strong commitment and a go ahead from the editors.

But there are crows.

Within My Memory Yet . . .

Nothing's definite but at this moment my editor and I both like Within My Memory Yet as a title for the Shelton Laurel Massacre book. It's a line from "Lorena" --- a Civil War era song that was popular on both sides. I reference it several times in the book, and, beyond that, the line captures the long-lasting scars, grudges, pain, suspicion, and hatred engendered by the war and, more specifically by the massacre that is the key issue of my novel. 

 

You can listen to the song "Lorena" HERE, accompanied  by some haunting images from the Civil War. If you look closely, you will see a map that includes Marshall, NC and Greenville and Maryville, TN, the sites of much of the action in my book.

The photos on this page are some that I will offer as possible covers -- just imagine the words Within My Memory Yet and by Vicki Lane in some elegant font superimposed on the images.