One Good Turn

Sometimes readers are hard to please, and never more so than now, when I'm writing for three different publishers. "We need a sequel to My Loving Vigil Keeping," some will insist. Others want more Julia and Mr. Otto. The only sequels I can guarantee right now are the ones to follow The Double Cross, my historical mystery set in colonial New Mexico, which comes out in June. I'm contracted to write at least three more of those. To put a finer point on this, they are more part of a series than sequels.

I'm not one to write many sequels. Enduring Light is only the second, in a writing career that spans a bunch of years since the first novel in 1984. The first sequel was One Good Turn, now available, as of this week, in ebook from Signet's electronic arm (ouch, that sounds strange). The need for "Good Turn" was made amply plain to me by readers disgruntled after they finished Libby's London Merchant, also in ebook now.

"Libby" was a triangle, with two men vying for the attentions of the heroine, Libby Ames, a sweet thing living on her uncle's estate in Kent. A number of readers thought I had her marry the wrong man. I am still convinced that was not the case; besides, who should know better than the author? The Duke was just not good enough at the time: a drunken care-for-nobody, neglectful of the men who served under him at Waterloo, and not willing to make Libby his wife. (He had other ideas.)

But everyone loves a rake, I suppose. Or mostly everyone; I don't, really. There were enough redeeming qualities about Benedict Nesbitt, Duke of Knaresborough, to make him a charming character. I succumbed, but not until ten years after "Libby" was published. The result was One Good Turn.

I'm glad I waited ten years to write that sequel, because I was a better writer in 2001, when I wrote One Good Turn. By then, I  also knew more about the Peninsular Wars in Spain and Portugal, and the Royal Navy fighting on the high seas and in the English Channel. The third siege of strategic Badajoz was a nasty business, even in a nasty war. If Nez is really going to reform, he has to go through his own trial by fire. I knew the heart of this story of redemption had to have its center in that third siege.

I downloaded One Good Turn and glanced at it a few mornings back. I don't think I've read it since I wrote it in 2001, so it was almost a rediscovery. I wouldn't change a word of it. War is as terrible today as it was in 1812. What happened to the women and young girls of Badajoz shouldn't have happened to dogs. It was the same terrible suffering that went on after Russian troops entered Berlin in 1945, or what happened over and over in Kosovo or Rwanda.

I suppose new readers of mine who prefer unicorns and roses will be horrified by One Good Turn. If you're squeamish, don't read it. But if you like realism and understand the psychology of suffering, you'll like the novel. Does everything turn out all right? Of course; it's a Regency romance. I must agree with Thomas Hardy, though: there's nothing wrong with a happy ending, as long as people learn something along the way. You know, kind of like life.

I owe a real debt to Ruth Cohen, my former agent. When I quit writing for Signet and started writing for another publisher, she told me to get my copywrites back for those 16 Signet Regency romances. It took a while - publishing houses are not well-organized - but I did. As it turned out, it was just before the ebook revolution began. What this means is I have control and am able to parcel out those Signet copywrites to other publishers of my choosing. Cedar Fort has five of those copywrites - Miss Grimsley's Oxford Career, Reforming Lord Ragsdale, Marian's Christmas Wish, Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand, and Summer Campaign, plus two short story collections.

I returned some to Signet, and I've been impressed with the way they are reproducing those electronically. Signet has done Libby's London Merchant and One Good Turn. Next will be The Wedding Journey, and The Lady's Companion. Camel Press in Seattle has Miss Whittier Makes a List, and two others. The rest I'm hanging onto, for the time being. I'm not sure how lucrative all this will be, but the books have earned out their advances, so it should be satisfactory for all of us.

That suits me. I'm happy for new readers to discover the gallant Liria Valencia and her small son Juan, and what the war did - and didn't do - to them. I just wish war didn't keep hurting the innocent. One Good Turn is a story that makes me thankful - and this is the season - for the comfortable life I live, and grateful that people are brave and resourceful still.

One Good Turn has done something else for me. I owe Harlequin two more novels. When I finish the book I am currently writing for Cedar Fort, I've pretty well decided to return to the Napoleonic Wars, thanks to One Good Turn. It's an era I'm comfortable with. I'm trying to decide between bomb kedge duty with the Royal Navy (really, really dangerous) or a return to Spain, or maybe even - if I'm brave enough - Waterloo. Now there was a battle.

These are nice problems for this writer to have. I get to pick and choose my way through history, meet new folks/characters along the way, and learn more, because I learn something from every novel I write. I hope readers do, too.

Ideas Make My World Go 'Round

I think the question I get asked the most often is where do my ideas come from? I was asked that most recently by Catherine Treadgold, the lady who runs Camel Press in Seattle, Washington. Camel Press reprinted my first novel, Daughter of Fortune, and made it available as an ebook, too. On January 1, Camel Press will reprint Miss Whittier Makes a List as a paperback and an ebook. Gradually, all my moldy oldies from Signet are coming out again, plus a new series.

Catherine recently needed to write a press release for "Miss Whittier," and asked me to provide some info about where the idea came from to write about a Quaker lass from Nantucket who ends up rescued by a Royal Navy frigate and forced to sail to Europe (she'd been on her way to South Carolina).

Here's how a writer thinks, or at least, this one: I'd been going through a stack of my children's old picture books and came across Brinton Turkle's engaging book, Thy Friend, Obadiah, about a little Quaker boy on Nantucket who is forever getting in trouble. It was a favorite of my son, Sam, and I loved it, too. The stories are set in the early days of the new American republic, that early 19th century era I like so well. I owed a Regency to Signet, and that was the era. Why not write about an American, for a change? I know the breed pretty well.

I looked through the book, ragged now, and asked myself: What would be the complete, absolute polar opposite of a proper young Quaker lass from Nantucket? It would be the salty commander of a Royal Navy frigate, on the prowl for French, and trying to keep the neutral Americans from doing anything that might aid said French. Looking at that children's book led directly to Miss Whittier Makes a List.

I never know where the next Big Idea will come from, so I take all my casual reading, or any activities quite seriously (or try to). Years ago, I came across a juez de campo (brand inspector) as a footnote in an obscure text of borderlands history in the 18th century. Just a footnote. Last fall at this time we were visiting the aforementioned Sam in northern New Mexico. I'd been there before to visit, but this time I seemed to be thinking about that brand inspector. Bingo. That was the beginning of The Spanish Brand Series for Camel Press. The first book will be out June 1, and it's called The Double Cross. Gee, a whole series from a footnote and a visit to my younger son (which makes any and all future trips to New Mexico tax deductible, because I'm doing research as I visit).

Right now, I'm writing Safe Passage, a novel about the Mormon exodus from Mexico in 1912, when the 1910-20 ejido revolution made living in the Mormon Colonies in Mexico too dangerous. The story of that exodus is in its centennial year now. I decided that my hero is going to be going back to Mexico, and not out. He has to find his estranged wife, and try to figure out how to get his cattle out, so they can start over somewhere else, if she's willing. Or so he thinks. It's not going to be easy, and thereby hangs the tale, of course. Novels, as life, are often a study in how much can go wrong.

It might be easier for me to think up ideas because historical fiction is my game. I depend on history to give me my framework, and Cleo the History Muse is a friend o' mine. This brand inspector happens to be living in 1780 on the border of Comancheria, a hyper-dangerous part of New Mexico/Texas, with the ferocious Comanches eager to relieve Spaniards of both hair and cattle. And Spain's power in the region is diminishing. All this is true, so I can waltz in and add some characters.

It's the same with Miss Whittier on the ocean, and Ammon Hancock trying to salvage something - anything - from revolutionary Mexico. The ideas are there because history is there. I respect it, I don't play fast and loose with it, and I enjoy the intricacy of fitting my fictional folks into realistic settings.

Nuff said for now. I'll check in again soon.

All roads lead here and there

You hoo? Anyone there? I doubt I have any readers left, since it's been so long since my last blog. Before I left on my trip three weeks ago, I was finishing a historical mystery set in n/e New Mexico in 1780 called The Double Cross. So I was, uh, too busy writing to write. My editor at Camel Press in Seattle likes the book, so with a few changes, we're good to go. Not sure yet when that one will be available as paperback and ebook. It was glorious fun to write. I like to think of Marco and Paloma Mondragon as the Nick and Nora Charles of the 18th century.

But I'm still writing Regencies. Next one is due to Harlequin in June 2013, which I will probably start in February. (I'm thinking about another sea story, so you've been warned.) The project on deck now is a novel for Cedar Fort (yes, there are pesky Mormons in it), set in 1916 Mexico, just after Pancho Villa and his guerillas attack Columbus, N.M. John Pershing was commanded to organize a punitive expedition into Mexico to harry and hopefully capture Villa. He didn't succeed, but this little quasi-war involved trains, and cavalry troops, and airplanes and automobiles. It also involved scouts hired from the Mormon Colonies in Mexico, because they knew the territory, were tough men, and spoke Spanish like natives. Glendon Swarthout wrote a book called The Tin Lizzie Troop about the punitive expedition. I'm currently reading The General and the Jaguar, by the excellent Eileen Welsome, about the same event. Good stuff. I love the research part of writing.

My trip. On Sept. 24, I took off for southeast Wyoming (with a shoutout to Julia and Mr. Otto, of course), then western Nebraska (a favorite cousin), northwestern Nebraska (a favorite National Park Service boss), back to Torrington, Wyoming to discuss a life history a friend wants me to write. It was this kind of do-it-on-a-whim trip: on the way, I finally stopped in Rawlins, Wyoming, at the old prison, active from about 1901 to 1981. (Not to be confused with the state-run Territorial Prison in Laramie.) Anyway, I'd been driving by the pen in Rawlins for years, so I decided to stop.

I recommend it. The tour was well-run, with a super guide who knew all the ins and outs of that tough place. Cell Block A was enough to scare anyone straight - three levels of cells with little or no heat (remember, this is Wyoming), and a bucket in the cell, which could be emptied in the morning into a trough running the length of the cell block. Our guide pointed out that even after 80 years (the old sanitary system was done away with years before the prison closed), there is still an aroma. Hard to imagine how pungent that was during a summer in say, 1905. Great tour. It also included maximum security, a look at the old hanging method, and then the new, improved gas chamber. One of the visitors on the tour wanted to close the door on himself and have his wife take his picture through the peephole. She vetoed that strenuously. In 1981, the new state pen was located south of Rawlins, so the old one remains a cautionary tale.

Then it was "ahhhh" time at the Wyoming State Bath House in Thermopolis. What a bargain. The therapeutic pools (one indoor, one outdoor) are free, provided you have your own suit and towel. If you have to rent theirs, it's only a buck, so it's still a bargain. I don't think another state has a bath house, the result of an agreement and a sale between the state and the Shoshoni-Arapaho Nations. I went in twice, and smelled like sulphur for days. I doubt the fragrance will even leave my swimsuit, but I don't care. Sitting in 104 degree water is worth it. I'd been planning that return visit for two years, and I'm already looking forward to the next time, as soon as I can concoct a flimsy excuse.

I went through Yellowstone to visit another Park Service colleague who is a back country ranger based at Old Faithful District. It was a better year; no tourists were eaten by bears (last year's score was Tourists: 0, Bears, 2). I got to watch Old Faithful erupt, and it was impressive.

Next stop was Choteau, Montana, a lovely little town with the stunning Rocky Mountain front range out the back door. I met Helen "Gus" Miller, A.B. Guthrie's daughter, for dinner, and she told me stories about her father, who was one of my favorite writers. Gus was a Genuine Article herself, with great stories, a penetrating stare, and an amazing laugh. She knew everyone in the restaurant. I was a total fangirl.

I eventually arrived on the Canadian border, where my son lives. I spent most of the time reading about Pancho Villa, then did two booksignings - one in Cardston and the other in Calgary. The high plains of Alberta made me super-homesick for North Dakota, but oh well. Good booksignings- Canadians like to read.

Then I was invited to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving with some of my son's friends. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, so it was fun to start celebrating early.

I came home via I-15. Supreme irony: I had been traveling some seriously questionable back roads for two-plus weeks with nary a windshield ding. About 10 a.m. near Sandy on the Interstate, someone's car kicked up a stone and killed my windshield. I watched in horrified amazement as the crack went from tiny to "you're gonna have to replace me" in just nano seconds.

Still, it was a great trip. Now it's back to writing, once I finish The Tin Lizzie Troop. I have a booksigning this Saturday, October 20, from noon to 3 at the Seagull Bookstore in Spanish Fork. I can hardly wait. At an Orem booksigning on the 13th, a kind lady told me that the best thing for my thinning hair is to start taking prenatal vitamins. Maybe someone will give me a cure for flat feet next week. H'mm, she didn't even buy a book.

I don't make this up, guys.

The Big Pay Off

The big reward for writing My Loving Vigil Keeping came yesterday on Goodreads. Goodreader Lana from Virginia wrote a review of the book, and included some priceless information for me. She's a descendant of Samuel Padfield, who died in the mine disaster. Sam was married to Cassie Evans, the daughter of William Evans, who was brother to Richard Evans, an important character in my book. Lana said her 96-year-old great-grandmother, daughter of Cassie and Sam, was born in Winter Quarters coal camp, and read the book and loved it.

I started up a little comment conversation with Lana, and she wrote more about her great grandma's memories of the charming Welsh accent, and the Welsh wives who were such immaculate housekeepers and good cooks. This is such fun for me, because writing about real characters is generating more information. It's a delicious slice of social history that just makes me practically purr.  If anyone is interested, go to Goodreads and look up Lana's conversation.

In the works, hopefully this month, is a visit of several readers to the Scofield Cemetery  in Scofield, Utah. We're working on arranging this.

More fun - I just finished The Double Cross, first volume in my Spanish Brand series. That's why the dry spell between blogs. I just run out of time for blog stuff when (as Sherlock would say) "The game's afoot." I need to be writing. I have to polish and shorten it, then shoot it off to the Seattle publisher. I already have an idea for book two (a smallpox epidemic in 1780), but that won't happen until I start and finish my next book to Cedar Fort, about the Mormon Exodus from the Mexican Colonies in 1912, and a regency I owe to Harlequin after that. I've been a bit too busy this year. Next year, I'll only write three books, hopefully.

Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand is now available as a reprint through Cedar Fort now, and hopefully on ebook soon. It's a favorite of many, and my first Rita Award from Romance Writers of America. Cedar Fort is now preparing my newspaper columns in a volume called Stop Me If You've Read This One Before: Prairie Lite.

Also, my lovely kitchen is done now - see new photos. And not a minute too soon, because it's canning time. So far, I'm putting up green beans and chili sauce. Oh, that chili sauce. It smells divine. We've steamed/juiced some grapes for grape juice, and I'm planning on bottling peaches, too.

And the title battle continues with Harlequin. My book, The Hesitant Heart, set at Fort Laramie in 1876, will be out in May, 2013. (It is one of my favorite books.) My London editor says she will be sending title suggestions. In no uncertain terms, I told her to leave that title alone. It comes directly from an officer's wife's memoirs from the Indian Wars and is "romancy" enough. I'll be ignored, of course, but I will tell my editor that if they change that title, my next two Harlequins will be the last I ever write for them. I'm tired of being jerked around by their titles. Nuff's enough.

Dear Carla

I'm certainly not the world's most prolific blogger, mainly because I'm too busy writing to, uh, write.

I received the most wonderful letter a few days ago from Amy in Mapleton. I attended a book club meeting a few months ago in Mapleton, and we all had a lot of fun. Amy sent me this letter, and it made me laugh, so I have to share it.

Dear Carla,
Your latest book has kept me up late and caused me to lose sleep. Your book has made me leave work early. Your book has caused me to neglect every earthly responsibility I currently have. Thank you so much for your book. I have loved it! Please keep doin what you're doin, you do beat all Carla.
Admiringly yours,
Amy B.

I wrote Amy back and told her she gave me a good laugh.

I'm in the home stretch on my historical mystery in New Mexico, then I'll start reading for research for the next book. In the middle of all this, we're doing the dread kitchen remodel, which is turning out not so dreadful, especially since we fell into the clutches of Stilson and Sons, general contractors from Emery County who are absolutely magnificent.

Royce is a cool guy in his mid to late sixties who is super-tall and super-organized. I know you won't believe this, any of you who have gone through any home remodeling, but Royce sets a time line, calls us to let us know who will be out to do what and when they will be there. He's even Ahead Of Schedule. Yes, yes, I know, sounds crazy, but it's true. He's scheduled to be done by the end of next week, and he may be done even sooner. We're already lining up another project with him.

The remodel is nothing extraordinary. It was a small kitchen to begin with, and it'll remain a small kitchen. What is will have is more cabinets, and a better arrangement of appliances. No granite countertops; that would be extreme overkill. It'll just be a great-looking kitchen.

The fridge is in the laundry room and the sink is in the bathroom, and we're eating microwave dinners and giving away a lot of garden produce. No complaints; I like not cooking.

And now back to "The Double Cross."

Boo, the thief

Housekeeping First



First, many thank yous to Marilyn Bown, her husband Gordon, and their lovely daughters and one daughter-in-law, who helped arrange a wonderful book club meeting last week in Salt Lake City. Some 30 bookclubbers (two clubs and part of a quilting book) showed up with their copies of Borrowed Light and Enduring Light. We chatted about the books. I shared some stories about how and why I wrote it, and talked about My Loving Vigil Keeping, which appears to be out already on Amazon. A quilter, Marilyn gave me two lovely pillow cases - with pillows, too - featuring that double wedding ring quilt pattern that Iris was making for Julia. I was stunned.  Thank you all.

Yesterday I had an enjoyable lunch/interview with Cathy Free of the Deseret News, who writes a column called Free Lunch. She wanted to know about my research for My Loving Vigil Keeping, so I brought along the 1900 Winter Quarters census, and a bunch of photos and anecdotes about mining in general and the mine disaster in particular. Let me put in a plug for the Gourmandie French Bakery, a delightful eatery in downtown Salt Lake City, where we had the interview. The food was good, and there were cases of Napoleons, eclairs, and other wickedness. The interview will be out in about three weeks.

And a book launch - apparently a booksigning on steroids - is scheduled for August 11 in South Jordan at the Seagull Bookstore in the South District  from 3-6. The other two authors are bringing along chocolates, and other extravagances. I opted for grapes and maybe those little grape tomatoes which are as good as candy. And there will be drawings for books.

Boo, the Thief



Now to the topic at hand - Boo, our thieving cat. Daughter Liz moved back a couple years ago to regroup, and brought along Flower Jane, a feline refugee from the mean streets of Midland, Texas.  Also in Liz's entourage was Mr. Pants, whose claim to fame is not brains, but a luxurious tail. Last fall, we added to the traveling circus by acquiring Boo, a mostly Siamese named thus because he arrrived around Halloween, and because he's skittish.

He's more than skittish. To quote a line from some stage play: "He would make coffee nervous." From his earliest kitten days, Boo liked to squirrel things away. Liz had a little stuffed Kermit the Frog. Had is the operative word, because Kermit was last sighted being dragged away to points unknown by a kitten not much larger than he was. Rest In Peace, Kermit, wherever you are.

We have our suspicions. Our basement is sort of finished but not quite. The room where Liz sleeps we have charitably dubbed a bedroom, but there is a need for better sheetrock, paint, a carpet, and clever ceiling work to disguise the ductwork. It'll be remodeled next year probably, after we recover from the kitchen remodel that starts any day now. Or never. You know how contractors are.

Boo has a hidey hole in the intricacy of the ductwork, where there is a little shelf. When the doorbell rings, he usually growls (or mutters) and hightails it downstairs to the hidey hole. I suspect that is where he stashes things.

I recently bought a "Draig" (dragon) necklace, to channel my inner Welsh. It seems like a nice thing to wear when I am feeling in need of a dragon, and I have the DNA and the bona fides to wear it. It came in a nice little red satin bag with a drawstring. I set it in a brass bowl on my desk where I keep paperclips. (See accompanying photo) The dragon was inside the little bag, and all was right with the world, until Boo jumped on my desk, took the bag in his mouth and started downstairs with it.

I stopped him immediately, and replaced it in the brass bowl. A few minutes later, Boo did the same thing. I wasn't paying attention until he was down the basement stairs. Fearing that my dragon was about to end up wherever Kermit was, I took off after him. He dropped the red bag by the bedroom where his hidey hole is, and I put the dragon away this time, since Boo was decidedly singleminded about the matter.

Maybe I should put a GPS device in the red bag with the dragon and let Boo have his way. I'm willing to wager that the dragon will end up next to the long-lost Kermit, and probably Jimmy Hoffa and Amelia Earheart, too.

Wanted: Readers

First, some housekeeping: Marilyn Bown, two ward book clubs, a quilters club and a single ward have invited me to their book club meeting in West Jordan on Thursday, July 26. Should be fun. I promise to behave. On August 9, from 6-8 p.m., I'll be schmoozing at the LDS Booksellers Convention somewhere in Salt Lake City. On August 11 from 3-6 p.m., I'll be participating in a book launch at a South Jordan Seagull Bookstore. I like Seagull booksignings. On Wednesday, August 15, from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., I'll be at the BYU Bookstore signing My Loving Vigil Keeping, and whatever else the company puts on the table. And then I'll crawl back in my writer's hole for a while and- ahem - write.

Second, a disclaimer. There's someone out there named Carla Kelly who has written at least one vegan cookbook. It's not moi. I once went vegan for about 20 minutes, and that was enough. I looked on Amazon, and that Carla Kelly's cookbook is nestled 'mongst my books, or vice versa, depending on which Carla Kelly I am.

Third, my interesting friends and their way-out books. We're friends with Barbara and Gene Strate. Barbara is a marvelous little lady who does reiki, and tells way better stories than I can. Her husband, Gene, is the Carbon County Attorney. If you say, "Gene, who?" that's the right answer, because people with an up close and personal acquaintance with Gene have usually been, uh, prosecuted. It's hard to imagine a more kind, gentlemanly fellow than Gene, so he doesn't fit the blood-in-the-water stereotype of a prosecuting attorney.

Gene's a voracious reader, and also a lender of interesting tomes. I just finished his loan of Tales of a Rat-Catching Man, by David Brian Plummer, a Welshmen with the hobby of, eww gross, rat-catching. It's a classic of the genre and the first of many books Plummer wrote about dogs. I returned the favor by sending him The Tiger:  True Story of Vengeance and Survival, by John Vaillant. Published last year, the book tells the tale of a man-eater in that lawless, neglected area of Russia that sits close to China. That book scared the brown spots off my hands.

Gene and I will probably start to challenge each other on who can produce the more off-the-wall read. I'll save my master stroke for a strategic moment, and spring The Ascent of Rum Doodle, by W.E. Brown, on him someday. Written in 1956, this mountain climbing parody is achingly funny, and worth every penny of whatever you have to pay. My older son loaned me his copy. Jeremy and I keep each other in good books.

I don't think Jeremy will be able to "best" me this Christmas, when we do our biggest gotcha books. I finally found him a reasonably affordable copy of The Album of Gunfighters, by J. Marvin and others. Published originally in 1951, this beyond-cool book shows page after gory page of gun fighters - their lives, their deaths, etc. For whatever reason, after a bad guy bit the dust, the townsfolk would line him out on the sidewalk and call in the photographer. Maybe it was as a cautionary tale.  Some of those bad-a**es were drilled right between the eyes, a testimony to someone's sharpshooting. Then there are the photos of hangings. Boy howdy, what a mess. One of the gents lost his head...

It's hard to imagine a more unpolitically correct book. I love it. Wish I had a copy of my own. I ordered it now, because I want to look through The Album of Gunfighters before I have to give it up for Christmas.

My very kind husband got me a great reference work yesterday from Deseret Industries for $50 , T. C. Romney's The Mormon Colonies in Mexico. As it turns out, it was the one book I have been needing to round out my research for my next novel. Thank you, Martin!

For fun and games, I've been reading Steven Havill lately, who writes about a crusty ol' undersheriff in a fictitious New Mexico county. Good stuff.

Yep, we love to read in our house. One thing makes me really sad: People who can read, but choose not to. I can't imagine that much poverty.