by Roseanna White | Oct 7, 2015 | Remember When Wednesdays
WhiteFire Publishing has a busy, busy month. Never in our history have we had more than 2 books come out in a month, but this year the schedule ended up with a few holes in the early part of the year, and then 3 titles releasing simultaneously on October 15–and 2 of them are historicals, so I thought I’d chat a bit about what’s taking up my days right now. 😉
Our first title is actually a contemporary by Melody Carlson. Her Dear Daphne Series began with B&H Publishing, but when the company shut down its fiction line, Melody’s series got caught halfway finished. WhiteFire acquired the remaining two books in the series and are thrilled to be releasing book 3 of Dear Daphne this month!
Dear Daphne is a continuity series, where each book picks up right where the previous one left off–no wonder the readers have been clamoring for this next installment! And they’re going to love it. Daphne Ballinger, in previous books, discovered her aunt had left her a sizable inheritance…but only if Daphne got married within a year. Her aunt didn’t want Daphne to be alone, like she was–but talk about pressure! Lock, Stock, and Over a Barrel and Dating, Dining, and Desperation see Daphne coming to terms with this odd will and trying to find Mr. Right. Instead she finds a young girl in need of a caretaker. In Home, Hearth, and the Holidays, Daphne and young Mabel are settling down for their first holiday season in the small town of Appleton. But what first looks like an answer to all their problems might just destroy the cozy little family they’re building. Is there any hope at all that love will find Daphne before springtime?
We at WhiteFire are so happy to be working with Melody to bring this series to completion! And after the remaining 2 books in Dear Daphne, she’ll also be working with us on a historical series. =) (See how I tie that back into history for Remember When Wednesday? Eh? Eh??)
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Next we have the second book in the Steadfast Love Series, The Sound of Silver.
You may remember a bit about this series from last fall when we held the photo shoot. (The ridiculously photogenic model for the series is my niece, Jayna, who loved playing dress-up for me.) Where the first book, The Sound of Diamonds, took us into the terrifying Iconoclastic Fury (Protestants acting with violence toward the Catholics, seeking to destroy all the icons) in the Low Countries and then back to England, the stakes have shifted in book 2. No longer is Catholicism and Protestantism the main conflict between the characters–now a new question has been asked. To what lengths must a man go to restore his honor…and to protect those he loves? And to what lengths can a young lady go to convince that man to let her remain at his side?
One thing I really love about this series is the idea from the which the titles come. Gwyneth, our heroine, has bad eyesight and relies heavily on her other senses, especially sound. In book one, she hears the sound of her diamond rosary clinking together and associates it with hope. I absolutely loved the role of silver in this one–though I won’t spoil it for you. 😉
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And our final release is the start of a new, oh-so-fun series! Revolving around the World’s Fairs of the turn of the 20th century, the first book begins with the Pan-American Expo in Buffalo, NY in 1901…the fair at which President McKinley was shot.
Clara Lambert is a Kodak girl–meaning, she’s been hired to go around the fair demonstrating the new, lightweight, easy-to-use Kodak camera, targeting mothers so that they can see how easy it will be to build visual memories for their families. But her first day at the fair, what should have been pure excitement at getting to photographs the president turns to horror when an anarchist shoots him. And gets even more terrifying when someone tries to hurt her and take her camera. Did she capture something on the film that the anarchists wish she hadn’t? What follows is fun, sweet, adventurous journey through New York of 1901 as Clara and police officer James seek to deliver all evidence safely to the authorities…without implicating Clara in the process. You’ll love this romance, and the history that shines through as characters ride newfangled bicycles, share the Joy of those first family cameras, and take sips of the new Coca-Cola.
by Roseanna White | Sep 23, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
Gracious, my blogging has been sporadic! Sorry about that, all. I came home from vacation and was completely swamped by work. A good thing, but I kept totally spacing what day of the week it was and what that meant concerning blogs. 😉
But this being me, you can rest assured I spent my vacation being geeky and collecting history books about the Outer Banks. I found myself wondering as we drove along what the islands would have been like before the big bridge was built to connect them to the mainland. Where did they get their fresh water? (Cisterns and desalination shacks.) When did electricity arrive? (The 1940s!!!)
Well, I found so many interesting tales! One of my favorites was from the antebellum days, when the Outer Banks were an oft-forgotten outpost occasionally used, even then, as a resort. One young man told a tale of arriving on the island by boat for a stay at the hotel in Kitty Hawk. He describes with awe the great sand dunes he has to hike over to get to his lodging–the most sand he had ever seen in his life, and it went all the way up to his ankles while he walked.
He and the other guests found charming the laid-back island atmosphere…which wasn’t so laid back when it came to meals. Being a sophisticated fellow, he was accustomed to supper being served at 8 o’clock or even later, but not so on the island. It was served at 6, and if you missed it, sorry ’bout your luck.
Houses on the island never had cellars, but what I hadn’t realized was that early ones didn’t have ceilings either. All the rafters were open, which this guest found lovely and pleasant when it was a matter of the frangrant breezes whispering to him…but when the wind kicked up, it would blow sand straight into the houses, filling beds, bowls, mouths, eyelids…
That’s one part of history I’m happy to leave in the past, LOL.
Most of the gentleman who came to the islands did so for the duck hunting. And most residents of the island made their living from catering to these rich folks, or from hunting and fishing and selling it to New York or Philadelphia. So it was a huge setback to island life when a law was passed in the 1920s that severely restricted hunting. This was also near the time when the government first talked of making it a national park–and so, to preserve it, they constructed beach-side sand dunes to keep the island were it was.
The problem for locals? With the dunes came a law that animals were no longer allowed to run free. As a small, insular community, islanders had to be pretty self-sufficient, which meant keeping chickens, cows, pigs, etc. But it’s not exactly fabulous pasture around there, so everyone let their livestock run free until this point–and were none too happy about this whole “park” idea when it began interfering with even their most basic way of life.
But the idea got derailed anyway. At one point after WWII they even saw oil prospectors arrive…but who found nothing. The park service did eventually turn part of the island into a wildlife preserve, and like people everywhere, the islanders adapted to the times as they changed. Eventually it was rediscovered as a vacation spot, and now, driving through the bustling towns of Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, and Kill Devil Hills, you can’t see so much as a glimpse of the island’s beginnings.
But it’s there, hidden in the more out-of-the-way places. Still whispering on those sea breezes.
by Roseanna White | Sep 11, 2015 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
This is a repost–many times over–but a bit of a tradition. During this week when I’ve been so focused on promoting and marketing a new book, it seems vital to pause to remember a day that changed all our lives forever.
I remembering thinking on September 12, 2001, “What stories are going to matter now? How will they ever look anything but trivial?” But we always need stories. Mine, however, may have changed a bit after that day. Because suddenly it wasn’t just an academic idea anymore that life can change in an instant. That enemies lurked. But that even in that darkness, God is still there. A theme you’ll find in much of my writing.
In this piece, published by a local newspaper that week, you’ll see I pray that this would wake us up to recognize, and stop tolerating, evil. Looking at the world today, I fear we’ve fallen back into a slumber, since it isn’t our buildings tumbling today.
But it’s the Church. Today, I pray this same prayer again.
To my Brother, the Stranger
(written on 9/12/01)
I
did not know you. I never met you. If I had seen you, you would have
been simply a face in the crowd. My thoughts never touched upon the
possibility of your existence.
And yet. . .
And
yet when I heard of the tragedy of losing you, you were suddenly my
brother, my sister, my best friend. You were the comrade I never had
the opportunity to meet, the face I could sketch simply because of how
many faces you are. And every time I open my mind, it is to realize
anew that you were a person, you were loved, and now you’re gone.
It’s
a shock I never expected to feel, a pain no man, woman, or child should
ever have to endure. And I did not know you. How much worse must it
be for the widows, the orphans, the childless parents, the brotherless
sisters that were made on that day? How much worse again for those who
yet know nothing about the fate of those dearest to them?
It
is a pain no one should have to gaze on, much less be consumed by. It
is a piercing that should quickly tear down all barriers until there is
nothing left but a shaken humanity, a resolved people, a united nation.
It should induce the best in man when he looks at evil, when he sees
the dancing in his enemy’s camps. It should make him realize that the
sickness he feels, the death he sees is a presence to be ignored no
longer.
I pray that
somehow this change in our lives will be used in a way to make us
better. I pray that as I walk down the streets of my untouched city I
never forget that it could be gone in a moment. I pray that as I pass a
stranger I remember to remember that he is not a stranger to someone. I
pray that soon all our fears are exhausted and we are left instead with
hope. And I pray that we never take for granted the greatness of our
nation, lest through our disregard it lose that thing that sets us
apart.
I can never say the
right words to those who are grieving, because there are no words to be
said. I did not know you. I never met you. All I can offer you is
the love of a face you have never seen and the prayers of a heart that
is reaching across the miles to the strangers it now calls brothers.
May
God enfold us in His arms until the terror goes away. May He settle
his peace over us until the rivers of tears run dry. May He comfort us
until we become victorious. And may we never forget that it is He who
will lift us from the mire. Today America has united in common
anguish. Tomorrow we will rejoice in justice. And all the world will
know that this is a nation that God has blessed and will never forsake.
Let us be the first to proclaim that.
To my Brother, the Stranger
(written on 9/12/01)
I did not know you. I never met you. If I had seen you, you would have
been simply a face in the crowd. My thoughts never touched upon the
possibility of your existence.
And yet. . .
And yet when I heard of the
tragedy of losing you, you were suddenly my brother, my sister, my best
friend. You were the comrade I never had the opportunity to meet, the
face I could sketch simply because of how many faces you are. And every
time I open my mind, it is to realize anew that you were a person, you
were loved, and now you’re gone.
It’s a shock I never expected to
feel, a pain no man, woman, or child should ever have to endure. And I
did not know you. How much worse must it be for the widows, the
orphans, the childless parents, the brotherless sisters that were made
on that day? How much worse again for those who yet know nothing about
the fate of those dearest to them?
It is a pain no one should have
to gaze on, much less be consumed by. It is a piercing that should
quickly tear down all barriers until there is nothing left but a shaken
humanity, a resolved people, a united nation. It should induce the best
in man when he looks at evil, when he sees the dancing in his enemy’s
camps. It should make him realize that the sickness he feels, the death
he sees is a presence to be ignored no longer.
I pray that somehow this change
in our lives will be used in a way to make us better. I pray that as I
walk down the streets of my untouched city I never forget that it could
be gone in a moment. I pray that as I pass a stranger I remember to
remember that he is not a stranger to someone. I pray that soon all our
fears are exhausted and we are left instead with hope. And I pray that
we never take for granted the greatness of our nation, lest through our
disregard it lose that thing that sets us apart.
I can never say the right words
to those who are grieving, because there are no words to be said. I did
not know you. I never met you. All I can offer you is the love of a
face you have never seen and the prayers of a heart that is reaching
across the miles to the strangers it now calls brothers.
May God enfold us in His arms
until the terror goes away. May He settle his peace over us until the
rivers of tears run dry. May He comfort us until we become victorious.
And may we never forget that it is He who will lift us from the mire.
Today America has united in common anguish. Tomorrow we will rejoice in
justice. And all the world will know that this is a nation that God
has blessed and will never forsake. Let us be the first to proclaim
that.
– See more at: http://roseannamwhite.blogspot.com/2011/09/reality-union-hope-from-911.html#sthash.cODtO3eq.dpuf
by Roseanna White | Aug 26, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, Remember When Wednesdays
It’s the 4th Wednesday of the month, which means my turn on Colonial Quills! Today I’m talking about pirates (arrrr!)–but not the in Caribbean, like we’re used to thinking. These pirates roamed New York City! Hop on over to read about it!
Who isn’t a fan of a good pirate tale? But when we think of Colonial-era
pirates, we usually imagine warm Caribbean waters and palm trees, white
sand beaches with those ships looming in the harbor. We don’t usually
think of America’s northeast–but we should. In the late 1600s, one of
the most bustling pirate dens wasn’t Port Royal or Tortuga. It was the
City of New York. Read the Full Article
by Roseanna White | Aug 5, 2015 | Ancient World, Remember When Wednesdays
In the final book of my Ladies of the Manor series, which I just finished writing, I have a character from Russia. Now, I’ve longed loved Russian literature, which has given me a bit of an understanding of that famed Russian soul, but it’s been a while since I’ve read any. So I picked up an awesome book on Russian culture and the ideas and morals behind it to help me write Kira Belova in a believable way.
Throughout the book, she peppers in some of her Russian-peasant stories and traditions, which I think are oh-so-intriguing. And tells one of their most prevalent folk tales, about the mystical city of Kitzeh.
Kitzeh, so tradition goes, was the most righteous city in the world, filled with true believers–those of the Russian Orthodox faith who practiced it as Christ and the disciples themselves instituted, with none of the compromises and corruptions that had crept into other faiths over the years. Kitzeh was so righteous that it was like Heaven on earth.
But when the Mongols invaded the Nizhegorod province where Kitzeh resided by a lake, the waters swallowed up this holy city to keep it from being overrun by the faithless invaders–but it was no tragedy for the occupants. No, they were all saved when this happened. And the story goes that the city is still alive and well under the surface of the waters…but only those of the truest faith can see it.
Every year on the summer solstice, people would go on pilgrimage to this lake in the Nizhegorod province, tacking icons to trees and gathering together in a sort of outdoor church, praying and singing…and listening for the tolling of the church bells under the water. Hoping, praying it will resurface.
Did Kira ever hear those bells? Well, you’ll just have to read the book to figure out that one. 😉
by Roseanna White | Jul 22, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, Remember When Wednesdays
It’s my day on Colonial Quills, and today I’m talking about the founding of the Georgia colony. Did you know it was meant to be a charity colony? Hop on over to read about it!
I learned a lot this year, teaching my kids early American history–and one of the things I’d never known before was about how the colony of Georgia came to be.
It began in the mind of General James Oglethorpe, who was greatly disturbed by all the poor he saw in London–and the drunkeness. He as his friends had been discussing the woeful situation for quite a while, with no ready solution coming to mind. Then one day they saw a map of North America, and they noticed a large swath of land still unclaimed on the Eastern seaboard, between English South Carolina and Spanish Florida. Read the Full Article
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.