Ragtown on Kindle Vella

 If you've followed my blog or followed me on social media, you know how long I have worked on Ragtown. It is truly a labor of love and finally, I can share it with everyone. 

RAGTOWN is now available on Kindle Vella! 

And it has definitely received a lot of love! Vella became a reality in mid-July, and Ragtown has remained in the top 20 Favorite Reads the entire time, peaking at NUMBER 1. 

If you aren't familiar with Kindle Vella, it's a new platform offered by Amazon. Please read my post "What Is Kindle Vella?" for more information. 

Ragtown

The Hoover Dam is a model of American engineering and ingenuity.  But, it is also a testament to the fortitude of the common man: overcoming the burdens of the Great Depression, learning to survive and thrive in an unforgiving climate.  It was that story that I was compelled to write. 

RAGTOWN explores the different roles placed on men and women during the Great Depression, not only by society, but themselves, and what each must do to survive in the harsh climate of the Nevada desert. As both Helen and Ezra are vested in the diversion of the Colorado River from the course it has run for thousands of years, their lives parallel this monumental change. 

My inspiration to write comes from the personal histories of actual dam workers who endured this remarkable era in American history.  It is through Helen and Ezra that I tell their story.

I hope you will all check it out on Kindle Vella, where the first THREE episodes are FREE to read. 

And please, don't forget to "thumbs up" at the end of the episodes, and consider RAGTOWN for your weekly FAV. 

CHECK IT OUT NOW ON KINDLE VELLA !

Why Rejection is Good and Zola

In November, 2011, after three and a half years, including research and writing time, I finally ‘finished’ my historical novel, Ragtown. I wrote an amazing query letter and an equally awesome synopsis and began the process of querying agents. By the summer of 2012, after approximately forty rejections (and I’m sure I’m underestimating that), I realized something was definitely wrong.

It’s not that it was a ‘bad’ novel-not at all. It was well written, rich in historical detail, a great story of one man’s struggle to overcome his own past while working in the diversion tunnels of the Hoover dam, a treacherous environment, during one of the worst economic disasters in American history. It’s timely. It has a wide audience appeal. It’s American-like baseball and apple pie. But no-one was interested.

So maybe it wasn’t that great?

Rejections are hard to take. Especially when they seem to be coming at a rate of two a week. However, I’ve never been one to assume that when it comes to writing, I am always right and all those that don’t like my work ‘just don’t understand the story (or the concept, or the structure, or the blah, blah,blah)’. No, not at all. The people that were rejecting me have been in this business a lot longer than me, so obviously, they were seeing something that I wasn’t.

Yes, I kind of ate a rock for Ragtown research

So last summer, I pulled out all of those rejections and looked for common concerns. As new rejections came to my email, I started asking questions, specifics-what wasn’t working?  The majority of the concerns seemed to be in the first fifty pages. That’s where I started.

In October, I began a complete revision that included cutting almost 20K words, most from the first one hundred pages. I changed POV’s, I even gave one character a badly needed libido. I sent it through three editors and an additional twelve readers.

Last month, I again finished Ragtown.

And yesterday, I was notified that Ragtown is a finalist for the Pacific Northwest Writers Association Zola Award for Historical Fiction.

Rejection is hard. It’s too easy to say to yourself, “they are right, I am not very good at this” and give up. It’s too easy to be hard headed about what professionals say about your work and claim that they “just don’t get it.” But my goal is to have Ragtown published, and in order to do that, I had to put my ego aside and listen. Rejections may be hard to swallow, but they are also a good way for a writer to see what others find difficult about your work. And by taking heed, you might make that wonderful novel sellable.

Ragtown, a historical novel

Finalist for the Zola Award

Represented by Svetlana Pironko

Author Rights Agency

32 Years to Write a Novel

Recently, someone mentioned that they were thinking of writing a book and asked me how long it takes to write an entire novel. This person knows I love to write and that I work for hours each day at the craft, and I guess he assumed all writers are alike. It's like building a house, right? A professional contractor can construct an average house in 60 days, so surely there is a standard time frame on writing the average book.  

 My response: It takes 32 years to write a novel.

In January, 2009, I began writing what I call a 'big book', Ragtown, a historical novel set during the building of the Hoover Dam. I finished it in November, 2011 and in December of that year, started querying it.  The exciting thing about that time was the quick responses I had to look at pages, which only convinced me that yes, it was a 'big book'.  I started writing a second novel in January. Might as well have the next one ready, right?

What was not nearly as exciting about that time were the rejections.  The writing they loved, the story they loved, but 1.and 2.and 3.and... After several months of this, I had to face the fact that although I loved the story, all of the comments I had received were valid. And it was time to kill my darlings.

It's not that I have a problem revising, not at all. But no one could pinpoint exactly what it was that Ragtown needed or lacked.  I certainly couldn't, as I was too close to the manuscript, and I tweaked and cut and added and reworded and...until I felt brain fluid leaking out my nose.  The problem was definitely in the first 75 pages, but, what, exactly? Four well established professional authors, two editors, twelve critical readers and thirty rejections later, I still wasn't satisfied.

So I started with page 1. I know that sounds like the obvious place to start, but for a writer, it's 'easier' to just revise what you've written. However, I had a half completed manuscript stuck in a drawer that I just decided wasn't the book I wanted to write, so I knew it was the right way to go.  And I began:

Once Upon A Time, in a land where hand cramps and eye strain rule...

I rewrote the first 75 pages. And again. And again. And again. Back through the channels of editors, writers, readers and rewrote again. And again. And again.

Today, 3 years and 1 month after I began this 'big book', I am satisfied--no, thrilled--with the first 28 pages.  28? What happened to 75? Well, after reading all of the comments from those above, I figured out the problem.  Going through the rest of the manuscript is proving to be--I don't want to use the word easy, because writing is not an easy game--but manageable. I know the problem. I know how to fix it, and I'm burning through pages now like a wildfire on crack.

Since I'm a tireless worker and don't seem to require much sleep, I should have it completed and ready to attack the query trail again in just a few months. I'm excited about it this time: for the right reasons.

3 years and 30 days to finally be satisfied with 28 pages. That is 32 years to write an entire novel.  Sound easy? Go for it.

Now querying THEY CALL ME CRAZY

Soon to rise from the depths of the Colorado River:  RAGTOWN (again)  

I Am Strong

Recently, while talking about Ragtown with two friends, Jenifer Badamo and Cristy Minton, the subject of strong women came up.  Although my historical novel is set during the building of the Hoover Dam, I really tried to capture the experiences of the families involved in the project, not just the men who worked in the diversion tunnels.  Yes, my guys are, for the most part, tough guys, but my women are strong, too, each in their own way.  Since this is the beginning of what is known in my family as 'Kelly Week' (I'll explain that later), I thought it would be fun to tell you about a few of my strong Ragtown women.

 

Betsy Carter arrived in the desert eight months pregnant and gave birth to her youngest of three children on a hot desert night on the bank of the Colorado River.  Although Betsy is the motherly influence, underneath that Mother Hubbard is one tough gal.  She is a crack shot with a pistol, and not afraid to use it to protect her family.

 

As young girls, Mae and Sally had dreams of one day marrying and living happily ever after.  However, when both of their parents died, Mae, a teenager, was forced to do whatever was necessary to take care of her younger sister.  It was the 1930's and what few jobs were available were reserved for men. Mae and Sally work as prostitutes in the small cribs behind the Railroad Pass Casino.

 

Helen Carter is a sixteen year old firecracker.  Small and redheaded, she has a mind of her own.  While the other residents of Ragtown are withering under the desert heat, Helen seems to take her strength from it.  She is part of the desert and finds beauty in what others consider ugly.  If there is a rock of the novel, it is Helen.

 

So as 'Kelly Week' begins, my conversation with Jen and Cristy comes back around, because during the conversation, Cristy made the following comment, which really hit home: 

I think we are ALL strong, just most of us don't see that in ourselves...

I have friends that have overcome breast cancer, have undergone chemotherapy for Hepatitis, have lost husbands and children.  I know women who are raising kids with Autism and other disabilities, who are taking care of their parents and grandparents, and who are raising families on their own.  I have writer friends who have dug deep into their souls to share painful past experiences, others who are working on advanced degrees to improve their lives, and still others that have become successful businesswomen in a world that is still dominated by men.   These are the women I consider strong.  I certainly don't always think of myself as strong, but I am a Nurse, and a mother and I have made it to 29 (whatever).  So, in my own way, I am strong, too.  As Cristy said, 'most of us don't see that in ourselves'.  Well, it's time we do.

Now to 'Kelly Week'.  National Nurses Week is celebrated annually from May 6, also known as National Nurses Day, through May 12, the birthday of Florence Nightingale, the founder of modern nursing.  My birthday is on May 7, and I will be 29 (or something with a '9' in it).  And of course, Mothers Day is May 13, and of all of the hats I wear, that's the one I cherish most. 

 

But I'm changing 'Kelly Week' to 'Strong Women Week' (since it is a made-up week of celebration, I can do that).  Thank the Nurses you know for all they do, show your Mother how much she means to you, and by all means, raise a glass to my 29-ish years.  But also, take the time to say thank you to ALL of the women in your life for just being the amazing people they are.  And women, take a minute to see the strength in yourself.  Then say it loud: 

I AM STRONG.

Hoover Dam Stories: Four Women

With the country experiencing a Depression like never before, men from around the country made their way to the harsh Nevada desert in 1931 to find work on the Boulder Canyon Project.  They lived openly in the desert, or under makeshift shelters that consisted of canvas, stray pieces of ply board or cardboard---basically whatever they could find.  Small shanty towns populated by the homeless, “Hoovervilles,” lined the highway from the Black Canyon worksite to Las Vegas, some forty miles away. 

The men did not all come alone; some brought their families.  Although the exact numbers are unknown, some estimates run as high as forty thousand people: unemployed and homeless living in an unforgiving climate.  Temperatures often reached one hundred-twenty degrees by early in the morning and did not come down until late in the night.  Nearer the worksite, temperatures were even higher, and inside the diversion tunnels of the project, for those that were lucky enough to get a job, temperatures were often up to one hundred-forty degrees. 

But the unrelenting heat was just one of the hazards of living in the desert for the men, women and children of the Hoovervilles like Ragtown.  Food was scarce, water sources were often contaminated, and of course, they had the native 'residents' to worry about: Black Widow spiders.  Rattlesnakes.  Centipedes.  Red Ants.  Scorpions.       

On July 26, 1931, four women in Ragtown died of 'the fever', which was most likely dysentery-related, compliments of the Colorado River, where they drank, bathed, laundered and well, you know the rest.  But it was water, and the river was, most likely, what kept most of them alive.  But nothing comes without a cost, and although the river was a life source, it was also a danger, and once in a while, bad wins out over good. 

While the men who worked on the project faced many challenges, I feel it is also important to remember the struggles that the women and children faced.  Therefore, my upcoming novel, Ragtown, begins on July 26, 1931.  A day when four women died in the desert Hooverville called Ragtown.  Four women who were  just trying to survive.

Back to Crazy

For those of you that read my blog regularly, you might remember that in January, with an idea and an overactive muse, I wrote a novel in 16 days.  As I said then, sure, it was pre-editing, but still, I am a fairly deep researcher and to crank anything out that fast seemed impossible to me. But, I did, and now, three months later, I have edited, revised, reread, slashed, hacked, cut scenes, added scenes, and finally, today, sent it to an editor.  Yes, And They Call Me Crazy is moving right along. 

 

So, I've decided to tell you a little about it.  Here goes.

And They Call Me Crazy takes place in the small Kansas town of Bally Springs.  It is a fictional town, but closely resembles the small town that I grew up in.  It centers around a mid-thirties woman, Cass Adams, who decides to whack her husband over the head with a shovel and bury him in their yard.  Yes, Cass has a few problems.

I wrote this book as an exploration of flawed characterization and unreliable narration.  It is told in first person, present tense from eight narrators, all of whom have problems of their own. 

  

I'll be ripping and rewriting when it is returned from my editor, but in the meantime, I'm fairly happy with the progress.  So check out the blurb, listen to a little Patsy Cline, and I will go back to my new WIP, currently untitled, the second novel in what will become my Ragtown/Hoover Dam trilogy. 

Back to work!

And We'll Call It Research...

 

I've said this before and I'll say it again; I love researching for a novel.  Of course, I enjoy reading the non-fiction accounts that relate to my setting, but the best part is getting out in the world, going to the site and touching the rocks, smelling the creosote and hearing the sounds that I am writing about.

Hard working research assistants

Lucky for me, Ragtown, as well as the next novel I'm working on, takes place in what is now the Lake Mead Recreation Area and Boulder City, Nevada.  My historic novels take place eighty years ago, during the building of the Hoover Dam, so I do have to envision these sites as they would have appeared then, but it isn't too difficult.

And did I say this involves hanging out at Lake Mead Recreation Area?

 So Spring is here, and I will be spending a lot of time at Lake Mead swimming, hiking in the mountains, riding trains and looking for Big Horn Sheep doing research and more research and more research.  

  
Grueling, I know, but writing is a tough life and someone has to do it.

This little guy followed us around, watching from above

You can read about my other Ragtown research adventures here.  Yes, it's true, I ate a rock.    

Hoover Dam Stories: Double Ugly and the Glory Hole

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Return of the Desert Darlings!

What better way to close out 2011 and begin 2012 than with a replay of one of my most popular posts?  Have a wonderful New Year everyone. Stay safe....

Prostitution has always gotten a bad rap and during the Great Depression it was a topic of widespread comment and concern.  Many Americans believed that the economic crisis might lead to social and sexual chaos and cited the increase in prostitution as an example of this. Sadly, they failed to understand that in many cases, prostitutes were not the morally weak, selfish, power hungry femmes of early films such as Baby Face and Blonde Venus, instead they were women, single women and single mothers, who like the men of the Hoover Dam, did what they could to stay alive. The idea of the male supported family was prevalent, welfare was non-existent and women had few economic opportunities available. Ads like those below were common.

 LV Evening Review Journal 6/24/31

LV Evening Review Journal 8/18/31

In 1930, Las Vegas was a railroad town with a population of just over five thousand. Due to a zoning glitch when the town was originally laid out, two areas in North Vegas, what is now the downtown area, were exempted from the laws that restricted gambling, alcohol and prostitution. One of those two areas, known as Block 16, became famous for its easy access to prostitution.  The bars and casinos in this area had tiny shacks in the back where their clients could be serviced, and one establishment, the Arizona Club, built a second floor to house a bordello.

Between 1930-1931 an estimated 40,000 unemployed men arrived in Las Vegas in hopes of getting one of the 5,000 jobs that would be available at the new government works project later to be known as the Hoover Dam. The legalization of gambling in 1931 brought visitors and gamblers in record numbers, and the liberal divorce laws introduced in the same year increased the population as well.  Block 16 thrived. The girls paid the city doctor $2 a week for a medical clearance, which kept them off the law’s radar. At one point, an estimated 300 women worked the area as prostitutes. Brothels and speakeasies were scattered along US 93/95 between Las Vegas and Boulder City, the government sponsored town built for the Hoover Dam workers. In 1931, the Railroad Pass casino opened just beyond the gate of the Boulder Canyon Project Federal Reservation. Behind the casino on the hillside, tents and small cribs were set up where prostitutes performed their services.

And they were very popular with the men from the dam.

Oral history records reflect that there are fond memories of the prostitutes. An entry from the diary of a Hoover Dam medic states he paid “$2 to Babe to blow it.”  Quite a job, I must say, considering that men at the dam made an average of $5 a day.

In my upcoming novel, Ragtown, Mae and Sally are sisters that work the cribs behind the Railroad Pass. While their presence in the novel was originally intended to be minor, Sally and Mae took over at some point and decided they had a story of their own to tell. Two women, just trying to survive.  And as Sally states, “the dam isn’t the only dangerous place to work in the desert.”

Desert Darlings

What better way to close out 2011 and begin 2012 than with a replay of one of my most popular posts?  Have a wonderful New Year everyone. Stay safe....

Prostitution has always gotten a bad rap and during the Great Depression it was a topic of widespread comment and concern.  Many Americans believed that the economic crisis might lead to social and sexual chaos and cited the increase in prostitution as an example of this. Sadly, they failed to understand that in many cases, prostitutes were not the morally weak, selfish, power hungry femmes of early films such as Baby Face and Blonde Venus, instead they were women, single women and single mothers, who like the men of the Hoover Dam, did what they could to stay alive. The idea of the male supported family was prevalent, welfare was non-existent and women had few economic opportunities available. Ads like those below were common.

 LV Evening Review Journal 6/24/31

LV Evening Review Journal 8/18/31

In 1930, Las Vegas was a railroad town with a population of just over five thousand. Due to a zoning glitch when the town was originally laid out, two areas in North Vegas, what is now the downtown area, were exempted from the laws that restricted gambling, alcohol and prostitution. One of those two areas, known as Block 16, became famous for its easy access to prostitution.  The bars and casinos in this area had tiny shacks in the back where their clients could be serviced, and one establishment, the Arizona Club, built a second floor to house a bordello.

Between 1930-1931 an estimated 40,000 unemployed men arrived in Las Vegas in hopes of getting one of the 5,000 jobs that would be available at the new government works project later to be known as the Hoover Dam. The legalization of gambling in 1931 brought visitors and gamblers in record numbers, and the liberal divorce laws introduced in the same year increased the population as well.  Block 16 thrived. The girls paid the city doctor $2 a week for a medical clearance, which kept them off the law’s radar. At one point, an estimated 300 women worked the area as prostitutes. Brothels and speakeasies were scattered along US 93/95 between Las Vegas and Boulder City, the government sponsored town built for the Hoover Dam workers. In 1931, the Railroad Pass casino opened just beyond the gate of the Boulder Canyon Project Federal Reservation. Behind the casino on the hillside, tents and small cribs were set up where prostitutes performed their services.

And they were very popular with the men from the dam.

Oral history records reflect that there are fond memories of the prostitutes. An entry from the diary of a Hoover Dam medic states he paid “$2 to Babe to blow it.”  Quite a job, I must say, considering that men at the dam made an average of $5 a day.

In my upcoming novel, Ragtown, Mae and Sally are sisters that work the cribs behind the Railroad Pass. While their presence in the novel was originally intended to be minor, Sally and Mae took over at some point and decided they had a story of their own to tell. Two women, just trying to survive.  And as Sally states, “the dam isn’t the only dangerous place to work in the desert.”

The Gift of Me

As writers, we pride ourselves on our ability to tell a story.  No matter the genre or the length, everything we do, in essence, is a product of us constructing a sequence of events and writing it in a way that others will find enjoyable.  I like to think it is our gift.   

Although we love to share our own little darlings, we should also consider that writing is not our only talent---we have the ability, and the desire, to share stories, regardless of who wrote them. We are storytellers. And at Christmas time, for some people, a story can be the greatest gift.

We've all read at least one book to a child, and delighted in their appreciation.  Some of us have read to a church group, or to family or in front of a class. Regardless of the audience, it is an experience like no other. It is a way to share something we love, a story, and see the effect it has on another.    

In the coming week, I will be reading to a group of senior citizens.  It's not the first time I've done this, nor will it be the last.  But this time, I won't be reading something I wrote, because it isn't about me.  This is a way to give something to them, a generation of people that have given so much for all of us, and it is something that they will appreciate more than a pair of socks, or a card, or a flower.

It is the gift of me.  My time and my talent for storytelling. I can assume we will discuss it and then share memories that the story may evoke.  We may laugh, we may cry, we may break into song. But in return for this, I know I will get smiles and hugs and encouragement.  Their gift to me.     

As writers, storytellers, I like to think that we have a gift---isn't this a great time to share it?