MOTHERHOOD IS THE NECESSITY OF INVENTION

That was the title of a book I intended to write a number of years ago. The kids were small. Life was rough, and income scarce. So bad that we were on the regular cut-off list for the electric meter man. One day I saw him coming and ran out to meet him, paid receipt in hand. "Oh, sorry," he said. "I guess it just got to be a habit."

I was thinking about all the things I did to adapt, make ends meet. And I'll admit, the way I made things did have a lot of people amazed. I thought myself quite clever, clever enough to write them in a book. But it never got done. Being clever while raising five kids takes a lot of time, you see. And when I finally decided if I hoped to ever get out of the poverty cycle, I'd better get back to school and get my degree, book writing was set aside for some future time.

That was my "Blaze of Glory" period- as in, "Might as well go out in a Blaze of Glory." Because that's what going to college full-time while raising five kids, baby-sitting for other moms and selling home-baked bread to neighbors is.

Side-tracked, there. That's only tangential to my point. My point is, I see my daughters, as mothers, doing the same thing. When something can't be done, they find a way to do it. Does it mean sewing a garment you can't afford to buy? Getting a degree to get a better job while working and raising kids? Writing a book? Painting a watercolor? Building a gadget to do something better? Working a night shift or getting a tele-commute job, finding a way to help a step-child develop great study habits? Making grueling internet searches and bid to find the cheapest air tickets to Disney World for a mini-family reunion?

That's what moms do. They invent a way.

The book cover I'm posting here is a mock cover- the actual cover hasn't been designed yet. But more on LADY WICKED at the bottom of this post.

You might have noticed the new look. This design came about backwards, from a book cover design, which I then was told by a fairly large number of people was a book I should write. Yes I know, usually the book idea comes first, not the cover. But sometimes not so for me.

My original cover design was titled 10,000 YEARS, but my editor thinks 1,000 YEARS is better, and that then triggered improved plot thoughts. And then in the meantime, I needed a new website design, so I borrowed the elements from the cover design.

So now I'm in the process of remodeling both the blog and the website, and all that while in the middle of contest coordinating hell. The Royal Ascot is right at the point of assigning entries to the judges, which is the most annoyingly complex and confusing part of the entire contest. Later, when the entries return from the judges, it's pretty complex, but there's really nothing like getting them to the judges in the first place.

I should be through with this phase of the contest by Wednesday. I've got some interesting blogs coming up for you. But the website will take a bit more time because...

The exciting part! I've got my galleys for LADY WICKED and have only about 10 days left to complete them! We're moving so fast on this book, I think it just may get a release date before the end of the year! I don't think I've been so excited about a book release since the first one, FIRE DANCE, back in 2000. FD remained my favorite of all my books for years, but LADY WICKED has long since surpassed it.

The Indomitable Agostina Zaragoza: Maid of Saragossa

By all accounts, Agostina of Zaragosa was a woman of humble birth, one of those who might have passed her time in history unrecorded, had not circumstances beyond her control brought out her amazing strength of character.

Most of the population of the entire Continent of Europe felt helpless against the might of Napoleon's Grand Armee. Most great cities just capitulated when they saw him coming. Few battles were fought without enormous casualties on those defending armies. Napoleon invaded Spain, a country still largely locked in its own impoverished medieval past, something different happened. There isn't much positive that could be said about Spain's army or its generals, and the weak monarch and royal family could do nothing but flee. But the people were something else. In the end, it was the "Spanish Ulcer" that oozed the blood of the Napoleonic forces, keeping them tied up in Spain and unable to join the emainder of the armies in battles elsewhere.

Saragossa, or Zaragoza, was one of those small Spanish cities that lacked sufficient fortification to repel invaders, and to the French, it must have looked like easy prey, being surrounded by low, insubstantial brick walls, and only a few old cannons. The usual story of a siege was that once inside the city walls, the battle was over. But not at Saragossa. Inside the walls were many fortified convents and houses, so that the city was like a fortress comprised of many small fortresses.

There were actually two outstanding heroines at Saragossa. Countess Burita, said to be extraordinarily beautiful, had even more courage and determination than beauty, for she organized and led the city's women in resistance against the French. Agostina, a woman of low birth was among them. Initially the women provided assistance to the men, the usual carrying of water and ammunition. (Black powder was manufactured locally, so the people of Saragossa had the knowledge necessary to manufacture all they could use.)

When Agostina came upon a battery that was unattended, its men either dead or just gone, she took over firing herself, thus shaming the men who had abandoned the gun into returning. And let me tell you, just one person firing a park-size cannon is a pretty hard job. Normally a minimum crew of four is required for even a small cannon.

But Agostina didn't just quit when the guys came back. She kept on firing her cannon, and stayed with it until the French finally gave up the siege. Her true story was so inspiring that poets like Byron and Southey wrote about her and artists like Wilkie painted her. She was awarded medals and honors, and when asked to choose her own reward, wanted only two things: To take the name of her city as her own, becoming Agostina Zaragoza, and to continue fighting against the French. She was given both honors.

There is much more to the Siege of Saragossa, which the people, led by their hero, garrison commander Joseph Palafox, with the women continuing to pour their all under the Countess Burita's leadership. The indomitable city held out against the second siege for over 50 days. Eventually the city did fall to the French, but the survivors had forced the French to reasonable terms instead of complete annihilation. If you want to know more about this amazing city and its even more amazing women, this is one of the best descriptions:
http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=morris&book=spanish&story=saragossa

Women Heroines: Susanna Dalbiac, Heroine of Salamanca

Today is the first of my Women Heroines series, which will deal largely with historical women who broke the traditional women's mold by moving into traditionally male activities. I think I'd also like to emphasize men who encouraged women to step out of the shadows, but we'll see where this leads us. Susanna Dalbiac was definitely one of those women, and her husband Charles did not fail to support her.

***

SUSANNA DALBIAC: HEROINE OF SALAMANCA

The photo to the left may possibly be apparently Susanna Isabella Dalbiac, the heroine of my story here, but I doubt it because the dress is more typical of the 1860s, and it appears Susanna died in the early 1840s. The one below is more likely her daughter, Susanna Stephania Dalbiac, despite the apparent late 18th century dress. I'll explain more later. Above is a painting of the Battle of Salamanca, showing the 4th Light Dragoons charging.

Susanna was born in 1787 and married James Charles Dalbiac, who had joined the 4th Light Dragoons as a cornet in 1797 and made them his lifelong career. Charles joined the Portugal campaign in April 1809, and when he fell ill of a fever, Susanna rushed to his side to nurse him, and thereafter stayed with him.

According to William Napier, "This gentle lady has followed her husband through two whole campaigns in the Spanish Peninsula. She has been by his side in every danger- in every vicissitude she has borne her loving share. In all the thrilling movements of the past few days she has ridden close to her husband's regiment. Again and again has he urged her to seek security but as often she has refused to leave him."

On the night before the Battle of Salamanca, Susanna and her husband slept beneath the stars, she wrapped in his greatcoat, when a thunderstorm struck, stampeding the terrified cavalry horses. Charles snatched up his wife to safety atop some artillery pieces, and he climbed up after her, but there were many of the dragoons who were trampled, Thirty horses were still missing the next morning.

Despite such an inauspicious start to the day, Wellington found the advantage he needed in the audacious mistake of his counterpart, Marmont, who thought he was seizing an opportunity to outflank the British-Portuguese Army. But he didn't know Wellington had judiciously hidden Pakenham's 3rd Division behind the hill, at an angle to the main force, the very place where Marmont's troops hurried to attack and turn the British flank. As the French over-extended themselves to trap their foe, Pakenham lunged, cutting off a good part of the French forces. Then Le Marchant's Heavy Cavalry came at the enemy in a wild and brutal assault that left the French in ruins and their commander, Thomieres, dead.

The 4th Light Dragoons were a part of Le Marchant's assault, and Susanna rode after them. As described by Major Elliott, "The cannon shot of the enemy flew past her, the French shells burst all around. Leaden bullets pierced her riding habit in many places.. . The cavalry trumpets rang out an order, the horses broke into a rapid trot, she drew aside her horse, for she knew that a desperate charge was at that moment to be delivered."

As the cavalry rode into their own cloud of dust, Susanna spotted a color guard with an arm wound gushing blood, and she bandaged it and gave him wine from her flask. From then on, she raced about from one wounded man to another offering aid, and when her wine was gone, she bent to a stream to refill her flask, bullets flying all around her and splashing water in her face.

It was many hours later, hunting through the thousands of dead, dying and wounded, not knowing if he lived or had died, before she finally caught up with her husband again, and they embraced on the battlefield. "As the regiment was dismissed from its ranks, all its remaining men gathered around the brave lady with demonstrations of deepest admiration and respect."

Susanna stayed with her husband until they returned to England, and never returned to the campaign again. In 1814, she gave birth to her daughter, Susanna Stephania Dalbiac, who later married the Scottish Duke of Roxburgh. Many years later, Charles spoke of his wife, "Of this incomparable wife I will only add that a mind of the most refined cast, and with the frame of body alas too delicate she was, when in the field, a stranger to personal fear."

In looking for pictures of Susanna, I could find nothing at all. Then I came upon a family genealogy site which showed a picture of her husband James Charles Dalbiac, in his later years, still in uniform, and one of her daughter. But to me, there's something wrong with that photo. Most of you can probably spot it quickly. The young woman in the photo- probably a photo of a painting- is wearing a dress of the very late 18th or very early 19th Century, when the elder Susanna would have been a young woman. The younger Susanna was not born when this style was in fashion. So I thought perhaps the similarity of names fooled someone, and likely the younger Susanna's husband was better known. I have since my original posting about Susanna talked with a descendant, Pelham West, who provided a portrait of Susanna Isabella in mid-Victorian dress. He tells me this portrait of the younger Susanna hangs in Floors Castle, the ancestral home of the Duke of Roxburgh, who the younger Susanna married. He doubts if the duke would have had the portrait of his mother-in-law hanging in his home, and also notes the portrait was identified by a cousin who was more or less contemporary with the older Susanna, and may have met her.

So perhaps this is one of those paintings in which the subject posed in costume, perhaps representing a more famus figure. I wonder if those precise folds in the garment are meant to indicate a dress that was carefully folded and stored away, perhaps a dress of an earlier era, belonging to the heroic ancestor, Susanna Isabella Dalton Dalbiac. But I still think it is more likely the older woman. Pelham West suggests I get n touch with Floors Castle, or perhaps even go visit to see for myself. That sounds like an excellent idea.

Surprise Snow 2009

The weather folks seem to be caught off guard with the first snow every year. Last year it actually came on Christmas, the first snow I've ever seen in the Northwest on Christmas Day. This one is quite lovely. It was supposed to rain, with temp around 37. This started about an hour ago and is already over an inch deep. Temp about 34, so it's very wet. The flakes are giants, about 2 inches across or more. In the photos they are the indistinct white blobs that look like spilled white paint.


Jinx (above) and Frankie (left) have opted to take naps instead of trying out the snow. Frankie seems to have fallen in love with my hand mitt project.

A Holiday Video Card For You

In gratitude for all the friends, family, fans and supporters, those who simply drop by now and then, those who read, critique and review, and those who simply read my books, a donation has been made to Mercy Corps
Click here to view:

THE GIFT: A True Christmas Story from Linda Swift

When Linda Swift asked me to do a cover for her new release, Single Status, neither of us remembered meeting before. But something about her name kept niggling at my mind, and after awhile the memory began to emerge.

In 1996 after the RWA conference in Dallas, we sat together in the airport when wave after wave of thunderstorms grounded us. After several hours, to our relief, we finally took off. Unfortunately, we came back in. Passengers de-boarded, mechanics tinkered with the engine, more thunderstorms arrived, and finally we left Dallas for real at 5:00 p.m. Too late for anyone's connections. I last saw Linda at the St. Louis airport, where I spent several more hours with the stranded Portland Gay Men's Choir, who sang most of their repertoire for other stranded passengers. We finally got into Portland at 1:30 a.m.

But Linda's card went into my Rolodex. And funny thing, she still had my card too. And I always wondered what happened to her. Now, I know. And I don't think we'll lose touch again.


THE GIFT

All of my family is musical except me. And it was after a performance of her husband's band at a casino in Tunica, that my daughter had an almost fatal accident. While standing on the sidewalk in the wee hours of morning as he loaded his equipment, she was run down by a casino employee, high on drugs, thrown onto the windshield of his car, which hit a wall and caught fire. She was helicoptered to a trauma hospital in Memphis with multiple injuries. Her dad and I arrived from Kentucky and after an all-day wait, she had hours of surgery. Our first miracle was that she lived.

We stayed in a motel for a month, taking turns with her husband, sitting at her bedside, so that she was never alone for a moment. When word spread that she was injured, fans of her band and her husband's flooded her room with flowers. There were so many and the scent was so strong that one physician remarked "Why, this is like a funeral home." A very inappropriate remark in my opinion!

Still too weak to travel to her home in Nashville, she was moved after a few weeks to a rehab center nearby. And when she was finally given permission to travel, my husband and I went ahead to prepare her condo for an invalid. Both bedrooms were upstairs and not wheelchair accessible so we had to buy a bed for the living room. Her dishwasher didn't work and neither did the stove oven. Remember, she and her husband traveled with their respective bands and domestic life did not have priority. But since I was responsible for cooking nutritious meals, I needed proper equipment.

After a couple of days of frantic shopping for appliances, a bed, and groceries, then a frenzy of cleaning as we had been warned of her wounds getting infected, we fell into bed for a few hours sleep before her homecoming.

Sometime after midnight, I was awakened by a loud noise like someone hitting a wall. I tried to ignore it but it only got louder. Muttering something unprintable, I staggered to the window and looked out. And there by the front steps was a lone figure doing something with wood and a hammer. At first, I couldn't figure it out, and then it dawned on me. A man was building a ramp over the concrete steps.

Something we had not even thought of!

I called my husband to wake up and join me. And together we determined that it was the young man next door. We had met him and his wife and young son when we came two days ago and had heard our daughter and husband speak of them before. They had come to Nashville from New York City because he wanted to be a musician. For the time being, they were both employed at the nearby mall, where he worked a late shift as a security officer. Since they had lived in a big city, they had no car and both walked the couple of miles to their jobs as they couldn't afford a car. My daughter and husband had loaned them their car at times for buying groceries and other necessities.

The night was freezing cold and the guy was bundled up in a jacket, sock cap, and gloves as he determinedly hammered away at those boards until he had the ramp finished. And as I stood there watching with tears in my eyes, I felt such gratitude for this simple gift of kindness. It was truly more beautiful than the roomful of flowers I had tended every day. And even more special because I knew it had been a financial sacrifice to buy the lumber as well as a difficult task to build it in the middle of this frigid night.

My daughter came home, and after a fourth surgery and many more weeks of intensive therapy, she was able to walk again. And the much-used ramp was finally taken down. Now only a few scars remain to remind her and us of that almost fatal night. And this is the second miracle.

The neighbor couple went back to New York City after a time because their family needed them there. And the hoped for career in music hasn't happened yet. But I remember them from time to time and make a wish that all their dreams may soon come true.

***

LINDA SWIFT is a native of Kentucky but calls many places home including Florida where she now lives with her husband, a power plant consultant and avid golfer. She is the sole member of a musical family--which includes her husband, son, daughter, and son-in-law--who neither sings nor plays. But she loves to dance!
A late bloomer, she attended college for years between being a wife and mother, then became a counselor, psychometrist, and teacher of physically and mentally challenged students in public education.
Linda began writing poetry at ten, has won numerous awards for poetry, articles, and short stories and has had a play produced on TV. Writing books has been her goal since completing a romance novel at sixteen. She is the author of two books by Kensington and has two e-books currently available from The Wild Rose Press, one of which is also available in print. Her current release is Single Status from Awe-Struck who will also publish her new holiday book in December and her first historical in early 2010.

You can find Linda at her website here: http://www.lindaswift.net/