The Snatcher Launches Today!

I am beyond excited to announce the release of The Snatcher, A Moonshine Murder Mystery! You won't want to miss the last in the series.

Buy The Snatcher today!

Parenting in the Pandemic: Episode 2, "The Doom of Zoom"

 If any of you have had the pleasure of meeting my eight-year-old, Elliot, you know that he is a very active boy. My dad likes to compare him to a 1950's boy. If he's not on his bike, he's got his bow and arrow trying to shoot turkeys from our deck. And yes, one time he thought perhaps he could chase away a bear with his bow and arrow. I reminded Braveheart that his dull-tipped arrows probably would just make the bear mad! And give his mother a heart attack!

This same little boy who loves the outdoors, finding mischief and experimenting also doesn't do so great with screens. I've read plenty of examples of how screens affect kids' brains (adults, too by the way), but with older brother, Ethan, I never saw dramatic changes in behavior. Elliot is a different story. The word screen zombie is a real word in our house that we try to avoid. Screen time for Elliot is short and a sweet treat.

So, you can imagine when schooling went remote what that was like for Elliot! Welcome to the doom of Zoom. 

Now, before I go any further with this blog, I want to make something very clear. Teachers, ALL teachers right now and seven months ago, well and forever actually, are amazing. I can not even fathom trying to teach a classroom of second graders. Remotely! Are you kidding me? Yet, that's exactly what our teachers were called to do. Not because they got some pay raise or bonus. I'm pretty sure teachers don't get those, yet they have been asked to accomplish the impossible. And now, those same teachers who rallied in the spring are teaching in-person, risking their lives for our children. They are teaching blended classrooms and remote classrooms. Many of them simultaneously. Have you ever been asked to go ahead and do three jobs AT THE SAME TIME? For the same pay? They are true heroes.

Back to Zoom. We knew pretty quickly that Zoom wasn't going to work for Elliot. We watched as the active boy turned morose, couldn't focus, was having toddler-like meltdowns. This, happening while both my husband and I are remoting into our jobs. A meltdown in the middle of a virtual court hearing is not a good idea!

Once upon a time in 2000, I had gone to college to earn a BA in English Education. No, not early childhood education. But I wasn't a complete dummy on the subject. We made a super hard decision. One that we are not alone in making as thousands of other families across the globe were in our exact situation. We unenrolled Elliot from public school. I jumped on and reviewed the State Standards for second grade and third grade, bought curriculum books and created a schedule. 

I would like to report that it was all sunshine and rainbows. I was the perfect teacher, Elliot the perfect student. But that would be a laughing lie. It was hard. Real hard. I'm still remoting into work, remember? So, trying to keep an eight-year-old on task while Zooming in to my own meetings was sometimes a nightmare. I hate to admit I think I had some of those toddler tantrums myself. And on more than one evening I was ready to quit my job.

But I didn't and something amazing started to happen. I realized that although I operate under a strict schedule, Elliot does not. I created a sticker chart with each subject he needed to complete. We tabbed the pages he needed to do, reviewed those pages together and I let him go. The rule? By the end of the day, all stickers on the chart equals that blessed thirty minutes of screen time. And it's not perfect. We both have good and bad days. He gets stuck, we work through it. But it's amazing how motivated he became to figure out his schoolwork when it was no longer my schedule, but his. I saw him taking ownership of his learning.

As May came to an end, we decided to just keep going with it. It would give him a head start, occupy his summer days and keep him from harassing too many of the wild turkeys. 

And for Ethan? He remoted in to Google Classrooms as an eighth grader. Being the techie kid that he is, he excelled in it. And thank goodness for that! He absolutely rocked it. 

As we rolled into summer, we had some hard decisions, based on the ever-changing facts of COVID. To remote or not to remote, that became the question.

Some hands-on science

Ethan completing a science experiment for school

The favorite class of the day: reading time on the hammock

Parenting in the Pandemic: Episode 1

 So I'm writing this at eleven p.m., which, let's face it has been the new two a.m. for a couple decades now. It could be a really bad idea. I may just delete the whole thing in the morning. But here I am, suffering from a mild flu shot vaccine reaction—yep that's me—and not able to sleep. I'm usually the up-at-five-a.m. person, so tomorrow should be very interesting. Don't judge me for typos.

 You might be wondering why I'm writing about parenting during the pandemic. Isn't this a book news site? Well, yes, yes it is, but let's remember it's two a.m. And like millions of parents out there, the pandemic and what it has done to our lives is always on my mind.

If I was smart, I would have started this episode months ago. Seven to be exact. But, let's be honest, I was just surviving seven months ago. And I'm pretty sure I would have lacked the perspective to see any humor in the situation at the time.

Our family is one of "those". You know, one day it was the last day of school before spring break where I was picking up my second grader from school, lugging home his prized school work (we had to keep it, his best comic strips were written in the margins, after all) and going to my eighth grader’s choir concert, and the next we turned into the crew on Gilligan's Island, where social interaction was a sweet dream and plotting and failing to get off the island our daily routine. Those were the days.

You see, I've got a super rare and super obnoxious auto-immune disease. It's about as predictable as a toddler. One minute everything is fine and then the milk spills. And on no, total melt down. And then, the milk can spill again, and everything is fine. So COVID posed a special risk to our household. 

You know that day back in March? Yah, the last day before spring break. That's the one. You know what I was doing? I was in my office, downloading software to remote in to work from home. I think I mentioned something about being prepared. And as the Finance and Operations Director, I was doing just that. I'm not sure if my coworkers thought I had lost my mind. I think I was scaring them a little, so I went ahead and download that software on their computers, too.

The brain wasn't turned on all the way, I hate to admit it, and only the part of me that was raised Seventh-Day Adventist (look it up, best survivalists on the planet) must have kicked in. All those years of tying knots, identifying edible plants, and making snow shelters was paying off. But I left everything in my office desk. I mean everything. Stamps, pens, chocolate (I really regretting this one later), the emergency kid supplies (I regretted this, too, more than you can know), and walked out the door. 

And for the first week, you know, it was almost exhilarating, like watching one of those zombie apocalypse movies. The world was going nuts, but we, in all our wisdom and toilet paper buying, were fine. I painted the office, we took hikes in the woods, and we ate our "survival" food, consisting of canned foods and macaroni (this is not, I repeat not what we eat). But we are Generation-X, the latchkey kids. Canned and boxed food. We got this. 

I'm not sure what my husband and I thought. That, like a bad movie, it would end, and the lights would flicker on. We would rub our eyes and look around disoriented and then march ourselves back into reality? It must have been, but by day five, the fun was over. News overload was served for breakfast, and the emergency fund at my office, serving our community, was activated. I plugged the kids into left-over "summer school" curriculum books (you know, the ones we always buy and the kids never use) and popped open my 2011, Windows 7 laptop, and we moved into the Twilight Zone. 

It wasn't Gilligan's Island anymore and the bad movie wasn't going to end. We weren't going to get our brains eaten by the COVID zombie, I was going to make sure of that, but the monsters under the bed were just starting to peak their heads out. The layoffs hadn't happened yet (it's spring break, remember), and moms (and dads, too)  across the globe hadn't yet realized that they were going to be logging in to work while simultaneously logging into their child's Zoom classroom. All with faulty internet (thank you, rural Colorado).

It was, as my class of 1999 high school motto stated: "It's not the end. It's not even the beginning of the end. It is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." -Winston Churchill

 

P.S. Help a starving artist, multi-job, homeschooling mom and check out my new release: www.esjameson.com

My little helper, painting the office
Spring Break, 2020

The Knock Over Book Launch AND Moonshine Murder Relaunch is Here!

I am beyond excited to announce the release of The Knock Over a Moonshine Murder mystery! Book launch video below with a link to the book launch page where you can sign up for E.S. Jameson Book News and receive a free digital bookmark.

For the next four days, the new edition of Moonshine Murder is FREE!

The Knock Over Book Launch Page

Having Fun Researching

I've been having fun researching for my new work-in-progress. Research is one of my favorite parts of writing historical fiction. It's so exciting to uncover a new piece of history and I want to share what I've learned with anyone who will listen. Not all of what I research makes its way into my writing. In fact, only a small percentage does. I decided I need to share some of these great pieces here.

The link below is to a Denver 7 News channel clip, captioned, "On the outside, the house may look like any other historic home in the north Denver neighborhood, but inside, the secrets of a gangster's paradise are finally revealed. Jaclyn Allen reports.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tp3NW5kQliQ 

If this is your first time back to this site in awhile, you are probably noticing some changes. Moonshine Murder is getting a new look, to be released next month along with the sequel, The Knock Over. Stay tuned for the launch date.

The Knock Over - A Sneak Peak for Big Picture High School

 Dear Big Picture High School Students,

As promised, here is a sneak peak of Chapter One of The Knock Over, a Moonshine Murder Sequel. I'm uploading this as an example of the process of writing: its many drafts, stages and faces. This is an early version, intended to demonstrate that.

I have thoroughly enjoyed being a part of your classroom this past month. Thank you!

The Knock Over

by

E.S. Jameson

Copyright 2019 E.S. Jameson

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved.

Flashlight Fiction

a division of

Paper Trail Publishing

Durango, CO 81301

Published and Printed in the U.S.A.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to papertrailpublishing.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. The characters and events in this ebook are fictional and any resemblance to persons, whether living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning to a computer disk, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without express permission in writing from the publisher.

  

Chapter One

 It wasn’t going to be an ordinary day. Rusty had plans. He felt them in his pocket now—not entirely round, sharp cut edges yet smooth. The gold cross, about the length of a half dollar, he ran his thumb and forefinger over its smooth surface.

Rusty jingled the necklace in his pocket and couldn’t help but think of her. The red garnets around her neck, her piercing blue eyes looking at him. It wasn’t a diamond ring he had in mind for the proposal. He wanted a matching ring to the garnet necklace, the one given to Lenora by their good friend, Rosa. The necklace that reminded her so of her mother’s. After work, he would take it to the jeweler, have a few of the garnets removed to make a ring, then restring the necklace. She rarely wore it—too special for that. But she often pulled it out of the top dresser drawer in her rented flat and looked at it. He had seen her do it, especially when homesick for her mamma or papa. It was his hope to complete the task before she knew it was missing. And it hadn’t been all that easy to sneak it out of her one-room flat. He had to make run back into the flat on their way out that morning for work with the excuse that he had left his cap on the table. He had, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

"What are you about, Rusty?" She had asked. He knew by the heat in his cheeks that his complexion matched his hair.

Avoiding her eyes, he shrugged. "Nothing to worry about, just a lost hat and misplaced memory." He gave her his most dashing smile, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other hand clenching the necklace in his pocket.

He couldn’t help but smile. Nah, it was a grin, and he didn’t care. He loved that lass. Everyone knew it.

So it was with that smile that he looked up from the teller table when the copper bell rang above the mahogany door of the Citizens State Bank. The green paneled walls and mahogany trim around the windows was intended to express the wealth and security of the bank in its traditional colors, but on a bright autumn day it took a few moments for one’s eyes to adjust to the customer entering through the front door.

“Good Morning. How can I help you folks?” Rusty asked, as he rearranged his ledger, allowing his eyes to turn the black specks in front of him into faces.

Customer interaction was his favorite part of the job. He missed that about running his moonshining business, the customers. It was worth it though. She was worth it. He brought his mind back to the present. He couldn’t daydream about her all day if he intended to keep this job and buy their way out of Silverton.

The smile dropped from his face as his eyes focused on the two men who had entered the lobby of the bank. One was quite tall, taller than Rusty and he was over six foot himself. The man pulled his white fedora from his head and black hair fell forward across his forehead. He slicked it back into place with his hand, his forefinger bearing a large gold ring with a symbol Rusty couldn’t quite make out across the room, but recognized as important nonetheless. He was wearing a brown felt jacket, a dark blue tie. His eyes were midnight black and beady, impassive, like staring into the eyes of an animal—carnal. There were no smiles in those eyes. One eyelid hung low, covering half his pupil, and he sported a thin mustache covering his upper lip. He wasn’t from around here, there was no doubt of that fact.

“Gentlemen,” Rusty said. He shot a glance behind his shoulder seeing if the bank president was sitting in his office. He knew he wasn’t there. He and his son never came in before ten. It was Rusty’s job to open the bank, make the coffee,  pull out cash from the safe in the back for the cash drawer, review the ledgers from the day before.

But the men made him nervous and he had had his share of experience when it came to shady characters.

The dark, tall man, turned to his partner, bushy eyebrows raised in an unanswered question. The other nodded his consent and Rusty’s attention was drawn to the man who had entered second. For the briefest moment, his heart jolted. His palms were suddenly sweaty and his button-up white shirt began to stick to the back of his broad shoulders.

The shorter man’s hair was drifting back along his hairline, but the auburn curls were apparent even after being pressed down from his felt cap. He wore a flannel shirt, tucked in to work trousers. Day laborer for the mill or mines. It was his eyes that were different enough from his, and he was stouter. Not a man to get into a brawl with. Neither of them were.

After the initial shock of the similarities, Rusty was sure it wasn’t him. But boy, it sure could have been. A relative. Sure enough, it had to be a relative.

“Hello Rusty,” the shorter man said as he came around in front of the tall man and sauntered up to the counter.

Rusty, behind the barred counter, still took a half step back as the tall man clicked the front door lock into place.

“Do I know you, sir?”

“Nope, but I know who you are, Rusty O’Donald.” The man pulled a toothpick from his pocket and began picking at his yellowed teeth.

Rusty tilted his head to the side to get a better view of the man by the door. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to unlock that door. This bank is open for business.”

The tall man’s response was a mere raspy whisper, but Rusty heard every word. “We got business with you, boy, that doesn’t need interruption.” It wasn’t a threat exactly, but it sure felt like one.

“You knew my brother,” the man at the counter said, flicking his toothpick toward the corner of the counter where the burnt orange ceramic ashtray sat. “Tony.”

Rusty’s eyes darted between the man at the door and the man at the counter. There was a ringing in his ears and his legs were tingling. Yes. He knew Tony. He wished he didn’t, but he did.

            “How’s Tony?” Rusty asked.

            “In a jam. You see, he owes a debt, but since you and that girl of Dominick’s had him thrown in the can, he is unable to fulfill his obligation.”

            “Well that’s a shame…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

            “Victor. And this,” he said pointing his finger behind his back, “is Joe.”

            “Well, Victor, I’m sorry to hear about Tony’s troubles, but they ain’t mine.”

            “That’s where you’re wrong.” Joe had come up behind Victor, standing a near foot taller than him, and leaned on the counter. “It is your problem. You see, Tony worked with your old partner, Dominick, right?” Joe studied the clock behind Rusty’s head, never once making direct eye contact. It should have been less nerve racking, but it wasn’t.

            Rusty nodded, and splayed his palms out flat on the counter in front of him. Sweat was soaking through the ledger, green lines smearing with the brown.

            “You see, Tony was going to buy that business from Dominick. He borrowed money from us to do the job.”

            “You know there isn’t any proof that I was involved at all in his arrest,” Rusty tried to keep his voice even. “Hell, Tony getting nailed put us all in jeopardy and lost us all our jobs, should I remind you of that, Victor?”

            “Maybe there isn’t proof of your involvement Rusty, but there is no denying that kid of Dominick’s was working with the feds, and now you and her are a hot item.”

            Rusty clamped his mouth shut. It just became a lot more dangerous in the room, a dynamite stick ready to be lit.

            Victor grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

            Rusty glanced up at Joe. “Who does he owe the money to? Who is ‘us’?”

            “Cosa Nostra.”

            Rusty’s ears began to ring. The room blurred. Cosa Nostra.

These were Trouble Boys. Mafia.

Rusty forced himself to watch the man. His lips moved and a funneled noise reached his ears. It took a moment for Rusty to realize it was the sound of Joe’s voice.

“Like I said to Victor, unfortunate event.” Joe pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a match and tossed the match in the ashtray next to the toothpick. “But the truth of the matter is that I loaned that money to Tony as a favor on behalf of the Carlino brothers up north.” Joe turned his attention from the clock he had been inspecting nearly the whole time and shot a hard look at Rusty. “You know who the Carlino brothers are, yes?”

Rusty nodded. Anybody who was anybody moonshining in the state of Colorado knew who the Carlino brothers were. Pete and Sam, the most notorious bootleggers in Colorado, as far as Rusty was concerned.  Although Joe Roma could be a contender. He wouldn’t of course confuse this Joe for that Joe. Roma was a pint-sized man. He was known for it. Roma was also known to be the giant of the bootlegging underworld in Denver. Truth is, Roma and the Carlinos brothers were the bootleggers in nearly all of the state. Sure a handful of small operations like his and Dominick’s existed, but that was west of the pass. Another time or place, he might have felt a thrill to be in the company of Carlino’s associates.

This man Joe, knowing the Carlino’s personally? Rusty wanted to doubt it. He wanted to believe that Joe was throwing around a name Rusty was sure to know to intimidate him. As if he needed more intimidation as he stood shaking and sweating locked inside the bank with two big Italian mobsters. But the story fit. And now that his mind was drifting to the Carlion’s, Joe did resemble Pete Carlino. Enough to be a cousin, he thought. Of course the Carlino’s were looking for their way into the Southwest part of the state. And it would have made sense why they wanted to knock-off Dominick—he was Tyrolean after all, an Austrian, home country enemy to the Italians, Piedmonts or Sicilians. It didn’t matter.

There was certainly a large amount of respect for the Carlino brothers. But there were equal or larger amount of caution.   

“Tony was our Durango and Silverton contact. I’m here on behalf of Pete. I owe him, said I would take a look into the situation for him.
Pete. He has a thing for explosions, dynamite and such. It’s a bit of an obsession for him, you could say. I’m telling you this so’s you understand that should we not come to an agreement, the underboss is coming in the month. We would hate to see something happen to that girl of Dominick’s.”

 Victor squared his felt cap on his head, readying to leave. “Something like what happened to Peter Dalla.”

Joe flicked his fedora back in place and pushed off the counter where he had been slouching. “Tony owes us $5,000. With interest, you owe Pete $5,500. You got a month.”

The men moved to the door.

“We’ll be checking in on things from time to time,” Joe said. “Make sure you have a plan. Would be a shame to see that air tight girl of Dominick’s messed up.”

Victor snapped the lock back and they existed. Rusty watched as they crossed down Greene Street and out of view.

Rusty’s throat clenched tight. He hands were still splayed across the desk, sticking to the ledger paper. There was a weight in his pocket and for a moment he forgot about the necklace. It seemed now so trivial and yet so center point at the same time. Lenora. Dominick’s daughter. The girl he had fallen in love with despite trying to keep her unaware of her father’s moonshining business.
And who the heck was Peter Dalla? It was meant as a threat from Victor, no doubt, but he didn’t know what it meant. Which made it all the more menacing.
The back door opened and the bank president, came in whistling and hitching up his britches over his large belly.

“Morning, Rusty.”

Rusty cleared his throat and re-stacked the papers on his desk. “Morning, Richard. Nice weekend?”

“Sure, sure, and you?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“Sir, you know of a Peter Dalla?”

Richard snapped his head up from his desk behind Rusty. “Peter Dalla! Why are you asking after that old story? Bad business. Bad business. Damn fools.”

“Who?” Rusty hesitated, uncertain if he wanted the answer.

 “Nothing you want to know about, son.”

The front door bell rang and Rusty whipped his head forward.

Lenora pushed through the doors, her auburn curls swept back into a bun, a few tendrils wisped around her high-set cheeks. She was smiling, and pulled a wrapped sandwich from behind her back.

“I would have thought you to have grabbed your sandwich when you went back in for your hat this morning. It was sitting right next to it.”

Rusty put on his best smile. “Thanks, doll.” 

Doing his best not to check out the window for the two men, he studied Lenora’s laughing eyes, a cobalt blue, reminding him of a lazy summer afternoon.

She plopped the cheese sandwich on the counter and leaned toward him, exactly where Victor had been slouching only moments earlier.

“I promised Sal I would help out with the supper shift. I probably won’t be home until after 10:00. I’m sure to have leftover pie with me though if you want to stop by tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds grand. That works out best for me anyways. Jimmy invited me out tonight.”

Lenora pushed from the counter and smiled. “Well, have a good evening then. We will see you in the morning.”

“Hello Mr. Torinto,” Lenora hollered and waved, as she stood on her tiptoes and peeked over Rusty’s head.”

“Well hello there, doll. I didn’t even hear you come in. Everything going good for you over at Sal’s? She treating you right?” Mr. Torinto had come from behind the counter and stood in the door frame.

“She’s great. Thank you for putting in a good word for me.”

Mr. Torinto waved her away. “Not at all, not at all. Anything from Dominick’s daughter.”

Lenora smiled. “Well, I best be heading over that direction. Have a good day.” Lenora waived and made for the door.

Rusty let out his breathe. He was just sure the men were going to come back in when Lenora was standing right there. He needed to get his head straight, figure out how to get out of this jam. He’d been in jams before, but this one was different. First thing he needed to do was get to the bottom of this Peter Dalla story.

 

The Gift of Writing

Grandma shared a gift, my great grandmother's school copy of Paradise Lost and her composition booklet. The novel is dated 1896, the composition booklet, 1913.

This gift is particularly special because it belonged to Martha Haldeman, the woman portrayed as Lenora on the cover of Moonshine Murder.

A writer herself, Martha wrote eloquently not only in English but also in Old German script, an extinct language. This woman, who I never met, has shared not just her image but her imagination and love of words, a trait she passed down to her daughter, Ruth--my grandma--and to me. I am thankful to Grandma for sharing.

A Sweet Ride

I was fifteen, earning my driver's permit when Daddy bought the Nissan. The deal was simple: I keep the truck as long as I maintain good grades. Gas was my responsibility and doable back when twenty bucks filled the tank.

(The Nissan right after Dad bought it. Notice the red paint job. This is before the fender bender in the school parking lot--not my fault--and the resulting new paint job compliments of Dad and Uncle Lance.)

I have many wonderful memories with that truck, most with my best friend, Erin Taveira Glenn by my side. We took that truck places in the mountains we probably shouldn't have. We lost a muffler and about washed the entire vehicle crossing what looked like a stream. Looking back on the experience now, I think it was more like a river!

I repaired and repaired again the Nissan, making is last for over half of my life as my first choice of transportation. It has traveled with me from Southern Colorado to Northern Colorado, across Central California, and back to Colorado. I've strapped dogs, friends (more than the legal capacity), and car seats in the cab. I have push started that truck more times than I could possibly remember, including an entire semester when my husband, Eric and I were too broke to fix the alternator. (If you are going to CSU, I can gladly share with you where to park on campus with enough slope to push start a vehicle.)

This last winter, we again dumped money into the Nissan, Eric scratching his head at how stubborn his wife can be in refusing to get a reliable vehicle. How could I part with something that has been with me over 16 years? We made a deal: The truck had to last for a full year to justify the most recent repairs. We shook on it.

It lasted three months. Right into the coldest part of the winter. With mixed emotions, we drove to the car lot and purchased my first vehicle since turning sixteen. And I love it. I love that it has air conditioning and heating. I love that it starts when I turn the ignition, and that I don't have to push it. It doesn't whine and cough in the cold. It is completely reliable. I feel safe loading up the kids, and safe on the slickest of roads. It doesn't have the odor of wet dog mixed with who-knows-what-kind of air fresheners and cleaning agents. No scars or dents.

But I found that early in the morning when I jumped into the new vehicle, I missed the smell of old vinyl and dust, and the curiosity if today I would be pushing the thing down the hill, or flooding the engine to get it going. Strange a person can miss those tasks.

What did I do with the Nissan? Well, I sold it on Ebay. And it was hard to let it go. But sitting in my driveway was doing neither of us any good. And it couldn't have gone to anyone better. A kid's dad bought it. It was just like the one he had owned, and he wanted to fix it up for his son. He loves it, and for that I'm glad.

It was a sweet ride, taking me through the adventures of adolescents and into adulthood. And the new vehicle? Well, my seven-year-old son, Ethan has dubbed it his sweet ride. We'll see.

(Saying goodbye to the Nissan. Yes, same truck, different paint job. That will happen when you've owned a vehicle for more than a decade.)

Moonshine Murder Takes a Field Trip

A local homeschool group studied Moonshine Murder using the free teaching guide accompanying the novel. Their end-of-unit reward and last day of school celebration was a Moonshine Murder Field Trip. I was blessed to be able to lead the group, and would like to share some of our adventures with you.

We had a packed agenda, starting at 9am in Silverton, Colorado. Each student was given an agenda with questions to answer throughout the day.

Our first stop of the day was the Old Hundred Gold Mine tour where we rode in ore carts deep into the same mine the main character, Lenora explored in the novel.

We then panned for gold before heading to the base of the mine--where the old mill was located--to enjoy a sack lunch.

This is a view of the Old Hundred boarding house located 2,000 feet above the mill and main mine entrance.

The next stop on the tour was the Grand Imperial Hotel located downtown Silverton. The photograph above is a view of a hidden tunnel leading from the Grand Imperial Hotel to Blaire Street, several blocks east. Men would walk through the tunnel to Blaire Street where brothels were legal. It was also used as a place to smuggle moonshine during Prohibition. We were very lucky to see this tunnel. They don't give tours and they don't advertise that it exists. We all smiled very nicely to receive this honor!

Here is a picture of the two homeschool gals, Kaleena and Alexx, wearing flapper dresses they made in home economics class (how cool is that)!

After our private tour to the hidden tunnel, the group made their way over the mountains back to Durango where we met at the swinging bridge. Yes, the same swinging bridge mentioned in the novel. Here the students answered their questions and received their awards.

Kaleena and Alexx each earned a signed copy of Sirens, another 1920's YA Fiction, written by Janet Fox. They were thrilled!

The last stop of the day was at the mural of Jack Dempsey boxing at the Gem Theatre. Alexx, pictured here, chose boxing as her research topic, and was extra excited to see this amazing painting.

The Moonshine Murder Field Trip was a wonderful experience. This group was amazing and what fantastic homeschool parents, Gayle Early and Melissa Hackett, for going above and beyond in educating these young students. I hope to lead many more trips in the future, so parents, teachers, and grandparents, plan your trip soon!

Interview with Award Winning Author, Leslee Breene

This month I'm featuring an amazing writer and a fellow Women Writing the West member, Leslee Breene. Leslee's recent release, Journey to Sand Castle, is a tale of love and redemption. Leslee will be giving away a free copy of her novel to one of my blog visitors today. Be sure to leave a comment to qualify! Please enjoy meeting another Colorado author!

First of all, thank you, Erin, for inviting me to be on your awesome blog!

Thank you, Leslee, for stopping by. What are you currently reading?

I just finished Jeannette Walls’, Half Broke Horses, a true life novel. Told in the first-person voice of Ms. Walls’ no-nonsense, resourceful, and compelling grandmother Lily Smith who survived Texas tornadoes, droughts, floods and the Great Depression. A great read!

What/who has influenced your writing?
The Rocky Mtn. Fiction Writers and Colorado Romance Writers were the first groups that provided conferences and critique. In earlier years, I was influenced by authors of short fiction/novellas such as Somerset Maugham, Ernest Hemingway, western writers Jessamyn West and Annie Dillard. Later, romance authors LaVyrle Spencer, Laura Kinsale and Maggie Osborne mesmerized me.


What do you do beside write?

I have a passion for western music and support events like the annual Colorado Cowboy Poetry Gathering (some poetry, lots of music). The Arvada Old Town Pickin’ Parlor hosts a monthly concert with a continuous list of outstanding western, blue grass and dixieland singers and musicians that I find irresistible.


Do places you visit pop up in your writing? How so?

During leisure time away from the computer, I enjoy scouting for book settings with my husband in the Colorado Rockies. Some memorable research sites are Leadville, Georgetown, the Colorado Sand Dunes, and Jackson Hole, Wyoming. And, yes, several of these historical settings have led to storylines, characters and published novels.

Here is a little bit about Leslee and her new release.



Leslee Breene, award-winning author of novel and short fiction, takes pride in being a Denver native. She lives beneath the Colorado Rockies with her husband and, hopefully soon, a beloved rescue canine.

Her newest release, JOURNEY TO SAND CASTLE (June 2013), is a contemporary inspirational romance set in the San Luis Valley next to the Sangre de Cristo mountains. "Leslee Breene confronts conflict, resistance, and prejudice...in a well-written story of love and redemption." ~ Heidi M.Thomas, WILLA Literary Award.

To read the first chapters go to: http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Sand-Castle-Leslee-Breene/dp/1484958977/ref.

Journey to Sand Castle Synopsis:
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Tess Cameron, a divorced teacher, becomes the unwitting guardian of a bi-racial orphan. She is compelled to take the little girl to the Colorado San Luis Valley to meet her grandfather. Estranged from the child’s missing mother, he is unaware of the granddaughter’s existence and doesn’t want her.
Grant Wilder, a widowed outfitter, offers Tess temporary employment on his ranch. This gives Tess a reason to stay in the area and continue with her reuniting efforts. But can Tess’s wandering spirit find the faith to accept permanent responsibility of the child? Can she open her heart to love again in this land of amazing beauty and haunting secrets?

Other works by Leslee:

STARLIGHT RESCUE, (2011- Treble Heart Books) a western romance, is available in soft cover through www.lesleebreene.com, and is set beneath the Wyoming Big Horn Mountains on an animal rescue ranch. It received an RWA PASIC Book of Your Heart Award in the contemporary, single-title category.

HEARTS ON THE WIND (2008 - Five Star), a Denver bestselling historical romance received an “A” review in the Rocky Mountain News. LEADVILLE LADY (2006 - Five Star) received the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers PEN Award. The RWA Valley Forge Chapter awarded second place to her debut novel, FOXFIRE .

Ms. Breene’s short fiction has been published in various magazines, won national awards, and finaled in the 2009, 2011 and 2012 Women Writing the West LAURA (Ingalls Wilder) competitions. http://womenwritingthewest.org/laurajournal.html.

Ms. Breene attended the University of Denver, received a Denver Fashion Group Scholarship, and graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology, New York City. For several years, she worked as a newspaper fashion illustrator in San Francisco.

She is an active member of RWA, Colorado Romance Writers, and Women Writing the West and is available for Denver/suburban area library and group speaking engagements. She welcomes visitors at her website: www.lesleebreene.com and www.facebook.com.

And the Winner of the Slang Word Scavenger Hunt is.....

And the winner of the slang word scavenger hunt is....

Eunice Boeve! Congratulations. Ok, here are her definitions:


1. Moonshine
2. Coffin Varnish
3. Daddy
4. Screwy
5. Flat Tire
6. Speakeasy
7. Prohie
8. Dumb Dora
9. Baloney
10. Jalopy
11. Bearcat


1. smuggled or illicitly distilled liquor
2. inferior liquor
3. the best moonshine also known as catdaddy. also a girl's boyfriend, especially if rich
4. Crazy was used to tell a person to leave, you're screwy
5. a bore
6. a bar tha tsells illigal liquor
7. a guy on probationary status, or a new guy
8. a foolish, scatterbrained, or stupid woman
9. nonsense
10. a dumpy old car and old heap
11. one who fights or acts with force a firey girl also lesser name for a panda


Eunice has won a free signed copy of Moonshine Murder! Thank you to all the participants. Visit my website for your own signed copy.

Moonshine Murder Slang Word Scavenger Hunt

During the 1920's, many people used coded words to represent illegal activities. Out of this new slang words were created.

Last week I did a slang word scavenger hunt with a classroom using my novel, Moonshine Murder. The students had a list of words they had to define based on the context of the sentence. We had so much fun with the activity, that I decided to share it here.

So here's the rules: Define the words listed below using the comment section of the blog. If you get them all correct, then your name will go in the drawing for a free autographed copy of Moonshine Murder. Be sure to share this link with any young adults you may know. This is a lot of fun and great education as well! The contest will stay open a full week, winner to be announced the following Wednesday, May 29th, during my usual post.

Good luck and have fun!

1. Moonshine
2. Coffin Varnish
3. Daddy
4. Screwy
5. Flat Tire
6. Speakeasy
7. Prohie
8. Dumb Dora
9. Baloney
10. Jalopy
11. Bearcat


Like the activity? View my website for the teacher / parent guide for Moonshine Murder. Tons of great activities for young adults!

Mancos Middle School Flash Fiction: Young Writers in Training

The authors: Caleb Yoder, Zack Hunter, and Courtney Firestone


Today, I'm sharing an exciting new post. In March I was fortunate enough to visit our local Middle School classroom in Mancos, Colorado. Ms. Farrar's publications class participated in a "share story" where students in groups of three wrote a portion of a flash fiction story. One wrote the beginning, another picked up the middle, and the third student scribed the resolution.

The winning story was promised to be published here and the authors each received a free copy of my novel, Moonshine Murder.

There were some talented young writers, and choosing the winning story was difficult. I am proud to present the winning story today. Enjoy.



FACING FEARS
Written by: Caleb Yoder, Zack Hunter, and Courtney Firestone

It was a misty day in the rain forest, and Tancredo was out chopping wood.
WHAP. The axe came down and splintered the log.
WHAP, again Tancredo chopped the wood, but on the third time, the axe slid through his cold fingers, hit the ground and disappeared.

Tancredo, knowing he would get in trouble if he didn’t retrieve the axe, climbed through the whole left by the axe. He got his footing and began to scale the wall. He was startled by a loud thud at the bottom of the pit. Tancredo thought to himself, that was the axe. How was he to climb that far?

He thought it over then climbed out. His father had ropes in the shed he could use to repel to the bottom. Tancredo tied the rope to his waist, and the other side to a tree, and began to lower himself down the pit.

Tancredo was weary as he lowered himself and surprised at how far he had gone down without touching the bottom. He had to repeatedly untie the ropes, lowering himself down more each time. When he finally did reach the bottom he could just barely touch the bottom with his feet.

Tancredo started to feel around the dark, deep hole. He tripped over something hard, but before he could pick it up, he heard a soft crunch. Tancredo knew that sound, but couldn’t remember from where. He felt what he stepped on and recognized the paper soft crackle in his hands. It was a snake skin, shed off the body, and it was big.

Tancredo heard the snake slither and covered his mouth. He couldn’t move, stuck by fear and the memory of a snake biting his brother. He tried to climb up the slope but couldn’t find a good place to grip.

At last he knew what to do. He had to face his fears. It was the only way. He grabbed the axe and chopped off the snake’s head.
As he climbed up the slope all the way to the surface, he knew that he no longer feared the snake.

Writing Inspirations

I checked on the bees today. The spring weather has had me itching for the smell of cut green grass and the zinging of bees.

As I popped the cover to my hive I ached with a great yearning for Granddaddy to be by my side. This was his hive and his knowledge. He gave this freely and with no strings attached. I smiled to myself as I imagined his smirk behind the bee veil as he told the story of the rogue bee caught in his suit.

I pulled out the first frame and checked the bees, greeting them as friends after a long absence. They scurried across the comb, protecting their queen and their honey stores.

As I placed the cover back on the hive body and began my treck from the bee yard, I couldn't help but think of inspiration.


(Another inspiration, my son Ethan playing beekeeper in my suit)


Most aspects of writing are earned from hard work--inspiration is a gift. This gift is what makes each writer genuine. No other person will experience life the same. Some inspirations come in the form of places, or experiences, or individuals.

Granddaddy was a source of inspiration in his love of books, his knowledge of the world around him, and kindness in the grip of his embrace.


(My Granddaddy, Walter Tycksen, and me getting ready to check the bees)

He shared much of his life with me. Including the whisper of a legend that is molding into my next novel.

What or who is your inspiration?

Extra Extra Read All About It!

Copyright Center of Southwest Studies,Fort Lewis College

In researching Moonshine Murder, I ran across some fantastic articles in the Durango Evening Herald. For the next couple posts, I would like to share the best quotes and photography. Some are quite comical.


UNDER ADVISEMENT
This morning, John Contoleon was arraigned before Judge Draper on the charge of a violation of the liquor laws. He was defended by Attorney Barry Sullivan while the case was prosecuted by Deputy District Attorney Ja. Noland, Jr., assisted by D.A. W. Bruce
Jacobson. The officers are said to have found about a pint and a half of liquor secreted in the water reservoir of the toilet. Contoleon denied the violation. After the evidence had been
introduced Judge Draper announced that he would take the case
under advisement and would render his decision tomorrow morning.
Durango Evening Herald
February 18, 1925


DEFENDANT ACQUITTED
Attorney Barry Sullivan scored a victory in Judge Draper’s court this morning when his client John Contoleon was acquitted of the charge of having violated the liquor laws.
Durango Evening Herald
February 19, 1925

The Women's Temperance Movement and Prohibition

Nineteenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution: Section 1. The right of the citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

The temperance movement, beginning in 1893, was greatly influenced by some women who believed strongly in Prohibition. One such woman was Carrie Nation. She was married to an alcoholic and left him. Believing she was given a vision, she destroyed many saloons with an ax. The prohibition law was passed by Congress in December 1917. Women didn’t have the right to vote for two more years, though many claimed women greatly influenced the prohibition law. Slowly, the nation realized the injustice against women in denying them the right to vote. The Nineteenth Amendment was passed in 1920--too late to vote for the Eighteenth Amendment, but early enough to vote for the next President, Hubert Hoover, who was for Prohibition.



The “Ladies of Logan” sing hymns in front of a bar in support of the temperance movement.
Copyright State Historical Society of Wisconsin

Interview with Erin S. Gray: MOONSHINE MURDER, a Novel Set in 1925

Stop by Through The Wardrobe for an interview by Janet Fox, fellow Women Writing the West member and WILLA Literary Award Finalist.


Interview with Erin S. Gray: MOONSHINE MURDER, a Novel Set in 1925.

Sirens: Mobsters, Molls, and More

This month I'm featuring an amazing writer and a fellow Women Writing the West member, Janet Fox. Janet's recent release, Sirens, takes place in New York, 1925. Earlier this month, I quoted a piece from her book referring to 1920's actress, Clara Bow.




Josephine Winter, seventeen, is sent to live with relatives in New York City after her bootlegging father receives a threat, but bookish Jo harbors her own secrets. She finds friendship with lively Louise O’Keefe and romance with sweet jazz musician Charlie. But haunted by the spirit of her missing brother, Jo uncovers a nest of family lies that threaten everyone she loves, and Lou, in the thrall of the dangerous, seductive gangster Daniel Connor, is both Jo’s best friend and potential enemy. As Jo unlocks dark mysteries and Lou’s eyes are opened, the girls’ treacherous paths intertwine. Jo and Lou together will have to stand up to Connor in order to find their hearts and hang onto their souls in the “decade of decadence.”

Janet, congratulations on your novel! Tell us where the idea and inspiration came for this book.

Thanks so much, Erin!

SIRENS is a result of my response to a request from my publisher to set a novel in the 1920s. I don’t always say “yes”, but this time it was easy – I’ve always been fascinated by the Roaring Twenties and was anxious to research.

When I start a new novel I try to look for some twist – something different – that will anchor my plot, and the real inspiration for this story came one evening as I was listening to a radio discussion about the magician Howard Thurston and the Spiritualism movement of the 20s. I’m drawn to questions about the unknown, and that seemed like a perfect way to explore something richer about what went on during the 20s, something other than gangsters and Prohibition and flappers.

Why did you decide to write for young adult readers?

Call it a case of arrested development: my mindset resides in those years. These are the books I like reading, this is the age group I feel most aligned with. I remember all too vividly what it felt like to sit alone at the lunch table, or to suffer a broken heart. So I love writing about kids feeling the same things (even in a different era) because, maybe, it’s my way of changing my own past, rewriting my personal history.

How much of the book is realistic?

Well, none of it in the sense that nothing is based on history except the peripheral things like Thurston and the Algonquin Round Table and of course the city of New York. But my characters, including the gangster Danny Connor, are entirely fictitious. But plausible.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I’ve been a writer since 3rd grade! Seriously, my first poem was published in my hometown newspaper when I was in 3rd grade, and that did it for me. Ever since I’ve made it my goal to write and publish.

Who/what motivates you to write?

It’s kind of like breathing for me. I can’t live without writing. Or maybe it’s like exercising – you know when you haven’t exercised for a few days and you begin to feel like a schlump, all logy and tired and crabby? That’s how I feel when I don’t write. Like a part of me is missing. I have to go into that mindless and vast space or I would just wither up and die.

Are there any writers (living or dead) that have influenced you?

Almost too many to mention! Every time I pick up something new I’m influenced. I love reading new work and I try to keep current. Suzanne Collins, MT Anderson, Lauren Oliver, Libba Bray...I could make a very long list. I love reading literary, high quality writing, and I favor either historical or fantasy.

What do you find particularly challenging in writing?

If I don’t have a good idea where my plot is going from the beginning I have a much harder time of it. Plotting is my weakness. I’m a pantser, and I like to follow my instincts as I write. So I need to have at least an idea where I’ll end up – a final scene that wraps it all up. Then I can drive for that scene.

But without that point in my line of sight, it can be a real struggle. I’ve read every plotting craft book on the market.

Do you have advice for beginning writers?

Be persistent, and keep working at the craft. Read constantly. Know that you will feel like your work is total bunk, but keep going and believe in your vision. And always write from the heart.

Are you working on another project?

Several! At the moment I have a YA science fiction project going, and two middle grade fantasies. Someone where down the road I have an idea for one more historical YA, but I want to stretch and try some new things at the moment.

Where is the book available?

Everywhere. (Publisher: Speak/Penguin Group, 2012, ISBN 978-0-14-242430-8)


Janet Fox is the author of award-winning books for children and young adults. FAITHFUL (Speak/Penguin Young Readers 2010), set in Yellowstone National Park in 1904, is a YALSA Best Fiction for YA nominee and an Amelia Bloomer List pick, 2011. FORGIVEN (Speak 2011), set in 1906 San Francisco during the great earthquake, is a Junior Library Guild selection 2011, and a 2012 WILLA Literary Awards Finalist. Her most recent novel, SIRENS (Speak 2012), is set in 1925 New York and is told from alternating points of view of two girls who must confront a gangster and uncover dark secrets. Janet is a former high school English teacher and received her MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults in 2010 (Vermont College of Fine Arts). Janet lives in Bozeman, Montana but you can also find her at www.janetsfox.com

Clara Bow: A 1920's Actress

In the 1920's going to the movies was the thing to do. Approximately half the U.S. population attended movies weekly. And one of the most famous 1920's actresses was Clara Bow, who starred in mostly silent films.

Born in the slums of New York and rising to stardom, Bow became the idea of the flapper during the roaring twenties. It was her spunky spirit and her willingness to defy convention that gave her this title.

Copyright MovieGoods

With a star cast including Clara Bow, a silent movie filmed in the southwest corner of Colorado certainly drew attention as is demonstrated in this article of the 1925 Durango Evening Herald:

PICTURE MADE AT DOLORES TO BE SEEN THERE

The “Scarlet West” the picture which was made at Dolores, Colo., was originally called the “Pony Express” or “The birth of the West” but was changed to “The Scarlet West” by the First National, one of the largest distributors in the world. The picture depicts the pioneer days of ’59 and ’61 and was sponsored and financed by the Colorado Manufacturers and Merchants association. This stupendous and dramatic film with scenes that vividly portray early western life was shown recently to capacity attendance at the Colorado theatre in Denver, Colorado Springs, Pueblo, Salt Lake City, Ogden and other cities have also contracted for this film. It is understood that it will be shown in Durango in the near future.

Dolores was selected as the ideal location for the production of such a picture and Mr. Carroll the producer was successful in securing an all star cast from Hollywood to take leading parts in “what we believe to be on of the greatest outdoor moving pictures ever filmed.” Notable amongst these actors and actresses are Robert Frazer, Clara Bow, Robert Edeson, Walter McGrail, Helen Ferguson, Gaston Glass, Johnny Walker, Ruth Stonehouse, Martha Francis and Florence Crawford. Several well known San Juan basin residents are also shown in the picture.

Durango Evening Herald
Sat. August 15, 1925


With news like this, I knew I needed to include a little bit of Clara Bow in my 1925 Historical Fiction, Moonshine Murder. Below is a scene from the novel:

Lenora glanced back. Several feet away, Rusty watched.
“Come on.” The officer prodded her in the back.
She swiveled around and tramped along beside him to his idling car and stepped onto the running board, then into the leather backseat. The officer cranked the gears and they drove off.
“I’m with Mr. Strickson,” she said.
“Sure, and I’m dating Clara Bow.” He slapped his chubby hand on the steering wheel.
Lenora tugged against her handcuffs. If she could just reach the door handle, maybe she could jump.
“People have died bailing out of moving vehicles.” The officer studied her in the rearview mirror.
“Better than your company.” She glared at the back of his balding head.
The officer snorted. Lenora slouched back in the seat.

Moonshine Murder isn't the only novel that cites Clara Bow. Janet Fox, in her newly released Young Adult Historical Fiction novel, Sirens, often makes references of the famous Clara Bow. Jo Winter, the main character in Sirens, "could've been a star. Another Clara Bow. She had the looks for it. And the smarts."

To learn more about Moonshine Murder visit my website. And come back and visit in a couple weeks to learn more about Janet Fox, author of Sirens.

Writing Moonshine Murder

This Friday, January 11, I will be a guest blogger over at a fellow Women Writing the West member's page. Heidi Thomas is published by Treble Heart Books as well, and won the WILLA Literary Award for her YA novel, Follow the Dream.

Stop by and find out a little bit more about Moonshine Murder and my writing routine.

http://heidiwriter.wordpress.com/