Once Upon An Epiphany
- Elizabeth Clements
Writers are often
inspired by what’s around them, be it scenery, a person, an event, a song, or
even a movie. That would definitely describe my writing inspirations, be it for
fiction or poetry.
For some reason
last night I wanted to watch something different from my usual fare of westerns
or crime/action movies. I wanted to get lost in another world, and there’s none
better (for me) than the magic of Kate and Leopold, a delightful, romantic time
travel that bespoke of a slower, gentler time:1876 New York vs New York 2001.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FeyhlLZYrg
Time travels are
so much fun, especially when the past leaps into the future and the time
traveler is gobsmacked (I just love that word) by all sorts of modern
technology. Leopold is catapulted into an unfamiliar world of televisions, telephones,
and microwave ovens. Going from the present to the past can just as easily create
all kinds of perils when the traveler brings unfamiliar things along, such as antibiotics whose miraculous
healing powers can brand the person as a witch or warlock. In those suspicious medieval
times, people often reasoned with fear rather than logic and miracles were due
to hocus pocus and witchcraft. I would love to see some of Sandra Hill’s Viking
time travels made into movies. Her books are a hoot to read. I have one
anecdote that involves reading her book, Frankly, My Dear while snuggling up
with my cat—but that’s a story for another time.
Kate and Leopold has
a special place in my heart and his name is Hugh Jackman. Hugh…er, Leopold,
darn, I mean Josh—is tall, dark and handsome, carries himself with elegance and
grace, and has a delightful accent (you can take the man out of Australia but
you can’t take Australia out of the man)…but I digress.
You see, back
about sixteen or so years ago I was finishing writing Beneath A Desperado Moon, the third book of my
western trilogy set in 1899 western Canada. I loved my Josh, but I couldn’t
really “see” him. He was just a handsome, elegant figment of my imagination—until
I had an epiphany half-way through that delightful time-travel movie called Kate and
Leopold.
At the time, my Josh
was kinda like a paint-by-number outline waiting for the right colors to
truly bring him to life. I knew Josh’s history, that he’s the second son of a long
line of wealthy English dukes. He had no desire to become a cleric nor join a
regiment, so in 1889 he opted to board a ship bound for Canada and became a “remittance
man” like so many of the noblemen who had fled to the colonies. Yet Josh wasn’t
content to sit idly and indulge in the indolent entertainment of most of the ex-pats
while he waited for his monthly “remittance” from his family back in England. He
loved his new-found freedom from pomp and ceremony and over the next ten years eagerly
explored all that the Canadian and American West had to offer. His excellent
horsemanship won him the notice of a retired U.S. marshal in Montana who
invited him to be a guest on his ranch. Through that friendship he also became
friends with two U.S. marshals: Chase Reynolds and Mike Sutton.
When I wrote Chase’s
story, Beneath A Horse Thief Moon was a stand-alone until his friends arrived.
Mike immediately charmed me with his humor, while Josh was a bit of an enigma—an
elegant, handsome, reserved man who didn’t
say much but his green eyes missed nothing.
Mike secretly yearned
to have a life like Chase, so he whispered in my ear to find him a love like
that. Not to be outdone, Josh brushed my hair back and murmured the same
request in my other ear. What was a poor girl to do when the English rogue entreated
with such potent charm? No wonder Molly didn’t stand a chance.
Months later I happened
upon the movie, Kate and Leopold and at some point I realized Leopold was the
crayons to color my Josh—fastidious, perfect posture, perfect manners, elegance
with knife and fork and ever the gentleman despite the circumstances that currently
directed his life. At last I really “saw” Josh. Western life had softened the
sharp edges of proper English society but he never strayed from the path of
human decency and kindness. Isn’t it wonderful when a writer has such an
epiphany!
That happened to
me one other time in the mid-80s. I was writing my third contemporary romance
in which my heroine, Samantha, was a singer and the hero was a pianist…until I
had an amazing epiphany while watching The Johnny Carson Show. I wasn’t paying
close attention when Johnny introduced a singer who was making his first
appearance on national television. I think in those first few moments of
hearing him sing, it brought home the realization that a song sung beautifully
in a foreign language needs no interpreter to make one appreciate and understand
what a God-given talent is saying. I had chills. I remember my hubby looking
confused when I excitedly exclaimed, “That’s him. That’s my __ (whatever name I’d
given to my hero at the time and who I ruthlessly kicked to the curb). I remember
silently willing Mr. Carson to repeat the singer’s name, to no avail. And there
was no repeat button let alone a tv remote control back in the 80s. That remote
was two feet pushing one out of the chair to manually change the volume or
channel.
Then, just like
with Leopold, I “saw” my fictional hero as I watched that singer steal
into my heart. Two weeks later, he unexpectedly reappeared on Johnny’s show. Luckily,
we tuned in nightly to watch. Apparently, I wasn’t the only person blown away
by the Spanish crooner. Johnny said the switchboard lit up after the show with
hundreds of callers who wanted to know more about this amazing Spanish singer and
to bring him back. It was a first, back in the day, for an “unknown” to be
asked for a repeat engagement and in two weeks. And finally, I knew his name as
I watched mesmerized… again. Have you guessed his name by now? Julio Iglesias.
Needless to say,
my original hero was gone, so gone that to this day I don’t even remember his
name. Julius had taken over. Well, the funny thing about choosing that name was
that half the time when I was talking to someone about my book, I was saying
Julio instead of Julius. The names were just too similar. So, tired of
correcting myself, I changed Julius to Raphael, a name I’ve always loved. The
other funny thing about this anecdote is that I created a history for Raphael.
Pure imagination, but here’s the kicker. A few years later I found a small
little soft-cover biography of Julio and was blown away by how closely my
imagination had created a similar background for Raphael without me knowing a
single thing about Julio’s life. Talk about having a cosmic connection. That third
book is finished, but is collecting dust somewhere in a closet or box in the
basement. I called it Out Of Control and perhaps one day I’ll find it, update
it and get it published. Stranger things could happen, eh?
Speaking of that
book, it actually became a pivotal point in my writing as it brought about
another epiphany, but this time it wasn’t me who had the aha moment. Shortly after my
first book was rejected by Harlequin in 1983, Alberta Culture offered a
week-long writers retreat. The romance workshop category was conducted by Judith
Duncan who wrote Superromances for Harlequin. She saw something in my writing that gave me
hope. Months later, after I’d sent her several chapters of my latest story, we
were discussing Samantha and Raphael over the phone when she suddenly let out a
gasp and went silent. Even after all these years I still remember the amazement
in her voice from her epiphany as she described two scenarios. “Imagine
Samantha in a long green gown with jewels in her hair, singing on a concert
stage…or imagine Samantha in a white pant suit flagging down a taxi in New York…which
heroine would you choose to write about?” There was no hesitation on my part:
the historical heroine. In her infinite wisdom, she had suddenly realized my
writing style was more suited for historical romance.
However, that
story was so entrenched in my mind as a contemporary that I knew I couldn’t
turn it into an historical. So, when I returned from a great vacation in New
Brunswick in 1987, I’d come up with a new story, I phoned Judith and told her
about it and she said “I hope it’s an historical.” It wasn’t, but I quickly realized
my Rachel could just as easily be traveling East on the train in the 1880s instead
of driving a white convertible in the 1990s, and it became my first historical…also collecting dust somewhere.
By the way, since
the mid-80s, Julio became my favorite singer and remains #1 to this day. I
think he’s #1 with a lot of other fans, too. Besides his incredible voice, I
have always loved his humility. And his son, Enrique, ain’t bad, either
<grin>.
So, there you have
a little glimpse into my heart and mind and what makes me tick as a writer. After
my initial rejection in 1983, fear of failure, as in having my manuscript
rejected, kept me from submitting to an editor for a dozen years, despite
Judith’s encouragement. In 2004 Beneath A Horse Thief Moon won the Readers
Choice Award at a romance writers conference in Calgary. The editor I met there
blew me away by asking for both books (I
had hoped she’d ask for three chapters). Months passed; my hopes soared. And crashed
when I received “the” letter in 2005. It was a wonderful rejection letter. At
the same time, my mother was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and my writing
went on the back burner again and stayed there long after my mother’s passing.
Then in 2017 a
dear on-line friend I’d never met urged me to submit to Prairie Rose
Publications and I promised I would. My conscience wouldn’t let me procrastinate
because I believe in keeping promises. So eternal thanks to Judith Duncan for
her encouragement, Jacquie Rogers for her “prodding” and to my editor, Cheryl
Moss Pierson for publishing my stories. And to writers reading this blog if you haven't become cross-eyed or gone to sleep over this long post—never give
up on your dreams.
Josh’s story,
Beneath A Desperado Moon, will be published some time this year. In the
meantime, here’s a little excerpt when we first meet him in Beneath A Horse
Thief Moon.
“Ma’am, is this man bothering you?”
a deep male voice drawled.
Sara jumped.
Chase reached for his Colts.
“Forgotten us already, have you,
Chase?”
Thank God! Chase whooped and leaped off the porch.
“What's to remember, Josh?”
Managing his startled horse, Joshua
Hunter laughed, his teeth white against his black mustache. He was dressed in
solid black from his Stetson to his dusty boots. Behind him on a black stallion,
grinning broadly, was a golden bear of a man in a brightly striped Mexican
poncho.
“A fox in a hen house makes more
noise than you two. About time you got here.”
Sara never moved, just stared. “You
know these men?”
“Sure do. Friends of mine from
Montana.”
“What are they doing here?”
“I asked them to come.”
“Why?”
“Because you need protection,
Sara.”
“I can't afford to pay two men.”
“I can.”
“The last time I checked this was
still my ranch.”
“Only as long as you can hang onto
it!”
“Woman trouble?” Josh said, his
voice smooth as cream. “Need some help?”
“Nothing I can't handle.” Chase
shot Josh a warning look. “Keep your paws to yourself, Josh. That goes for Mutt
back there, too.”
Laughing, Josh held up his hands.
“Whatever you say, Chase. You are the boss.” He made no effort to hide the
amusement in his green eyes or from his voice.
“I don't want anything to do with
any of you!” Sara snapped.
“Sara doesn't mean to be rude.
She's just been through a rough time fending off outlaws and cattle rustlers.”
“Does that include fendin’ you off,
too?” the bear of a man said, barely controlling his mirth.
“That is all right, ma’am,” Josh cut
in. “No offense taken.” Dismounting, he removed his Stetson, revealing rumpled
black hair, and stuck out his free hand. He smiled when Sara hesitantly shook
it. “I am Joshua Hunter. My friends call me Josh. And this big galoot behind me
is Michael J. Sutton. Everyone calls him Mike…amongst other things.”
Mike whipped off his brown hat,
revealing a long rope of wavy golden hair tied back in a tail. He leaned down
from his horse and swallowed up Sara's small hand in his big one and in a voice
that rumbled like distant thunder, said, “I'm Mike, Miz Sara. And you can call
me anythin' you want just as long as you call me for supper.” His huge grin
could swallow Texas.
Sara laughed, surprised that she
liked Mike instantly and was not intimidated by his size.”
“Can you forget about your gut for
once?” Josh teased.
Mike grinned. “I try, but it keeps growlin' at me.” The blond giant dismounted and stood a head taller than his
friends.
Sara looked up, a long way up. “Oh,
my, your Mama must have fed you real good.”
“Yup, she surely did, and twice on
Sundays.”
Everyone laughed.
February 14 is Valentine’s Day, the holiday when lovers express their affection with greetings and gifts. Are you ready to tell your sweetie just how you feel?
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