Please welcome G.S. Boatman author of One April After the War
G.S. Boarman will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
One April After the War
by G.S. Boarman
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GENRE: Historical Fiction
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INTERVIEW:
1. What or who inspired you to start writing?
There were two teachers – one in grade school and one college – and an elderly neighbor, who encouraged me to write, but it was years before an idea developed that almost demanded that I write. My seventh and eighth grade literature teacher once bluntly said, “You should write.” She was a great lady, who taught all my brothers and sisters, who came to our weddings and Christmas parties and to the funerals as well. It was after I wrote a brother’s obituary that she made that suggestion. Our neighbor who lived across the street from my childhood home moved to Florida and we began to correspond. I wrote an unusually long letter once and she wrote back, almost accusingly, “Your mother says you have flowers everywhere in your yard. Now let’s see you grow some words.” She, by the way, was a professor of sociology at UofL, so I took her opinions and comments very seriously. In college, I took a creative writing course, solely as a break from the heavier literature, history, and theology courses. After one assignment was given, the professor pulled me aside and said that he expected me to write more than the 3-page assignment, because more was expected of me. I suspect he knew I was taking the course for an easy A, but he wanted to let me know that he would not allow that.
2. What elements are necessary components for this genre?
The elements for historical fiction are, in order of importance for myself: character, conflict, plot, theme, dialogue, setting, and world building. I think that what makes any novel or piece of writing truly interesting is what concerns us all: where do I belong, how do I fit in, what is my purpose; to use the name of a course I once took, Ultimate Questions. The rest, for me is window dressing, and it is how well you do the window dressing is what invites the reader in, but if there is little behind the window, they won’t stay. There was a coffee shop in Colonial Williamsburg that was resurrected on the spot of the original coffee shop in the historical town. My younger daughter and I were so excited to go there. We thought we could sit at a table and enjoy a coffee and watch the tourists walk up and down Duke of Gloucester Street on their way to or from the old Capitol. It was a beautiful exterior, full of colonial charm, but when we entered, we found that it was not a working coffee shop, but a museum where we were treated to a little tutorial about colonial coffee shops and then the offer to sip coffee as it would have been made back in the day. It was fact-filled and the young woman who hosted us was dressed appropriately for the 1700s and thankfully did not pepper her speech with ‘like’ and ‘you know’, but it was a dry experience. There was no fault to be attached to Colonial Williamsburg or the young lady, but it did not meet our expectations. That is how I view historical fiction that is dead-on with historical facts and fashions and even vocabulary, but if there is no universal, fundamental crisis of the character, it doesn’t appeal.
3. How did you come up with your idea for your novel?
There were three separate events, occurring years apart, that eventually coalesced into the idea for a book, which then developed into a series of books. They are, in chronological order:
1. My mother told me long ago, before she passed, that she had bought a book that traced the ancestry of our family. I was indeed able to trace our family history through my father’s mother. As I got closer to our time, I noticed that there were a lot of Mary’s in each family; often several sisters were named Mary and apparently “went” by their middle names. One such Mary stood out to me. She was one of my paternal grandmother’s cousins, with several sisters named Mary, but this Mary, whose middle name I will withhold for the time being, had noted off to the side “Lally.” I thought that was the sweetest nickname I’d ever heard. I decided then and there, that if I ever wrote a book, my character would be Lally. (Those of you of a certain age may be able to guess her middle name, the diminutive of which is Lally.)
2. My older daughter has endured a kind of cascade of emotional/behavioral challenges, beginning almost from day One. Severe separation anxiety lasted well into her teens; the problem was so severe, she would vomit and cry if I had to leave her. She did not sleep through the night until she was 11 years old. But the real problems began in third grade when she suddenly had trouble with schoolwork, where before she had shone. The next year I began home-schooling her and her younger sister. She is incredibly smart – plays the piano by ear, has dabbled with the violin and guitar, can draw with the same accuracy as a camera takes a picture, writes, and has taken up painting. But getting her to do her homework was like pulling teeth; she just could not focus to do it. Finally, at age 17, she was diagnosed with ADD. By this time, she was just done with doctors and counsellors and perceived failures, and she just broke down one day and asked why this happened to her. Among other things, I said to think of the children whose parents could not afford the testing or the medication or even had the resources to research the problem. Then I said, “Think about the children who had this problem before anyone had a name for it.” It made me research the history of ADD.
3. My younger daughter asked me what the Secret Service did. I am ashamed to say that I knew nothing more than that they protected the President. It made me research the Secret Service, and then counterfeiting.
Almost like a thunderclap, everything came together, and I had the germ of a story. After that it was research, research, research.
4. What would you want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio?
GS Boarman is my pen name. Boarman is the ancient family name on my paternal grandmother’s side. My mother once gave me a book on the Boarman family ancestry, but I had never heard of the Boarmans before. It proved to be a very interesting book to read. Major William Boarman received at least 4000 acres of land in the colony of Maryland in the late 1600s, in consequence of some connection to the Calvert family whose head was Lord Baltimore. The Major married three times, siring 12 children (7 daughters and 6 sons). Major Boarman was unusual for his time in that he bequeathed even to his daughters decent parcels of land (400-500 acres each), bucking the entrenched English policy of primogeniture that dictated that all land be bequeathed to the firstborn son. Over the generations, all that acreage was divided and subdivided between the many descendants. The Boarmans spread out to the colony of Virginia and then into the then-county of Kentucky, where my family has lived for several generations now. My great-grandmother was a Boarman, and she married a Hughes. (I used Hughes for the name of the engineer of the private train in the books). As I researched the different towns along the route my characters would take, I came across one of the Boarman descendants, Commodore Charles Boarman, whose naval career began in the War of 1812 and extended past the Civil War, a 68-year career. He launched Commodore Perry’s expedition to Japan. It was the discovery of Commodore Boarman, living in retirement in Martinsburg, WV (central to events in Book III) that decided for me my penname. G and S are the initials of my children. I have modeled the Warner family after Commodore Boarman’s family – seven sons and six daughters.
I have always loved reading, but I really appreciate those books that require not only thought, but a little research as well; I appreciate being challenged to learn. Writing just became an extension of reading as I learned to read critically and then to translate that critical reading to an objective response (usually for a term paper or essay); even now, whenever I read, I find myself forming essay-like critiques in my mind.
I have one dog, two cats (Ygraine and Molly), and three turtles (River, found just out of the shell, and Dennis and Dipper). My older daughter also has a corn snake. Until two years ago, there were four dogs (a true pack) – three males and one female. I named our girl Lally (same as the main character in my books) and the boys were named by my daughters: Jack and Morty (litter mates) and Fry (after Philip J. Fry from Futurama; litter mate to Lally). Together, they were Lally and the Boys.
My rival passion to writing is gardening or, more accurately, landscaping (I have completely changed the elevations in my yard, built retaining walls, dug out a pond and another water feature that we call the canal, and created rooms throughout the yard). Gardening and writing are perfect complimentary passions since landscaping can only be done (as far as my tolerance to cold is concerned) during the warmer months. When it is too cold or rainy to work outside, I take up writing (and the research that goes with it).
5. As far as your writing goes, what are your future plans?
The first three books cover events in 1870; taken together, I consider these a single unit, the inaugural story of a series that will cover the decade 1870-1880. I am currently working on the fourth book of what I project will be a total of 12 books.
6. Can you give us a sneak peek into this book?
Excerpts for each book can be found at my website, gsboarman.com, but I will give a different excerpt here:
It was as they were in the private rooms the District Attorney kept at the Burnet Hotel (so conveniently located next to the Post-Office Building wherein were housed the United States courts), quietly sipping the attorney’s private stock of whiskey – private, because it was Kentucky bourbon and not the native and therefor more patriotic Cincinnati whiskey so reviled in Louisville – that another courier brought to them another note. Argent remarked a little condescendingly as he accepted the note, “Miss Warner probably intends to hold us exactly to the twenty-four-hour extension she granted us.” The mild curiosity on his face quickly transmogrified into alarm and even terror as he read the note.
Merritt carefully placed his unfinished drink on the desk. “What is in the note? Is it from M?”
“No,” Argent breathed, but Merritt wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question or in response to the contents of the note. “No,” Argent repeated more forcefully, then, “No, no, no.” Argent had risen from his seat as he said this, and Merritt followed him to his feet. Argent left without a word, leaving Merritt to excuse both himself and Argent from the attorney’s hospitality.
Argent was striding ahead of Merritt, heedless of the looks as he brusquely pushed passed people in his path. Merritt hurried to catch up with Argent, asking, “Shall I hail a carriage?”
Argent never slowed in his pace or softened in his determination to shoulder past the other pedestrians. Merritt often had to step behind Argent to avoid toppling on-coming passersby into the street. Finally, there was an opening in the sidewalk traffic, and Merritt was able to walk abreast of Argent and hear the news.
“This note,” Argent said between gritted teeth and fiercely waving the note at Merritt, “this note was written more than three hours ago, and it was just now delivered to us.” Merritt retrieved the note from Argent’s angry waves and read it as Argent simultaneously explained its content. “Miss Warner was arrested nearly four hours ago for disorderly conduct and indecent exposure.”
Merritt rarely expressed real surprise or astonishment, but in this instance, he repeated rather loudly, “Indecent exposure?!” earning him suspicious looks from several passersby. Lowering his voice, he said, “There must be some mistake. M can hardly bring herself to speak to other people, much less engage in lewd behavior.”
“No, I can’t believe it of her, either; but she has been in custody these four hours, and according to that note, she was due to be transferred to the workhouse an hour ago, if she could not find the means to pay her bail.”
“And her baggage wherein she keeps her money is at Scott’s Landing.”
“As are our own.” They had elected to deceive M into staying ever longer in Cincinnati by feigning problems with the luggage retrieval. The truth was that, other than the locked trunk with its evidence, they had never requested the return of their baggage (though they had insisted on its security), certain they could still get Miss Warner on the M&C and on their way to Washington. They (and M) had been living out of their grip bags ever since. Their deceit was coming back around to trip them. “Hopefully between us we can manage her bail and get her out of there. If she has not already been sent ahead to the workhouse.”
“The Workhouse.” Though they were striding at a very fast pace, Merritt managed to say the ominous words slowly. The wind blew dust and grit into his mouth and eyes. Merritt now understood Argent’s repeated ‘no’ – someone with M’s pride would find the shame and humiliation unbearable – almost anyone would. And Merritt saw a great cascade of repercussions for her in Louisville from such ignominy – the event, of course, would be printed in the papers; and certainly, least of all for themselves, her quite understandable desire to return home, and never, neverleave again.
Argent said, “She will never forgive us for taking so long to come to her aid.”
7. When did you first decide to submit your work? Please tell us what or who encouraged you to take this big step?
Originally, my intent was to write a single book as an exercise, as a personal pleasure. I would type it up, take it to Staples to have it bound, and make two copies (one for each daughter). They could read it or not, but I hoped it would serve to show them that I was more than just Mom, that I had personal pursuits and desires that had nothing to do with the house or yard or even them, much as I love them. But as I began to write and to do the supporting research, I began to feel that I might be able to write something worth publishing. I went back and forth on whether it should remain a personal project or subject it to criticism. Often I thought what makes me think I could be publishable and the response was invariably, Why not me? I had to overcome a good deal of impostor syndrome (and I still struggle with it), but I finally just decided to give it a try and have the response to my submission decide once and for all whether I should pursue the project and hope for a career as a writer. No one encouraged me to submit the manuscript; no one except my dearest friend and my daughters knew that I was writing anything. I wrestled with that demon on my own.
8. Do you outline your books or just start writing?
This is my first foray into public writing, so I can’t say that I have any usual plan of attack. In this case, after I had my thunderclap moment, I sat on the front porch swing for almost two weeks one summer and hammered out an outline. Once that was done, I started doing research and within a short time my original outline was outdated: what had been conceived as one book became a series of 10 or more books. That first outline was segmented into ten separate outlines, and those were fleshed out with notes and glosses as I conducted the research.
9. How do you maintain your creativity?
I thoroughly enjoy the research. When I find something of interest, no matter how minor, it sparks a kind of joy and energy in me and I find I lose track of time. Sometimes I come across tidbits during research that make me feel that I was meantto write these books, that these are clues I was meant to find. Those little found gems help enliven creativity.
10. Anything else you might want to add?
I realized a few months ago that April of 1870 (the time of the first three books) is exactly mirrored in April 2022: in both years April starts on a Friday and Easter is on April 17, and the full moon is off only by one day. I have appended a calendar designed specifically for this first book. So if you want to follow the characters in “real” time, have a copy on hand April 1.
BLURB:
When Mary Warner is requested to attend a meeting with her estranged godfather, President Ulysses S. Grant, she quickly finds that an invitation from the office of the President is an offer she can’t refuse.
Fresh from concluding a counterfeiting sting in Cincinnati, Secret Service agents Merritt and Argent are tasked by the President to convince Miss Warner to return with them to Washington, D. C. For the two Treasury agents, this simple assignment to escort the socially awkward and willful young woman on an 800-mile railroad journey from Louisville, Kentucky to the White House proves far more interesting and difficult than the men could have ever thought possible. And, in the face of danger, it may just turn out that Mary is more of an asset than a problem for the two agents.
For Mary Warner, the trip begins to take on a sinister meaning as she finds herself virtual prisoner to Merritt and Argent. Madness, morality, and murder all swirl in a strange April storm at midnight turning this odd odyssey into something so much more than a mere trip between cities.
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EXCERPT:
She was always slow to realize the magnitude or importance or sacrifice of any kindness or gesture, and now she realized, years too late, that in the middle of a war, with sons dying and stretched between the demands of both the farm and his duty to the Union, her father had stopped for a moment to collect this picture for her. More and more, with each year added to her age, she was beginning to see herself as perhaps others had always seen her – selfish and ungrateful and incapable of natural feelings.
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AUTHOR Bio and Links:
After the death of G. S. Boarman, a great niece cleaned out the old Kentucky family farmhouse and in the attic, amid the rusting coffee mill, the rickety outdated furniture that was still awaiting repairs, and the stacks of vermin-eaten Harper’s Weekly’s and Police Gazette’s, she found a curious box marked simply “M”.
On the kitchen floor, the metal hasps were flipped back and the top pried off. Lying on the top of a very neat and orderly collection of things was a scrapbook and lying loose inside the scrap book was a note that said simply, “Please finish the story.” The scrapbook itself contained a rough outline of a narrative with sometimes undecipherable glosses and cryptic references to mysterious sources.
From letters and notebooks, ledgers and calendars, train schedules and stockholders’ reports, the story was slowly extracted and pieced together, and the small treasures, carefully wrapped and preserved in the box, took their place in the narrative.
Boarman’s will had already been read, probated, and executed, but the niece, as executrix, felt obligated to fulfill Boarman’s last wish — to breathe life into the long-ago story of a woman who held some importance to Boarman.
Website: https://www.gsboarman.com/
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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE
G.S. Boarman will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
RAFFLECOPTER:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f4128
