My word for 2020 is create. You’ll see a lot of happening on this my website. Create new stories. Create multi-media art. Create aesthetics. Create a mess because that will definitely happen when I do the first three. Just create.
Welcome to my 128th #Rainbowsnippets*. This one, as always, is uniquely mine, but there are lots of other great snippets to read so after you finish here click the FB link at the bottom of the post to discover other great LGBTQIA authors and their works.
I am now over 75% done with my edits on Striking Balance: The Peculiar Making of Beatrice Benjamin Sophia Scott Schnell Gow, a queer Historical Paranormal Fantasy set in, you guessed it, Appalachia. This Appalachia, however, is the frontier, and the story takes place during the Revolutionary War era and the time after, meaning the late 18th century. This explains the narrator’s voice. If you’ve read the letters and journals of the period, you’ll recognize it as reflective of those.
This week I’m picking up where I left off in Chapter One. The part in orange comes from last week’s post, Unscathed.
Yes, this goes a wee bit over the six sentence limit, but I’m trying to let Ben complete his thought. And make certain to read the commentary below the snippet for a bit of deeper insight. The portion in orange comes from last week’s snippet.
But they have thus far left us and the Alcott’s farm unscathed as well.
This perhaps bears an explanation. Widow Alcott’s son, Mister Josiah Alcott, purchased his farm based on surveys alone, five years back but only moved his sisters, mother, and his mother’s slaves here two years ago before he was called by Mister John Sevier to join the Revolution. Conall served in a Virginia Militia and faced Redcoats in a skirmish before we met; that is where he incurred his injury, but he, fortunately, survived when others did not.
I attempted to join militias in North Carolina but was thrice sent away for being too small for my age, a point that continues to infuriate me, and I become angrier still when I witness Conall smoothing his shirt for the fifth time in as many minutes. Widow Alcott looks for him to marry Charity and manage the Alcott farm, but I pray he does not fall into her snare, Mary’s chicken or not.
I glance at Conall as we walk, content with my current lot despite its complications. He is a quality manager and Master Gow, while strange, leaves us predominantly to ourselves aside from the spring plantings, summer trimmings, and harvest, which has allowed me to end my travels though I know I must always remain alert and ready to flee if need be. This is the ninth year Conall and I have toiled this land, our ninth year of tobacco and corn, so I know I can trust Conall about most matters, but others I whisper only to Peg and Winkle as we plow so we might turn them into the dirt, burying the knowledge for another year.
Truly Tiny History Lesson: A lot of land was purchased sight unseen back in this era and that tobacco is a complex crop to grow. It’s how many small farmers in my part of the world earned their Christmas and overwinter grocery money every year for decades. Not so much anymore since the tobacco warehouses are widely gone and you can purchase tobacco hanging sticks as walking sticks these days.
Commentary: You’ve again learned a whole lot about Ben in a few sentences. He’s jealous if not possessive of Conall, but he’s hiding something so deep that he’s willing to lose it all to keep himself safe. What is it? Well now, therein lies at least part of the story, does it not?
*RainbowSnippets is a safe and welcoming space for LGBTQIA+ authors, readers, and bloggers to share 6 sentences each week from a work of fiction—published or in-progress—or a book recommendation. Feel free to join in.