IDEAS
Most of the time, my idea for a book comes after I have visited a place that intrigues me. Or I discover a little-known historical fact, person, or event that needs showcasing. Here are my latest Works-In-Progress with a few reasons why I chose to tell these stories.
TRILBY’S PROMISE
In 1910, during the industrial revolution in North Carolina, a powerless sixteen-year-old girl has little more to hope for than unending work in a cotton mill under manipulative bosses. But Trilby King, with a voice like a nightingale, has dreams: dreams of going to music school and teaching others to sing. When fate disables her parents, Trilby must somehow keep the family afloat. How can she possibly make her dreams come true now? TRILBY’S PROMISE is a story of determination, of family love and conflict, of desperation and lies, of budding romance. Ultimately, it is the story of how one girl conquers the odds stacked against her and literally finds her own voice.
Following is an excerpt from TRILBY’S PROMISE:
In my sixteen years of living I’d never woke up in a bed by myself. But there I was, stretching my bare legs from one side to the other, and the only things I felt were the lumpy mattress underneath and the quilt on top. Cousin Esther’s smelly breath wasn’t blowing in my face, and Cousin Pauline’s rump wasn’t planted square in the middle of my back.
Bright morning light beat my eyelids open like steam on a sealed letter and reminded me my year of misery had begun. It was time to get dressed for my first day of mill work. A knot of dread lay hard and cold in my stomach, anchoring me to my bed.
I looked around the bedroom in the unfamiliar house, noticing patches of dull wood that fought their way through old blue paint. A small fireplace held an empty grate. Diffy, my seven-year-old brother snored softly in his bed. Yellow-white hair curled on top of his head, and his normal foot stuck out from under his quilt. His shriveled leg and club foot lay hidden under the covers.
Usually I greeted the day with singing. Most times I’d just as soon sing as eat. But for weeks, the thought of quitting school and moving away from everything I’d ever known dried up every song in my mouth. In my heart.