Revisiting The Farmhouse @ Peace & Plenty

With the onslaught of humidity now blanketing the South, I thought I'd revisit the ghostly chills of The Farmhouse. The story was inspired by the abandoned farmhouse up the road from me and I also drew inspiration from David Laskin's novel The Children's Blizzard, which retells the accounts of the Blizzard of 1888 that swept across the heartland. I highly recommend it as it is one of those books that will stick with you.

(Pictured are some of my photos of the actual farmhouse circa 1830s.)

An Excerpt:

As soon as she was assured Kyle was well on his way, Jenny stepped from the porch and headed towards the spot where nearly one hundred years ago, frozen bodies lay beneath the dark canvas tarp. She gingerly stepped around the area and turned back to face the house. Off to the left, the low sloping roof of the ice house was visible. She grimaced. But, what else could the survivors have done with the bodies. The snow was more than waist high and the ground frozen. It would be a difficult task even with the modern convenience of a backhoe to clear the snow and dig graves into the frozen ground.

She returned her gaze to the front porch, remembering the woman in the photo and the small child she held in her arms. Did the woman live in the house or was she one of the lucky who had found their way to the safety of The Farmhouse. What was her name? And, the child? The child in the image appeared to be far too young to be of school age, no the child was two or three at the most she decided. But it was all speculation. Speculation that made for an interesting inclusion into her story. With a renewed sense of excitement, Jenny hurried back to her library, not noticing the greyish eyes of fading shadows following after.

She settled behind her desk and scanned over the pages of notes scribbled with ideas for the book. Across the top of each page she had written the words: romance, history, love, and mystery. A few key words to remind her that each element would need to be included in the book but yet, she couldn’t help but steer her mind away from the blizzard and the tragedy that had befallen the small community. If The Farmhouse was going to serve as the setting of her story or at the very least, the home of her lonely maiden, then the blizzard with all of its tragedies needed to be included as well.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Images of the house as it presently set and those from the photos hanging at the store moved across her mind as though she was flipping through a photo album. She reached towards the typewriter but her hand fell back; her fingers curled around the ink pen sitting atop her papers. The gentle cold weight as though of another’s invisible hand rested upon Jenny’s own hand. The warmth from the blood coursing through her veins formed a slight barrier between the hands of both the living and the dead. The fingers curled around Jenny’s own slender fingers and guided her hand across the page in elegant, sloping movements until the words formed into a more coherent story.

Jenny fell into a trance of sorts and closed her eyes. It wasn’t necessary to watch her hand for the story that was unfolding before her was not of her own making and imagination, but that of Mary and she would allow Mary to tell the story in her own words–no, she would not interfere. As the air swept up and rushed around the room, Jenny remained seated behind the desk. She was well aware that although the house was silent, it was not still. The Farmhouse and the surrounding fields were in movement as the dead moved upon the earth, breaking the natural order of what she had always believed and now, she could no longer deny the fact that there does indeed exist another realm where souls linger and at times move across the veil separating the living and the dead. She dared not to move. Her free hand fell into her lap whereby a tiny hand, most likely that of a toddler or a slightly older child slipped inside Jenny’s own hand, pressing against her stomach and lingering for just a moment.

I

The Evolution of a Cover: The Farmhouse at Peace & Plenty

As you may recall, the inspiration for my ghost story–The Farmhouse–was the abandoned 1830’s farmhouse just north of where I live. It was built by Colonel Funsten and was witness to skirmishes during the U.S. Civil War with wounded soldiers and the dead laying upon its lands.

The book's first edition features the home, with the frozen ground in the foreground (from a photo I took on a frosty morning). I loved the original cover, although I decided to update it a couple of years ago. I may prefer the newer cover, but I’ll never get tired of looking at all of the images I’ve taken of the house over the years.

The original title of the book was “The Farmhouse.” However, once I uploaded the final book and prepared to hit the publish button, I got a message from A-zon that my title was too close to another book. Well, this book is by one of the “big” publishers and is a nice cozy book. I was told I needed to prove my book was vastly different and that a customer wouldn’t be confused in their purchase. I emailed them the cover, which clearly is not “cozy.” I lost the battle. Therefore, I added the tagline “at Peace & Plenty” because that was the original name of the land where the farmhouse sits.

The Evolution of a Novel: A Pale Shade of Winter

Before A Pale Shade of Winter became a novel-length story, it began as a short story challenge from a dear friend and was titled 90 Degrees North. New Orleans sits approximately at 90 degrees north longitude. A Pale Shade of Winter has become one of my best-selling audiobooks and my first attempt at writing a Southern Gothic novel. 

I’ve only visited New Orleans once, and that was several years before I wrote the book, but its atmosphere has always stuck with me. I was also inspired by the stylistic writing of Anne Rice and if you’ve read the book you’ll recoginize Lenore Kensington’s Garden District House sits at the same address as Rice’s former home.

However, I needed to create an original cast of characters, and while I toyed with the idea of vampires, I settled on a different spin on my favorite type of character–the ghost. While I didn’t set out to write a family saga type of book, what’s better for a Southern Gothic than a family torn apart by secrets? A son hellbent on revenge? A sister caught in the middle? And lies?

90 Degrees North began as a story about a pair of sibling grifters and evolved into a hauntingly beautiful love story, and I plan to have part two–the final book in the saga published later this year.

Stay tuned for updates and a blog about the book titles in the series. Pictured in the gallery are some of the storyboard images I used in creating the book.