Finding Inspiration in Quotes

saintelmobookcoverStElmotheBook

My favorite novel is ST. Elmo, by Augusta Evans Wilson (1835-1909). The book inspired me to write THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER.  Although my book is not a ST. ELMO remake, the similarities are not coincidental.

To pay homage to Augusta Evans Wilson and her best-selling novel, I introduced ten of my thirty-four chapters with a quote from ST. ELMO.  They are as follows:

“He is a rude, blasphemous, wicked man,” said Mr. Hunt as Edna reentered the shop.

“That passage leads to my son’s apartments, and he dislikes noise or intrusion.”

The expression with which Mr. Murray regarded Estelle reminded Edna of the account given by a traveler of the playful mood of a lion, who, having devoured one gazelle, kept his paw on another, and, amid occasional growls, teased and toyed with his victim.

She picked up from the spot where he had thrown his shawl a handsome morocco-bound pocket copy of Dante, and opening it to discover the name of the owner, she saw written on the fly-leaf in a bold and beautiful hand, “S.E.M.”

God help me to resist that man’s wicked magnetism!

“I go like Ruth, gleaning in the great fields of literature.”

“Mrs. Powell received a letter from a wealthy friend in New York who desires to secure a governess for her young children.”

“If she ever marries, it will not be from gratitude or devotion, but because she learned to love, almost against her will, some strong, vigorous thinker, some man whose will and intellect master hers, who compels her heart’s homage, and without whose society she cannot persuade herself to live.”

He strained her to him and pressed his lips twice to hers, then the carriage stopped at the railroad station.

“Edna, my shadow has fallen across your heart, and I am not afraid that you will forget me.”

HelpMetoResistStElmo

 

Romance and the Language of Flowers

poetryofFlowers

 

I found this copy of the POETRY OF FLOWERS (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.) in an antique flea market.  The inscription on the flyleaf reads in part, “Miss Carrie Lawrence, May 18th 1891.”

People who lived in the nineteenth century assigned meaning to each flower.  Choosing flowers for a bouquet was a delicate matter because you wanted to send the right message.

For example, if you wanted to say “Let the bonds of marriage unite us,” you would choose the following flowers for your bouquet: blue convolvulus (bonds), ivy (marriage), and a few whole straws (unite us).

FlowerDialogues

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If you saw the movie KATE AND LEOPOLD, starring Hugh Jackman and Meg Ryan, you might recall the scene in which “Leopold” shows “Kate’s” brother how to choose a bouquet for his girlfriend.  Sad to say, the language of flowers has faded with time.  I would like to see the POETRY OF FLOWERS in print again as a runaway best seller. 

Creating a Fictional Landmark

The church loomed before her like some aged monument preserving the memory of its founders.  Clutching vines of ivy encrusted the walls and  scaled the towering steeple, as if to hold the bricks in place and keep them from crumbling.  Like sentinels, a pair of massive, gnarled oaks guarded the entrance.

As Effie took the key out of her pocket, she recalled Mrs.  Baldwin saying, “I hope you’re not superstitious.  Providence is one of the oldest churches in Fairfax County.  It predates the Civil War.  Some say it’s haunted.  Can you imagine calling a church haunted?”

Timidly she unlocked the door and peered into the sanctuary, deluged with light from stained glass Palladian windows.  Each was part of a series depicting the life of Christ from the Annunciation to the Resurrection.  She walked down the center aisle, carpeted in red, towards the cross that loomed over the choir loft and dropped to her knees at the altar.  Surrounded by all the trappings of spirituality, she prayed and pictured the throne of God, the “sea of glass,” the cherubim, and “the four and twenty elders” clothed in white.

But the vision was short-lived.  Like a clap of thunder, the specter of doubt jarred her with a question:  What if her circumstances were accidental, not providential?  What if coming to Fairfax was a mistake?  She waved the notion aside and seated herself at the organ. 

A careful examination of the instrument found it nearly identical to the one she’d practiced her lessons on in Columbus.  “What harm is there in playing the organ?” she asked aloud.  Her words hung in the air, unanswered, undisputed, and soon “Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” resounded throughout the sanctuary. 

She poured herself into the composition, mindless of time and place, until a rapping sound arrested her attention.  Her eyes scanned the church before resting upon a stained glass window depicting the Crucifixion.  Like a metronome, a branch was tapping the pane. 

As she resumed playing, the melancholy fugue fired her imagination, bringing “The Phantom of the Opera” to mind.  A mental picture of Lon Chaney lurking behind one of the pews prompted the feeling that someone was watching her.  To counter the thought, she abandoned the organ for the piano and played a hardy rendition of “Oh Happy Day.”  But halfway through the song, a scraping sound sliced the air, immobilizing her fingers.

Excerpt from THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER (pages 7 and 8).

*******

St. Francis Methodist, Mobile, AL

St. Francis Methodist, Mobile, AL

When I started writing THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER, I wanted to give the story a familiar setting with historical landmarks.  I chose the City of Fairfax, one of my favorite stomping grounds.  Most of the landmarks mentioned in the novel are real, but Providence United Methodist Church is fictional.

The name “Providence” is not a coincidence.  Not only does it mean God’s will, but prior to 1859, the City of Fairfax was known as the village of Providence.

My description of Providence Methodist was partly inspired by the architecture of Berryman United  Methodist  in Richmond.  Truro Anglican Church in the heart of the City of Fairfax influenced me also.

Many Versions of WUTHERING HEIGHTS but Only One HEATHCLIFF

Which one of these three versions of WUTHERING HEIGHTS resembles the book by Emily Bronte most?

Wuthering Heights (1939 film)

Wuthering Heights (1939 film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cover of "Wuthering Heights (1970)"

Cover of Wuthering Heights (1970)

Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights

Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights (Photo credit: wikipedia)

Did you know that “Heathcliff” in WUTHERING HEIGHTS is a despicable character–I mean REALLY despicable?  If you saw the 1939 version of WUTHERING HEIGHTS, starring Lawrence Olivier and Merle Oberon. or the 1970 version, starring Timothy Dalton and Anna Calder-Marshall, you might have found Heathcliff engaging.  But in 1992, Ralph Fiennes portrayed him as a handsome brute, with the emphasis on brute.

The first time I watched Ralph Fiennes in that role, I was horrified.  Heathcliff was nothing less than obsessively passionate–and obsessively cruel.  For some reason, I sat through the film a second time, but this time found the mean-spirited Heathcliff oddly appealing.  If I could define his performance in one word, it would be “intense.”  In fact, Ralph Fiennes gives the most intense performance I’ve ever witnessed in this or any film.

I had read the book as a teenager but forgotten most of the story.  So I read it again.   Was I surprised!  The film follows the book almost to the letter.  Ralph Fiennes’ “Heathcliff” is nearly identical to Emily Bronte’s description.

Here is an excerpt from the book of Heathcliff describing his wife, Isabella:

“She [is] under a delusion,” he answered, “picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion.  I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and acting on the false impressions she cherished.  But, at last, I think she begins to know me: I don’t perceive the silly smiles and grimaces that provoked me at first; and the senseless incapability of discerning that I was in earnest when I  gave her my opinion of her infatuation and herself.  It was a marvelous effort of perspicacity to discover that I did not love her.  I believed, at one time, no lessons could teach her that!  And yet it is poorly learnt, for this morning she announced, as a piece of appalling intelligence, that I had actually succeeded in making her hate me!  A positive labour of Hercules, I assure you!”

I urge women who haven’t seen this film to watch it.  You’ll love hating Heathcliff and hate loving him.

A Boy Named Jett

JerimiahDoss 001Someday I’d like to write a story about a boy named Jett mainly because I like the name.  It’s a great fictional name.   Don’t you agree?  But I didn’t make it up.  Jett was a real person who dated a relative of mine when they were teenagers.

Years later, my relative attended his funeral.  As she looked into the casket, a tear fell from her eye and landed on his cheek.  She reached down to wipe it off, but a woman stopped her.

“Don’t do that,” she said.  “Jett would have liked it.  He never got over you.”

How’s that for a prologue?  Not only is real life stranger than fiction; sometimes it’s better.

Winter at Warwick House

macariaAJEThe second semester of Effie’s junior year at George Mason began with a mixture of snow and ice, and classes were cancelled.  Cooped up in the house with nothing to do, she moseyed into the library with Macaria in hand, found a seat by the window, and gazed at the wintry setting below, taking note of the massive oaks glazed in glittering ice, which reminded her of ice palaces.

Slipping into a nostalgic mood, she proceeded to read the book, published during the Civil War as a Southern  propaganda piece disguised as a romance.  But Effie was more interested in the protagonists’ relationship than in the subtleties bolstering the Rebel  cause.  If only real life could rival romantic fiction!  Was God fashioning a lifelong companion for her as dashing as Russell Aubrey?

She sighed blissfully as she read the following passage:

“Irene, oblige me in what may seem a trifle; unfasten your hair and let it fall around you, as I have seen it once or twice in your life.”  She took out her comb, untied the ribbons, and, passing her fingers through the bands, shook them down.  He passed his hands caressingly over the glossy waves.

Impulsively, Effie removed the combs binding her own hair, and vigorously shook her head, casting untamed curls in every direction.  Then, with an elbow propped on the windowsill and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she gazed dreamily upon the day’s spectacular finale.  As the sun dipped low in the Western sky, its blazing splendor filled the room, painting the alabaster walls with shades of crimson, plum, and gilded pink.

Effie stood up and maneuvered the chair to make the most of the remaining daylight then sat down and resumed reading aloud, vaguely conscious of footsteps in the hallway.

She was endeavoring to memorize a paragraph when, all at once, the door swung open hitting the wall with a loud band.  Effie leapt from the chair, sending the book to the floor, and stooping to retrieve it, found herself bowed low before Rev. Baldwin.

“Give me your hand!”

005956-R1-23-24He pulled her up until her eyes were on a level with his tie, and she could tell by the rigidity of his posture that he was fuming.  And yet, braving a look at his face, she gulped to discover a pair of dark dejected eyes shyly entreating her own.  They peered beneath a veil of ebony lashes, gently disclaiming the hard mouth and adamant chin.  Stifling a sigh, Effie dropped her eyes and wondered how anyone could appear so cruel, vulnerable, and incredibly handsome all at the same time.  She ventured another glance, but this time his languishing look shifted into something more ominous.

He reached into his pocket, withdrew an envelope, and bitingly announced:  “This letter pertains to you.”

She stretched out her hand to receive it, but he held it out of her reach.

*The above is an excerpt from THE PRINCE IN THE TOWER, pages 158-159.

PapasLetterToEffieB.W. Wright wrote this letter–dated November 8, 1924–to the real Effie Belle Butler, my grandmother.  I named the fictional “Effie” after her.

Directional Dreams

Dreams are awesome!  I never paid much attention to them until I had a life-changing dream–or night vision?–several years ago.  I saw the phrase “Kindle & Kindness” lit up against a dark background.  The letters were large and outlined in tiny white lights like the  title of a film on the marquee of a theater.  But the letters were not typed.  They were written in cursive.

Wondering what the phrase meant, I “googled” it.   Nothing definitive came up.  A few weeks later, I tried a different search engine and found a Website with the phrase “Kindle & Kindness.”  Up to that point, I don’t think I knew what a Kindle device was.  I had seen the  icon on Amazon off to the side while looking for other items.

English: The second generation Amazon Kindle, ...

English: The second generation Amazon Kindle, showing the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My unpublished novel was gathering dust.  So I took the dream to mean that I should publish it on Kindle.  I bought a Kindle and consulted Joshua Tallent of e Book Architects.  His group formatted the book for me so that I could upload it on Kindle and Nook.

For a while, I was more focused on the book than the dream or where it came from,  That was a mistake.  The real story is about a closer relationship with God.  My interest in dreams led me to John Paul Jackson’s Website.  John Paul Jackson is a Christian dream interpreter.  His insights have given me a deeper, Biblical-based understanding of dreams and visions.

I knew that dreams and visions are in the Bible, but I never thought of them as having significance today.  John Paul Jackson points to Job 33: 14-16.  “Indeed God speaks once, or twice, yet no one notices it.  In a dream, a vision of the night when sound sleep falls on men, while they slumber on their beds, then He opens the ears of men and seals their instructions” (NASB).

Not every dream comes from God.  That’s for sure.  Dreams fall into different categories and come from different sources: the flesh, the mind, God, and the demonic realm.  While dreams are one of the ways that God speaks to us, He speaks primarily through His Word.  If you think God has spoken to you in a dream, make sure that the dream doesn’t conflict with the Bible.  God will never direct you to something that contradicts His Word.

A relationship with God through Jesus Christ is more important than anything in the world.  Books, inventions, and projects will come and go, but a personal relationship with the God of the universe lasts forever.