My parents were of the World War II generation. Dutiful to country, brimming with tales of gas rations, war brides, friends who didn’t survive, their stories filled our home.
With my maternal grandfather living with us, his accounts of joining in on the tail-end of the gold rush came spilling out. Although only a teenager at the time, he had traveled with his older brother across the country. A picture surfaced of them in an old car in St. Louis. Stories of Utah and California accompanied the cards and letters from his acquaintances far away from North Carolina.
At my paternal grandparents’ house, a gleaming staircase beckoned. At its zenith were the childhood rooms of my aunts and uncles, and the attic closet where my uncles’ military uniforms hung at attention, as if waiting to be called up for duty once again.
Adjacent to that, another rod held the ball gowns and bridesmaids dresses of my Aunt Millie. I would open the door hurriedly, seeing the rush of air bringing the clear plastic coverings to life as they swung in the sudden breeze, and imagine the dance between the soldiers and the ladies, the one I was certain I had interrupted.
Aunt Millie was a beautiful, petite, blonde whose pink perfumed room was a treasure trove. She gave me my first taste of champagne, a book on French style, and the soundtrack from The Sound of Music, her favorite movie. Pursued by a bevy of gentlemen, none ever made the final cut, though not for lack of proposals. There was something wild inside her, some spark of nature that needed the forest for nourishment, and she could sniff out ginseng and lady slippers while wearing a cashmere sweater and Pendleton wool slacks.
Going on walks with her whenever she came home was a treat, especially when the girls would follow her around the road to our great-grandparents’ vacant and abandoned house on the hill above us. Our male cousins would always invent a reason not to accompany us, but as soon as we rounded the bend in the road, they would run from the house, racing through the woods in a short cut to boost one another into the window and up the rickety stairs. (We didn’t discover this until years later.)
Armed with the wooden leg of our great-grandfather—and I wonder to this day why it wasn’t buried along with him—they would listen for the creaking of the door as it opened and then begin the haunting. I can still hear the thump of the leg as it came for us, and how we would sprint off the porch, certain we were about to be taken back into the grave with dear old great-grandpa.
Creepy old houses, ghost stories, romance, obligations, duties, adventure—that was how I grew up.
I was convinced I was supposed to be a writer and even wrote my first novel at age nine. But the eighties wasn’t about following passion, it was about seeking the best-paying jobs. My advisers said I should study business and just write as a hobby, so I did.
I filled my electives with creative writing and literature classes. One professor called me to her office after a reading. “You already have a style,” she said. “You should keep writing.” Thank you, Essie Hayes.
For some reason I decided it had to be a secret hobby and put my novels to bed in the upstairs cupboards once they were finished. Like mistreated children, locked in the closet, they waited for sunlight. It didn’t come for them until my son left for college. With my husband—now of thirty-one years—busy on his farm, I went on my own adventure.
Off to France and to The Essoyes School, where Janet Hulstrand’s encouragement and advice gave me the courage to start submitting my work. And then I read about a writer’s retreat The Wild Rose Press was hosting in Asheville, North Carolina and decided to join in. There I met not only other wonderful writers, but the owners, and my editor—Maggie Johnson.
My first novel, Acquisition, was released last November, and my second, The Haunting of William Gray, is scheduled for release this November.
If you like sassy, strong heroines; smart, savvy heroes; and a bit of adventure, you’ll enjoy my tales.
Sounds like you had an awesome childhood!
I love your writing, Renee. You paint such a vivid picture of the past and conjure pleasant childhood memories of my own. Thank you for being such a wonderful guest on ABA. I look forward to having you again and can’t wait to read your book.
What great stories! You have so much material to keep writing for years. Thanks for sharing!
Love this, Renee! What an artist you are!
Congrats. I liked your post. Very entertaining and interesting.
What a great story of growing up. Being a NC girl myself, I thrived on those family stories growing up. I also kept my writing a secret for many years. Guess a lot of authors do that. So glad you cam out of the closet, lol!
Excellent post! Loved reading about Aunt Millie. Best of luck with your new release.
I can relate to stories being the life blood of ancestors, Renee. My gramma told the best ones of my youth. What a fun family you have, Aunt Millie reminds me of my Aunt Marlene some.
I, too, had ghosts in my childhood. Our imaginations often got the better of us.
What a great family you had. Reminded me of some the pranks my grandmother used to pull. Best of luck on your release!
Great post. I never thought about it that way, but your comment, “But the eighties wasn’t about following passion, it was about seeking the best-paying jobs.” is spot on! Wow! Congrats on your book!
What a fascinating family you had, especially Aunt Millie. I love hearing fellow authors’ stories!
Love your story! Aunt Millie sounds like she was a lot of fun. Best of luck with your writing!
I understand where you are coming from, been there. In Colorado the ghost stories revolve around the gold rush, and mines in Cripple Creek and Victor. My mom told me the same thing about writing, so I turned to the law. Great post and congrats on your accomplishments. Good Luck with your debut novel! Sounds intriguing.
Love this post! Thank you for sharing a bit of your Aunt Millie with us. She sounds like she was a fascinating woman. best wishes on your release!
Wow! Thank you all for the wonderful comments. I love the encouragement from fellow authors.
I too, hid my writing away for a long time; I didn’t even tell my husband. I think I thought people would laugh, as in “What makes you think you can write?” Eventually the urge to write grew stronger than my fear and I had to bring my darlings out of the closet, just as you did. Wonderful post, Renee.
Great post, Renee. Funny how some educators attempted to steer us away from our dream.
Beautifully written post. I was captivated. Congratulations on your awesome achievement and best of luck with your debut novel.
Congratulations on your releases. Such an interesting post. All the best.
What a wonderful story/post, Renee. I was told by my mother I could write when I had to stay at home with kids. Ha! Just wondering when that TWRP retreat in NC was; sorry I missed that.
A beautiful post! I too was raised among a family of great storytellers. I guess the talent must translate readily to the written page. Best of luck with the book–it looks fabulous!
Great post – I love all those things (ghosts, creepy houses, secrets, adventures, etc) and I spent my childhood making up stories and scenarios to keep myself entertained. And like you, I chose business degrees in college, and even grad school, as it seemed more practical. Glad we received the opportunity to share our creativity!
I love hearing from fellow boomers. I had about the same experiences growing up in the Los Angeles area. I was a little crushed when I found out my grandmother’s big old house had been torn down.
I love to hear the personal stories of my fellow authors. Good luck with your new release. I can’t wait to read it
Thank you Casi! It is generous of you to share your writing space with other authors. I appreciate you!