By Lizzie Tremayne (Guest Blogger)
What
draws us to history?
Is
it the romance of a different time from our own?
Is
it what history can show us about ourselves?
How
we’re different from or similar to others in the past?
Does
it show us links to the people we were, and how we will be in the
future?
Does
it show us where we’ve diverged when people have made new
beginnings?
Do
we hope it will give us hints about where to seek in the eternal
quest for who we are and where we fit in to this world?
For
me, this last reason is why I write in the historical genre. When I
began writing, I never thought about all this. I only knew I was
drawn to stories of the past. The Dark Ages, the Elizabethan period,
and the Old West equally held me enraptured since even before I began
to read myself, for the simple first reason above.
I
began researching and writing historical novels only a few years ago.
It soon became clear that I was looking for answers to questions in
my own history and present. What I discovered has helped me become
more comfortable with the person I am.
As
I study, I repeatedly ask myself how I can make the information I
unearth palatable to someone who might never pick up a book of
historical fact, search out an old battle record or travel to a
remote graveyard to read the inscription on an old tombstone. Can I
offer readers some inkling of what happened in their own town or
country to give it the unique flavour it carries today? Some idea of
why a certain town emerged just when it did? Most importantly, to
shed light upon the reasons a particular society developed the way it
has? Perhaps it will provide a piece of the puzzle, which will allow
a whole population to try to open the doors previously closed upon
the past, allowing healing of the hidden wounds that prevent peaceful
cohabitation.
Several
towns in the West define themselves as being part of the Pony Express
Trail. The stories of Laura Ingalls Wilder played a large part in my
understanding of the westward-moving American pioneer, and the
peoples and lands they encountered, and how the settlers dealt with
adversity. In my first novel, A Long Trail Rolling, coming out in a few days, I use Aleksandra, the daughter of a Polish
immigrant trapper family, to show snapshots of 1860 life in the wilds
of the Rocky Mountains. She must survive when she is left alone in
the world, and becomes a “boy” rider for the famed Pony Express.
Although
the ‘Pony’ as it was called, only lasted for a mere eighteen
months, it still captures the imaginations of thousands, if not
millions, of people, even one hundred and fifty years after its
inception.
I
show some interactions with American Indians in the novel, both
positive aspects and negative.
In
my second novel, A Sea
of Green
Unfolding, more than halfway completed, I show
aspects of 1860′s history of both the San Francisco Bay Area, (or
the part from Redwood City, via La Honda, and through to San
Gregorio) and 1863 New Zealand. Discover why Redwood City grew so
quickly? Learn why it was called Redwood City. In the same book, I
offer the reader aspects of New Zealand history which are certainly
not taught in primary, and only rarely in secondary schools here.
They are shadowy aspects of our history which portions of our society
wish had never happened, and would rather forget. Although almost
apologetic, many of those who know are content to bury it beneath the
carpet, so most people are unaware of the whole story and resolution
cannot be attained. This untold history has shaped us as the people
we have become. The conflicts began long ago between the Maori (and
before that, the earlier Moriori) people who had already settled New
Zealand before Captain Cook came in the 1700′s and the white
settlers from England, Europe and Asia. There was wrongdoing on both
sides, but much has remained hidden from the general view.
Overall,
I hope to effectively use history to paint a picture, so that readers
can better understand some of their own past, answer some of their
questions about themselves and become more comfortable with their own
place in the world.
A
Long Trail Rolling by Lizzie Tremayne
The
Long Trail, Book One
Escaping
her father's killer, Aleksandra rode the Pony Express—full speed
into the middle of the Indian Paiute Wars.
She
didn’t
expect
to
become
a
target,
but
she
is
one
now!
Seventeen
year
old
Aleksandra,
trained
in
the
Cossack
arts
from
infancy
by
her
father,
finds
herself
alone
and
running
to
prevent
her
Pa's
killer
from
obtaining
a
secret
coveted
by
the
Russian
Czar,
one
which
could
alter
the
forces
of
power
in
Europe.
Disguised
as
a
Pony
Express
rider
in
1860's
Utah
Territory,
she
finds
herself
in
even
deeper
trouble.
Her
California
boss
Xavier
has
a
strength
to
match
her
own,
but
can
they
overcome
their
differences
before
the
ever-increasing
odds
overtake
them?
With
this
debut
Western
Historical
Adventure,
Lizzi
Tremayne
won
the
2014
RWNZ
Pacific
Hearts
Award
and
was
a
finalist
in
the
2013
Great
Beginnings
A
saga
of
the
Old
West
with
a
multicultural
cast
of
those
who
make
up
America,
it
would
interest
readers
who
enjoy
Westerns,
horses,
American
Indians,
immigrants,
and
the
Pony
Express.
It
has
a
capable
heroine,
strong
historical
detail,
period
veterinary
treatment
and
frontier-pushing
characters.
It
compares
to
the
work
of
Phillipa
Gregory,
Diana
Gabaldon
and
Jean
Auel,
with
a
little
Laura
Ingalls
Wilder
thrown
in.
This novel is the first in The Long Trail quadrilogy of historical adventure sagas following her characters from the wilderness of 1860 Utah to Colonial New Zealand.
Genre:
Western
Historical
Adventure
Fiction
with
Romantic
Elements
Content/Theme(s):
Western,
horse,
native
American,
Indian,
immigrant,
Pony
Express,
veterinary,
Utah
Territory,
Old
West
Release
Date:
10
January
2015
Launch
Party:
14
January
2015,
Placerville,
California!
Publisher:
Indie,
as
Blue
Mist
Publishing
Excerpt
Lookout
Pass, she reminded herself as she neared the summit. Glancing north
to the distant white tops of the Onaqui Mountains, she swallowed hard
as she thought again of her papa and the fossil he'd fossicked for
her from its rocky ledges.
The
spotted pony broke into a lope over the crest of the hill and began
the mile-long descent. Aleksandra's thoughts filled with memories,
she was absentmindedly fingering the fossil inside the medicine bag
hung about her neck when she felt the first arrow whizz past her
head.
Her
heart stopped in its tracks and she flung herself to the left side of
the Palouse's neck in a Cossack hang, lying flat against his side.
'Yah!
Yah! Let's go, Scout!' she shouted, throwing the reins at him.
He
needed little urging to run full tilt down the steep and
treacherously rocky trail as the yells of Indian warriors echoed
through the narrow valley. The arrows came hard and fast from the
southwest, screaming like a mad bunch of hornets.
Smart.
Her lips curved in the hint of a wry grin.
The
Indians had placed themselves between the trail and the setting sun,
so Aleksandra couldn't see her attackers in the glimpses she stole,
from beneath Scout's neck, of the world whizzing past. With the
ground only three feet from her head, the scent of sage filled her
nostrils when Scout crashed through a clump of brush. Briefly
considering letting go of one of her death-grip holds onto the racing
horse to pull a gun from her holster, something akin to suicide, she
tightened her lip in a grimace and stayed put, trusting far more in
the Palouse's speed and handiness to save them. Knowing her weight
hanging off to one side had to put him off his best, she tried to
stay out of his way, keeping as still as possible, tucked down on the
side of the skidding and leaping beast. Praying the cinch would hold,
she sent fervent thanks to the pony selectors for their choice of
horses.
How
I would love to have my bow and arrows, but I only need to get us
through to Doc Faust at Rush—
The
Palouse interrupted her musings as he threw up his head and reared,
angrily trumpeting and shaking his head for a moment, nearly dropping
Aleksandra, then resumed his headlong rush down the hill. When he
carried on, she heard whistling sounds with every breath and turned
her face forward to see where the noise was coming from.
Then
she saw the arrow.
Lizzie's Links
Website:
www.lizzitremayne.com
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/LizziTremayne/
