History comes Alive!

by Barbara Phinney 

I continually get compliments from readers of my historicals on the research and history used. And I have to beam with satisfaction.

You see, I love research. There are some writers who hate it, and that's okay. They write wonderful contemporaries. Their research is in everyday life. 
For my Love Inspired Historicals, I bent to my love of the middle ages. Namely, the Norman period. 

It started in high school, but really took off when I traveled to Colchester, England, to visit my sister. Colchester is a town steeped in history. Rome made it their capital on the island, and William the Conqueror ordered a castle to be built there from the ruins of several previous castles. Queen Boadicea fought the Romans there, Old King Cole was said to have his castle there, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was written there. 

History grabbed me and I knew I wanted to write a story set in Colchester. 
It look many years, but Bound to the Warrior and Protected by the Warrior blossomed from my visit. (Sheltered by the Warrior is due out in February. You should see the cover! It's gorgeous!))

Bound to the Warrior

Protected by the Warrior

And when my husband gave me the The Doomsday Book (a reprint, of course!) I was swept even further out on the sea of history. And the other books I have acquired kept me on that sea. (There is one I cannot find anymore. It was entitled The Short History of the English People. All 1100 pages of it!)

My readers say that they've learned so much from my books. One said she learned what peat was used for. Another said she'd learned so much about daily life and midwifery and another said she now loves the Norman period of history because she's read my books. 

I am so grateful to God for this gift. In retrospect, I enjoyed geography more in school, although my history teacher was the kind of man who got fully involved in retelling history for us. He made it come alive. I still remember this little, bespectacled man, arms flying as he described what the Norman soldiers encountered as they tried to fight the Welsh, those tall, white-robbed men coming down the Welsh hills, singing to prepare themselves for battle. The pious, stodgy Normans must have thought they were angels! Now that's a tactic not taught in the army's basic training!

But me, third row back, near the window, hand holding my head up for most of my school day, well, I was captivated.

And I am blessed to be able to captivate readers with snippets of history. Life in a castle is more than a noblewoman strolling the parapet or bathing in rose scented water. It was hard, and the noblewoman's life was dedicated to keeping her castle safe from everything from enemy soldiers to the dreaded fever that could kill everyone. The lady of the keep was known to have ordered extra battlements built, preparing for a siege until her baron husband returned to free them. One Scottish queen took it upon herself to ensure each child in her castle, no matter what position the parents, was fed a decent meal each day. She would feed them herself with her own spoon, if necessary. 

That's the history I want to incorporate into my historicals. 

What is your favourite period of history? Is there any historical story that has caught your interest? Were you even interested in history in school?

Tell us in the comments section. I'd love to read them. 

Barbara Phinney

Is spring really here?

Hi. It's me again--Lenora. (I often say that when I talk to God, too!)I think spring has finally sprung in Louisiana. We've had lots of storms lately--those April showers and now I've planted some May flowers. I'm having my church circle group here tomorrow night and we're having a nice supper out by the pool. So that meant that all today I did some spring cleaning and my husband and I worked in the yard, clearing up leaves and limbs and pine straw and just about everything else left over from the wind and rain. Now my back is complaining! But it was so nice to get out in the fresh air and work through the renewal that comes with spring. It was warm so I didn't have to bundle up. The wind had died down so it was very pleasant. I did put on bug spray (that's standard in Louisiana where the mosquitoes are always out and about.) But I picked up limbs and pulled weeds and had a pretty good time. My dear husband has worked at his "part-time" job for about seven days straight but he washed the patio down, including the chairs and table and cleaned the pool and made everything looks so clean and pretty. We have new flowers planted and I'll cook everything tomorrow. I'm glad to be here because I had something rather strange happen to me last Friday (on my 53rd birthday). First, I woke up after my husband had left and heard a tv on. My husband never leaves things on, so I went downstairs and saw the little tv in the kitchen on and that tape of the British lady singing away was running on one of the morning shows. That was odd enough. Then a towel in my bathroom just fell right off the rack. That was odd. Then, Friday night I had an assignment for the magazine where I moonlight. I had to get all dressed up to attend the Cotillion. It was raining. After the court was presented and I had my pictures, we all headed out to a tent past the old auditorium where the Cotillion is always held. The tables had these huge three-foot tall glass vases full of lovely flowers on them but the wind was hurricane strength coming through that tent. I was sitting with a nice couple at a table, enjoying the great food, when the wind picked up. We decided to move. I went to speak to a friend and bam, just like that, the huge vase at the table shattered into a million sliver of glass. About five seconds AFTER I'd left. I looked at my friend and said "I was just sitting there." He said, "I know." Okay, that was very odd. If I'd stayed there, I'd probably have stitches all over my face or worse. On the way home, I thanked God for giving me the good sense to move when I did. And then it hit me. 53. That was the age of my sister Glenda when she died (after a wreck with a drunk driver.) My first LI "The Wedding Quilt" was based on all the emotions my family went through when she died. I looked up at the dark night and sent her a big "thanks". I believe my sister was watching over me Friday--all day long--in her playful way. And I think she probably helped me move before that big heavy vase could come crashing down all around me. Talk about renewal.
At 53, I feel renewed and filled with gratitude that I had her in my life. She always loved birthdays. So today, even though I worked hard at spring cleaning (who knew one woman could collect so many winters shoes!!!)and I'm sore and tired from picking up broken limbs, my spirit is not broken. Spring is here and each minute is precious beyong measure. The flowers know when it's time to bloom. They push through the winter to find the sun. And that's what we have to do, too. We push through, even when things seem to be shattering all around us. Winter is over; spring is here and He is risen. My garden looks like the color of love. Because I have angels watching over me--in every season.