I didn’t know if I would be able to post today, and yet I really wanted to.
The reason: October 7, 2018 is the date I started publishing “for real” on Amazon with the first chapter of what would later become My Rose My Executioner.
I don’t what I expected when I started, but I knew that I needed to write it down, my pain, all of it.
But my purge-writing doesn’t pay my bills. I honestly don’t know if I want it to, because then I would be famous, and as much as I would LOVE to be rich, I don’t really want to be famous.
Which means, everyday I’m hustling. So many songs in my head… let’s go with this one.
Lately, I’ve been training online for hours on end. It is boring and repetitive but I can’t skip it, so I open up a separate browser and work on my family tree through Ancestry.com.
I believe I have previously mentioned that Revolutionary War hero Colonel Andrew Thomas Porter is an ancestor, but he is hardly alone in that title. His first non-consecutive wife, also my ancestor, was Elizabeth McDowell and her father, my 6th great grandfather, was the renowned Colonel Samuel Mercer McDowell, Sr.
His wife was (informally known as) Mollie McClung and when you start counting up all the various McClungs/Alexanders/Tates there are in the Carolinas, Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky and down into Texas, it is not inaccurate to say there are thousands of them. All of them my kin.
Samuel’s father was Captain John McDowell, and his mother was Magdalena Bowyer Woods whose mother was born Lady Mary Margaret Catherine Campbell, the daughter Archibald Campbell, the 10th Earl and 1st Duke of Argyle, Scotland which makes her a relation of Mary, Queen of Scots.
I am impressed by all of this, and it is thrilling to find your grandpappies on Wikipedia, but I am less than pleased by the fact that the women in all of these genealogies, who suffered pain and loss and impotence and subjugation to the very last one, have no pictures for me to post.
So, that’s why I wrote Wife. Lover. Abigail. and why I am working on a new chapter of the story. Because I have the heritage, and the right, and the ability to make a story about HER.
Because there has got to be a female companion tale to all this male heroism, somewhere on the edges where history has forgotten them. Until there are great-grand-daughters, etc. like me.
Also, just a shout out, I loved Enola Holmes on Netflix. Viva la femme!
And so, meanwhile… every day I work hard for the money, then I write. Because I can and should.
in North, South
and I’d rub
more than that
if good luck
means I could
feed him lunch
on my bone