Quick Writing Update – Sneak Peek Preview!

Hello everyone,

I’m continuing to write the first draft of my third novel. As previously stated, it is a historical fiction novel set around the turn of the century. This draft I plan to have completed around mid-December. There is a YouTube video close to being published that gives a little tid bit of information on one of the scenes I’ve written, yet I thought I would post a story snippet also below! This comes from Chapter 3, and keep in mind, it’s a first draft!

.     Breakfast consisted of hot popovers, a dish called “toad in the hole”, toast, and mushrooms. It would have ordinarily been a wonderful breakfast, yet the children were anxious to be finished and making their way outside.
.     “Hurry up, Ellsworth,” said Brent half an hour later. “I was done ages ago.”
.     “I’m doing the best I can,” said Ellsworth. “Before we reach the seaside, you’ll all be wishing you had taken longer about breakfast.”
.     “I wonder if Father, Mother, and the others have reached the hospital yet,” said Heather.
.     “They probably have by now,” said Allison.
.     No one else said much about Mother and Father, as they were saying their prayers as instructed, and there wasn’t much else to say, and the more they could think about the outdoors, the less they would worry.
.     Breakfast finished, and a few last remarks said to the servants in an attempt to be polite, the children headed outside through the front door and into the gardens, taking a path that would lead them out to the hill country, and eventually to the seaside. Birds were singing close by, and the garden beds and flowers kept growing as though they hadn’t inkling about Mother’s illness. A few puddles still lay about from the previous night’s rain, yet they were quickly drying up, and most of the grass was now dry except for those areas that had remained in shade.
.     “I’m glad you talked the servants into packing a few sandwiches for our lunch,” said Christopher to Ellsworth. “It means we have all afternoon to be out, until tea-time, I suppose.”
.     “I rather think they don’t want us about,” said Ellsworth.
.     “There were very impolite to us if you ask me,” said Allison. “They treated us just as if we were all two years old.”
.     “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Ellsworth. “We should be fine until teatime, anyway.”
.     Bridget was feeling the bark of one of the garden trees, and Brent was trying to climb up its lowest branches. They stood for a few minutes there in the flower gardens, listening to the fountain splashing in the distance. Moss had grown around the base of the tree, and Bridget was just starting to pull at it when Ellsworth spoke up again.
.     “Let’s get started toward the seaside,” he said. “It will take us a few hours to get there, especially if we take a few breaks throughout. Besides,” lowering his voice a little, “I see that gardener in the distance, and he always seems grumpy around us – thinks we’re always messing up the garden beds.” He glanced at Bridget’s bit of work with the moss and began to wonder if the gardener was partially right. “Don’t pull the moss, Bridget,” he said aloud. “He might see it later and be annoyed with us all the more.”
.     They set out from the gardens, walking first at a very brisk pace. That is, it was the fastest Bridget could go without running, and it was somewhere around a comfortable, headstrong walk for Ellsworth, and somewhere in-between for the others. The gardens quickly disappeared behind them and looked much smaller, and before long, they were starting to ascend a few hills.
.     “At least we’re taking a more direct path this time,” said Ellsworth, and so they continued.
.     They stopped to rest three times along the way, and their last rest seemed to take some time, though as none of them had remembered to take a pocket watch along, they didn’t know for sure. All they could see was the sun slowly rising in the sky, though they had been instructed in times past not to look directly at it. There were a few streams that ran across the path they took, and they splashed their faces and waded their feet before moving on.
.     The smell of the sea eventually drew nearer, and finally, after crossing a ridge, they could see the sandy shore stretching out far below them. They found the same path they had gone down before and quickly descended, taking in the fresh sea air with deep, even breaths.
.     “Any sign of the others?” asked Heather as they came to the edge of the sand, taking their shoes and stockings back off to feel the sand with their toes.
.     “They don’t appear to be here, yet,” said Allison, “but those look like ships in the distance.”
.     “I think they wanted us to come to the harbor,” said Ellsworth, “but as I didn’t know how to get there, I thought we could follow it in from the beach.”
.     The sound of the waves could be heard lapping against the sandy shore, and they walked over to where they could pick up pebbles and rocks. They tried skipping them a few minutes and found that Ellsworth and Heather were the only two who were any good at it. Then, they set out to their right, keeping the beach to their left and walking along the sand. In the far distance, they could see many things that must have been the docks, and out at sea other small things that must have been the fishing ships, some of them probably quite large close up.
.     “It must be close to noon, now,” said Christopher. “I say, Ellsworth, what about that lunch that was packed us? We don’t have enough to share with the others, and I’m sure they’ll be eating something else on the docks.”
.     “Well, if you’re all ready for it,” said Ellsworth, “then I suppose we can have our dinner here.”
.     They opened the packs that had been sent them by the servants and divided the food up. There was enough for two sandwiches each, with extra bread and cheese and apples for any who needed more. After walking all that way and splashing their faces in water and playing in the sand, they were all quite hungry. Before they could stop themselves, they finished everything that they had brought along.

Joshua Reynolds on Conservative Cornerstones – Author of Children’s Books, Young Adult, Historical Fiction / Family Stories – Finding Conservative Thought in Olde Books. Check out my Authoring Conservatism Post. Look up my two books, The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor in my bookstore!

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Victorian Mansions / Manor Homes ~ English Country

Hello everyone!

So, I’ve been researching english country homes and manors for the third book that I am writing, and below are a few of the pictures that I liked the most. Sorry that some of them are very small, but you still get the idea. I hope you enjoy!

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Joshua Reynolds on Conservative Cornerstones – Author of Children’s Books, Young Adult, Historical Fiction / Family Stories – Finding Conservative Thought in Olde Books. Check out my Authoring Conservatism Post. Look up my two books, The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor in my bookstore!

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Children’s Hour – Biweekly

Because I’m pressed with time as I write my third novel and am heavily engaged in marketing my first two, I have decided to make my Children’s Hour posts biweekly. I hope you enjoy!

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Old King Cole

Old King Cole was a merry old soul
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl
And he called for his fiddlers three.

Every fiddler he had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
Oh there’s none so rare, as can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.
~Mother Goose

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?
I’ve been to London to visit the Queen.
Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?
I frightened a little mouse under her chair.
~Author Unknown

A Wise Old Owl

A wise old owl sat in an oak,
The more he heard, the less he spoke;
The less he spoke, the more he heard;
Why aren’t we all like that wise old bird?

~Old Nursery Rhyme

Blow Wind Blow

Blow wind, blow
And go, mill, go
That the miller may grind his corn
That the baker may take it
And into bread make it
And bring us a loaf in the morn.

Blow wind, blow
And go, mill, go
That the miller may grind his corn
That the baker may take it
And into bread make it
And bring us a loaf in the morn.
~Old Nursery Rhyme

Subscribe to my email list and receive my free eBook, titled Rhymes for a Child’s Picnic Lunch, plus email updates, writing news, and more!

Joshua Reynolds on Conservative Cornerstones – Author of Children’s Books, Young Adult, Historical Fiction / Family Stories – Finding Conservative Thought in Olde Books. Check out my Authoring Conservatism Post. Look up my two books, The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor in my bookstore!

A Clip of my Unfinished Book

So, with The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor now written and published, I am now working on my third book that will take place somewhere in the Victorian/Edwardian time-period in England. A very rough draft of chapter 1 has been written, and I am currently in chapter 2. I thought I would share just a couple paragraphs to give you all a very small preview into this coming book. I hope you enjoy!

.     As the children spoke, they reached the top of the hill Ellsworth had spoken of, and they found a rocky descent that led down to a narrow place with rich, downy turf. They had already been through the kitchen gardens, rose gardens, flower beds, and between most of the rows of hedges. These gardens expanded a long way out in many directions, surrounding the large manor house with rich vegetation. Bowers arched up and over the stone pathways, and early June flowers were dangling down from them. Rainwater was currently splashing down their pedals and stems and dripping onto the path. It had dripped on the children when they had passed by that way, as some of the bowers were short enough that the children had to collapse their umbrellas to pass. The mansion stood as a shining center in the midst of all the gardens.
.     [They] had passed the gardens, walked around a small winding trail that led to the croquet grounds, past that and on through a small set of trees with a river in it, and then up a rising hill. Most of their clothes were now soaked with water spray, and their hair was blown askew by the wind, yet color was in their faces from walking and running.

Herbert Dow Home and Garden, The Pines – Nature Blogging

Here are a few pictures and video I took of Herber Dow’s home and garden (check out Dow Gardens website for more of their info). His home is called The Pines. Enjoy!

 

Joshua Reynolds on Conservative Cornerstones – Author of Children’s Books / Family Stories – Finding Conservative Thought in Olde Books. Check out my Authoring Conservatism Post. Look up my two books, The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor in my bookstore!

Children’s Hour – How do you spell Psammead?

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Five Children and It is a story about five children who live in the English countryside about a century ago in the Nineteen Aughts and have all sorts of interesting adventures. They find a Sand-fairy (it) that gives them wishes, yet their wishing always turns out bothersome and hard and they find themselves locked on top of church towers or in besieged castles or at police stations. The children write to their mother, yet none of them know how to spell the interesting word the Sand-fairy calls himself, a Psammead, which is Greek for Sand-fairy. . .

~Excerpt from Five Children and It by E. Nesbit:
Jane’s letter was the only one that went. She meant to tell her mother about the Psammead – in fact they had all meant to do this – but she spent so long thinking how to spell the word that there was no time to tell the story properly, and it is useless to tell a story unless you do tell it properly, so she had to be contented with this –

My dear Mother Dear,
.     We are all as good as we can, like you told us to, and the Lamb has a little cold, but Martha says it is nothing, only he upset the goldfish into himself yesterday morning. When we were up at the sand-pit the other day we went round by the safe way where carts go, and we found a –

Half an hour went by before Jane felt quite sure that they could none of them spell Psammead. And they could not find it in the dictionary either, though they looked. Then Jane hastily finished her letter.

.     We found a strange thing, but it is nearly post-time, so no more at present from your little girl,
.     Jane.
.     P.S. – If you could have a wish come true, what would you have?

Then the postman was heard blowing his horn, and Robert rushed out in the rain to stop his cart and give him the letter. And that was how it happened that, though all the children meant to tell their mother about the Sand-fairy, somehow or other she never got to know. There were other reasons why she never got to know, but these come later.

 

Joshua Reynolds on Conservative Cornerstones – Finding Conservative Thought in Olde Books. Check out my Authoring Conservatism Post. Look up my two books, The Williams House and Treasure on the Southern Moor in my bookstore!