Bell Bridge Books

“I found my true being…”

by Augusta Trobaugh

I have always believed that Southern writing is character-driven, rather than being plot-driven. So in this story, I brought together characters (folks!) who were all from different generations, social positions, and race.

I have so much fun watching as these characters drift into each others’ lives and begin interacting with each other in a most completely authentic manner.  At that time, I become an “observer,” rather than a “writer,” because at some time or other in a story, the characters simply take over, and I am left to chuckle at them or to weep for them.

Also, when I was growing up in rural Jefferson County, Georgia, I became fascinated by the many creeks in the area.  In particular, I remember being delighted when, riding in the car with my mother, we crossed the bridge over Boggy Gut Creek.  As a child, I pronounced it “boogie goot,” but my mother corrected me, and I was even more delighted by the real name.

I grew up in Stellaville, Georgia (population 82), and right down at the bottom of the hill  from my home was Brier Creek, where I watched salamanders and minnows and also the antics of several otters.

When the character of Pansy Jordan came to mind, I was impressed by her intention to do as she believed the Lord Jesus Christ had bade her to do: “Get yourself washed clean in the River Jordan.” Such was her strong intent that she changed her name from “Pansy” to “River.”  But when she finally came to realize exactly how far away the real River Jordan was, she consented to be baptized in Jordan Creek.  In that way, my love of Georgia’s numerous creeks was satisfied.

I had a truly blessed childhood, roaming free (usually on horseback) through the rural areas.  I found my true BEING in all of nature – especially the forests and creeks.

Find your true being with RIVER JORDAN – a March Monthly 100 for only $1.99!

“A Sort of Homecoming for Me”

by Virginia Brown

I have a confession: I am an avid Anglophile. Since I was a small child, I have loved any and everything I could read, see at the movies, or watch on TV about the British Isles. Until recently, I never understood quite why I have always been so fascinated with anything English. A few years ago I began to research our family genealogy, and at last I understand. My mother’s ancestors came from England and Ireland, half of my father’s from Wales and Scotland. On my mother’s side I was able to trace our lineage back to Waleran de Gyrlington, born in 1058. He married a local Yorkshire girl, and happily set about creating a long line of descendants. Perhaps that is why, upon my first visit to England, I actually wept with emotion at setting down on the runway of Gatwick Airport. It was a sort of homecoming for me.

In researching background for NEVER TEMPT A DUKE, I chose Hampshire, a beautiful location on the southern coast with a rich history and gorgeous homes. I shamelessly borrowed from other country manors, castles, and villages to create my hero’s home and lineage. While the surrounding hills and vales are as accurate as I can describe them, the house itself is a composite of other impressive homes scattered over the English countryside. It was easy for me to imagine the Duke of Deverell in such a setting, and even easier to imagine a young American girl’s awe at finding herself living in Deverell Hall as his ward. Of course, Alyssa’s arrival was fraught with anxiety since she was pretending to be her twin brother, a deception that Blake Crandell, Duke of Deverell would certainly not appreciate. But what else could she do when faced with the alternative of languishing in a female academy at home in Virginia? Her twin, Nicky, had inherited an earldom through their father, but Alyssa’s future was uncertain. Since the duke had been made guardian, he had control over their lives until they reached the age of twenty-one. Nicky chose to go to sea, and Alyssa embarked on a deception that would change her life forever. As an American in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar customs, she had much to learn, and never expected to fall in love with the duke. Nor had the duke any expectations of love, especially with someone he’d watched grow from a rebellious girl into a beautiful young woman. Deverell had few illusions, having been disappointed in love before, and had vowed to never allow himself to be tempted into such dangerous emotion again.

But he hadn’t anticipated the power of Alyssa’s desire or his own response. . . .

NEVER TEMPT A DUKE is an Amazon Monthly 100 for March for only $1.99! Grab it today!

Writing About Friendship

by Melissa Ford

Writers are supposed to write about what they know, right?  And what do we know better than our friendships?  There were the friendships our parents set up for us; the children of their friends that we were expected to share our toys with simply because our parents wanted to hang out.  (Yes, I am guilty of passing along this fine tradition to my own children.)

There were the first friendships we formed on our own on the playground.  The friends that broke our heart or didn’t return our affection or were too clingy.  The ones that dumped us.  The ones we drifted away from.  The ones that saved our lives.  The ones that we whispered our secrets to in the dark during a sleepover.

There are the old friends that we’ve been together with for more years than we haven’t been friends, and the new friends that we’ve intensely connected with in the last year or two.

See?  As a subject, it’s pretty ripe for the write-what-you-know rule.

But being close to the subject is tricky.  No one wants to see themselves show up on the page, and it’s bad form to dissect your friendships in front of an audience.  Sometimes we can’t really explain why we’re friends with someone, or why we’re not.  We may not know what we did right or what went wrong.

Sometimes friendships defy words, though I never stop trying to write about the topic.

Life from Scratch is about a woman named Rachel finding herself after the dissolution of a marriage.  She finds her voice through the act of writing but also seeing what she wants reflected in her relationship with her best friend, Arianna.  Where do we first learn how we want to be loved? Our friendships.  And it’s where we constantly return to measure our relationships.

LIFE FROM SCRATCH is Amazon’s monthly deal for March for only $1.99.  Read it with a friend and discuss it over coffee.  Don’t forget to tell your friend how you could never get by without her.

Are these fakes, or are they mermaid sightings?

by Deborah Smith

For centuries, people all over the world have claimed to see mermaids. Either the beautiful, Hollywood siren type, with flowing hair and bodacious bosoms, but more often an odd, ugly creature with a humanoid head and torso but the lower body of a fish, dolphin or seal.

There have been photos, and drawings, and presentations of weird skeletons found on remote beaches. But until recent  years there weren’t videos.

Now, there are.

The amateur photographer has a shaky grip. The video blurs in and out. Its  focus is on a large rock in the edge of the tide, far below the cliff where the camera owner and his friend stand.

“I don’t think that’s a seal, man.”

“I’m trying to zoom in. Where’s the zoom button? Ouch. There.”

The image closes in. A large, dark form with tail flukes like a dolphin’s is stretched out on the rock.

“Where’s the Zoology on this? That is NOT a seal, man!”

Suddenly, the creature twists toward the camera, looking directly at the two young guys on the cliff. It has a pale area where a face and torso would be. The details show little more, perhaps a hint of dark eyes?

The mysterious being whips around, propels itself over the edge of the rock using what are clearly a pair of human-like arms, and splashes into the surf.

A hoax? Great use of computer wizardy, with actors pretending to be two hikers who just happen to capture video of a mermaid sunning herself in an isolated spot along the coast of Israel?

Regardless, it will send goosebumps down your spine.

http://www.animalplanet.com/tv-shows/mermaids/videos/mermaid-sighting-in-kiryat-yam/

And then there’s this video:

Two men sit in a deep-sea observation capsule several thousand feet below the ocean surface in the frigid  waters off the coast of Greenland. They’re marine experts who routinely go to those depths as they use sonar to map the ocean floor for oil and gas exploration.

But they’ve also grown curious about marine sounds they can’t identify. An ordinary listener would say the high-pitched whistles and piercing shrieks are just the songs of whales. But these two men have heard every kind of whale song there is, and this is very different.

They sit in the blue-black light of the tiny pod. A main camera films them and the view in front of the pod, which has big windows that allow the occupants to see almost entirely around them and above them. The pod’s headlights beam ghostly white light into the sheer darkness.

As they listen intently to the unknown song, one researcher points a small video camera  upward, hoping the mystery creature will swim past, above the pod. His back is turned to the pod’s front window and the white glow of its lights.

Suddenly, a ghost-white hand slaps the window, inches from his body. The loud thump can be heard. For a split second the hand splays on the surface.

A palm, four fingers and thumb. Human. But webbed.

The researchers jump in fear. They pivot toward the hand. It pulls away with a swishing motion. The creature—or human being—disappears below the pod, out of sight.

When they watch the video from the front-view camera, pausing it to study the image frame by frame, they see a pale, sunken face with distinctly human features, slender shoulders and arms.

The visitor gazes back at them before it swooshes away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ROaTfBILM8

An elaborate hoax for a television special on mermaids?

Most likely.

Because, as all of us who believe in merfolk will tell you, they’re far too smart to be caught on tape.

Discover merpeople for yourself with ALICE AT HEART a March Monthly 100 – on sale for only $1.99!

“The Initial Blooming of My Imagination”

by Augusta Trobaugh

During my childhood, a “Swan Place” actually existed. It was a two-storied, unpainted house in Jefferson County, Georgia, set well back from the unpaved road, beyond a cotton field, and protected from road and field dust by many Sassafras and Crepe Myrtle trees.

My great-grandparents, Eliza Ann Narcissus Aldred Connell and Nathan Jerome Connell, lived in that large old house and provided stagecoach drivers, passengers, and horses a haven where they could eat, be refreshed, and spend the night.  The entire second floor was divided into two large bedrooms – one for gentlemen and one for ladies.  From what I have learned, this original “Swan Place” was selected as a rest stop for the stagecoach that ran from Savannah to Augusta.

Because I grew up during an era when children could safely wander around (especially in completely rural areas), I often went to that deserted old house, riding my horse there from my own home about half a mile away.  I had not personally known either of my great-grandparents, but I always felt something of their lives when I was there.  I could imagine my great-grandmother cooking in the detached kitchen (well away from the main house, in fear of kitchen stove fire) – the kitchen sort of a separate little cabin resting on logs and equipped with large iron latches, to which mules could be hitched to pull a burning kitchen well away from the house itself.

In that old house, I dreamed my dreams, inserting my great-grandparents into a story that I made up.

Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the initial blooming of my imagination.

When I wrote “Swan Place,” I created a much grander home than the old, unpainted house of my childhood, but the feeling of sanctuary was the same,  as was the fanciful thinking I had done there.

It’s a treasured memory!

SWAN PLACE is a March Monthly 100 for only $1.99! Get it today!