Stop,Drop and Roll: Adding the Crisis Scene by Guest Janice Thompson

Stop, Drop and Roll: Adding the Crisis Scene  

By Janice Hanna Thompson
"Love, Laughter and Happily Ever Afters!"
http://www.janicehannathompson.com

You’re at the ¾ point in your novel and facing that all-important crisis scene. The Supreme Ordeal. The Black Moment. The Big Gloom. You know it’s critical to the story’s survival, and you want it to be the best it can be. Still, you’re unsure of how to progress. How does one go about writing a crisis scene, anyway? What does a confused writer need to know? It’s as easy as “Stop, Drop and Roll!”

STOP!

Stop the clock. Make the reader feel like time is standing still. Like they can’t possibly breathe until you start the clock again.

Stop the romance. There’s a time to kiss…and a time to save the planet. It’s time to save the planet.

Stop the sunlight. It’s time to cover your story in shadows.

Stop the reader’s heart. Leave him breathless and worried.

Stop the POV character’s chances of survival. Things have to look hopeless at this point in the story.

Stop pretending the POV character’s got it all together. Every flaw is now exposed and every hidden motive revealed.

Stop the cheerful chatter. No time to sound uplifting or cheerful. The crisis scene calls for tense, sobering word choices.

            

DROP!

Drop the plotline. You’ve been building, building, building. Now let it plummet.

Drop your reader’s hope. Make him think the story can’t possibly work out.

Drop your POV characters to a physical low.

Drop your POV characters to an emotional low.

Drop the lengthy narrative. Crisis scenes call for short, quick dialogue and very little narrative. Cut off words by using –em dashes. Leave off tags. Push aside descriptives. Cut to the chase.

ROLL!

Roll up your sleeves. Writing the crisis scene is tough work. You need to learn how to do it effectively.

Roll up (tighten) the tension coil. Tighter! Tighter! Tighter!

Roll over and play dead. Your character has to face death (death of a dream, death of a romance, death of hope, etc.) This isn’t a physical death, of course, though it might look as if your primary POV character might face a literal death.

Roll out the punches. Your character’s going to have to come out swinging.

Roll out the sword! Your character needs to be armed and ready to do battle.

Roll the stone away from the cave. Resurrection day is coming!

Roll toward the resolution. Everything has to turn out okay in the end.

The next time you face a crisis scene in your book, just think of these three little words: Stop, Drop and Roll!”

If you’re looking for additional help with your plotline, consider Janice's fiction writing course. It’s loaded with helpful information for novelists and will give you the tools you need to keep the plot going. Check out her site at
www.janicehannathompson.com

Thanks for stopping by. Do leave a comment if this article was helpful. Do you have a plan in writing your crisis scene or Black Moment?

Blessings,

Elva Cobb Martin

Crafting Great Dialog by Guest Andrea Merrell

Crafting Great Dialogue

By Andrea Merrell  from  http://www.thewriteediting.blogspot.com 

Dialogue can make or break a story—too much, too little, too stilted, or too corny.

When we read, we want to see the characters interacting with each other. Whether they're arguing, sharing secrets, or just getting to know each other, we want the communication to be real and flow in such a way that we get pulled into the story.

As writers, we all have a unique voice. When we create our characters, they will also have a voice. The problem occurs when all of our characters have our voice instead of their own. How boring for our readers if everyone in our story sounds the same.

Tips To Remember When Crafting Dialogue

• Use believable, down-to-earth dialogue that fits your character.
• Don’t be afraid to use contractions, since that’s the way most people talk.
• Be mindful of the setting, especially if it’s historical.
• Make your words fit the culture.
• Consider the age of your characters.

Using speaker beats and tags will enhance your dialogue. Let’s look at both.

Speaker Tags

A speaker tag shows the speaker’s name and a speech-related verb (said, asked, shouted). This is generally the best way to show which of your characters is speaking, but sometimes we tend to overuse them. They're not necessary each and every time someone speaks, especially in a long section of dialogue.

Example: “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing,” Wendy said.

                   “Thank you so much,” Beverly replied.

                    “Would you tell me where you got it?” Wendy said.

                   “Sure. It came from Dillard’s,” Beverly answered.

Do you see how annoying that could get?

Note: This is a common error when using speaker tags:  “That’s a pretty scrawny dog,” Jim laughed. Since Jim cannot laugh that comment, the proper way would be: “That’s a pretty scrawny dog.” Jim laughed. Do you see the difference? In the second example, there is a period after the word dog instead of a comma. The problem with this is that the second example now becomes a speaker beat instead of a tag.

Speaker Beats

A speaker beat describes the action that accompanies what the speaker is saying (like the example above). Here is another example:

“I can’t believe you said that to me.” Jessie grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

Note: Just like the speaker tags, don’t overuse beats. Too many will interrupt the flow of dialogue. They're not necessary every time but work well to help set the scene when used correctly. You can also use them at the beginning instead of the end:

Jessie grabbed her keys and headed for the door. “I can’t believe you said that to me.”

Know your characters well and present them in such a way your readers will not forget them.

What secrets can you share about crafting dialogue? We would love to hear your suggestions.

(Photos courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net/cooldesign/Master Isolated Images.)

TWEETABLES

Dialogue can make or break a story. via @AndreaMerrell (Click to Tweet.)

Learn to use speaker beats and tags appropriately. via @AndreaMerrell (Click to Tweet.)

Thank you, Andrea, for this great article on dialog! I am sharing it and hope all our readers will do the same.

Elva Cobb Martin

Interview with Paula Mowery, Acquisitions Editor, Prism Books

Today we have a guest blog by Danele Rotharmel and her interview of Paula Mowery, Acquistions Editor for Prism Books. I met Paula at at Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers' Conference last May (2015) and pitched my romantic suspense novel, Summer of Deception, to  her. We soon signed a contract and have a 2017 release date. Thought you might like to get to know Paula through this great interview by Danele. --Elva Martin

Paula Mowery #2–Author Interview

ON MAY 2, 2016 BY DANELE ROTHARMELIN 4. INTERVIEWS14 COMMENTS

Dear Friends,

It’s my honor to welcome Paula Mowery back to my blog. Paula is such a terrific person. She is a pastor’s wife who interprets her husband’s sermons into sign language for the deaf. I talk with Paula often, and I have to say that she is one of the nicest, sweetest people that I know. I feel very blessed to call her a friend.

Danele: Paula, I’m so glad to have another chance to interview you!

Paula: Danele, thanks for hosting me again. You’ve become a dear friend and sister in Christ, even though we’ve never met in person. You are an inspiration, and it is an honor to visit with you and your readers.

Danele: Thank you! I feel the same about you, and I’m really looking forward to learning more about you! Can you tell us how being a Christian has influenced your writing?

Paula: My writing is a calling from God, thus being a Christian has greatly influenced my writing. I try to be sensitive to God’s leading in the messages and themes revealed in every story I write. Writing is considered a ministry to me. Ultimately, I want all of my words to bring glory to God and at the same time to encourage the reader towards a better relationship with Christ.

Danele: That’s wonderful, Paula! Here’s another question for you—I’ve heard some people say that the Bible isn’t relevant for us today. Can you explain why you think it is important for Christians to read their Bibles?

Paula: The Bible is the living Word of God. That means it isn’t like any other book we might pick up. It speaks to us where we are today, at this very moment. I can give you a little experiment to test this. There is a Proverb chapter for every day of the month. Read the chapter that coincides with the day of the month. (On the 2nd of the month, read chapter 2.) Pray each day that the Lord will show you something from the reading. Somehow mark what stands out to you. Repeat the next month. Here is what this experiment revealed to me. When I returned the second month to read each chapter, a different verse stood out. Often I didn’t remember the verse being in the chapter. Many times the verse I had marked from the month before held little or no meaning now. What does this show? God’s Word is living. It speaks to us specifically every time we read it.

Danele: I love that answer! While we are discussing things, can you tell us why you think it is important for people to go to church?

Paula: Sweet brothers and sisters in Christ, you must follow God’s mandate to keep the Sabbath holy and not forsake the gathering of the saints. In a world as dark as ours, we need a place to gather with other “light-carriers.” We need those moments of fellowshipping with our fellow Christians and spurring each other on. We need the equipping found in Sunday school and discipleship. We need the worship time together as we sing and open God’s Word. Our church attendance also shows the priority we place on God. Let’s face it, our children are watching as well as our co-workers and friends. Your priorities are evidenced in how you spend your time. We need to recognize our church as a gift from God and treat it accordingly.

Danele: That’s so true! Church is such an important part of the Christian walk. Some of my favorite memories were made in church—and some of my funniest ones too. Is there a funny story from church that you can share?

Paula: My husband is a pastor, and I interpret his sermons for the deaf members of our church. I will never forget when he preached a sermon on fears. He proceeded to call out these long names of phobias and then move over next to my stool and say to the congregation, “Let’s see how the interpreter does with these words.”

Danele: Oh, Paula, you just made me giggle! I can just imagine you trying to sign a word like arachibutyrophobia (the fear of peanut butter getting stuck to the roof of your mouth) or hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (the fear of long words).

Paula: It wasn’t the last time he has done something to me like that in the middle of his sermon. The congregation sure gets a kick out of him ribbing me like that.

Danele: I can imagine so!! That’s so funny!! I love to laugh, and I love to smile, but I know that life sometimes has a sad side too. Has God ever delivered you from a time of great sadness?

Paula: When my husband was in his last couple of years of seminary, we decided to start trying to have a baby. We both loved children and had worked with them in various capacities in ministry and secularly. Nothing was happening. Some tests later, my doctor informed me that I had Polycystic Ovarian Disease. She also told me that it would be more difficult for me to conceive but not impossible. Let’s just say I went through a lot of bitterness and depression while trying to have a baby. I had very strong feelings of dislike for those women who accidently ended up pregnant. Through infertility medication, I finally conceived and brought my only daughter into the world. Fast forward to just a couple of years ago. God nudged me to become the devotional leader at our pregnancy center. I questioned God on this one, “Do You remember my feelings? I’m not so sure they aren’t still there.” Well, needless to say, I took on the job. I learned that my feelings toward these women and girls were wrong. They each had a story. And my job was to show them the unconditional love of Christ. This is some of what inspired The Crux of Honor.

Danele: That’s beautiful, Paula. I love how God can turn our hardest trials into points of ministry. Is there anything else that God is speaking to your heart that you would like to share?

Paula: One theme in The Crux of Honor that I hope readers will discover is the unconditional love of God. Some people today have a hard time believing in this kind of love from God because those closest to them have not shown them this love. When a person has a parent who doesn’t display this kind of unconditional love to him or her, that person might doubt that God could love them in this way. In The Crux of Honor the main character struggles with this as well as feeling that there is no way she deserves God’s forgiveness. The very person (her mother) she needed to model these characteristics fails her. I want people to know that God is a God of forgiveness and unconditional love. You can trust Him even when others fail to model His traits. Humans fail but God never does and never will.

Danele: I’m so glad that you brought up your new book. I know it was released just a few days ago, and I’d love for you to tell us more about it. Can you share the back cover blurb and a purchasing link?

Paula: Sure! Chelsea Wilson’s life is a constant reminder of what living dishonorably looks like. At every turn she continues to prove her mother’s shunning must be deserved. Dr. Kevin Alley returns to the old home place to establish his medical practice. After running into Chelsea, he knows his love for her is still strong. Chelsea is ousted from her small rented room when her mother bursts in, proclaiming Chelsea’s pregnancy. Kevin takes Chelsea in, giving her space to live on the upper level of his house. When Chelsea’s baby displays life-threatening symptoms, Chelsea must face her mother. Secrets unfold about Chelsea’s parents. Can Chelsea and Kevin uncover the secrets linked to Amish heritage in time to save the baby? Can the two find love together despite their history? Here’s the Amazon link:http://www.amazon.com/Crux-Honor-Paula-Mowery-ebook/dp/B01BW1MAEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461712289&sr=8-1&keywords=crux+of+honor

Danele: Before I let you go, can you give us a list of all the books you’ve written?

Paula: The Blessing Seer, Be The Blessing, Forgiven in the Brave New Century anthology, Legacy and Love, Love Again, For Our Good, and The Crux of Honor.

Danele: Paula, thank you so much for taking the time to talk with us! It has been such a pleasure speaking with you again.

Paula: Thank you so much for allowing me to share with you and your readers.

 Friends, Paula is a delightful person. She is incredibly kind and warmhearted. If you would like to learn more about her or her books, please follow the link below. I hope you have a wonderful day!

www.paulamowery.blogspot.com 

                                                  *****

Thank you, Danele and Paula, for this inspiring interview. I am happy to give my blog visitors a link to Danele's blog here. 

https://dragonflydanele.wordpress.com/author/danelerotharmel/

Please leave a comment if you enjoyed getting to know Paula Mowery and we would love for you to share this blog on your social media!

Be blessed,

Elva Cobb Martin

                                        

First Round of Edits

by Elva Cobb Martin

Recently I received the first round of edits for my contracted book, Summer of Deception. Have you ever wondered what a professional editor's first round might look like? Here're the beginning pages with editing marks showing overused words and phrases I needed to change or reword.

Chapter One
Charleston, South Carolina

Barrett Hall arose in the stormy night emblazoned in the taxi headlights. Rachel York’s breath caught in her throat. She shook away lightheadedness and weariness as the taxi crunched the rest of its way up the tree-lined shell drive.

On the wide porch she propped her umbrella beside her suitcase and tried to ignore the shivers of disquiet travelling up her spine. She would find the truth. This new summer job in Charleston was the first step.

The rain pounded pounding against the slate roof then stopped as quickly as it had begun. The moon angled out from behind a cloud, and Rachel glanced around the plantation’s wide portico with its six imposing columns and rocking chairs bathed in shadows. The brass horse- head knocker adorning the entrance added to its aura.

She held her wristwatch to the moonlight and grimaced. Ten o’clock. Five hours late. She’d arrived. With no cell phone connection, she had not been able to telephone. How early did the elderly Mr. Barrett retire? Had he given up on her? Thought she’d changed her mind about his job offer? No way. Never had she dreamed such an opportunity would fall into her lap.

Rachel took a deep breath. The smell of sweet gardenias calmed her. Swinging her thick hair behind her shoulders, she lifted the knocker and let it go. The sound broke the quietness like a pistol shot.

A sharp bark from behind startled Rachel’s already antsy nerves. She whirled around. A gray German shepherd the size of a calf stood on the steps staring at her. She gasped as she reached for her umbrella and pointed it at the beast as if it were a sword.

“Gabriel, what are you barking at?” A tall man stepped into view from a path beside the house, shaking rain from his cowboy hat. The moonlight revealed his strong build and tanned good looks. He wore an eye patch and an olive green T-shirt etched with the word, Marines.

He looked up and saw Rachel. “Come Gabriel,” he commanded the dog. The animal obeyed and he snapped a leash on its collar. “Sorry if this big mutt frightened you. He’s not ferocious, but we don’t broadcast that fact. And the umbrella wouldn’t have done an iota of good if he had a mind to attack—which he hasn’t.” The man chuckled, a pleasant sound in the shadows.

Was he a farmhand or some kind of security guard patrolling the grounds? Rachel breathed easier and lowered her umbrella. She was about to speak when the porch flooded with light and the door opened. Rachel turned.

A gray-headed woman in a wilted apron stood in the partial opening. She glared at Rachel with narrowed blue eyes. They widened when they fell on the luggage.

“I’m Rachel York. Mr. Barrett’s expecting me. Sorry I’m so late.”    

“Mr. Barrett, eh? He didn't tell me he was ‘specting nobody, ’specially for overnight.” She frowned and pursed her lips. “And I'm the housekeeper. What did you say your name was?”

“Rachel York.” Not expecting her? And definitely not for overnight, but for the whole summer.

The woman opened the door wider and her eyes fell on the man in the shadows. “Oh, there you are.”

Rachel glanced back at the man and dog.

He spoke to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Busby, show our guest to the game room in about five minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Obviously not a farmhand. Or a guard. Rachel pulled her luggage into an elegant entrance hall lit by a grand chandelier. A delightful fragrance wafted up from roses on a side table. She propped her Pullman upright and dropped her carry-on beside it. Glancing around, she tilted her chin and smiled. What a lovely, historic place to work this summer.

And who was the striking man who had been walking in the rain?

The housekeeper disappeared, then [SB1] returned and gestured for Rachel to follow. They turned past a curving staircase and stepped down into an enclosed patio dotted with plants amid white wicker furniture. Rachel’s metal-capped heels clicked across polished brick.

What Rachel saw of the house appeared to be exactly the kind she expected an elderly southern plantation owner like Mr. Barrett to have. Dean Woods had described it perfectly as a Gone with the Wind setting. Her future employer had smiled and nodded.

The woman gave a brief knock at a door and opened it. She motioned for Rachel to enter and stepped in beside her.

Rachel inhaled the delightful woodsy scent of cedar chips and turned at the sound of a voice, the same masculine one she’d heard earlier.

---

Note from [SB1]What did Rachel do or think as she stood there in the entryway waiting? Did her pulse race (due to anxiety?) or did she give a sigh of relief she had at least made it inside?

Next week I'll share the "rewrite" I did of these pages. The editor gave me one month to complete all edits of my 209 pages. At first it took me a day to do three pages. But I soon got the hang of it and was able to do 15-20 pages a day, a better goal for having it finished on time.

What have you learned from this editing sample?  Please leave a comment or suggested changes you'd make to these pages.

Elva Martin

Getting the First Page Right--Hopefully

by  Elva Cobb Martin

Recently I took the first pages of my wip, Spanish Captive, for critiquing to a writers' group hosted by Yvonne Lehman in Black Mountain, North Carolina. The writers present had some great advice. I think. I also did the same for our ACFW-SC Chapter meeting the following week. Diana Flegal in Yvonne's group suggested I start the first page with a particular sentence that I had in the middle of page 2. So, when I took the same pages to the ACFW-SC critique group, I rewrote the first page, as an alternate option, beginning with that sentence. Every member of the ACFW-SC critique group agreed that the second beginning with this new opening was best.  Here are the two pages. What do you think?

Beginning #1

Jamaica 1700’s       (Inspirational historical romance)

 Chapter 1    

Hidden deep in the ship's hold, Seema Valentin rocked her sleeping charge on her lap. If only she could keep two-year-old Joshua quiet and their presence secret for a few more hours. Once they were well out to sea, surely the captain and Lucas Barrett would not turn back to Jamaica. Would Captain Wentworth be furious she’d stowed away with his son?

Reverend Ethan Wentworth, now Captain Wentworth of his own ship, a French merchantman. Just thinking her indentured master’s name, not to mention his new status, caused Seema’s heart to jump against her ribs and her breath to catch. But the next moment, moisture gathered in her eyes and her shoulders curled. Her secret past weighed like a sack of stones upon her back.

The child whimpered and awoke.

Shaking aside her troubled thoughts, Seema looked down into the bright eyes of the toddler, his rosy face a perfect blend of his deceased mother’s and Reverend Wentworth’s. He had Hannah Wentworth’s fair skin and oval face, but his father Ethan’s startling pewter eyes, wide forehead and curly chestnut hair. Having been the child’s nanny since he was a newborn, Joshua seemed like her own.

 “Good morning, little man,” she whispered and kissed him on the cheek. “We’re on an adventure with your father and Mr. Barrett. You’re on a real ship. Your father’s own ship, as a matter of fact. Feel the movement? Hear the waves lapping the hull? Isn’t it wonderful? You’ll get to be with your father every day.”

And so will I. But what chance would a soiled piece of goods like her ever have with a man like him?

                                      ***                                                           Beginning #2  

Charles Town 1700's  

Chapter 1

My hero Captain Ethan Wentworth

Ethan Wentworth had been gone six months and seemed changed in many ways.

Cloaked in the early morning shadows of the cemetery, Seema Valentin watched him place flowers on his wife's grave. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard, she feared he might hear. He’d left Charles Town as the grieving minister of the small Presbyterian Church. He had returned as a privateer captain of his own ship.

His bronzed face and thicker arms and torso only hinted at the greater change Seema sensed in his heart. How had he become what many would call a pirate?

Ethan turned and Seema shrank behind a monument. But he saw her.

“Seema.” His deep voice rooted her bare feet in the dew-laden grass.

He walked toward her. “I’m glad you followed me. I have something to tell you.”

Trembling, she looked into his pale grey, almost pewter, eyes. He stood a head taller than she.

“You must know how much I appreciate—and Hannah appreciated—your care for our Joshua these past two years.”

She nodded and heat climbed up her neck at his closeness. A scent of sea, leather and spice tantalized her senses. 

“However, my parents are immigrating to Charles Town, and Cousin Emma is coming too.They will take over Joshua’s care.”

Joshua. His child she'd cared for since a newborn. Her heart fell to her feet and the blood drained from her cheeks. What was he saying? 

He searched her face and hesitated. Then he laid a broad, warm hand on her shoulder. “But in no wise are you to fret about your future. I’m going to grant you freedom from any indentured obligation, and I'll also help you return to your home and family. Wherever that is.” 

Seema averted her face and tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. She could never return home.

                                            ***

Which beginning do you like best and why? Would love to hear your comments. This book is actually Book 2 in a series. 

Onward!

Elva Martin

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

When Spring Came

Remembering Resurrection!   by Elva Cobb Martin

Allston Family Cemetery, Brook Green Gardens  SC

There is no shouting in the grave. The raging oceans and the world's clamor are silenced. Spring never comes. Seeds do not sprout. No fruit is harvested.

Except for one grave, dug before that first Spring in stony ground for a bruised and broken Seed.

The three women who came to that grave that morning knew about death and preparation of the body. They knew nothing about Spring (not that Spring).

They brought embalming spices, and their main concern was how to move the heavy stone from the the door. Perhaps they wept as they walked along, if they had any tears left.

Perhaps relief had settled on their hearts. Relief that the agony of the Crucifixion was over. Relief that the Sabbath was over, and they could anoint the body of their Friend. Relief--even peace--from the knowledge that they had served their friend in life as they now intended to do in death. They had not saved their flowers for the grave, as some do.

But there was no joy in their hearts. In that day before Spring, only an enemy or a fool would have felt joy at a grave.

"For God so loved the world, He gave his only son." John 3:16

So they came, with their dearly purchased spices, prepared to do all they knew how for the dead. To slow the rot and curb the odor with the embalming spices.

Last at the cross, now first at the tomb, the three women, with their womanly thoughts, concerns, and fears, trudged along that garden path oblivious that Spring had come and that the first fruit of that stony ground was within their touch.

"I am the way the truth and the life. No man comes to the Father, but by me."

Mary Magdalene, the Bible tells us was the first to know. Her joyful shout, "Rabboni!" shattered the silent, dark shroud that had lain over mankind through the ages.

The jars of embalming spices fell to the ground as useless as the structures man had built to reach God since the beginning of time. God had reached down to man! Spring had come at last!

After 2,000 years it is still news. It is still news because men still build useless structures, try embalming spices, or climb into trees, as Zaccheus did, to see God.

And most amazing of all, God is still passing by!

                                                           ***

Note: The above is the very first article I sold to a magazine some years ago.
Whoever dreamed a novice writer could make an Easter issue? Just goes to show, you and the Lord can accomplish great things! So keep writing.

What does Easter mean to you? Besides the wonderful spiritual meaning, I love the beautiful season of spring. Below are some photos that inspire Spring in my heart. Hope they do the same for you.

Be blessed,
Elva Cobb Martin

Cherry Blossoms

Brookgreen Gardens Old Gate , Myrtle Beach, SC

Savannah, Georgia, azalea garden square

Brittany, France coast

New Orleans garden

Georgetown, SC 

New Life

Part 2 Plotting a Novel: What to Include - The Story of Tea

by Elva Cobb Martin

My contracted romantic suspense novel, Summer of Deception (2017 release date) is set on a tea plantation. During my plotting and research I accumulated quite a bit of information about tea, most of which I didn't use in the book. I thought you might be interested in some of these facts since most of us are tea drinkers of various kinds of tea today. It wasn't always that way.

England only got into tea imports from China in the 1500's. And, of course, the love of tea later spread to America during colonization.

Tea was discovered in China in 2700 BC. Supposedly, some tea leaves fell into a man's boiling water over a fire. China became the largest producer of tea. The Chinese have a saying: "Better to be deprived of food three days than for tea one day."

Forty countries worldwide now produce and export tea (green tea, black or oolong tea and even white tea). Asia produces the most tea.

America has one tea plantation and it's in Charleston, South Carolina.

All tea originates from the same Camelis Sinensis evergreen bush that is a relative of the camellia family. I've visited the Charleston Tea Plantation and the leaves do indeed remind you of the shiny, dark green leaves of the camellia. Here is a photo I took of the flower stage. But it's the leaves from which we get our tea and it's quite a process from leaf to tea.

I do briefly describe that process in my novel during a romantic tour of the tea curing barn with my war-wounded hero and tea plantation owner, Luke Barrett, and his mysterious summer employee, heroine Rachel York.

Yep, I definitely plotted a romantic moment out of curing tea and also increased the tension between the h/h! Here's the excerpt:

            Rachel almost jumped when Luke turned his attention toward her from the dirt road on which the jeep had been bouncing along.
            “I want to show you our tea curing barn, or factory, as we sometimes call it. Interested?”

            “Oh yes, I didn’t think any tea grew stateside. I thought it all came from China or India.”

            “We are the only place it is grown in the United States.” Luke pulled up to a large structure and parked. Kristina popped out of the back seat and ran to play with one of the worker's children. 

             As they entered the cool barn interior, Luke adjusted his eyepatch. “This was Uncle Charles' dream as a young man. And now Barrett tea has a name among discerning tea consumers and restaurants.”

            Rachel tried to remember everything Luke told her as he walked her through the tea-making process on sawdust paths. She had never dreamed she would see tea leaves cured before her eyes.

            “We harvest the tea leaves by hand from an evergreen bush that is a relative of the camellia family. Then it’s brought in here and placed on these moving mesh belts we call withering beds. It sits here for eighteen hours.” 

             Luke's strong mascline voice somehow affected Rachel's peace as she watched bushels of loose leaves moving on the belts.

            Just as she turned to move forward, Rachel stumbled and almost fell in the corridor.

             Luke caught her. In that one moment he held her against his chest, Rachel sensed fireworks going off in her head. She felt the steady beat of his heart against her cheek and smelled his manly scent. She quickly regained her footing and pulled away, trying to stop the flush climbing up her neck.

            “You okay?” He actually sounded concerned. But a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

            “Yes, thanks, I don’t know what happened. Just a stumble bum I guess.” 

            Luke led her to the next step in the process. She dared not look at him but directed her full attention to the tour and the soft walkway.

            Fifteen minutes later they stood back at the jeep. Luke dropped a bombshell. “Tell me, Rachel, was a summer babysitting job the only reason you came to Charleston?” His face held no hint of a smile. He was back in his Marine special ops role. 

             Rachel’s breath stopped and the blood drained from her face. She bent and shook sawdust from her sandals to cover her reaction. So this little plantation tour was just an excuse to pump her. She straightened and cleared her throat.  “I don’t know why you are asking this again, Mr. Barrett. I think I told you why I decided to take this position. I didn’t relish the idea of the drugstore job back in Ohio and I’d never been to Charleston.”

Do you like different kinds of tea?  I drink hot black tea in the mornings and hot green tea at lunch. I avoid all tea in the evenings because it does have some caffeine that can interrupt sleep, although not as much as coffee has.

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Elva Cobb Martin