Although many writers know they want to be a writer from an early age, was there something in particular that made you decide to pursue your dream? 

The defining year for me was the year my youngest daughter went to first grade.  I had been at home raising four children spread out over several years and felt the void of sending the youngest to school all day.  Until then I’d been playing at writing, keeping handwritten notebooks and dallying with the stories like a hobby.  Then and there I decided that I was going to actually do what I’d always dreamed of doing and write an entire book.  I started it in October and finished it during that school year.  I had the time of my life.  I had no idea what I was doing, so it had no plot or conflict and the villain was wishy washy, but the characters were fun and I enjoyed creating a romance.  I even submitted the manuscript to every publisher and agent I could find.  Only years later did I understand how embarrassing that was.  I did everything you’re not supposed to do.  Who knew the time period was unmarketable?  Who knew you weren’t supposed to bind your submission in a pretty folder?  The story is as yet unpublished, though some day I’d like to rework it.  

How long after you first started submitting did it take for you to have your first book accepted? A lo-o-o-ong time.  As I said, I started submitting before I was ready, before I’d discovered a writing group or Dwight Swain.  I was writing for about four years before I found a local writers group.  I was fortunate.  I generous lady and talented Avon author named Diane Wicker Davis started my local chapter.  She read my stuff and showed me how to make the stories better and the writing stronger.  I lucked into a critique group with another published author, Barbara Andrews (who now writes with her daughter as Pam Rock) and she and the group encouraged me.   Once I learned the techniques to write to sell, it took about another three years.  

What attracts you to your time period? 

For me the appeal of Americana and westerns is the simplicity of the time and the durability of the men and women.  Life was difficult.  People were determined and resilient.  I watched westerns from the time I was a kid and learned to appreciate the charm and strength of a cowboy.  The ever-present themes of good verses evil are the foundations of those universally appealing types of stories.  Who doesn’t love to root for an underdog?  Who doesn’t want to see the bad guy get his comeuppance? The rancher/farmer’s sweat and blood are imbedded in his land–as deeply as the riverbeds and the roots of the ancient trees. It may have been his father’s before him, or he could have broken his back to earn it. In any case he will die to keep it. Solidarity. And any man who would pour this much passion into his land, will love his woman even more ardently.

To nearly all women I’ve spoken to on the subject of cowboys, physical appearance plays a major part in the attraction. The reality was that dungarees or Levis were not exactly ‘slim cut’ or sexy; they were stiff and probably dirty, and few real cowboys fit the image of the Marlboro man, but our fantasy cowboy has a lean backside in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, long legs, and that ever-present Stetson pulled low over his eyes. Ever notice how a pair of chaps invariably draws the eyes to the uncovered sections of denim? Our man wears his Colt strapped to his thigh, the holster rides his lean hips, his spurs jangle–this dangerous guy exudes sex appeal. The western hero is a hard body due to demanding work on the range, riding and roping, chasing outlaws, stopping the runaway stage, and sleeping on the ground.  He’s untamed, a little wild, and a lot sexy. He doesn’t need a gym membership or a treadmill.

What does your writing cave look like? 

Messy.  Papers everywhere.  Books all over.  I’m known far and wide as a collector and my office reflects that particular gene as much as any room in my house.  In my office  have a curio full of old and new dolls: Barbies, My Scene, Ginnys, Disneys, Madame Alexanders, and any others I can’t resist. There are framed writing awards on the few visible walls—most of the wall space is taken up by bookcases.  The color of the walls is called Strawberry Pot, it’s a soothing and inspiring teal, my favorite color.   I have a comfy rocking chair piled with pillows, a TV on an upper shelf, a counter full of office machines like copiers and printers and two computers. 

My book covers are thumb tacked to the bulletin boards that back my desk area on three walls, along with pics that readers have sent.  I have half a dozen oil lamps, a row of Angel Cheeks, framed photographs of the cutest kids ever, a jeweled tiara and paperweights.  A vintage globe that belonged to my grandmothers sits atop one of my cabinets.  There are many things I love about my space, and one of them is that it’s sound proof.  You can actually hear the difference when you come into the room—the effect created by four walls of books.   

When you are not writing what do you do? 

Probably not sleeping,  LOL  My husband and I like to garden together, so many of our weekends are spent creating arbors and gardens and soon ponds.  We love to shop flea markets and browse antique malls.  More often than not you could find me selecting paint, then watching him roll it on or arranging a spot in the house just so.  I like to make interesting displays of vintage collections and have so many I have to change them out to enjoy them.  I’m a movie junkie, so late night I watch movies (and take plotting notes—it makes me feel like I’m working).   

It’s true. My neighbors never see me anymore. They know I’m home, in here somewhere, doing my job. Gone are the old days, when I’d sit outside watching my kids play in the street with the other kids, while the mothers swapped stories about school and shopping, sharing their innermost thoughts. Now, my kids are grown and I define myself not as a part-time childbirth educator any more but as a full-time writer. It’s not glorious or glamorous but it’s work I’m passionate about. That’s not to say I don’t have some “pull my hair out” days.  I do and they aren’t pretty. Most of the time, I’m racing with the clock. There isn’t enough time in the day for me.  Often times I’m working 7 days a week – it seems rare that I get a weekend without a few trips to the computer. This is not news to writers. I’d venture to guess we’re all about the same.

I had the good fortune this Saturday to sit with bestselling, award-winning author, Stella Cameron during my Romance Writer’s of America chapter meeting and she remarked about people’s preconceived notions about our writing life. So I picked an “average” day and thought I’d share with you my routine. 

As soon as my dh kisses me good-bye (After 30+ years, I’ve learned the man isn’t a conversationalist in the a.m. so I don’t get up until he leaves – I’m too chipper for him).  I head straight for the kitchen and brew some decaf.  While I’m waiting I log onto the computer and pull up my emails. A slow email day is 20, a busy email day is 5o. If I miss a day due to a computer glitch (I’m presently angry with my computer!) I’ll log on to over 100 emails.  Most emails I simply read and delete,  but many require a response.  I get my coffee and sit down and spend the next hour going thru and answering the emails.  One email requested me to send in my profile, an interview and bio for the Mills and Boon site, the request coming from an editor.  This takes time, so I set this aside for the time being as I try to figure when I’ll be able to get to it.   My coffee is tasting really good by now and I’m almost ready for my morning breakfast of Weight Watchers English muffins and another cup of coffee.  I try to limit my email time to one hour, but often I exceed that. 

By 9 AM, I’m ready to really dig in, but as I check my email messages one last time, I see a note from my editor- she needs my bio and dedication and a Dear Reader letter for my upcoming release.  Okay, that can’t really wait.  I bring my breakfast to the computer and I think what I want to say in the Dear Reader letter.  The bio is easy, but the dedication isn’t.  I like to make them short and sweet and today it isn’t really coming.  The Dear Reader letter takes me almost two hours.  The ideas from my idea tree aren’t formulating easily. 

 When there’s a knock on the door, I freeze. I’m never dressed before noon and I have to decide if I want to answer the door in my fluffy lavendar robe.   Yesterday, I didn’t and I missed an important package.  Today, I decide to take my chances and go for it.  I open the door to Gayle, my mail lady and she’s got my AA’s (author alterations) for my March  historical,  Taming the Texan.  Wonderful … the AA’s require going over every word in the 300 page manuscript looking for errors.   There’s a deadline and luckily I’ve got more than a week to do them. After I sign for them, teasing Gayle that I’ll only open the door looking like this … to her, she replies, ”I’m sorry, I always seem to wake you.”   The irony makes me smile. To this I reply, “I’ve been working since 6:30 at the computer.  There’s no need to get dressed – I can’t afford to waste the time,” I explain and we have a laugh.  (I’m still not sure she believes me.)

With AA’s in hand I head back to the computer. I’m feeling slightly put off – I haven’t gotten to my work in progress yet and it’s almost noon!  I have this uncanny habit of checking my email every few hours.  So I check it again and have a message from my daughter. There’s always time to answer her.  And I have a cute joke from my hubby.  By now, I’m needing a lighter moment, so I read the joke and it makes me laugh.  There’s 10  more emails to read and I  answer as many as I can quickly.

It’s 12:15 and I realize I better get cracking. What’s worse than being on a deadline, is trying to get a proposal sent off to your editor.  This requires 3 chapters and a synopsis. Only this time, it’s a trilogy that I’m working on.  That means a full proposal for the first book and two more synopses for the 2nd and 3rd books. Most writers would rather have a root canal than write a synopsis.   Putting your ideas down is easy, having them make sense isn’t!  So it requires hours of honing and editing. 

By 2 pm, I realize I haven’t eaten lunch. This isn’t good. I’m trying to lose weight and skipping meals doesn’t help. You’ve got to eat your 3 healthy meals a day and snack lightly in between.  I learned this not from WW, but from the TV show, The Biggest Loser.   I hate to stop, but I need nourishment so I fix a salad, turn on my faithful show Days of our Lives that I’ve taped with the DVR and try to get my story out of my head for half an hour.  I’m really enjoying the salad and the time away from the computer but as soon as the meal is finished, I head back to my work in progress. I NEED to finish this proposal – the bulk is there – but it still needs more honing and polishing.  A good writing day for me is 5 pages of polished work.  An excellent day is 8 pages of semi-ready work. I’ve barely written three pages today and the clock is ticking. Soon, I’ll have to stop to make dinner. 

Not that my hubby isn’t supportive – he often volunteers to cook when I’m busy. But he’s just worked an 8 hour day and honestly – I need time off the computer chair.  As I leave my seat to put together my dinner, I pass our “exercise” room and I look longingly at the treadmill.  I’m not being sarcastic – I really try to work out every morning, but today’s not going to be that day. The morning’s long gone and it’s time for my husband to come home from work.  I resign myself to working with weights and doing some late night pilates while I’m watching television with my hubby later on in the evening.  This is a “must do”.  

Dinner is great and I spend an hour or two with my hubby. If he happens to head to the garage to work on a  project – today he’s bent on fixing a drawer in our kitchen, then I head back to the computer. I check emails, do some editing and start working again.   Sometimes, I work until 8PM, sometimes 9PM and I’ve learned to always make time for my husband.  I’ll drop my work in a heartbeat if he needs my attention or simply wants to do something together. That is another ”must do”.  

When I finally close down for the night, I make a mental list of what I need to do first thing the next day.  I still have to do the Mills and Boon interview. I need to send a book I promised for a charity benefit. I have to return a few phone calls I didn’t get to today. I owe my best friend a call too.  The AA deadline is looming. I can’t put that off - the book is scheduled for March.  I haven’t checked MySpace in days or Shelfari in weeks! Or entered the Rita Contest or sent my January book out for review.  And I NEED to finish my proposal! 

But tomorrow is another day.

Update: It’s been more than 2 weeks since I began this Blog.  I still haven’t finished the Mills and Boon thing.  BUT, the AA’s are done!  AND I sent off my proposal and SOLD it during that time. I’m employed again!  I  just realized I made two “obvious” typos in my November ENewsletter due to rushing - ugh!  And I’m making mental lists of all the things I still need to do. Did I mention I’m also planning my daughter’s wedding? 

So what’s your story?  Is your writing day similar to mine? And if you’re not a writer - what’s your average work day like? Do you have a job that’s a  neverending compilation of “to do’s? Any daily rituals you’d care to share?

Like the Lee Marvin character in “Paint Your Wagon,” I was born under a wanderin’ star.  Although my roots are firmly planted in Utah where I grew up, the itch to roam emerged early.  As a solitary three-year-old I loved to take off on my own and go adventuring.  Luckily we lived in a small town.  People knew whose little girl I was and would return the “lost” child to her frantic mom. (Heck, I wasn’t lost.  I knew where I was the whole time.)

I married another wanderer.  We moved 30 times in 20 years and lived in Guatemala, Panama, Germany and several places in the U.S.  To make a long story short, I emerged from the marriage in 1984 with three beautiful children, some great travel memories and few regrets.

In later life, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit places I’ve always dreamed of.  The Himalayas were at the top of my list.  I knew I had to go while I was young enough to make the rigorous trek, so I traveled to Nepal with the Sierra Club in 1997.  The first time I saw Machapuchare, an incredible spire rising above the clouds, I shed tears.  

It took me another nine years to get to the second place on my list—East Africa.  My sister and I had spent several years looking after our elderly parents before they both passed away.  After they were gone we decided to make the trip together.   We spent two wonderful weeks on safari in Tanzania, seeing elephants, lions, antelopes, zebras, giraffes—so many animals!  Such great memories to share.

Last month in Peru I combined numbers three and four into one trip.  The lost Inca city of Machu Picchu took approximately 100 years to build.  The invading Spaniards never found it, but at some point its inhabitants moved away, leaving its stone buildings in perfect condition.  No one knows how its huge stones were moved and fitted together seamlessly, with no need for mortar.  No one knows what the place was used for—our very knowledgeable guide argued for its being some kind of university.  The first sight of it is breathtaking.   One woman in our group broke down and cried—I understood.

I left my heart in the Amazon rain forest.  To get there, we flew from Lima to Iquitos, Peru’s river port.  From there we took a boat downriver to our remote jungle lodge, which had thatched roofs, cold showers and pit toilets.  The peace of that huge flowing river, the towering trees and bursts of color from birds, flowers and butterflies just sinks into your soul.  We even saw pink dolphins in the river.  Even as I write this, the place is calling to me.  I will go back.  I must.  

What places call to you?  Do you have a favorite travel destination?  Are you a contented homebody?   I’d love to hear from you.

When I wrote my first historical YA, Samantha and the Cowboy, I had a scene where—following a day of herding cattle with their bandannas up over their noses—my heroine thinks the hero looks like a raccoon with all the dust around his eyes. My manuscript came back with a note: “I think of raccoons as being around streams and in woods. I don’t think a girl who grew up in Texas would know what a raccoon was.”

I live in a suburb near Dallas, a creek runs through our neighborhood. About the time that I got the manuscript back for revisions, something was digging in my front yard. I set a trap that would capture, not hurt, whatever creature was having fun in my yard. Yep, you guessed it. It was a raccoon. I sent a note to my editor, “Guess what? I just caught a raccoon in my front yard. We have streams, trees, and raccoons in Texas. She would know what a raccoon was.”

Of course, the digging continued. We also caught a possum and an armadillo.

One of the things that I love about Texas is that no matter what sort of terrain you want for your story—you’ll find it here. Desert, mountains, hills, woods, plains, beaches, islands . . . we’ve got it. As a writer, I’m able to set stories in Texas and still have very different locations.

Of course, when you write about Texas and Texans, you sometimes get other comments from copy editors.

In The Outlaw and the Lady, I had a hero who would always say that he was aggravated when he was angry. “Don’t aggravate me.” It’s a phrase I picked up from my father-in-law who is always saying how aggravating things are when they upset him. “It was aggravatin’.” The copy editor went through the manuscript and changed every aggravated to “annoyed” and wrote a note—“Don’t use aggravated when you mean annoyed.” I wrote a note back—“I didn’t. I meant aggravated.” (Truly, can you see an outlaw being annoyed?) So I went through and changed them all back.

And then we get the fact checkers. For my first book, Sweet Lullaby, the hero visits a prostitute. He pays her $2. The copy editor put a note on the manuscript: “Was $2 a fair payment back then?” It was if she worked in a high-class brothel. Since it was my first book, I didn’t realize that I could just answer her query with a “yes.” Instead I wrote a thesis about prostitution in the old west and included it with my notes back to the copy editor.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the copy editors. They do find mistakes that I’ve made: wrong word, changing the year of a story and not remembering to change the title of a book the heroine was reading—a book not published until after the year in which the story takes place. Things that if they didn’t catch, a reader would.

I have a friend who is a freelance copy editor. And oh, the stories she tells from her perspective! Maybe we should have her as a guest sometime.

Truly, I would much rather be a writer than a copy editor. And now I need to get back to my copy edited manuscript.

Good Morning!

Because we have just celebrated Veteran’s Day on Monday, I thought I’d take a moment to post about something very American — fhe Native American influence on America, itself — how we are today and how we got here.

Long ago, after meeting and talking to many Europeans, I was struck by the fact that the American idea of freedom is much freer than that across the Atlantic.  I didn’t quite understand why since our roots go back to England and France and Holland (and others of course, but these three were here first).  But because my next book is set in the land of the Iroquois, I have been getting quite an education.

Did you know that Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and Thomas Paine were greatly influenced by an ages old Confederacy of the Iroquois?  Did you know that much of our Constitution has very deep roots in the Iroquois Confederation?

If you didn’t, don’t feel bad.  I didn’t either.

Indeed long ago, before the white man ever set foot upon the North American Continent, five warring Native American Nations decided to ban war forever and to seek peace and to try to bring this peace to other nations, that war should be forever abolished.  They developed a set of laws to help them along this path and they “buried the hatchet” and by doing so established a long tradition of peace.  It was brought about by the man they call The Peacemaker, or Deganawida, and Hiawatha (the real man, not the legend of Longfellow’s poem).  They lived as hunters and farmers in villages with cleared fields that grew the three sisters, corn, beans and squash.

Did you know that when the white man came here, America was not a wilderness?  Land had been cleared for farming — and the forests were like gigantic parks — the under brush was burned off so as to produce a place for hunting that was much like our parks of today?  At least so writes Captain John Smith.

The Iroquois had a very definite sense of freedom.  Man was free.  He was not subject to a King — he did not abide by the “Devine Right of Kings,” and he was an independent being.  His elected officals were sent there by the elder women of the tribe and could be removed for not obeying the laws by the women of the tribe.  In fact, after 3 notices, a man was removed — and lived the rest of his life in shame.  No offical ever was paid for being on the council.  It was considered his duty to his people and to his tribe.

It was only after learning more and more about the Native American that I have come to realize that we owe the Natives of this country a debt.  Our sense of independence, our very thought of what it means to be free comes not from those who came to this country as serfs, but rather from those who lived on the American Continent in freedom.

So, since we have just observed Veteran’s Day, I’d love to hear your comments on freedom, veterans, and what it means to you to be a free people.  Do you have any experiences to tell me about?  If so, I’d love to hear them.  So come on in and let’s talk.

I’m tired of deadlines.

I have a book due December 15th and it’s not close to being done.  I’m usually farther along at this stage of the game, so the pressure is getting to me.  I’m at the stage where I think everything I write is dribble and I just want to type They all died.  The End.

 I suspect that’s probably not a good way to end a romance novel.  Even a romantic suspense. 

Deadlines…

Even when they are months and months away, I still feel them hanging over me like an old gray November cloud. I’m good at guilt so even when I don’t NEED to be writing, I feel like I SHOULD be writing and I never feel completely free.

I’m thinking of taking a break from deadlines.

It scares me to death to write that. If I take a break, I get off my publisher’s schedule. Who knows when–and if–they’d let me back on? And what about my readers? Will they remember me if I don’t publish a new book every six months? And of major consideration–if I’m not working, how will I justify keeping my housekeeper? Which is worse, deadlines or cleaning bathrooms?

Tonight after working a 10 hour day, I’m thinking deadlines. I imagine after my sons and their friends all come over for the game watching party, I’ll be thinking bathrooms….

I hate deadlines.

But I love writing.

But I hate cleaning bathrooms after boys….

But I love writing.

Only, no more tonight. Stick a fork in me. I’m done.

I hate deadlines…

What’s a girl to do?

Thank you all for dropping by and visiting yesterday.  The winner of their pick of one of my books is: Jennifer Y.

Jennifer please e-mail me at patyjage@patyjager.com and let me know which book you would like.

 Paty Jager

Hello Everyone!  Thank you, ladies of Petticoats and Pistols for letting authors of western romance be guest bloggers.  I’ve been scarce making comments this week because my two daughters and their combined four children – all under the age of four – have been at my house since last Saturday. While it’s fun having them- it puts a crimp in my usual daily activities. Such as blogging and writing.  

My newest release is a contemporary western set on a cattle ranch in SE Oregon. This book was the easiest to write because I didn’t have to do as much research as I do with a historical. My husband and I raise cattle, so the day-to-day worries and work were easy to write. Our little “hobby ranch” is nothing like the one in my story.

Perfectly Good Nanny is set in a remote area of sagebrush, rabbit brush, and bunch grass. It is harsh land that requires diligence on the part of the rancher during calving season.  It is a part of the country where the cattle had to scrounge to find feed all year round until the invention of irrigation pipes.  The hero and heroine are thrown together by a 12-year-old girl, tired of taking care of her 2 year-old brother, and a meddling Klamath Indian neighbor. The two hire a nanny without the father knowing. When the woman shows up knowing everything about his family, Brock Hughes is not the least bit hospitable. But between the nanny and the girl they manage to get him to agree to the one month the neighbor paid for. Sparks fly and two people who’d given up on love learn to love again.   

My story depicts the daily lives of remote ranchers. To some extent though they have the newer equipment a lot of the day-to-day chores are the same as a hundred years ago.  Before haying and equipment, herds were moved to the higher range in the summer to eat the grass, saving the lower, taller grass in the meadows to feed the cattle during the winter. They also hayed, but would not reap as much feed from their hard work as they can now with the modern equipment.   

Grass was cut, usually from a meadow that was watered from a creek or a spring. A hand-held scythe was used to cut the grass. And later on in the 20^th century a ground driven sickle was pulled behind a horse to cut the hay. By the late 1800’s they used a dump rake pulled by a horse to “rake” the hay into piles.  Those piles were then forked onto wagons or sleds.  The hay was then either forked into a barn or loft or a large outside pile. In the winter, this pile was pulled onto low sleds and dragged by a team of horses. These piles were then towed to the pasture where the cattle were wintering and forked off to feed. 

In the 1800’s just feeding the cattle could take half a day or longer if they were scattered among several fields. Of course, if it was a large enough operation, they would have several feeding sleds.  Being from a ranching family, I find the historical aspects of ranch living more interesting than the day-to-day lives of people living in the cities in the 1800’s  

What is something you have always wondered about? What kind of bathroom facilities people living in apartments in large cities in the 1800’s had? How long did it take to make soap or actually weave enough cloth to make a garment, or even how long did it take to sew by hand a dress or shirt?  That is what I find so fascinating about writing historical stories, the research that answers these questions. Why do you write or read historical romance?  

Thank you for participating today.  Leave your comments and I’ll pick one person to win an autographed copy or their choice of either my current contemporary western “Perfectly Good Nanny” or one of my previously published historical westerns.  

Also check out my website www.patyjager.com to enter my November contest and read my reviews.  

I’m a very visual thinker and I’ve found having visual stimulants for my books to be extremely helpful—not only with writing, but also with goal setting. A college English teacher of mine once told us how the first books were actually written out on pottery and an author should be able to visualize their story as a piece of pottery, a whole object you can turn over in your mind and see how it all flows into one piece of artwork. I loved that image but didn’t truly grasp the concept until I went to my local RWA chapter’s writers’ retreat and they had an evening workshop of making collages for your story– a pictorial representation of the book. It’s a crafty way to get a hands-on feel for the story.

My first collage was for MUSTANG WILD and having this tacked on the wall beside my desk while writing this book was great when I needed a quick visual to place my mind in the scenery.  Okay, and that Stetson man is plain nice to look at.  With Tucker’s nickname for Skylar being Angel Girl, the winged heroine worked.  The map represents the journal Skylar used to plot their course from New Mexico to Wyoming and I clipped a bit of scenery from each stage of their journey and some key words to touch on the conflict and motivation for the story. 

My contemporary western ARIZONA SKY is set on a dude ranch, and a renovated Spanish-style house is the central setting and a focal point for this collage—having a quick reference to help place my characters was a really nifty tool.   To make your own storyboard collage you’ll need a poster board or a wide strip of paper—some prefer softer paper so it can be rolled up and stowed away—and a few magazines.  Personally, Cowboys & Indian’s was a gold mine of pictures and key words – Arizona Highways is another favorite of mine. Grab a glue stick and you’re ready!  While attending the workshop they only allowed 10-15 minutes for flipping through the magazines—point was to not over-think anything, just whip & rip when a picture struck you for whatever reason. It was a lot of fun to then go over the pictures you’d ripped out on a whim and figure out why they spoke to you and what they said about your story.  The exercise was also helpful for plotting!

I was recently looking for pictures for my next Wild book, tentativley titled INTO THE WILD, set during the blizzard of 1886 in Wyoming, and my heroine is a tough-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside mountain woman who blends in with her surroundings–so of course she’d need a white fur coat to cammoflauge her against the snow—check out the first picture I came to…..Wild! 

I shared this collage method with my critique partner, Sheila Raye, and she took her collage to a whole new level—she made actual models to her stories–this one is for one titled LOVE LIGHT, can you guess the setting? Talk about seeing your book as a sculpture!

From a writer’s standpoint, this creative, hands-on approach really allows you to explore and see your story in a whole new light, while spending time with your characters.

I also have a collage to help me exercise. Like many office jobs, I spend hours sitting at the computer–only I don’t have a time clock telling me to take breaks or when to quit, and I can spend 10 solid hours sitting on my derriere, lost in another world as my circulation slowly trickles to a stop ( ack!).  Some friends and I started a phone-party-line walking group, and to kick us off, we went through our favorite clothing catalogs and made a collage of all the clothes (and shoes!) we’d like to get when we hit our goals.  We have them on the wall beside our treadmills.

 See it – Believe it – Live it

Before I published I would print out these fancy dream signature lines with the titles of my to-be published books beneath my name and would tape them around my computer monitor as a way to visualize my goal–of course all twelve of my finished manuscripts were listed 

Always dream BIG

Much has been written about women who traversed the continent by wagon train as well as those who were mail-order brides. But there’s a less well-known, more unique, and equally important percentage of young women who blazed a trail of civilization from east to west coast. These were the Harvey Girls. 

As the railroad charged across the west, little thought was given to the comfort of passengers. Food was inedible or lethal and service sloppy. Some café owners even went in cahoots with railroad crews and scammed passengers: No sooner was the food placed before the patrons who had paid half a dollar in advance, than the whistle would toot. Afraid of being left behind, passengers ran for the train and the food was “recycled” for the next trainload of unsuspecting victims. 

Fred Harvey, an Englishman, worked his way up in fine eating establishments in the East before trying his hand at a partnership that failed. After brief service on a riverboat and a stint as a postal worker, he sold advertising for a newspaper and invested in cattle ranching, finally deciding while working as a freight agent that there was a crucial need for improved food and service along the rails. Harvey negotiated with Santa Fe Railroad and built his first dining operation in a wooden depot in Topeka. The premises were spotlessly clean. Premium prices were paid for top-quality supplies and ingredients, and table settings included Irish linens and English silver.

Harvey’s standards brought instant and overwhelming success. At his second establishment, a restaurant-hotel at Florence Kansas, he hired a chef away from Chicago’s Palmer House Hotel and paid him a $5,000 salary, more than the local bankers earned. The little town of Florence became famous for its Harvey House meals. Uniforms, fingernails, place settings, food lockers, and all facilities came under stringent regulations.

Harvey, perfecting the Sudden Unannounced Visit as a means of quality control, would suddenly appear and conduct a white-glove inspection, tossing an offending manager out onto the platform at the least infraction. 

New Harvey Houses opened up at the division/meal-stop points, and by 1883, Harvey was operating seventeen establishments along the old Santa Fe Trail. The restaurants made a profit despite their devotion to quality food, generous portions, and elegant furnishings.

The only drawbacks to their success were the staffs of unreliable male employees who either showed up for work hung over or were injured in brawls. In 1883 Harvey implemented a policy that would be his greatest impact on the American West.

Advertisements appeared in several eastern and Midwestern papers: 

WANTED: Young women, 18 to 30 years of age, of good character, attractive and intelligent. 

Harvey hired waitresses the same way he’d set about locating the finest food, furniture, chefs and managers. Women were screened with the same perfectionist methods. Upon signing a contract (twelve months in the early days), she usually had twenty-four hours to tell her family good-bye and begin rigorous training in Newton, Kansas. 

Between 1883 and the 1950’s, tens of thousands of women applied and learned “the Harvey way”. The first women answering the ads had many motivations for doing so, financial reasons most prevalent: Starting out, they were paid $17.50 per month, plus tips, room and board, and unsurpassed meals. 

Though black and white uniforms, black shoes and stockings, hairnets, and no make-up were intended to diminish their appearance, the Harvey girls were the best “dishes” the dining halls served up for the frontier men. The girls were friendly faces in an often lonely land. 

Most dormitories had a courting parlor where gentlemen could call, plus a sewing room. The girls were among the best paid and best dressed females in their towns. Many, being farmers’ daughters, sent earnings home to their families. 

The women worked their way up from the lunch counter to the dining hall and earned promotions or transfers to other houses along the Santa Fe. They worked six- and seven-day weeks, often twelve hours a day in split shifts around meal trains. When not serving, they cleaned and polished and kept their station ready for the next train. 

When they did have free time, they rode the rails free, visiting family, or played softball. Some Harvey Houses had their own teams that traveled up and down the line competing in other towns. 

A Harvey House was a social and business gathering place. Many real and imagined romances were spawned in the elegant setting. Countless contracts were broken and pay forfeited when Harvey Girls met and married railroad men, cattle ranchers, and businessmen.

The impact of these “good, attractive, and intelligent” women on the towns they poured into shouldn’t be underestimated. As approximately 5,000 of them married and raised families, eastern culture and civic improvement spread throughout Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California, and eventually the rest of the states.

These were the women in the forefront of the law and order movements, improving safety and quality of life. Their voices were the ones heard in civic activities, church choirs, and community stage productions. The Harvey Girls who married and settled in the West tended to marry men of high standing and to be the most capable women in the community. It’s been claimed that thousands of boys born to these couples bore the names Fred or Harvey or both. More so than dining experiences and service standards, Harvey’s most profound contribution to the civilization of the American West was the advent of the Harvey Girl. They worked hard, but with dignity and a sense of purpose. They were professionals worthy of respect and admiration. 

Many Harvey Houses survived the great depression o the 30’s, and as part of the war effort, Harvey Girls served thousands of troops during WW II. The disappearance of Harvey Girls is historically linked to the extremes of war and to progress in the form of automobiles and airplanes, an appropriate and worthy end to the legendary women who settled the West. 

Will Rogers, western philosopher and humorist, recognized the contribution of the Harvey Girls with this: “In the early days the traveler fed on the buffalo. For doing so, the buffalo got his picture on the nickel. Well, Fred Harvey should have his picture on one side of the dime, and one of his waitresses with her arms full of delicious ham and eggs on the other side, ‘cause they have kept the West supplied with food and wives.”

I’ve written three books with Harvey Girls as characters, and I still find them as fun and interesting as always.  Many people remember the movie with Judy Garland, which was actually set toward the very end of the era, and much liberty was taken with that storyline. 

Harvey Girls are perfect material for heroines because they’re adventurous and out of their element in a new land.  Can you imagine, as a young woman, leaving your family behind, traveling to a rugged part of the country, and working in such a disciplined atmosphere?  Your needs would be provided for, you’d be supervised, and you’d probably send your wages home to help out the family.  Of course, you just might meet a studly cowboy–with a heart-stopping mustache, of course–and live happily ever after!