Image from Library of Congress
Have you ever heard of a dime novel? We have them to thank for paperback fiction today! By the mid 1800s, there likely wasn’t anyone who hadn’t read—or owned quite a few—dime novels. Spanning across what we now call genres, these stories had something for any reader: Sports, mystery, romance, adventures…and they were also portable, paperback, and not so large and heavy they couldn’t be put into a pocket.
The books were bound with cheap paper, only about 100 pages, and had (usually) a colorful cover to entice a reader to choose it.
Do you know who the largest collector of these books is? It’s the Library of Congress! They have over 40,000, including some very special ones, like this Louisa May Alcott one, one of only two copies known to exist!
Unlike today, where there’s no stigma when it comes to reading fiction, back then there was. The reader of these books, especially for those who were middle class or middle aged, didn’t typically admit that they read these books. Dime novels were meant to be entertainment, and not considered to have any literary value in them.
The romance titles often featured a working class woman finding romance with a wealthy man, two individuals fighting against all odds to make a relationship work, and a happily ever after. Sounds like what we are still writing and reading nowadays, when it comes to romance, doesn’t it?
Of course, there were other beloved books as well, and in Alyssa’s Desperate Plan, reading actually plays a pretty important role in the story because one of the characters has a secret, when it comes to reading. Dime novels weren’t the only stigma when it came to enjoying a book. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but I would love to share the first chapter!
Chapter 1
Deepwater, Missouri 1870s
“Yer too small on the top. I want a bigger woman.”
Alyssa Moore felt her jaw drop. She blinked a few times trying to collect herself, then frowned. Had she misheard? Surely, she had.
She’d traveled for nearly a week to get to the town of Deepwater after accepting a match from the mail-order bride agency. They had a success rate of ninety-four percent, she’d been assured. A match and true love was promised to her just around the corner, with one Mr. Gerald Weatherbee.
Truthfully, she didn’t care about the true love part, she just wanted security and stability. Which was apparently being yanked out from under her feet.
“What…did you say?” Alyssa’s voice was hushed. She wasn’t sure if she was shocked or angry or both.
“Yer…” the man waved his hands around, mimicking a crude shape of a woman’s curves, “too small. I like my women big, like me.”
“And what am I to do, then?” Alyssa asked. Humiliation burned through her. “We signed a contract.”
“Ain’t signed a marriage certificate,” the man chuckled. “I’m within my right to reject you.” He checked his pocketwatch and shook his head. “I’ve got another girl coming. Good luck.” He snorted then. “You need it, as itty bitty as you are. Maybe you can find a husband who doesn’t have good eyesight.”
“Why, I never!” Alyssa gasped as the man hefted his bulk from the chair and left the room, a rather rank smell coming from him.
Perhaps she should be grateful. After all, marrying a pig farmer wasn’t exactly what she wanted for herself, but choices were slim, the agency apologized. Had she not been so desperate, she’d have waited longer for someone better.
Now what was she to do? She wasn’t married, had no money beyond a few dollars the agency had given her, and was stuck in this small town.
Alyssa closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, straightened her shoulders, and snatched up her carpetbag. “I’ll just contact the agency,” she said, sounding more positive than she felt. “They’ll set things right. Maybe this time, I’ll find someone better. Who knows, this might turn out to be a fortunate situation.”
The idea filled her with fortitude, and she strode out of the small shed that served as the stage station, and headed to the town beyond.
Then she stopped.
Who could help her get a message to the mail-order bride agency? How did they send letters in this town?
Biting her lip, she looked around. Thankfully, though the area was filled with tall pines and oaks, there was enough of a clearing where the town was so everything was out in the open. Deepwater wasn’t large. She could likely find where to go.
Alyssa studied the area. Nearby appeared to be a café. A general store was close to it, as was a dressmaker and a shoemaker. There were other small buildings and she wasn’t sure what they were, but they had signs out and large shop windows.
Taking a deep breath, Alyssa slowly walked down the street. She was so busy looking into each of the windows, hoping to spot a post office inside, she bumped into someone.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Alyssa said.
“Not a problem,” a man replied.
He started to walk away when Alyssa called to him. “I need to send a letter. Do you know where I can do that?”
“Sure, we’ve got a post office,” the man said, and pointed to a row of buildings.
Alyssa bit her lip. “I…I’m sorry. Which one?”
“The one with the blue door,” the man said.
Nodding, Alyssa said, “Thank you,” and continued. When she reached the building, there was a paper on the door. She squinted at it, then tried the handle. The door was locked. Frowning, she looked around.
“He’ll be back soon, love,” a woman called as she headed to the café. “Peter usually takes his lunch about now.” She pointed to the sign. “He’ll be back in about a half hour.”
“Thank you,” Alyssa said. She sighed in frustration. “Fine. I guess a half hour won’t make much difference.”
At the other end of the street, she could see a small patch of trees, and what appeared to be a stream. It looked like a nice place to rest. It was certainly better than hovering outside of the post office and drawing attention to herself. She was feeling self-conscious after being rejected.
As Alyssa walked toward the stream, in the distance she saw the man who’d just insulted her and put her into this unexpected position.
Anger bubbled up, fueling her steps with a speed she was surprised she could do in her long skirts. The stream drew closer in her anxiousness to hide, and she wondered if the water would be cool enough to calm her heated face, and clean enough to drink.
She was so focused on the water, Alyssa didn’t notice anything else but the large, flat rock where she set her bag down. She knelt, leaning toward the water, and dipped her fingertips into the stream. It was just as she’d hoped. Cool and clear. It would likely taste that way too. She moved closer and was about to reach her cupped hands into the water when there was a shout, and she felt herself grabbed from behind.
Alyssa screamed, twisted away, and pitched forward. Just before she fell into the water, a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back, dragging her onto the bank.
“Let me go!” she shrieked as she tried to regain her footing. “What are you doing?”
Alyssa struggled and then broke away as the arms loosened, and the bewildered expression of a man stared at her. He blinked and his mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
It was all too much. First, she’d been rejected. Now, some crazy man was trying to throw her into the stream! What was with this town? The sooner she got out of here the better. Alyssa’s face grew hot with anger, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Her too small chest, evidently, and scowled.
“Well? I’m waiting for an answer,” she snapped. “Why were you trying to push me into the stream? Is everyone in this town going to be horrible to me?”
If you’d like to keep reading, and find out what happens to Alyssa, who the man gaping at her is, and just how important reading is to this story, you can find it by clicking right here on this underlined sentence, to head to Amazon.
And since we are talking about books, what’s one you are reading right now?
When we think of the western frontier, few of us picture a young woman seated at her desk, 
studying English grammar, yet many would argue that the West was shaped as much by education as by anything else. Thus, when I learned of the pioneering institution known at its inception as the Young Ladies’ Seminary in Benicia, California, I was immediately intrigued. Established in 1852, it was the first school of higher learning created for women west of the Rockies and continues today as Mills College.
California’s capital. According to the school’s early catalogues, its aim was “to train healthy, companionable, self-reliant women—those prepared to be useful and acceptable in the school, in the family, and in society.” To that end, the teachers deemed it important for their students to “be able to spell correctly, to read naturally, to write legibly, and to converse intelligently.” The young ladies of the school performed regular recitations at which family and select members of the public were often invited to attend. In addition to an English course of study, the school offered what they called “ornamental branches” of study which included “instrumental music (pianoforte and guitar), drawing, crayoning, painting (in water colors and oils) and ornamental needle work.” (Keep, 1931)
Initially many of the school’s students came from the nearby cities such as San Francisco, Marysville, Sacramento, and Stockton, but most came from Mother Lode camps such as Hangtown, Park’s Bar, Rough and Ready, Angels Camp, and more. A few students also came from the southern part of the Golden State, which is where my heroine, Clarinda Humphrey, hails from in my novel, Sing in the Sunlight. Keeping in mind the incredible fluctuation of fortunes and social status going on in California during this time period, the idea of young women from such varied backgrounds coming to Benicia to learn and live beneath the same roof is fascinating. What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall of the Young Ladies’ Seminary in those early days.
As a contemporary romance author, my research is different from historical authors. For the third book in my Wishing, Texas Series, To Tame A Texas Cowboy, my research topics included seizure treatment/causes, service dogs and veterinarian office software. As a result, I don’t often come across cool historical tidbits to share with you the way Petticoats and Pistols historical authors often do. But recently, I came across a Facebook post about librarians on horseback. Considering my love of books and horses, I couldn’t resist learning more.
The Pack Horse Library program was part of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration during The Depression. In 1930’s Kentucky, the unemployment rate was almost forty percent and around thirty percent of the state’s population was illiterate. The hope was The Pack Horse Library program would decrease both these statistics. In addition to these issues, the ten thousand square foot area of eastern Kentucky this program served lagged behind other areas in the state in terms of electricity and highways. Scarcity of food, education and few economic options compounded the problems.
After loading donated books, magazines and newspapers, these librarians set out on their own mules or horses and headed into the mountains. Not an easy task, even when the weather cooperated. But imagine how difficult and treacherous the trip had to be in snowy or rainy conditions. Often the terrain became so rugged or remote, even horses couldn’t travel, forcing the librarians to continue on foot, carrying the books! No matter how cold or bad the weather, these librarians persisted, covering one hundred to one hundred twenty miles a week. One librarian had to complete her eighteen-mile route on foot after her mule died. Now that’s dedication!
This year I had the pleasure of sitting with fellow P&P Author Linda Broday!