Country Churches

Courting the Country Preacher: What does traditional publishing look like to an Indie Author?

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Burlap background with pumpkins and leaves at side. Cover of Courting the Country Preacher. Text, "What does Traditional Publishing Look Like to an Indie Author? Guest post by Kari Trumbo, Petticoats & Pistols"

Hello everyone! It’s so good to be back in the stable temporarily. I’ve missed you all.

Karen asked me shortly after I stepped away if I wanted to blog at all in the coming year. At that time, I knew I had this release coming out (that’s one good thing about traditional publishing, I know WELL in advance of a release) that I had this book coming!

This is a book that I’d been talking about for a long time and finally, my friend Carolyn Miller contacted me and basically said, “let’s stop just talking about this and find two other authors to do it.” I had the time in my schedule (weird, I know) and I was excited.

It took a little while to find two other authors who also had time in their schedules (more normal people, lol) but then the discussion really started. We decided this would be historical and we like the idea and the tension of a bachelor country preacher finding love either by the push of his congregation, one member, or by the woman herself. It was really fun bouncing ideas around.

 

Coffee, laptop, and hand writing on paper with image of book cover by Kari Trumbo

 

Since I was the only author who hadn’t yet published with Barbour, I had to write my first chapter to submit with the proposal. So, not only did I have to write a one page synopsis of the story, I had to have a nearly perfect, compelling chapter one. I was worried that if my chapter didn’t do it, I could blow the whole project for everyone else.

It took six months to hear back from my agent that we had gotten the contract. In that time, I’d written four indie books. I could barely remember what I’d plotted. Thankfully, I kept good notes. Since I’m a fast writer, I wrote that 30,000 word story in four days (minus the first chapter, which was already done). Then, unlike when I indie, I let it sit. It wasn’t due back to the publisher for six months, so I wanted to return to it and not remember what I’d written when it came time for a read-through.

 

Hand with watch

 

A few months later, we got the mockup for the cover. I already knew that I wouldn’t really be all that involved in the cover creation process, but Barbour did allow us to make suggestions (the church in the background didn’t have a steeple at first). But it was so lovely, I had no real changes to suggest. I’ve been blessed to have two amazing covers for my traditional books.

 

Cover of Courting the Country Preacher by Kari Trumbo. Woman wearing tan dress from late 1800s and man wearing country hat with church in background

 

It was due in February, so in January, I opened the document and did some deep editing. I wanted it to shine for the editorial team so they would like me and hopefully take future work from me. In the end, my editor loved the story. One funny thing I wasn’t expecting was four rounds of edits in a week and a half. I expect that from indie, but I always expect traditional publishing to be slow. In my case, it was not. I was exhausted after those ten days.

I didn’t receive the galley copy (the final read through copy) for a few months after the editing stage. That was a wow moment for me because they do it differently from Harlequin. You literally get to see the fun fleuron (graphic separating a scene) and the chapter header images. Barbour did such a beautiful job. I was blown away.

I printed out my section, did my final read through and sent it back, knowing the next time I would see it would be when it came to me in a box of books from the publisher. As of writing this blog, I haven’t gotten my author copies yet.

I WISH I could describe to you what that is like. I’ve only experienced it with Harlequin. When that box is sitting there and you know what’s in it, something wells up inside you. It isn’t pride, it isn’t joy, it’s more pure than either of those. You’ve done something God asked you to do and in that box is the proof. I cried like a baby the first time I opened one of those boxes and I’m not too proud to say so.

By the time you read this (I wrote this in early September after seeing Karen, Winnie, and Mary at the ACFW conference in New Orleans) I should have my author copies of the book. I would LOVE to offer a signed copy to one commenter (in the US or Canada only, please) outside of those areas, I’ll buy an eBook copy for you and send that. I apologize in advance. I know that’s unfair.

Here is the back cover copy, so you’ll know if you want to enter:

Every Preacher Needs a Wife, Right?

Being a preacher in the countryside is not for the faint of heart nor faith. Four inexperienced preachers face a myriad of challenges including those who figure a man of the cloth needs a wife. Can they meet the expectations of “helpful” congregants and be true to their hearts?

The Mountie’s Rival by Angela K Couch
Canada, 1907 — Tired of living in his twin’s shadow, Jonathan Burton is frustrated to find himself serving as a still wet-behind-the-ears preacher in the same community as his Mountie brother. How is he to find a wife when all the eligible women of the community seem enamored by his dashing brother in scarlet uniform?

Convincing the Circuit Preacher by Carolyn Miller
Australia, 1863 — As soon as Dorothea Maclean saw the country preacher, she knew Mr. Hammill was the man of her dreams. Now she just needs to convince her wealthy parents—and Mr. Hammill.

The Angel and the Sky Pilot by Naomi Musch
Minnesota, 1905 — A preacher with a checkered past sets off to win souls in the lumber camps like the “sky pilots” before him. But can he earn the respect of hard-living men—and still respect himself—after a local trader’s daughter joins the all-male congregation?

Mail Order Minister by Kari Trumbo
South Dakota, 1889 — Olive’s parents mail-ordered a preacher and prayed he’d be a husband for their daughter. The rest of the town—and Olive—have other ideas.

Purchase Courting the Country Preacher

To enter the drawing, tell me what you love most about your preacher or minister.

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Kari Trumbo is an international bestselling author of historical and contemporary Christian romance and romantic suspense.

She loves reading, listening to contemporary Christian music, singing when no one’s listening, and curling up near the wood stove when winter hits.

She makes her home in central Minnesota—where the trees and lakes are plentiful—with her husband of over twenty years, two daughters, two sons, a few cats, and a bunny who’s the star of one of her books.

 

A Journey and Lessons Learned

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Yesterday, I returned from a journey to Iowa. I didn’t visit where I grew up, but rather the northeastern Iowa farm where my mom was born and the small northeastern town nearby. I spent a large part of my childhood there and created so many memories. It’s also where my remaining family lives. I was there to bury my parents’ ashes in the cemetery with six generations of my mother’s family resides.

My grandparents’ farm in Decorah, Iowa

The journey wasn’t easy, and thank you to fellow filly Cathy McDavid, who said traveling the end of life journey with our parents could either be a blessing or a difficulty. She helped me realize I controlled which of these this trip would be. I left Texas for Iowa determined that my trip would be a blessing. And it was. In more ways than I could’ve imagined.

 

 

Decorah farm

 

My dear Uncle Wayne, the youngest of my mother’s siblings, who sat me on a neighbor’s horse and walked me around the pasture, said something profound that has also changed my life’s perspective. He told me he’d heard a quote about how we put a person’s birth and death date on their tombstone separated with a dash. The quote talked about that the dash mattered most because it represented what came between our birth and death. He then said we need to make the most of the dash in our lives.

After a quick search, I discovered came from a poem by Linda Ellis.

?I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone.
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.”
? Linda Ellis, Live Your Dash: Make Every Moment Matter

“Your life is made of two dates and a dash. Make the most of the dash.”
? Linda Ellis

We all need to make the most of the dash in our life.

Dash buttonTo me that says, be kind where I can, even if it’s something simple like holding the door for someone, flashing a smile, or saying hello. Even in places where they don’t do that like my Aunt Margaret, Wayne’s wife, did. (She told me a story about doing so in a not so great NYC neighborhood.) I hope I can have her courage in those moments.

I want to make the most of the dash by standing up for those who need another voice to argue against injustice and bullying. I hope to be honest, but not brutal or cruel. I want to forgive because as my Uncle Wayne said with his take on the Nelson Mandela quote, “Not forgiving is like taking poison and expecting someone else to die.” Yup. Holding a grudge and refusing to forgive hurts the one carrying the anger.

Be kind

I want to make the most of the dash, by being there for my children when they need me or me to do something fun. It doesn’t matter that they’re grown. I also need to maintain the connection with my remaining family in Iowa. They will help me make the most of the dash because they fill a hole in my heart and soul I didn’t know I had in my heart. Those aunts, one uncle, and cousins along with my relatives buried in that small Burr Oak, Iowa cemetery, played a huge role in who I am today, and I am incredibly grateful.

I hope my tombstone says that I made the most of the dash or at least she tried to.

 

Giveaway:  To be entered in today’s random giveaway for the Spooky Season T-shirt and signed copy of Family Ties, leave a comment on what you think people can do to make the most of the “dash” in their lives.

 

The Charm of a Country Church by Pam Crooks

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Fifteen minutes from our cabin at the lake, a quaint Catholic church resides amongst sprawling corn fields in eastern Nebraska.  If not for our son-in-law, an avid bicyclist who loves to ride miles and miles on gravel roads in the middle of nowhere, we would never have known Sacred Heart Church existed.  He was quick to text me a picture.

I fell in love.

Shortly thereafter, we drove out to see this adorable place of worship. The countryside was blissfully hushed, with only the rustling leaves on the soon-to-be-harvested corn stalks breaking the solitude. Though the sign states Sacred Heart Church – Cedar Hill, well, there is no Cedar Hill in Nebraska.  Not anymore.

However, there was once, back in 1872, when it was a tiny farming community that boasted a blacksmith shop, a post office, and a general store.  The townspeople hoped Union Pacific would lay track nearby and help them grow.  Unfortunately, track was laid farther north, and the little town eventually withered away.  But the church’s name remained.

Established in 1879, Sacred Heart Church – Cedar Hill was built in a field where the corn had been burned before the original 40′ x 60′ structure was erected.  The charred stalks can still be seen in the church’s crawl space to this day.

In later years, a bell tower and new entrance was added, as well as a sacristy and sanctuary.  Next door, an adorably cozy church hall was festively decorated for autumn and ready for donuts on its designated Sunday after Mass. Charmingly, the hasp on the door was held in place by a plastic spoon lest the wind catch the door and fling it wide.  The church remains a beloved parish for the little towns surrounding it, an astounding 142 years later.

But I digress.

Fast forward to the present and my arrival to Sacred Heart Church.  I couldn’t leave without seeing more, and I boldly walked up the narrow sidewalk and past the sign displaying the days and times of the Masses held every month.  Unbelievably, the door was unlocked, and I went inside.

My heart melted at the sight before me.  Colorful, clean and tidy, and lovingly decorated with flowers of the season, an array of beautiful statues stood in humble reverence to our Lord.  The altar drew me, as did the peace.  I couldn’t stop staring.  Or taking pictures.

 

Nor could I leave without spending time in the front pew, in quiet prayer.  I wanted to linger longer, but my husband and our dog waited by the car after a little outdoor exploring of their own.  After I left, still not quite believing there was no locks on the doors, we drove a short distance down a well-cared for gravel road, a path literally hewn through the corn field.

Behind the church, a cemetery appeared, and again, we parked and left our car to explore. I’ve always had a certain fascination with cemeteries and the wealth of history quietly contained in them.  I wondered about those who made their final resting place there, how they lived, how they died, some too young, some surprisingly old.

A meandering stroll down the rows and between the graves revealed Bohemian-Moravian immigrants born in the 1800s.  Many of their headstones were engraved in their native language.  Babies rested with their aged parents.  My imagination ran rampant with how drastically their lives would have changed after arriving in America and the strange place called Nebraska.  Yet they stayed, they worked, they prospered.

 

And they fought to keep America free.  Newer headstones, recently etched, revealed soldiers who enlisted in various branches of the military throughout various wars.  A flag blowing above the corn stalks is a symbol of the patriotism that still runs strong here.

 

 

On this Veterans Day, my visit to this little country church and cemetery couldn’t have been more timely.  Reluctantly, we left, my heart full, my pride strong, and my resolve fervent to come back again soon.

Note: Sincere thanks to Cecilia Hall, great-granddaughter of early Moravian settlers to Cedar Hill, for sharing her enthusiasm and knowledge as I wrote this article. Cecilia and her family still attend Sacred Heart Church. Her devotion to her heritage and her little country church was inspiring and joyful.

Do you have a veteran or two in your family? 

Tell me about him or her or them, and you could win a 3′ x 5′ American flag!

Pole not included.  US winners only.

Chapel Cars

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Photo WG2 smallHi!  Winnie Griggs here.  The past several weeks have been over the top busy for me – I’ve got TWO book deadlines in March and I’m the coordinator for a writer’s conference that falls the weekend of March 6th.  So, with apologies to all of you wonderful readers, I’m going to reprise and older post for you today.  And to make up for my shameless lack of originality, I’m going to give one of today’s visitors who leaves a comment here their choice of any book on my backlist.

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In trying to come up with a topic for today’s post I pulled up my lagniappe file.  That’s the folder where I stash all the interesting stories and factoids I come across during research – the unexpected little tidbits that have nothing whatsoever to do with my actual story need, but that spark my imagination and get my ‘what if’ meter vibrating big time.

The piece that jumped out at me this time was an article I came across when researching circuit preachers for a minor story thread in one of my books.  The article talked about a very unique tool utilized by missionaries who were attempting to do their own brand of ‘taming the west’ – namely Chapel Cars.

These were railroad cars that were modified to serve as traveling churches.  They road the rails from town to town, diverting to sidings for as long as they were needed, then moving on to the next stop.  These cars were outfitted with very modest living quarters for the missionary and perhaps his wife.  The rest of the space was utilized for church services.

Interior

Most western movies and tales glorify the gun-toting lawman or vigilante, portraying them as the tamers of the wild and wooly west.  In actuality, the peace-minded missionaries who road the rails played a larger part in bringing peace to the lawless west than any of their more aggressive counterparts.  They traveled in their mobile churches to remote areas of the country, bringing spiritual direction and a civilizing influence to people who were starved for something to offset the violence and loneliness of their existence.

These Chapel Cars traveled throughout the west and midwest – including North Dakota, Nevada, Minnesota, California, Louisiana, Texas, Oregon and Colorado.  They stopped at mining towns and logging camps, tent cities and newly established towns, bringing their gospel message and the reminder of civilization to people who had seen neither for a long time – if ever.

Chap car Int01

And, given the unfettered existence of those in the camps and towns, their appearance was surprisingly well received more often than not – especially by the ladies of the area.  The arrival of these Chapel Cars signaled not only the chance to attend Sunday services, but brought with them someone to perform weddings, funerals, baptisms and also a welcome excuse for social gatherings.  In addition, many a rough and tough cowboy who would have balked at attending a traditional church seemed to feel differently about these side rail services.  In fact, the very novelty of the Chapel Car brought folks from miles around just to have a look.

Of course, they didn’t always receive a warm welcome.  There are recorded instances of the Chapel Cars being pelted with eggs and refuse, defaced with graffiti and even set on fire.  But these were rare instances and the cars and their custodians survived to continue their mission.

 

These repurposed rail cars were furnished with pews, a lectern, an altar table and in some cases an organ.  Depending on the construction, they could seat over 70 people inside.  The Chapel Car was a multipurpose unit, serving as a home, church, Sunday School, social hall, library and meeting place.  They carried bibles and tracts which were distributed all along the lines.  The missionary and his wife, in addition to their usualExterior ministerial duties, were expected to function as singer, musician, janitor and cook.  They helped organize permanent churches, including raising the necessary funds and helping to construct the buildings.

There are records to support the existence of eleven Chapel Cars in all, though there is some evidence there may have been as many as seventeen.  Of the eleven known cars, three were utilized by Catholics, seven by Baptists and one by the Episcopalians.

Chapel cars remained in use throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  With the advent of World War I, however, the railroad tracks had to be kept clear for troop movement.  In addition, new regulations prohibited the railroad companies from giving ‘free rides’ to the Chapel Cars, something that had been common practice up until that time.  And as paved roads and the automobile became more prevalent it became easier for folks to travel longer distances on their own to attend church.  Thus, the Chapel Cars that had brought their spiritual message and civilizing influence to the rough and tumble west faded into history.

 

So, what is the most memorable place where you’ve attended a church service and what made it memorable for you?

After Christmas Specials

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I’m not big into shopping after Christmas. I’d much rather stay home with my family, having days filled with pajamas, board games, puzzles, and cross-stitch. But . . . if the sale comes to me through an online ad, and I can take advantage of it while my hair is a mess and I’m still in PJs? Well, those are hard to resist.

Two of my books are on sale today, so I thought I would bring the special to you. No shower required. Ha!

Both A Tailor-Made Bride (my first published novel) and Stealing the Preacher (the story of a preacher and an outlaw’s daughter) are on sale today for only $1.99. This price is valid for all e-book types (Kindle, Nook, etc.) If you click on the covers below, the link will take you to the Amazon version.

TailorMadecover1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And what’s shopping without a little Christmas music playing in the background? I thought I’d include one of my favorite groups singing Angels We Have Heard on High in a small 19th century church, similar to the one I imagined Crockett Archer preaching in. Hope you enjoy.

May you and your family have a blessed Christmas season.

Small Country Church – Big Community Impact

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During the 1800s, the majority of Americans still lived in rural, agriculturally-centered communities. Towns were small. Farms and ranches spread over hundreds of acres which oftentimes separated neighbors by miles. Isolation was a way of life for many families. Yet humans long for connection, for belonging. And the harsh circumstances of pioneer life often necessitate a dependence on others. Neighbor wives were often called upon to deliver babies or provide food when a woman became ill. Men relied on their nearest neighbors to help bring in crops or butcher hogs. All of this required community. And how was community built and nurtured? Through the small country churches.

They might seem like they were built out in the middle of nowhere, but these country churches were strategically located to enable the most families to be able to attend. Some families lived a day or more away from the nearest town, so giving up two days a week, one being a workday, to travel to church wasn”t feasible. Therefore, churches were planted in locations where rural families would only have to travel a couple hours at most each way.

People gathered at these churches not only to worship, but for community meetings and events, for burials, and for weddings. They fostered friendships and commitment to the local community.

In today”s society, the country church is losing its significance. Fewer communities are rural-based these days with most populations having moved into towns and cities. Ease of transportation has also impacted the survival of these landmarks. Yet some country churches are still hanging on.

My husband and I attend a small country church on the outskirts of Abilene, TX in the farming community of Hamby. A few years back we celebrated the congregation”s 100th year with a grand celebration. We continue to have potlucks or “dinner on the ground” every couple months, everyone knows everyone else, and everyone chips in whenever there is a need among the members. It”s like a little piece of history that I am happy to keep alive.

Click here to order from Amazon.

My latest book, Stealing the Preacher, centers around just such a country church. Joanna Robbin”s beloved church building has stood empty for two years without a minister, and she longs to bring it back to life. The community needs it. She needs it. But most of all, her unbelieving father needs it. Little does she know that, thanks to an offhand comment she made, her ex-outlaw daddy has decided to break out the old face-hiding bandannas and kidnap her a parson from the local rail line. Crockett Archer might have been stolen, but Joanna can”t shake the feeling that God intended him for her church. Can she convince Crockett that he ended up right where he belongs?

Questions for you:

* Have you ever attended a small country church?

* Do you have a country church in your community? Is it abandoned or still going strong?

And don”t miss out on the Kindle Fire giveaway with my Author Chat Party on Facebook! It”s going to be a lot of fun! Enter today for a chance to win…


Enter Today – 5/30 – 6/18!
 stealing the preacher karen witemeyer kindle fire Giveaway