Growing up in southern Appalachia wasn’t easy, so Cent left home as soon as she could, but the post-collegiate happiness she’d expected has never occurred. She can’t find a decent date, much less find that special someone and, after losing her job in a corporate downsize, she’s struggling to meet her most basic needs. Her car has been repossessed, her bills are piling up, and her questionable North Chicago neighborhood is dangerous to navigate.
Returning home to Hare Creek, Tennessee, never crosses Cent’s mind until her Great Aunt Tess contacts her with an offer she can’t refuse. The family’s southern Appalachian homestead must be sold, and Aunt Tess needs someone to clean it up. Cent will have access to Aunt Tess’ garden and truck and can live on the homestead rent-free for as long as it takes. A part-time job is waiting for her as well.
It’s a chance to solve some of Cent’s financial woes, but will her return be enough when evil sets its sights on Embreeville Mountain and the homestead?
Cleaning House is a carefully woven Appalachian tapestry of granny magic, haints, elementals, and the fantastic diversity of the human condition – served with a delicious side of fries and a generous quart of peach moonshine.
Jeanne is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. For a chance to win, enter using Rafflecopter.
Writing What You Know… or Not
If you look up the phrase “write what you know” through your favored search engine, you’ll get a plethora of answers. Yes. No. Don’t ever. Always. Take your pick. It’s sage advice if it works for you. That said, I offer no answer one way or the other, but I can offer you my own experiences, so you perhaps you can decide for yourself.
I’ve been writing since my childhood and publishing for thirteen years, a long time for the former and a while for the latter. I’m going to use numbers and bullets to make my experiences understandable and, hopefully, relatable.
1) The Sisters Series (four titles between 2005 and 2013): This is far-future, alien-worlds Sci-Fi (though some have dubbed it Sci-Fantasy or even Fantasy)
- The gist: In a far-future world, an alien all-female society struggles to live and ally with the severe patriarchal society they developed from
- Was this my known? Um, yeah, actually, but I’m obviously not talking about the Sci-Fi aspect. Looking back… I’m a spousal abuse survivor and began writing this series during that marriage, on the sly because my now ex would have destroyed the work because it gave me joy, because it was my escape. (Note: I’m long past that era of my existence. The effects will never fully go away, but I now live a happy life despite of and in direct spite of what happened. The best revenge is to live happily.)
2) The Surrogate Series (2017 – present with the third title set for a 2019 release) This is far future, alien-world Sci-Fi too.
- The gist: A woman struggles to merge her biological needs with the societal expectations of the world she is thrust into. Bisexuality is the norm in her species. She’s defiant of labels. She wants a family.
- Was/Is this my known? In some ways, yes. I stride numerous lines in my life. I’m the queer parent of three grown children, and I hate labels in general. They set limits and bring expected behaviors with them.
3) The Appalachian Elementals Series (2018 -?) This series is current era paranormal/ contemporary fantasy.
- (The gist thus far) A well-educated, financially-strapped woman returns to the Appalachian Mountains of her birth and raising only to discover her past and future waiting for her.
- Was/Is this my known? Oh, hell yeah. I’m from Appalachia. I’ve lived and worked elsewhere, but now I’m back home— older, wiser, and with an appreciative perspective concerning what I left behind and regained. More to the point, this series is set where I actually live. It’s familiar roads, businesses, and geography. It’s the paths I walk and home with all its imperfections.
So am I writing my known? Yep, always, whether I realized it at the time or not. I believe every writer is, in some form or fashion. It might be snippets of a family member in a character or your own hopes and dreams slipped into an alien culture’s norms. So what’s your known? Are you writing it? Are you writing your past in disguise, your now, or your wishes for the future? Whatever it is, you’re probably in there somewhere.
“Put it out and give me the rest of the pack.”
“Of all the— here!” Cent dropped her pack of Lucky Strikes onto the floor and kicked them under the outhouse door to Pyre. They’re almost gone anyway.It was the middle of the night, and she’d gone to the outhouse to sneak a smoke. One, that was all, and the rush felt so good. It was the best she’d felt in days, and—
“Drop that lit cigarette down the hole. Stowne’s on their way.”
“Dangit.” Cent took a long drag, exhaling as she rose. She couldn’t hide that she’d been smoking again, and—
“Centenary, please come out.” Stowne knocked on the outhouse door.
“I’m busy.”
“We must discuss this.”
“I was just going,” Pyre’s light drifted away.
Coward. Cent tied her robe and stepped out the door. Fall had rolled in early and wet, setting her up for a rough bout of bronchitis that wouldn’t go away. “Fancy meeting you here at two in the morning.” She cleared her throat to stifle its perpetual tickle.
“Centenary.” Stowne folded their arms across their chest. “You should not be out here this time of night, especially in these cooler temperatures.” Stowne held out the quilt from their bed. “You should be inside where it is warm and dry.”
“I had to pee. It’s something Humans need to do regular.”
“There is a night bucket beneath our bed for you to use when the weather is bad.” Stowne caught her before she moved away, wrapping her in the blanket. “You gave Pyre the cigarettes, but where are the matches?”
“You already took my lighter.”
“And I am removing every pack of matches from the homestead.”
“But what if we need to light a new fire?”
“Centenary!” Stowne pointed to where Pyre hovered on the porch. “That is not a legitimate argument.” They lifted her into their arms.
“Put me down.”
“Please see reason.” They turned toward the house.
“Put. Me. Down!” Cent all but fell from Stowne’s arms before they turned her straight. “You and me, we gotta talk about this.”
“About what?” Stowne towered over her. “Your refusal to care for yourself?”
“About the elephant in the dang room!”
“El-e-phant?” Water ran off Stowne’s head as they stared at her. “Those large gray mammals you told me about? There is one in the house? Brownie or Birdie surely would have sounded the alarm if—”
“No, honey. I…” Cent shivered as the rain began falling harder. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
“That is what I wanted when we began this elephant-filled argument.” Stowne walked beside her up the hill, helping her at the slick spots until she was inside the door. “There. Safe and warm.” Stowne unwrapped her blanket and pulled off her rain boots. “Sit. I will stoke the fire and heat water for your tea.”
“Chamomile, please.” Nothing else agreed with her stomach anymore. “And do it over the fire so I can watch. Pretty please?”
“Such simple things bring you pleasure.” Stowne set her favorite earthenware mug on the table beside her chair and another blanket across her lap.
“Tell me a story from our pastlives together.” She watched as Stowne talked and worked, admiring the ever-changing lines of their body. Larger or smaller depending on what was needed, delicate as they poured water over the tea strainer but strong in the way they held the steaming cast-iron kettle without using a potholder.
“Cream and sugar?” Stowne peered up at her.
“Sugar, yes. But cream?” Cent blanched. “But I used to like it, didn’t I?”
“Until this life, yes. And you like it in your coffee now, along with lots of sugar.” Stowne slipped into the kitchen to get the sugar bowl and a spoon from the table, dropping three heaping teaspoons into Cent’s mug and stirring. “There. Now we discuss this elephant.”
“Sit down first, honey. You’re pacing.”
“I cannot help it. I worry.” Stowne turned their rocker to face her. “Tell me why you do not care for yourself like you should.”
“It’s hit the point of why bother.” Cent pointed to the medication bottles beside her. “I take something to sleep. Something for pain. Something for my stomach. Something for— Smoking calms me, all right? It helps with the— I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” Stowne seemed genuinely puzzled.
“This ain’t about dyingif that’s what you’re thinking.” She pulled the blanket higher on her chest and reached for her tea, cursing softly when her hands shook too hard to lift it without spilling it. “I’m afraid of hurting more, of leaving you with horrid memories before I go. Lung cancer is an ugly death.”
“What about the radiation your doctor spoke about?”
“It’ll only delay the inevitable and make me nasty-sick until then.” Cent smiled when Stowne lifted the mug to her mouth. “Thank you.”
“That is why I am here. Never forget that.” Stowne knelt before her. “I will be here the entire time.”
“You’ve never seen me like this.”
“I have watched you die from battle wounds, from Small Pox, and countless other ways. None were attractive, but I have been there every time to walk you across the veil. This will be no different.”
“But I don’t want to leave you alone.” She reached out to stroke Stowne’s face.
“I will wait for your return, same as always.”
“But this land…”
“Yes, there is that.” Stowne kissed her palm. “It must be handed down correctly.”
“I know.” Cent took Stowne’s face into her hands, pulling them up to kiss them firmly on the mouth. “All right. I’ll think on it.”
“Thank you. Does this mean the elephant is gone?”
“Not gone, but it certainly shrank. Take me to bed, baby.”
Born and raised in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Science Fiction and Fantasy author Jeanne G’Fellers’ early memories include watching the original Star Trek series with her father and reading the books her librarian mother brought home. Jeanne’s writing influences include Anne McCaffrey, Ursula K. LeGuin, Octavia Butler, Isaac Asimov, and Frank Herbert.
Jeanne lives in Northeast Tennesee with her spouse, Anna, and their five crazy felines. Their home is tucked against a small woodland where they regularly see deer, turkeys, raccoons, and experience the magic of the natural world.
Author Website: http://jeannegfellersauthor.com/
Author Facebook (Author Page): http://www.facebook.com/Jeannegfellersauthor/
Author Twitter: http://twitter.com/jlgfellers
Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/106949.Jeanne_G_Fellers
Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/jeanne-gfellers/
Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jeanne-GFellers/e/B01N0YWCT7/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
