Sample Saturday, “Les Pensées Dangereuses”

I have shared that I’ve been going through a difficult time of late and that things are getting better. This i another piece of that process.

Deep in my back catalog, there is a book of essays. I called it Les Pensées Dangereuses; the title translates to “dangerous thoughts.” Today, because May is Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to share one of those essays with you. I hope that, if you are struggling, you find something in it that you can use.

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Old coping skills remembered … (Blog, 3/14/05)

As I was working on the kitchen (not where I wanted it but certainly better, and the dishwasher is burbling merrily away), I remembered some things I hadn’t thought about in a while.

Some things that I learned when I had a complete nervous breakdown. (For those of you new to my blog or my life, it happened in 1996 and I still have some residual issues from it, including some agoraphobia).

Things I hadn’t thought about in a while … like “even if it’s small, do something.” By this, I mean take a small action. If the whole picture of a task is overwhelming, break it into individual steps and do the first one. Most of the time, taking the first step creates enough inertia to do some more. But at least take the first step. If that’s enough for today, that’s enough for today.

Celebrate small victories. You left the house when you felt scared to do so. You went somewhere alone: someplace you wanted to go. Rather than stay at home when you couldn’t find a companion, you went. Hurray for you!

Admit that you need some help. See a counselor (doing that). Take meds if you need ’em (primarily sleep issues; meds are periodic at this point).

Be grateful for the wonderful people who love you. Be grateful for the abundance you have; believe it or not, Mom was right when she told you there were people out there worse off than yourself. Every time I’m frustrated by the state of my house, I consider that there are people with no house over which to be frustrated … and I tackle one more little chore.

If you have too much stuff, give some of it away. Jeff and I are planning another enormous donation to the library where our friend works: a little municipal library without much in the way of fancy collections but with a great deal of gratitude for every book given to them. For us, this serves the multipurpose distinction of helping the library and its constituents, but also opening up shelf space for my horse collection … which then opens up floor space in the office/computer room.

Most of all, damn it, celebrate the things you did accomplish rather than looking around and crying about all of the stuff you didn’t get done. I’m not saying you should be like Pollyanna and play the “glad game,” but sometimes looking at everything you didn’t do makes it harder to get up and do some more.
I’ve been through hell lately; I won’t pretend otherwise. Much of it was outside my locus of control; believe me, if I could “fix” Le Petit General, I would. But I can control one thing: my office doesn’t own my soul or my spirit , and I am a better person than to allow them to keep me down. I’ll fix what I can (look for another job while I continue to do my excellent work) and realize that, no matter what they think, I’m better than that.

 

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Sample Saturday: “Highland Fire”

Hi, everyone. Today’s snippet is from my current work-in-progress. As always, this is a very early draft and things may change. Enjoy!

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On the day that each of her grandchildren was born, Alice MacIain Kilgour wrote a prophecy in their baby book. Such books had long gone out of style; as the great grandchildren came along, the physical books were replaced with files on the computer. Still, they each had a prophecy alongside the school photos, birthday e-mails that replaced cards and letters, and the like.

The prophecies were written in what seemed like inscrutable rhyme; sometimes Alice didn’t understand them herself. Then, on the day the prophecies inevitably came to pass, the poem would make sense and everyone would talk about how Nanny Kilgour had The Sight.

Unbeknownst to Nanny’s youngest grandson, Alasdair Kilgour Montgomery, his rhyme was about to be unraveled.

Blogging from A to Z: M is for Murmillo

Suetonius groaned and picked up the heavy wooden practice blade again. His opponent was an older, taller boy whose name escaped him; the two of them were practicing sword drills with double-weight weapons that Valerius knew would make his fighters faster and stronger when the real matches came. Suetonius had been disarmed repeatedly already. His shoulders burned and his arms felt as though they were separate from his body, so sore were they. His tunic was soaked through with sweat, and it seemed that the only part of him that was not in pain was his wavy black hair. Suetonius wore the heavy armor of a Thracian fighter; his opponent was clad as a murmillo. The additional weight of his gear made Suetonius even more tired. — Pompeii Fire

Sharon E. Cathcart

Modern reenactment of a murmillo. Curiosito / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

Since Pompeii has the oldest remaining amphitheatre in Italy, it should come as no surprise that gladiatorial games were held there. The games were immensely popular and sometimes led to local rivalries. In fact, after the games between gladiators from Pompeii and Nuceria in 59 CE, there arose such a riot amongst the fan factions that Tacitus tells us:

About this time there was a serious fight between the inhabitants of two Roman settlements, Nuceria and Pompeii. It arose out of a trifling incident at a gladiatorial show . . . During an exchange of taunts — characteristic of these disorderly country towns — abuse led to stone-throwing, and then swords were drawn. The people of Pompeii, where the show was held, came off best.  Many wounded and mutilated Nucerians were taken to the capital.  Many bereavements, too, were suffered…

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Sample Saturday: “Second Chance in Shalbourne”

Hi, everyone. Today’s snippet is from a work-in-progress. If you read Rose in Bloom, you’ll remember Gareth’s widowed sister, Bronwen. Here, she’s talking to an old flame, Owen, who has come to Shalbourne for work … and he’s definitely not over her.

As always when it comes to WIPs, this is an early draft. Both the text and the concept art may change by the time it’s all done.

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“Bronwen, I loved stone because it was solid and reliable. I still love it for the same reason today. Solid and reliable was about the last thing my family was, but I could depend on the rocks to be there. After all, they’d been there for centuries; they’d be around long after my family and I were all gone.” He turned his dark gaze on me. “And, if I’m to be completely honest, I thought of you the same way. But then you met Tim, and you were gone.”

Sample Saturday: “Bayou Fire”

Hi, everyone. I’m heading back to New Orleans next week for a writer’s conference. So, I thought I’d share a tiny bit from Bayou Fire, which is based on an actual incident that happened there.

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Judge Canonge, Alcide’s superior at the court house, was among the spectators on Hospital Street. When he saw Alcide, he came over to him right away and took the horse’s reins.

“Devereaux, see if you can get in there and do something. I tried, but there was too much smoke. There are people in there; you can hear them screaming. That damn-fool LaLaurie told me it was none of my business when I asked him to help us, and his wife is taking jewels and furs out to her carriage without any slaves except that coachman of hers. It’s very strange indeed.”

Alcide would have hesitated, but then he heard a voice that he knew all too well: Evangeline was screaming from somewhere in that burning building. He slid from his horse, pulling off his coat, and raced inside. Another clerk from Canonge’s office, Felix Lefebvre, was hot on his heels.

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Back cover copy, Bayou Fire:

Diana Corbett’s childhood was plagued by unceasing dreams of smoke and flames. The nightmares went away, until the noted travel writer’s first night on assignment in Louisiana … when they returned with a vengeance. Could the handsome Cajun, Amos Boudreaux, be the key to unlocking the secret of Bayou Fire?

Award-winning author Sharon E. Cathcart presents her first full-length historical paranormal tale, set against the backdrops of modern-day and 1830s New Orleans.

Bayou Fire has received the Crowned Heart, AuthorsDB Silver Medal, and Chill With a Book awards, as well as being long-listed for the 2022 Historical Fiction Company Book of the Year.

 

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