Celia Hayes – The Accidental Texan

So passes another weekend in our grueling schedule of holiday events. Somehow, I didn’t quite grasp until this afternoon that this is the last weekend before Thanksgiving, and that was why there were so many shoppers in the local HEB buying frozen turkeys, trays of bake’n’serve rolls, sweet potatoes, et cetera. Well, of course – since next weekend is our three-day extravaganza in Johnson City, where they ceremonially light the courthouse and Courthouse Square with millions and millions of lights, and have a parade and Santa, and a market and a fair … it’s the kickoff holiday event for the Hill Country, apparently, and we have high hopes for it as far as sales go.
This Saturday was my brief turn at the New Braunfels Weihnachtsmarkt: the cost of an author table has been raised by the management, so I could only justify half a day on Saturday, which experience has taught me is the single busiest session. Since we were halfway to Austin, and a paper supply place my daughter wanted to see first-hand, we toddled on up there, after a moderately successful morning. And then – well, it was just a short jump to the Ikea store in Round Rock. Why not? See what they were putting out for Christmas, pick up some nice-quality items in the kitchenware department, and stock up on frozen Swedish meatballs and lingonberry preserves in the grocery department. We thought perhaps we might have a late lunch in the cafeteria, but it was so late in the day by then, we decided to drive home and make our own supper of them. The meatballs were as scrumptious as ever – and they had a sale on them. Our strategic Ikea meatball reserves are replenished as of this weekend. Although this schedule did push back dinnertime very late last night.

Early on, when sorting out the schedule, my daughter was considering a Sunday market in Giddings to follow on Saturday at the New Braunfels Weihnachtsmarkt, but we decided not to, because of the long drive for a single-day event. Just as well; the bulk brush pickup for our neighborhood has been set for the week after Thanksgiving. Sunday and the first part of the week were the only days that we could see to taking down the dying mulberry tree in the back yard. The original owners of my place planted it, apparently – for it was a lush, mature tree which shaded the whole back of the house, especially in late afternoon. But the local utility company went through about five years ago, clearing away branches from the wires at the wrong time of year. Then the tree was stressed by a couple of drought years, and last year fell to some sort of ghastly tree plague-fungus that was killing the exposed roots, bark and branches of about a quarter of it. Local tree expert consulted, trimmed away some of the dead bark and branches, but didn’t give much hope for long-term survival.

We made the decision that we’d hire the neighborhood handy-guy to bring his chain-saw, ladder and rope, and we would help. So, he knocked the price down on that account, and Sunday was the day that he could work. The tree is now down and the stump trimmed off level, half the yard is deep in bright mustard-colored sawdust, and a couple of trunk segments cut into drums to use as plant stands, and there we are. My daughter and I are totally exhausted. This is the one tree that I have had cut that I will genuinely miss, mostly for the shade it offered the back of the house in the late afternoon. All the others I have paid to be taken down were ones that I hated – especially the overgrown red-tipped photina by the front door that made the den into a dark cave. Now the entire back yard must be re-thought, with accommodation for the chickens, of course. There are certain green plants that they adore and will eat down to the stem – fortunately citrus trees in planters are not one of them, and the citrus plants adore the strong sunshine. I will fiddle with a new garden layout over the next couple of weeks, one which must accommodate voracious chickens and strong late afternoon sunshine. And that was my week – yours?

The first of our Christmas market events was yesterday at the Spring Branch/Bulverde Senior center, which is located on a side street in what passes for downtown Bulverde, Texas … which is not really one of those compact and easily recognizable towns – but rather one of those scattered along a half mile or so of several roads about twenty minutes’ drive north of San Antonio. This is the third year that we have done this event – and it was a good and reassuring start to the season, after a pair of disappointing events last month in Blanco and Johnson City. It is my daughter’s theory – and a good many other venders at those events agreed – people were either uneasy about the election, and not in any mood for Christmas buying. It was our fondest hope that with the election done, and Christmas creeping ever closer … that we would do well at this market.
And we did; I did as well this year in sales as I did at last year, which is pretty good, considering. We had a spot where we could set up three tables in a narrow u-shape, and market my daughter’s Paper Blossom Production Earrings from one side, and my books on the other. There was a good crowd out, and yes, they were in the mood to spend money. I even swapped three books to the vendor next to us in exchange for a covered bowl hand-turned out of local pecan wood – I have been longing for one such, after seeing them offered by woodworkers at other markets, but their prices were always too rich for me. But I liked the covered bowl, and the woodworker’s wife was thrilled to bits to pick out a book each for her daughter, granddaughter and grandson, which were approximately the same value as the covered bowl – so, all happy.

I wore the latest addition to my “author drag” wardrobe; brown poly-wool tweed walking suit, with hat, reticule and shirtwaist, all color-coordinated – and yes, very eye-catching, although the receptionist at the Center related with a giggle, that someone remarked to her that they had just seen Mary Poppins walking in. Another vendor exclaimed that I was just as “cute as a button” – a compliment that I don’t believe has been applied to me since elementary school. The whole thing was eye-catching – as intended – and not all that uncomfortable to wear. So – onto Weinachtsmarkt next weekend in New Braunfels and then to Johnson City for three days the weekend after that.
And The Golden Road is now up at Amazon, for pre-order and release on the 18th. I hope to have the print version available early in December. Fingers crossed…

A few years ago, when I was part of an enterprising indy author support group – which has since run out of steam as those participants have gotten what they needed, (primarily the mutual encouragement in the face of a world somewhat more hostile then to the aspiring independent author, and to share information, talents, and contacts along with the best and most creative strategies for marketing our books) one of the stalwart members had an interesting suggestion for garnering eyeballs at a signing or other book event. He suggested wearing some exotic attire with some connection to one’s book, or books; his own had to do with 19th century China, and he had a set or two of traditional mandarin robes with all the accessories, which he wore to fantastic effect at his local events. We agreed that yes – interesting suggestion, and well worth trying out, if applicable. (Most of us were scribblers of historical fiction in one era or another.) I tried, in a half-hearted way, to do a sort of semi-archaic cowgirl look, with long skirts, ornate boots and a vest, but it really didn’t take with me or with the crowd at book events. It just looked sort of vaguely Westernish by way of bouncing off hippy-chic. It had the virtue of being comfortable … except for the boots, but just really didn’t seem to grab attention at events.

So – on to another iteration of what I have come to call my “author drag.” This inspiration came about at the local Hancock Fabric ‘going-out-of-business-fire-sale’, when I leafed in a desultory manner through the pattern catalog and came up on a pattern for the Edwardian-style walking suit. Hmm, thought I – this has definite possibilities.
My historical fiction books are firmly set in the period from 1825 to 1900, in various locales in Texas and the west. The full hoopskirt and bonnet, or bustle and trailing gown is just not on. For one, in that get-up I could barely fit into the passenger seat of the Montero – our vehicle of choice for hauling stuff to book and market events. (Tubs of books at a minimum, tables, chairs, the pavilion, table dressings and racks at a maximum. Hoopskirt and corset? Helping set up, wearing all that? No … just no.) But a slim skirt and jacket, very much like I used to wear when at the office job, once I retired from the Air Force … OK, so the skirt is ankle-length, but that and a tailored jacket is doable, even accessorized with the requisite hat of flamboyant style and stupendous circumference. Yes … the more I thought about it, the more it seemed doable; comfortable for me, and eye-catching for events. Late 19th century, early 20th, in the style of what would be the everyday dress of those ladies who worked in various capacities at paid employment, like Margaret Becker Vining Williamson with her boarding house … or even those who were often found riding to hounds – like Isobel in The Quivera Trail. Something like a riding habit, perhaps, or a walking skirt … even a plain black dress and white apron, which was Sophie Brewer Teague’s work uniform as a Harvey Girl.

So – this is me, breaking out the sewing machine and cobbling together a small wardrobe of period outfits for my “author drag” wardrobe; dresses, skirts, shirtwaists and jackets, made from fabric bought on sale and stashed away, with the hats and reticules to match: four day outfits in grey, brown, navy-blue and black, with a purple evening gown for those rare night-time events. The sewing machine has not got such a work-out in years, and my hat-making skills are proceeding apace. When you look for me at events – look for the lady in late 19th century period dress. Trust me, you can’t miss the hats.