Loretta's Musings... - Loretta Marion

The Ghost and Mrs. Marion?

My Personal Experience with the Spirit World...

August 26, 2019

In anticipation of the launch for the second book in the Haunted Bluffs Mystery Series, STORM OF SECRETS, the following is a blog post from a virtual book tour when HOUSE OF ASHES was first released:

I’m often asked about the inspiration for my books and how I come up with story ideas. As observers of the world around us, writers find inspiration everywhere and in almost every person, place or thing. I jot down observations and ideas in one of the many notebooks I keep around my house, in my purse, in the car — if I can’t find a pen and paper when I see something intriguing, it sends me into a panic.

When I first came up with the concept for the story that became HOUSE OF ASHES, a paranormal element was not in the mix. I knew I wanted to weave together a present-day story with a related historic tale, however bringing Percy and Celeste Mitchell back to their beloved Battersea Bluffs as spirits didn’t come to me until after I’d completed the outline. I had the mystery plotted out and was pleased with the characters and their backstories, but as I began to rough out a draft, it just felt like more spice was needed to bring a unique richness to the story.

I turned to my go-to resource: the notebooks. I flipped through the pages of jotted notes, some so hastily written I could barely make them out, searching for another little gem to add. I was about to give up when in the back of one of my oldest writing journals I found a section where I had documented my experiences with Oswin Dickinson.

You may be asking, who is Oswin Dickinson? And I will answer that he was my very own version of Daniel Gregg, the sea captain apparition from the old classic, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947 film that inspired a television series from 1968-1970). I did not live in a seaside cottage, nor was I a widow, and the ghost who visited me was not a sea captain. Instead, he was a Civil War Union soldier.

Newly married, my husband and I had just moved into our first home together. It was a rustic farmhouse and our property abutted a 300-year-old cemetery. Shortly after we moved in, the strange happenings began. Nothing sinister, but enough to make me question how I’d become so distracted. Why did my favorite jeans end up stuffed under the fluffy bath towels in the linen closet? How did my teacup end up on the fireplace hearth when I’d just set it down on the side table with my book? Who hid all my socks? What were those noises in the attic that sounded like someone playing tackle football? I would tentatively walk up the stairs only to find everything quiet and in order. No evidence of a squirrel or bird that somehow found its way in, as my husband had originally suggested. Our dog, Bartleby the bloodhound, began to bark and growl at empty spaces. I’d often find him pacing at the top of the stairs, afraid to come down. On more than one occasion when I walked up to assist him, I passed through a cold mass — of what? — I did not know.

We eventually learned that our neighboring cemetery was listed in an old book of haunted graveyards, and that’s when I decided we were sharing our home with a mischievous old spirit. Then as Bartleby continued to stop and growl at a certain tombstone in the cemetery, I was convinced our uninvited housemate was one Oswin Dickinson. There were other signs pointing to Oswin being our unearthly lodger, such as footprints in the snow that led from our front door to Oswin’s grave, and a sighting by our niece of a man standing in our kitchen, wearing an old-fashioned blue coat.

My husband once joked that Oswin had a crush on me and that’s why he chose our house. This suggestion took me back to my tween years when my mother and I would watch episodes of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir together. The Ghost and Mrs. Marion does not have the same catchy ring to it, but it was a fun little fantasy while it lasted. I did find Oswin to be a pleasant ghost to have around. As I reveal in the acknowledgements in the back of the book – Oswin is the first mention by the way – I’ve found that I miss having him around since moving from our Connecticut home. We even had Oswin’s tombstone added to a painting we commissioned – (see cropped section above) – though we had to forgive the painter’s misspelling of his name.

There are plenty more incidents documented in the back of my old writing journal, but the point is, if I hadn’t kept that journal or documented my experience with our otherworldly visitor, I may not have been inspired to include a ghostly element to the story. HOUSE OF ASHES would have been an entirely different book...or maybe not written at all. So, thank you once again, Oswin Dickinson!

Don't Fail Me Now Nancy Drew!

November 8, 2018

Guest Post by Cassandra Mitchell, Main Character of HOUSE OF ASHES

Don’t Fail Me Now, Nancy Drew!

I love a good mystery. It was my Granny Fi who first introduced me to the sleuthing adventures of Nancy Drew when I was a middle grader. Nancy and I had so much in common. She was a boater and I was practically raised on my father’s sailboat. Nancy also painted, and Mama had me standing at my own easel by the time I was five. No wonder I felt an immediate kinship with this fictional heroine.

I was fascinated by the mysteries that befell Nancy’s small town of River Heights. So much so that I’d invent my own Whale Rock mysteries. Lying on the edge of the cliffs, I’d gaze down at the crashing waves, fantasizing about how I would solve them, just like Nancy had. Of course, the Mitchell family had its own lingering mysteries, not the least of which involved a suspicious fire at Battersea Bluffs. My great-grandfather had leaped off these very cliffs, holding the charred remains of his wife while exclaiming, “I am not finished.” Maybe Granny Fi had distracted me with books so I’d not dwell on my family’s tragic history.

After I’d made my way through the Nancy Drew mysteries preserved from my Granny’s childhood, I discovered The Nancy Drew Files at the Whale Rock Public Library, one of Granny Fi’s legacies. She’d been instrumental in raising the funds to restore the crumbling, old building. I recall her saying, “Whale Rock’s future starts in the library. It’s the heart and soul of our town.” It was for me anyhow. Then during my teen years, I became hijacked by LJ Smith’s The Vampire Diaries and anything written by Christopher Pike. Perhaps it had something to do with the unsettling nature of my family home that drew me to those gruesome horror stories. It had long been rumored that Battersea Bluffs was haunted by the spirits of my infamous great-grandparents, Percival and Celeste Mitchell. Though I rarely talk about it, I can attest to the truth of that rumor. Trust me, the lingering presence of ancestral spirits can get under your skin. Especially back then when I hadn’t understood what messages they were trying to get through to me. I trusted then -and still do- that they mean me no harm, otherwise they’d have done so by now, right? Or am I simply naïve? Regardless, you’ll learn more about them and their calling card scent of burnt sugar when you read the book.

I returned to reading mysteries again in my early twenties. When sorting through Granny Fi’s private library after her death, I found a treasure trove: everything written by Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, Ruth Rendell and PD James. Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca was a favorite – I could tell by the worn cover and bent spine. Apparently, my Granny favored female mystery authors.

It was bittersweet to find bits of my Granny Fi within the pages of the books she so cherished. I’d come across one of her course gray hairs every now and again, notes she’d written to herself in the margins, a rare photograph of my grandfather – the love of her life and one of the Mitchell family tragedies. It was a rare connection, feeling her with me as I turned every page, and a gift my Granny left behind for me.

When I flipped through the pages of the book left on her bedside table, tucked in as a place marker was a delicate lace handkerchief. I brought it to my nose and nearly wept at her familiar lavender scent. I did weep when I realized it was probably the last page she’d ever read, that she died not knowing how the mystery ended.

These discovered books offered an escape, much needed after my parents died so young, and then losing Granny Fi soon afterward. This left me and my older sister, Zoe, as the only remaining Mitchells…the end of a bloodline resulting from a century’s old curse cast upon my great-grandparents. But Zoe was out on the West Coast and had no intention of ever returning to Battersea Bluffs. For some strange reason, she despised our home and the town of Whale Rock. Could it be the unsettling nature in the bones of our ancestral home? I guess you’ll have to read HOUSE OF ASHES to find out.

Knowing Granny Fi would be pleased, I donated the mysteries I could part with to the Whale Rock Library. There I discovered some extraordinary contemporary mystery authors: Elizabeth George, Tana French, Camilla Lackberg, Arnaldur Indridason. I’m also a sucker for a cozy mystery, especially those that take place in New England or near the shore. Water has been such a big part of my life and I seek it out even in my reading.

Now I’m faced with a real-life mystery, just as I’d fantasized about all those many years ago. Ashley and Vince Jacobson were two wandering souls who came into my life at a difficult time and lifted me out of a very dark place. But they are now lost to me – vanished without a trace after setting off on their bikes for a day trip to Provincetown – leaving behind their precious canine companion, Whistler. It has become clear that they are not who they told me they were, and I’m left with only haunting questions: Why would they lie to me? Who were they really? Are they in danger? I can only hope that I’ve absorbed some of the sleuthing skills of Rendell’s Inspector Wexford, Christie’s Miss Marple or Monsieur Poirot and James’ Adam Dalgliesh—because I am desperate to find out what happened to them.

The Ghost and Mrs. Marion?

My Personal Experience with the Spirit World...

August 26, 2019

Don't Fail Me Now Nancy Drew!

November 8, 2018

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