Amish

Amish vs English

| Amy

I was poking around the internet as I am prone to do searching out a topic for today’s blog post. I came across a site for the PBS special American Experience: The Amish. I’ve seen the show, found it informative and provoking, but that’s not what I want to talk about today.  (for more check out–http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/films/amish/)

On the site, I found a blurb about the show mentioning how the Amish are “rooted in the past.” But what really intrigued me was this question: “What does our fascination with the Amish say about deep American values?”

To me it says a lot.

I have a friend who believes that values and behaviors are like a pendulum that swings back and forth with the ages.  Right now we are flying close to one side and it won’t be long before we swing back the other way to a more conservative time. I’d like to think my friend is right and simpler times are coming. The Amish give us hope that we can survive without all the modern conveniences, that we could go back to a simpler time. And that American values are still there, lurking just underneath the surface, waiting for a chance to be re-discovered.

What do you think? Could you go back to a simpler time?

Count Down to Gideon

| Amy

I think and plan by the day. Okay, sometimes by the week. so I guess it’s not great surprise when something sneaks up on me and I’m caught off guard.

Saving Gideon will be released in 35 days. 35 days!! I. Am. So. Excited. Here’s a little peek at Saving Gideon. Enjoy!

And remember–It can be pre-ordered. :D

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

LifeWay Christian Books

~*~*~*~ An Excerpt ~*~*~*~

Three dogs lay in the sunshine just before the cool, shadowy entrance to the barn—a beagle, a black and white border collie, and a spotty dog she guessed was some sort of heeler.  None of them moved anything save a small wag of their tails as she passed them by.  Her furry friend was nowhere to be seen.

Avery stopped just inside the door, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to her new surroundings.  It was dim even with the top half of the Dutch doors open on the other end.  She could say one thing about the barn…it was neat.   Fresh smelling, clean hay was scattered across the packed dirt floor and perfumed the air as she trod on it.  And it was big, with a trussed roof and expansive loft stretching the length of the barn.  And empty…except for a lone cow in one stall and Molly and Kate housed just to the left and opposite the tack room.

Okay, that was three things, but Avery was so proud of herself for remembering the term “tack room” that she wasn’t keeping count.  She’d had an “uncle” over in Ft. Worth, one of her father’s associates, who had a sprawling ranch with lots of horses and such.  Avery had gone out there once and toured the barn and rode a gentle mare…and she’d loved it.  It was just so far out of Dallas.  She often thought of going again, but there never seemed to be enough time.  There was always a party to go to or a ribbon cutting ceremony or some sort of such.

He was sitting off to one side in the corner of the wide wooden stairs, so quiet and still that she almost didn’t see him at all.   Or maybe the fact that  he was just sitting there instead of milking a cow or throwing some hay that confused her.  He seemed to be taking the slower pace of the Amish culture very seriously.

“I—” she started, unsure of what to say now that she had actually found him.  “I was looking for you.”

“And you found me.”  Louie V. lay at his feet as if he had found a new master in Gideon Fisher.

“Right.”  Avery rocked back on her heels, enjoying the prickly feel of the straw beneath her feet.  “I came to see if I could help you with anything.”

“No.”  Simple man, simple answer.

“Yeah…well…okay.  I just thought I could do something.  I feel okay, you know.  Farms are busy places…aren’t they?  I mean, isn’t there always something to do, sun up to sun down and all time in between?” Why was she rambling?

“I s’pose.”

“Well, then…what can I do?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nothing?”

“It’s the Lord’s Day.  We only do what’s required of us on Sundays.”

Avery nodded.  “Right.  I was wondering about that.  Church and all.  I mean, if you need to leave…”  She couldn’t very well go with him dressed in her clothes or his.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought Gideon’s eyes hardened just a fraction, hiding that vulnerable light which crept into them when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“No.”

“You don’t have to stay here for me.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” Avery said, not really believing him.  She waited for him to load up another excuse, but he didn’t.

After several tense heartbeats, she turned to go.   A pile of quilts and a pillow stacked on the landing next to her host captured her attention.  She didn’t know much about horses or the soft equipment they used, but these surely didn’t look like horse blankets.  And she had never heard of a horse needing a pillow.  For anything.

She turned to face him.  “Did you sleep here last night?”

“Here?”

“Here.  In the barn.”

Gideon crossed his arms over his chest, his nonchalant pose of earlier vanishing in one fluid motion.  “And what’s it matter to you if’n I did?”

“Well…”  What truly did it matter to her where he slept?  “It seems sort of silly to me that I slept on the couch and you slept in the barn and nobody slept in that big old bed in there.”

“It’s not silly.”  He stood and even with the distance between them, Avery was impressed by his formidable height.  “We are not married.  We are not chaperoned.  The elders will be vexed enough to discover you’re here with me.  Sleeping in the house…” he shrugged.  “That is not something else I need on my conscience.”

“What isn’t something you need on your conscience?”  Avery eyed him warily.

“Compromisin’ your good standin’.”

Was he serious?  “Because I’m here with you…alone.”

Gideon nodded.  “Jah.”

He was serious!  And Avery was touched.

“But I’m an Englisher,” she said remembering the term she’d heard Jack use to refer to non-Amish folk.

“Jah,” Gideon agreed.  “But you are still a woman.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Swartzentruber Amish

| Amy

Most people believe that the Amish are the Amish are the Amish. There’s one kind–Amish. But this is not the case. I guess it’s a naive thought at best, but understandable since the Amish do their best to stay among themselves and keep their business private.

But in truth there are many divisions within the Amish church. These divisions happened over the years as members disagreed over one thing or another from shunning to gas powered motors. Because of this, most of the differences boil down to conservatism.

This is a picture of a Swartzentruber Amish farm in Ohio.  To find out more about the Swartzentruber Amish click here

The Amish in Ethridge, Tennessee, are very conservative–very conservative–and are considered Swartzentruber Amish.

Here are some of the determining factors that make up the Swartzentruber Amish:

♦ No indoor plumbing or hot water

♦ They use outhouses

♦ Automobile travel is forbidden unless there is an emergency

♦ A more conservative dress, especially with the women. Darker clothing even on children.

♦ Church services are longer–can last up to 4 hours

♦ Their houses have a rougher appearance and they do not have flower beds like other Amish

♦ They have no DMV safety triangles on the back of their buggies or windshields on the front

Fun Fact: There are 3 distinct, practicing groups of Swartzentruber Amish in Ohio. Swartzentruber Amish are in 13 states and Ontario.

Have you been to visit an Amish community? Do you know where they fall  on the Amish spectrum? Leave me a comment and tell me about your experience. I’d love to hear from you! <>< Amy

Amish Baskets

| Amy

Ethridge, TN — Part 3

As you know, all I wanted when we went to see the Amish in Ethridge, TN, was an Amish doll. But they also had a lot of really great baskets for sale. One of the ladies on the wagon tour with us had been there before, I’m guessing several times, for she knew which houses had what merchandise for sale.

At the last house we pulled into on our tour, she told us, “This is the house with the baskets.”

This house belonged to Levi Hershberger. Levi was a handsome man. With a dark beard hardly streaked with gray just touching his chest. He had clear skin, little round glasses and unlike the other men we encountered on our tour, he wore black lace shoes. If I had to guess I’d say he was in his late fifties to early sixties. Our guide told us that he had 17 children and 123 grandchildren. Keep in mind that the average number in a church district is 200. Mr. Levi’s immediate family was nearly a church district in itself!

Mr. Levi was kind enough to let us go into his workshop where he makes his baskets. All the materials are hand dyed, but the color is so even and perfect you’d think it had been commercially done. There was of course no electricity in his shop, the only light filtering in from the many windows.

The baskets were beautiful and had I had a little more pocket money I would have bought many more to bring home with me. As it was, I bought one (even though I swore I wasn’t buying anything else for my house. I’m doing my best this year to de-junk!). But next year I’ll be sure to stock up.

The Writing Process

| Amy

Maybe I should have called this the publishing process. So many times I’m asked “How long did it take you to write this book?”  Well, I have to tell you that the answer isn’t cut and dried.

I started Saving Gideon in October of 2010. I wrote the series idea, a working synopsis, and a submission synopsis. I wrote the first 50 pages and sent it  to my agent. July of the next year (that would make it 2011) We had a publishing house very interested. My agent said it was time to finish the book. So  I did, but it topped out at only 65 thousand words. I wasn’t worried. Until I got the contract in mid-September and the publishing house wanted the novel to be at least 80K. I  had a little over two weeks to write 15 thousand words. At the time I was working a full time job (44+ hours a week). YIKES!

By some miracle I finished the book, got it to word count and submitted on time. Yay, me!

Then the marketing pages arrived. The forms I had to fill out with pertinent information so that the cover artist could create a realistic and accurate cover. The first pass at a back cover blurb. The discussion questions for the book and interviews.

And then there’s the little matter of the next book in the series. I start it and the  ‘macro-edits’ arrive.

Macro edits–the first time I saw that phrase my heart hit the floor. Macro means big, right? Big changes. Holy cow. What had I  gotten myself into?

Whew! They weren’t as bad as I thought. I had a month to get them ready and sent in. I made it with days to spare.

And I  was finally done, right? Nope. Next came line edits. Line edits are hard. even harder than macro  edits. Why? Because line edits are proof that every word I’ve written is not golden. It’s the stuff that tears down a writer’s fragile ego  and makes us second guess any talent that we may have. It’s hard to see through the changes and know that the book is going to be better for the effort. All I can see is the many marks of “track changes blue”. Anyone who is a veteran of the line edit knows how tough this time is. But it’s almost over. A polished diamond of a book is almost ready.

Almost.

Almost? How much more can there be? There’s the copy edits. Then the final read, the author’s last chance to make  any changes to the manuscript before it goes to the printer.

And I  take a deep breath. I  sent this last batch of changes in last month. That’s July 2012.

So did it take me two years to write Saving Gideon? Not really. But I worked on it for two years. All the while, working on the second book in the series.

I’m through the line edits with Katie’s Choice. And soon I’ll begin writing text for Gabriel’s Bride. I’m sure while I’m working on Gabriel, I’ll be working on Katie as well. And such is the writing process.

Why We Love the Amish

| Amy

There’s no denying it, we (the “English”) are enchanted by the Amish. But what is it about them that intrigues us so?

As a writer if Amish fiction, this question has crossed my mind more than once. But on the flip side of the fiction coin, there’s the booming fantasy/sci fi/ paranormal sub-genre. So what does a conservative religious group and Twilight have in common? Maybe more than you think.

With all the techinology at our fingertips today, the world is moving faster and faster.  Because of this speed, we need an escape, a place where we can decompress. For many it’s the made up world of vampires, shape-shifters and fairies. For others (like me) it’s the old-fashioned world of the Amish.

The Amish live life side by side with the Englishers, but in a completely different world. It’s not their clothes, the lack of electricity, or their church services that intrigue us. It’s their pace. It’s their lack of the Internet, cellphones, and DVRs. As our world spins faster and faster while theirs plods along at the pace of hoof beats.

Their world is real, but so different. It exists and it gives us hope that our own world won’t get out of control. You can’t ask for much more than that.

What do you like most about the Amish? Even if it’s their peanut brittle, leave me a comment and let me know.

My Amish Doll

| Amy

Ethridge, Tennessee part 2

There is definitely something charming about the Amish. It’s undeniable that these people who work so diligently to conform, intrigue us so. To the point that we want to take a little piece of them home with us, be it a jar of homemade jelly, a basket, or a bag of peanut brittle. When we traveled to Ethridge this summer, all I wanted was a doll.

In case you don’t know, Amish dolls do not have faces. This practice goes back to the Ten Commandments and no graven images. It also accounts for the fact that the Amish refuse to have their picture taken. To them, the measure is one of pride and all prideful-ness should be avoided. But back to my doll… I found one in the gift shop where we rented a horse-drawn wagon to take us down the back roads to the Amish farms that welcomed English (non-Amish) visitors. But I 

There were a great many items for sale, though most farms had the same types of goods: peanut brittle and homemade treats, small wooden games, beads, and jelly. One farm sold furniture–small stools and swings, high chairs and cribs–and another incredible hand-woven baskets. But no dolls.

Needless to say, I was crushed. We stopped at ten farms, got out talked to the people who lived there, bought various goods and enjoyed a quiet, lazy afternoon. But not one of these farm’s offered dolls for sale.

On the way back to the gift shop I asked the guy who was driving our wagon about the dolls and he told me that there was one in the gift shop. (Well, I knew that!)  but settled myself into getting the doll from the store. Actually there were two dolls in the store–one boy and one girl. Buy only the girl doll had a tag that said Amish made. I snatched her up and took her to the counter to purchase. I told the lady that I was disappointed that none of the farms offered dolls for sale. As she rang up my purchase she asked me if I remembered the first farm that we had stopped at on the wagon tour. “Of course,” I said. Then she proceeded to tell me that the doll I was purchasing was made by the woman who lived there, Amanda Swartzentruber. Furthermore, Amanda used to make several dolls to sell  in the store, but their bishop decided that  it shouldn’t be allowed. I bought the last doll that Amanda had made for them.

Why the bishop was against Amanda making dolls for the store to sell is beyond me. Though I’m sure he had the best interests of his church members in mind. Maybe it was a pride issue, like Amanda would think her dolls better than the other women’s because the English sold hers in their store. Or maybe he wanted to cut that tie between the two  worlds.

What do you think? I’d love to hear any thoughts from my readers. Have you run into a similar situation when traveling among the Plain folk nearest you?