In its earliest incarnation Savannah of Williamsburg was nothing more than a simple, contemporary, twenty-page children's book titled The Capital Squirrel . Set in Washington, D.C., it was the wee adventure of a wee squirrel living on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol building and exploring the country's capital city from within the pocket of a friend, the fictitious Senator Sheridan. My Miss Savannah Prudence Squirrel didn't even have a name back then!

That wee tale I sent to Mrs. Barbara Bush as a simple thank you to her for past years of grace, manners and kindness to the country as our first lady. It was nothing more than a little gift from an admiring, American girl. In keeping with said-grace and -manners, this is what she sent back to me. Today, well into finishing the fourth book of what evolved into my Savannah of Williamsburg series of historical-fiction novels, I still cherish this note and use it as inspiration when the details and subject matter of an oncoming American Revolution prove almost too much to which my brain and tenacity can attend. Thank you, Mrs. Bush!

In the 237 summers which have come and gone since July 4th, 1776, the date has increasingly become a juncture for white sales and auto dealer blowouts. In fact, lost amidst the mall madness and car lot carnivals is a simultaneously fascinating and pedantic period of committee meetings, assignations, rewrites, copies, messengers, vote-taking and gallons of coffee, ale and wine. As I currently scribe the fourth novel in my six-part, historical-fiction series of books, Savannah of Williamsburg, Independence Day takes on a more front-and-center appearance than usual as research takes me through the 1750s, well into the meaty burgeoning of colonial revolution.

Savannah of Williamsburg devotees have been anxiously awaiting Book IV in my 18thC. historical-fiction series. Well, pour some tea and put up your feet, folks ... be prepared to wait a little longer. Happily, my non-Savannah writing affords me a bevy of opportunity: as of late, covering various comic book conventions, reviewing the odd TV series, interviewing other writers and some producers and actors, to boot. As I am inextricably bonded to geek culture, I heartily enjoy writing in this genre. Although, because it is raw-ther niche, the more I write, the more call I get to do so. It's a nerdy, vicious cycle, my pretties. Unfamiliar with some of my geek oeuvres? Find them at GoodToBeAGeek.com, under the pseudonym Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame of the Hotel del Coronado, and syndicated at RocketLlama.com and, soon, Nerdspan.com!

The Wild West of 1850s southern California never saw WonderCon coming. Originally an agricultural collective of pious, German farmers and vintners, Victorian Anaheim would have plotzed at the site of The Joker, Jawas, Hobbacca and G-stringed Supergirls crossing Katella and Harbor, headed into their Anaheim Convention Center. Although, he might have appreciated some of the more inventive steampunk costuming, 1857 co-founder George Hansen must have just come to grips with Disneyland when WonderCon steamed into town last year. This year, it descended upon the O.C. once again and, if Hansen's ghost gets his wish, it should be headed back up north, to San Francisco's Moscone Center for 2014. If the rest of us get our wish, parent company Comic-Con International will permanently add this southern substitute, WonderCon Anaheim, to its regular menu des plaisirs.

An able, disinterested, public-spirited press, with trained intelligence to know the right and courage to do it, can preserve that public virtue without which popular government is a sham and a mockery.

-Joseph Pulitzer

Whilst May 5th, Freedom of the Press Day, is still a few weeks away, this week in April is notable for a formidable individual whom strove throughout his life to keep that freedom strong, well-trained and powering forward like a Wild West steam engine thrusting across our vast nation.

Publisher Joseph Pulitzer was born April 10, 1847 in Budapest, Hungary. Emigrating to America toward the end of the Civil War, he fought with Union forces for a short period; yet, thankfully for us, battlefield horrors soon took a backseat to what would become a lifetime of inky fingers.

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No Voltaire-styled, Twain-pithed or New Yorker-length posts here today. Simply a bit of fabulous, a smattering of so many things I love, all rolled into one savvy and styling auto advert: Rococo style, 18thC. sartorial flair, classical ballet, Baroque opera, a thumping techno beat, silk mules and, if you know my writings well, anthropomorphic animals in Vogue-worthy vestments.

Bravo, Kia Soul! Your funky, furry, Hail Fellows Well Met might get me into a Soul yet: black, to be sure. To boot, this is just the kicking beat I need to light that Sun King-caliber firework under my tapestry-festooned panier to keep working on Book IV of my Savannah of Williamsburg Series of historical-fiction novels: Savannah of Williamsburg: Washington's Folly and The French & Indian War, Virgina 1755.

Amusez-vous bien, mes amis!

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What a pleasant surprise Savannah of Williamsburg is.  At first glance I thought a story about a squirrel who comes to Colonial Virginia, dressed in pretty frocks and traveling with a steamer trunk and a violin would not be my cup of tea.  But I’m game, so I started reading.

As of late, the adventure-lit of Edgar Rice Burroughs has captured my interest with a pleasant focus. The travel narratives of 19thC. adventurers have forever suited me well: Mark Twain, Richard Henry Dana, Charles Darwin, Henry James and Thomas Jefferson with his 18thC. accounts of Italian and French sojourns. To that end, contemporary travel essayists fill a healthy portion of our nearly 2,000 volume library: Bill Bryson, Peter Mayle, Hunter S. Thompson. Perhaps these travel writers and novelists have fueled my Wanderlust; perhaps I am drawn to them because of said-lust.

I have certainly been intrigued by adventure-lit since I first flipped through a fave and well-dogeared volume of Mom's 1940s  I Married Adventure by Martin and Osa Johnson. Tales of a 1930s power couple, he a photographer and contemporary of Jack London (another childhood fave of mine), she the devoted and steel-spined wife and protective riflewoman, they travelled South America and Africa well before the likes of Margaret Mead, Diane Fossey and Jane Goodall: all ladies whose works were also regular reading material about the house. (Mom was an anthropology major when I was wee and I suppose the lure of travel, questions of man's origins and the eternal quest for social knowledge set in early. Her degree was largely focused on Southeast Asian Studies; but I always thought it was Southy Station Studies, as in people who rode trains in the South. Silly girl.) Natch, I could go on here ad nauseum about all this twaddle, but I must save zee leetle grey zells' work for my current endeavour ... which brings me to the animal-loving Brit in the loin cloth.

Motivated by this year's themes for San Diego Comic-Con -for which I am anxiously awaiting press passes for the purposes of reporting from the convention floor for GoodtobeaGeek.com, as my alter ego/pseudonym Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame- I have dipped my feathered quill and now sit pensively, pondering my submission to the official Souvenir Book, my inky nib aloft and hesitating just inches above my parchment. My theme of choice? The 100th anniversary of Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan of the Apes.

I utilize this casual canvas, similar to my previous post wherein I gathered some Savannah of Williamsburg thoughts -how to formulate my fourth book in this series- as a sounding board to crystallize some free-radical ideas in my noodle. It seems to be working; I feel the gears moving, like one of Dr. Lucia Devereaux's steampunk contraptions sputtering to life. (If you read Hannah, you'll know of Dr. Lucy.) Some of you may know I was published in the 2010 Comic-Con Book: lead story even for the 60th Anniversary of Peanuts segment! My task at hand this time is considerable. These Tarzan geeks are tough competition.

Now, being the weird combination of she whom reveres original fairy tales -Grimm (Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel und Gretel), de la Fontaine (The Grasshopper and the Ant, The Tortoise and the Hare), de Ségur (Blondine), etc.- yet also adores the Disney reiterations thereof, my Viking and I ventured to Disneyland to get my noggin revving and skittered amidst the branches of Tarzan's Treehouse in Adventureland. In fact, the attraction used to be the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse and far superior ... to the Tarzan Treehouse, not superior to the Robert Louis Stevenson book. Ha! It was a subtle homage of vintage suitcases, silver hairbrushes and antique china to the durable and genteel, accidental survivalists from the mind of the man from Edinburgh. Happily, some of the props have remained in place.

Once again, merci pour écouter, thanks for listening; I think I have some ideas brewing. I imagine, alongside reading more of Mr. Edgar Rice Burroughs, a few more trips through the treehouse may very well be in order.

Update to Post: I did indeed come up with an article for Comic-Con 2012 and it was published in the annual Souivernir Book. Read it here!

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In a springtime issue of Next Door Neighbors magazine, author Jennifer Susannah Devore was interviewed by Suzi Drake about from whence the idea for the series originated, how the author was enjoying her new life on the East Coast and what was next in the literary hopper.

Savannah of Williamsburg: Being the Account of a Young, London Squirrel, Virginia 1705 and Savannah of Williamsburg: The Trials of Blackbeard and His Pirates, Virginia 1718 are discussed in the interview.

Mrs. Wyn Williams' fourth-graders at Yorktown Elementary Math, Science and Technology Magnate School in Yorktown, Virginia honoured the author immensely by putting on a play of the first book in the Savannah of Williamsburg Series. Ms. Devore's favourite scene? The duel between William Byrd II and Sir Roland Graham, of course!