 Serenade Of The South By Louise Ulmer The expected letter arrived during the week of finals at the University of Arkansas. Ariel flung her books on the bed and tore open the cream-colored vellum envelope. A smile lit her face. "It's all set!" she said. "I'm going to Serenade. I'm expected the week after graduation." "I can't believe you," said her older sister, Tish, who was busy studying for a final in Interior Design 401 and putting on the third coat of Video Violet on her inch-long nails. "You're actually turning down a newspaper job to go write a genealogy for Mom's crazy great-great aunt." "I don't think she's really crazy," Ariel said, "it just seems that way because she lives in the past. With her money, she can afford to." "I hope Mom is in her will." "She's paying my first year's tuition at the university. Besides that, the fringe benefits would tempt even you." "I'll give you that. The old girl has not one but two--count them--two nephews." "Never mind that. I'm talking about the atmosphere and the sense of history, not to mention the living arrangements. Serenade has servants for the cooking, cleaning, laundry.... This is no job; it's a vacation with pay." "I think you're in the wrong field. You better forget journalism and take up fiction." "I know writers who would kill for an opportunity like this. Aunt Belle is 90 years old. I know a once-in-a-lifetime chance when I see one." Tish got ready to turn on a hair dryer to blow on her nails. "It isn't every day you get a chance to bury yourself on a farm in the boonies." Ariel studied at a photograph that had come with the letter. "Okay, Smarty," she said, "get a load of the farm in the boonies."
Tish laid down the dryer and gave the photo inspection. "Oh, my God! she said. "Write and ask if they need an interior designer too."
Some people begin a novel with a character. With me it's a place. I think people react differently, depending on where they are and the atmosphere of the moment. When I'm in some historic place, I can all but see the ghosts of those who have lived there. The same thing happened when writing Shaker Winter. I fell in love with a place and the people came from the Shaker village. Serenade came to me after studying famous American homes. I couldn't write another Gone With the Wind, but I wanted to bring to life that great house with not only a past but a lively present too. I didn't plan this novel, I just let it happen, a fun way to write. My sister, A-Kay, added her vision. We grew up in Fayetteville, Arkansas, where as a teenager I used to think nothing had ever happened. I was grown before I discovered the town has a history every bit as colorful as the burning of Atlanta. Fayetteville had been burned by both Yankees and Confederates during "The War." I guess the period seeped into our bones or was inherited. My mother and brother have read every novel in print on the American Civil War. Part of the season I wrote Serenade was to give her another fun book to read about our favorite bygone age. We love any book with a ghost in it. Give me a place, and I'll find the ghosts of the past in it.
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