Do you use a pen name/pseudo name? If so, why. If not, why did you decide to write under your own name?
Cate Parke is actually my pen name. My actual middle name is Catherine and Parke was my maiden name. My grandmother’s first name was Kathryn and her friends all called her Kate. I loved it. There were three girls with my real first name when I was in third grade and I asked my father to let them call me Cate. Nope—he liked my first name. I had to wait until now to get to use the name. Sorry, Dad!
Collette is actually my middle name! 🙂
Can you tell, us, how long have you been writing?
I’ve been writing for the past seven years with time off for lots and lots of research.
What’s one thing you absolutely can’t tolerate during your writing? One thing you can’t write without?
I can’t write with peppy songs playing—especially with words being sung. Too distracting. I can write just about anywhere—even on a plane stuffed in the window seat, but what I can’t write without is classical music being played. I put on my ear phones and get right into my zone.
What’s the funniest thing anyone has ever said to you about your writing? Or the unkindest? Or the oddest?
Hm-m…how about the kindest thing anyone ever said about my writing? It came from my wonderful editor regarding my second book, Dreams Within Dreams. She actually thanked me for sharing my story with her, and said she absolutely loved it. Praise doesn’t get much better than that. Thank you, Ciara!
What is one place you absolutely want to visit before you die?
No doubt about it—Scotland wins, hands down. I’d love to see New Zealand, too, but Scotland is a must. I’d love to do more traveling inside England, Wales and Northern Ireland, too. I have a cousin who lives outside Belfast.
I’m headed to Scotland in the summer of 2015. I can’t wait!
Why did you choose to write in this genre? Have you ever written any other genre? Do you plan on doing so in the future?
I’ve always, always loved American and English history—especially the Revolutionary War/Georgian period. I decided to write a series of novels to tell a story about a single period in both their histories and about a real family that lived during that time. My main characters, their children and their home is completely fictional, but I set them in a city I’ve lived in and loved, Charleston, South Carolina. It’s a city that begs to be written about. I have three novels being released this coming year. The stories take place from late 1769 to 1782. The middle book covers ten years of my characters’ history. It could be tedious, but I’ve worked hard to keep the action tight to hold my readers’ interest. The third novel covers my characters during the period when the Revolutionary War came to South Carolina—several years later than the date it started in the northern colonies, 1775. I have a contemporary planned that is sort of a sequel to these novels, about a descendent of the original characters.
Is there any genre you won’t read? Write? Can you tell us why?
Technical manuals aren’t my favorites, I have to say. When pressed, because there isn’t another single thing to read, though, I’ll sit down with one and pore over it as if it were Shakespeare. Basically, if the thing doesn’t self-combust in my hands, I’ll read it. I try never to leave home without my e-reader.
What historical figure do you wish you could have met?
Thomas Jefferson, perhaps. George Washington, without a doubt. I would have loved to have met the 4th Duke of Argyll. I did a lot of research about him, his world and his family. He must have been a fascinating person—irascible, but fascinating
Tell us one unusual, weird, or curious fact you discovered while researching this book.
It was weird. I’d named my original heroine, Louisa Campbell and named her father Lord William Campbell, the third son of the 4th Duke of Argyll. I named the home they lived in The Oaks. I had made him the last Royal Governor of South Carolina. Guess what? I discovered there really was a Lord William Campbell, he happened to be the 3rd son of the 4thDuke of Argyll, he was the last Royal Governor of South Carolina and he had a daughter named Louisa. To top it off, one of the homes the real Lord William Campbell lived in was called The Oaks. As a little added bonus to the weird, my hero’s original name was Richard Hutson. You guessed it—there was a real Richard Hutson. So, after a lot more research, I changed all my principle characters’ names to fictional ones. There were more coincidences—mostly regarding the real people I wrote about—all of them discovered only after I wrote their stories. I felt like I’d channeled these people’s lives.
Wow! That’s amazing.
What are you most proud of about your writing?
I’ve just about finished the third of three books. I’d always been told I should write a book (haven’t most authors?) but I’d never tried before sitting down to a computer during January, 2006. I’m a nurse and, believe me, we aren’t encouraged to write much. If we can describe a patient’s critical event in fifty words or less—GREAT! Complete sentences and punctuation? Pfttt! Unnecessary. The challenge of writing dialogue and using commas correctly is almost beyond me—and I lovedEnglish. I always have.
What’s one new thing you’d like to try?
Chocolate covered ants? Scratch that. I’ve already had them. IMHO, they’re over-rated. Crawling to the back of a cave where evidence of prehistoric man was found? Scratch that, too. Done it. Mostly what I found was centuries of ochre-colored dust and evidence the guy must’ve died of liver failure from all the beer he must have guzzled during long winter evenings. The back of the cave was wall to wall with old aluminum beer cans. Let me see—something I’ve never done before…I’ve never flown over the Marianas Trench. I never plan to, either! I have a fear of heights and of depths. Can you imagine a plane you’re on, flying over the deepest fissure in one of the earth’s oceans breaking apart at 37,000 feet? My husband turned down orders to Guam for that reason—bless his soul, though he assured me I’d never feel it when I hit the water after falling from that altitude. Oh, great! Just what I needed to learn. Thanks, dear.
What is something you are determined to do?
Travel to Scotland—that’s just for starters.
What are you most afraid of?
Snakes. Spiders. That’s about it.(Shiver!)
Spiders-bleck.
Do you have a favorite quote?
Love was before the light began. When light is over, love will be.
~Anonymous, From The Thousand and One Nights
Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character? Sleeping Beauty
Favorite Fruit? Cantaloupe
Favorite Hero? My husband
Favorite Eye Color? Green
Best Vacation Destination? Scotland—where else?
Food you can’t stand? Calamari. Yuck!
What annoys you? Ignorance—I can live with. Stupidity—not so much
Coffee, tea, or something else? Coffee—or red wine
Nightgown or Jammies? Neither???
Prefer dogs or cats? Both.
A bit about Cate
I call my blog Tuesday’s Child. Yes, I was really born on a Tuesday. I’m convinced my mother made a mistake, though. I believe she meant to have given birth to me the previous Thursday. Remember the old Mother Goose tale, which says Thursday’s Child has far to go? That’s me to a tee. Besides, if I’d been born the previous Thursday, I would have been born under the sign of the lion, which would have reflected my redheaded temperament a good deal better. It’s true. What could my mother have been thinking???
If I’d been born on a Tuesday, I should have been born full of grace. So very sad, but nobody has ever, ever attributed me with this particular virtue. It only took one college class in dance to convince me of the unfortunate truth.
I’m a writer of historical romance whose writings, to date, are set prior to, during and after the Revolutionary War in South Carolina.
In my regular life, I’m a registered nurse. I’ve had the privilege and pleasure of practicing pediatric nursing my entire career. Also, I’m the wife of my very own hero, a retired U.S. Navy officer. During that time, I’ve been fortunate to live in or travel to all but five states of the union, to Canada, Mexico and several European nations. I’m privileged to have wonderful friends in all those places.
The blurb about Richard Berkeley’s Bride
Will his ambitions and her fears imperil their future?
Although he’s the scion of a wealthy prominent family, the arranged marriage unlocks the door to far greater wealth and power than Richard ever hoped to achieve. He soon learns his lordship’s offer to instate him as his sole heir isn’t the only treasure worth risking his life for. Alexandra is the true prize.
Intrigued by the proud, wealthy beauty soon to become his wife, Richard sets aside his mistress. But Eliza is furious to be cast off. Her plans for revenge quickly swell out of control and threaten to destroy Richard should he be unable to establish his innocence when charged with her murder. Her cousin, Lord Thomas Graham plans to ensure it.
Alexandra has her own secrets—including deep-seated fears which imperil their chance for happiness. But Richard discovers Alexandra’s love is a prize worth protecting—if only he can help her overcome her fears and past struggles to create a marriage truly worthy of their love.
Enjoy an excerpt from Richard Berkeley’s Bride
Charlestowne, South Carolina Colony, March 1768
Richard Berkeley broke the wax seal on his father’s message and read, “14th March. Lord Edward’s house, Meeting Street. Supper, eight o’clock. We have an offer to tender.
~Thos. Berkeley
Postscript: It’s time you married, boy. We want heirs.
Richard’s eyes widened and one eyebrow ratcheted up several notches. What in hell does this mean? Marriage…heirs? What the devil are my father and Lord Edward up to now?
He’d once considered ways he hated starting his day and this note just shot to the top of his list.
It occurred to him one of two possibilities existed. Either a life-changing opportunity knocked or he should run the other way—fast. The latter option was undoubtedly the best.
****
“Come in, my son, come in.” Thomas Berkeley boomed, clapping Richard’s shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
He turned and indicated a winged armchair across from Lord Edward. His father’s hearty good humor deepened Richard’s wariness.
A worm of suspicion wriggled into Richard’s core. The glee contained in his father’s words triggered his conjecture that his elder barely restrained himself from rubbing his hands together in eagerness.
Richard sat, and crossed an ankle over his knee. He contained an urge to drum his fingers on the chair’s arm and gripped it instead, while brooding, not for the first time that day, over what game these two schemers played. So he smoldered—not a little irritated over their intrusion into his well-deserved freedom—and gripped the chair so hard he left a deep imprint in the chair’s well-padded arm.
“Good evening, my boy. Busy day?”
Lord Edward Campbell passed Richard a shimmering tumbler half-full of whisky. More than a little smug, his lordship’s piercing, blue-eyed stare pinned Richard against the chair’s back. Richard had always admired Lord Edward’s ability to miss not a single detail during complex negotiations. Yet his admiration did nothing to decrease his mounting uneasiness.
Flickering candles alight in eight-branched candelabras, set on tables near them, chased deep dusk from the room and sparkled in the panes of tall, satin-draped windows.
Richard’s quick glance slid toward first one man, then the other, still pondering what these two wanted of him. What did their earlier comment regarding his conjugal condition have to do with anything? And heirs? Wide smirks plastered the older men’s features.
“Pardon me, sirs, but you leave me with the grim notion that you haven’t merely invited me to eat supper—but to be the main course.”
Chuckling at Richard’s quip, Lord Edward leaned forward. “Thomas and I wish to propose a betrothal.”
Richard’s head snapped up. A pin’s drop, falling onto the Persian carpet beneath his feet, would have echoed throughout the room. Well, now I know.
“A betrothal, my lord? May I ask to whom?”
Richard took a modest sip of the excellent whisky to cover his sudden urge to gulp. It’s a damned good thing my mouth wasn’t full of this when he made that pronouncement or his lordship might have worn the evidence of my surprise. It was the single thing he’d found to smile about…if only a smile could be mustered. His father and Lord Edward grinned enough for all three of them, like two aging cats that had gotten into a canary’s cage with satisfactory results.
His lordship’s meticulous scrutiny left Richard feeling as though he were a naturalist’s specimen.
“Yes, Richard. My daughter, Alexandra, is now of age and soon to have her London season. Afterward, she will return home and then you both may marry. My father assures me she resembles her mother in every way.”
Richard’s glance skipped toward a portrait of Lady Georgiana, hanging above the fireplace. He knew the painting well, having seen it many times, and admired the lady’s extraordinary beauty. Lord Edward’s daughter might be the mirror image of her mother, yet he wasn’t ready to surrender the freedom his bachelor life afforded, nor ready to change his connubial status.
At twenty-six, he deemed himself entitled to independence. After years spent pursuing his studies, first at Eton, then Christ Church, Oxford and, afterward, London’s Middle Temple, he’d worked hard to gain credentials anyone would find impressive for a man his age. Hard upon his return to Charlestowne, Lord Edward, his old mentor, lured him into his far-flung shipping venture and other financial schemes.
“I’m pleased you’d consider me worthy of your daughter, My Lord. I recall her, of course, but she was just a small child when I left for England. I know little of her except her name.”
“Hm-m. Yes, that is a difficulty, my boy.” His Lordship stared at him, and steepled his fingers. “Of course, she will be home next year and then you may meet her.”
Richard cleared his throat. “If I may, sir, I sail to London next month on business. May I propose meeting her then? Afterward, I’ll reply to your proposal.”
One of Lord Edward’s elegant brows lifted. “She leaves London for Inveraray Castle, my father’s home in Scotland, before your arrival in London, Richard.” He stirred in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “If you wish, I will send a letter of introduction to my father with you. After our affairs in London are concluded you may travel to Argyllshire to meet her.”
“I’m flattered, sir. I will, of course, be happy to make your daughter’s acquaintance. May I ask why I was chosen?” Richard was careful to remain blasé.
“I have intended you for her since you were but a young lad.” His lordship’s smug grin was that of a man satisfied all his plans had come to fruition.
“Thomas permitted me a share in your rearing, Richard. You have grown to be a fine man whom I admire and trust. I flatter myself I played a small role in the outcome. Indeed, I could not be prouder of you if you were my own son.”
“Edward and I spoke of this possibility when you and his daughter were both but youngsters, my son. It’s our hope you’ll concede to our proposal.”
Two pairs of shrewd eyes in the faces of his elders stabbed him. “Your marriage to my daughter will unite two excellent names and fortunes into a mighty alliance. I will, of course, make you my heir.
It was the coup ď grâce. Richard strove but failed to restrain the outward sign of the piercing pleasure that speared him.
Thoughts cascaded through his head. Well, I’d hoped to create a name and fortune in Charlestowne. Here it is…offered up for the taking.
Possessed of a prominent and ancient name in the city, Richard’s family was amongst the colony’s most affluent. The eldest son of the eldest son, he’d inherit it all.
“The question is,” he thought, “am I willing to surrender my independence for a girl I hardly remember? Well, Richard old man, there’s only one way to know.” And, if he was right, she just might be the wife he sought—the one worth far more than his forfeited bachelorhood.
****
Lord Edward snapped the seal on the message and scanned the few words, allowing a slow triumphant smile to slide onto his face.
Thursday, 20thOctober 1768
Inveraray Castle
Sir,
I have been introduced to your daughter. Miss Campbell is everything you described, yet far more. Consider me the willing fly caught in your web, my lord. I accept your proposal. I am
Your obedient servant &c
~Richard Berkeley
****
Alexandra’s Journal: 14thDecember 1769,Time is now my adversary. We have voyaged six weeks to reach Charlestowne from London. Had it been six months it would not have been long enough….
“That is my father, Lord Edward Campbell, standing there on the pier,” Alexandra murmured to Mariette through stiff, white lips and tight-clenched teeth. Distress compressed her voice to little more than a whisper.
“And the gentleman with him, mademoiselle?” Mariette, Alexandra’s pretty amber-eyed femme de chambre, clutched her bonnet lest the ferocious wind rip it off.
“I presume he is the man I am to marry.”
Frigid wind caught a sail that flapped while bellowing men fought to furl it, and lashed the deck with pungent scents of vegetation and reeking fish being unloaded from a nearby trawler. The stench-assailed nostrils grown used to clean ocean breezes after weeks at sea. Cranes screeched into position to begin offloading the moment the ship stopped moving. Harried ship’s officers bawled orders to cursing men who brought the large vessel in to port. The clamor all but swallowed Alexandra’s reply. She shrugged and shook her head, incapable of louder speech.
Mariette leaned closer, shouting, “I am sorry,mademoiselle, but I cannot hear you.”
Alexandra shivered. Desolation, like the bitter-cold wind off the water, swept her. Years stretched before her, controlled entirely by the unknown man who stood beside her father.
“He is young…and very handsome, non?” Mariette shouted again, her voice filled with admiration.
From her perspective, the shadow, cast by his gray felt tricorn, hid most of his face from her view. “From what little I can see of him he appears so…mercifully,” Alexandra conceded, though whispering the last.
She thought of the gentleman who had enchanted her at Inveraray more than a year ago. The man on the pier resembled him. He was from Charlestowne—why could it not be him? No, surely not.
The flawless cut of the man’s blue coat draped his broad-shouldered frame, attesting to trim muscles beneath his snowy shirt. The wind whipped the tails of his coat apart revealing pearl gray breeches clinging to his slim hips and long muscular legs like second skin. Tall, black boots gleamed in the bright sunlight.
Alexandra lifted her shoulder in a tiny shrug, then shivered. Why could my father not have told me anything at all of the man to whom he has betrothed me—not even his name? It seems the smallest of courtesies. Doubtless, he regarded it as trivial and unnecessary information. Absurd. Fear squeezed breath from her lungs. She’d learned her fate only ten weeks ago and spent every one of those days dreading today’s encounter.
Her hands clenched into fists and her nails dug into her tender palms. Blood soared up her neck and the tips of her ears stung with furious heat. Despair warred with anger that her father had treated her in such a high-handed way.
Her ivory moiré silk lent her courage and strength as it had done on more than one occasion during the past year. Her only jewels, her mother’s pearls, bedecked her throat and dangled from her earlobes. A feather and ribbon trimmed hat tamed her fiery curls.
“Bless you, Mariette, for your foresight in choosing this gown.”
“Look at your father’s face, chère mademoiselle. I believe he is delighted to see you. I feel certain he wishes nothing more than to welcome his beloved daughter home once again.”
A bitter peal of laughter spilled from Alexandra’s stiff lips. “I doubt it, Mariette. I have tried to believe my father would not give me in marriage to one he deems unworthy. It is the meanest of comforts, for I know naught of him or his motivations. We are utter strangers, he and I. I have no cause in the world to trust his judgment.” The muscles of her face went rigid. “I am convinced he acts only to please himself, just as he has done since I was a very small child.”
The pier drew inexorably closer with each passing moment. A different life awaited her there than the one she’d envisioned only ten weeks ago. Her heart thudded within her chest, matching the slow clank-clank-clank of the windlass. Aloft, swearing seamen strained to furl the last two sails. An hourglass formed in her mind’s eye. The last grains plummeted from it when the vessel bumped gently against the camels lining the pier’s sides. Time ran out.
Another shiver inched up her spine, not merely from whipping cold wind but from the knowledge she would forever be at the mercy of her father’s whim—and that of the man who stood beside him. She clutched her cloak tighter, as if it could somehow save her from a fate in which she was given no choice.
She had arrived.
Here’s how you can contact Cate
Thanks again, Cate, for joining me here today!
You’re welcome! I’ve had a lovely time. Thanks for having me, Collette.
