JO. B. CREATIVE

Author & Multi-Disciplinary Artist
Showing posts with label Wild Frontier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wild Frontier. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 February 2026

WRITING AN EPIC WESTERN IN THE HEART OF JANE AUSTEN COUNTRY!

WRITING AN EPIC WESTERN TRILOGY

IN THE HEART OF JANE AUSTEN COUNTRY!




                                            JANE AUSTEN IN THE WILD WEST!


Unless you’ve lived under a rock all your life, you’ll know who Jane Austen was. She wrote her novels - mostly about middle class daughters being married off - & died in Hampshire during the late 18th & early 19th centuries. She wrote in her cosy parlour in Chawton Village until her death in Winchester in 1817. I live in Alton, a twenty minute cycle ride from Chawton Cottage, her home. 



I stood in her parlour where a squeaky floorboard warned her of approaching footsteps so she could hurriedly hide her writing.

I rolled my eyes at that - until I considered my own secretive writings of a blood & lust western starring a charismatic, bisexual, fastest gun slinging cowgirl. Not exactly Austen territory. So, I, too, could have used a warning floorboard. Husband turned up in my late twenties and said, “For goodness sake write that damn story!” So I did, & published Alias Jeannie Delaney, Books 1 & 2 on Amazon under my pen name Kit Mackenzie. My other identity, a wild western UK gal, is Kitty Le Roy (also a steampunk pirate). Kitty was my granny and the wild west has been a fascination since my teens. The development of Kitty grew alongside the story. 


  




But back to Chawton Cottage...

I wandered into Jane’s bedroom and was far less fascinated by her writing or samplers on the walls than by the fact that her chamber pot, tucked in a small closet, would still contain her DNA.

I’m no Austen devotee, I'm afraid. 

Two centuries after her death, & long after her novels leapt from page to screen, I can be found half a mile away, editing Book Three of Alias Jeannie Delaney on my laptop.

As a 1960s teenager, I slogged through Pride and Prejudice for my 

O Levels, along with William Golding's Lord of the Flies. I was not delighted. I did well at English Language but flunked English Lit. Austen’s wit may be legendary, but to me the story dragged like a sermon on root vegetables. Yes, I know -  eighteenth-century context, twenty-first-century eyes, stroppy teenage reader. I’m a stroppy granny now. 

My daughter, studying Sense and Sensibility during the 1990s, was lent the video by her grandma. I would have given my right arm to be able to watch Pride and Prejudice during my exams. I might have stood a chance of passing my exam. Only Charles Dance’s Mr Bennet has softened my stance. I watched Pride and Prejudice & Zombies recently. I enjoyed that bonkers film, & I might have passed O Level if that version had been on the syllabus. 





Whatever. I really don’t care now.

Now, about Jane's Bennets - my namesakes without the extra 't'. ..  My great-great-grandfather James Bennett and his cousin John Bennett lived in Hampshire (as my dad said to me: “You’ve returned to your Hampshire roots.”). James & John were well-known cricketers at Jane's time.

They played for Middlesex and at Marylebone in 1805, & their names appear in contemporary sports periodicals. 

Interesting, yes, but what does this have to do with Jane?

Jane & family were keen on cricket. A television film from a few years ago, Becoming Jane, shows her playing cricket in their garden. The surname Bennet & her fondness for cricket got me thinking. A quick Google of “Jane Austen” & “cricket” led me to Fantasy Bob, a cricket enthusiast, & his website.



Bob reckons that Jane was influenced by the cricketing Bennetts. I’ve never proved this, but the timing is right. The Bennett cousins played at Hambledon Cricket Club in Hampshire when Jane was around & where the rules of cricket were established. It’s entirely possible that Jane deliberately or accidentally borrowed the name, dropping the second ‘t’.

It’s a cracking story, & I’m sticking with it. What a thought, that my ancestor James & his cousin John were Jane Austen’s heroes. What a story if I could prove it.

Many of Alton’s roads are named after Austen characters & locations. Our cul-de-sac is Bennet Close, just off Netherfields. People said we were “coming home” when we moved because of my surname. Perhaps they didn’t realise how true that might have been.

To sum up: here are two writers, Jane & me, living two centuries & half a mile apart, writing two radically different visions of womanhood. One with marriage plots & embroidery hoops. The other with guns, grit, & a bisexual cowgirl.

I couldn't find more compelling stories if I tried.




KITTY'S CABIN


Alias Jeannie Delaney Books 1 & 2 

are available as e-novels, 

paperbacks & on Kindle Unlimited.


IF YOU'VE READ & ENJOYED THE TRILOGY SO FAR,  I'D BE INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL IF YOU COULD LEAVE A POSITIVE REVIEW ON AMAZON. 

THANK YOU SO MUCH!





ALIAS JEANNIE DELANEY - THE STORYLINE     

Badass pants-wearing tomboy beauty Jeannie Morgan grows to be a cowgirl & the fastest gun west of the Mississippi. But when she discovers that her sexuality is as fluid as a miner's whiskey & both men & women enjoy her magnificent lovemaking, she feels as though she's been trampled by a cattle stampede. 

She's born in vibrant New Orleans in 1865 and strongly rebels against the upbringing of a Victorian girl. The family head west where she finds her true calling on her Pa's ranch. However, the explosive mix of her looks, her charismatic power, her lethal gun & finally her sexuality go against her & the townsfolk want her out or dead. Preferably dead.


Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , , , , , ,

Sunday, 16 November 2025

ALIAS JEANNIE DELANEY - AN EPIC WESTERN TRILOGY SNEAK PEEK!


ALIAS JEANNIE DELANEY - 
AN EPIC WESTERN TRILOGY
SNEAK PEEK!






Howdy Dear Readers!

Here follow three sample chapters from Books 1 & 2 of my epic western trilogy, Alias Jeannie Delaney. I've also added the images of Jeannie I've created over the years, most of which I've prettied up on Canva & BeFunky, the two graphics sites I use. I've learned computer graphic over the last couple of years, & that's very gratifying! Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. 




1880  
14 years old

The following summer Jeannie and her gang were lounging outside the candy store on the boardwalk. Jeannie, Mike, Casey and Juan were leaning back against the building’s weatherboarding, their legs outstretched. Ambrose and Chuck were reclining against the street railings. Hat brims were pulled down low. Between sucks on penny candies, they were puffing on cigarettes, and smoke lazily curled upward. Casey tapped ash onto the boardwalk, blew a cloud of smoke from between smiling lips and lifted his hat brim. He whipped his fringe from his face and grinned at Ambrose.
    “So, Ambrose, how’d ya manage t’get hold o’ these smokes, huh?”
    Ambrose grinned back. “Easy. My Pa had several packs in the parlour. Didn’t think he’d miss a pack.”
    They all chuckled, drew on their cigarettes and Ambrose sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips. He coughed and put his fist to his mouth. Mike frowned at him. 
    “You all right?”
    “Tryin’ t’make smoke circles.”
    The others laughed and tried to follow suit. Jeannie gave a broad grin. “Ah know how ya supposed t’do it. Frank showed me.”
    Mike stared at her. “Did he?”
    “Sure did.”
    Casey turned to face her. “Go on then, do it.”
    “Right, ya suck in a mouthful of smoke, press yer tongue against the bottom of yer mouth, pretend t’suck a lollipop, like this …” She sucked her cheeks and lips in. “Open yer mouth to form an O, click yer lower jaw forward and blow.” But when she tried she ended up coughing crazily, her hand to her mouth, her face red. “Practice makes perfect, huh?” she managed to wheeze.
    The boys laughed out loud. There followed a long pause.
    Casey gazed at her. “Uh … Jeannie … don’t ever change, huh?” He scratched his head in embarrassment. Jeannie pushed her hat brim off her face and grinned at him. 
    “What? Huh? What ya goin’ on about, Casey Simmons?”
    “Well, you’re nearly fifteen, an’ most gals your age are learnin’ domestics an’ talkin’ about what they look like n’ worryin’ ’bout findin’ men. They ain’t excitin’. Not much fun. You cain’t make a real pal outta most gals.”
    She grinned at him and Casey’s nose creased in contempt. “Try talkin’ t’most gals our age an’ whaddya get? Blushes an’ giggles an’ lil’ itsy bitsy chitchat. Yuk!” He flung his head back against the wall, his fringe flying, and banged his skull. Cursing, he gave it a rub and yanked his hat down over his eyes.
    Jeannie chuckled and her eyes sparkled. 
    “Why, Ah thank ye, Casey Simmons … Ah think.”
    Casey lifted his hat brim again and regarded her. He adored her. She fitted his criteria of a how a girl should be. He broke his contemplation. 
    “Looked in a mirror lately?’”
    The others spluttered with laughter and grinned. They gazed at her. Chuck raised an eyebrow. 
    “Yeah – have ya?”
    She sat bolt upright, and her widened eyes fixed upon Chuck. 
    “Now why should Ah be wantin’ t’do that? Ain’t Ah s’posed t’be the kinda gal who don’t indulge in such antics, huh?”
    Her intent gaze discomfited Chuck, and he turned away, blushing. He distractedly drew on his cigarette and blew smoke. 
    “Wal, maybe you should look in a mirror. You’re growin’ up, Jeannie Morgan, an’ it’s showin’. An’ you’re amazingly beautiful for a kid.”
    Mike gazed absently into the distance and nodded. 
    “He’s right. You are.”
    “Thankee.



A Year Later...


Buck Webster perched on his ladder, was polishing his gun store window and humming. He puffed on the glass then rubbed the misted area. The doorbell jangled and Jeannie walked in, accompanied by a waft of cool air. The floorboards creaked. She wore a man’s shirt and tight trousers, and her sexuality was beginning to take hold. Webster’s tune ceased, his throat jumped. She leaned against his counter, crossed her ankles and cast her paralytic gaze at him. His nerves twitched. She grinned. “Nice winders, Mr Webster.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Jeannie. How can I help you?”

He stepped down from his ladder and smiled. She swept a critical gaze over the glass display case beneath the counter.

“Ah need a gun.” She would be partaking in the next drive, and gun ownership was a necessity. “Uh-huh? What type?”

Webster swung behind his counter and gestured at his display of revolvers under the glass. “Plenty here.” A roll of black velvet lay to one side on the counter. He unrolled it, smoothed it out, and removed a selection of weapons laying them carefully on the velvet. He took a breath and indicated the first revolver.

“This here’s a .36 calibre Navy Colt. Used widely during the Civil War.” “Yup. Know about that. Read about it.” “Okay. Well … this one’s a Derringer, a single-shot weapon.” “Yup. Know about that. Aunt Martha carries one.” He pointed at a long-barrelled revolver. “And that’s the single-action Buntline Special with its 12-inch barrel.” She pointed at the next revolver and her eyes sparkled.

“Is that what I think it is?” “This is the Colt .45 Peacemaker. It’s a single-action revolver used by the army. A solid six-shot. Very popular. That’s a walnut grip—” “Ah know. I’ve read an’ heard a lot about it, too.” Her cool exterior belied hidden excitement. Her gaze weaved from one weapon to the other, observing the finely crafted workmanship, the smooth metals, the attention to detail. Her gaze contemplated. She bit her lower lip in thought. She lingered over the Colt, hesitated, then picked it up and studied it. She balanced it on a finger, then, firmly holding the grip in both hands at arm’s length, lowered it to look along the barrel through the sight, one eye shut. She put it down and picked up the Navy Colt. Mike’s pistol was a Navy Colt and she’d used that. She repeated her inspection. She returned to the Peacemaker and picked it up again. She held the barrel briefly in her left hand then, right finger looped through the trigger guard, smoothly, quickly, twirled it. Webster gaped.

“Jees …” “Got a holster for it?”

She held the weapon possessively, turning it over, studying it. Webster rummaged beneath his counter and withdrew a tooled, tanned belt. It hung invitingly between his hands but she restrained herself from grabbing it. He smiled.

“This is about your size, but it’ll cost you a month’s wages.” She cast him a penetrating gaze, her eyes deeply hooded.

“Ah bin savin’.” She slung it around her hips and buckled up. The engraved brass buckle glinted. She slotted the Colt into the holster, withdrew the gun, spun it, and rehoused it with dexterity. Webster’s eyes rounded on her flexing hand. She adopted her cockeyed grin.

“Bin practisin’.” “I can see that. Want more? On ma gun range out back?” “Uh-huh.” Webster produced a box of cartridges from a drawer, then led the way through the rear door into the back yard. A row of six previously holed cans stood on posts, ready for her signature. She slid the Colt from the holster, and, using both hands, thumbed the loading gate open, cocked the hammer two clicks and spun the cylinder. She grinned. Smooth. Feels good. She loaded a bullet into each of the six chambers, thumbed the gate closed and flipped her jacket out of the way. She parted her feet and relaxed her arms at her sides. Webster stood back. She drew, fired with slightly bent knees, first thumb busting three shots then fanning the final three. Exploding cans clattered into the dirt. Webster jerked, blinked. The smell of gunfire permeated the air and the echo died down. His jaw dropped.

“Jesus!” She cleanly spun the weapon into her holster. Webster’s eyes circled. His jaw hung. He turned to face Jeannie’s grin and heavy-lidded eyes. She stood with her weight on one leg, her fingers spread on her hips. He swallowed.

    “Jeannie,” he croaked. “I ain’t never seen no-one that fast, an’ that’s a fact. An’ my guess is that weren’t no fluke. You’s summat, gal, make no mistake.”

    He stood transfixed, shaking his head in astonishment, his gaze bolted to the girl gunslinger. His head shaking, he strode back inside, Jeannie at his rear. He flipped back behind his counter.

    “Guess you’re buyin’ that gun?”     “Sure. Feels good.”     “I could see that.”

    He smiled dryly, his own eyes hooded. The transaction completed, he regarded her.                “Jeannie …”

    She met his gaze. “Uh-huh?”     He lowered his eyes from that relentless gaze. “Be careful, gal.” Her scrutiny turned him pink. “Just be careful, huh?”     “Uh-huh.”     He sighed. “Folks’ll kill me fer sellin’ this to ya!”     She flashed that grin and winked at him, then swaggered out through the door with her acquisition round her hips and a whistle on her lips. Webster might have had misgivings, but his thoughts arose unwittingly: Goddammit – she’s lookin’ good … She strode the sidewalk at ease, loving her new image. Folk paused, gaped, murmured, “Oh, Lord …!” However, their lingering scrutinizing silently admitted her audacity … together with those looks … She could not deny the truth either; they were gazing at her with new dread, and she quelled a chuckle in her belly.









Book 2 - The Outlaw's Return


1887

21 yrs old

Working her way through Colorado.


Girl Gunslinger Gains Reputation

Correspondent Wells Blackburn – April 20th 1887 


'Jeannie Morgan is becoming a familiar name in Colorado. This young woman, a unique individual in many ways, is drifting the west and leading five young male friends who appear to be acting as her protectors – but not in the usual sense of masculine protection. Miss Morgan needs no protection in that respect. The protection she seeks concerns her nature. It is a queer one – she is a woman who has romantic notions for others of her gender as well as those for men.


Her appearance and manner are devastating, and when she enters a room, all eyes are upon her. She equals men in height, and male clothing in the style of a cowboy adorns her with panache. Miss Morgan, unlike the majority of women of the great frontier, is far from ugly or plain. Rather the opposite. She is boyish, slim and athletic, and her piercing pale blue eyes are hypnotic. This woman is – indeed – extraordinary. She clearly possesses warmth, a rollicking humour and a flamboyant manner, but she can just as easily dramatically transform into a frightening coldness. It has been noted by observers that she is competent in the fight, but her phenomenal gun hand – fast and accurate – is sensational. Challenges by intrigued and jealous gunmen threaten her daily – a matter usually ascribed to the male sex. She has been known to kill in self-defence.


Miss Morgan is leaving a trail of jealousy in her wake as a result of her notoriety and her more positive qualities, one of which is her adoration of children, who idolise her in return. As if this were not enough, both men and women develop fancies for her, often unwittingly and beyond their better judgement. Even those who detest her – and there are many – are seduced by her. The woman is a paradox. Her apparent fearlessness instils awe in strong men. No-one quite knows how to handle her, and no-one knows when – and where – she and her boys will turn up.'









ALIAS JEANNIE DELANEY - THE STORYLINE     

Badass pants-wearing tomboy beauty Jeannie Morgan grows to be a cowgirl & the fastest gun west of the Mississippi. But when she discovers that her sexuality is as fluid as a miner's whiskey & both men & women enjoy her magnificent lovemaking, she feels as though she's been trampled by a cattle stampede. 

She's born in vibrant New Orleans in 1865 and strongly rebels against the upbringing of a Victorian girl. The family head west where she finds her true calling on her Pa's ranch. However, the explosive mix of her looks, her charismatic power, her lethal gun & finally her sexuality go against her & the townsfolk want her out or dead. 

How will she survive? Or will those very qualities see her through to a charismatic conclusion?


  Available as e-novel & paperback & on Kindle Unlimited.


IF YOU'VE READ & ENJOYED THE STORY SO FAR, 

I'D BE INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL IF YOU COULD LEAVE A POSITIVE REVIEW ON AMAZON. 

THANK YOU SO MUCH!





                ALIAS JEANNIE DELANEY BOOKS 1 & 2  HAVE APPEARED IN 
                                    THE FOLLOWING BLOGS & ON YOUTUBE:



















Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , , ,

Friday, 21 March 2025

SURREAL - I'M BEING READ ALL OVER (THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE)!

SURREAL - 
I'M BEING READ ALL OVER 
(THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE)!



I'm not one to boast. I'm a modest person. Don't like to show off. Never have been. I've been told umpteen times that it's time to tell it as it is. Okay.

It feels surreal and I'm highly bemused. All those people (not just friends and family) globally (UK, Canada and the US - it might as well be all over the world) reading the words I created in response to an idea I formed in my teens as a result of the lack of decent roles for women in westerns.

Very strange feeling, all those readers.

I began writing over intermittent periods between starting my family forty years ago, until a year and a half ago. With the help of my brilliant PA hubby, I self-published Alias Jeannie Delaney - Book 1 - Go West, Girl!. A year later I published Book 2 - The Outlaw's Return. I'm currently editing Book 3 (doing well so far) which will be launched this summer. 

We - PA hubby, daughter and son - knew the story would sell, but not how well it would sell. They knew that I would sell to family and friends out of the kindness of their hearts, and a smattering of readers through Amazon, and maybe manage to sell two hundred and fifty copies, which seems to be the average number that self-published books manage, but when I reached well over a thousand readers...  Plus I have a growing number of reviews, most of them five star. I should be/am bloody proud of myself. 

My writing has improved immeasurably over the years - I jolly well hope so! 😄 I look back at my writing from when I first started and it's good but so... school girly (my apologies to all schoolgirls). Even only a few years ago I was still improving. The truth is it never stops. One's writing improves every time one puts quill to parchment or fingers to keyboard. 


My successful author daughter writes period corset rippers and has made US best seller lists (Americans love British history!). We're delighted. It felt surreal to us that she had made it as an author. So imagine how I feel now that my novels are reaching the sweaty palms of readers in the western hemisphere. Surreal doesn't cut it. I'm bemused, mostly. 

We've been using Facebook advertising and my reader number continues to rise. I'm incredibly pleased (not when I'm mentally down, which is frequent, but I'm working on that) because my very nich-ey subject matter won't appeal to everyone. Of course it won't. A life story of a dynamic pants-wearing cowgirl whose gun is the fastest west of the Mississippi, and who is a magnificent lover to both men and women, isn't going to hack it for a whole lotta people. Not their mug of snake bite indeed. 

Traditional westerners who like their male heroes leaving their women toiling at home are highly likely not to enjoy it. People who don't approve of my subject matter won't like it. Never mind. On the subject of negativity, Oscar Wilde quoted: "There's only one thing worse than being talked about, and that's not being talked about." 😄 Love it! I can also use that negativity to my advantage, marketing wise. There are thousands of people who do enjoy it. People who identify as LGBTQ+, women who love and crave a strong female protagonist, particularly in a western, lovers of westerns with a twist. And so forth. But no - we didn't expect it to reach these dizzy heights. 

Several things have contributed towards its success. Apparently a quality read (so my editor told me - the first professional to assure me of that). Striking cover designs. I'm an artist so collaborated with my designer, and the illustrations are based on images I'd created to visualise Jeannie. Book 2 - The Outlaw's Return used an image I made in my school's common room between O'Level exams (as they were then) back in 1969, the year Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid came out in cinemas. (Incidentally that film was a huge influence to me, providing humour and a great story. Another reason I seem to be doing well is consistent promotion. Hubby and I also have the advantage of maturity, experience and wisdom. He was a businessman and I worked in advertising studios. 

The story covers half a lifetime and each novel is lengthy (don't ask me how long, I was too busy writing to think about that, but they're about an inch thick). Slowly and surely I'm gaining exposure. It will take time and I'm not patient. I've been featured in a couple of blogs run by acquaintances - one's a writer, the other is an all-round creative. The other feature is on a Reader's Magnet Festival of Storytellers YouTube clip. The links are below.

On that note, thank you so much for dropping in! 



 


A WILD WEST LIVING HISTORY 
EVENT MANY YEARS AGO -
MEAN & MOODY.



Dynamic pants-wearing cowgirl Jeannie Morgan is tomboy beautiful and the fastest gun west of the Mississippi - her snake strike speed and aim are legendary. Her extraordinary sexuality is as fluid as a miner's whiskey, and men and women alike enjoy the magnificence of her love making.

Jeannie must navigate the grit and sweat of the wild frontier and face her desires and identity through deadly confrontations as she seeks acceptance in this big, bad world and kill or be killed. She takes on roles deemed only suitable for men, but her powerful persona and lethal gun make her the perfect candidate. Will she find what she seeks - acknowledgement and acceptance? Or will her tomboy beauty, her powerful persona and her lethal gun finally be the death of her?

IF YOU'VE READ & ENJOYED THE STORY SO FAR, I'D BE INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL IF YOU COULD LEAVE A POSITIVE REVIEW ON AMAZON. THANK YOU SO MUCH!



Book 2 The Outlaw's Return



MY ORIGINAL DRAWINGS OF 
JEANNIE







TWO CHAPTER SAMPLES
BOOK 1 



















BOOK 2 










Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)