Guest- Cindy Nord

Today my Guest is Cindy Nord. She's a historical romance author and a fun person. Check out this interview.

Why do you enjoy writing historical romance?

Cindy: Thanks so much for the wonderful invite to visit your blog, Paty, and what a great question! I’ll begin with the words HISTORICAL DETAILING. Indeed, what I relish most about writing, aside from the love story, of course, is the indisputable minutiae that breathes my characters into life:  the pinch of an evening corset, the plushness of an Aubusson carpet beneath morning slippers, the glint of firelight off an ivory cameo pinned at my heroine’s throat, or, yes, even the weight of a .44 caliber Colt in my hero’s palm. Specifics such as these engulf my readers into my characters’ lives. The elements for a “perfect love story” are varied, but … to me … ’tis the challenge of seamlessly melding history around an ardent romance filled with sensations that tug at my readers’ heartstrings. As a child of educators, I’ve always possessed a love of history, so my passion for weaving words around rich, authentic detailing began many years ago. With a strong belief in “happily-ever-after,” I set the first novel, No Greater Glory (a Romance Writer’s of America National Golden Heart finalist & book one in my four-book The Cutteridge series), in a time period I know so well: the Civil War years. My deep appreciation for American history allows me to utilize particulars of the past to draw my readers ever deeper into my storylines. For example, research such as …

Passementerie detailing

Passementerie — no Idle hands!

Oh, those wily Victorians … a lady’s time was never spent frivolously. Indeed, the order of the day was usually needlework! Trained from childhood, a well-bred Victorian lady used colored silk threads, or spun gold or silver cording to create tassels and braids, fringe or elaborate ruching. And she proudly displayed her passementerie on everything from her portières that hung in arched doorways, to the very day wear and ball gowns that adorned her body.

The word passementerie (French for edging) is a mighty big word and played an even bigger role in her life. Knowing the importance of such tasks helps to make my characters real. And yet, busy hands made for idle minds, especially for a lady. So, what did they think about while they were focused on their handiwork, one may ask? Well, since I’m a writer who relishes details of the past woven around conflict, I’m inclined to believe my heroine in my latest book was thinking about “falling in love” … or, rather trying NOT to fall in love with my hero … lol. ♥

What do you do in your spare time?

passementerie shuttles

My readers have given me the gift of my career, and meeting them at booksigning events and conferences is such a joy. Also, since my husband and I are well-informed of American history, we’ve had the opportunity to present programs coast to coast. More specifically, we focus on my knowledge of the Victorian fashions of the era and his expertise in military artifacts from the Civil War.  We been honored by the invitations to be keynote presenters with this very program at the Romantic Times Conference in Dallas, several major universities across America, and even all the way to the Historical Romance Retreat in Spokane, Wash. Other writing events, as well as research, also keeps me quite busy. And speaking of that, I’ll be at our local Barnes & Noble on December 17^th, for a Christmas book signing. I do so love the holidays.

Do you write by the seat of your pants (pantser), or do you carefully plot your stories (plotter)?
Another great question!! ☺ I’m a pantser all the way … ’cause I write as I live … impulsively…lol.  And my stories evolve into a crazy life all their own. And, oh, the frustration felt when characters decide to go right when I want them to go left! Nonetheless, I’ve learned to listen to them, so I guess this complicated process does work for me. As master craftsman Dwight Swain said in his fabulous book Techniques of the Selling Writer: “One need know only four things in order to write a solid story: How to group words into motivation-reaction units; how to group motivation-reaction units into scenes and sequels; how to group scenes and sequels into story pattern; and finally, how to create the kind of characters that give a story life.” Yep, it’s just that easy. And just that HARD!

What are you working on now?
I’m currently crafting By Any Means, my final book in the Cutteridge series [although each novel does stand alone], which is scheduled to debut next summer. And researching an 1870 Kentucky setting, as well as the gambling riverboats that plied the mighty Mississippi and Ohio Rivers during that timeframe, is proving to be a sheer delight. Getting my characters to their “happily-ever-afters” is a hard-won journey, for sure. I welcome each and every new reader on board for the glorious ride! Please, pop in to my website at www.cindynord.com -- or – follow my facebook page (which I affectionately call my ‘Coffee Klatch’) at https://www.facebook.com/cindy.nord.9 -- where I love to share daily historical tidbits, and so many other fun thoughts and things that embrace my historical romance writing days.  I truly hope to see everyone there!!

CONTEST!! And now, Paty, ‘tis my turn to ask your lovely bloggers a question! 


QUESTION: What is your favorite part of the holidays?
(I’ll drop the name of all who comment below into my lil’ wicker basket & draw out my winner in the morning who will be gifted with a choice of any of my books in whatever format she/he chooses.) 

Happy Holidays, everyone…Long Live Historical Romance. ☺

About Cindy Nord: Say hello to Bestselling Historical Romance writer, CINDY NORD...the USA Today 'Recommended Read' author of NO GREATER GLORY, the #1 Civil War Romance at Amazon for over one full year, and book one in her four-book 'The Cutteridge' Series. WITH OPEN ARMS, book two, debuted in August, 2014, and zoomed straight to a #1 Bestselling Western Historical Romance. Book three, AN UNLIKELY HERO, made its debut July 1st, 2016, and by midnight hit the 'Top 100 Romances' list at Amazon. Book four, BY ANY MEANS, is due for release July, 2017. Cindy is also honored to be a contributing author alongside notable NYTimes writers in the delightful SCRIBBLING WOMEN & THE REAL-LIFE ROMANCE HEROES WHO LOVE THEM. All proceeds from this non-fiction anthology go straight to charity. She is a member of numerous writers groups, and her work has finaled or won countless times in competitions -- including the prestigious Romance Writers of America National Golden Heart Contest. Even PBS Television came calling to interview her regarding her love of writing. A luscious blend of history and romance, her stories meld both genres around fast-paced action and emotionally driven characters. Please join Cindy at her Facebook page for her Monday-thru-Friday morning "Coffee Klatch" -- as well as on Twitter at @cnord2. Indeed, true love awaits you in the writings of Cindy Nord.  

Cindy’s books: https://www.amazon.com/Cindy-Nord/e/B008VJZSPE/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1480369071&sr=8-1
 

 NO GREATER GLORY:

Amid the carnage of war, he commandeers far more than just her home.

Widowed plantation owner Emaline McDaniels has struggled to hold on to her late husband’s dreams. Despite the responsibilities resting on her slender shoulders, she’ll not let anyone rip away what’s left of her way of life—particularly a Yankee officer who wants to set up winter camp on her land. With a defiance born of desperation, she defends her home as though it were the child she never had…and no mother gives up her child without a fight.

Despite the brazen wisp of a woman pointing a gun at his head, Colonel Reece Cutteridge has his orders. Requisition Shapinsay—and its valuable livestock—for his regiment’s use, and pay her with Union vouchers. He never expected her fierce determination, then her concern for his wounded, to upend his heart—and possibly his career. As the armies go dormant for the winter, battle lines are drawn inside the mansion. Yet just as their clash of wills shifts to forbidden passion, the tides of war sweep Reece away. And now their most desperate battle is to survive the war with their lives—and their love—intact.

Zip over here to read the opening:  https://amzn.com/B008GWOI9S

 

WITH OPEN ARMS:

A war-weary ex-soldier.  An untamable hellion.  Love doesn’t stand a chance in hell…

Hardened in childhood by the death of her parents, then left to run the family’s southwestern territory ranch when her brother rode off to fight for the Union years before, Callie Cutteridge hides her heartbreak behind a mask of self-sufficiency. Breaking horses for the army proves she’s neither delicate nor helpless. When a former cavalry officer shows up claiming to own her brother’s half of the Arizona ranch, she steels herself to resist the handsome stranger’s intention to govern even one single aspect of her life. After all, loving means losing…to her it always has.

For months, Jackson Neale has looked forward to putting the bloodstained battlefields back east behind him. Callie isn’t the agreeable angel her brother led him to believe, but he’s damned well not the useless rake this foul-mouthed hellion thinks he is, either. His quest for calm stability contradicts sharply with her need for control, yet still their heartstrings tangle. But how can these mistrusting partners transform their fiery passion into a happily- ever-after when all Callie knows how to do is fight…and all Jackson wants is peace?

ZIP over here to read the opening:  https://amzn.com/B00KT23WO0

AN UNLIKELY HERO (for a limited time only .99¢ ):

 He’s a hard-as-stone army scout with a broken past...and she’s a reminder of all he’s lost.

Rugged army scout Dillon Reed has met his match in spoiled Boston debutante Alma Talmadge, but an unwanted assignment escorting the beauty across the wilds of America soon evolves into a journey of monumental change for them both. With killers hot on their trail, the odds of staying alive are stacked against them…and yet, falling in love was nowhere in their plans for survival.

ZIP over here to read the opening:  https://amzn.com/B01HMVIAYW  

  

CONNECT with Cindy via her SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:  

My webpage:   https://www.cindynord.com

My Amazon Author Page:  https://amazon.com/author/www.cindynord.com

An Unlikely Hero buy link:   https://amzn.com/B01HMVIAYW

No Greater Glory buy link:   https://amzn.com/B008GWOI9S

With Open Arms buy link:  https://amzn.com/B00KT23WO0

Barnes & Noble NOOK link (With Open Arms) buy link:   https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/with-open-arms-cindy-nord/1119742281?ean=9781619225435

Barnes & Noble NOOK link (No Greater Glory) buy link:    https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/no-greater-glory-cindy-nord/1112120177?ean=9781619212435

Barnes & Noble NOOK link (An Unlikely Hero) buy link:   http://bit.ly/29irk5j

Apple/iBooks (All Three Books) buy links:   https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/an-unlikely-hero/id1128489909?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4     

Facebook ‘Coffee Klatch’ site:    https://www.facebook.com/cindy.nord.9

Twitter:   https://twitter.com/cnord2

Goodreads (With Open Arms):  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22441708-with-open-arms

LinkedIn:   https://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=25784664&trk=nav_responsive_tab_profile

Google+:  https://plus.google.com/u/0/+CindyNord9/posts/p/pub

Pinterest:  http://www.pinterest.com/cnord2/

Guest Annette Drake and Celebration House

Welcome, Annette Drake. 

I grew up in rural Missouri. Whenever I traveled along scenic Highway 24, I drove past a dilapidated two-story brick house just outside the small town of Dover. The house had white columns and big front windows, most of which were broken. Every year, the house fell more and more into disrepair. A tree grew out of the upstairs balcony. One day, I saw a pickup truck parked at the abandoned house. I felt bold, and I stopped. The man there told me the house had been in his family for years. Slave labor had built it. The bricks were fired in a kiln at the end of the driveway. To restore the structure would cost more than the family thought it was worth, so the house slowly fell in on itself.

Years later, I woke from a dream about a house just like this one. In my dream, a woman bought an abandoned antebellum house, restored it and opened it to the general public. Among her obstacles were the ghosts that lived there. This dream would become Celebration House.

At the time I had this dream, I was working as a registered nurse in the cath lab at a large hospital in Seattle, Washington. I cared for patients whose hearts were failing them. Often, there would be down-time between cases while we waited for the physician or prepared the procedural room, and I would ask patients about themselves. I wanted to hear their stories. I remember caring for a middle-aged man who told me he had suddenly lost all of his energy and stamina. On a good day, the best he could hope for was to get up, take a shower, and go back to bed. That was his day. He was an intelligent, articulate man who had been robbed of his life. Although I met him more than six years ago, I can still hear his voice.

All of these things came together to build Celebration House, but I didn’t finish writing the book until life threw me a curveball. I was fired from my position in the cardiac ICU at a hospital in my community. After working a 12-hour night shift, my manager called me into her office and told me I didn’t have the critical-care skills to care for such ill patients. She introduced me to the manager of the ICU step-down unit and told me to apply for a position there. Meanwhile, I didn’t need to return to work that night or any other.

Now, I had time to write but little money and perhaps less self-esteem. I needed a win. I revised Celebration House and submitted to about five publishers. On April 10^th, Tirgearr Publishing offered me a contract. I said yes. Had I not been fired - had I not failed in the role of ICU nurse - Celebration House would still be sitting on a shelf in my closet. Unfinished and forgotten.

My main character, Carrie Hansen, knows something about failure. Her health fails. Her marriage fails. Her dream of being a mother fails. With these strikes against her, it would be easy to give up, but Carrie is determined that there will be more to her life than these disappointments. She is determined that more will define her than a diagnosis. She leaves Seattle and moves back to her childhood home of Lexington, Missouri. There she buys a derelict antebellum house and restores it. She offers it as a venue for weddings or class reunions, a house for celebrations.

My goal for this book is to entertain my readers. But I also hope that the men and women who read this book will find comfort in its pages and agree that out of failure comes unimaginable success. Success for me, for Carrie and perhaps for themselves.

Celebrate your life!

Annette Drake

Annette Drake is an aspiring writer whose work is character-driven and celebrates the law of unintended consequences. Her debut novel, Celebration House, will be published this summer in e-book format for readers everywhere by Tirgearr Publishing.
Annette left high school after two years to obtain her GED and attend Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri. There she earned a degree in journalism before working as a reporter and editor for newspapers in Missouri and Kansas. She earned a bachelor of science in nursing in 1994 from Rockhurst University in Kansas City, Missouri, and worked as a registered nurse in hospitals throughout Missouri, Alaska and Washington for 18 years before returning her focus to writing
Annette recently completed her middle-grade novel, Bone Girl, and is hard at work revising her steamy contemporary romance, A Year with Geno.
She is the mother of four children. The oldest just graduated from the University of Washington; the youngest just graduated from kindergarten. She is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators. She loves libraries, basset hounds and bakeries. She does not camp.

You can follow her writing at www.Annettedrake.com. She welcomes correspondence at: Write2me@annettedrake.com.

Celebration House Blurb:

Carrie Hansen spent her life caring for cardiac patients. Little did she know she would become a patient herself. After recovering from her own heart surgery, she realizes she has a special gift: the ability to see and talk with the dead.

Now, with her new heart failing, she leaves the bustle of Seattle behind and returns to Lexington, Missouri, the small town where she spent her childhood. Here, she sets out to restore an abandoned antebellum mansion and open it as a venue for celebrations.

Carrie’s work is cut out for her. The 150-year-old Greek revival house is in need of serious repair. Her sister, Melanie, tries to bully Carrie into returning to Seattle, predicting “her little project” is doomed to fail. Finally, Carrie’s health gives out on her, requiring emergency surgery.

But she will not give up. Carrie’s unique gift allows her to build relationships with the mansion’s original occupants, especially Maj. Tom Stewart, the handsome Civil War soldier who died a hundred years before Carrie was born. He encourages and comforts her, though not in the physical way they both desire.

Then there’s the builder of the house, Col. Bartholomew Stratton. If there’s one thing this 19th century horse trader cannot abide, it’s the living trespassing on his estate. He delights in scaring these intruders away, even if they are paying guests.

Will Carrie finish restoring Celebration House or will it finish her? And how can she plan a future with a man who has only a past?

Excerpt:

Driving up to the house, Carrie smiled. She loved the long driveway, the poplar trees on both sides. Behind the trees, the fences had fallen into disrepair. Just one more thing she’d have to fix. She parked her car alongside the house and stacked her groceries and camping gear on the front porch. Seeing a small barn behind the main building, she decided to explore and see if there was room to park her car inside.

            Carrie opened the door and stepped inside. Sunlight streamed in through the dirty windows. Even though the barn had been vacant for years, she smelled hay and horses.

            Looking to her left, she saw a man shaving. He was bare from the waist up, his chest finely proportioned, lean, and muscular. His arms were powerfully built, and his right hand remained steady as he scraped the white soap from his angular jaw. His dark blue uniform pants were tucked into black leather knee-high riding boots. He stood at least six foot tall, and though Carrie hadn’t made her living in the carnival, she guessed he was probably younger than her, likely in his mid 20s. He peered intently at a small mirror tacked up on one of the barn walls. She waited to speak until after he’d finished the last swipe with the ivory-handled straight blade and had dipped it into the basin of soapy water.

            “Good morning.”

            He turned towards her suddenly, his expression an equal mix of surprise and annoyance. He dropped the razor and grabbed his shirt off a nearby nail. He turned his back to Carrie and pulled it on.

            “You can see me, ma’am?” he asked, buttoning his shirt before stuffing it into his pants.

            “Yes. Do you see me?”

            “Yes, but I believe I have the advantage. I am dead. You are not.”

Wednesday Western- Nicole McCaffrey-western time travel

Please welcome my longtime critique partner and wonderful writer, Nicole McCaffrey. She's here to tell us about her newest book.

I’ve always loved the idea of writing a time travel story, but I knew if I ever made the attempt, I’d want a slightly different spin on it. Instead of sending a modern day woman back to be romanced by a man with 19^th century manners and morals (dreamy sigh) I wondered what would happen if I sent a 21^st century guy—accustomed to the looser morals of today’s society—back in time and introduced him to a 19^th century woman. My passion for the Civil War often leads me to that era for story settings, and I knew I’d want to incorporate that into the story. But that’s as far as I ever got.  The idea seemed destined to gather dust in the back of my imagination since I never could figure out where my characters would meet…or how.

Then one evening as I drove by an abandoned Greek Revival style house that I often drive past, I had one of those “eureka!” moments.

My hero would buy an abandoned old house with every intention of tearing it down.  He soon learns it was once the home of a famed Civil War spy, and on inspection of the home, he steps into one of the upstairs bedrooms and encounters her.  But is she real--or a ghost?

Below is the blurb for This Moment in Time and a brief excerpt—I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Leave a comment for a chance to win a free pdf of this story!

~*~

Not even captivity can sway Southern widow Josette Beaumont from spying for the Confederacy. Under the nose of the Union army, she willingly risks her life to pass information to her sources. Until a stranger appears in her bedroom one day with a cryptic message: stop spying or you'll die. She has no reason to believe his warnings about the future, but his company is the only solace in her long days of imprisonment and his friendship quickly comes to mean so much more. If only she could make the sacrifice he asks of her...

To hell with history, real estate mogul Jamie D'Alessandro has no intention of saving the historic mansion he's purchased, even if it is the home of a famous Confederate spy. But when he steps into an upstairs bedroom of the old house, time suddenly shifts, bringing him face to face with a very beautiful and irate Southern lady. Against his will he's drawn into her cause--to save the Confederacy. But Jamie has a cause of his own. According to his research the lady spy has only days to live. Should he change history to save the woman he loves--or sacrifice life in his own century to be with her for This Moment in Time?

The flash light glinted off the top of a framed painting. Jamie lowered the beam, illuminating the portrait. A woman with dark hair and smoldering dark eyes. A modest hint—downright puritan by today’s standards—of pale bosom peeked over the ruffled bodice of a white dress. Somehow that hint of creamy flesh seemed more forbidden—sexier — than any modern woman he’d ever seen. There was something prim and ladylike about her that made it feel wrong to stare at her like that. Was this the famous spy? Her name escaped him, but he made a mental note to learn more about her.

A loud thump from the second floor caught his attention. His heart leaped to his throat, and for a moment, he felt like a scared kid in a haunted house. He shook his head, chuckling at himself. The house had been locked up tight since the renovation team had come through to inspect it, there was no one around. Probably a rodent or critter had gotten inside. Still, he had no intention of spending the night listening to the scratching and thumping of a wild animal.

He shone the flashlight ahead of him until he found the winding, elegant staircase that led to the second floor. Common sense warned him not to trust the stairs; the old house was full of wood rot. But curiosity got the better of him and he tested the first step before putting his full weight on it, and the next, and the next. Fully expecting to go through the boards and land on his ass, he continued the same tenuous journey until he reached the second floor.

Amazed he’d actually made it, he gave a quick glance behind him, then began to move around the second story. Shining the light upward, he saw the staircase continued to a third floor, but wasn’t about to push his luck any further.

He paused, waiting until he heard the scratching again. With the beam of light at his feet to illuminate the floor, he took slow, cautious steps, following the sound. As he drew closer he paused, wondering if he should have brought something for protection. What if the creature was rabid?

Stepping fully into the room where he’d heard the noises, he paused to appreciate the huge windows that overlooked the valley. They didn’t make houses like this anymore, and while he had nothing but the utmost appreciation for the trappings of modern society, he had to admit, there was something about the way they built things a couple of centuries ago. They didn’t need high tech gadgets and expensive fabrics to scream wealth and elegance. It was right here in the architecture.

Forgetting himself for a moment, he stepped across the room. The loud groan of a floorboard caused him to freeze, wondering if the floor could support him. The banging now came from behind him. Heart suddenly pounding, he whirled. A door—to a closet, perhaps?— rattled insistently. He swallowed. He’d never believed in ghosts, had laughed off any notion that they existed. So what the hell was this?

As he stood there, a cold draft of air swirled about his feet. Wasn’t it supposed to get really cold when a ghost appeared? No, no, he wouldn’t allow his imagination to take him there. Dammit, he was James D’Alessandro III; he’d never allowed anyone or anything to intimidate him. It would take more than an abandoned old house to spook him.

On silent feet, he crossed the room to the door, mentally counting—one, two… three. He yanked it open. His breath left him in a relieved exhale. Nothing stood behind it. The cold breeze continued, whistling through a broken window. The branch of a tree had long since grown inside and as the wind blew, it scratched against the wall. A gust must have blown the door shut; that was probably the bang he’d heard from downstairs.

He took another deep breath to help slow his heart rate. While he was out gathering tools tomorrow, he’d have to get something to put over the window. He’d never get any rest with that door thumping all night long, and the air blowing inside would only make the house colder.

Chuckling at his own ridiculous fear, he started to turn. A voice—not the howling of the wind this time— and the sudden sensation of warmth at his back stilled him.

“Honestly, Sebastian, he can’t keep me locked up here much longer. I’ll go mad.”

A woman? She sounded calm, perhaps a little angry.

“Drat it, now I’ve lost count.” A heavy sigh followed. “The last I remember was twenty strokes, I’ll have to start over from there.”

Heart back in his throat, he turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. The first thing to greet him were the windows—the very same windows he’d admired moments ago. Only they were now adorned with white lace. To the left, a warm fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a golden glow across the gleaming hardwood floor. And directly in front of him, a dark gray cat lay sprawled across an ornate four poster bed, calmly grooming itself. It paused, tongue in mid stroke and stared up at him with curious green eyes.

“Twenty one. Twenty two. Twenty…”

Swallowing, he forced his gaze from the cat to the source of the voice. A woman sat at a vanity, tugging a brush through long, dark hair. In the mirror, he watched as her gaze moved from her reflection. To him. She let out a gasp. The brush fell from her hand. She whirled on her seat to face him.

“Wh—who are you?”

She could see him!

If it’s possible to be born a writer, then I certainly was.  I’d probably have started sooner if there had been pen and paper available in the womb! But for as long as I can remember, I have heard voices in my head.  Fortunately for me, they’re all characters—begging me to tell their stories.

I’ve been married to Peter, my best friend, for fifteen years, and am a work-at-home mom with two busy boys ages ten and twelve.  When I’m not working, writing, or buried nose-deep in a research book, chances are I’m baking, taking long walks with my beloved border collie mix or just kicking back and hanging with my guys.

 

Please visit my website www.nicolemccaffrey.com or my blog http://nicolemccaffrey.blogspot.com/.

This Moment in Time is available:

Kindle

The Wild Rose Press

Barnes & Noble

Wednesday Western- The Western Civil War Stronghold

The courtyard and tiers of Fort Point

During my vacation last week, I visited Fort Point located under the southern end of the Golden Gate Bridge. While I found everything about the fort fascinating, the fact that stuck in my head was the fact it was considered a stronghold during the Civil War.

Officer's quarters

The building of Fort Point began in 1853 by U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. It was situated to defend the maximum amount of harbor space with one artillery tier as close to the water as possible to use the cannon balls ricocheting across the water. Ninety foot of cliff was blasted down to fifteen feet above sea level. The walls were seven feet thick.  A multi-tiered casement allowed for heavy gun power.

Many unemployed miners were among the 200 men who worked for eight years to construct the fort. The first cannon was mounted in 1861. Col. Albert Sidney Johnston, commander of the Department of the Pacific ordered the first troops to the fort, then resigned his commission, joined the Confederate Army and was killed at the Battle of Shiloh in 1862.

Enlisted men's quarters

During the Civil War artillery-men stood guard. There were as many as 500 men from the U.S. Artillery, the 9th U.S. Infantry and the 8th California Volunteer Infantry garrisoned at the fort. Being so far from the actual war the soldiers spent their days in drills, artillery practice, inspections, sentry duty, and maintenance chores.Enlisted men bunked 24 to a casemate on the third tier; officers had single or double quarters on tier two.

The round bases held the cannons

The fort never saw battle. The Confederate raider CSS Shenandoah planned to attack San Francisco, but while in route August of 1865  learned the war was over.

The other information I found interesting dealt with the way the harbor was protected. There were five cannons strategically placed about the harbor. If a ship made it through the first two situated at Fort Point and Lime Point directly across from one another, there were three more; Angle Island, Alcatraz, and Point San Jose situated in a way to take down any intruders.

The solid rock circular stairway 

On October 16, 1970 a bill was signed by President Richard Nixon to make Fort Point a National Historic Site. It is a well preserved piece of our history.

Being a person who is always interested in how people lived and the day to day necessities, I looked for the privies which were said to be on all levels. I decided they were there the rooms directly behind the stairways on either end of the fort. They were rooms with no windows and the doorway was boarded up. Only a small corridor from either side of the stairway gave access to the room.