Non-Fiction Books

Build a Believable World How essential is setting to a story? How much description is too much? In what ways do details and setting tie into plot and character development? How can you use setting and description to add depth to your story? You can find all the answers you need in Write Great Fiction: Description & Setting by author and instructor Ron Rozelle . This nuts-and-bolts guide - complete with practical exercises at the end of each chapter - gives you all the tips and techniques you need to: • Establish a realistic sense of time and place • Use description and setting to drive your story • Craft effective description and setting for different genres • Skillfully master showing vs. telling With dozens of excerpts from some of today's most popular writers, Write Great Fiction: Description & Setting gives you all the information you need to create a sharp and believable world of people, places, events, and actions.

The story of the author's thirty-year career in Texas prisons, from his first night as a shotgun-wielding guard to the last man he accompanied to the death chamber, Willett remembers not just the big events of his career but the small ones that give prison life its texture. In measured but powerful prose, he describes the efficient actions of the tie-down team, the prisoner's often meandering last words, and the way that he himself lifted his glasses from his nose to signal the executioner to start the IV flow.

When Ron Rozelle and Bill Cornwell, the publisher of The Brazosport Facts, met for their annual lunch, Bill asked what current book Ron was writing. During lunch, they agreed that Ron should try his hand at a weekly column. Ron saw an opportunity both to allow his imagination to wander and to flex his writing muscles. And so, it started. Each week, readers opened their Sunday morning papers to find a column devoted to whatever topic was at hand, be it wizards, geese, holidays, loss, John Wayne, his feline quartet, or sandwiches. Sundays with Ron Rozelle is a collection of these Sunday columns, characterized by open conversational charm that invites the reader to linger over coffee. Just as Robert Frost's famous poem "The Pasture" concludes with "you come, too," Ron beckons to us: you come, too. Through this warm and thoughtful collection, we realize what really matters in our lives.

Mark Twain couldnt have penned a finer boyhood than mine. I was Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer rolled into one, and Harrisonburg was any moon-washed river town that Huck and Jim would have floated past on their raft. While much of the nation forged headlong into the relatively new century, shooting skyscrapers higher and higher and flying aircraft unfathomable distances, Harrisonburg and its neighboring towns clung comfortably to the past, making do with mostly one story buildings, as many horse-drawn wagons as motorcars, and boats that had slowly plied the river for decades. Anyone making their way up to the town from the river had to pass the top of the bluff, between a pair of businesses owned by Arch Aplin, Esquire. Who was, in addition to being my father, a walking embodiment of an entrepreneur. One business being a cotton gin and the other a general mercantile store. Before I was old enough to venture out on my own or to go to school, my mother would take me with her to the store every early morning and Id stay there all day, watching the shoppers come and go. When it was time for a nap, Id stretch out on a cot in the back room and close my eyes and take in all the smells of the place and listen as women chattered away around the stove. The jingling bell over the front door and the clanging of the cash register are perhaps the earliest sounds I remember. Theyve played like a sweet tune down the years. Ive finally come to realize that they really might have been more than just pleasing sounds. They may have been a sirens call to the inviting waters of commerce.

On March 18, 1937, a spark ignited a vast pool of natural gas that had collected beneath the school building in New London, a tiny community in East Texas. The resulting explosion leveled the four-year-old structure and resulted in a death toll of more than three hundred—most of them children. To this day, it is the worst school disaster in the history of the United States. The tragedy and its aftermath were the first big stories covered by Walter Cronkite, then a young wire service reporter stationed in Dallas. He would later say that no war story he ever covered—during World War II or Vietnam—was as heart-wrenching. In the weeks following the tragedy, a fact-finding committee sought to determine who was to blame. It soon became apparent that the New London school district had, along with almost all local businesses and residents, tapped into pipelines carrying unrefined gas from the plentiful oil fields of the area. It was technically illegal, but natural gas was in abundance in the “Oil Patch.” The jerry-rigged conduits leaked the odorless “green” gas that would destroy the school. A long-term effect of the disaster was the shared guilt experienced—for the rest of their lives—by most of the survivors. There is, perhaps, no better example than Bill Thompson, who was in his fifth grade English class and “in the mood to flirt” with Billie Sue Hall, who was sitting two seats away. Thompson asked another girl to trade seats with him. She agreed—and was killed in the explosion, while Thompson and Hall both survived and lived long lives, never quite coming to terms with their good fortune. My Boys and Girls Are in There: The 1937 New London School Explosion is a meticulous, candid account by veteran educator and experienced author Ron Rozelle. Unfolding with the narrative pace of a novel, the story woven by Rozelle—beginning with the title—combines the anguished words of eyewitnesses with telling details from the historical and legal record. Released to coincide with the seventy-fifth anniversary of the New London School disaster, My Boys and Girls Are in There paints an intensely human portrait of this horrific event.

After an undisputed record of political achievement—leading the decisive battle for Texas independence at San Jacinto, serving twice as president of the Republic of Texas, twice again as a United States senator after annexation, and finally as governor of Texas—Sam Houston found himself in the winter of his life in a self-imposed exile among the pines of East Texas. Houston was often a bundle of complicated contradictions. He was a spirited advocate for public education but had little formal education himself. He was very much “a Jackson man” but disagreed with his mentor on the treatment of Native Americans. He was a slaveholder who opposed abolition but scuttled his own political reputation by resisting the South’s move toward secession. After refusing to take an oath of loyalty to the Confederacy in 1861, Houston was swiftly evicted from the governor’s office. “Let me tell you what is coming,” he later said from a window at the Tremont Hotel in Galveston. “After the sacrifice of countless millions of treasure and hundreds of thousands of lives, you may win Southern independence if God be not against you, but I doubt it.” Houston died just two years later, and the nation was indeed fractured. Ron Rozelle’s masterful biographical portrait here lingers on Houston’s final years, especially as lived out in Huntsville, when so much of his life’s work seemed on the verge of coming undone. Artfully written for the general reader, Exiled: The Last Days of Sam Houston is a compelling look at Sam Houston’s legacy and twilight years.