You Must Be The One To Write It

If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, you must be the one to write it. ~ Toni Morrison

“Toni Morrison – The Pieces I Am”, a 2019 documentary, was offered as a selection on a recent flight I took aboard American Airlines. I had heard about this film because a woman from my hometown, Sandra Guzman, was integral in making it. She looked for films on Toni, and finding none, decided to make one. And now the writer Toni is gone, but her physical presence has been forever captured in this excellent film.

I wanted to read a book about Jude Hall, black Revolutionary War soldier of Exeter, NH, and his wife Rhoda. But I could not find one. So, although I am not the most experienced writer, nevertheless I researched and wrote one: “Incident at Exeter Tavern.”

I am not a scholar, but an activist hoping to inspire local scholars and experienced writers. I found about Jude and the historic black community about two years ago and have been promoting awareness of it ever since on social media with a small PowerPoint of facts.

Inspired by Bryan Stephenson, I began a “Community Remembrance Project”, writing a small lineage report and setting a goal of sitting with 100 local people to share it with… and ask for help. I am up to about 75. If you read it, then it will be 76 🙂 Thanks!

Again, I am not a scholar or experienced writer, but I do hope you read my small mystery book, “Incident at Exeter Tavern”, and pass it on to others. I would appreciate it.

Or maybe write your own.

~~~~~~~~~~~ small report below~~~~~~~~~

2020 Overhaul: New Book, New Site

Hello friends!

It is 2020 and time for an overhaul, on many levels. I am sure you can feel this in your own lives. As for me, I put my newest book up online last week and then decided to overhaul my website. Many days later, I am now ready to present you with a new website that shows a more holistic view of my various endeavors:

This new site replaces the old and streamlines my sprawling array of websites, Facebook pages, Twitters. etc. It gets kinda crazy after a while, don’t you feel that too? So I had to downsize. Simplicity is one of my mottos, after all 🙂

Dedicated to Rhoda Hall,
Jude’s wife.

Now (drumroll) on to the new book, “Incident at Exeter Tavern”, which is the first in a trilogy of mini-mysteries all set in Exeter, NH. The books are historical-fiction in nature and will highlight some of the hidden histories of Exeter, all in the name of telling a more inclusive public history.

In the first book, the contributions of the local black soldiers in the Revolutionary War are dug up and dusted off. Strong women abound in my books, so expect a heavy dose of feminism and fun too. And maybe a topic or two that only a women would dare put in print. On the serious side, the three books will start to ask the question: “What would redress look like in Exeter?”

The second in the series is in the research phase now and will be set in Exeter’s Abolitionist era. But for now, please take a look at the first book -in paperback or Kindle. You can get it online right now – yes!

Or you can wait until my official launch at Water Street Bookstore in a month or so. I will also be speaking for a few minutes in the “Race Matters” 3-part series being held at the Exeter Historical Society in Jan/Feb/March. (My gig is on Feb. 24th.) And then look for me at the annual ExeterLitFest on April 4th, 2020.

Here is a little widget that lets you peek into the book. I really hope you like it. Much love, and thanks for your support! ~ RM Allen

Sneak Peek at New Book

I have some news for you my friends – I have been working on a new book this summer! It is still  a work in progress but, targeted to be out in early 2020 if all goes well. I ask you, what would redress look like in Exeter??

Incident at Exeter Tavern

~ A Maryvonne Mini-Mystery ~

By RM Allen

One hot summer weekend in July, something odd is about to happen at the old tavern. The whole village is getting ready for fun and celebration at the annual Independence Festival weekend down by the river, in one of the oldest parts of town, when space and time collide.

Something has gone missing. Or has it? Maryvonne has set up her easel across from the old tavern early one morning when she is visited by early American novelist Tabitha Gilman Tenney, and begins to learn about some of the contributions of the Revolutionary War era black community in Exeter, New Hampshire.

  • Exeter Green Press, (January 2020)
  • Exeter, New Hampshire
  • ISBN-13:   978-0-9883744-2-3
  • 150 pages, $14.00 Kindle $4.99


The car keys landed on Mal’s open laptop keyboard, and the machine blinked to life. Maryvonne was embarrassed, and hoped she had done no damage. She went around behind the desk to inspect the computer to make sure nothing looked broken. The keyboard looked fine. Maryvonne’s eyes scanned over the lit screen and she didn’t see any scratches. But then her eyes caught on the words on the screen, and she stopped short. The document on the screen was entitled “Dunlap Broadside Heist Plan.” She felt a bit of a shock go through her system. Would Mal do something like that?

amplify HER voice

amplify HER voice

by RM Allen, Feb 27, 2019

amplify her voice

I recently learned of the global initiative to edit Wikipedia specifically to include the contributions of women and femmes, so I signed up to participate. One needs only to open a Wikipedia account, read the guidelines on referencing and such, and do a few practice bits. Then you are ready to amplify the fading voices of yesterday’s women by adding HERstory into HIStory as it appears online today. So, I have been adding in the names of women and minorities into the current incomplete HIStory of my NH town.

Then I wanted to add a brand-new entry for an author from my town who wrote six books in the 1960s and 70s. But that listing was denied by the moderators, reason listed as both she and her books were not notable enough. This made me wonder what it is to be considered “notable” and who decrees on the value of any published book.

To wit: I recently the book The Truths We Hold by presidential candidate Kamala Harris and I loved it. Later, I read a review about the book by a reviewer from NPR – who did not love it – reason being that she felt it was not really a normal book, but a political platform piece. But that is exactly why I thought it was great!

It is my conjecture that Kamala is participating in the creation of a new genre of book, and one that is sorely needed. Her book is a combination memoir, auto-biography, and political platform. Coming away from this bio-plat book you feel you know not only her resume, but her entire value system. I feel this is important information to have when I am casting my vote on election day. She amplified her own voice by setting this bio-plat book out there and in doing so SHE set the tone, not her challengers or the media.

I believe that greed and sustainability are situated at opposite ends of a spectrum, and Kamala has proven that she sits far closer to the sustainability end and roots out and prosecutes those who do their shady deals at the greed end. Kamala is a woman of values who has been working in a man’s world since she began her career. This strong woman has evidently learned how to move right through the BS and get things done, while still being likable. For example, by writing this bio-plat for the public in spite of knowing that a book of this nature blurs some fixed genre lines in the world of the literati.

I am not quite sure of the genre of the small books that I write either, nor do I care. What is important to me is that my voice amplifies the voices and thoughts of many other women I know on the matters of feminine spirituality and sustainability.

Through the “sacred art of inspiration” I hope my goddess guidebook series will encourage women to contribute more publicly. Deeds not words my friend, and small deeds count as well! Through the reading of this blog post, perhaps you dear reader will be inspired to “amplify her voice” by editing the Wikipedia entry for your town. Or perhaps to make it your business to; add notable women into school curriculums, create art or film or stories on them, or speak in public about them. Maybe one or two of you will even run for office yourself – and become a “notable” while you serve others!

Namaste 😊

amplify her voice

Who Writes Herstory?

Who writes history?

It is time to re-examine traditional narratives and do some inclusive re-writes.

For example, I would have bet money that my very “white” NH town had always been so. But I fell down a rabbit hole while looking for a rabbit, and found also that my town had the highest percentage of free blacks in the entire state directly after the Revolutionary War (4.7%). It is unclear why. The NH blacks who fought in the war earned their freedom, pensions and then settled in my town buying homes, opening businesses and starting families. I was astonished to learn this! The black community they established was erased within 100 years, both from the actual town and also in the memory of the citizens.

My town of Exeter was the Revolutionary capital of NH then and home to various military officers and their funding. Perhaps they made promises to the black soldiers? Perhaps those promises are why blacks made up 4.7% of the citizenry in 1790? It is unclear. Why is it unclear? Because those writing the town’s grand, white and male, history back then did not include it. Or perhaps it was purposely excluded? I don’t know. But what I do know it that it is time to re-examine and redress – by including.

My town is all the poorer for not letting that community flourish. I can only imagine the interesting contributions those ladies and gentlemen would have made here. In the four or so generations that the community existed (mainly near the west bank of the Squamscott River) there were many blacks that influenced the culture of this town. For example, in the following small report I give you the exploits and achievements of one family as they began their uphill climb from slavery.

James Monroe Whitfield, poet

Down in that rabbit hole I met James Monroe Whitfield, a black abolitionist poet who was born in 1822 on Whitfield’s Lane, later renamed to Elliot Street. His 1853 book America and other poems was held in the Library of Congress, but curiously, was not in any of our libraries. His name was virtually unknown in our town. But I invite you now to read my small report james monroe whitfield family lineage  and then join me in saying: “Welcome home James”!

During my research I noticed that both people of color and women were glaringly missing from the history of my town, as published on Wikipedia. So I learned how to submit to Wikipedia -thus writing in a bit of herstory and theirstory back into history.

On January 25 and February 15 the “Where The Future Came From” symposium encourages people to join them in an Art & Feminism Wikipedia edit-a-thon to make history more inclusive. Why don’t you give it a try too?

Dark n’ Dreary 2018

Dark n’ Dreary in 2018

by RM Allen

Hill. Ford. Hopefully there will never be another name added to this list.

On September 27th I attended a “Solidarity Speak Out” on City Hall Plaza in Boston to show support for the courage of Dr. Christine Blasey-Ford. That same day she was to testify about her teen-aged trauma in front of the entire country, and a row of old white guys in suits. A great many other women have similar stories of trauma. About one hundred women gathered in Boston in front of Senator Elizabeth Warren’s offices to speak their own stories aloud in front of the crowd and the tv news cameras. As I watched, woman after woman walked to the front and speak about what happened when they were five years old, or at their high school, or at Welcome to College night, or with their father-in-law, the nice guy next door – it just went on and on. I was repulsed.

boston speak out sept 27 2018 blasey ford

For some, this was the very first time they had spoken their truth aloud. After each story the crowd said “We believe you.” Some speakers cried, some were pissed, some dejected. Some had been successful in legally prosecuting their perp. Others had never told a soul. Why? Because they thought they wouldn’t be believed. One woman, after telling her story said she never told the police. Then she swept her hand in front of herself and with her head bowed she said “who would believe that anyone would want this body”? It broke my heart.

speak out boston sept 27 2018 blasey ford

Silence. The biggest thing I came away with was that the silence was what has allowed this perverted behavior to continue for centuries. Silence and victim blaming. Did the five-year old girl have it coming? Did the woman who was made by her husband to sleep with her father-in-law again and again bring that upon herself? Did Dr. Ford want to be jumped and nearly suffocated by two drunken frat boys on the way to the bathroom?

The earnestness and bravery of Dr. Ford was historic. I think she will make a difference in the long run. But she did not make a difference that week: her alleged perp was quickly installed in the highest office in the land, even after his own bizarre show of instability and belligerence. The vote was rushed and the old white guys in suits won. My prophecy is this: just like when you end up with a shoddy contractor who does a rush-job on your house and hides it from you, the truth will out eventually. And it will cost heavily.

But in the meantime, the whole sordid week left me depleted and traumatized. The world went all dark and dreary for weeks. At some later point, I realized that it felt like someone had died and I was grieving. Often, I had wondered what it must have felt like to try to live a normal life during the Vietnam War era. This dark month had given me a tiny glimpse of that. Just laboring on in your work-a-day life, full of sorrow and rage. I was not fit to be out in public. Eventually I had to hide from the news and sit with my grief and just heal. My poor husband, what a saint.

So here we are, five days from the mid-term elections. I am petrified. Please tell me that the majority feel that these inglorious past two years have been a huge mistake. Exploding excesses of testosterone. I can’t even look at the polls. I feel a little sick, and a lot snarky. My poor husband, what a saint.

I have been biding my time and persisting the best I can, but my heart is so heavy. Sigh. Please dear goddess, clear the dark and dreary clouds and show us your lovely face. Bring back Love.

speak out blasey ford sept 27 2018 boston

Hot Flash at Night

Ballad of the Hot Flash at Night

(to the tune of Beverly Hillbillies)


Come and listen to a story ‘bout a woman in her bed

For one full year all a-sweatin’ and a-red

Then one day she had had it up to here

Sat at her laptop and did a questionnaire

(“bout getting old & dry that is, not she!)


Well the first thing you know our girl’s getting’ prepared

Kin folk said “now girl don’t be scared”

Said the vitamin aisle is the place you oughta be

So she loaded up the car with jars of B, D, and E

(From Rite Aid that is, sleepy time, melatonin)


Well now it’s time to say goodbye to the flash and its dry kin,

It’s great to be a crone, don’t want the fake estrogen

The thing that really gave that flash the kybosh

Was a jar of the herb called Black Cohosh

(Juicy Goddess, that’s what he calls her now

….Y’all got Kundalini power, it’s here!)


Explosive hot flashes? Goddesses use a natural remedy to ease the way….Black Cohosh: every few days

Guns and Roses (vote them out)

Guns and Roses

by RM Allen, May 2018

“She’s got eyes of the bluest skies” is a line in one of my all-time favorite rock songs “Sweet Child of Mine” and today I am going to tell you a story about another child with blue eyes, my niece. Let’s call her Rose or just R for privacy sake.

R is thirteen and a very sweet and civically minded girl. Just after the Parkland school shooting happened she was alone in the same room at her school with an older boy she did not know. He shook in a funny way and told her that he wanted to shoot more people than the Parkland boy did. Although she was shocked and scared, she tried to be compassionate and soothe him. He told her not to tell anyone.

But she did, for she is a school ambassador and that is her “job”. It got her into a sticky situation, and for a couple of days she was scared to go to school so she stayed home. Many adults were franticly mobilized and got the boy some help. At such a young age, she knew to do the right thing. My niece R is a s/hero.

There was another girl who was about the same age as R and just as compassionate. I never met her, but I have her name on a slip of paper. I sat with that slip of paper posted to my office bulletin board for a month just thinking about her, and her devasted family. Slowly she seeped in and kind of became part of me although I didn’t even know what she looked like or anything about her. She was just a name on paper.

You see, I attended a vigil/discussion on the Parkland shooting a week after it happened. Seventeen slips of paper were placed on a table around a lit chalice. Participants were invited to take a slip home with them. On each slip was printed a name and an age. Mine said “Gina Montalto, 14”. It took me a month to get up the courage to Google her.

Her face came out of my computer. Beautiful, slender, brown hair, big smile. I was crushed. I wept. She looked a lot like one of my step-grandchildren of the same age, L.

Then I saw pictures of rows of airline pilots in uniform at her funeral. Her dad is a pilot for United Airlines. The family is crushed.  The community is crushed. I feel sick. In my mind I see her (and L.) scared, bleeding, running down a hallway in Florida. I feel angry.

Another young lady from that same hallway has risen from being scared, to being a super s/hero in ripped jeans. This is Parkland’s androgynous Emma Gonzalez: she who weeps compassionately on TV while at the same time channeling her anger and being intensely fierce beyond her years. She has stirred a whole nation out of its complacency.

Because of Emma and her friends, the students in my town called and participated in a local forum after the March for Our Lives protests and 150 townsfolk attended. A panel of local politicians on both sides were called to account on gun safety legislation and mental illness. The NRA dog-whistle phrase “soft target” made me feel sick to my stomach – and drew boos from the crowd.

“Vote them out” was spoken many times on the stage and in the audience. Yes my friends! Find out who takes money from the NRA in your state (or votes along their brain-washed lines), this is easy to do. Then vote them out – and vote in folks who can make common sense reforms like: background checks, licensing, training, safety locks, a complete ban on real and adapted “machine guns”, and etc.

Don’t just sit there and think someone else will handle all this for us and our children. They won’t, it will just be business as usual. Parkland, Santa Fe, your town next, what town will be LAST??  R, L, and all the others need you now. Be the goddess.

And so, I close with a photo of Gina Montalto, and another line from “Sweet Child of Mine”: I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain…

“The Grab” a #MeToo pop-up play

no groping signI wrote this 5-minute play because I couldnt’ find one. Feel free to use it. It is maximum impact and minimal fuss: all actors wear black and hold scripts onstage.

Props needed:

  • text book
  • briefcase
  • shrink-wrapped small plate of brownies
  • diary and pencil
  • large gloves on sticks, (like fireplace tongs)
  • 3 monkey grinder vests, or similar



Contact at:

ACT [1]


(Monkeys in vests are seated in a row on the bench)

MONKEYS: (In unison)



(Woman walks onstage from the left holding school books, talking to someone, then pauses in front of curtain)



Yes, that class was interesting, Mr. Smith. By the way, I am glad you liked my English essay…

(Before she can finish, large hands being manipulated by the puppeteer emerge from behind the curtain and start groping her- just as suddenly, disappear back behind the curtain. Woman freezes, mortified, and looks down in shame before running silently off the stage.  Monkeys have seen this)


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over eyes before sitting back down)


I did not see that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over ears before sitting back down)


I did not hear that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over mouth before sitting back down)


I will not speak about that


(All the monkeys are seated on the bench.  They speak in unison)




(Woman walks onstage from the left, holding briefcase, talking to someone, then pauses in front of curtain)


…I really enjoyed that seminar, David.  By the way, how many widgets should we order…

(Before she can finish, large hands being manipulated b y the puppeteer emerge from behind the curtain and start groping her- just as suddenly, disappear back behind the curtain. Woman freezes, mortified, and looks down in shame before running silently off the stage.  Monkeys have seen this)


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over eyes before sitting back down)


I did not see that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over ears before sitting back down)


I did not hear that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over mouth before sitting back down)


I will not speak about that


(All the monkeys are seated on the bench.  They speak in unison)




(Woman walks onstage from the left, holding paper plate of plastic-wrapped brownies talking to someone, then pauses in front of curtain)


…What a great BBQ, I am bringing some brownies home for my daughter. Goodbye Lynne, bye Liz, bye Mark…

(Before she can finish, large hands being manipulated by the puppeteer emerge from behind the curtain and start groping her- just as suddenly, disappear back behind the curtain. Woman freezes, mortified, and looks down in shame … before slowly going over to sit in chair. Monkeys have seen this)


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over eyes before sitting back down)


I did not see that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over ears before sitting back down)


I did not hear that


(Stands up, speaks, and claps hands over mouth before sitting back down)


I will not speak about that


(Woman sitting on the chair, picks up a diary. Opens diary and writes…)



“Dear Diary, Yesterday it happened again!!!! Why does this demeaning groping persist?? That new boyfriend of Liz’s is a real creep. Such a jerk!

This crap has been happening to me my whole adult life, usually more discreetly, but this time it was right out in the open. Those people are all my good friends, yet no one stuck up for me.

I am SO mad. Even my date was SILENT! Ugh. He just said the next day “oh, I saw it but I thought you had something going with him”. WHAT????

Why does this happen to me?


(She stops writing)



Hmm, yes why? ……And why do I go silent? Why don’t I defend myself?


(she thinks for a minute)

Have I bought into the old-school “Good girls don’t make waves” culture? (pause)

Have I bought into the fear-based “he’ll make my life miserable, so I’ll just be silent & avoid him” culture? (pause)

Have I bought into the victim-blaming “She must have brought it on herself” culture? (pause)

Hmm…now THAT makes me mad. Madder than I was before, but in a different way. I have done nothing wrong. I am the victim here…

(thinks some more)


Well, now that I really think about how I used to be silent, I am FURIOUS … MYSELF! This will NOT happen again. I swear it!  I have found my voice and will school myself on what to do next time. YES! I will be soooo ready for the next perp.”


(WOMAN stands up fiercely and walks off stage)

(Monkeys are seated in a row on the bench)

MONKEYS: (In unison)



(Woman walks onstage from the left, talking to someone, then pauses in front of curtain)



Yes, my darling husband, just a minute, let me say goodbye to our hosts Mr & Mrs Jones — thank you so much for the lovely meal…

(Foam hands emerge from behind the curtain again and start to grope her.  Woman pushes hands away and yells…NO)




(MONKEYS have witnessed this, turn to look at the woman.)




Ha!  I swore that would never let that happen again, and it WILL NOT. I will persist, but I can’t do it alone.

(addresses audience)

Me, your mothers and sisters and daughters, and everyone – we need YOUR help too. Don’t enable. Do NOT be a silent bystander anymore.


(Stands up and speaks)

I SAW that!

(Puts hands up to eyes like binoculars)


(Stands up and speaks)

I HEARD that!

(Cups hands over ears)


(Stands up and speaks)


I WILL speak up about that.

(steps toward woman/puppeteer and says)

“That is NOT cool, dude, don’t do it again!”


Don’t enable. Speak up, call it out…


(then all raising hands)






The Year of the Cat (a song for Earth Day)

“You’re Gonna Make it After All” (cropped) acrylic on canvas by RM Allen 2017











The Year of the Cat

by RM Allen, April 2018

“She comes out of the sun in a silk dress, running like a watercolor in the rain” is a memorable line from an old Cat Stevens song, and the way I feel this rainy Earth Week. After this long, cold and confounding winter I am mottled and grey. The constant work on social justice issues has drained me of my usual colors.

I used to wonder how women of bygone eras went on day-to-day, nurturing their families and themselves while also working their jobs (and let us remember that homemaking is a real job), when the community around them was in chaos. I am talking about the chaos of the Civil War, Jim Crow/Civil Rights, ethnic cleansings around the globe and other insidious forms of devaluing and dividing people. The year 2018 feels remarkably what I think the year 1968 in the US must have felt like to thoughtful people; every time you glance at the headlines there is more and more shocking news. I am drenched in the rain, with my hair and silk dress plastered to me. I shiver. I don’t smile as much. Yet I steel myself and go on because I am thinking of my family.

I have my pedal to the metal and still feel like I can’t keep up. The silver lining in this current perfect storm of neo-Nazi/haters, “clean” coal, and the attempts to make America into a corporation is that it has lit a fire under women and they are organizing. You may or may not like Facebook, but you can be sure that it is being used by both public and secret women’s’ groups for collaborations on every possible issue out there. I see it every day and I am amazed. Drop after drop after drop of water is pouring into the ocean and forming the fourth wave of feminism, which is mostly blue with big streaks of black and aiming directly at mid-term elections.

One strategy I use to keep myself fairly sane is to focus on just two issues: women & family rights and environmental issues. Which brings me back around, finally, to the topic of Earth Week.

Here is the view from my town that reflects women’s collaborations on environmental issues. One of the fruits of my recent collaborative labors is the newly formed town energy committee, and my appointment to it. Our first two projects are LED streetlight conversions and Electric Vehicle Chargers (EVC). The group is comprised of four women and one man (my husband!). Single-use plastic is another issue around which a group of mostly women have formed here. Women are also leading the thrust to have legal “intervenor” status granted in response to a proposed natural-gas pipeline mapped to run through our town.

But what about the men? There are some beautiful men out there too. Obviously. And some others are just taking a different route to get to the same place.

It heartens me to tell you that an older friend of mine, who still loves his oil stocks because they are “money makers”, is planning to buy a Tesla for his next car. He is not buying it to save the environment for his grandchildren – he is buying it for the performance and the sexiness of it. Sex sells. My favorite genius Elon Musk is an extremely green person, yet he also speaks the language of (mostly) non-green men: competition. Competition is why I just read today that Porsche is putting 500 free EVC’s across America. (Can’t let Tesla have it all!) Competition is why a tariff was recently put on imported solar panels. My long-suffering stock in the US company First Solar finally saw a nice jump. Thank you.

The squelching of competition is why offshore wind farms are not a thing in NH yet, despite being one of the best spots in the US. Those big oily pockets are beginning to grasp at the linty bottoms of truth. You can’t stop an idea whose time has come. Especially when there is money to be made in the gleaming game of competition!

Surfing on the blue wave of women, I can glimpse the shore where competition and collaboration are slowly joining in the Buddhist concept of “right livelihood”.  Collaborative women are in the game now, tempering it. It is still a long, hard slog in a wet chafing dress – but cats are said to have nine lives.