ABOUT
S. L. Matthews
is an 18th & 19th century living history reenactor, hobbyist photographer, and avid writer of the Victorian Era and the Old West.
She grew up in the past, weaving on a loom and producing period rifle and accoutrement straps for reenactors, museums, movies, and television worldwide.
Now she weaves three-dimensional characters through unusual plots and focuses on stories largely untold through history.
When she’s not dressed in Victorian Era and Old West attire, you can find her outside photographing Tennessee landscapes and living history, tackling her garden with her Welsh Corgi and Anatolian Shepherd, scouting shops for old books and historical treasures, and of course, always researching and writing novels.
S. L. Matthews is the author of Nickel’s Luck and “Ravens in the Graveyard.” She lives in Sparta, Tennessee with her family.
10 Fast Facts
I firmly believe scars are just tattoos with better stories. I have a lot of stories.
In my teenage years, I apprenticed under my father in his blacksmith’s shop, forging knives and tomahawks, several of which we made for the movie The Last of the Mohicans.
I learned how to weave on a loom when I was thirteen. It became my full-time job weaving rifle and accoutrement straps and sashes for my fellow 18th & 19th century reenactors. My work can be found in museums, movies, and various television documentaries.
My husband proposed to me inside the White House over Christmas, in front of the Blue Room Christmas Tree while the choir sang carols. He set the bar rather high for himself after that.
The first prize I ever won from writing was a 4-day, 3-night stay at a Pensacola, Florida resort complete with a private meeting and concert on the beach from our favorite band, Big & Rich. It was a 499-word essay, and it took me three days to write and edit it.
I have “stackable” dogs; our giant Anatolian Shepherd, a Mountain Cur who can run under the Anatolian, and a Welsh Corgi, who not only fits underneath the other dogs, but wears the pants.
My favorite smells are horse sweat, saddle leather, and campfire smoke. These are prioritized even over the aroma of chocolate.
I am terrified of edges. Edges of a mountain, cliff, bridge, or even a steep hill. Which is why I arranged a sunrise hot air balloon ride over Arches National Park and Canyonlands for my husband and me, parasailed in Pensacola, Florida, and climbed a 50-foot ladder on the side of the cliff to see the Mesa Verde Ruins.
My grandfather got me started on westerns by letting me borrow Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey. He owned the whole collection. After that, we shared every Zane Grey novel together. When my husband and I packed up to move out of state, my grandfather boxed up every Zane Grey book he owned and insisted I take them with me.
I have three silver bracelets that have never left my wrist in over 20 years, all handmade by different people. My best friend, my second mother and mentor, was an Apache woman who taught me many things, including a love for turquoise jewelry, desert sunsets, and that life is short—wear as much jewelry as you want at the same time and dress well, even if you're only going to the grocery store.
