Writing it Then

I may be the world's most delinquent blogger, but I have been writing. This new story is requiring a great deal of research. Thanks to the Internet, that process is sometimes too enjoyable.
In my online and "inbooks" research, I've been in places as specific as London...Calais...Berlin and Steinhoering Germany and last, but not least, the Republican River valley in Franklin County, Nebraska. The only one of those places I have ever actually visited was that part of Nebraska, where my parents grew up and my grandparents lived as I was a child. (The photo at left is of my Grandpa Henry Feess, holding me in front of the Franklin County Courthouse.) Among those different and distant places are also different times...1900-1960s, with the narrator telling the story in 1968.

My current novel was in process when I had the pleasure of reading Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel. It is a fascinating and vivid retelling of the story of Thomas Cromwell, the first Earl of Essex during the reign of Henry VII. She reveals some of the challenges of research, which took her five years, in an interview with the Wall Street Journal.
 
"To avoid contradicting history, she created a card catalogue, organized alphabetically by character. Each card contained notes locating a particular historical figure—such as protagonist Thomas Cromwell, Henry's adviser—on relevant dates.

'You really need to know, where is the Duke of Suffolk at the moment? You can't have him in London if he's supposed to be somewhere else,' she says." (1)

Checking facts provides a sturdy framework for plot and character. Thorough research might include contemporaneous fashion, household items, road and topographical maps, train schedules and bus routes, medical procedures and reading materials, to name a few. But then, there's all the rest. Of course, I'm sure Ms. Mantel would agree. Physical location in time and space is only the first part of the challenge. In my case, I'm involving my characters with actual historic figures, as she did, so I must share her scruples.

 
Characters in historical fiction may not have access to public education and may struggle with common injuries and diseases that have no cure. They may witness death as an ordinary event and find themselves caught up in historic tides, without the luxury or arrogance that time provides for interpretation. Picture a man who only listens to his radio for music and events and reads the paper primarily to develop his political views...a woman who boards a ship or a train incognito, instead of going through a security check and body pat-down at the airport...someone who isn't traceable with a number on a cell phone or a or credit or debit card, so he or she could get lost and found repeatedly, even reinventing himself or herself, at will.

This lovely ordeal of maybes and maybe nots, this process of writing takes time and mental immersion. It's exciting and will not be rushed. But it's a marvelous moment when the characters begin to speak in their own language, in their own time, even talking back when you try to make them do something they can't fathom from their time and place. Then the real education and fun begin for this writer.

Thanks to Hilary Mantel, I have a new respect for authors of quality historical fiction, their processes and results. Now I just may be addicted, as well, to writing it there and then.


(1) "How to Write a Great Novel," Wall Street Journal Friday, November 13, 2009. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703740004574513463106012106.html?mod=WSJ_hpp_sections_lifestyle
(2) This image is of book cover, found on Wikipedia and Amazon.com, and the copyright for it is most likely owned either by the artist who created the cover or the publisher of the book. It is believed that the use of low-resolution images of book covers to illustrate an article discussing the book in question qualifies as fair use under United States copyright law. This is my sole intention in uploading the image.

Bioregional Literature I

To classify a literary work as "regional" may at first glance seem to limit its scope and appeal. Some essays, novels or poetry are initially slow to generate interest beyond their "land of origin." However, readers today increasingly seek out literature that provides an experience that they would never otherwise find. Fascinating and worthy writers who record native, immigrant, minority and exile experiences increasingly capture contemporary readers' imagination.

Many readers and critics favor one or another specific "lenses" through which to interpret what they read (gender, politics and linguistics are just a few). One such lens, a personal favorite of mine, is to explore the particular nuances that resonate from a literary sense of place.

My first exposure to this particular literary lens came while I was an English student at Augustana College in Sioux Falls, SD. Dr. Arthur Huseboe, who established the Center for Western Studies there, dedicated much of his scholarship to the culture and literature of the Great Plains and the West, with special scholarly attention to authors Frederick Manfred and Herbert Krause.

I learned more about Great Plains and Western regionalism while attending a Western Literature Association conference in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, in October of 1989. By that time, I had lived across a broad swath of the region mockingly dubbed "The Great American Desert"--from Texas to Minnesota, and Colorado to Iowa. The idea of the American Plains and West as fertile ground for literature led me to focus on it, as well as creative writing, in my Master's degree studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. As a reader, the "meanings" of this particular region still fascinate me. The romance of literary participation in this regional tradition fires my own fiction writing.