Fiction Can Infuse History With New Life

Fiction Can Infuse History With New Life

154 years ago last July, the brutal battle at Gettysburg was fought. In only three days, 51,000 men were killed, wounded or gone missing; 5,000 horses were slaughtered on the battlefield.

I visited Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, to gather details for my book, Time Exposure.  I roamed the sites of its bloody history, Cemetery Ridge, Devils Den, Big Round Top, Little Round Top.  The excursion provided me with background elements to set the scene.  But it also elicited dark, yet poignant emotions to help me paint the picture of the grim aftermath.

I used the technique of letters and diary entries to bring out the human side of the Civil War. I excerpt here a letter from my fictional Civil War photographer, Joseph Thornhill, to the love of his life, Sara Kelly.  All other characters and events are real history.  This letter might well have been written at the time.

July 3, 1863

My Dearest Sara,

I felt I had to write you today, after three of the bloodiest days I have ever witnessed.  I must get it off my mind, and I might not even post this letter, lest you be terribly offended.  But I feel I must unburden myself somehow.

Rumors have it that General Robert E. Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia suffered great losses, maybe one third of their forces dead, wounded or captured.  The Union Army is said to have lost a good deal, maybe one quarter of their troops, but it is safe to say we won the battle of Gettysburg.  Lee’s army is retreating back to the South and Mead’s men are elated.  Finally, victory, and an important one.

It is sad to think that this particular battle may have been fought over something as simple as shoes.  There was rumored to be a large supply of shoes in the town of Gettysburg and on July 1 an officer under Ewell’s command led his men there to confiscate these shoes.  Unfortunately for them, they ran into the Union Army.

I was slightly wounded today, some shrapnel lacerating my arm.  But don’t worry.  The doctors have bandaged me up and say I will be fine, no permanent damage, and I take a bit of laudanum for the pain.  Luckily my camera, which was caught in the crossfire suffered no harm.

I must admit that until now I had no real concept of the power our modern weaponry wields.  The force of the injury knocked me clean off my feet.  I think this experience will prove useful to me in my work.

The wound has not stopped me from working, however, although it is a bit difficult with one arm in a brace.  I rely on my apprentice more.  I’ve been busy photographing the town and its people.  Now I’ll begin, once again, to shoot the battlefield remains.  I am steeling myself to this task slowly, but have not made much progress.

Both Alex and Tim O’Sullivan–you remember, I mentioned this fine young man and competent photographer to you–will arrive in the next few days.  I look forward to working with them.

Now, other gruesome scenes await my camera.  Embalming surgeons, as they call themselves, have arrived.  Although many of the dead soldiers are hastily buried where they fall, many end up in mass graves.  Some are later exhumed and buried in military cemeteries, whether they’ve been identified or not– often with the headstone reading only:  “A Union Soldier” or “A Confederate Soldier.”   It is hard to imagine–dying in the name of one’s country but that country not even knowing your name.

On a lighter note, I have also photographed some of the Union soldiers and officers after the final skirmish, and they were truly in high spirits–dirty, sweaty, exhausted, some wounded, but all euphoric.  There was optimism in the air and hope, hope that this war would soon end.  But for now we must deal with the brutal aftermath of this battle.  Hospital tents crowd the countryside and the small population of Gettysburg is inundated with the sick and wounded.  I doubt this town will ever be the same.

Tomorrow is July 4.  I wonder if anyone, in the midst of all this furor, will appreciate the irony that this day marks the eighty-seventh year of our nation’s birth.

I miss you, my dearest, and long to see you this Christmas. You are always in my thoughts as I pray I am in yours.

Yours ever truly,

Joseph

 While letter or diary writing is a device to take the reader back in time, it is an opportunity for the writer to truly bring the past alive.  Ideas welcome.

A Funny Thing Happened at My Critique Group . . .

A Funny Thing Happened at My Critique Group . . .

Time Exposure was my first full-length novel.  It was the great American novel, er, great American mystery novel.  (Is there such a thing?)  I had done my research, been to the places where I set my scenes, talked to the experts of the time.  My writing was superb, just like a movie script.  I figured I had a book contract cinched.

Was I ever surprised, when, after reading the first ten pages, the critique group leader, a college professor asked me this: “Do you write a lot of reports for work?”

“Excuse me?” I said.  “What do you mean?”

“Your story has a great deal of potential . . . but it’s not a . . . story.”

I waited, blood thudding in my ears.

“It’s a report,” he said.  “You tell, not show, you give us no way to visualize the characters, the action or the settings.  You use too many adjectives and adverbs.  The word ‘was” or ‘is’ shows up in every other sentence.  And, there’s no emotion, no background, not much action–you give only the facts.”  Ma’am.

I went home dumbfounded.  Although I am proud to say I didn’t cry at the group session.  That came later.  Then I made a decision.  Do I throw the manuscript in the trash or figure out how to fix it?  How to write a good mystery, in other words?  And that’s what I did.  I took all the criticisms and read, researched, and re-wrote . . . again and again and again.  Chapter by chapter, scene by scene, paragraph by paragraph.

Did I learn?  I believed I finally made the grade from report writer to novelist, when my boss at the Science Museum said to me: “This sounds a bit flowery and dramatic for a report.  Sounds more like a novel.”

Eee-hah!

Details, Details

Details, Details

It’s not easy keeping track of details in a novel that goes back and forth in time.  Or any book of fiction, for that matter.  What do I mean by details?

Details relative to the characters could mean simple and obvious characteristics such as eye and hair color, height, weight and age, gender, dress style, likes and dislikes, personality quirks, language and speech mannerisms.  Believe it or not, it’s not always easy to remember all of these unless your characters re-appear in several books.  I keep a list of all these traits for each of my characters.  In fact, for each book that my main characters appear, I re-visit the list to make sure I’ve aged them appropriately.  Even a year off will throw your readers into a tizzy.

More important, when dealing with generations of families, or when you go back in history to another time period, chart your way through the years, decades, or centuries involved.  Ancestry maps can be helpful.

Deadly Provenance goes back to World War II with the “grandparents.”  In modern time, the “parents” and “grandchildren” are featured.  It’s vital to have all those years mapped out.  How old were the grandparents in the 1940s?  How old are the parents now?  The grandchildren?  When did they marry?  Who did they marry?  Trust me, it’s confusing if you just wing it.  Your reader will definitely notice that the parents could not possibly have been born if the grandparents were already dead.

Another detail to be meticulous about and I must say I have been remiss in an early book, is language and speech.  If a character is from Boston, don’t give him a Brooklyn accent or use an expression that is idiomatic to the wrong region.  Same goes for dialect, and, by the way, don’t use too much of it.  It’s distracting.

If you use foreign language phrases, please, please, make them correct.  A Google translation will give you the basic words, but is the phrasing correct?  Do the French, Germans, Slavs, Poles, speak like that?  Make it authentic.  Ask someone who speaks the language.

Even small details like what flowers bloom when and where are important.  In a recent review of my book, Pure Lies, a reader reminded me that lilacs grow in May in New England.  I’d had their scent wafting through the air in July.  Wrong.

It takes time to get the details correct, but in the end, your work will be far more authentic.  And your reader will thank you for it.

Ideas welcome.

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Chapter Endings–As Important as Beginnings

Chapter Endings–As Important as Beginnings

Chapter endings are as important as beginnings.  Read the endings of your chapters.  Go ahead.  Are they riveting? Are you anxious to turn the page? Will your readers be?  Take a closer look at the ho hum ones and begin to focus on endings that would compel a reader to keep going.

I skimmed through some books to see how those authors ended their chapters.  Here’s one from Deception Point by Dan Brown.  “Rachel felt weightless for an instant, hovering over the multi-million-pound block of ice.  Then they were riding the iceberg down – plummeting into the frigid sea.”  The reader is not likely to put the book down at this point, at least until they find out what happened to Rachel and her friend.  Brown could have ended with something like: “Rachel stood motionless on the block of ice and prayed the block wouldn’t fall into the sea.”  Nah.

Here’s another.  “Emergency Room.  Code Blue.  Susan ran for the elevator.”  This is from Chelsea Cain’s The Night Season.  What if Cain had stopped at Code Blue?  Would it have the same impact as her running for the elevator?

I believe this idea of compelling endings is not only important for fiction but for non-fiction as well.  Take Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken: “Sometime that day, or perhaps the day before, he had taken off his uniform, picked up a sack of rice, slipped into the Naoetsu countryside, and vanished.”  Vanishing, dying, running, falling, are all great ways to end a chapter on a high, cliffhanger note.

How about this from my mystery, Time Exposure: “As he sank to his knees, he lifted his head to gaze up at the Blackhawk.  Captain Geoffrey Farrell smiled down at him.  A boot to the head put him out.”  Or this from Pure Lies, in the form of dialogue: “Well, you may be nuts and I wouldn’t testify to this in court, but between you, me and the microscope, honey, these signatures were all written by the same person.”

Scene endings can follow this rule to some extent, but it might get tiresome if every scene did.  I think you have to let the reader rest once in a while and catch up with the action.

Not all chapter endings must end on an action note either.  Many can end with inner conflict or conflict between characters.  Gives the chapter tension.  What happens between these two people next?  Does Anna May leave her husband?  Does mom throw Maynard out of the house?  Does little Davey start to cry?  Is Barbara in danger of being fired, of losing her health insurance, of missing a plane to an important event?   If you care about the characters, you will turn the page.

I’d love to hear some chapter endings you think are great . . . or terrible.  When we can recognize what works and what doesn’t, our writing benefits in the long-run.

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Quick!  Turn the Page!

Quick! Turn the Page!

“Amanda stepped off the elevator on the lower level of the parking garage.  At ten o’clock on a Saturday night, the level was empty except for her car . . . and one other she didn’t recognize.  A sound of dripping water and the soft scurrying of animal feet – rats? – made her throat close. 

She swiveled her head in search of anything or anyone nearby then took a tentative step toward her car.  Then another step and faster, faster, until she was almost at a sprint.  Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor and echoed in the cavernous space.  Finally, she reached her car.  Damn, why didn’t she have her keys ready? 

Amanda fumbled through her bag, her heart now ratcheted up, pumping blood through her ears.  All she could hear was the furious whooshing sound of her own fear.

There, her keys, at the bottom, now in her hand.  She clicked the fob and the latches opened.  She reached for the handle, but before her fingers closed around it, she detected a breathy squeak of rubber soled shoes behind her.  She dropped her bag, swung around with a gasp, hands clenched into fists, ready to defend herself and  . . .”

So, what do you think?  Tension?  I always love the late-at-night parking garage scene.  Scares the heck out of me, even now.

What is tension, really, and why is it so important in writing? Even if you’re not writing a mystery.  Even if you’re writing non-fiction.

The noun tension has its Latin roots in “tendere,” which means to stretch, and tension occurs when something is stretched either physically or emotionally to its limits.  Strained relations between countries can cause political tensions to rise.  Tension can be added to a rubber band by stretching it to its limits.  By the way, you can release nervous tension by shooting that rubber band at the local bully.

Tension is the means to get your reader to turn the page, particularly if it’s used at the end of a chapter as a cliffhanger.  People, for the most part, don’t like to leave things unresolved.  They want to find the solution, even if it’s an unsatisfactory one (that’s another story.) 

While you cannot (or should not) distort facts when writing non-fiction, tension around real events can ramp up the readers’ pulse just as thrillers can.  Take “The Monuments Men,” for instance.  How tense can a situation be when you have a group of men and women trying to save the art and monuments of a Europe at war?  When, finally the fighting ends, and they discover, in a dark, damp mine in Austria, a cache of hidden loot that would make King Midas gasp?  When, they manage to “derail” an art train bound for Germany with stolen paintings of Masters like Leonardo.

Now that’s tension.  That’s real life.  Whew.

I welcome your feedback and samples of tension in your writing.