by Lynne | Dec 11, 2012 | Uncategorized
History Times Three
For those of you following the New York Times stories of the fires at garment factories, first in Bangladesh, India, then in Karachi, Pakistan, you’ll notice the lamentable similarities to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in this country in 1911.
When I wrote The Triangle Murders, I researched the details of that fire and blogged about it in past posts. I fictionalized a murder set against the backdrop of the actual fire and detailed the forensic analysis of the fire after the fact. I also blogged about heroines like Clara Lemlich and Frances Perkins who helped raise awareness of the deplorable situation the garment workers found themselves in every day, as well as the changes Clara and Frances helped institute to prevent this kind of tragedy from happening again.
Reading the stories about these recent fires in other parts of the world simply blew my mind.
But first, back up to Saturday, March 25, 1911, and a few grim facts: The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory occupied the top three floors of the 10-story Asch Building on the northwest corner of Washington Place and Greene Street in Greenwich Village. On the eighth floor, fire broke out in a scrap bin. Perhaps someone tossed a match or cigarette butt into the bin. Soon flames leaped out and caught other fabrics. About 180 people worked on this floor. They rushed for the exit doors and fire escape. Many were trapped.
http://www.ilr.cornell.edu/trianglefire/ (Notice how the picture of the Triangle fire looks incredibly similar to those in the Times articles of the more recent fires: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/08/world/asia/pakistan-factory-fire-shows-flaws-in-monitoring.html?pagewanted=all)
For various reasons, the workers on the ninth floor of the Asch building could not be contacted. It was estimated that 250 workers were on the floor that day. For an exquisitely poignant description of the events, you must read ‘Triangle – The Fire That Changed America” by David Von Drehle.
Suffice it to say here, that many of the workers were women and young girls, trapped by locked exit doors and only one poorly designed fire escape. Fire hoses reached only to the sixth floor, safety nets were unable to break the falls. To avoid suffocating or burning to death, the girls jumped nine stories to the pavement and their death. 146 of them.
“My building is fireproof,” Joseph J. Asch insisted. You might recall that the White Star Line directors made similar proclamations about the Titanic.
Fast forward to today. On September 11, 2012 in Karachi, Pakistan, close to 300 people, many of them women and children, died in a factory fire, trapped behind locked doors and barred windows. “There were no safety measures taken in the building design,” said a senior police official. “There was no emergency exit. These people were trapped.”
Just last month another tragedy occurred. Over 112 people, possibly seventy percent women, died in a fire at a garment factory outside Dhaka, Bangladesh. Why? Bangladesh’s garment industry, second only to China, has a notoriously poor fire safety record. Most of the workers killed were on the first and second floors and died because there were not enough exits. One survivor on the fifth floor said he escaped by climbing out of a third floor window onto bamboo scaffolding used for construction workers.
Yikes. What am I missing here? With today’s lightning-fast communications, surely most industrial nations got the message about safety in the workplace. Right? Why must we wait for a disaster to occur before we decide to act? Why not employ preventive measures to avoid tragedy? Like preventive medicine to avoid illness.
There must be a more effectual way to learn from history, to take those lessons and apply them today. History is not just hard facts that inform us about our past. History is the measure of our past deeds, good and bad. If we don’t take those lessons seriously, as a human race, we’re doomed to repeat our mistakes.
We can do better. We must do better.
by Lynne | Dec 4, 2012 | Uncategorized
Animals Can Make Humans More Human
I admit it. I’m an animal person. I love them all but am partial to dogs and have had many and still do. I’ve read many “animal” books and find them endearing. Today’s blog, though, is not about writing animal stories, but about integrating animals into your novels to give your humans depth, compassion and vulnerability.
Comic relief is one reason writers insert animals into their stories. I recently watched (again) Lonesome Dove on television and laughed (again) at the scenes of the two pigs following the wagon out of Lonesome Dove to embark on a journey north. The journey would be fraught with drama and trauma, and the pigs added a light aspect to ease the tension. But they actually did more than that.
These two sweet little pink creatures gave us insight into one of the main characters of Lonesome Dove, Augustus McCrae. Sure, he hollered at them, kicked dirt at them, spit at them, but he also smiled at them, enjoyed their antics and encouraged them to join the entourage to Montana. What did that say about Gus, a former Texas Ranger who would hang an old friend for breaking the law? He had a definite soft side.
Characters that have a seriously dark job, like a cop or detective, need to have a way to show their human side. Relationships with the opposite sex, kids and family, even friends and colleagues can work. But so can animals. Take my NYC homicide detective, Frank Mead, in The Triangle Murders. In a dialogue, with his sergeant, Mead explains how he came to own a blue and gold, extremely noisy killer macaw named Dexter.
“What’s with the bird?” Jefferies said.
“Dumb move.” Frank sighed.
“I’m listening.”
“Brought my car into a garage out in Canarsie. The bird was in the back of the shop squawking up a storm. Real nasty place, they didn’t give a shit about him. He was covered in grease. So I took him. Fifty bucks. They sold him just like that. I figured I’d clean him up and give him away, to some good home or something.” His face reddened.
“So?”
“Kinda got used to the company. He’s incredibly smart, talks and, well, never mind. Stupid ass bird.”
Mead, a hard-boiled homicide cop, has a gruesome murder to solve, a dead wife always on his mind, an estranged daughter he feels guilty about. And yet he saves this kooky parrot. Would you have expected that of him? Or are you surprised?
Animals have played similar roles in mysteries for decades. Think Raymond Chandler’s The Thin Man. I can never forget the first movie and my introduction to Myrna Loy as the character, Nora Charles. Picture the scene: Nick Charles is in a nightclub bar being asked by a young woman to take a case, when Nora bursts in carrying Christmas packages and trying to hold onto Asta, her mischievous terrier, by the lead. Asta barrels into the room and Nora winds up face down on the floor, packages strewn everywhere. Unfazed, she gets up, brushes herself off and carries on.
Her dog was the perfect device to show us Nora’s personality. And it was dead-on. Nora is generally unfazed by embarrassing moments like these. But how would you know that without tedious narrative? By using Asta.
Other well-known authors use animals in similar ways. In Robert Parker’s Spenser books, you meet his dog, Pearl, and can picture her lying on the floor on her back with four feet in the air. How many of us are familiar with that pose? She’s entirely comfortable, not fearful or concerned in this position about any danger. What does that say about Spenser and his relationship with Pearl and the environment he provides for her? Safe, sheltered and most probably well-loved.
Elizabeth George, another dog person, has inserted a Longhaired Dachshund, Peach, into her stories. How does she integrate Peach with her characters to give them depth and breadth of human qualities. Yes, this is a quiz.
I know I will personally continue to use animals in my books. I encourage you to consider doing the same. They can add a sympathetic, sensitive and loving element to your humans . . . in ways other humans simply can’t.
And they’re fun to write about, besides!
by Lynne | Nov 27, 2012 | Uncategorized
The Deadly Pitfalls of Dialect
In my last blog about critique groups, I mentioned my mortification at being told my “novel” sounded like a “report.” Well, that wasn’t the only criticism I had to contend with.
One of the major characters in Time Exposure is Alexander Gardner, a famous (real) Civil War photographer. Gardner hailed from Paisley, Scotland and arrived in Washington, D.C. in 1856 with a thick Scottish accent. How was I to handle dialogue? I wanted to make sure that the reader knew Gardner was from Scotland. So, I added a bit of dialect. Check this out:
“I must speak to ye, Joseph.” Gardener took a deep breath. “I’ve had a special offer I must consider. Mind ye now, it doesna preclude my maintaining an association with Brady. But, I want ye to be part of me decision.”
I also sprinkled in lots of dinnas, shouldnas, couldnas, ayes, me for my, etc. Ugh. The reader couldn’t possibly forget that Gardner was from Scotland. Or care. He’d already given up on the book.
Thanks to my critique group my eyes were open to this dialect dilemma. I began to notice it in other novels. Too much of an accent: “How vould you vant me to wote?”
Or overuse of slang: “He needs to mellow out, he’s bonkers and that’s too dicey for this girl.”
Or clichéd idiomatic expressions : “Once in a blue moon, we see eye to eye, but you’re usually on the fence, which only adds insult to injury.”
Eeek. The use of “casual” spelling such as lemme, or gimme, can be used . . . sparingly. Dropping “g” for a word ending in “ing” gets tiresome too if used every other sentence. We have to give the reader credit and assume that by dropping a slang word, accent or expression in, they’ll get the point and as they continue to read that character’s dialogue, they’ll naturally hear the dialect.
Some of the worst examples of overusing dialect can be seen when characters have southern or New York accents. Like the use of “Ah” for “I” or “y’all for, well, you know. Then there’s the exaggerated Brooklynese – “toidy-toid and toid street” or “poils for the goils.” (These may actually need translation!) I grew up in Brooklyn and, frankly, you do hear this. It’s one thing, however, to add it to a movie, where you can hear the character say it. It’s another to read it in a book ad nauseam.
So how do you get the character’s geographical location, or educational background across? The best way is through the rhythm of the dialogue and the words you choose. One “aye” from my Scotsman and the reader hears his accent through the rest of the dialogue. To portray a well-educated German you might avoid contractions and use the full words to make the speech more formal sounding: “I should not bother with that if I were you. Do you not think so?”
In the end, you need to do your homework. Learn the true dialect, accent, slang expressions of the region your characters come from, both geographically and historically. Depending upon the time period, speech was often more formal than we’re used to today.
Practice yourself. Once you know how the dialect really sounds have your character try it out in dialogue in a scene. Read it aloud. Very important, to really hear the effect, you must read it out loud. You’ll find you will most likely want to eliminate all but a smidgen of the dialect. What will be left is the essence of your character.
Then fuhgeddaboutit!
by Lynne | Nov 20, 2012 | Uncategorized
Recreating History — Authentically
My last book, Time Exposure, is a mystery that takes place during the Civil War. I wanted my readers to abandon the present and immerse themselves in those brutal, tumultuous years of the mid-nineteenth century. Scene by scene, chapter by chapter. Well, darn it, I wasn’t there, so how could I paint a picture of that time period, accurately, vividly, and with painstaking detail?
Research, of course, but research using primary sources. What does that mean? There are many books written about the Civil War. About the battles, about the people, about the politics — the operative word being “about.” These sources are written today by historians looking back in time. I wanted to go back there myself. How?
Primary sources are the ones that deliver the information firsthand. Let’s look at a few. Photographs are an excellent way to learn about the past. In my case, tens of thousands of Civil War photographs are available, yes, through books and online, but also at the Library of Congress, where there are drawers upon drawers filled with folders of photos taken back then. The originals, by God!
Other primary sources of a historic period are letters or journals. Using the Civil War as an example, there are books of letters to and from soldiers and their loved ones. If you use credible authors, ie: Ken Burns, you can be sure these are the true words of the people of the time. If you are really lucky, you may be able to track down a diary written from the time period. A friend of mine’s ancestor was a soldier in the War and he passed down some interesting paraphernalia (no journal, unfortunately!)
Very important primary sources are books written by someone of the time period. An example, which helped me shape my scene at the Union Hotel Hospital, was a precious thin book called Hospital Sketches, by Louisa May Alcott. Louisa May was actually a minor character in my book. If you ever wondered what it would be like to volunteer as a nurse in a hospital during the Civil War, listen to Louisa May:
“My three days experience had begun with a death, and, owing to the defalcation ( I had to look this one up!) of another nurse, a somewhat abrupt plunge into the superintendence of a ward containing forty beds, where I spent my shining hours washing faces, serving rations, giving medicine, and sitting in a very hard chair, with pneumonia on one side, diphtheria on the other, two typhoids opposite, and a dozen dilapidated patients, hopping, lying and lounging about, all staring more or less at the new ‘nuss,’ who suffered untold agonies, but concealed them under as matronly as a spinster could assume, and blundered through her trying labors with a Spartan firmness, which I hope they appreciated, but am afraid they didn’t.”
From this one simple paragraph, I learned about the hospital, the patients, the illnesses and Louisa May’s (and other nurses’?) attitude toward them all.
In addition to Louisa May Alcott’s writings, I examined photographs, I read letters, poems and the words of songs written during the time. As I kept reading, I got a feel for the rhythm of speech of the period. I learned some of the basics: what the people of the time ate, drank, smoked, what they wore, how they amused themselves when they weren’t killing each other on the field, what their sex lives were like (there are some bawdy postcards out there!) Essentially, I learned how they lived and, sadly, how they died.
Bottom line: If you write historical stories, (or even modern stories about places you’re not familiar with,) what you don’t know can hurt you. The best way to find out what things were really like, is to do your research through the eyes of those who lived it.
There are no shortcuts.
by Lynne | Nov 13, 2012 | Uncategorized
Learning to be Humble
I found my first critique group through a Writing Center and decided to try it out. The head of the group, Mike, was a published author and editor. No one else in the group was published. But they were my readers, so if they didn’t like my work, other readers wouldn’t. All were fiction writers, but a mix of genres. Mystery, Sci Fi and Fantasy, and General Contemporary Lit.
It was my turn. I read the first ten pages of the novel I was so proud of. I looked around the table. Everyone’s head was down and they were scribbling furiously on the pages. Comments were generally kind. Good start, interesting premise, great setting. Some helpful criticisms included: Too many adverbs and adjectives, verbs too passive, not enough tension. I understood and agreed with these.
Then it was Mike’s turn and I knew everyone had, indeed, been kind. He hit me right between the eyes with, “You write a lot of reports for work, don’t you?”
I blinked and swallowed. It was my first lesson in “show don’t tell.” I knew this, didn’t I? Well, no. I had been writing in a vacuum with no feedback.
Now I knew. The first ten pages didn’t work. What about the other 290? Could I handle going through this every week? Let me tell you, it was difficult at first. Every week I went home after the group and just about cried (okay, cried) looking over the scribbles all over my pages.
But I started taking their comments seriously and began making changes. I would revise the chapter the group read and the next, so when I brought it to them, they could see some progress. By the end of the 300 pages, I had, well, my first draft.
My skin had hardened. I didn’t cry as often. I stayed with this group for about five years then moved to another. The head of this group is also a professional writer and editor. I’ve read three books with them now over ten years and find each of them incredibly helpful in pointing out areas that need help: writing better descriptions, jazzing up my characters, and because I love history, reining in my tendency to overload on “reader feeder.”
Every time I bring in a chapter, one that I think is ready to go, the group points out how it could be better. Besides the usual grammar, punctuation, et al, they help me work out the big broad brush ideas. In one book, I completely changed the ending based on their suggestions.
Occasionally a new writer would enter the group. They, like I, thought they had the next Pulitzer. But many of them couldn’t handle criticism well. Ha! They would argue and try to justify why they were right and we were wrong. They left quickly.
If I haven’t proved to you that critique groups are absolutely invaluable to any writer, here are a few other reasons. I’ve never been in a support group, but I think a critique group is similar. You no longer feel isolated or alone. You can bounce the craziest ideas off the group and they don’t snicker. Usually.
Writer, Jeanne Gassman added a benefit of critique groups in our LitPow discussion: “Good critique groups can also be valuable networking tools. They provide information about publication opportunities, contests, conferences, etc.” Amen to that, Jeanne.
Another fellow writer on FB, Robb Grindstaff talked about a critique group of mixed-genre writers. “I learned about world-building from the fantasy writers, a very helpful skill set even if you write contemporary, real-world fiction. I learned how to build suspense from the horror and mystery writers. I learned how to increase emotional tension from the romance writers.” Well-said, Robb. I found the same to be true.
Remember the first criticism I received? My book sounded like a report not a novel? I was vindicated one day not too long ago, when my boss at the museum was reading one of my reports and said in all seriousness,“This sounds more like a novel than a report.”
Yahoo.
by Lynne | Nov 6, 2012 | Uncategorized
Part 1: Starting Out as a Writer
I’ve been writing most of my life. As a child I kept a diary, in school, I wrote reports, dissertations, grant proposals, and other boring documents. Mostly I wrote for my jobs. First as a teacher, then as an educator at a museum, then as a museum director. None of the writing could be classified as creative, however, and until about 1995, I had never tried writing fiction. Most of what I read was fiction, though, usually mysteries, but occasionally “literary fiction.” I distinguish mysteries or other “genre” fiction as light, while literary fiction as heavy. When I attempted to analyze this, I came up with this simplistic division: genre fiction uses easy words, literary fiction uses harder ones, sometimes requiring a dictionary (and often being selected as an Oprah book.) Both, on the other hand, can be poorly-written or well-written.
So I decided I could write a mystery, light, easy words, twisty plot. Why not? My first step was to come up with the mystery, no, the characters, no, the time period in which to set the mystery (I love history), no, a beginning, or an ending. Argh. Where to start?
The idea came to me unexpectedly. When I was director of education and exhibits at the Reuben Fleet Science Center in San Diego, the Smithsonian came to town. Balboa Park, where the Science Center is located, is similar to the Smithsonian Mall (with better weather!) in that there are about 22 museums scattered throughout.
Museums from the Smithsonian were paired with Balboa Park Museums to host lectures. We hosted a speaker from the National Museum of American History who did an illustrated talk on Civil War photography. I was hooked. I knew at that moment I was going to write a mystery that revolved around Civil War photography.
Now, I also love forensics and technology, working at a science museum, of course. So, why not add a modern element? An historical mystery that would be solved a hundred and fifty years later by modern digital photography. I wrote TIME EXPOSURE in nine months. During that time, my husband and I took a research trip to the Civil War battlegrounds — Washington, D.C., Manassas, Spotsylvania Courthouse, and the Burgs: Gettysburg, Fredericksburg, Petersburg, etc. — and I worked with the same expert from the Smithsonian to make sure my research was authentic.
For the modern element, I worked with some digital photographers to learn the latest analyzing techniques. How could I take photograph taken during the Civil War and enhance and clarify it today to identify a killer? I also worked with the San Diego Sheriff’s Dept. Crime Lab to make sure any forensics I used was correct.
And then I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. In less than a year, I had my first manuscript, a masterpiece, not an ordinary, run-of-the mill mystery. Something really different, special, unique. Like no other. Like yours?
Then I joined a critique group.
Watch for next Tuesday’s Blog to get into the critique group experience.
http://www.ilr.cornell.edu/trianglefire/ (Notice how the picture of the Triangle fire looks incredibly similar to those in the Times articles of the more recent fires: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/08/world/asia/pakistan-factory-fire-shows-flaws-in-monitoring.html?pagewanted=all)