Writing

Making a World from Small Details

June 15, 2019 By Aline Soules

In an article in The Writer, Todd James Pierce offered eight rules for writing historical short stories. One of them was that “small details matter more than large ones.” His example was about a story that led him to think he’d “need to know how the mechanics of animation worked in the 1940s and 1950s, the tasks of an inbetweener or an inker.” While acknowledging that “the information was useful,” he concluded that it wasn’t the “dreamy material” that leads to compelling stories. He discovered that the small details were more important: “the weight of a pencil in an animator’s hand when held the right way, how images ghost up through a stack of drawings when pegged onto a lightboard, the sound a moviola makes when a reel of new film stutters across its screen.” He used these “small daily details” to build a “believable historical setting.”

While I fully support his premise that the small details matter, I am convinced that his understanding of the larger world of the mechanics of animation in the 1940s and 1950s also informed his work, that knowing which small details to use may have been helped by knowing the broader subject matter thoroughly.

This brings me back to the issue of research, which I seem unable to leave (see previous couple of blog posts). How much is enough? How much is too much? (One comment on my last blog post suggested that while conducting research, it’s important to remember actually to write–a valid point.) I have found, however, that the small details that stand out in my own research and which I wish to use in my story only stand out because I know their importance from the larger context. I don’t disagree with Pierce, but I wonder how much his broader research into the period helped those small details jump off the research page as “musts” to include in his story. For his full article, see https://www.writermag.com/improve-your-writing/fiction/historical-short-stories/ It’s well worth a read.

How Much is Enough? Research and Your Novel

May 27, 2019 By Aline Soules

On two recent occasions, I heard different authors talk about the amount of research needed for a novel. Both of them argued in favor of doing enough research to ensure that what they wrote would be possible, but no more. Their perspective was that they were writing fiction, not history.

Other authors believe that you must “know” your background material so thoroughly that what you write is fully founded. This requires extensive reading, both general and specific, and absorbing as much as you can, whether or not you include all the information in your novel. This gives authenticity to your work.

As I write my historical novel, I have come to the latter belief. For my current novel, I began by reading extensively about the areas where my novel is set. Since then, I have discovered the need to read extensively in areas I could never have imagined, from mores to explosives.

As I think back on novels I’ve read over the years, particularly historical novels, the examples that stand out in my mind are the ones where I know the author is fully conversant with his/her/eir subject matter, and those examples come from all types of genres.

Consider The Spanish Bride by Georgette Heyer, a romance novel based on the true story of Harry Smith and Juana Maria de los Dolores de Leon Smith. Heyer knew the period and the story completely. Or the bestseller, The Ugly American, by Eugene Burdick and William J. Lederer, which sent the main character, Homer Atkins, to Southeast Asia to advise the fictional country of Sarkhan. Atkins challenges what he finds and exposes U. S. foreign policy as dangerous, on the wrong track, and losing.

In a recent issue of The New Yorker (May 27, 2019), Mark Singer profiled the television writer, David Milch. While the article’s purpose is to address Milch’s dementia and Milch’s thoughts about his dementia, the article naturally discusses his writings, one of which was Deadwood, considered one of Milch’s best works. To quote Singer: “He [Milch] began writing the pilot episode only after having spent two years digesting biographies and historical accounts of mining, the Indian wars, territorial politics, whorehouse and gambling protocols, rudimentary systems of justice, and criminality mundane and monstrous.” Milch is clearly not a proponent of “just enough.” Authenticity is part of the show’s success.

Consequently, I respectfully disagree with the concept of “just enough,” even if it has worked for some authors. Thorough research and the success of the well-researched and well-understood works I’ve specifically mentioned come from the in-depth, no-short-cut approach of the authors. No matter how time-consuming, the investment is worth the effort. The author can be confident in the details of his/her/eir work and allow the “fiction” to shine through.

The Research Dilemma

February 21, 2019 By Aline Soules

Magnifying glass — Image credit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnifying_glass

Until I retired to write, I spent my formal working life as an academic librarian. As part of that job, I engaged in research and writing, along with helping others in their research and writing work. I regularly faced this question: If I don’t find what I’m looking for, is it because it isn’t there or did I miss it?

This dilemma is less intense for fiction writers, even historical fiction writers, because we aren’t conducting original research that must be complete and accurate or where results will affect life and death decisions, but we still face the same dilemma. If our work doesn’t come across to the reader as ‘authentic,’ the fictive dream is broken and the reader’s gone. That requires extensive and intensive research.

There are also certain historical periods that are fanatically known and researched by professionals and amateurs alike. Examples include the American Civil War and World War II. If a devotee disagrees with the tiniest fact that we’ve researched and swear is correct, he/she/ey can pillory us in a review that goes viral. Readers will accept fictional characters, but any real characters, the setting, the details must be as accurate as possible.

One of my adult students wrote about his favorite books by Mary Renault. She wrote fictional novels set in ancient Rome and Greece, a period he enjoys and he’s a fan, partly because she wrote good stories and partly because she conveys the authenticity that comes from a deep knowledge the period. Her main characters were fictional, the rest was not.

I can think of other fiction writers who carry that same authenticity. I am not a huge fan of historical romance, but I’ll read a book by Georgette Heyer anytime. She knew the manners, the culture, the diction of the historical periods where she set her books.

I was born in Scotland. Well-meaning acquaintances will draw my attention to historical fiction set there. Once, I was offered a book set in 16^thcentury Scotland. I began reading, but gave up when I encountered dialogue that included the phrase “No problem” in response to a favor one character had bestowed upon another. I found this so egregious, I couldn’t continue.

When I get discouraged about my research—just one more fact, just one more book to read—I remind myself that my goal is to transport my reader to another time and place, as well as tell the reader a story. I think about the phrase “no problem,” and I return to my research with renewed vigor.

The Joy of Year-End Lists

January 29, 2019 By Aline Soules

*Image credit:*https://www.bookdepository.com/bestbooksever

Although some people lists annoying, I revel in year-end lists, especially of books. What have I read? Not read? Do I agree with the list? Do I not? It’s like being given the mast of a ship against which I can test my sails. Even a month into the new year, I still go back to the lists. Here are some to consider:

you get the idea. There’s plenty of overlap, but that, too, is one of the good things about these lists. The overlap is instructive, whether it shows popularity or reader interest or just plain great writing. That’s what to look for, if you’re a writer. The great writing. Have at ’em.

Writing from the Self

January 3, 2019 By Aline Soules

Image credit: http://www.newarkthinktank.org/wrs_poetry

Recently, Justin Cox reminded readers of this quote:

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
Cyril Connolly, 1933, as quoted in the patron-only January newsletter of Patreon, https://www.patreon.com/home

As timely today as it was in 1933, this statement reminds me that I’m a writer. Yes, I’m an author, too, but, even if I hadn’t published anything, I’d still be a writer. I choose to write on a computer, but if we were back in cave life, I’d etch on the walls with a rock. It’s who I am.

I’ve always written, even as a child. When I was born in Scotland, only some Christians celebrated Christmas. For families who did celebrate, one neighborhood “rule” was that we children had to sit down and write thank you letters for our presents on Boxing Day (Dec. 26). Most of my friends were dragged to this. I thought it was fun. I was a writer, finding different ways to say thank you. My thanks were more enthusiastic the more I liked a particular present. My most eager thanks were for gifts of books.

I never thought about becoming an author when I was in “single digits.” But I knew I was a writer. And I always will be, as long as I can pick up a pen or clack on a computer.

As I enter another year of writing, the quote also reminds me why I’ve come to writing historical fiction. We can call this quote timeless because we have the distance that enables us to realize its continued validity today.

The lessons of history, in whatever form they take, are hard come by. History is what has been written down, both in primary and secondary sources. That, inherently, means bias. What we choose to write also implies what we haven’t written down, what’s lost. As I read extensively in researching my novel, I’ve become more and more aware of the fragility of knowing what really happened. My novel is set in Europe in WWII and much has been written, but always from a perspective and often from a set of constraints on the writer. Or is the writer an “author” in this case? Sometimes no, if the writer never intended for the words to be read, but sometimes yes, if the writer was aiming at sharing those words with others, from a small group of family members to formal publication.

When I read these many works, I seek what really happened, if it’s possible to know that, and I seek the writer’s “self.” It’s very important to me to find the “authenticity” in the work, to know that the writer truly believes the words he/she/they have put on the page. I want a writer who conveys passion and conviction on the page, someone who gives me deep-seated belief in the subject matter, even though I am that writer’s “public,” planned or otherwise. I need the one who writes for the public, but only one who has found and written from “self.” And I strive to be that writer myself.