One of Life's Big Questions

Why is it that when you need your 10-year-old daughter to get up at 6 a.m. (like on a school day) she's sleeping like the dead, but when you don't (like on a Sunday morning when you woke up with this fabulous idea you simply MUST get on the computer), she has an alarm set for 6 a.m.?

I Get a Second Chance - and Maybe I Passed This Time

(I wasn't so disheartened by my previous experience that I gave up on writing. My blog silence has been for a positive reason - our family took a nice, long vacation to the Yellowstone area. Simply wonderful...)

If you read the previous post, you know I recently chickened out when given the opportunity to talk about my book. I got a second opportunity last night, and still stinging from the virtual tongue-lashing from Nan (I'm smiling as I say that, Nan!), I was determined to get it right this time.

Last time, I was embarrassed when a casual friend asked what the book was about, and I tried to change the subject. This time, I was the one who brought up the book to someone I just met (a bit timidly, I'll admit, but I needed to explain why I haven't been attending any of the spouse activities at the band directors' convention for the past five years - too busy researching and writing during those precious solitary hours!). I felt that twinge of "this person doesn't care about this at all," but I resisted the urge to let the subject drop, and I forged on to respond with what I hoped was a coherent and concise description of not only the first book but the WiP, as well. Not once did I make any kind of statement that was intended to minimize the importance of what I am doing (which has been a challenge for me in the past).

Even though this was only one person, and even though she's not anyone who could make any difference in the fate of the book, it feels like a victory!

Do I Really Have It in Me?

About a month ago, I gave my first book to a school librarian to get her feedback on whether she thinks it has any potential for tie-ins to the school's history curriculum. So far she hasn't responded. I knew I would see her tonight since a friend of both our families was getting married.

Sure enough, we had a table together at the reception (she works with my husband, as does the school's choir director, who was also at the table). The first thing she said after she sat down was, "I haven't read your book yet, but it's next on my list to take out by the pool." I made some awkward comment, and then the choir director said, "I started to read it, but I had to give it back before I got very far into it." Her daughter (who was also at the table) was one of my early readers, and she pointed out that she had had the chance to read it. That started a few moments of conversation about the book and people wanting to read it.

That's a writer's dream, right? To have people talking about your book and giving your compliments. Want to know my reaction? I was so embarrassed...I kept trying to change the topic of the conversation, and finally did so successfully, to my great relief. Nothing more was said about my book.

I know that is counterproductive. I was reading a blog post just the other day about all the promotion writers have to do, whether they are backed by a traditional publisher or publish independently. On the way home from the wedding, I was telling my husband how I had felt while they were talking about my book, and he said, "You'll just have to get over that. If people want to say something nice about your book or your talent, you will need to accept it. Otherwise, you are going to look like a snob."

He's right, of course. I don't understand why I feel this way about it. It's not that I am not proud of the way the book turned out...I think it's pretty darn good, and I don't think it's a waste of people's time to read it. I've had several very nice comments about it...in fact, everyone's who's read it was quite complimentary, even the agent who turned it down after seeing the complete manuscript. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind, though, I don't quite believe them. Some part of me keeps insisting that I am deluding myself, and that this is really just a silly little book about silly little things that doesn't deserve to be on the same library shelf with works by Debbie Macomber and L.A. Meyer*. No matter how many people tell me it's good, and no matter who those people are, I'm not sure I will ever be able to shush that voice. I guess it is less of a psychological threat to tell myself the book's insignificant. Then if other people say that, I can always say to myself, "yeah, you already knew that." Then at least my sense of being "smart" is preserved!

Well, I've got to find a way to "get over it." I need to bring the same confidence I have about my teaching over into my writing. I need to remind myself that there was a time back 20-something years ago when I was new to teaching and any negative comments on student evaluations stung. But I didn't quit teaching just because a few students didn't like my teaching style. Writing is more personal than teaching, true, but it is a "job," too, not just navel-gazing (as one of my colleagues is fond of saying). I need to treat it professionally. I wouldn't bat an eye if someone gave me a compliment on my teaching or said they wanted to take one of my classes. I would thank them or say I hope we would get the chance to work together in class. Why should I respond any differently about my writing?

*There's no special reason I chose those authors; I would fall between them alphabetically, see.

Finding Edward DuVal

Last week, I made the "sacrifice" to chauffeur my son to a camp for students who play brass instruments. That meant I was "stuck" from 9-3:30 everyday in the genealogy room of the city's library with nothing to do but work on my writing. It was a productive week - I finished two chapters. But I might have done more if I hadn't become obsessed with a new project - finding Edward DuVal.

If you've read this blog at all, you've learned two things about me: first, that my WiP is about the struggle between the Cherokee and the white settlers for the land that became the state of Arkansas, and second, that I am rather a stickler for accuracy ("done but for the toe," not "done but for the cuff.") Edward DuVal was the U.S. government's agent to the western Cherokee during the time my book takes place. In order to work in some of the important events that were part of the Cherokee/white struggle, I'm going to have my protagonist (John David) luck into a job as a transcriptionist for DuVal. That will put John David in a position to observe the inner workings of those events.

DuVal will, therefore, be a rather important character in this book. So over the past months, I've been trying to find out as much as I can about him, so as to be as accurate as possible in my protrayal of him. I know that probably doesn't matter to anyone but me, but it does matter to me. I had learned quite a bit about DuVal by reading the correspondence between him and his bosses at the War department in Washington in the Arkansas Territorial papers. The impression I got was that of a man who was ambitious, but eager to do his job well and to be fair to the Cherokee, even if it meant bypassing the territorial government (which I think DuVal saw as inept and biased). I read in Josiah Shinn's Pioneers and Makers of Arkansas that DuVal was a "young" man when he came to Arkansas Territory, and that he was eage to "magnify" the office of Indian agent, and therefore made some mistakes, like not respecting the territorial governor.

A couple of months ago, I hit a little vein of rich information by asking "The Google" (as my sister calls it, ha ha). I found in the footnote of an old book that DuVal had served as a clerk in the Department of the Navy, and although he was only a lowly clerk, sort of became the "go-to" guy for anyone who wanted access to William Jones, the Secretary of the Navy. However, when Jones was replaced as secretary, DuVal lost his position of favor and ended up as a storekeeper at the Navy Yard in Baltimore. I discovered by perusing a list of President Monroe's papers that DuVal had tried after that point to get a number of political appointments, including several out West. He tried, unsuccessfully, to be named Secretary of Mississippi Territory and, later, Secretary of Arkansas Territory. Finally, in 1823, he got his wish: in what was probably one of the last acts of President Monroe, DuVal became the Cherokee agent.

An interesting little side note: I found testimony from William Jones regarding the burning of the Naval Yard when the British were invading Washington, DC, during the War of 1812. Apparently DuVal was with him when Jones gave the order to burn the Yard. DuVal may have even been part of the crew that carried out that order. Quite exciting, I thought!

That brings me back to my week in the Fort Smith library. I had a set of questions about DuVal that I hadn't been able to answer with The Google alone. Most relevant to my story was the question of DuVal's age. But I also needed to know something about his family, and I wanted to know something about his military background. I haven't done much genealogical research; that is my sister's specialty (and she has certainly pulled some magnificant rabbits out of the hat for me from time to time!). Looking up family trees and at lists of men who were mustered during the War of 1812 and at historical lists of officers in the U.S. Army and Navy was a new experience -- and I sort of became addicted. I found out from old newspaper accounts when and vaguely how DuVal died (in 1830 of a "violent illness that lasted two or three days"), and (I think) how old he was (one account said he was 40 at the time of his death, so I'm taking their word for it). I found out from census records that DuVal probably had at least three young sons when he moved to Arkansas, and from an old letter that his wife had a "fine daughter" shortly before he died. I thought I had found a marriage record which turned out to be the wrong Edward DuVal, but I did eventually find out his wife's name (Ellen Jones).

That's all I need for my book, right? What is important is NOT Edward DuVal, it is the history that he was part of making. However, as I got involved in this research, Edward became sort of a friend, and I found myself wanting to know more and more about him. Was this Ellen Jones he married the daughter of his boss at the Navy Department, William Jones? Just what WAS Edward's military record? I couldn't find him in any of the lists of the War of 1812. Was he a political appointee who gave himself airs by referring to himself as "Major" DuVal, or was he really a major? How many children did Edward and Ellen have? What happened to Ellen and those children after Edward died from that "violent illness"?

Last night, I finally decided (at nearly midnight) that this obsession with DuVal had gone far enough and that I must quit (or at least suspend) the research on him because it's getting in the way of other pursuits (like sleeping!). So I'm not allowing myself to search for those answers any more right now. Maybe later I will do that. Maybe sometime I will put it all together and write an article about DuVal to submit to the state historical journal. (hmmmm.....on second thought, I wonder if there is any kind of state prize for historical articles? I seem to recall something about that....hmmmmmm.........)

History As It Was, and History As It Is Remembered

I'm reading a young adult book about the Civil War right now, and I came across something last night that brought up an issue I think writers of historical fiction may have to consider. The first-person narrator of the book noted that the newspapers were filled with news about the proclamation Abraham Lincoln had made freeing the slaves. This gave me one of those "Now, wait a minute..." moments because the date in the book was in the fall of 1862, just after the battle of Antietam, and I thought I remembered from my history classes in school that the Emancipation Proclamation was in 1863. I thought, "Surely this author CAN'T have made such a careless error???!!!"

This morning I decided to look it up. What I found was that Lincoln originally put forth the Proclamation as a sort of ultimatum - the states had until January 1, 1863 to rejoin the Union or all their slaves would be freed. The second order, issued on January 1, 1863, specified 10 Southern states in which the slaves would be freed. So the author was more right than my history classes. But my point is, what if I were too lazy to check the facts? I would have continued reading this book with a reduced suspension of disbelief, believing it was the author who had things wrong, not me.

That leads me to my issue for writers to consider. To what degree do we have to adapt to readers' understanding of history? Sometimes popular culture (and that includes education) has simplified things to make it easier to remember and to deal with the plethora of facts that make up not only American history, but world history. The Emancipation Proclamation WAS issued in the fall of 1862; however, it technically didn't take effect until none of the states met the ultimatum, which happened in 1863. So, instead of taking time to offer the more nuanced version of the events, my teachers told us the Proclamation came out in 1863. I memorized the fact for a test, and I'm sure I passed (I liked history class!). I felt pretty proud of myself since that bit of information has stayed with me for 30 years--until I found out what really happened.

Do I blame my teachers for giving me a dumbed-down version of the events leading to the Emancipation Proclamation? I don't know. It must be tough to try to cram 400+ years of human events into a year-long course, and that's just American history. Add to that difficulty the fact that most students, unlike me, aren't especially motivated to care about history, and I think I can begin to understand why teachers try to get whatever facts they can into kids' heads, even if those facts aren't fully accurate.

A writer, it seems to me, has a good opportunity to help educate children (and adults) about the full version of events. The advantage of historical fiction is that these "facts" are coated with the sugar of a plot and compelling characters, perhaps motivating the reader to care a little more about learning the history. My WIP provides an interesting example. Just about everyone has heard of the Trail of Tears, when the eastern Cherokee were forced by the U.S. government out of their homes in Georgia and made to travel in horrible conditions to what is now Oklahoma. That's only a part of the story, though. About 10-15 years earlier, the same scenario played out in Arkansas Territory. The Cherokee who had voluntarily moved to Arkansas were pushed out of their homes by the government and the greed of the white settlers. I don't think a lot of people realize that. Through the vehicle of a story about some of the white settlers and their Cherokee neighbors, I have the opportunity to bring those events back out of the obscurity of history and to remind people that they happened. That's part of what I enjoy about writing historical fiction, and it's definitely a part of why I enjoy reading historical fiction.

But...if it's not something that fits into the familiar history people have learned, and if they know they are reading fiction, how do I keep them from having the reaction I had in my reading last night? I can write an author's note, but people probably wouldn't read it until the end. I can try to link to events that are familiar and hope readers will get and buy into the connection. My favorite method is to make the characters and the setting ring true enough that the reader believes he/she can trust me to be right on the history too. This is where I think the author is failing in the book I'm reading right now. I had already had several other "Wait a minute..." moments earlier in the book, which set me up to be looking for them. That, I think, is the kiss of death for a writer of historical fiction.

A Motivation Problem

No, it's not my problem this time...I'm trying to understand what would make one of my characters act the way he does, and I would welcome any help.

This is from my second book, in which the protagonist was illegally squatting on Indian land and was evicted by the U.S. Army. He's currently living in a town on the side of the river the government gave to whites. The standard of living he and his family are experiencing is considerably higher than the one he had on his illegal farm. Yet he's pining for that piece of land.

What would make someone be so fixated on something like the land? I'm having some trouble understanding the character because I am much more practical than that, living by a sort of "get over it" mantra. Some of the possible motivations I've offered to myself include 1) he likes the landscape better than that south of the river (but it's not THAT different!), or 2) it reminds him of home (but again, it's not THAT different). So why can't he just get over it and say, "It's not that different, I'll just find a spot south of the river?" It's important to the plot of my story that he be fixated on living north of the river, because that's where the main conflict comes in. White people coveted this land the government had given to the Cherokees, and they put pressure on the politicians to move the Cherokees out--something that didn't take a tremendous amount of pressure, I might add.

Anyone have any thoughts? I greatly appreciate any help!

I HATE when this happens!

Forgive me if I'm a bit grumpy. I sat down tonight for the first time in three weeks to write some on my new book. At the time I had to quit, things were going very well. Ideas were just rolling out. However, it was those last busy weeks of school, with all the speeches and papers to grade, and of course, that's the job that pays the bills!

Now, all my momentum is gone. I can't even really remember the characters' personalities, much less where things were going at the time I had to quit. I'll have to go back and read everything I've written so far to get back into the flow. The bad thing is, I signed up to teach summer school (why, oh, why?!!!), so I don't know that I will have a chance to do that for another three weeks.

Grrrrrrrrr.........