It all started with a dream…

Cover for Twisting the Border showing cacti against a night sky and the tagline: Journey to heroism--or infamy.
Spinster and painter Lavinia lives a quiet life in Chicago. Escorts her mother on calls. Teaches her nieces to draw. Attends lectures at the local lyceum. Wants nothing more.

Then, in the wake of a cholera epidemic, ghosts haunt her. Manifest every time she leaves the house. Spark riots and mobs storming through the streets. She fears discovery as the cause.

Fleeing into a self-imposed exile, she accompanies her younger brother on a border survey and scientific expedition to San Diego.

Moving and powerful, Twisting the Border sets Lavinia on the path to heroism–or villainy.

A couple of years ago, I woke from a dream with a particular moment in history in mind, and a couple of characters watching in expectation of something rather different than happened in our world. Alternate history–historical fantasy–whichever or whatever, the characters persisted in forcing me to start telling their tales.

Twisting the Border is a serial novel–or a sequence of linked short stories. The first installment/story will be available on Friday 21 June, with other installments/stories to follow the third Friday of every month.

I’ll reveal the covers two weeks before each installment launches, both here and on my Fb page. Plus, I’ll share a few key moments/passages for each story on my Fb page. Or sign up for my quarterly newsletter to get more advance snippets, tidbits, and exclusive insights (such as the core bibliographies of research works/sites consulted for each installment) plus a free story with a connection to Twisting the Border.

It started with a dream. Or does it all start here? Join Lavinia, Edward, Harriet, Jonny, Nick, and more on a life-changing, world-changing adventure to heroism—or infamy.

Sedona

For the most part, my Tuesday posts focus on particular historical sites many of which I’ve visited in person. (I’ve got a nice backlog of sites yet to post, plus plan on visiting a number in the next months, so I won’t run out of the I’ve-visited anytime soon). Today, however, the topic is a place.

Sedona’s got a number of reputations. I can’t speak to all, or even most, of them, but one thing it does have in spades is atmosphere. And that, of course, is a wonderful thing for inspiration.

So here are a variety of photos of the red rocks, hills, and mountains from my visit. These barely scratch the surface, but may give at least a taste.

And I’ll take inspiration from them as I go off to write a story that isn’t set in Sedona, but is in a similarly atmospheric locale.

Phocion R. Way

Something a little different for today — a primary source. I use secondary sources a lot, often because they’re easier, tend to be in English (I can read Spanish, but I’m very slow), and bring hard-to-find sources and information closer to hand. That said, whenever I find a relevant primary source there’s a general celebration of one sort or another.

Whether or not I like the author of said primary source is a different matter. There’s often plenty of reasons not to like them. They have different mores, values, and ideas. These may or may not be typical of the time, but they tend to be different from our time (or at least from me). The “catch” title of the diary of Phocion R. Way, as printed in 2016, is Overland via “Jackass Mail” in 1858, and as far as I’m concerned the title adjective can apply to the author as well as his mode of travel.

Nevertheless, “Jackass Mail” refers to the San Antonio-San Diego Mail Line, evidently called such “because passengers often had to ride on muleback from Fort Yuma to San Diego.” Way, however, headed to Tubac, Arizona, and stayed there for quite a while.

What prompted me to purchase the pamphlet (while visiting the Tubac Presidio State Historic Park) was Phocion’s descriptions of his month-plus travels from Cairo, Illinois, to Tubac. He traveled a little later than the characters in my serial novel / short story sequence Twisting the Border. Nevertheless, his experiences were close enough in time that I can make use of his observations of travel–albeit filtered and repurposed. For instance, the fifth installment has several of my characters taking a steamer from New Orleans to the Texan port of Indianola. They experience very different weather (a storm where Way had a very calm trip), but pass the same buoy as he did, and the steamer stops in Galveston as his did. Similarly, the sixth installment takes place near Victoria, so Way’s observations of his passage come in handy (albeit he traveled in spring whereas my characters face late summer heat).

This post is not in praise of Phocion R. Way–but of primary sources, of which his 1858 diary is one.

Valles Caldera

Valles Caldera is a National Preserve — and the most recent (as of this writing). It includes a lovely 13 mile bowl circled by higher lands, courtesy of an eruption a very long time ago. It’s dormant, but there are signs of activity now and then.

I visited briefly while in the area. Alas, most of my visit was during a drenching rainstorm (seriously heavy rain, and this from someone who’s lived through some torrential downpours). There was a break long enough to stop by the visitors center and to walk around a bit.

Here’s a photo of part of the caldera, complete with the resurgent dome.

Mountain in the distance with a smaller domed peak rising from the floor of the caldera, surrounded by fields
Valles Caldera

The image also captures the mistiness of the day, and the re-impending storm. Someday I’d like to go back during better weather to hike around!

Research and Frustration

In specific, historical research and frustration. There are a lot of wonderful resources and people keep churning out more. Which is terrific and worth celebrating. And yet, and yet . . . the course of research nevertheless includes a myriad of dead ends and unexpected road blocks.

And sometimes, that terrific, wonderful resource is terrific and wonderful about everything except the particular facts for which one is currently searching. While I’m mostly writing historical fantasy, I’m invested in making it as historical as possible. Yes, some events and likely people are different, and there most certainly is magic, but magic doesn’t change everything. Moreover, the particular kinds of magic in this world haven’t slowed or stopped certain technological developments (they haven’t stopped various other developments either, but that’s another matter and one that, inasmuch as it can, the stories address).

At any rate, I’m experiencing a variation on that at the moment. I used a number of resources while writing “Drinking Unhappiness” aka Twisting the Border #2 (out in mid-July), which is set on a steamboat headed down the Mississippi River in an alternate 1850s America. All was well (enough).

Then the characters had to go and disembark in New Orleans (site of story #4) where they waited for a ship to carry them to the port of Indianola in Texas.

So I promptly began the next round of research. (These rounds mean I have an ever-growing bibliography of sources, which I’ll start adding to the website in June as they become available.) Did the characters take a steamboat along the Texas coast? A sailing ship? How much (or rather, little) space would they have had? What did it smell like? How many crew and in what capacity? How long did the journey take. Oh, so many questions flew through my brain.

To my delight, I found some excellent, decidedly relevant books . . . except they’re missing the very information I require. One, just checked out today, discusses all manner of Victorian travel–but not, evidently, along the Texas coast. The other discusses the shift from sail to steam, but doesn’t have the details I want.

In the end, I’ll mesh these and others together to come up with the equivalent experience in my historical fantasy world. It will be as historical as I can make it–but even writers of historical fiction face research limits (not to mention inconvenient events plot-wise).

Here are the two main secondary sources I’ll use for now. I have a couple of primary to draw elements from too, and perhaps there are more where these come from. I only need enough, after all, not every detail out there under the sun.

Richard Francaviglia, From Sail to Steam: Four Centuries of Texas Maritime History, 1500-1900. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998.

John H. White, Jr. Wet Britches and Muddy Boots: A History of Travel in Victorian America. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2013.

Serpent Mound

This is one of many earthworks in the eastern and central parts of the United States. For a long time, white historians and antiquarians believed these the work of a vanished people, “the Moundbuilders,” separate from the various indigenous peoples living in the areas. The white historians and antiquarians were wrong, and now the historical establishment agrees with the indigenous that these were the work of their ancestors. Sadly, too many were destroyed as Europeans built their own works across the land. Some survive, such as this. Ohio History Connection currently runs it as a museum.

Shows several loops of mounded earth
Most, but not all, of the Serpent Mount, as seen 2/3 up the viewing station

I visited there last summer, on (then) lovely day (it rained later. A lot. Plus thunder and lightning, which made my mother’s dog, traveling with us, very unhappy). At that time, the museum operators were keeping the mound mowed. I’ve heard since that they’re reconsidering this–but have yet to get back.

There’s a viewing station from which one can see most/all of the earthwork. It helps if you don’t mind heights or see-through stairs. There’s a walk around, but folks are (understandably) requested to keep off the actual mound.

It’s not clear just how old it is, but other mounds nearby date to 800 B.C.E. to 100 C.E. so it’s probably from somewhere in that range.

Here are a few more photos from my visit, closer up to various portions of the serpent.

Silencing the Past

This is a great book, and that isn’t just my opinion! It received a 20th anniversary reissue, which speaks to influence, reach, and the number of people who have/continue to buy it. I highly recommend anyone writing historical fiction or historical fantasy (as I do) read it and consider how the issues it discusses impact the times/worlds in which they right.

Okay, so what is the book?

Michel-Rolph Trouillot. Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History.

To quote from the 20th anniversary description, it offers “an indispensable analysis of the silences in our historical narratives, of what is omitted and what is recorded, what is remembered and what is forgotten, and what these silences reveal about inequalities of power.”

Even if no characters in a given work are historians, this addresses questions which matter in terms of world-building and character-building.

Who was there—in that particular place and time?

What might they have been doing, or not doing, and why?

How do we know, or do we?

Which is not license to say oh we don’t know, so I can make it up. Go ahead and make it up, but call it what it is: fiction.

Or well we don’t know so-and-so was x, so I can pick-and-choose. Yes, you can, but there are (often) consequences.

Now, most authors of historical fiction and fantasy are well aware of these considerations. Hence the author’s note at the back of many published works, or lists of references on webpages. The agonized worrying over what we can change for the sake of story and what we can’t (and who will / won’t notice).

What Silencing the Past offers me is an apt reminder to consider who’s in a story, who’s telling it, who knows what. And an elegant, powerful discussion of ways this has manifested, with examples drawn from the author’s scholarship and research on Haiti and the Haitian Revolution.

The main series of stories / novel installments I’m writing take place in the 1850s United States. They start in Chicago and head for San Diego by way of New Orleans, San Antonio, El Paso, and Tucson. So I need to think about who was there, in reality—and what that means for the story / stories I’m writing. Whenever possible, I use primary sources for research. Many are wonderful because they document what people noticed / did in the places my characters go and at that time. They are also, one and all, problematic. What don’t the authors notice? Why are these accounts available now and not others? And, of equal import to me, at least: how can I work through these books to make the fantastical version of reality reflect diversity.

I don’t pretend to have solved anything. Or to be the first to have thought about these matters. I’m not in either case.

That’s okay. I don’t have to be. I appreciate the work others have done and are doing (and I will appreciate the work they will do, when done) to explore these issues with respect to history whether non-fiction, fiction, or fantasy.

Which is all a long-winded way of endorsing this book for those interested. It has and continues to make an impact on me. So thanks Michel-Rolph Trouillot, even though you’ll likely never see this entry.

Jemez Historic Site

The Jemez Historic Site is set a reasonable drive from Albuquerque and Santa Fe. It contains the ruins of an old village and church, both built in the early 1600s. Near the church ruins lie the remains of a kiva. When paying the entrance fee, I asked about photographs and was told it was okay to take them anywhere except inside the kiva — so I didn’t take any in the kiva.

Here are a few of the church:

And an image from the start of the walk which tickled my funny bone–the part about the rattlesnakes, that is, which is also quite apt! (I quite agree with all sentiments on this sign.)


Character Origins

I’m in the mood to think—and write—about characters. More specifically, what’s on my mind is the matter of developing characters. Is it author choice, or does the character arrive on-page and begin dictating things, or are there negotiations between end points?

I’ve heard various people muse on different aspects. One author may aver characters and stories come from story gods (or other external but intangible sources) and the writer merely serves as the channel or perhaps embarks upon a trip of discovery. Others invest time in developing characters, perhaps completing forms or filling pages with descriptive information as they create the character—who then serves their purposes in the story.

And some of us fall in between.

Coming up with characters can be considered to resemble sculpting. Some sculptures are built up out of materials (clay, bicycle chains) and others formed through subtraction (carving stone or wood).

Those analogies work for me, for the most part. A number of my characters are built up. They serve certain needs, and I try to make sure they’re as fully rounded as possible (and likewise try to convey that on the page, sometimes more successfully than others). Other characters involve discovering things about them, learning who they are and who they’re not as I subtract extraneous material to find their shape. And still other times it’s a negotiation process where I offer a deal, they counter, and maybe we can find a way to meet both of our needs.

Then again, sometimes it feels as though my main characters just like to boss me around. They’ll tell me if I get things really right—most of the time. They’ll drag their feet or roll their eyes when I’m trying to make them do things that don’t fit—most of the time. Occasionally, they go along pretending only to say “about time” or the equivalent when I finally figure out I’ve been going in the wrong direction. There’s one particular story I’ve started at least four times and still haven’t gotten it to work. Twice the characters let me get quite far along before things fell apart. I think the latest start will work, but the key pov character hasn’t decided whether to tell the story 1st pov or 3rd (and in this case, given the trouble I’ve had, I’m going to defer to her).

Because the thing is, when these characters are right they’re REALLY right.

And, for me at least, most of the time they’re the POV characters and/or the main characters (the two not necessarily being the same thing, after all).

I’ll give you an example of how this works out in practice, albeit with some details obscured for the sake of not spoiling things for anyone who actually reads this and starts following my work.

A number of years ago, I had a very vivid dream. A character was watching a particular pivotal moment in US history in full knowledge that, if all went according to plans, the moment would turn in a very different direction than it did in our reality.

I knew various things about that character—or I thought I did. She was an older woman named Janny (50s or 60s) and a tracker or otherwise very savvy in living in the wild.

I distinctly remember waking up thinking this could be really neat, but it was also going to require a lot of time and effort to do it right. At the time I was on a writing hiatus. The character accepted my decision. I thought.

A couple of months later, I happened to see an anthology call which generally fit the parameters of the dream world & character. Janny showed up in my head and insisted I write the story of the dream.

No, I told her, not happening. It’s too big for a short story.

Fine, she replied (or did she?), start here.

Next thing, I wrote a short story set 50 years earlier—Janny showed up, but as a supporting characters. Long story short, it didn’t make it into the anthology (though I got a very nice rejection letter)–which was just as well because I didn’t know enough then to realize what I was tackling.

Or how much I’d gotten wrong in that story.

Do I know now? Not necessarily—though I do know more.

For one—the character in my dream? Turned out to be an amalgamation of two characters, neither fully fitting the description and neither answering to the name of Janny. (Although one of the two does go by something close.)

It’s just as well I didn’t realize the full extent of my characters’ ambitions. Several more have slowly stepped out of the shadows and begun to share themselves with me.

In part because I’ve backed up. I’m starting at a beginning point—where a particular character makes a decision which sets her on the road to being part of this big story . . . assuming she survives long enough.

I haven’t written the story about the moment in the dream and probably won’t for a reasonably long time. The big tale has decided it wants to be made up of moments and developments. I’m telling it as a sequence of short stories or a serial novel — or a mix between those two (some installments work well as short stories, others not quite so well).

The main characters want to share their journey as well as the end destination. (If push comes to shove, I’ll admit I don’t actually know how the whole thing ends for once. I know the first and second turning points, but this will be three arcs / acts / serial novels and I don’t know the end of the third.)

Most of them don’t tell me when I’m getting things wrong, they just slow down and drag their feet. But I’m getting better at recognizing this and negotiating with them.

Because I want to know how this ends.

I can’t tell you . . . yet.

I can tell you when and where it starts—in June, 2019, when I will publish “Hollow Ghosts” the first installment in the Twisting the Border sequence. Come, pull up a chair and take a peek as one character takes the first step on the road to heroism . . . and infamy.

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