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A Little Late to the Party


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIs that Next Big Thing blog meme still making the rounds? I sure hope so, because I was tagged weeks ago and I’m just now getting around to joining the fun. Thanks to Paul August (a prolific poet) for mentioning me in his Next Big Thing post. Go take a peek at what’s in his sights, a chapbook of his poems entitled, Apologizing to Fish.

Speaking of apologizing…I don’t mean to make excuses, but (the inevitable “but”), there are two reasons why I waited so long to write my NBT post: 1) all my writing friends have been tagged and been more timely in their posting (when you procrastinate, you miss the party) and 2) I find it difficult to talk about a project I secretly fear may never be finished (there. I said it).

Earlier this year, though, I wrote about my new rally cry, fearless writing, and I realized that filling out these questions is yet another way to take a risk: share your hope, imagine The End in sight.

My Next Big Thing

1) What is the working title of your book? The Company Town.

2) Where did the idea come from for the book? During a visit to a historical site, an old iron smelting town in Upper Michigan, I stepped into one of the laborers’ cabins and felt the weight of more than just history. It was the pull of stories from the people who had lived there. When we drove home that day, I wrote feverishly in the back seat of the car, trying to re-capture every sight, feeling, thought that came to me when we walked the grounds.

3) What genre does your book fall under? Historical fiction.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? I barely survived the first draft. Thinking about a movie rendition is like dreaming of how I will spend those lottery earnings when I haven’t even bought the ticket. Girl, stay in today.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? One sentence? Don’t we get a page and a half of tiny type with skinny margins to write a synopsis? One sentence! Argh! I’m already over my quota with this answer, but here goes: A young woman mistakes a bustling factory town for a safe haven but finds she can’t escape her secrets and can’t ignore the Company’s own dark truths.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? To that I’ll just say, I hope no agent is reading this (or that weak one-sentence synopsis) right now. Lordy.

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?Too long. I kept trying to craft the perfect ending, until I thought, Oh for crying out loud. Write the last scene as you see it and be done with this. A first draft is a FIRST draft. Once I got over my angst, I reached the end in one sitting.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Here are my ambitions: Anna Solomon’s The Little Bride, for the way place sets the mood and becomes its own character and Jenna Blum’s Those Who Save Us, for the way history propels the story.

9) Who or what inspired you to write this book? Photos of the laborers who lived in the cabins, and a book by Sarah Cowie, The Plurality of Power: An Archeology of Industrial Capitalism, which discusses all that was uncovered from underneath the surface of Fayette, markers of class structure and separation in even the smallest of communities.

10)What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? I don’t know, perhaps photos?

Fayette
The town of Fayette, MI.
hotel
The hotel where the protagonist works.
Slag Beach, the Company dump
Slag Beach, the Company dumping grounds.
flowers on slag beach
Flowers growing on Slag Beach today.

Now, I’m directing you to a post by Rochelle Melander on her Next Big Thing. She got creative with the task of answering the list of questions and turned her post into a writing exercise for anyone who’s considering a project or envisioning their writing journey. Take a look, see where the Next Big Thing takes you.

* Book and pen photo credit: mconnors on Morguefile.com

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Writer Incognito: Researching on the Road

That’s me, about the walk down the road to Fayette, the historic town site in Upper Michigan, and embark on some research. Fayette is a good six hours from my home in Milwaukee, so I had to wait until we went on vacation near enough to the site before I could steal away for the day and work. I packed a lunch, lathered on the sunblock, loaded up my writing utensils (notebook, pencil, camera) and mapped out my course.

With trees on either side of me and spotty cell service above, I spent the drive thinking through questions that lingered after my last visit too long ago, and I hoped I’d learn new information inspiring enough to push me through the remaining bit of my first draft. While at Fayette, I learned plenty: about the town in the late 19th century, about the depth of my self-doubt, and about researching in broad daylight under the hot sun in the middle of tourists.

Leave your sandwich in the car.

My timing was off a bit, as far as when I arrived in Fayette. It was too early to eat my lunch, but I knew I’d get hungry in the middle of walking around. The site isn’t so huge that I couldn’t hike back to the car and grab my lunch, but I was eager to get outside and move forward and not so eager to turn back in the middle of research. So, I opted to carry my sandwich with me, figuring I’d eat later when I couldn’t stand it any more.

What I couldn’t stand any more was my sandwich overheating and perspiring inside the plastic baggy. Nor could I bear to look at its sad state, wilting around the form of the rock I placed it on in order to snap another photo. Finally, even though I wasn’t starving, I sat down on a bench and gobbled it up, if only to rid myself of the weight and the guilt.

The lesson: eat before you exit the car, hungry or not. Nobody likes a sad sandwich.

Accept that tourists may view you as maybe important but mostly…odd.

I was the only person on site with a notebook that day, and all my scribbling got me some attention. In one building, I feverishly took notes on the iron smelting process, studying the placards with great intent. Someone approached me, then, and asked me a question about the process, because surely I knew. I stumbled through an answer and shrugged a few times. Then, in lieu of admitting outright that I was writing a novel, I blubbered, “It’s all so interesting, isn’t it?” Adding a maniacal laugh at the end. They responded in silence, turned around slowly, and walked away. As any good writer will, I immediately went into doubt mode, worrying that I’d just revealed myself as some sort of fake. That person will never read my book, I thought. Who am I to think I can manage this who novel business anyway? Then, I remembered: I’m not writing a book about the iron smelting process; I’m writing a book about the effects of an industry on the land and the people. And, maybe that person won’t be one of my readers. Perhaps he really did think me off kilter. What writer isn’t off kilter?

The lesson: don’t get too caught up in minute details. And, there’s nothing wrong with odd as long as it translates into a good story.

Pack an extra pencil in your pocket.

I put on some miles that day, and not just because I walked from building to building. I kept my pencil clipped to my notebook, but I still managed to drop my pencil twice. Once I had to high-step through grass and weeds to find it. Lucky for me, my pencil was bright blue and thus easy to spot. But, there’s nothing worse than backtracking when you see the sun moving toward the horizon. Unless you’re still walking around with a soggy sandwich. Yes. That’s worse.

The lesson: don’t trust your notebook to hold tight to your writing utensil.

Take photos of everything.

I must have turned my camera on and off a thousand times, foregoing any artistic eye and snap, snap, snapping away. I didn’t care, though. Some details do matter.

Like the peeling wallpaper in a kitchen, which was only spotted by standing on my tiptoes at the back of a boarded up house, peeking through one window left unblocked. I risked a close encounter with a mean looking spider for this shot. I don’t even know if it’s the original wallpaper, but I couldn’t resist.

My bulletin board soon will be full of photos of random shots, some with me shadowed in the background or mirrored in the glare of the window, record of a good day researching.

The lesson: talk nice to the spiders.

Even though my time in Fayette was short, I thought about the novel for every day after. Being surrounded by the landscape of the area was enough to feed my muse. I took notes during the small-town Fourth of July parade, on beach at Lake Superior, while riding a two-gauge train through the forest on our way to Tahquamenon Falls. I clicked the button on the camera any time we passed an interesting grove of trees or a patch of lumbered land. Now that I’m home, I’ll be pushing through to the end of this draft and using all those photos and notes for a serious rewrite.

Good times.

What do you do when you research on the road? How do you manage your sandwich?

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