The untitled work that I’ve been slogging through the last three years continues to morph as I try to figure out just what it is I’m trying to write. It’s been quite a while since I’ve done real research… I knew starting out I wanted the book to be set in Ohio, and I did a lot of research about Ripley as an Underground Railroad hotbed until I burned myself on all the sad stories of escaping slaves.
I didn’t want to write about Ripley, OH anymore, despite the rich history. I wanted to learn more about my city, Columbus.
So I switched my location from Ripley to Columbus in general… but back during the Civil War, Columbus was much more spread out and disconnected than it is today. Clintonville, Westerville, Grove City… they weren’t suburbs, though perhaps still part of Greater Columbus, they were areas in their own right.
I knew I wanted to write something referencing Camp Chase. What’s left of the Union barracks turned Confederate prison camp consists of the largest Confederate cemetery north of the Confederacy itself. Isn’t that fascinating by itself?
I didn’t want to write about the sad and scary conditions of the prison itself. I wanted to learn about what happened to those men after the war ended, after Lincoln was assassinated. And how did that effect people living in Columbus?
Bust mostly, it’s becoming clear to me I want to write something fun and escapist. This has been a challenge for me, because I’ve had some personal issues the last couple years which make it difficult for me to keep spirits high consistently. How would I write cheeky characters if I didn’t feel cheeky myself?
Is this what happens when a teenage writer grows up? She loses her “I don’t care, I do what I want and I’ll be funny while doing it” attitude?
I was trying to research Clintonville, OH because it’s near where I live and I figured, hey, it should be easy to find information online as a start, and then hit the libraries for in-depth research. No such luck! I couldn’t find anything very helpful about Clintonville.
On my birthday, however, The Boy took me to tour historic Grove City. This is an area south of Columbus, and has been teased over my years in Columbus as “Grove-tucky.” Ohioans have this thing for making fun of people from Kentucky; I don’t get it, I guess it’s because it’s south of us and oh, by the way, Kentucky didn’t ratify the 13th, 14th, or 15th Amendments until 1975? Your guess is as good as mine.
The fact is, Grove city has a lot of historical pride. An art gallery is housed in the first bank (1st floor) and telephone (2nd floor) building. A number of shops are in the old Gantz mill. History was within reach, and I was able to walk on floorboards and peek into old safes that might have been around during the time I’m trying to write about.
If I’m intending to write about a prisoner of Camp Chase who manages to escape before the prisoners were set free as a whole, then it would make more sense for him to escape south to Grove City, rather than north to Clintonville, wouldn’t it? Oh logic, how thee loves to play with mine heart. Anyway, Grove City has a pretty cool genealogical section in their library, which is how I took the photo of the image in this post. I haven’t had a chance to drive to Grove City in about two weeks, so I’m hoping to get there soon to continue research.
So yes. I’m writing a book that is set in Grove City, for now. I think this could work. I’ve already gotten some anectdotal stories about people’s reactions to Lincoln being re-elected, etc. Oh, the possibilities!
With the restart of the latest WIP, I’ve been using Evernote to collect research about living in 1864 Columbus, OH during and right after Lincoln’s death. As convenient as it is, I kinda miss the old way of doing research.
Once upon a time, I ran to the library to grab all the books on a topic. I filled paper journals with notes to reference when I couldn’t remember a clothing detail etc. It got a bit unwieldy the more mobile my life became. I have a bin of research for Catching the Rose, which I wrote back in high school, so my research methods weren’t quite so methodical and clean. I filled two paper journals of notes for Haunting Miss Trentwood, covering transportation, clothing, the rise of the “independent woman” in 1880s England, and even English law.
For this new untitled Work-in-progress, I’m trying something different: Evernote.
Evernote is nice because it allows me to “clip” interesting paragraphs, images, and other online research. It captures the URL for me, so I can go back and build my bibliography without fear of missing something. And, best of all, it provides tagging and searching capabilities! When I’m trying to remember just who tried to bust all those Confederates out of the Lake Erie-based Johnson’s Island prison, I can do it easily.
So it works for my mobile life of bouncing around town writing in different locations per my schedule and availability. I can look something up on my phone, which is awesome, but actual collecting of materials is best on a laptop. And it’s making a sorted bibliography super easy to create!
I’ll try to do a better job sharing some of the things I’ve been learning, whether that particular research detail makes it into the book or not. In terms of progress, I’ve written two-and-a-half chapters and it’s felt like pulling teeth, but at least it’s progress!
Today we have a guest post from Michael Seeley, something I’ve been meaning to post for… FAR too long. Sorry Michael! Anyway, let’s find out how Michael suggests how historical fiction authors can balance the market away from thrillers and modern romance.
We all know that thrillers and modern romances are the biggest sellers. They dominate the markets, and it seems to be what all our friends are reading. But what if you’re not into the newest spy-chase novel and the modern romance isn’t your thing? For me, the draw of historical fiction has always been stronger than the idea of writing-for-profit in a genre that will probably sell better. But, that leaves historical fiction writers at a disadvantage.
Or does it? What can we as author of historical fiction do to balance the market for us?
Write for the Public
First off, you must try to use what’s currently popular. What do you see in movies/other popular books/popular culture? For me, a military historian, a prime example of this is works on Rome and ancient Greece. The ancient world is hot right now. It’s sexy. Films like Gladiator, 300, Alexander, Centurion, The Eagle, and many more capitalize on that. They may not be exactly factual (but neither, strictly speaking, is historical fiction), but they do increase the public’s care and concern for history. For me, that means that works on Rome and ancient Greece will sell better. In fact, I’m in the process of planning a novel set in that age.
This works for other subgenres, like historical romance as well. Look at Downton Abbey and the like. Romance itself is timeless; make money from that. If you see that the Middle Ages is catching the public’s eye, use that to your advantage. Right now, Victorianism is ripe for writing. With Steampunk (a fantastic genre that is easily mixed with historical fiction), Sherlock Holmes, and others making a dent in pop culture, take advantage of it. Tailor your work for the public.
Use Historical Fiction to Change Your World
Although the money is fun, all authors also long to be remembered in their works. They want to have a lasting impact on their world. Don’t you? I’m just finishing Mary Renault’s masterpiece, The Last of the Wine. It’s set in Athens during the Peloponnesian War and follows a young soldier and student of Socrates. The protagonist, Alexias, falls in love with an older student and another philosopher, Lysis. The book tells the story of these men’s love, their lives, and the tragedy that is war. But what’s more is that it was written in the 1950s. At that time, being a homosexual was not only unpopular, it could be ruinous to one’s career, to one’s very life. Renault wrote the work in part to paint a larger picture of the issue.
She wrote the book because, as a homosexual, she was tired of the backlash. She wanted to show that, throughout time, homosexuals were just as capable of doing great deeds, of being human. Her works all touch on this and other social issues.
So can yours.
Do you care about the environment? Look at Victorian England and the damages just beginning by the Industrial Movement. How about immigration — do you find immigration policy today unfair? Look at Ellis Island. Use your genre to shed new light on an issue you’re passionate about. The beautiful thing about the past — the thing which let Renault get away with such commentary in an age of repression — is that everything is in a different context. In the age of kings and revolutions, actions are different than today. Looking into the past gives us the freedom to be critical, to be un-shaking in our critique or our praise for once was and is now lost. Your readers will make the connection. Your book can truly change your world.
Tell a New Story
How often have you read a story that sounds just like all the others? I can’t tell you the number of times. It seems like people are becoming more and more unoriginal. But you, as an author of historical fiction, have access to thousands of years and millions of stories waiting to be told. As authors in this genre, we have the license to find the gems in the past that get lost.
Recently, I was researching a famous general from the Napoleonic Age, but he almost never made it to manhood; as a child, he almost suffocated to death by pretending to be a dog. He got stuck in his family’s doggy-door, and because he was pretending, he refused to use his voice. All he did was bark. And his parents laughed at their funny son. Until he passed out. And turned blue. Obviously, he lived, but anecdotes like this are beautiful. You simply can’t make some of these things up!
Now, I’m not telling you to steal your stories. But, unlike those spy thrillers that sound the same, we have millions of people’s tales waiting to be redone. Research. Add your own voice. Change things. But draw from that amazing well that history gives us. You can then write a new story that will capture and inspire.
So, if you’re sick of people complaining of the power popular genres, use your tools. Write to fit what’s popular, use your historical lens to change the world, and bring amazing stories from the past to life.
Then see those run-of-the-mill thrillers compete.
At an early age, Michael Seeley found himself devouring books about the past. Then he started writing his own. His first novel, The Faith, is the opening to a trilogy about revolution and regicide. His second novel, Duty, asks what might have happened if Napoleon had won the Battle of Waterloo. His collected short fiction, Men of Eagles, offers new perspectives on the wars of the Napoleonic Age. Michael has found inspiration from the winding alleyways of Paris, the tall forests of Norway, and the impressive Acropolis of Athens, but he currently resides in the Midwest with his beautiful wife, listening to the winds whisper across the prairie. Find more about his work at http://www.seeleywrites.com and http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Seeley/e/B004M6J5PO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 .
I picked up the Writing Great Books for Young Adults by Regina Brooks from the library last night and have already worked through it and the select exercises provided within. I found it to be a great book because it’s practical, pragmatic, and from the viewpoint of an agent who knows what it takes to make a good story.
There were four exercises in particular that I found helpful: Historical, Emotional, Rebellion, and Wanted.
The Historical exercise was all about picking an era and writing a short blurb about someone during that time. Since I’m working on a Civil War book set in my hometown of Columbus, OH, this felt like it should have been a natural fit. I think because I assumed it should be easy, I think I made it difficult! Here is what I came up with, unedited:
It’s just after the Civil War and a teenage girl has been helping with the effort. A staunch Unionist surrounded by Copperheads at school, she despairs of ever fitting in. When she stumbles upon a wounded soldier, she helps him home to take care of him. His memories are gone, but little by little she realizes he might be a Confederate prisoner escaped from Camp Chase.
Something about this felt super flat. But it was more important to get the idea out there, so I went with it.
Then I tried the Emotions exercise, where you were tasked with taking some emotions you remember from your teenage years, and applying them to a character. This is the result of that exercise:
A Unionist teen is rejected by her Copperhead friends now that the war is won. She buries herself in preparations for Lincoln’s funeral procession [to avoid wallowing in sadness] when a wounded Confederate soldier falls into her lap, forcing her to confront ideas of what’s right and fair as she nurses him back to health.
This feels like it has a little more meat to it, if only because it feels more… human. There are emotions involved, people hurt and needing help, and you get a hint of the protagonist’s personality.
The Rebellion exercise was interesting because it is a lens where you think of a time when you tried/felt like rebelling against your parents…
Forced to stop associating with people she considered her friends, ______ resents her father for breaking her apart from them. She hates these people for following the new rules even while she makes excuses for them. She feels alone, betrayed, unheard, discarded, trapped, rejected, and yet somehow, aloof to it all if it will help her deal.
I didn’t really like that one. It felt kind of whiny.
Want Ad Exercise
The Wanted exercise was fun because it’s all about writing a want ad for your protagonist…
Average-looking, gangly 18-year-old female, unaware of her ability to make anyone feel at home. Questionable manners, average command of English, with a twang from childhood living in countryside. Staunch Unionist, but former friends with Copperheads. Logical-minded. Annoyed by inconveniences. Caring, but clumsy about showing it. Tendency to speak bluntly. Only daughter with younger brother, expected to be responsible and calm while mother fights illness and father returns from war.
I don’t know. Writing all of this out makes me realize how much work I have to do to really get back into writing. I’m fighting my looming frustration and sadness, trying to stay positive about this new book attempt and that I’m not a terrible writer. I have a lot of doubts right now, and as long as I don’t think about them, I can write. As soon as I think of my readers, however, I seem to freak out!
Anyway, feel free to send me your thoughts about these exercises! Email me, comment on Facebook, or here at the blog.
Last night I wrote for the first time since September 2012. That’s eight months of no writing. I was afraid I was going to hit a year. What writing I did back in September felt like pulling teeth, and I gave up until the feeling to write would come back.
I had no idea it would take eight months. Eight months of worrying why I wasn’t writing. Eight months of reading writer’s block buster articles. Eight months of reading research books about the location I thought I wanted to write about. Eight months of voicing frustrations to The Boy that I had lost my muse. Eight months of slight depression.
I tried to continue blogging, thinking writing non-fiction was better than not writing at all. But as you can tell by my pathetic archive, that only lasted a couple more months.
Last night I took the advice of a commenter and watched Shakespeare in Love for the first time. I was watching The Boy’s dogs while he met with his dance partner, having just gorged myself on homemade Chinese hot pot. The movie ended. I stared at my writing journal on my abandoned desk, which I had moved to my living room in the desperate attempt to remind myself to write.
That bright green cover with the bright blue ribbon filled with lined, unwritten pages no longer seemed so scary. I grabbed a pen and put it to paper. I wrote three pages, enough to be a decent first draft of a first chapter.
I don’t know if it’s still The Rebel’s Touch anymore. It’s not set in southern Ohio on the banks of the Ohio River. It’s in Columbus, my home city, on the banks of the Scioto. The main character has just discovered a dirty, emaciated man who just told her something that makes her think he escaped from Camp Chase, the Ohio prison for Confederates. Other than that, Abraham Lincoln has just died.
That’s really all I know. But it’s enough.
10 Irrational but Nonetheless Persistent Fears I’ve Picked Up from Reading Adult Historical Romances
- Apparently, I either have to be so beautiful everyone chases after me, or so unique no one knows what to do with me, in order to get anyone’s romantic attention.
- Because I’m fairly certain I’m neither of the above, I shall be forever alone.
- I will never be able to breathe properly around my love interest, either because of my unmentionables (damn corset) or because he looks so delicious I hyperventilate into a faint.
- When I fall in love it will be with someone who probably doesn’t deserve it.
- My romantic interest will have a rake’s past, and therefore, the sexual infections that come along with all those bed adventures.
- One or both of my parents will die before I meet my romantic interest, meaning I will doubt his interest in me over my inheritance (which, let’s be honest, will probably not be very much).
- When I catch my romantic interest’s gaze across the room, our gaze will burn so hot we might cause people to spontaneously combust.
- I will want to have sexy time with him every time I see him. This will prove to be inconvenient should I see him in church.
- My romantic interest will have a brooding past, which the books tell me is supposed to make him irresistible. I now fear for my sanity.
- The first time I have sexy time with my romantic interest, it will either be mind-blowingly good, or so bad I’m crippled.
What about you?
Slowly but surely, I work on the Atlanta & the Lion and Other Tales short story and poem anthology. I’ve been working on converting some contemporary stories I wrote in grad school over to historical romances and/or fiction, since I am much more comfortable with that genre. Here is a taste of one of the stories, called “The Friendly Suffragette.”
FIRST DRAFT OF THE FRIENDLY SUFFRAGETTE
“Why, you seem as though you could use a hug, sir,” Kate said, blinking at the old man shuffling past her makeshift wooden crate table covered with suffragette pamphlets.
Kate’s comment startled the old man and rightly so. One did not expect a young lady standing in a drab gray dress and straw hat at the corner of a largely abandoned city park in a London neighborhood to suddenly offer an embrace of any kind. Generally such offers were not of the respectable sort, of that the old man was certain.
He lifted the brim of his homburg hat to peer at Kate from behind his overlarge spectacles. Her eyes matched the fabric of her sensible, ankle-length dress; the color of a proper overcast English sky. Her thick auburn hair was restrained, hardly, by a low chignon at the base of her neck. Her flat straw hat was perched at the crown of her head, making her seem both cheeky and charming.
Kate watched the old man with a bright smile. As he stared agape at her she was thinking he was the mirror image of her grandfather, dearly and recently departed, complete with the dusty overcoat and tarnished pocket watch.
“I beg your pardon,” the old man said finally, his tone gruff and unwelcoming over the din of horse-drawn cabs, streetcars, and people too busy with their own business to stop and chat with Kate.
“My grandpapa would always say everyone needs a hug now and then, and it seems as though your turn is now, sir. Would you care to have one?” Kate’s tone made it sound as if she were offering him an apple perhaps, or a slice of toast, rather than such an indecent display of shared affection—and in public, of all things.
“A hug?” the old man asked, his wheeze punctuating his outrage as he shifted his spectacles on his nose. His pale, clean-shaven cheeks colored and his jaw gyrated as if he were rearranging his teeth for the fun of it.
“Oh my, yes, a hug.” Kate opened her arms, the action revealing her to be thin, perhaps too thin, and unaided by the fashionable, distorting S-curve corsets of the time. Though she looked frail, she had a sense of sturdiness about her—something in the way her smile reached her eyes.
The old man noted she had three freckles on her cheek and a pale band of skin on her ungloved left hand, indicating a ring once protected the skin from what must have been healthy, countryside sunlight. Suddenly, the situation began to make rather more sense. The gray dress, indicating a season of mourning. The missing wedding band. The misplaced need to share some semblance of affection with a complete stranger.
“I think there aren’t enough hugs in this world,” Kate continued. “Perhaps if we all hugged one another more often, we’d see some smiles in this dull city!”
Dull, she said; the old man had certainly never heard of London described as “dull.”
“You’re American, I suppose?” he said, having made up his mind she was quite, quite mad.
Kate beamed. “Yes! However did you guess?”
The old man pressed his lips together, and then puckered them in thought. “Very well then,” he said, careful to note where his billfold was in the off-chance the mad American red-head happened to fleece him during their embrace. “I suppose we might hug. But this is very irregular, mind you!”
Kate laughed, a tinkling sound that invited a solitary ray of sunshine to peek through the London haze. “Not to worry, there’s a copper just over there who’s been watching me all morning, just waiting for me to do something incorrect. I promise you, I only want to give you a hug.”
Sure enough, when the old man glanced over his shoulder, there stood a young officer, most likely no older than thirty, standing with his arms crossed and his feet spread just further than hip-width apart. He looked none too pleased, with his face contorted in an annoyed grimace.
“He needs a hug, too, but he refuses, the silly man,” Kate said, shaking her head. She shrugged. “Now then, shall we hug?”
Like I said, this is a fun project. I’m realizing I dabble with absurdity and magical realism, so I’m interested to see how Kate’s hugs affect her suffragette campaign at her noisy little corner in London.
Every once in a while, I get into a major writing slump. I despair of ever putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard for my fiction because I am convinced I am the most unfortunate waste of authorial intent ever. EVER. This feeling can last anywhere from a day, to a couple of weeks, to an entire dreaded season. Sometimes, when the sun shines on a Sunday morning I wake up and remember I have a cure for this writerly depression.
Movies. And not just any movies. Movies about writing and writers. I have three favorite movies that I watch in succession that never fail to make me feel better. No, not just better, but excited to write. Excited about life and recording it in fiction, exploring the emotions and thoughts of these people who speak to me in my dreams and daydreams.
Stranger than Fiction
Because every writer has some sort of mania about their characters. I often dream about mine, and the idea that they can actually come to life, that they are walking around separate from me in time and space and physical-ness is just fun and inspiring.
Alex and Emma
Because it’s nice to have the reminder that you know what? Sometimes your readers don’t like your original idea, or character description, or ending. Take a moment, step back, find a good beta reader, and make changes.
You’ve Got Mail
Because the soundtrack is amazing, the characters are cute, there is witty dialogue, and when the movie is over you want to be typing with emphasis at your computer as if you were writing to the person with which you are falling in love.
And as a bonus, sometimes I like to throw Music and Lyrics in there too. Because it’s goofy, it emphasizes the importance of having outside influence on your creative inception, and Drew Barrymore is adorable.
As a quick reminder, you might be interested in the promotions below.
The audiobook version of Haunting Miss Trentwood will be discounted from $19.95 to $5.95 (even less to audible.com members) Saturday August 25 to Sunday September 2.
The newly released behind-the-scenes chapter called The Seance from Haunting Miss Trentwood is free on Kindle today, Tuesday August 28. Please leave a review on Amazon, it would be so appreciated!
When I first typed the title to this blog post, a Freudian slip occurred and I typed “touch” rather than “tough.” Seems to me both are accurate when it comes to romance, heh. Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately about how people make decisions, and why.
The fact is, romance is a tough decision for some people. “Timing is everything,” I always hear people say. But romance is so more than just timing. Romance is about personalities, wants, needs, desires. Conversation. Physical attractiveness. Mental and emotional attractiveness. Financial compatibility. Family traditions, cultures, expectations. Friends.
Romance, or rather, a meaningful romantic relationship, is a tough decision when you consider all these factors! Yet, people date all the time. People find someone to date, to spend time with, to hang out with friends. People break up with, cheat on, abuse and take advantage of those they date as well.
Way to be a Debbie Downer, Belinda
Those aren’t the relationships I like to write about. Part of the reason why I write (young adult) quirky Victorian romances is because the culture is more accessible to me, from a relationship-longevity standpoint.
Don’t get me wrong, just because people stayed married (legally-speaking) for decades only to be truly separated by death, doesn’t mean they didn’t have problems. Well-born Victorian men were notorious for cheating on their wives because they were told it was their nature, they were expected to have a mistress. On the other hand, Victorian women were fed the bull that they were the reason society was as civilized as it was; that the men who courted them would treasure them and therefore they should do their best to give him a wonderful home. Sounds like Mad Men a little, doesn’t it?
I’m stereotyping and simplifying, of course.
Then why write about Victorian romance at all?
The fact is that despite these factors, I choose to write quirky Victorian fiction because I’m allowed to fantasize about a time when men and women made commitments to one another that were meant to surpass time and aging and death and famine and cheating all that. My idealist teenage-reader-mind soaked up Louisa May Alcott, LM Montgomery, Janette Oke, Jean Ferris, Ann Rinaldi, Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell… these classic women wrote about heroes who took time to get to know their heroines and determine they were a match.
Not just financially (thank you, dowries), but emotionally, personally, familial…ly… The motivations behind the romances in my books are people are looking for a match. Not a perfect one, for sure, no one is perfect. Even the phrase “don’t look for someone perfect, look for someone perfect for you” implies this person is imperfect and these imperfections may, one day, make you want to throw a vase at him. But there is something fun and magical in reading a story about two people who just might have finally met each other and recognized kindred spirits. It’s something I hope for my friends, family, and myself.
So romance is a tough decision, right? But with the right person, things align. And in a perfect world (that is, fiction), we get to relive those moments over and over again.
For those of you who haven’t yet read Catching the Rose or Haunting Miss Trentwood to see just how I write about meaningful romance, you might be interested in the promotions below.
The audiobook version of Haunting Miss Trentwood will be discounted from $19.95 to $5.95 (even less to audible.com members) Saturday August 25 to Sunday September 2.
The newly released behind-the-scenes chapter called The Seance from Haunting Miss Trentwood will be free on Kindle Monday August 27 to Tuesday August 28.
As I’ve been working on The Rebel’s Touch and Atlanta & the Lion and Other Tales, I’ve begun to notice a pattern: I tend to write about young-ish women who have lost a male authority figure in their lives. I did the same thing with Catching the Rose and Haunting Miss Trentwood. The fact is, the topic fascinates me.
You see, my father has played a huge role in shaping my life. For the longest time, his morals were my morals. His rules were my rules. His ideas about relationships were my ideas about relationships. To think of a life not shaped by my father, or any male authority figure, boggles my mind. I explored the idea of what happens when a girl doesn’t have a father to protect her from an arranged marriage she doesn’t want; how does she take care of herself when her mother can’t help her (Catching the Rose)? I explored the idea of what happens to a girl whose father had shaped her daily existence due to his illness but when he finally succumbs she has to pick up the pieces and start living her own life (Haunting Miss Trentwood).
The short story I’m reworking for Atlanta & the Lion is unnamed as yet; it might be called “The Friendly Suffragette,” or “Killing with Kindness,” or “A Smile with Arms.” The heroine has lost her grandfather, and she has joined the suffragette movement as a way to fill her days. The tactics of the other women don’t seem to be making headway, so, she tries something radical: she offers hugs to those who need them.
First off, as an aside, can I tell you how frustrating it can be, writing historical fiction, sometimes? I was halfway through writing the story when I realized I didn’t know if the word “hug” was something someone would say around 1913. Thanks to the internet, I now know the word “hug” was first used to mean “affectionate embrace” as early as the 1650′s. So phew.
I’ve had a couple people comment that Haunting Miss Trentwood is unsettling because it’s about a father dying and haunting his daughter. Totally understandable. The beginning of the book is a true gothic tale but it descends into silliness fairly quickly once Mr Trentwood starts quipping his one liners. I learned from that book to establish the level of silliness as soon as possible so the reader knows what to expect.
In The Rebel’s Touch, I keep paring back the plot. First, it was to be about the Underground Railroad. The heroine, Tempest Gray, was to have stumbled onto a group of slaves and their guide at the shore of the Ohio River. She gets kidnapped, and discovers that the man who kidnapped her has no memory… but when he touches her, he remembers something. Throw in a greedy father and mother who want to marry her off to the local rich man who has access to food stores despite the blockade on the Confederacy, and you have one convoluted, confused mess of a book.
The Rebel’s Touch is no longer about the Underground Railroad. A shame, because I bought a bunch of books on the topic and am now somewhat of an amateur historian in regards to Ripley, OH and its Underground Railroad celebrities. The book is now set somewhere in Kentucky, Lexington, I’m guessing, because I will be there this fall and so will have access to their libraries and historians if I can plan everything properly. It’s still about a girl who finds a man without a memory… but in the days after the Civil War, and thus is a story about the American Restoration. As always, I’m beginning my journey with this book by hunting and gathering images to inspire me, which you can follow on Pinterest.
The first sentence goes something like this:
Everyone else remembered it as the day the president died, but Tempest Gray remembered it as the day the man with no memory fell from her tree.
Looking forward to the restart of this adventure. Not sure where the father-daughter relationship will come to play, but since the theme has emerged in my other works, I expect it will manifest soon.