Tag Archives: transporting readers in time and place

The Importance of Warts

10 Tuesday Sep 2019

Posted by in Guest Posts, Researching historical fiction, writing historical fiction

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Elizabeth Bell and I met at HNS 2019. She is the author of the Lazare Family Saga, the result of a quarter century of research and revision. I’m delighted to host her on the blog today. Over to you, Elizabeth.

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After moving from Colorado to Virginia, I happily began visiting my new state’s many historic houses and museums. Yet this history buff found herself reluctant to visit Colonial Williamsburg. I had mistaken it for a Disneyland version of my nation’s past.

Fortunately, I was wrong. Colonial Williamsburg programming portrays American history in all its diversity and complexity while also catering to tourists. You can choose to take a carriage ride down the restored Duke of Gloucester Street or follow a costumed tour guide on foot. My tour guide directed us around a manure pile freshly deposited by a carriage horse and warned: “Be careful you don’t step in the authenticity!”

That’s great advice for the streets of Colonial Williamsburg. It’s terrible advice for historical novelists. While admiring all the lovely clothing and architecture of the past, we should be tramping around in authenticity and inviting our readers to join us.

We might actually mention the manure our characters pass by or stumble into—the unpleasant sights and smells that make up their world. But it’s even more important that we don’t sanitize our characters’ thoughts and actions. Our protagonists shouldn’t be dropped in from the 21stcentury.

This is especially true for the main setting of my series, the slaveholding American South, which has been portrayed as “moonlight and magnolias” for over a century. It is reprehensible to romanticize a society in which human beings were bought and sold. But it’s also irresponsible if all the good characters in our fictional American South know instinctively that slavery is wrong. In these characters’ world, slavery was normal, defended in the papers and from the pulpits as a positive good. “My protagonist is enlightened and ahead of her time” is dramatically dull and teaches us nothing.

Instead, I prefer to explore how the lies have been drummed into my protagonist. Early on, he’s regurgitating those lies. This runs the risk of making him unsympathetic to a modern audience, but it’s essential that he possess a true 19th-century psyche. His conscience will begin to trouble him, and this will be part of his character arc, but he won’t become “woke” overnight. Another point-of-view character, my protagonist’s great-grandmother, remains an unrepentant racist till the day she dies. She’s not supposed to be sympathetic, but she is supposed to be human.

In real life, I faint at the sight of blood. In my fiction, the Haitian Revolution changes the destiny of my fictional family. Most of the violence happens “off stage.” Yet readers have called my Haitian chapters “intense”: “You don’t pull any punches.” It would be dishonest to depict one of the bloodiest and most sadistic wars in human history without any gore.

Similarly, an agent rejected my novel because she “found the descriptions of how they treated slaves painful to read.” Did she expect reading about slavery to be fun? I infuse my fiction with as much humor and happiness as I can, but I refuse to sugarcoat slavery. I want my readers to feel everything my characters do, including the painful parts.

One of my favorite comments from my editor is that my series “really feels like a fully formed, accurate, compelling world, warts and all.” Only when I’d given my protagonist a birthmark—which is incidental to the story—did he begin to feel real to me. Only when I realized my 19th-century heroine would have hairy armpits did she begin to live and breathe. By revealing the past in all its ugliness or simply quirkiness, especially those aspects that make it distinct from the present day, we make our stories both more authentic and more memorable.

As historical novelists, we are tour guides and teachers. Like the tourists who visit Colonial Williamsburg, many of our readers will never crack open a history book. Consciously or unconsciously, our readers will take our portrayal of the past as Truth. We do them an enormous disservice if we’ve whitewashed that truth. We’ll have given our readers a pleasant fantasy, but we will have taught them nothing. If we don’t make our readers think, if we don’t make them at least a little uncomfortable, we’re not doing our jobs.

Great advice, Elizabeth. Many thanks for sharing your thoughts.

Necessary Sins by Elizabeth Bell ~~ In antebellum Charleston, a Catholic priest grapples with doubt, his family’s secret African ancestry, and his love for a slave owner’s wife.

Joseph Lazare and his two sisters grow up believing their black hair and olive skin come from a Spanish grandmother—until the summer they learn she was an African slave. While his sisters make very different choices, Joseph struggles to transcend the flesh by becoming a celibate priest.

Then young Father Joseph meets Tessa Conley, a devout Irish immigrant who shares his passions for music and botany. Joseph must conceal his true feelings as Tessa marries another man—a plantation owner who treats her like property. Acting on their love for each other will ruin Joseph and Tessa in this world and damn them in the next. Or will it?

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION  FOLLOW A WRITER OF HISTORY

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.

Transported to Hedy Lamarr’s Time and Place

15 Tuesday Jan 2019

Posted by in Historical Fiction, Transported

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Beautiful Invention is Margaret Porter’s 13th novel. It features the story of Hedy Lamarr, famous Hollywood actress and co-inventor of a radio guidance system for Allied torpedoes. How’s that for talent? I asked Margaret to tell us about Hedy’s world and how she incorporated it into the story. Over to you, Margaret.

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Any author writing the past strives to depict long-ago time and people so believably and viscerally that the reader is immersed. With Beautiful Invention: A Novel of Hedy Lamarr, I present a character who is both obscure and well-known, depending on whether a person is a fan of classic cinema from Hollywood’s Golden Age, or perhaps viewed the recent documentary Bombshell, or possesses knowledge of female inventors in general and the fact that Hedy is responsible for frequency-hopping and spread-spectrum technology specifically. What motivates a fan of historical fiction to read a novel about Hedy? Is it curiosity about her life as a film star? Interest in her abilities as inventor? Or simply random selection from Amazon or a bookstore shelf?

Whatever the reader’s impetus for choosing Beautiful Invention, I was responsible for re-creating my heroine’s experiences, adventures, and conflicts—of which there were a multitude, far more than I could fit into three or four novels! I was also determined to fill in the gaps left open by her biographers, those who produced works in print and on film. Not only did I use primary research as a foundation, I relied on informed speculation, and most importantly, I used my imagination. Selectivity was key, but once those selections were made and the story was structured, I had to do the world-building. And in many respects, it was an unfamiliar world. My areas of study—since my teens—have chiefly been 17thand 18thcentury Britain and France. My research habits were formed long ago, as historian and as an actress in period plays, and my M.A. studies in cinema history were a useful foundation. Fearlessly I stepped into the 20thcentury to explore Austria and Hollywood in depth.

This is my 13th work of fiction, and Hedy by far is the most challenging character I’ve ever written. There are multiple reasons, more than I’ll take time to explain, but a significant one was writing from a single viewpoint. Being in Hedy’s head All the Time was a big change for me. In prior novels, I used two or three—and in the one before this, as many as four—viewpoint characters. For any given scene, I could pick and choose the person whose perspective best suited the action and represented the conflict. This time, I had nobody else to turn to. It’s Hedy’s story, her reality, all the way through. No single person accompanied her through the years 1932 to 1949, from Vienna to Hollywood. So I spent my days and nights asking myself, “What would Hedy think? How would Hedy react? What did Hedy know at a given time? How would Hedy feel about this?” Everything had to be filtered through that one and only individual.

To my joy and relief, one reviewer stated, “It seems to me (and I have read several Lamarr biographies) that this author nails down her personality very clearly; much more so than anything else I have seen.”

I accessed numerous memoirs, biographies, histories, and scholarly works that aligned with Hedy’s private and public personae. I could read just enough German to get by, and relied on Google Translate as a useful backup. The period after World War I and before Hitler’s annexation of Austria—the Anschluss—was one of transition and uncertainty and the rise of autocrats. Austria’s high society clung to its old ways—revering an aristocracy that wasn’t legally allowed to use hereditary titles. Vienna remained culturally focused, with its opera balls, concerts, and theatres. At the same time, modernism was on the rise, with avant-gardeplaywrights and musicians and writers and artists coming to the fore. Post-war disarray and destruction fueled innovation. It was an exciting time to be a creative and ambitious young person, and the teenaged Hedwig Kiesler was very much a product of her between-the-wars generation.

The armchair and physical travel aspect of the novel was important—mentally or bodily I roamed from Vienna to Venice to Paris to London to the ocean liner S.S. Normandie to the Super Chief train to Hollywood. Even during Hedy’s lifetime, the places she knew changed considerably, but I located plenty of first-person and historical accounts that fell into the time span of my novel. Because Hedy was so unfamiliar with America and with Hollywood, my discoveries as researcher and writer were directly transferred and translated into her experiences as an immigrant actress.

In nearly every book I write, I find a way to do some historical myth busting. This one is no exception. Hedy’s newspapers and magazine interviews were numerous, and from each one I gleaned a powerful sense of her personality, her conflicts—personal and professional—and her aspirations. Hedy’s versions of her own history can’t necessarily be trusted, because she told different versions of the same story. And MGM was famous—or infamous—for recreating life stories for their stars. Hedy allowed publication of her memoir, Ecstasy and Me, which she later repudiated for its salaciousness and lack of truth, and she sued her collaborators. And though I discarded many incidents as unlikely, her voice and her thoughts were evident. As were her opinions of her husbands and of studio mogul L.B. Mayer and of her fellow performers—Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable and James Stewart.

Additionally, I was able to draw on my own past—my professional work in theatre and film. I well remember examining costume sketches and standing like a statue for fittings, and the thrill of receiving visitors to my dressing room after a stage performance. And what it’s like to stand in a studio, waiting for the producer and the technicians to complete their tasks so I could begin mine. I certainly never achieved the fame of Hedy Lamarr, but in some ways our experiences aligned. That was sheer serendipity—always a welcome component.

On Hedy’s arrival at the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studio in 1937, she immediately discovers that her escape from a controlling Austrian husband and an encroaching German dictator hasn’t conveyed the independence she sought.

Behind an enormous white curved desk raised high on a plinth sat L.B. Mayer. Four white phones were lined up beside him. Everything else in this bastion of power was white—the carpeting, the textured walls, even the piano.

“Do sit down,” he invited her. “We spared no expense getting you here, so you should’ve had an easy journey.”

“It was long.” Unsure what to do with her roses, she placed them in her lap.

“The food on those trains is good, they say, but I hope you didn’t eat too much of it. We need to slim you down before putting you in front of the camera, because the lens adds pounds to a woman’s figure. Ida can give you a diet sheet.”

At that moment she was experiencing intense hunger, and the prospect of limiting her meals sounded like a punishment.

Howard Strickling joined them, bending to kiss her cheek. He sat down beside her.

“As we’ve discussed, you’ll be having English and diction lessons,” Mayer continued. “You’ll enroll in an exercise class. Might as well have dance lessons, too. As soon as possible, you should get a Hollywood agent. Have you read the morals clause in your contract?”

“Yes.”

“We make clean pictures. We want clean actors. It’s important that you do nothing to undermine our efforts on your behalf. Right, Howard?”

“That’s right, L.B. Unless somebody from my department is with you, Hedy, don’t speak to reporters or columnists, or have your photo taken.”

“I won’t.”

“When we’ve created your biography, we’ll assign a p-publicist,” Howard said.

“Am I not to make the biography? It’s my life.”

The two men exchanged glances. “When introducing a newcomer to the p-public,” Howard said, “all the information must be favorable. In your case, we need to explain why you’ve left your husband and your country.”

“To make movies.” It was too obvious to require explanation.

“True. But a p-publicity campaign requires considerable finesse.”

“I won’t tell lies.”

“You’ll shade the truth, just a little. We’ll tell you what not to say. It’s in your own best interest.”

“You may come and see me,” Mayer added, “whenever you have concerns or questions. And if there’s a serious problem, Howard will fix it.” He shoved a stack of papers across the gleaming white desktop. “Your contract. Here, use my pen. It’ll bring you luck.”

The typed words ran together, clause after clause after clause, all in English. Printed beneath the blank lines on the last page was her legal name, Hedwig Kiesler Mandl.

She signed, instantly altering her status from refugee to employee.

 

Beautiful Invention: A Novel of Hedy Lamarr by Margaret Porter – Hollywood Beauty. Brilliant inventor. The incredible story of a remarkable and misunderstood woman. Hedy Kiesler, Austrian actress of Jewish heritage, scandalizes Europe with her nudity in the art film Ecstasy. Her hasty marriage to a wealthy munitions merchant disintegrates as he grows increasingly controlling and possessive. Even worse—he supplies deadly weapons to Hitler’s regime.She flees husband and homeland for Hollywood, where Louis B. Mayer transforms her into Hedy Lamarr, an icon of exotic glamour. Professional success clashes with her personal life as marriage and motherhood compete with the demands of studio and stardom. Motivated by the atrocities of World War II, Hedy secretly invents a new technology intended for her adopted country’s defense—and unexpectedly changes the world.

Many thanks, Margaret. Beautiful Invention has all the right ingredients for success. And how fortunate to have background as an actress! I’m sure readers will love the story.

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION FOLLOW A WRITER OF HISTORY (using the widget on the left sidebar)

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.

 

Overcoming the Fear of “Time and Place” in Writing Historical Fiction

11 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by in Guest Posts, Transported

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Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard‘s first love was music. As a vocalist, flutist and songwriter, she toured for nearly a decade playing and signing rock, pop and jazz before trading her microphone for a pen. Her latest novel is Temptation Rag and she’s on the blog today talking about transporting readers in time and place. Welcome, Elizabeth.

Overcoming the Fear of “Time and Place” in Writing Historical Fiction by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

There are few things as gratifying to a writer of historical fiction as when readers say that a book transported them to another time and place. A novel’s setting is not just something physical; it is intrinsically tied to the deeper meanings of a story. The details of setting can be used to mirror certain thematic elements of a book so that its message resonates on multiple levels. But those of us who write in the historical fiction genre know that, however masterfully such effects are ultimately achieved, the research that makes it all possible is fraught with danger. Some of us may even suffer occasionally from the malady known as “imposter syndrome,” the feeling that our deficiencies—not as writers but as researchers—will inevitably be exposed. The fear that someone “out there” who reads your novel knows more than you do about the period in which the story takes place is not irrational; it is unquestionably valid. Even authors who are excellent researchers usually are not “scholars” in the subject matter about which they are writing. Yet if one wishes to write historical fiction, being intimidated by the possibility of making a mistake is not an option.

Most of the action in my first novel, THE BEAUTY DOCTOR, was set in New York City in 1907. The book was my debut novel, and I was petrified that I would step on some kind of historical landmine that would irrevocably damage my credibility. As the former Executive Editor of Aesthetic Surgery Journal, I was very confident about my historical and technical knowledge of plastic surgery, which is central to the book’s “medical thriller” plot. But as for all the other details of life in the Edwardian era . . . well, I knew the historical landscape to which I was a newcomer was littered with traps. I almost fell into a big one. The error that nearly made it into print was classically dumb. I had written a scene in which my heroine, Abigail Platford, needed to contact someone overseas and did so by telephone. I knew from my research that telephones were not uncommon in New York at that time, that you used an operator to place calls, even that phone numbers contained only five digits. Fortunately, near the end of my revisions, I thought to double-check when the first transatlantic phone call was placed. Not for another twenty years!

I successfully dodged that bullet.

I love the Edwardian era and, of course, devoted myself to researching all the obscure details of everyday life that were relevant to my story. Were there street lamps in New York City? Gas or electric? How long would it take to drive from Manhattan to Scarsdale, New York in a Ford Model R? How many different outfits would a lady of leisure wear during the course of a single day of entertaining guests at her country estate? Which of her complicated undergarments would need to be removed first by an ardent lover in the heat of passion. Such details take an immense amount of time to investigate and can sometimes interfere with a writer’s creative flow. The efficient writer, I suppose, would worry about filling in some of those pesky blanks at a later stage in the writing process. I have a hard time doing that, as I dislike the thought of proceeding with too many loose ends hanging. As a result, I often find myself off on a tangent, tracking down some sort of historical minutiae in the middle of writing a critical scene. I become like a bloodhound on a scent. How exciting it is, though, when one finally moves in for the capture, rooting out that tiny little factoid that, once inserted into the scene, imparts to the setting an enhanced flavor of authenticity.

How much license with time and place can, or should, be taken by an author? Many authors bend timelines and even locations of known historical events to suit their story. I did so to some extent in my second historical novel, TEMPTATION RAG, a book that covers a span of more than thirty years. When the action occurs over such a long period and involves so many real-life characters who weren’t always in the same place at the same time, it can be nearly impossible not to fudge a little bit on the who, what, when and where. Writers who do this often offer lengthy explanations in their end-of-the-book notes, detailing how and why they made such alterations. I don’t like to overdo footnotes, but an author should acknowledge if significant history has been altered. As far as the portrayal of historical figures, some writers feel uncomfortable unless they are borrowing from the person’s actual spoken or written words. I prefer to fashion my real-life characters based on research plus a great deal of intuition.

I love to hear from readers who say they learned something new from reading one of my novels. In the case of THE BEAUTY DOCTOR, most people are amazed to learn that cosmetic surgery was being performed as early as the 1890s. They love the historical detail about how so-called “beauty doctors” chiseled noses, pinned back ears, and injected paraffin (yes, paraffin!) into wrinkles. In TEMPTATION RAG, it was great fun to recreate the bawdy spectacle of a ragtime piano contest, many of which were staged sort of like boxing matches. In my view, historical fiction has a power to envelope readers in a total experience of the senses in a way that may be unmatched by any other literary genre. Whether seen through the eyes of a narrator or the novel’s unique characters, a vivid rendering of time and place is the glue that holds your story together, gives it substance, and makes it truly memorable.  As a writer of historical fiction, one must tackle the challenge of time and place with a determination not to be shaken by the sheer magnitude of all there is to learn and, importantly, with a real love for the process.

Excerpt from TEMPTATION RAG: A NOVEL by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard      

Arriving at the ballroom, Mike paused in the doorway while he struggled to regain his equilibrium. An army of liveried footmen hustled among the hundred or more guests, balancing silver trays with champagne flutes filled to the brim. Mustachioed men suited in black and white, clever power brokers and those lucky enough to be living off the cleverness of generations past, animated their conversations with the nodding of heads and polite laughter. Their wives, resplendent in silks, satins, and lace, fluttered their painted fans nearly as fast as their tongues. Off to one side, the younger women without escorts huddled together anxiously while the young men by whom they hoped to be approached, for a dance or possibly more, gave final consideration to the most advantageous pairing.

He finally spotted Isabelle Convery at the far edge of the crowd, gaily holding court with several distinguished-looking gentlemen. Even in his agitated state of mind, he couldn’t help the fleeting thought that Mrs. Convery was, indeed, very attractive. Her beauty had a harder edge than her daughter’s—high cheekbones, a slightly Romanesque nose, raven hair. Bedecked in an elaborate gown of apricot-colored silk brocade, satin, and chiffon, with a puffy train that spread out in back like the plumage of some rare species of bird, she would have been the center of attention even at an event that was not her own.

Brushing aside a footman who rushed over with a look of eager servitude, he took off across the floor. As he approached Mrs. Convery, she turned away from her companions, obviously with no intention of introducing him.

“Mr. Bernard,” she said imperiously.

He leaned close, speaking in a confidential whisper, his heart galloping in his chest. “Good evening, Mrs. Convery. I’m terribly sorry to be late. I hope I haven’t kept you and your guests waiting too long. But if you’re ready for me, I can—”

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” she interrupted, gazing toward the north end of the ballroom, where a forty-piece orchestra was assembled, silently standing by. A grand piano, bathed in the warm glow of a dozen footlights, filled a small stage just to the right.

“Pardon?”

She turned back with a triumphant smile. “Edward MacDowell! And he’s agreed to play for us. Can you imagine?”

Mike’s stomach plunged, along with his hope. Edward MacDowell! Everyone knew that the American pianist and composer was currently the toast of New York after having been favorably compared to Brahms by Henry Krehbiel, the city’s most influential music critic.

Mrs. Convery’s eyes swept over him. She took a step back. “Why, you’re sweaty as a field hand. Go upstairs to the gentlemen’s lounge and clean yourself up. I’ll send someone for you later—if we need you.”

She turned away and, assuming a beatific smile, began her promenade toward the new guest of honor. Mike was barely able to keep himself in check so desperately did he want to grab her, shake her until she admitted that it was all a terrible mistake. Of course, she needed him—he would play for them now, this very minute. Edward MacDowell could wait.

But all he could do was watch as MacDowell, an intense-looking man with a thick black mustache, waxed and twirled at the ends, waited next to the piano, beaming with confidence. A few seconds later, Isabelle Convery joined him. They embraced to enthusiastic applause.

Mike felt as if he were standing alone on the bow of a sinking ship. The ballroom was a sickening blur of blinding lights, scraping voices, gaping mouths. A hostile territory into which he had mistakenly wandered and from which now he must escape or die.

Keeping his head down, he navigated to one of the open doorways and slipped out, passing through the candlelit reception hall and into the vaulted foyer. He thought of his silk top hat and his expensive new cloak hanging in the gentlemen’s lounge upstairs. He wasn’t about to go after them now, not with the chance of running into Teddy Livingstone.

On the verge of tears, he hurried toward the door. One of the attendants opened it for him with a smile.

“Have a wonderful evening, sir.”

Many thanks for sharing your perspective, Elizabeth. Your post definitely resonates with my experiences. You can find Elizabeth at www.EHBernard.com and on Facebook at https://facebook.com/EHBernardAuthor.

Temptation Rag by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

Seventeen-year-old May Convery, unhappy with her privileged life in turn-of-the-century New York City, dreams of becoming a poet. When she meets the talented young Mike Bernard, an aspiring concert pianist, she immediately falls in love. But after their secret liaison is discovered, neither is prepared for the far-reaching consequences that will haunt them for decades. As Mike abandons serious music to ruthlessly defend his hard-won title, Ragtime King of the World, May struggles to find her voice as an artist and a woman. It is not until years after their youthful romance, when they cross paths again, that they must finally confront the truth about themselves and each other. But is it too late? The world of ragtime is the backdrop for a remarkable story about the price of freedom, the longing for immortality, and the human need to find forgiveness. From vaudeville’s greatest stars to the geniuses of early African American musical theater, an unforgettable cast of real-life characters populates this richly fictionalized historical saga.

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION FOLLOW A WRITER OF HISTORY (using the widget on the left sidebar)

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.