Historical Fiction writing is a new genre for me. It is a journey I embarked on nearly five years ago. Although the story draft was written in a few weeks, I continually picked it apart as I researched every detail. Each time I was ready to celebrate a finished final draft, I’d discover something else, and more revisions were needed. For instance, during my recent visit to the country in Africa, which is most closely aligned with a major part of my book. My descriptions of the landscape had primarily come from pictures and YouTube videos. But when I set foot in that area, my imagined geography paled in comparison to what I experienced. I returned home to rewrite an entire section.
Research takes time, and it is necessary to write an authentic account of the era in which your characters live. Most recently, while researching another aspect of the effects of the threat of war between Italy and Ethiopia, I discovered a small newspaper article (only a few words) that, in fact, was huge for my research and has somewhat changed the trajectory of a specific scene. I was so excited, and at this writing, I’m still excited enough to jump up and down!
The research process has helped me to become more patient with myself and my writing. Initially, I felt pressured by friends to hurry up and finish the book so they could read, and then I had to field the questions from their own impatience- wanting to know why I hadn’t finished the book. Yes, I’ve learned a lot along the way. Sometimes it’s best not to impose a timeline on yourself.
My story takes place during the Great Depression, with settings in Kansas and Ethiopia. Here’s an excerpt from my story. There are two protagonists: Nell and her husband, Beau.
Keeping secrets… we’ve all been there, done that, sometimes it works out, sometimes not.
“Beau was lost in thought, Aww…Nell… Thoughts of his wife tugged at him. Secrecy wasn’t his nature, but he savored a good surprise. He seldom had a reason to splurge on gifts for his wife. Now, he pictured her expression when he told her—what? The money would delight her, but l…”
Everyone has a story, and the things they possess often have stories behind them. I tried to write a scene into the story depicting this thought.
“The steady, loud ticking of the clock pressed on, its rhythm like a pulse mirroring her nerves. Unease crawled beneath Nell’s skin, making her hands tremble, and her heart flutter. She busied herself with light chores and dusted the sitting room. Every lamp, table, chair, and even the rug had a story.”
Stay tuned to follow as the story progresses.
