Painting Museum-Quality Art with Words by Jodi Lea Stewart

Why is the journey through a historical novel so different from regular reading?

Because for that brief time, YOU ARE THERE!

In the 1950s and 1960s, CBS featured Walter Cronkite narrating a history series that teachers especially fell in love with. Dramatic presentations of historical events put the listener or viewer into the scene as it happened. Before becoming a television series, the programs were heard on the radio.

What made the series brilliant and endlessly interesting was how Cronkite gave a short introduction, an announcer gave the date and the event, and then that loud proclamation, “You are there!” was heard by the audience.

Wow!

Historical events such as signing the Constitution, Joan of Arc’s dilemma, the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire, the death of Cleopatra, famous fights, and legendary tragedies were dramatically reenacted.

Cronkite noted the type of day it was when the incident occurred, what else was going on in and around the famous happening, even what the weather was like. Thusly, he immersed the viewer in the tone and feeling of that particular time and event. He orally painted the picture for the audience.

Historical fiction writers paint more than pictures with their words

All writers must paint pictures with words, but historical writers have to paint museum-quality art with their words. They must depict the look, feel, smell, and concurrent events of the time era around their amazing plot. The more skillful the writer is in employing the five senses without bogging down the reader, the more successful he is at kidnapping the reader for an unforgettable journey into the past.

How do you do it? Make readers smell that apple pie cooling on a window ledge. Make them feel the rain spattering on the protagonist’s silk drop-shoulder hoop dress as she runs for shelter. Let them see the brilliant sunset beginning to bleed behind your main character as he tells his finance he is going off to war. Make readers hear that lonesome train's whistle as clouds of steam permeate the still, frosty night.

A fine line

There are joys and pitfalls to writing historical fiction. It's gloriously fun to delve into other time periods and share your findings along with your plot and characters. It can be so much fun, there is a tendency to overdo. Think about the stomachache you got from eating too much candy when you were a kid. Yikes! Too much of a good thing!

It's the same with overdoing historical facts and trivia as you write your story. It's a fine line. With so much relevant and irrelevant research the author uncovers while delving into a particular historical time and subject, he or she must not forget that the reader does not care about every detail of every piece of furniture, of every room, of every old car, of every battle, and so on. 

Don’t kill on-fire interest with trivia that pulls the reader off the main road and onto a hundred divergent trails. Use what you have garnered in research to flavor your story. Learn to “paint” a setting in a few words. Find clever ways to insert facts or feelings that work toward ushering readers into the world you are painting.

If the writer stays in the moment, so will the reader. Don’t go too crazy with details, keep the facts pure *or you’ll be found out*, and love every moment of creating something that will take readers to places they never dreamed they could go.

Then, YOU will be the one declaring, “You are there!”

***

http://jodileastewart.com/

Jodi Lea Stewart was born in Texas to an "Okie" mom and a Texan dad. Her younger years were spent in Texas and Oklahoma; hence, she knows all about biscuits and gravy, blackberry picking, chiggers, and snipe hunting. At the age of eight, she moved to a vast cattle ranch in the White Mountains of Arizona. As a teen, she left her studies at the University of Arizona in Tucson to move to San Francisco, where she learned about peace, love, and exactly what she DIDN'T want to do with her life. Since then, Jodi graduated summa cum laude with a BS in Business Management, raised three children, worked as an electro-mechanical drafter, penned humor columns for a college periodical, wrote regional western articles, and served as managing editor of a Fortune 500 corporate newsletter. 

She is the author of a contemporary trilogy set in the Navajo Nation featuring a Navajo protagonist, as well as two historical novels. Her most recent novels are Blackberry Road and The Accidental Road. She currently resides in Arizona with her husband, her delightful 90+-year-old mother, a crazy Standard poodle named Jazz, two rescue cats, and numerous gigantic, bossy houseplants.

1956 . . .

THE ACCIDENTAL ROAD

– Historical Fiction

It’s 1956, and teenager Kat and her mother escape an abusive situation only to stumble into the epicenter of crime peddlers invading Arizona and Nevada in the 1950s. Kat is a serious girl who buries herself in novels and movies and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible. Fading into the background is impossible, however, with a beautiful social butterfly of a mother who just happens to resemble Marilyn Monroe. It’s embarrassing, and the unwanted attention her mother garners could be the downfall of their plan to take Route 66 to the freedom of a new life.

Print and eBook available on Amazon.

1934 . . . 

BLACKBERRY ROAD

– Historical Fiction

Trouble sneaks in one Oklahoma afternoon in 1934 like an oily twister. A beloved neighbor is murdered, and a single piece of evidence sends the sheriff to arrest a black man that a sharecropper’s daughter knows is innocent. Hauntingly terrifying sounds seeping from the woods lead Biddy into even deeper mysteries and despair and finally into the shocking truths of that fateful summer.

Audible, Print, and eBook available on Amazon, etc.

Bildungsroman (and a favor from readers) by Kaye Spencer #firestarpress #comingofage

Bildungsroman (pronounced: bill-doongz-roh-man)

A literary device of two German words: Bildung, which means ‘education’, and Roman, which means ‘novel’.

Hence, bildungsroman is a story that addresses the growing up and maturing years (formative years) of the main character. This genre has come to be known as a coming-of-age story.

The key aspects of a bildungsroman story are the young person’s psychological and spiritual development and moral education as he or she progresses through life’s challenges and obstacles to reach adulthood.

Originally in the 17^th century when these stories first appeared and through the 19^th century, the endings were more or less positive for the young hero or heroine. In the 20^th century, however, bildungsroman stories went down a path away from the generally happy and satisfying ending to a darker ending of resignation of what life has handed the protagonist or even with the death of the character.

 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote one of the earliest bildrungstoman novels.

image from Amazon.com

Whether with the traditional happy ending or the darker, more modern ending, bildungsroman is, at its core, the story of a sensitive youth, who searches for answers to his or her questions. Generally, these stories begin with a loss or tragedy that disturbs this young person emotionally and that event is usually followed by four story elements over the course of this character’s life.

• A journey – character embarks upon a physical and/or psychological/spiritual discovery
• A struggle for identity – character often pushes limits and boundaries
• A societal conflict – character struggles to conform, fit in, deal with authority
• A loss of innocence – death of someone close often creates resolution hand-in-hand with loss of innocence

This is a shamefully truncated list of better-known bildungsroman-themed novels and movies:

• Pride and Prejudice
• Jane Eyre
• Great Expectations
• David Copperfield

cover courtesy openlibrary.org

• Little Women
• Forrest Gump
• The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
• Gone with the Wind
• Catcher in the Rye

 

cover courtesy openlibrary.org

• A Separate Peace
• Dirty Dancing
• Almost Famous
• To Kill a Mockingbird
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower
• The Outsiders
• Johnny Tremain

cover courtesy openlibrary.org

• Harry Potter series
• Percy Jackson series
• American Graffiti
• The Breakfast Club
• Stand By Me
• The Lion King

cover courtesy openlibrary.org

Now, readers, I have a question and a favor.

Question: What are your favorite better-known bildungsroman-themed books and movies?

 

Favor: I’m looking for suggestions of lesser-known bildungsroman-themed books and movies. I particularly want those gems that are yet to be discovered and appreciated for the treasures they are. I’m fond of historical settings over contemporary, but I appreciate any and all suggestions.

Recommendations…?

Until next time,

Kaye Spencer

Stay in contact with Kaye—

Amazon Author Page | BookBub | Blog | Twitter | Pinterest | Facebook

Resources:

“Bildungsroman.” Literary Devices, definition and examples of literary terms. Bildungsroman definition. https://lilterarydevices.net/bildungsroman/. Accessed 23 Fe. 2020.

“Buildungsroman.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bildungsroman. Accessed 23 Feb. 2020.

“Bildungsroman, German Literary Genre.” Encyclopaedia Britanica. https://www.britannica.com/art/novel-of-manners. Accessed 23 Feb. 2020.

“Bildungsroman: What the Heck is That?” ProWritingAid.  https://prowritingaid.com/art/833/bildungsroman%3A-what-the-heck-is-that.aspx. Accessed 23 Feb. 2020.

Dear Reader, Love Author: Dear Reader, Love J. Arlene Culiner

Dear Reader, Love Author: Dear Reader, Love J. Arlene Culiner: Dear Reader… Today, I’m offering you Armchair Travel — and there’s nothing quite like it! No last-minute panic getting out to the ai...

The Book Tour Episode Thirteen: The Ex-Husband

             

           “I ast my granddaughter out t’ dinner. She’s only three,” says the dumpy woman in the coffee shop.

            “That din cost you a lot,” scoffs her equally dumpy friend.

            “Did. I bought her 30 dollars worth of toys. Have to do something for the poor kid. You know, my daughter, she jus’ reads all day. Yesterday she did 250 pages. I tell her, can’t you do something? Like, clean the place up. Wash the floor or somethin’. She’ll lay there and jus kina…” The woman raises her hands in defeat. Her friend shakes her head with commiseration.

            Me? I’m rooting for the unknown daughter. I wish her many wonderful books.

***

I’ve given book talks in Sausalito, San Bruno, and Santa Rosa, and now, with free time before the next talk in Oklahoma City, I can go where I please. And since this is Episode Thirteen, why not head down the California coast to LA, for a meeting with an ex-husband, DT.

DT and I had been married back in poor student days, when we’d stolen Brussels sprouts from the surrounding fields, but couldn’t afford the butter to put on them. Nowadays, he was a Hollywood big shot. I last saw him in 1981, when I came to LA to visit my friend Nancy. DT invited us out to dinner — he wanted to show me he could now afford the best, and that, in a restaurant frequented only by the rich and famous, everyone knew who he was. He also liked being seen with a woman on each arm, and Nancy, half Mexican, half Swedish, was gorgeous.

After dinner, we all went back to his house for a nightcap — his present lady friend was away, in Phoenix, on business, but she’d left messages on the answering machine (this was in the days before cell phones). The first was cutsie-wootsie: ‘Hi Honey, Why can’t I reach you? Call me when you get home.” The fourth was edgy. The eighth was hysterical. “Where the hell are you, you shit!”

“She’s a bit possessive,” said DT with a meek grin.

The last, frankly menacing: “I’ll kill you, you lousy bastard. I know what you’re up to.

DT looked slightly embarrassed as he poured out wine for the three of us…wine that we never did get to taste. For, no sooner had we all settled, glass in hand, than we heard a wild shriek, frightening, unworldly. And before our astonished eyes, a fury hurtled into the room brandishing a large butcher knife.

Fortunately, DT was stronger than she, or we’d all have ended up as luncheon kebab.

***

Their romance hadn’t survived, and DT had been living in a trendy residential hotel in Hollywood for twenty years. Since he’d be at work when I arrived, he’d told the doorman to let me in.

But as soon as that venerable gatekeeper catches sight of me, he’s immediately suspicious: how could a big shot like DT have been married to this creature with long grey hair, wearing a shabby winter jacket and lugging an unwieldy old backpack? Come on! He won’t even let me wait in the public area just past the front door, a nirvana-like area of palm trees and tropical plants around a swimming pool.

I don’t mind — I’m just amused and not in the mood to argue. I ask if I can leave my jacket and backpack with him while I go walk around the city. Begrudgingly, he accepts. But at just that moment, DT arrives. So I end up sitting in the courtyard, after all, sipping something unidentifiable, delicious, and head-turning while the hotel staff comes to inspect me — goodness knows what DT has told them.

“He said you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen,” announces the maid, a tiny delightful Mexican woman named Maria.

“And now look at her,” say Maria and DT in unison. “She’s still beautiful.”

The doorman (obviously he can’t believe what he’s hearing) is looking only slightly less suspicious: I’m not a respectable ex-wife. He wants Yves Saint Laurent, a facelift, and diamonds, not walking boots, rumpled stretch jeans, and no make-up.

We all sit around chewing the fat for a while — it makes the reunion easier. The maid and maître d’ keep saying that they haven’t seen DT this happy in months, and we get on so well, why did we ever split up?

I could give them a few reasons, but don’t, and when the curious crowd finally departs, DT begins bragging about his life.

Once, many years ago, he’d been an investigative journalist who’d won prizes for his work, but that was before becoming a television CEO, then a writer: “I’m the best writer out here in Hollywood, and the best-paid one, too.” He names shows I’ve never heard of.

“I live in Europe, you know.”

“Sure, but you get American programs over there.”

“I don’t own a television. Never have.”

This makes him angry. “You always were a snob. Elitist. I always said that, and you haven’t changed.”

“Some things never do.”

“Anyway, I’m thinking of retiring, going down to live in Mexico or Costa Rica, spend the rest of my life fishing.”

What I’m seeing is a time-worn guy, diabetic, stiff, with a big belly. It’s clear that, despite the bragging, when he comes home from sitcom writing, he’s pretty depressed. How does he spend his evenings? Watching TV. “Shows, sometimes films like…” He names a few.

They mean nothing to me, but to keep the peace, I don’t mention I haven’t seen a movie in a quarter of a century.

During dinner, his talk is of wild parties long over, bad behavior in public places, being thrown out of bars with his raucous, wealthy, and famous friends, all people I’ve never heard of.

“You live down in some dark hole or something?”

No, just in a parallel world, but he shows no interest in me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be impressed; I’m the listener, the only wife he ever had, perhaps the woman he felt closest to in his life.

“I’m an old man now,” he repeats often, for having set his intellectual goals too low, he’s gone bankrupt. And he’s frightened. Suspects, perhaps, his “name is writ in water.” At least, with me listening, he is validated: I put him back in the picture.

***

“Enjoy the city,” says the doorman as I set out on foot the next morning, determined to see what the real world looks like. And…well…there must be people who love what’s out here, the commercial tat, the chance of seeing a star, the movie-based kitsch, but for me, it’s only roaring traffic, noise, loud music, squat buildings, and un-loveliness. I try to imagine what this area looked like long before humans arrived with their warfare, temporary alliances, rites, and destruction. When this was a marshy plain, and the many sheltered lagoons were home to birds and unfamiliar water creatures; or when wolves, mastodons, bison, mammoths, short-faced bears, horses, and camels nibbled vast grasslands. But it’s a hopeless struggle.

Everywhere is cement, rubbish, and an abysmal sky, thanks to cars, and nitrogen oxide emissions pumped out by oil refineries. Rising sea levels threaten coastal areas with flooding and erosion; the millions of people littering, spraying pesticides on their lawns, hosing off driveways, and cars are all contaminating run-off water; and the ocean, nearby creeks and rivers are bacteria-infested. Much of the plastic I see around me is completely unrecyclable — clamshell food packaging, black plastic trays, take-out containers, cold drink cups — and, these days, we can no longer ship it off to some faraway out-of-sight-out-of-mind exotic locale. Instead, in 2018, Los Angeles county alone sent more than half a million tons of plastic to four different landfills; another 20,000 tons of plastic went into its waste-to-energy incinerator.

 ***

“You could come back here to live,” says Maria a little sadly. “Take up where you left off. He’d be so happy if you did.”

But my bag is packed, and it’s with the springy steps of an escapee that I head for the bus station. I’m traveling east, on the lookout for the perfect place, the ideal community, the little paradise, the setting for a good story, although I know perfectly well such a place probably doesn’t exist.

On the bus, the Mexican on the seat beside mine is a dishwasher. “I’m perfecting my English,” he says in perfect English. What’s the book in his hand? Orestes?

I stare at him. “The play by Euripides?”

He laughs at my surprise. “All you need is to want to learn.”

More about my books and passionate life can be found at http://www.j-arleneculiner.com

and http://www:jill-culiner.com

and on my podcast at https://soundcloud.com/j-arlene-culiner

HOW I SPENT MY WINTER VACATION, by Mollie Hunt, Cat Writer

How do you picture your dream vacation? Fun in the sun? A writing retreat? Lots of great food? Maid service? No worries?

My recent trip to Cabo San Lucas was all those and more. Staying at an all-inclusive resort a ways out of Cabo, my husband and I had a suite right on the beach. From our room we could watch both the sunrise and the sunset. As an extra bonus, the Super Snow Moon made a showing during our stay as well.

Though Jim and I go to his timeshare in Mazatlán just about every year, this was my first experience with the all-inclusive plan. In Mazatlán, one of our favorite things to do is shop at the central market for fresh foods, then cook them in our room. Jim fishes on the beach and buys langoustines and shrimp from the fishermen. But the Cabo place was new to us, and a ways from town and shopping, so we decided to try something different.

It was fun not having to think about cooking (or cleaning up after) and one of the only times in my life I didn’t look at the prices. We enjoyed the many resort eateries. There was a bistro, a buffet, a Chinese and a Japanese restaurant. The Japanese outdoor place was my favorite, not only because of the great food, but it also had cats! A few friendly ferals popped in for a share of the bounty, and I was happy to give it to them. I didn’t see the sign saying not to feed the animals until after the deed was done.

We also enjoyed a fair share of room service, my guilty pleasure.  Getting breakfast delivered to our room facilitated the other favorite part of my holiday— working on my books. Ironically my story on takes place at the beach, but hundreds of miles north in the cold and rain of Washington state. Sitting on the warm, sunny balcony, it was sometimes difficult to put myself in the chill of those northern climes.

Writing, walking, smelling the flowers, eating way too much, sleeping in without having to feed and medicate cats— all those things made the past week a wonderful vacation. I’m glad to be back though. My cats missed me.

You can find more blogposts by Mollie Hunt, Cat Writer on her blogsite: www.lecatts.wordpress.com

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/MollieHuntCatWriter/

@MollieHuntCats

Sign up for Mollie’s Extremely Informal Newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/c0fOTn

New Release - Quest for the Light of Valmora (Legends of Winatuke Book 3) by Sarah J. McNeal

The evil witch-queen, Mahara, has returned to the Dark Isle after her exile, even more determined for revenge on those who have tried to thwart her evil plans—and that vengeance begins with capturing Raven McKnight!

Raven’s son, Falcon, has distanced himself from the family after the near-death of his younger brother, Peregrine, which he believes was his fault. But now, he must push his feelings aside and return to save his father and the entire realm of Winatuke. Falcon, filled with self-doubt, knows he’s not an exceptional warrior. On top of that, he’s falling for Izabelle, the beautiful Gypsy woman who is Peregrine’s love—and that, he cannot allow.

Izabelle quickly comes to understand that her heart’s desire is for Falcon’s love—not Peregrine’s—whose affection seems to be solely for his music and his violin. As the terrible meaning of the QUEST FOR THE LIGHT OF VALMORA reveals itself fully, the sacrifices that Izabelle and Falcon must make seem unimaginable, and likely, unattainable. Neither of them may survive. Can Izabelle bring the Light of Valmora in time to vanquish Mahara and her cruel vengeance?

With the witch-queen’s anger aimed directly at her old flame, Raven, Falcon understands the only way to save his father is to take his place. No matter the consequences to himself, it’s the only way to keep everyone he loves safe from Mahara’s vindictive punishment. But will Falcon be able to survive even one night in her demonic captivity?  

EXCERPT

     A mist crawled on phantom fingers along the forest floor as twilight threatened. Ebony trees, bereft of leaves, stood like soldiers that reached for heaven through the gloom. An unnatural silence fell upon the forest. Woodland creatures burrowed deep into the earth to seek comfort, their hearts fluttering with apprehension. A living cloud of birds darted across the darkening sky in an attempt to fly to the safety of some distant place where the light still held. Cicadas hushed their chatter and held themselves tight against the rough bark of the old oaks to become invisible. Not even the wind dared to breathe.

     A few thin clouds clung to the darkening sky as the pale moon rose from the horizon. Out of the breech of trees, a horse with glowing red eyes galloped and upon its back, a rider appeared clothed in a dark cloak, its face shrouded in the depths of the darkened hood. The specter approached with urgent speed, hooves thundered on the forest floor and scattered dead leaves in its wake. Close enough now, a face appeared in the bleak light of the sunset. Its skin, unnaturally white and bloodless, glowed in the faded light. Obsidian tendrils snaked out of the hood to ride in the wake of the wind created by the swift ride.

     Closer and closer she rode. Her soulless eyes filled with malice, glittered with death. Thin lips peeled back from her sharpened teeth as she croaked, "I'm coming for you and death to all who stand in my way." Upon the heels of her ominous threat, a hideous peel of laughter pierced the quiet while the shadows of night enveloped the Earth. The witch-queen of the Dark Isle rode with malignant purpose.

     Mahara!

    

The Joy of Editing

You’ve probably heard of The Joy of Cooking and The Joy of Sex.  I would much rather be doing either of those than editing.  But I currently find myself in the editing phase on three different writing projects.  I’m not sure how this happened - perhaps it was karma, coincidence, poor planning on my part, or maybe a little bit of each.  Since I’m relatively new to writing, I’m not a pro at the editing process.  In fact, I’m just the opposite.   

How I feel when I have to edit something.

I have heard many tips like, read things out of order, take a break and come back to it, change the font, read your work out loud, print it out, etc.  Even considering all of this, I have a hard time editing something I’ve written, myself, and seeing the work from an outside perspective.  

That’s why having someone who can provide editing assistance is a must.  Shawn Cosby, an amazing author I met at a Bouchercon last year, has said about the editing process, “Opening that first email with ‘Edits’ in the subject line was like defusing a bomb in an 80’s action flick.  Once I got through the first round of edits, I felt like I had survived a trial by fire.”  I’m not sure I would go that far, but almost.  Before my father passed away, he was my go-to guy for editing.  I always asked him to read my stuff, and begged him for suggestions and critiques.  He was very light-handed with his edits, however, and never provided much feedback.  Strange for a former college English professor and prolific writer.  I interpreted this as him not wanting hurt my feelings.  

Not so much with the professional editors I have worked with since then.  They tell it like it is, which I appreciate and it’s what they’re there for, but it can be hard to take.  It’s not that I think my writing is perfect or that it can’t be improved.  Far from it.  I know that it can be, and I’m happy to accept constructive criticism, although it helps if it’s provided gently.  And a few positive words sprinkled in with the negative can help ease the pain.  (Yes, I need to toughen up!)  The problem seems to be that once I’ve written something, I find it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to change.  Like it’s set in stone.  So I blame my fear and hatred of change.  Once I’ve written something, it’s hard for me to see it from a different angle, especially if it involves changing a story’s structure.  

I’m hoping the process will become easier the more I do it.  Do you edit your own writing, or do you find friends or professionals who help you?  Do you have any editing tips or tricks that work for you?  Tell me in the comments!

Angela Crider Neary is an attorney by day and writer by night. She is an avid mystery reader and especially enjoys reading novels set in interesting locales. She was inspired to write her first mystery novella, Li'l Tom and the Pussyfoot Detective Bureau: The Case of the Parrots Desaparecidos, by one of her favorite areas in San Francisco, Telegraph Hill.  Her second book, Li'l Tom and the Case of the New Year Dragon is now available.  To learn more, visit her on Facebook and Amazon.