Picking up on Hints

One of my steps in revising the already partly revised first draft is to catch all the hints and suggestions for ideas to develop that linger in the text. These usually are ideas that could have been developed and taken the story in a different direction, or hints for clues to be planted or red herrings to be dragged through the next twenty scenes that were never used. They have all been rejected if not consciously then de facto. I catch them as I read through, and usually don't think about them again. In any story the options are many before we begin writing, but with each scene they are narrowed. 

In my current WIP, however, I've taken them more seriously as astute suggestions from my unconscious, and not to be ignored. As a result of thinking about them harder, I've solved some problems that I was lazily going to just read past (until the final draft, of course, one of my bad habits). Ginny Means, a social worker whose caseload focuses on teenage girls in foster homes, has already appeared in two short stories in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, with a third in the pipeline. The one hint I grappled with the hardest is the idea of giving Ginny a rescue dog.

In Below the Tree Line, Felicity O'Brien is given a rescue dog after she finds signs of someone getting too close to her barn and house late at night. Virtually every farm has a dog, and here was my main character, owner of a farm, without one. Writing one in was easy, and I enjoyed getting to know Shadow, a little black-haired mutt.

 

In my current WIP I thought the idea of a dog seemed too cliched, since the main character was a single woman who worked, so when I scribbled the line in the first few chapters that Ginny fostered dogs occasionally, I thought I'd just leave it like that. There wasn't really any reason to develop this, so I let it just sit there while I focused on the plot and other characters. 

 

As I kept going I had the usual plot holes to fill, motivations to figure out, and details about her life to clarify. In one instance the presence of a dog could be a crucial clue, and I thought about giving her one of her own. But that posed other issues. She needed to be someone who could roam late into the night without worrying about a dog in the back seat barking loudly at shadows or others in a passing car or walking along on a leash on the sidewalk. But Ginny also had to be seen as compassion outside of her work as well. The idea of the fostered dog reappeared, and once I began to look at this more seriously, I could see all sorts of possibilities for her character as well as another pivotal figure. 

 

I was slightly worried that I was creating another character who had to be seen in part as a villain who had some good qualities. He felt like a cliche and I wasn't sure how to deal with this. I didn't want it to be easy for the reader to dislike him, so somehow he had to be shown to be a decent guy. He got a dog, and Ginny was sympathetic. The foster dog was in.

 

When I talk about writing as a process of discovery I'm usually thinking about the personalities and quirks of specific figures in the story, their appearance and family relationships. I'm not thinking about dogs determining clues and character, but that's what happened in this WIP. Giving Ginny a foster dog to care for occasionally doesn't change other aspects of her life given in previously published short stories, and remains a feature I can use or not depending on the plot. Those hints and suggestions I usually eliminate have turned out to be important sign posts in this WIP and I'm reading them more carefully now. 

 

 

Graphomania?

Over the years I've subscribed to probably hundreds of websites, but only a few have survived my decluttering process. One of these is wordsmith.org, and its A.Word.A.Day. I enjoy the etymology of rarely used words, and especially of those that are arcane. But today's word caught my attention more than most. Graphomania isn't rare, but the description was a little different from what I expected. 

Image by Nile from Pixabay

The definition, "an obsessive inclination to write," seems obvious from the term's construction (graph + mania), but the description after that seemed less so. After describing Leonardo da Vinci's passion for filling thousands of pages in his notebooks, the editor added this:

 

Do you carry a notebook and pen with you at all times? Do you wake up in the middle of the night to write? 

 

And my first thought was, Doesn't everyone? I know the answer to that is no. I know not everyone carries a notebook or wakes up in the middle of the night to jot down a good idea for a story or a perfect line for a certain character. My desk is littered with scraps of paper for story ideas, scenes to add to my WIP, a pad of paper filled with notes that will remain with the printed ms after I'm truly finished, and stacks of notecards that I add to as I go along in the story. But does this mean I'm really a graphomaniac?

 

Once in a while I stop to wonder how it was that I knew as a teenager that writing was my life. I don't wonder too hard because I'm honest about this—beyond the question is the recognition that I felt early on the compulsion to write. I was never someone who "wanted" to write. I was someone who wrote, made up stories, reworked them, and wrote more. I sent them out and, sadly, they came back, but that didn't matter too much. I just wrote more and sent out more. I also learned early on to be careful about uninvited commentary from anyone, since most people think young ones should have a practical career in mind. I ignored them because I knew, beneath it all, writing was a compulsion and the wise response was to give in and work at it.

 

In India I often spent time with a British couple. The husband was an artist whose work, small sculptures, funded their annual trips to India and other countries. His wife asked me one day why I wrote. I was about to launch into some explanation about liking mysteries, or whatever, when I stopped and said, "It's a compulsion. I just have to." Her husband nodded and said, "Yes, exactly."

 

The reader who occasionally asks the writer why she does what she does probably wants to hear something grander than "It's a compulsion," but that is the truth. I would be miserable if I didn't write, and so would most of the other writers I know. So which is better? Graphomaniac or compulsive? I don't really like either one, so I'll just jot that question down in my notebook as something to think about. How about you? Do you have a preference?

 

Authenticity in Fiction

I've been thinking about the details used in historical novels to create a sense of time and place a sense of authenticity. The 1950s seems to be an increasingly popular period, but it is the period of my childhood so I look for the details that tell me this is in fact written by someone who understands the period and pulls out the just-right details. 

 

We lived near the ocean and much of my early life involved heading to the beach, sailing with my family, or hiking in the nearby woods. Just about anyone who could get to the water had some kind of boat, and sailing out of the harbor meant waving to a wide variety of ocean goers. Managing movement on the water is a great leveler—the fanciest boat in the world means nothing with a poor skipper. This is still true.

 

As children, we were outdoors most of the summer day, off riding on our bikes without much thought given to the kinds of dangers adults worry about today. As long as we were home by dinner time, no one seemed to care where we went. We walked or rode the bus to school; parents didn't drive us as a rule. 

 

Other details also seem to be missing. In a TV ad for something now forgotten, the female voice over said, "This generation has known nothing but war or the threat of war or talk of war." I'm not sure what the point was but it came on regularly. The other TV ads that were so common were for cigarettes. It may seem absurd but when I went for a checkup before getting married, my doctor actually said, if you're going to smoke try something bland like . . .  and he named a particular brand. Seems unreal now, but I remember the conversation well and only later learned that he smoked. Most historicals set in the 1950s select the TV shows as the authentic detail, but skip the ads and ignore the test patterns that ran after the station ended programming. A cousin visiting from New York City in the 1960s was shocked to find that Boston stations ended programming at 1:00 a.m. What was he going to do all night?

 

The story might be taking place in a small town or city, but the big events of the time touched everyone. The McCarthy hearings in 1953 and 1954 led to the well-known black lists but they also explain why some writers of nonfiction felt it necessary to include passages clarifying their opposition to Communism. I came across this in a nonfiction book on mental health. It's an oddity in American publications that I haven't encountered in any other period. McCarthy frightened a lot of people. The other background hum came from the Korean War, which is now mostly remembered through the movie and TV series MASH.

 

That decade also saw the widespread introduction of antibiotics. The 1950s have been called the golden age of antibiotic discovery, and up to half of all drugs commonly used today were discovered in that decade. Of course, our overuse of these drugs may have brought us back to the original problem—diseases with no treatment, but now with treatment ineffective because of growing drug resistance.

 

We may think technology is the defining feature of ages since the 1950s but I'd point to something else: the level of trust, which was taken for granted. We knew our neighbors and expected to be able to call on them when needed. A car accident brought sympathy and help rather than an automatic lawsuit. Pizza was a treat and not a regular one, and people rarely went out to dinner. And there was fewer of everything—fewer cars in the driveway, fewer clothes in the closet, fewer (many fewer) telephones in the house. But there were lots of jobs. Unemployment hovered between 2.7% and, briefly, 6.2%, the same rate as today when businesses are complaining about finding enough workers. We thought transistor radios and TV were amazing. Except for Ray Bradbury and his colleagues, most of us couldn't imagine what was coming in the future.

What decades do you feel more familiar with? What features do you look for in an historical novel in that or any other time? What makes the story feel authentic?