A big congratulations to Laurie Alice Eakes, whose historical romance with strong suspense elements sold to Baker/Revell.
One midwife, two beaux, three men capable of starting a war.
Way to go, Laurie Alice! J
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Another Sale for Laurie Alice Eakes
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Dialogue Tags and Action Beats: Punctuation and Capitalization
For some writers, punctuation and capitalization comes naturally; for others, not so much. You know who you are. ;-)
Luckily, there are some simple guidelines we can follow to make sure the punctuation and capitalization of our dialogue tags are appropriate.
When a dialogue tag is not a complete sentence, its first letter doesn’t need to be capitalized, even when the preceding punctuation is not a comma. I think the non-comma punctuation is what throws many people for a loop.
Rule of thumb: A complete sentence should begin with a capital letter.
For our first examples, we won’t worry about whether it would work better to use an action beat (it usually does).
Correct:
“You’re a liar,” she said.
“You’re a liar?” she asked.
Incorrect:
“You’re a liar.” She said.
“You’re a liar?” She asked.
Now let’s look at some action beats, which are usually complete sentences and so should begin with capital letters. Notice the punctuation before the closing quotation marks.
Correct:
“You’re a liar.” She slammed down the newspaper.
“You’re a liar?” Her fingers stole to her cell phone.
Incorrect:
“You’re a liar,” she slammed down the newspaper.
“You’re a liar?” her fingers stole to her cell phone.
Let’s all say it together: A complete sentence should begin with a capital letter.
Happy writing. ☺
Luckily, there are some simple guidelines we can follow to make sure the punctuation and capitalization of our dialogue tags are appropriate.
When a dialogue tag is not a complete sentence, its first letter doesn’t need to be capitalized, even when the preceding punctuation is not a comma. I think the non-comma punctuation is what throws many people for a loop.
Rule of thumb: A complete sentence should begin with a capital letter.
For our first examples, we won’t worry about whether it would work better to use an action beat (it usually does).
Correct:
“You’re a liar,” she said.
“You’re a liar?” she asked.
Incorrect:
“You’re a liar.” She said.
“You’re a liar?” She asked.
Now let’s look at some action beats, which are usually complete sentences and so should begin with capital letters. Notice the punctuation before the closing quotation marks.
Correct:
“You’re a liar.” She slammed down the newspaper.
“You’re a liar?” Her fingers stole to her cell phone.
Incorrect:
“You’re a liar,” she slammed down the newspaper.
“You’re a liar?” her fingers stole to her cell phone.
Let’s all say it together: A complete sentence should begin with a capital letter.
Happy writing. ☺
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Painful yet Necessary: Sometimes you need to cut a scene
On the weekend, I finally had it with my forsythia. I’d babied it for five years, and instead of a glorious show of canary yellow blossoms each spring, all I got were a few pathetic flowers at ground level. Not the effect I’d been hoping for.Ever have a scene like that? One that contains a unique turn of phrase, quirky humor, a poignant line of dialogue—but fails miserably at being a cohesive part of your story, no matter how much, ahem, fertilizer you add.
There comes a time in every manuscript’s life when we have to cut one or more scenes (most manuscripts, anyway, especially those of seat-of-the-pants writers). It’s hard work. We can’t just prune out a few damaged twigs; we need to get right in there with a shovel, a garden fork, a lot of perspiration, and maybe a pry bar to detach those beloved words’ hold on our heart.
Sure, deleting a scene will leave you with an aching back and blisters on your hands, figuratively speaking. But once the deleted scene is gone (you can save it in a separate file, though you’ll probably find you never end up using it), you’ll have the perfect spot for a scene that works for your story.
Writing that new scene is usually far less difficult than removing the old one, because now that you’ve decided the old scene doesn’t work, you know why it doesn’t work, which leads to a good idea of exactly what will work—something that fits seamlessly with the surrounding scenes.
In the case of the forsythia that refused to bloom, the surrounding shrubs that bloom enthusiastically are lilacs.Good-bye forsythia, hello lilac.
I encourage you to stop fighting with those difficult scenes that refuse to cooperate with the scenes around them. Take them out, set them aside, and work in scenes that support the overarching story. You’ll be glad you did.
Happy writing. ☺
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Purple Prose: Part 2
Hi, everyone. I’ve been away from the Inspirational Editor blog for a few months (yikes, how did the time fly by so fast?), and I’m delighted to be back with part 2 of our purple prose discussion.
To refresh your memories, Zebra author Anthea Lawson shared her fabulous example of purple prose, which is nothing like the lovely writing you’ll find in her books, I promise.
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
We picked a POV character (Rosamunda) and tried to stay out of anyone’s head but hers, and we stripped out quite a few adjectives, adverbs, and exclamation marks. So far so good, but we still had some work to do.
Today let’s address a logic issue that also creates an emotion issue: the gasp. OK, so Rosamunda gasps, what’s wrong with that? We all do it from time to time, especially when we’re surprised or offended or especially pleased. Right? But we have no context for Rosamunda’s gasp, and that creates two problems:
1) What made her gasp in the first place? The villain? The gust of wind? For our readers to feel like they’re in the scene, we need them to be able to experience a connected series of events and responses. If you’re unfamiliar with Dwight Swain’s Motivation-Reaction Unit concept, please take a few seconds right now to pop over to my favorite article about scene structure.
2) What emotion are we supposed to feel because of the gasp? Indignation? Terror? Anticipation? For all we know, “the villain” could be Rosamunda’s pet name for her lover.
We could assume that because this one-paragraph story ends with Rosamunda jumping off a cliff to avoid losing her innocence to the villain, that her gasp is a direct response to the villain’s approach. She’s likely more afraid of him than of the wind. But what if we use the wind to prompt not just a gasp, but a series of events that causes an emotional reaction, an intellectual reaction, a physical symptom of her emotion, and then a gasp? This is how we nurture an event into an emotionally compelling piece of fiction.
Let’s see what happens when we delve deeper into the events surrounding Rosamunda’s gasp, as well as massaging the rest of the events into a more logical order and adding another intellectual response before she takes her swan dive. We’ll also tweak the tears, which are not exactly out of Rosamunda’s POV, but could be used to bring the reader deeper into Rosamunda’s experience of the scene.
As the villain approached, Rosamunda shrieked. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts, icy fingers skittering up her calves and exposing her flesh to him. He leered and increased his pace, holding his arms wide to prevent her slipping past him. If he caught her, he would commit the vilest acts of debauchery upon her, just as he had upon those girls whose poor corpses had been discovered. She should never have ignored her hero’s warning and come out alone. She backed up another step, and the cliff edge crumbled under her heel. Nausea rolled through her stomach. She gasped. [Their dialogue continues here—another topic for another post.] Only one choice remained for her. Hot, stinging moisture blurred her vision as she sobbed and stepped over the cliff edge.
Better?
I'd like to add a note regarding making revisions based on someone else's suggestions. The "revisions" we've seen here are mine (because it's my blog ☺). Normally editorial advice comes with the expectation that the author will be making the revisions in her own unique way. If you have a fabulous, experienced agent or editor who suggests changes to make your manuscript stronger and more marketable, it's always a good idea to take those suggestions seriously. But if anyone suggests you make changes that feel wrong for your voice or your characters or your story, that's another thing altogether. Your book should always remain your book.
Let’s all pay special attention to using strong nouns and verbs instead of flowery adjectives or adverbs; incorporating logical progressions of events and characters’ reactions; and integrating the setting into our scenes in a meaningful way so the literary world can become a far less purple place.
And please join me in giving Anthea a heartfelt thanks for being such a good sport.
Happy writing. ☺
To refresh your memories, Zebra author Anthea Lawson shared her fabulous example of purple prose, which is nothing like the lovely writing you’ll find in her books, I promise.
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
We picked a POV character (Rosamunda) and tried to stay out of anyone’s head but hers, and we stripped out quite a few adjectives, adverbs, and exclamation marks. So far so good, but we still had some work to do.
Today let’s address a logic issue that also creates an emotion issue: the gasp. OK, so Rosamunda gasps, what’s wrong with that? We all do it from time to time, especially when we’re surprised or offended or especially pleased. Right? But we have no context for Rosamunda’s gasp, and that creates two problems:
1) What made her gasp in the first place? The villain? The gust of wind? For our readers to feel like they’re in the scene, we need them to be able to experience a connected series of events and responses. If you’re unfamiliar with Dwight Swain’s Motivation-Reaction Unit concept, please take a few seconds right now to pop over to my favorite article about scene structure.
2) What emotion are we supposed to feel because of the gasp? Indignation? Terror? Anticipation? For all we know, “the villain” could be Rosamunda’s pet name for her lover.
We could assume that because this one-paragraph story ends with Rosamunda jumping off a cliff to avoid losing her innocence to the villain, that her gasp is a direct response to the villain’s approach. She’s likely more afraid of him than of the wind. But what if we use the wind to prompt not just a gasp, but a series of events that causes an emotional reaction, an intellectual reaction, a physical symptom of her emotion, and then a gasp? This is how we nurture an event into an emotionally compelling piece of fiction.
Let’s see what happens when we delve deeper into the events surrounding Rosamunda’s gasp, as well as massaging the rest of the events into a more logical order and adding another intellectual response before she takes her swan dive. We’ll also tweak the tears, which are not exactly out of Rosamunda’s POV, but could be used to bring the reader deeper into Rosamunda’s experience of the scene.
As the villain approached, Rosamunda shrieked. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts, icy fingers skittering up her calves and exposing her flesh to him. He leered and increased his pace, holding his arms wide to prevent her slipping past him. If he caught her, he would commit the vilest acts of debauchery upon her, just as he had upon those girls whose poor corpses had been discovered. She should never have ignored her hero’s warning and come out alone. She backed up another step, and the cliff edge crumbled under her heel. Nausea rolled through her stomach. She gasped. [Their dialogue continues here—another topic for another post.] Only one choice remained for her. Hot, stinging moisture blurred her vision as she sobbed and stepped over the cliff edge.
Better?
I'd like to add a note regarding making revisions based on someone else's suggestions. The "revisions" we've seen here are mine (because it's my blog ☺). Normally editorial advice comes with the expectation that the author will be making the revisions in her own unique way. If you have a fabulous, experienced agent or editor who suggests changes to make your manuscript stronger and more marketable, it's always a good idea to take those suggestions seriously. But if anyone suggests you make changes that feel wrong for your voice or your characters or your story, that's another thing altogether. Your book should always remain your book.
Let’s all pay special attention to using strong nouns and verbs instead of flowery adjectives or adverbs; incorporating logical progressions of events and characters’ reactions; and integrating the setting into our scenes in a meaningful way so the literary world can become a far less purple place.
And please join me in giving Anthea a heartfelt thanks for being such a good sport.
Happy writing. ☺
Friday, December 5, 2008
Purple Prose Revision: Part 1
One of you asked to see a revision of the purple prose we looked at in the previous post. Because this is a big topic, I’ll split it into at least two parts.
There will be something special for a reader who’s paying attention. ☺
To refresh your memory, here the writing sample is in all its purple glory (graciously donated by unpurple Zebra author Anthea Lawson):
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
If a piece like this one landed on my desk, I would first encourage the author to join a critique group and invest in some how-to-write books (small outlay, huge benefits).
But this once, let’s see what we can do to elevate it from its current state. While tackling the bigger issues, I’ll be doing some tweaking and tightening.
First, we should pick a POV character. How about Rosamunda, since she seems to be the character the reader is supposed to be emotionally invested in. So let’s strip out all the stuff Rosamunda probably wouldn’t be thinking about or noticing right now:
Rosamunda shrieked as the darkly menacing villain approached. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts. She gasped. “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
You were paying attention, right? Did you see what I missed in that revision? The first person to leave a comment identifying the remaining phrase that pushes the borders of Rosamunda’s POV will earn an in-depth edit of five manuscript pages. Now, back to Rusamunda’s issues.
Next, we’ll trim away a lot of the adjectives, adverbs, and exclamation marks, because although they’re not a structural issue, they’re driving me loony each time I read them (which isn’t the effect we want our writing to have on our readers):
Rosamunda shrieked as the villain approached. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts. She gasped. “You villain. You will never take me against my will. I know my hero will come to save me.” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your lips will yield to my kisses and your innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never.” Clutching her arms about her, Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed and stepped over the cliff edge.
Time to look at a bigger issue: logic. See how in each version, she gasped is either referring to the way she speaks or is just stuck in the paragraph, presumably as a reaction to the effects of the wind or the villain? The first scenario doesn’t make sense unless Rosamunda is playing Elliot in E.T. (remember the scene where Elliot speaks only when he’s inhaling?) or the reader is aware of what, exactly, happened to cause the gasp. We could omit the gasp or we could add a few words to help it make sense.
Let’s add a few words, but not just yet, because this ties in with the next issue we’ll address: emotion.
We’ll add those words and discuss getting emotion on the page in the next post.
Until then, happy writing. ☺
There will be something special for a reader who’s paying attention. ☺
To refresh your memory, here the writing sample is in all its purple glory (graciously donated by unpurple Zebra author Anthea Lawson):
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
If a piece like this one landed on my desk, I would first encourage the author to join a critique group and invest in some how-to-write books (small outlay, huge benefits).
But this once, let’s see what we can do to elevate it from its current state. While tackling the bigger issues, I’ll be doing some tweaking and tightening.
First, we should pick a POV character. How about Rosamunda, since she seems to be the character the reader is supposed to be emotionally invested in. So let’s strip out all the stuff Rosamunda probably wouldn’t be thinking about or noticing right now:
Rosamunda shrieked as the darkly menacing villain approached. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts. She gasped. “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
You were paying attention, right? Did you see what I missed in that revision? The first person to leave a comment identifying the remaining phrase that pushes the borders of Rosamunda’s POV will earn an in-depth edit of five manuscript pages. Now, back to Rusamunda’s issues.
Next, we’ll trim away a lot of the adjectives, adverbs, and exclamation marks, because although they’re not a structural issue, they’re driving me loony each time I read them (which isn’t the effect we want our writing to have on our readers):
Rosamunda shrieked as the villain approached. The wind whipped her hair and her skirts. She gasped. “You villain. You will never take me against my will. I know my hero will come to save me.” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your lips will yield to my kisses and your innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never.” Clutching her arms about her, Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed and stepped over the cliff edge.
Time to look at a bigger issue: logic. See how in each version, she gasped is either referring to the way she speaks or is just stuck in the paragraph, presumably as a reaction to the effects of the wind or the villain? The first scenario doesn’t make sense unless Rosamunda is playing Elliot in E.T. (remember the scene where Elliot speaks only when he’s inhaling?) or the reader is aware of what, exactly, happened to cause the gasp. We could omit the gasp or we could add a few words to help it make sense.
Let’s add a few words, but not just yet, because this ties in with the next issue we’ll address: emotion.
We’ll add those words and discuss getting emotion on the page in the next post.
Until then, happy writing. ☺
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Purple Prose: How to Recognize Your Own Overwriting
Zebra author Anthea Lawson kindly gave permission to share her example of what purple prose looks like.
(Note to my daintier readers: Anthea writes “spicy” romances, and her site reflects that.)
OK, set down your coffee before you read this so you don’t spray your monitor like I did when I read it. Ready?
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
Now, let’s figure out what makes the example above so purple.
We know strong writing is built with strong nouns and verbs, not modifiers—but of the 149 words in the example, 18 are adverbs or adjectives (that’s almost one word in eight):
alabaster
maidenly
darkly
menacing
golden
silken
voluptuous
lovingly
treacherous
stormy
forward
evil
petal-soft
punishing
dewy
carnal
beauteous
saphhire
lovely
doomed
On the other hand, there’s such a thing as using too many strong verbs in quick succession. Check out this list of over-the-top verbs:
heaving
shriek
whipped
molding
clinging
gasped
clutching
Clichés, anyone?
heaving alabaster bosom
dark villain
golden tresses
mounds of breasts
petal-soft lips
punishing kisses
dewy innocence
carnal delights
sapphire eyes
And count the exclamation points! Four of them in the equivalent of half a manuscript page! Eeek! If you can't limit yourself to one or two exclamation points per manuscript, try for one or two per chapter—and your in-house editor may still remind you that with exclamation points, less is more.
All right, now we have an idea what to look for when we’re eliminating shades of purple from our wips. We should feel free to write freely for that first, get-the-story-on-paper draft, but let’s remember to go back later and trim out the “lovely, doomed swans.”
Thanks to Anthea for her great example of purple prose, which in no way reflects her actual writing style.
Happy writing. ☺
(Note to my daintier readers: Anthea writes “spicy” romances, and her site reflects that.)
OK, set down your coffee before you read this so you don’t spray your monitor like I did when I read it. Ready?
Her alabaster bosom heaving, Rosamunda let out a maidenly shriek as the darkly menacing villain approached. Golden tresses whipped by the wind, her silken skirts molding to her voluptuous thighs and clinging lovingly to the mounds of her breasts, she gasped... “You treacherous villain! You will never take me against my will! I know my hero will come to save me!” The villain let out a cackle that cracked like thunder in the stormy air. “I think not, my lovely. Not unless he can fly.” He stalked forward, hands outstretched like evil claws. “Tonight, you will be mine. Your petal-soft lips will yield to my punishing kisses and your dewy innocence will turn to knowledge of the carnal delights that await.” “Never!” Clutching her arms about her, the beauteous Rosamunda turned. Tears welled in her sapphire eyes, she sobbed, and, like a lovely, doomed swan, stepped over the cliff edge.
Now, let’s figure out what makes the example above so purple.
We know strong writing is built with strong nouns and verbs, not modifiers—but of the 149 words in the example, 18 are adverbs or adjectives (that’s almost one word in eight):
alabaster
maidenly
darkly
menacing
golden
silken
voluptuous
lovingly
treacherous
stormy
forward
evil
petal-soft
punishing
dewy
carnal
beauteous
saphhire
lovely
doomed
On the other hand, there’s such a thing as using too many strong verbs in quick succession. Check out this list of over-the-top verbs:
heaving
shriek
whipped
molding
clinging
gasped
clutching
Clichés, anyone?
heaving alabaster bosom
dark villain
golden tresses
mounds of breasts
petal-soft lips
punishing kisses
dewy innocence
carnal delights
sapphire eyes
And count the exclamation points! Four of them in the equivalent of half a manuscript page! Eeek! If you can't limit yourself to one or two exclamation points per manuscript, try for one or two per chapter—and your in-house editor may still remind you that with exclamation points, less is more.
All right, now we have an idea what to look for when we’re eliminating shades of purple from our wips. We should feel free to write freely for that first, get-the-story-on-paper draft, but let’s remember to go back later and trim out the “lovely, doomed swans.”
Thanks to Anthea for her great example of purple prose, which in no way reflects her actual writing style.
Happy writing. ☺
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
So You Want to Write a Historical Novel
I have a guest blogger today—a talented author of historical novels, Laurie Alice Eakes.
Take it away, Laurie Alice . . .
Today, I started to read a book by one of my grad school mentors (thesis adviser). I already knew that Victoria Thompson is a talented writer and have consumed several of her Gaslight historical mysteries. This one, Murder in Chinatown, surpasses the other ones I've read, which is really saying something. The question is why? She has the same characters; the same setup of Sarah, her midwife heroine in late 19th century New York City, encountering a murder; and Detective Frank Malloy working with her to solve it. Classic mystery series plotting.
What makes this book stand out, are the details. As my husband put it, this story could not have been set anywhere else at any other time and been the same story.
To me, this is the definition of a true historical novel. It's not about the costumes or the language; it's about the whole picture, how the plot, characters, and historical setting are integral to one another.
If the story could take place in Regency England or Victorian San Francisco, it might be categorized as a historical novel, yet it falls short of the true spirit of the genre. Why? Because the details aren't refined enough, the research too minimally displayed, to give the reader a true experience of time-traveling into the past.
In Murder in Chinatown, Thompson points out that, at the time of her story, Chinese women were not allowed into the U.S.; therefore, Chinese men were marrying Irish women. The Chinese men made more money than and showed more respect for their wives than did the Irish men, so the women were better off. Right there, you have a setup that dates this story firmly in time and place. Earlier, you don't have the restriction on Chinese immigration. The Irish-Chinese integration is crucial to the plot with the melding—or is it clashing?—of cultures. Take out these historical details, and you have a different tale.
In my first book, The Widow's Secret, I use a real historical character, Sir John Fielding. That this Bow Street (London) magistrate was blind was crucial to solving the mystery surrounding my hypermetropic (far-sighted) heroine. Without his insight (no pun intended), the story would have had to go in a far different direction or not worked at all.
Tracie Peterson is another author gifted in taking real events and incorporating them into her novels. She doesn't use them gratuitously to enhance her story; she uses these events as an integral part of the story. Take out that event, and the story is not the same one. In A Lady of High Regard, her heroine is involved with Sarah Hale of Godey's Lady's Book Magazine, fame, and conditions amongst seamen's wives along the docks of Philadelphia. These are aspects that are unique to the story. Take them out, and the heroine has nothing to do.
And that is the key to writing a true historical novel, as opposed to a novel set in history—the story cannot be transported to another place or time.
Happy writing. ☺
Take it away, Laurie Alice . . .
Today, I started to read a book by one of my grad school mentors (thesis adviser). I already knew that Victoria Thompson is a talented writer and have consumed several of her Gaslight historical mysteries. This one, Murder in Chinatown, surpasses the other ones I've read, which is really saying something. The question is why? She has the same characters; the same setup of Sarah, her midwife heroine in late 19th century New York City, encountering a murder; and Detective Frank Malloy working with her to solve it. Classic mystery series plotting.
What makes this book stand out, are the details. As my husband put it, this story could not have been set anywhere else at any other time and been the same story.
To me, this is the definition of a true historical novel. It's not about the costumes or the language; it's about the whole picture, how the plot, characters, and historical setting are integral to one another.
If the story could take place in Regency England or Victorian San Francisco, it might be categorized as a historical novel, yet it falls short of the true spirit of the genre. Why? Because the details aren't refined enough, the research too minimally displayed, to give the reader a true experience of time-traveling into the past.
In Murder in Chinatown, Thompson points out that, at the time of her story, Chinese women were not allowed into the U.S.; therefore, Chinese men were marrying Irish women. The Chinese men made more money than and showed more respect for their wives than did the Irish men, so the women were better off. Right there, you have a setup that dates this story firmly in time and place. Earlier, you don't have the restriction on Chinese immigration. The Irish-Chinese integration is crucial to the plot with the melding—or is it clashing?—of cultures. Take out these historical details, and you have a different tale.
In my first book, The Widow's Secret, I use a real historical character, Sir John Fielding. That this Bow Street (London) magistrate was blind was crucial to solving the mystery surrounding my hypermetropic (far-sighted) heroine. Without his insight (no pun intended), the story would have had to go in a far different direction or not worked at all.
Tracie Peterson is another author gifted in taking real events and incorporating them into her novels. She doesn't use them gratuitously to enhance her story; she uses these events as an integral part of the story. Take out that event, and the story is not the same one. In A Lady of High Regard, her heroine is involved with Sarah Hale of Godey's Lady's Book Magazine, fame, and conditions amongst seamen's wives along the docks of Philadelphia. These are aspects that are unique to the story. Take them out, and the heroine has nothing to do.
And that is the key to writing a true historical novel, as opposed to a novel set in history—the story cannot be transported to another place or time.
Happy writing. ☺
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