Blog Hiatus

It’s that time of the year again. Even though National Novel Writing Month is officially dead, I still think of November as a month to lay other things aside and focus on writing, so that’s what I’m going to do. Things will be silent for a while around here as I, hopefully, make some progress on a couple of projects.


First will be a short story for the third volume of Old Bones, the journal of the Henlo Press. The inspiration is worms. I think I’ve got a fun angle on it.

Then I’m planning to dive into my next novel (The Fall is still percolating through the editing process, don’t worry!). At this point it will probably be the sequel to The Triplets of Tennerton, as the prep work for it is largely done. That said, who knows if something else might catch my fancy in the next couple of weeks before November starts?

Tune back in around the start of December to find out!

“Which One Is Your Favorite?”

Last weekend, at the Writer’s Block event hosted by Henlo Press, I had a discussion with a potential customer that threw me for a loop. Surveying my books, she asked, “which one is your favorite?” It’s a harder question than you’d think and one I’d never put any real thought into.

The cliched answer for an artist is to say that their newest project (either the just-released one they’re promoting or the one that’s about to come out) is their favorite, which I suppose makes some sense. The latest work is the one into which you’ve most recently poured your heart and soul. It’s very front of mind. And, of course, it’s new and shiny and you want people to buy it?

But, in my experience at least, the latest project is often your least favorite, at least in some ways. It’s also the one you’ve just sweated over and bled for, the one you’ve wrestled into a final form that is “done” but you think could probably be better if you just spent another week/month/year/decade working on it. Once I’m done with a book I’m sort of “and good riddance!”, at least for a little while.

A year on from the release of The Triplets of Tennerton that feeling has pretty much gone away. I’m quite proud of it and think of it as my “best” work, given that it’s the culmination of everything I’ve learned and practiced over the past 15 years or so of writing fiction. But is that the same thing as being my “favorite”? It’s a hard question.

Without doubt, Moore Hollow would be an easy choice for favorite, since it was my first novel (I love The Last Ereph for being its gawky, awkwardness and it being the real first book, but it’s not in consideration for “favorite”). It was, after all, the proof that I could do this and got me out there talking to people about stories I was telling, which is awesome! That said, Moore Hollow (and Triplets) are both more or less set in the “real” world.

It wasn’t until The Water Road (and its sequels) that I dove head first into the kind of ground-up world building that’s been a part of so many stories I’ve loved over the years. If Moore Hollow was proof I could write a novel, The Water Road was proof I could create a world and bring readers into a place that only existed in my mind. I was able to tell a full, compelling story of a world that doesn’t exist, filled with “people” who aren’t even human, and that doesn’t include typical fantasy magic. How could that not be my favorite?

But then again, the Gods of the Empire and its sequels showed I could do it all again! I can’t speak for other creators, but I kind of always feel, in the back of my head, that when I finish one book that I might never finish another. So being able to put The Water Road trilogy to bed and turning to a completely different world and build it up from scratch made me feel pretty good. It was a different experience doing it with what I’d learned from The Water Road in my head. So that trilogy is maybe tighter and more put together than the first?

All this goes to show that I can’t actually name a favorite book and, in fact, it’s not a great question to ask a creative person. Would you ask me to choose a favorite between these two?

Of course you wouldn’t!

The better question, if you’re ever in the same position as my potential reader this weekend, is “which would you recommend?” That turns the focus from what I think to what you, the reader, is looking for. You like semi-mysteries with a dash of the paranormal and a smart-ass protaganist? I’ve got that. Epic fantasy, with deep political and social world building, but not worried about the absence of magic or human beings? That, too. Something steampunky? Lemme show you these.

Because, ultimately, it doesn’t matter what I think or feel about my own work. It’s about how best I can match you up with a new book you’re going to love.

On Historical Fiction

Years ago – I mean years ago  – I remembered Roger Ebert describing Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor in this withering way:

“Pearl Harbor” is a two-hour movie squeezed into three hours, about how on Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese staged a surprise attack on an American love triangle.

At the time I thought that was just a good burn on a bad, schlocky, blockbuster (surely less entertaining than the commentary track for whichever Kevin Smith film it was where they bust on co-star Ben Affleck relentlessly for it), but the more I think about it, Ebert’s observation identifies a key difficulty when it comes to historical fiction – are you telling a story about a historical event or about people in a historical time who might be impacted by it?

That dilemma hit me recently as I read a pair of books built around a period of local history known as the West Virginia Mine Wars. They take very different approaches to the material which left one much more successful than the other, at least for me.

The first was Rednecks, by Taylor Brown.

“Rednecks,” for those not familiar, was the term used to describe striking miners who would tie a red bandana around their necks (it was derogatory at first, then adopted by the miners). The book Rednecks acts almost as a kind of sequel to the great John Sayles’ film Matewan, starting with the “Matewan Massacre” that was the culmination of the film. It then tells of the events that led to the Battle of Blair Mountain, the largest armed conflict in the United States since the Civil War (so far, at least).

The second book was Storming Heaven, by Denise Giardina.

While it ends in roughly the same place as Rednecks, Storming Heaven covers the whole of the Mine Wars period, starting with the railroads coming into the West Virginia/Kentucky border area in the 1890s and buying up property using sketchy methods.

Beyond that, the two books differ in whose story is being told. The main characters in Rednecks are a local doctor (of Lebanese extraction, apparently inspired by one of the author’s ancestors) and a miner, both fictional, but lots of the smaller roles are filled by real people – Mother Jones, Sid Hatfield, and such. We get chapters from their points-of-view and some big speeches that are probably historically accurate. The downside is that they tend to drain the momentum of the main characters’ stories and can come off like one of those “you are there!” books for young readers.

By contrast, in Storming Heaven all the characters are fictional. They do occasionally interact with real people and some are fictional takes on real people – Sid Hatfield, for instance, gets a doppelganger who is also assassinated on the courthouse steps. In fact, the book takes place in a couple of fictional counties (one in West Virginia, on in Kentucky), but manages to interact with the “real world” enough to retain a sense of realism.

The result is that Rednecks feels like a book that was written to bring knowledge of a particular historical event to the public via fiction. That’s a noble pursuit and it’s certainly a mode of fiction that does a lot of work across literature, film, and TV. What it doesn’t really feel like is a story of people, characters, who feel alive and real in their own. I was far more engaged with Rednecks when it focused on the fictional doc and miner than when it leaned on actual historical figures.

Storming Heaven, by contrast feels like a fully fleshed out work of fiction that happens to be set during a particular historical period. I didn’t care about the characters because of the events they were living through, I cared about them as individuals. In the process, I think you get a better feel for what the historical period was like. No doubt, Rednecks is a lot more granular in terms of how Blair Mountain went down, but Storming Heaven hits harder emotionally, even with less historical detail.

I did an interview recently where I said that the most important element in good writing is building interesting characters. If you don’t care about the people to whom the events of the story are happening nothing else really matters. I think details of events are better left to non-fiction, to the work of historians and journalists. Historical fiction works best when it’s trying to capture the feeling of what it meant to live during the time period involved.

Or you can do what I do and plunder history for ideas and turn them into fantasy or sci-fi stories. Then there’s no worry about getting history “right” because the history is whatever you think it should be!