The historical novel was invented by Sir Walter Scott. 

Sir Walter Scott

In 1814, he penned a book called Waverly. It took the revolt of Bonnie Prince Charlie, an exiled member of the royal Stuart family, who had been kicked off the throne of England and replaced by the House of Windsor (who are still in power in England). Charles Stuart tried to get the throne back, won a couple of initial battles, but his army was badly defeated at the Battle of Cullendon Moor in 1746. Charles escaped and the cause of the Stuarts was at an end. What Scott did that was innovative was to take a character, stick him in the middle of this historical event, and weave a story about how the series of events affected him.

Scott created a genre still followed today. Such novels as The Red Badge of Courage, Gone With the Wind, War and Peace, and, more recently, All the Light We Cannot See, are historical novels that follow this strategy. Short stories can do the same thing, and an early story of mine called "The Horses of Hoddington Marsh," plugged into the historical genre. It was also a paranormal story, so it mixed up genres a bit. Still, it showed that embedding story in historical reference is a good way to create unique and often compelling tales.

Thinking about historical stories brought Boudicca to mind.

Boudicca was a Celtic Queen whose daughters were sexually abused by Roman conquerors. She led a revolt against the occupying Romans, destroyed London, and won several victories until he army was trapped and slaughtered. She committed suicide by drinking poison.

At the same time, maybe because I was teaching Wuthering Heights, I had been thinking about British moor ponies—wild horses who live free in England's swampy midlands. Certain herds have lived in the same location for thousands of years and are protected by law. Thousands of years . . . ponies . . . Boudicca . . . the wheels began to turn.

I took my main character, Sossity Chandler, who is going to do a concert tour in England. Her children are with their father (in the aftermath of a painful divorce).  Sossity never tours alone and is traveling with Lynette, her cousin, a hard-luck girl who is living an unhappy life as a single mother. On the way over, Sossity dreams of English moor ponies, Boudicca, and of a young girl named Rowena who is commissioned to care for "the sacred horses of Hoder's Marsh." The dream is vivid—so much that when Sossity sees an icon in an Anglican church, she is struck by the resemblance of the saintly figure to the young girl she saw in her dream.  Locals tell her the figure is Saint Rowena, a pagan girl who converted to Christianity, married a Roman governor of the province, promoted the new Christian religion, and is believed to be a healer and protector by the pious.

She also learns that the Horses of Hoddington Marsh are dying from a mysterious disease. And she notices the tension in Lynette's life when an English soccer star, Mark Renbourne, arrives to coach a youth team in town. The dreams of the horses and of Rowena continue. The tension between Sossity and Lynette increases. Led by what seems to be promptings from the horses, Sossity finds that illegal chemical dumping by a local factory is killing the horses. Also, she discovers that Mark Renbourne is the father of Lynette's child, still loves her, and doesn't understand why she has left him and moved to Canada.

Saint Rowena is the saint of healing and restoration. Lynette and the horses are restored to wholeness by her invisible and indirect intervention. And Sossity too. She is hurt physically when she treks into the marsh to discover what is killing the horses; and emotionally by the divorce and her absence from her children. Restoration, she discovers, does not necessarily bring suffering to an end, but it brings understanding and the patience to endure it.

Combining the historical and the paranormal created a memorable story. History can be a spring to story—and not just to the recreations of the past authors usually end up doing in a purely historical novel. Postmodernism allows one to play with timelines and narrations, as in The French Lieutenant's Woman. 

Paranormal writing allows us to use magic and time-travel. And history offers many fascinating characters one can creatively work with. It's good raw material by which to construct stories of various types.

If you like writing about medieval or pre-medieval matters, read The Last Minstrel. The title is taken from a poem by Sir Walter Scott! It is a story of magic, sorcery, music, and love.

Or, if a full-length novel involving historical and paranormal elements appeals to you, you will like The Sorceress of the Northern Seas.

 

For other works, check out my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.  

Dave's Anatomy #10: My History As A Writer: Soft and Dark Horror: "Bertha Todd"

One of the first stories I wrote, and the first story I wrote about my ongoing character, Sossity Chandler, was a horror story. But I don't like what is called "dark horror." Dark horror is where harrowing things happen to people and no one seems to be able to stop the monster, vampire, serial killer, or whatever it is wreaking havoc. Body count is high. In the end, the evil thing gets away and, you can be assured, will strike again soon.

The horror I write is what is called "soft horror," a kinder, gentler version of its wayward sister. There is something evil, it threatens and may destroy, but it is overcome in the end and, if not destroyed, at least contained. If we use Stephen King's work as an example, Pet Semitary is dark horror. Evil wins out and good can't survive. A lot of King's early horror was dark horror. Bag of Bones, on the other hand, is soft horror. A lot of scary things happens in the book, but ultimately the malevolent force is driven away and the main character, though shaken and bloodied by his encounter, will not only survive but thrive and get what he wants (in this case, adopt a young girl he has responsibilities toward).

Dark horror is based on the idea that evil is unstoppable—a thing I don't believe. It also suggests that the nature of things tends toward evil, not good. Again, I don't believe this. Like Saint Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and C. S. Lewis, I believe that evil has no existence in and of itself but is only the twisting and perverting of good. Given this, it cannot have an ultimate power because it is a derivative phenomenon.

The second horror story I published, one with a new character,

was called "Bertha Todd." Like a lot of my characters, the protagonist is a musician. He seems to write his best songs in a house on a remote lake. The lake is ringed by summer houses and also by permanent residents. Like many summer homes, the cabin is named, Bertha Todd, after the woman who had it built.

To simplify the story, Larry finds that the ghost of Bertha Todd, a musician with a tragic past, haunts the place and helps him with his songwriting. He begins dating her granddaughter, Tess Bristow. He also notices that Mil (Millicent) Bristow, Tess's mother and, he later learns, the illegitimate child that ended Bertha Todd's career in the 1930s, drinks a lot—a while lot.

Without rehearsing too much of the plot, the actions of the ghost of Bertha Todd are threatening (when she thinks Larry plans to seduce Tess) but more often they are benevolent and positive. Bertha is not an evil ghost. She is attached to the house because of the sorrow of her life, but she does not exhibit evil behavior. In fact, her actions are rather moralistic. She wants to the best for her daughter and granddaughter. She wants Larry to do what she cannot do for them. She is willing to give him songs that will be hits if he is willing to help her daughter and grandchild. This is the sort of thing that is called soft horror. Evil doesn't have the upper hand. 

Mr. Hyde in foggy London Town

In film versions of Robert Lewis Stevenson's classic tale, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," the evil persona, Hyde, is depicted as bigger than life, magnificent in his monstrosity, and possessing superhuman strength. If you've ever read the story, though, you know the opposite is true. Mr. Hyde is misshapen and ugly. He is not, as in the films, seven feet tall but is so short he has to roll up the legs of his trousers to walk. People laugh at him and mock his shrunken appearance. Yet something about him is repulsive. Evil, in Stevenson's story, is not magnificent but pathetic and ugly.

In the end, Larry is respectful of Tess and careful not to go too far with her. He also helps her mother, Mil, to recognize that she can no longer hide her alcoholism. The story ends on a positive note:

Larry went back to the house. He packed up his car to head south. He intended to drive down and stay with his parents a few days before the other band members came up to see him at Bertha Todd and to hear the new songs he had written. As he left, he felt a quiet serenity in the house. He turned by the door and spoke out loud.

“I understand. You’ve given me what you had to give. The songs I wrote made our group successful and gave me back my life. I’m in your debt.  I owe you a lot. Tess is a wonderful woman.  I will respect her convictions. We’ll see where things go. And Mil—well, you were there. I imagine you heard what she said.” He paused then grinned. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

The emanations in the room were of joy and, he strongly sensed, amusement. He turned, went outside, locked the door behind him, and climbed in his car to drive south.

Looking from my perspective today, I would say the story is overly moralistic and a little bit on the sentimental side. Still, it got published, was enjoyed by some readers, and, like all stories, was another rung on the ladder of learning how to write. I wouldn't disown it because of its flaws. It also showed me my ideas on the nature of horror writing. More soft horror would come, though I did now and then venture into the realm of darker horror—just for the sake of seeing that I could write it.

"Bertha Todd" was published in a journal that is no longer in print; no online copy is available.

But, you can get a copy of The Last Minstrel. You will encounter Celtic mythology, the evil Goddess Morrigan, and much more.  

 Or, if you prefer witches, sorcery, music of the early 1970s, and crazy love, take a look at Strange Brew. When a witch is in love with you, the magic can get serious.

Dave's Anatomy #9: My History as a Writer: Writing stories based on songs: "Purple Haze"

As a musician, I know a lot of songs. As a writer, I use them to create stories. Looking back, the creative evolution of these stories intrigues me. Writing a story based on a song, on the concept of song, entails more than simply taking  what is described in a song's lyrics and turning it into a narrative tale. Songs are poems of a sort and they create not merely narratives with the lyrics but also a group of creative associations that become springboards into unique plot sequences.

Looking at lyrics, I marvel at how they are so often creatively associative. An old Led Zeppelin song, "Rock and Roll," has the line, Been a long time since the book of love. I've pondered the exact meaning of that line a lot. Does it mean:  Been a long time since the book of love was written? Been a long time since I read the book of love? Been a long time since the Monotones released "Who Wrote the Book of Love" in 1957? What is the book of love? This is the richness of song lyrics. Or the line by Cat Stevens, in "Peace Train":  Peace train holy roller. Again, what does this mean? A holy roller is a derogatory name for a charismatic or Pentecostal Christian who might shout or, in some cases, roll on the floor in religious ecstasy. But what does that have to do with the Peace Train? And what is the Peace Train anyway?

Song lyrics are not as cut and dried as we think. Ideally, they get the human mind working in creative directions. They create associations. I followed the lead of some of the associations of song lyrics in my story "Purple Haze." I had used song titles for titles of stories before:  "Son of a Preacher Man," "Norwegian Wood," "Into White," and "Revolution." Most of these stories, however, took the song titles because my character, Sossity Chandler, sang the song at one point in the story. This one was different. It relied more on creative association.

Most people interpreted "Purple Haze," as a song is about an LSD trip (though this is disputable). It emerged as a hit in 1967 and remains an iconic song in rock and roll. Whether about drugs or not, it is about someone out of control and not able to function properly. This, I think, was the thing I took to make the basic plot of the story. Sossity falls in with people who turn out to be a gang that steals musical instruments. They want her guitar. They drug her and take her to an abandoned warehouse, steal her purse, and try to get her guitar (she has left it with a friend). She also finds a stolen guitar that belonged Jimi Hendrix

But Sossity is at least able to function and reason, despite being disoriented by the drugs they gave her. She finds a headset and puts in on, thinking it may provide focus to her mind. It is a track of Jimi Hendrix's first album. By letting the familiar songs focus her mind, Sossity is able to get out and get home. The police contact her, return her stolen purse, and tell her the gang has been caught.

Years, later, her nun friend Heather arranges a meeting with a

female member of the gang, who has been religiously converted and released from prison. She asks Sossity's pardon for what she did. When Sossity asks her who helped the police find them, she answers, "It was him." Sossity asks who. The woman says, "I think you know." Though she doesn't believe in ghosts, Sossity at least considers the possibility what she has been told is true.

Being confused (possibly by drugs), helpless, and fighting for control of one's senses are big parts of the song "Purple Haze." These elements suggested Sossity's drug-induced torpor. The iconic songs on the album Are You Experienced give her a focus and help her snap out of her own "purple haze." Stories of Hendrix supply additional content. Songs lead us down creative pathways. Any pathway has lots of possibilities. Songs are good for story ideas. More on this topic later.

My new book, Mother Hulda, a short, fast-moving sci-fi tale based on a story by the Brothers Grimm, is available. Pick up a Kindle copy. 

For more titles, checks out my Writer's Page.

And--amazement!--I found an archive copy of the story, even though the journal that printed it is no longer in operation.  Here it is, for your reading pleasure:  Purple Haze. 

More to come on using songs and music in stories.