How to Write a Story #84: History and Time Travel: “Sennacherib”

Stories of time travel have occupied a prominent place in speculative fiction since the success of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine in 1895. Since its publication, people have travelled to various historical eras, engaged in adventures, changed the past, and dealt with some of the problems and dangers of altering what has happened in the space-time continuum. In the Star Trek episode, “The City on the Edge of Forever,” Dr. McCoy alters the time line so that, the talking time machine called The Guardian of Forever, tells them “nothing you know exists.” Kirk and Spock go back to America during the Great Depression in order to correct the problem. In the sixties, I watched a sappy TV show called The Time Tunnel. I only remember an episode where Niccolo Machiavelli got into the famed tunnel and was helping the Confederates win the Battle of Gettysburg. A new television show, Timeless, with a similar plot construct, premiered this year.

City on the Edge of Forever

Time intrigue us. We wonder if its limits could be defied—or if they ever have been defied. One sub-genre of time-travel writing involves speculation on how perhaps time travelers brought knowledge of technology from their own era and facilitated innovations that advanced civilization. My story “Sennacherib” borders on this slant. The characters in it do not introduce any new technology to the ancient world, but they do use modern technology to cause an event to happen.

The story begins when a British army unit fighting in the Middle East during World War I is engulfed by a sandstorm. They hunker down until it ends and move on toward a rendezvous point with another unit only to find the unit is not there and that the roads and the terrain, as described in the maps they have, seems altered. They have lost radio contact with headquarters. And, at night, Captain Rupert, the unit commander notices the sky looks different. He sees one of his soldiers who knows the stars well enough to navigate by them and speaks with him:

“Giles, are we where we are supposed to be?” he asked.

Giles, who knew the stars from years as a sailor, looked up.

“Well, I think so. But the stars aren’t right.”

Rupert laughed. “Not right? How could they be not right?”

“They’re at odd angles. They seem to have shifted. I’ve been noting their exact positions in case we get lost so we can find our way back. Tonight they look off by good distances. I feel like I’m looking at what Ptolemy might have seen—or someone before him. The most startling thing is that the star Thuban, which is part of the constellation Draco, is where Polaris, the North Star, ought to be. I’ve never seen the sky look exactly like this.”

The next day the come to a destroyed village and are appalled at the brutality whose aftermath they encounter. People have been skinned alive, impaled on spears, women and children murdered. The British fought mostly the Ottoman Turks in the Middle East in World War II and while Rupert and his men know the Turks could be brutal, they had never seen them do anything as horrible as this. Later they are attacked—not by the Germans or the Turks, but by an army dressed in ancient garments, holding shields, and carrying spears.

With modern weapons at their disposal, the British are able to destroy the force attacking them. With all the evidence around them, they realize they have gone back in time and are in the era of the Assyrian army. They have landed in the days of the brutal king Sennacherib, who attempted to conquer Jerusalem.

Determined to play their cards as best they can, they move toward the besieged city of Jerusalem and find it surrounded by the Assyrian army. They know from the biblical account that Sennacherib’s army perished, but Rupert decides he wants to do his part to save Jerusalem from the fate of the village they passed by on their way there.

Rupert’s unit had been on a mission to deliver gas shells. They decide to use them on the Assyrians and are able to launch them from a concealed area so the guns firing them off cannot be heard. The shells explode in the soft earth ramparts the Hebrews have set up to defend their city. The wind carries the poison gas in invisible clouds over the Assyrian army, destroying it. Rupert and his men sleep. When they wake up they once more have radio contact with their compatriots and are informed that General Allenby has taken Jerusalem and the Ottoman forces have retreated south. Their stock of spent gas shells is miraculously replenished. They realize they have been a part of history—a history they have already read.

“Sennacherib” appeared in Stupefying Stories and was represented in Five Stars, an anthology of some of the earlier stories in that magazine. Get a copy here.

For a great Christmas gift to those who read, and who like vampire novels, check out Sinfonia: The First Notes on the Lute, A Vampire Chronicle, Part One. 

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

How To Write a Story: #83. Using old language and custom: "Hog Trough Dance."

A few years back I had one of those calendars that gives you a new thing every day of the year. In this case, the thing was archaic words and terms from English. Such words as “bludget” (a female thief), “pudicity” (modesty), or “boist” (bed set by a fireside for a sick person) supplied ideas, mostly for poems. One of them, "My Hog Trough Dance,” led me to write a poem with the term for a title that got published in The Dark Horse, a rather high-rated Scottish poetry journal, higher on the literary food chain that the type of journal my poems were usually included in. A hog trough dance, the calendar informed me, was an old English and American Appalachian custom where, when a woman with a older unmarried sister got married the older sister was made to dance, at the wedding, in a hog trough.

The term, and the custom it represented, intrigued me. I did some research on it and found out it is still done today. Though today, it is simply done to be funny. In olden times, I got the idea, it was done to humiliate the older sister and spur her on to get married. That was the content of the poem that appeared in The Dark Horse. I felt sympathy for a women humiliated in this way and indignation that such a misogynistic custom existed, and I expressed as much in the poem. Soon, though, I began to get the idea for a story. What if a modern did a hog-trough dance “just to be funny” but it was not so funny for the person who agreed to do it? This got the creative wheels turning. As often, such historical matters, be they archaic words or outmoded practices, can spur one on to a successful story line.

Hog Trough Dance at a Modern Wedding

The story turned out to be a flash fiction piece—under 1000 words. Flash fiction is very much in vogue today, but I don’t write a lot of it. Usually at 1000 words I’m just getting the characters nailed down. In this case, however, I wanted to see if I could write that genre and compressed the story in a small space. It worked, I think, though I have not done a flash fiction tale again and don’t plan to. It’s too restrictive for me; and I’m old school and like to develop character, do descriptions, and work toward the plot. Flash fiction does this with too much velocity, so I stay away from it.

In the story, Rita Wilson is getting married and asked her sister Genevieve to do a hog trough dance at her wedding. The sister objects:

“Is this hog trough thing supposed to make me look ridiculous because you’re younger than me and getting married before I do?”

"Ginny,” Rita said, exasperated, “it’s supposed to be funny, that’s all. Just to get laughs. If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Genevieve agrees. After all, Rita is going to jump into the pool at the place they’ve rented for the wedding—wearing her bridal dress. Why can’t her sister do the dance? It seems reasonable and will provide merriment during the reception. Genevieve plays mandolin in a bluegrass band. They are doing music at the reception. When the time comes for her to do the hog trough dance, she plays her mandolin and sings, as she dances, an old song:

I ain’t marrying’ a banker’s clerk

                        Spends all day long doin’ work.

                        I ain’t marryin’ at all, Lord,

                        I ain’t marryin’ at all.

                       

                        I ain’t marryin’ a preacher’s son

                        He won’t let me have no fun. 

                        I ain’t marryin’ at all, Lord.

                        I ain’t marryin’ at all.

She dances and sings. Then drama occurs. The hastily-assembled hog trough splits, Genevieve falls and hits her head. A doctor attending the wedding sees to her. When Rita knows her sister will be all right she kisses her, smiles, and tells her the old legend that if the hog trough breaks during the dance, the dancer will marry. “Too bad,” Genevieve replies. Later, Rita jumps off the diving board of the pool in her wedding dress, breaks the surface, stands up in the shallow end, and throws a bouquet of water-soaked flowers at the assembled guests. Ginny doesn’t try to catch it.

The story was published by a journal called Eskimo Pie. You can read it here.

For additional stories, see my Writer's Page.

A great read, the best of vampire novels, the tale of atalented, beautiful vampire who does not sparkle, is my novel, Sinfonia:  The First Notes on the Lute:  A Vampire Chronicle, Part I. Get a copy here.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy Thanksgiving (to my American readers)

Blessings to everyone.

And happy reading.

How to Write a Story: #82. Popular Culture, the Mafia, and the Past: “Tony’s”

In writing, we draw on the past, but we draw on popular culture. When the Twilight series of books about “sparkly” vampires became popular, horror magazines became flooded with vampire story submissions, so much that many of them started stipulating in their guidelines that they would not accept vampire tales. The popularity of those books influenced what manner writers wanted to produce (me too—during this time I submitted and published quite a few vampire stories). Another bit of popular culture was the HBO series The Sopranos, a gangster show, but unlike most of the films or TV programs in that genre. One critic called it a “postmodern gangster story.” Tony Soprano, leader of crime gang in New Jersey, is not your typical mob boss. He goes to a psychiatrist for counseling. He has troubles with his kids. He has to deal not just with rival gangs and the cops, but with many of the issue that affect our society today. It was a fascinating TV drama and ran for six seasons. I had never written a story about organized crime; but I did have memories from my past.

I lived in a small Midwestern city. I don’t know how active organized crime was in the city, but one man we knew because we lived next door to his aged Mother, and because my mother worked with him as an election judge, seemed to at least be a front man for it. The reason I suspected this? He owned a small pool hall about four doors down from my house on a corner near a man street. It had two pool tables inside. That was all. It was called after his first name—to keep on the Soprano theme, let’s call him Tony—and so it was “Tony’s.”

It wasn’t a fancy building:  a concrete block Quonset hut with a small parking lot to one side. The parking lot was what made me begin think something more than games of eight-ball went on there. When me and my friends would walk home from school afternoons, certain days, in the parking lot by the side of Tony’s, sat a row of cars. And not just any cars—not Chevys, Fords, Packards, or (they still made them back then) Studebakers. Parked outside this shabby little buildings were Cadillacs, Mercedes, BMWs, Lincoln Continentals—well, you get the idea. They were not the kind of cars people who went to pool halls to play eight-ball or snooker drove.

When we were young, we didn’t take much notice. But when we got to the sixth and seventh grades, the appearance of these big, fancy cars by a nondescript pool hall a in our working-class neighborhood looked suspicious. We decided it must be a front for illegal gambling. The fancy cars had to be there for a reason. And Tony was Italian. So the evidence seemed overwhelming. Whether we were right or not I don’t know. But combine this incident with the popular of The Sopranos and with all the George Raft and Jimmy Cagney films plus The Godfather—I had the makings for a story.

So in writing stories, we can combine the fictional, the speculative, and life experience. We can draw on cultural tropes like the organized crime and the Mafia. Personal experience can be woven together with fiction, speculation, adolescent fantasy, and facts (there is organized crime; it is not a myth). This gave birth and shape to my story.

I wondered what would have happened if we, as adolescent boys, had seen something that would expose the gambling ring and maybe put some of the Mafia leaders who drove in from who knows where in danger? I had recently seen Road to Perdition, a film with Tom Hanks about a small boy who sees a mob hit and becomes the target of a crime gang. If we, at age twelve and thirteen, became a threat to the Mafia, what would they do to us?

In the story, two boy walk by Tony’s and witness the aftermath of a gunfight. One man is killed, another wounded. As they gaped at the sight, they are suddenly surrounded by mob soldiers and the head of the mob. He comes over to question the boys, asking if they saw what happened. They tell him they heard noises, people shouting, thought there was a fight on, and ran over to see what was going on. Phil, the head man, seems not to believe them and they are perceptive enough to know the danger they in.

Just then, Tony shows up. He says he knows the boys, they are good boys, and they can be depended upon not to tell anyone what they witnesses. Phil seems reluctant, but he respects Tony, they’re friends, and he lets them use his place for—well, whatever it is that goes on inside. Tony says he’ll talk to them. This exchange occurs:
“Do you boys know what happened here?”

We nodded.

“You’re in trouble, but I can get you out of it. You’ll be okay.”

We did not know what to say. I felt like I might cry but didn’t think that would be good. I managed to hold it.

“I know Phil,” he continued. “He and I are friends and he respects me. I’ll get you out of this, but you can’t say anything about what you just saw—not to anyone. I mean anyone. Not to your parents, teachers, friends, brothers, sisters—no one—not a word. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

We did. We could only nod.

“I’ll talk to Phil. He’ll want to talk some more with you. It will be okay. Just be honest and give him honest answers.”

Phil reiterates what Tony told them. They must not tell anyone. They nod. Phil smiled and tells them to go on their way. They walk home. The story ends on a positive note—of sorts. This incident will haunt them for years to come. They will not feel safe. They will never know if the mob will need “protection”—that is, will protect itself by eliminating everyone who might be a witness or reveal the crime. The ending is semi-happy but also dark because it is ambiguous.

“Tony” appeared in Sparkbright, another magazine that has bit the dust and is no longer in publication.

 For further titles, see my Writer's Page.

My vampire novel, Sinfonia: The First Notes on the Lute, will soon have sequence. Get a copy of Sinfonia and be prepared to read the sequel.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

How To Write a Story: #81: Steampunk: “Appomattox”

I’ve found that in writing, exploring new genres can generate good results. I wrote fantasy and horror and some literary fiction, but I had not tried Steampunk as of yet. Steampunk is a relatively new genre. According to Wikipedia, Steampunk is "a sub-genre of science fiction or science fantasy that incorporates technology and aesthetic design inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery.” It is a world of steam engines, dirigibles, submarines, but all powered by steam with the sort of technology that propelled the Titanic rather than that of the Space Shuttle or a modern jet. Steampunk also plays with the historical time line. It may rearrange history just slightly. It may put historical figures in different roles.

The notion of writing a story always, the thing that spurs the creative impulse can come from encountering a new genre like this and exploring it. When I did, I began to get the idea that became the story “Appomattox.”

Lee Surrenders to Grant

Even if you’re not a Civil War buff, must people who know anything about that conflict know that it ended when Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Union Commander Ulysses S. Grant at the courthouse in Appomattox, Virginia on April 9, 1865. By the month of June all other active Confederate armies had surrendered as well.

I thought it would be fascinating to jumble things up, beginning with history. In my revised history Frederick Douglas wins the election of 1860 on his promise to reconcile the North and the South. He dies after only four months in office, and his Vice President, a pro-South politician named Johnson (not Andrew Johnson) takes office. Lincoln accepts the post of Secretary of War. Four years later, Lincoln is elected President and the war begins. During his term as Secretary of War, Lincoln promoted the development of technology. The Union began to produce submarines and, more importantly, airships. The South has prospered from the slave-produced cotton it sells and is confident its troops are superior fighters to those of the north. But eventually a slave revolt, led by John Brown, breaks out. It is contained but not completely quelled. Lincoln sees an opportunity to win the war when two Confederate Generals, Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson make an appointment to negotiate with him near the city of Appomattox, Virginia.

Exploring the Steampunk genre released possibilities, flurries of creative, and the chance for a unique story simply by its newness. The story flourished because it opened up new possibilities for the main elements of a story:  plot, character, narrative, setting, symbolism, and theme.

The historical figures mentioned are not the main characters of the plot. Two engineers, a man and a women, are in fact the point of view characters for the story. Mitchell Judd and Electra Koteos are a couple who have built the airships the Union army has used to win the war. Electra is a woman who defies conventions of the time.  She owns a business, is a single mother, an engineer, and a formidable woman. Once when they are on date, a robber accosts them; she pulls out a derringer and shoots him. When he first meets her she is wearing a short skirt. He stares and she explains. “Long dresses are too hot and too dangerous in a work environment such as this [the research factory she owns]. Once we were riveting some plate and the hem of my dress caught fire. I have scars on my legs from that and  since then I’ve worn this costume. It serves me well.” They marry and begin to develop technology. 

The Civil War will end in 1865 like it did in history and at the place it ended in history. Lee and Jackson are ready to negotiate. General Nathaniel Bedford Forest, however, has learned about the negotiations and sends a large army to intercept Lee and his troops. By skillful use of the airships, however, the northern forces are able to repel Forest’s army. The negotiations to end the war begin.

In writing a story, the new and the fresh are sometimes the path to increased creativity. You might want to try a different genre:  if you write horror, try a fantasy story; if you write fantasy, explore the genre of literary fiction—or steampunk or cyberpunk, dieselpunk (a lot of punks floating around out there) or science fiction. It opens doors and gives shape to new thinking and new ideas.

“Appomattox” appeared in an anthology titled Conquest Through Determination. It was published by Pill Hill Press, which has closed, and the book is, sadly, unavailable—though when I checked Amazon there are copies of it offered for $500.00 (I'm not joking, that’s what it says—the people who priced the books must be joking).

For additional titles, check out my Writer's Page.

A great Christmas gift for readers of vampire stories is Sinfonia: The First Notes on the Lute, A Vampire Chronicle, Part One. The Sequel, Sinfonia:  A Painted Lady, A Vampire Chronicle, Part Two will be available for Christmas.

Happy reading, happy writing.