On beginning (again) with Sarah Waters

by Sandra Gulland | May 17, 2019 | Adventures of a Writing Life, Mistress of the Sun, Resources for

Writers, The Josephine B. Trilogy, The Writing Process, Work in Process (WIP) |
In Canada, I have a tall narrow bookcase of books—one of many I have in our
house. This one includes poetry, novels I’m either reading or would like to
read, and an embarrassing number of books on writing. I am a collector,
apparently, a collector of books on writing.
This morning, as I was drinking my delicious mug of decaf, I took three black
binders down from the top shelf. I was curious: what were they?
One was a collection of printouts of writing exercises by the New York
agent Donald Maass. Another, a thick, heavy binder, was labelled Truby. In it
were printouts from master story guru John Truby. I have a lot of Truby—
including a series of tapes and his book The Anatomy of Story (which
overwhelms me at the first chapter every time I open it). I recalled that at one
time Truby offered interactive story analysis on his website; I think it was free,
an amazing offering. All the printouts were from his website.
The third binder, labelled Story Tools, was of a middling size. The first page
was a list of Sarah Waters’ instructions on how to write a historical novel. Her
wise words are no longer online—at least not that I can find—so here it is, my
gift to you. (Click here to see the full pdf.)

In the corner I had written: 6 mos min to write 180,000 words.

I wondered when I had written that note. The second page in the binder gave a
clue.
Notes before putting away.
I must have written this after I’d been offered a contract to write
the Josephine B. Trilogy. Several months before I had finally completed an
acceptable draft of The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B., the first
novel in the Trilogy. While my agent was looking for a publisher, I had started
work on what was to become, nearly two decades later, Mistress of the Sun. On
signing a contract for a trilogy, I reluctantly put the project away.
So: all this was Very Long Ago, as I was setting out on this 32-years-and-
counting writing adventure.
Sarah Waters’ advice on how to write a historical novel is a treasure. I’ll be
returning to it.

The photo at top is of Sarah Waters, 2010, by Sam Jones, as seen in the article
in the Guardian on Sarah Waters’ 10 rules for writers (rules which are, of
course, spot on).
Subscribe to my newsletter and get a chance to
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Josephine B. Trilogy
by Sandra Gulland | Feb 27, 2018 | Adventures of a Writing Life |
 
I’ve a newsletter about to go out, and I want to remind my wonderful readers
who aren’t on my newsletter mailing list that you’re missing a chance to win
 one of my books — or (for the first time!) win an Audible edition of the
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Wonderful early reviews for The Book of Hope
Some readers have received an Advance Readers Copy (an “ARC”) of The Book
of Hope, or read a free copy on NetGalley. It’s not possible for them to post
reviews on Amazon until publication day, but it is possible to post a review on
GoodReads and NetGalley.
It’s exciting (and anxious-making) to see early reviews coming in.
My favourite so far is this one from Chelsea M. on NetGalley:
“Loved this read! It had me hooked!” 
Swoon. That’s the best review a book can get, in my opinion. Thank you,
Chelsea M., whoever you are.
Beta reader love
Here is a photo of one of my wonderful Beta Readers, Vanessa Van Decker,
with the Canadian ARC of The Book of Hope.
 
Vanessa wrote that she was moved to tears to see the book. I myself was
moved to tears to see the photo (above) of her smiling face with The Game of
Hope in her hand.
Readers are so very special, and my team of young Beta Readers who read and
commented on the early drafts of this novel were absolutely amazing.
An idea
Early readers: send me a selfie with The Game of Hope and I’ll post it to my
website. A photo of the chocolate madeleines you make would be extra special.
:-)
Why pre-order?
Pre-orders inform a publisher that the book is going to sell well, which
publishers in turn communicate to bookstores. In short: it’s a very nice thing
fans can do to help both a book and an author.
 Amazon.ca (due out May 1, in time for Mother’s Day, hint, hint :-)
 Amazon.com (due out June 26, in time for summer reading :-)
For more buying options, click here.
Hilary Mantel: on “opening up the past”
by Sandra Gulland | Oct 19, 2015 | Adventures of a Writing Life, Resources for Readers, The Writing
Process |
Dove Grey Reader, a delightful UK literary blogger—”a Devonshire based
bookaholic, sock-knitting quilter who was a community nurse once upon a
time”—has said that she feels fortunate to live as a contemporary of Hilary
Mantel: “… perhaps this is how the Victorians felt about George Eliot or Dickens…”
That’s a wonderful thought. There are times when I think I would do well
simply to immerse myself in the work of Hilary Mantel, as well as the books she
has found enlightening.
There are many video interviews of Hilary Mantel on YouTube. I love this
one especially, where she talks about “opening up the past.”

The amazing “photo” at top is by Flóra Borsi. It expresses, for me, the depth of
what one might learn by immersion in the work of someone like Hilary
Mantel.
 
On process and research—an interview with
Beth Powning, author of A Measure of Light
by Sandra Gulland | Mar 9, 2015 | Adventures of a Writing Life |
I had the honour to be asked to read a pre-publication copy of A Measure of
Light by Canadian author Beth Powning. She’s already an award-winning
author, and—frankly—I won’t be surprised if this novel doesn’t garner more. It
certainly held me captive and in awe.
Here’s the testimonial I offered:
A Measure of Light by Beth Powning is a spellbinding work of biographical
historical fiction, gorgeously written in spare, crystalline prose I found
reminiscent of the finest writers of literary historical fiction today. (Geraldine
Brooks, Tracy Chevalier and Hilary Mantel come to mind.) A brilliant
evocation of 17th century England and America, it’s the story of one woman’s
search for faith and the horrific sacrifices she makes once she finds it. Grim
yet luminous—as well as illuminating. In a word: enchanting.
Believe me, I am rarely so effusive.

As I was reading the novel, I had questions about the author’s research and
writing process, so I was extremely pleased when Beth accepted my invitation
to answer a few questions here.

What were the unique challenges in writing about Mary Dyer?

When I first “met” Mary Dyer, I found her actions disturbing, even repellent.
How could a mother leave six children for a five year period? Why would she
return to them and then dedicate herself to a cause, thus once again removing
herself from them? And how on earth could Mary walk into the jaws of death?
Often, what outrages me is like a shiny lure. I could not turn away from Mary’s
story, and I realized that I had to find common cause with her: to put myself in
her place, try to understand. I learned that it was common for 17th century
parents to “farm out” their children with other families. I learned that the
Puritans taught parents not to love their children “too much,” else they offend
the Lord. And it occurred to me that it was very possible that Mary suffered
post-partum depression. I began to understand the depth of Mary’s inner
darkness and the consequent power of George Fox’s “measure of light.”
Telling her story became a kind of psychological mystery, a who-dun-it, where
I knew the ending, but had to trace the steps leading up to it.
Reading A MEASURE OF LIGHT, I was in awe of the wonderful
details of daily life.
Anne lifted bread on a peel from a beehive oven at the side of a hearth. The
tiny girl turned a crisp-skinned goose, hanging on a string before the fire.
Bloody gut-smell stung Mary’s nose—white hen feathers stippled the floor.
(Page 39.)
I’d love to know specifics about your research process, specifically
with respect to daily life. What did you find most useful? How
did you keep track of it all?
Writing the first draft of a historical novel is a slow process. When I write, I
visualize a scene in its entirety. I imagine myself, in a visceral way, to be there;
I see, smell, hear. I find it hard to proceed with the writing until I have all
these elements in place. Therefore, I must maintain a complex mental balance.
I am thinking about the undercurrent of the scene, its meaning and
contribution to the novel’s whole; I am working on character, who is there and
what they are saying and feeling; I’m conscious of the pacing of both the scene
itself and its placement within the text—yet I also need to know whether
there’s a fire on the hearth; if the room is lit, and by what; whether there are
shadows; what is cooking in what kind of a pot over the flames; if I can hear
the rumble of wheels or the neighing of horses.
I had two invaluable books for the details of daily life in the colonies. “Home
Life in Colonial Days,” by Alice Morse Earle, was written in 1898. Amazingly,
Alice Earle could tap into the living memory of the elders of her time, who still
recalled how things used to be. Another book was “Every Day Life in the
Massachusetts Bay Colony,” by George Francis Dow. For England, I used a
marvelous book first published in 1615, “The English Housewife,” by Gervase
Markham, filled with recipes and home-making instructions.
I had a few other excellent books about 17th century England. If they could not
provide what I needed about details of daily life, I would search the internet.
I have an old-fashioned filing cabinet. In its pull-out drawers, I made major
sections like England, New England, London, Puritans, 17th Century General.
Within each of the sections, I placed paper files labelled gloves, writing
implements, tools, money, jails. I also kept a virtual file on my computer’s
bookmarks page, with links to websites. I used both systems, paper and
computer, all the time.
I have a large cabinet in my study. In it is a shelf earmarked for books about
Puritans, another for the Quakers, one for English history, etc. These shelves
gradually filled with books that I either bought on-line or in 2nd hand
bookstores. Library books, too, were parked there.
Spiral-bound notebooks fill with “notes on plot,” “notes on character.” As I
write, every draft gets its own notebook— “Notes Chp. 1, draft 2;” “Notes Chp.
2, draft 3.” There are notebooks for editorial conversations.
It might sound chaotic, but in fact I keep my office highly organized. I have to
be able to find all this stuff, without wasting time rummaging around for it!
Do you plot? How many drafts? When do you research?
In my last two novels (The Hatbox Letters,  The Sea Captain’s Wife) I dove in
without knowing where the novel would go. A Measure of Light  is a true story,
but since only the ending and some of the middle of Mary’s life are known, I
had to work backwards. I made up Mary’s early story. Even so, I didn’t know
exactly how it was all going to unfold. That happens as I write. I didn’t know
about Sinny, for example, until I began to write. Then I had to pause and make
up Sinny’s back-story. I love not knowing what is going to happen.
I show the first draft of every novel to my extraordinary agent, Jackie Kaiser.
Jackie always provides superb feedback at this point, and my second draft is
quite different from the first. There is invariably a third draft, which is perhaps
the most difficult, because I think that I “got” it in the second. (But no!) Jackie
doesn’t show my novel to my publishers until the 3rd draft is complete. The
4th draft is the one I make based on the comments from my editor. (Craig
Pyette for A Measure of Light.) I had already done a lot of work before Craig
saw this manuscript, but even so he had a great deal of brilliant advice. So
substantive changes were made. Together with Craig, I worked through the
novel about six more times. The changes, of course, get smaller and smaller. I
suppose you can call those drafts, because a slightly changed novel emerges
each time; but really, after the 5th draft, the novel is basically “there.”
I start with the research. I read and read and read. I underline in books that I
own, take notes from library books; it’s just as if I were back in university,
taking a history course. As I study, ideas come to me about how I will
transform these facts into fiction. I keep track of my thoughts in a notebook.
There is always a moment when the longing to transform the information into
a rich, living story becomes acute, and I simply begin to write. Too MUCH
research can kill the novel. I become intimidated by the sheer volume of
information that exists about the period, and strangely depressed by the
historian’s objective voice.
A MEASURE OF LIGHT traverses many places, and over a
considerable stretch of time: London (1634-1635), Boston (from
1635 to 1638), Aquidneck (from 1638 to 1651), England (from 1651
to 1655), New England (from 1657 to 1660). 
Even so, it is a fairly spare novel, under 300 pages. How did you
grapple with all the shifts in time and place?
Although I don’t plot, I did in fact block out the time periods before beginning.
I begin at the beginning, and remain in each time and place until that section’s
story is told, writing as much or as little of it as I think is needed. The first
section, “London,” was, of course, enormous (SO much information, such a
rich period!) and was heavily cut. The next, “Boston,”was the most difficult,
since so many crucial things happened in that period, most of them necessary
to understanding the rest of Mary’s story. The other periods grew or shrank
during the editing process. A section which took place in Barbados was
completely cut.
During the early drafts, when I realize that some parts of the story
will take place over a long period of time without a lot happening, I simply
write a few paragaphs indicating the passage of time and go on. Then I return
later and fill it in. As a novel progresses, what comes later effects what came
before, and vice versa. It’s like kneading dough. You fold and turn and fold
again, working all the elements into one loaf, so to speak!
I always make a time chart, too. It’s a long roll of paper. Along the top are the
characters, with their dates of birth. Along the left are the years. So in 1637,
say, you can see at a glance what everyone in the novel is doing, how old they
are, where they’re situated. I include a column down the left-hand side for
historical events, so you can also remember what’s going on in the world. This
is done with pencil and paper, not on the computer.
Your prose is wonderfully rich in similes.
Her heart had been smoothed like sand with the waters of other women’s
assurances … (page 21)
They did not speak to one another, as if the leaf-scented air was itself a flux
binding peace and could be broken by the merest whisper. (Page 76.)
She put fresh wood on the fire and sat reading her Bible in its light, looking up
from the pages occasionally, as if listening for a voice she might trust. (Page
116.)
Clearly, you have a poet’s heart. I hesitate to ask about technique,
yet I am curious.
I make them up myself. It’s how my brain works, so in fact I am constantly
“shutting down” similes. The book could easily have far, far too many. They
rise like bubbles slanting through…oops, there I go. In fact, I do work very
hard to get them right. I sit with my face in my hands and search my memory
bank. One of the things I say to myself is: how is it really. And then: think
sideways. What does the bark of an ancient spruce tree REALLY look like?
How does it feel to the tips of the fingers? Is there something I can compare it
to that will bring this alive for the reader? This, again, is why writing is a
balancing act. I’m dwelling on this problem, aware that it is only a beat or two
in a large symphony.
“Think sideways”—I like that. Thank you so much, Beth! 
I was delighted that Beth mentioned the work of Gervase Markham. When I
was researching Mistress of the Sun, I became so absorbed in The Compleat
Horseman—his work on horsemanship—that I began “translating” it into
modern English.
Here is the publisher’s description of Beth’s wonderful novel:
Set in 1600s New England, A Measure of Light tells the story of Mary Dyer, a
Puritan who flees persecution in Elizabethan England only to find the Puritan
establishment in Massachusetts every bit as vicious as the one she has left
behind. One of America’s first Quakers, and among the last to face the gallows
for her convictions, Mary Dyer receives here in fiction the full-blooded
treatment too long denied a figure of her stature: a woman caught between
faith, family and the driving sense that she alone will put right a deep and
cruel wrong in the world. This is gripping historical fiction about a courageous
woman who chafed at the power of theocracies and the boundaries of her era,
struggling against a backdrop of imminent apocalypse for women’s rights,
liberty of conscience, intellectual freedom and justice.
I highly recommend it!
 How does my work differ from other work in
its genre? Question #3 in the Writers’ Blog
Tour
by Sandra Gulland | Jul 12, 2014 | Adventures of a Writing Life, The Writing Process |
I explained in an earlier post what the Writers’ Blog Tour is about. Basically,
writers answer the same four questions: 
 Why do I write what I do?
 What am I working on?
 How does my work differ from other work in its genre?
 How does my writing process work?
I’ve answered the first and second questions this week, and so, for today, here’s
the third:
How does my work differ from other work in its
genre?
This is an interesting question.
In one respect I am clearly different from my fellow historical fiction writers:
I’m slow. But that isn’t the thrust of the question.
I aspire to write literary historical fiction, simply because that’s what I love
best to read, but I’m also committed to writing fiction that’s accessible and
compelling. (I hope.) My “voice” is perhaps more simple than that of
most writers of historical fiction. I’m a fan of plain speaking and try to pare my
work down. I’d like to be witty, but I don’t have that kind of brain. I think that
my novels are just a little comic, and I tend to go light on political and military
history. I am much more interested in daily life, specifically the lives of
women.
The next and last question on the Tour is a big one: How does my writing
process work?
Once up, I’ll hand the baton to  Lauren B. Davis (author of Our Daily
Bread and The Empty Room, for starters) and Catherine McKenzie (author
of Forgotten, Hidden, and Spin). 
I’m enjoying this Tour.
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