If you have read CHORUS OF THE DEAD, or even if you just read the preview, you probably noticed the verses I put at the beginning of each chapter. In the literary world it's called a literary device, when authors use quotes to introduce a chapter or book.
I spent a good deal of time looking for an appropriate literary device for my books. I perused anatomy books of the day (Gray's Anatomy was just published) but nothing seemed to fit. I tried to find information about a prominent surgeon who may have written about his scientific findings or other such useful pamphlet but I had little luck. Nothing was catching my fancy. I was almost resigned to not use anything at all until one week before my book was to go 'live' it hit me. Months earlier, in my research of Victorian England, morgues and the work of a surgeon, I found a poem titled "The Bridge of Sighs" by Thomas Hood. It is a remarkable poem but like most of my findings I had no immediate need of it and kept researching.
While giving the search for a literary device on last desperate try I came across "The Bridge of Sighs" yet again and realized it was perfect. With careful selection I divided the poem up into couplets and/or versus and was amazed how well they fit with my story.
I used the segments in order in the book but here's the poem in it's entirety, unbroken and smooth.
The Bridge of Sighs
One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly
Young, and so fair!
Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.
Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonour,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family—
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily.
Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?
Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?
Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?
Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
O, it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.
Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.
The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurl'd—
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!
In she plunged boldly—
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it—think of it,
Dissolute Man!
Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,
Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!
Dreadfully staring
Thro' muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix'd on futurity.
Perishing gloomily,
Spurr'd by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.—
Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!
Thomas Hood
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Peter the Wild Boy
History is filled with a countless number of real life mysteries. And nothing stirs the imagination more than gaping holes in the facts. The case of Peter the Wild Boy is one of those mysteries that can never be completely solved.
Peter was found roaming feral in the northern woods of Germany near the legendary town of Hamelin. He walked on all fours, lived off flora and fauna and never learned to speak a language. No one knows where the boy came from, how he came to be living alone in the woods and no parents or family members ever came forward.
At a young age Peter was brought to England under the order of King George I, who had taken a keen liking for the novelty that would become Peter the Wild boy. Peter lived amongst courtiers under a veil of curiosity and amusement. Used as entertainment, the court's interest in Peter wore off and after some unsuccessful attempts to school him, he eventually was placed at Broadway Farm in Axter's End. The British government provided a 35 pound annual pension to the farmer to assist with his room and board.
It was here that Peter could roam amongst the wilderness similar to his youth. Finally free of fancy dress and etiquette rules he spent a lot of time in the woods and would often sleep under the stars. He did happen to wander too far once and ended up in a nearby prison. He was claimed by the farmers charged with his care and they subsequently fastened a collar on him, on which was inscribed his name and address should he ever go missing again.
Peter died at what many believe to be the age of 70, since there is no known record of his birth. He was buried at St. Mary's Church in Northchurch where his headstone remains. Flowers are often seen at his grave site to this day.
Lucy Worsely, a well known British museum curator and television personality, has made a lovely segment dedicated to Peter and his legacy.
Peter was found roaming feral in the northern woods of Germany near the legendary town of Hamelin. He walked on all fours, lived off flora and fauna and never learned to speak a language. No one knows where the boy came from, how he came to be living alone in the woods and no parents or family members ever came forward.
At a young age Peter was brought to England under the order of King George I, who had taken a keen liking for the novelty that would become Peter the Wild boy. Peter lived amongst courtiers under a veil of curiosity and amusement. Used as entertainment, the court's interest in Peter wore off and after some unsuccessful attempts to school him, he eventually was placed at Broadway Farm in Axter's End. The British government provided a 35 pound annual pension to the farmer to assist with his room and board.
It was here that Peter could roam amongst the wilderness similar to his youth. Finally free of fancy dress and etiquette rules he spent a lot of time in the woods and would often sleep under the stars. He did happen to wander too far once and ended up in a nearby prison. He was claimed by the farmers charged with his care and they subsequently fastened a collar on him, on which was inscribed his name and address should he ever go missing again.
Peter died at what many believe to be the age of 70, since there is no known record of his birth. He was buried at St. Mary's Church in Northchurch where his headstone remains. Flowers are often seen at his grave site to this day.
Lucy Worsely, a well known British museum curator and television personality, has made a lovely segment dedicated to Peter and his legacy.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Historic Finds
As a historical writer I spend a lot of time researching. If you are a history buff like me it is easy to know and find information on the big things; wars, social rules, political structures, and even the climate of commerce. Non-fiction history books abound about the life of royals, the battles fought in wars and even interesting court cases throughout time but what is not so easy to find are the little details. In my view it's the little details that make all the difference with regards to a historical book or movie. Now that's not to say the little details should be a starring role, absolutely not, but little things intertwine together to form a three dimensional view of the world we are trying to escape to.
Most historical writers place heavy emphasis on research. We often hear that readers are brutal when it comes to historical accuracy and so it serves us well to get our facts right. But what if I am in the middle of a chapter, nay a sentence when it hits me, what kind of card game would they be playing? What types of buildings would my character be looking at right now? What headline would be on the paper that day? It's small details but ones that I want to include so my readers can feel like they are really there with my characters.
I ran into a wall recently in regards to research as I was trying to find information on bathing facilities. Because the Victorian era is a great time of change and progress the answer would be different for different types of houses. A country house, even a country manor house would be considered very primitive compared to some middle class houses in the city. It all depends on exact dates, the street or town or residence and the financial resources available to the family who lives there. Disregarding any of these key elements and the detail will not ring true.
But I came across an invaluable tool the other day that knocked my socks off. As many know I am writing a series set in Victorian London, and as much as I adore London and read about it there are details that get lost in books and essays. One of them is social class for certain districts and neighbourhoods. We all know the big ones, the poorest of the poor (Whitechapel) and the richest of the rich (Belgravia) but what about in between. I know many writers who would just come up with a name and plug it in. Not me. I want people to identify my stories with a genuine possibility they could be real. So I had to know where the middle class families would live, and this would help me pick an address for one of my secondary characters. Enter stage right; the internet. An invaluable resource for the modern historian.
I found a lovely site, London Street Origins, that outline the history of street names and neighbourhoods. Not all street names are listed here but a lot are and some are just filled with British history. I also found a interactive map that has been digitized from 1889 colour coded drawings outlining neighbourhood class and poverty levels. This was fascinating to look over and I nearly got completely sidetracked from my writing. The maps are called Charles Booth's 1889 London Poverty Maps and they are amazing. Just click on the section of the grid you want to explore and voilà, you can also zoom in for a closer look. I am so thankful Mr. Booth provided us with this amazing resource with which to gather a true picture of London's streets.
So in my quest for a neighbourhood, I used Mr. Booth's map to find a place within walking distance to the original St. Thomas hospital, but it must be a middle class dwelling. Thanks to his colour coding it was a synch. I found a street, did a search on London Street origins and then went to Google Maps to "walk" the neighbourhood to get a feeling for the architecture, and all from the comfort of my home here in Canada. It may seem like a lot of work for one of those small details but to me it's worth it if it gives authenticity to my writing. Beside with the Internet making history so accessible it's much easier than it use to be. We live in a great age.
I ran into a wall recently in regards to research as I was trying to find information on bathing facilities. Because the Victorian era is a great time of change and progress the answer would be different for different types of houses. A country house, even a country manor house would be considered very primitive compared to some middle class houses in the city. It all depends on exact dates, the street or town or residence and the financial resources available to the family who lives there. Disregarding any of these key elements and the detail will not ring true.
But I came across an invaluable tool the other day that knocked my socks off. As many know I am writing a series set in Victorian London, and as much as I adore London and read about it there are details that get lost in books and essays. One of them is social class for certain districts and neighbourhoods. We all know the big ones, the poorest of the poor (Whitechapel) and the richest of the rich (Belgravia) but what about in between. I know many writers who would just come up with a name and plug it in. Not me. I want people to identify my stories with a genuine possibility they could be real. So I had to know where the middle class families would live, and this would help me pick an address for one of my secondary characters. Enter stage right; the internet. An invaluable resource for the modern historian.
I found a lovely site, London Street Origins, that outline the history of street names and neighbourhoods. Not all street names are listed here but a lot are and some are just filled with British history. I also found a interactive map that has been digitized from 1889 colour coded drawings outlining neighbourhood class and poverty levels. This was fascinating to look over and I nearly got completely sidetracked from my writing. The maps are called Charles Booth's 1889 London Poverty Maps and they are amazing. Just click on the section of the grid you want to explore and voilà, you can also zoom in for a closer look. I am so thankful Mr. Booth provided us with this amazing resource with which to gather a true picture of London's streets.
So in my quest for a neighbourhood, I used Mr. Booth's map to find a place within walking distance to the original St. Thomas hospital, but it must be a middle class dwelling. Thanks to his colour coding it was a synch. I found a street, did a search on London Street origins and then went to Google Maps to "walk" the neighbourhood to get a feeling for the architecture, and all from the comfort of my home here in Canada. It may seem like a lot of work for one of those small details but to me it's worth it if it gives authenticity to my writing. Beside with the Internet making history so accessible it's much easier than it use to be. We live in a great age.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
I was interviewed by fellow author Kristi Belcamino and it appears today on her blog.
Kristi Belcamino's blog
Come on over and learn more about my writing life.
Kristi Belcamino's blog
Come on over and learn more about my writing life.
Friday, July 13, 2012
CHORUS OF THE DEAD now available on Kindle!
My long anticipated novel, CHORUS OF THE DEAD, is now available on Kindle. Within a few days or so it should also be available on Kobo and other electronic reading formats.
I started writing this book two years ago, right when my family was beginning what would turn out to be a long house hunting journey. I finished the first draft in November of 2011 and I have spent the last 8 months revising, editing, revising and editing some more in an effort to produce the best possible book I could.
Peter Ainsley is the type of protagonist every author dreams of working with. His personality is so full I often feel like he is a real person and I am just relaying his tales that really did take place many years ago. He's slightly arrogant, a bit of a drinker and can often become so engrossed with his work that he loses sight of what others around him are telling him. At constant odds with his father, Ainsley can become quick to anger and lashes out at those he cares about. In all honesty, Ainsley is simply a passionate man. He adores his sister, Margaret and their mother. He abhors his family's fortune and tries to distance himself from it whenever possible. He has focus and determination which makes him an excellent surgeon but a poor friend.
Margaret Marshall, Ainsley's sister, is a fire cracker in her own right. Inheriting inner strength from her mother and an aura nobility from her father, Margaret brings grace, beauty and a feminine touch to Ainsley's cases. She struggles for relevance in the 19th century world and finds herself easily drawn where her heart leads. She helps temper Ainsley's passion and provides a sounding board for his questions. Thanks to her sheltered upbringing, her innocence often gets her in trouble but she is still somewhat young and over the years I see her developing into a strong female character with faith, love and beauty.
CHORUS OF THE DEAD is the first book in what I hope becomes a long saga chronicling the lives of both Ainsley and Margaret as they navigate the two worlds in which they live; the high society of London's elite, and the dark impoverished alleys of London's worst neighbourhoods. Join me on a journey that begins with book one.
I started writing this book two years ago, right when my family was beginning what would turn out to be a long house hunting journey. I finished the first draft in November of 2011 and I have spent the last 8 months revising, editing, revising and editing some more in an effort to produce the best possible book I could.
Peter Ainsley is the type of protagonist every author dreams of working with. His personality is so full I often feel like he is a real person and I am just relaying his tales that really did take place many years ago. He's slightly arrogant, a bit of a drinker and can often become so engrossed with his work that he loses sight of what others around him are telling him. At constant odds with his father, Ainsley can become quick to anger and lashes out at those he cares about. In all honesty, Ainsley is simply a passionate man. He adores his sister, Margaret and their mother. He abhors his family's fortune and tries to distance himself from it whenever possible. He has focus and determination which makes him an excellent surgeon but a poor friend.
Margaret Marshall, Ainsley's sister, is a fire cracker in her own right. Inheriting inner strength from her mother and an aura nobility from her father, Margaret brings grace, beauty and a feminine touch to Ainsley's cases. She struggles for relevance in the 19th century world and finds herself easily drawn where her heart leads. She helps temper Ainsley's passion and provides a sounding board for his questions. Thanks to her sheltered upbringing, her innocence often gets her in trouble but she is still somewhat young and over the years I see her developing into a strong female character with faith, love and beauty.
CHORUS OF THE DEAD is the first book in what I hope becomes a long saga chronicling the lives of both Ainsley and Margaret as they navigate the two worlds in which they live; the high society of London's elite, and the dark impoverished alleys of London's worst neighbourhoods. Join me on a journey that begins with book one.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Sneak Peek for CHORUS OF THE DEAD
Less than one month until release but I have decided to give everyone a sneak peek of chapter one before it's ready for sale. Feel free to leave comments and tell me what you think here, on Facebook or Scribd. Thanks!
Chapter One Preview Chorus of the Dead
Chapter One Preview Chorus of the Dead
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
A Case of WhoDunIt
For anyone who knows me, knows I collect cats. I had a mind to collect kids but after two I switched to cats. I have four now and as much as I love the psychotic dears every once in a while they do something so completely vexing that ultimately brings my normally scheduled programming to a halt. Like the time the fluffy one decided to dip it's tail into a lit candle as he walked by, or the time the pair of kittens scaled the curtains and got stuck halfway up.
Last week was another chapter in my tumultuous relationship with my crazy cats. It all began when I spent a late night feverishly editing Chorus of the Dead telling myself I could sleep when my laptop battery life died. When my computer finally shut down I gave a sigh of relief and went to bed. I think it was about one in the morning.
At sun up I was at it once again but my laptop would not turn on. It's less than a year old but if something were to go terribly wrong it would be during the most crazy, chaotic time in my writing career so far. After careful inspection I found the culprit, a shredded power cord with wisps of gray fur as my only evidence**.
A cat had decided my power cord would make a lovely midnight snack but then a few bites in decided plastic was not all it was cracked up to be and must have moved on to something else. Howevere, the damage was done and there I was with a completely drained battery, a halfway edited final version of Chorus of the Dead and no way to get it done without electricity.
It took over a week and half for the new power cord to arrive in the mail and each nail biting day threatening to be a feline's last. I have yet to discern which cat is responsible but I am sure with time and a few more sessions of water boarding one of them will let the cat out of the bag. Until then however I will guard my new power cord with my life and make regular offerings to the postal gods for saving my tail.
Have no fear, dear readers, Chorus of the Dead is coming soon!
** I made up the part about the evidence of gray fur. I'm a writer, what do you want?
"I'm working on my tan."
Last week was another chapter in my tumultuous relationship with my crazy cats. It all began when I spent a late night feverishly editing Chorus of the Dead telling myself I could sleep when my laptop battery life died. When my computer finally shut down I gave a sigh of relief and went to bed. I think it was about one in the morning.
At sun up I was at it once again but my laptop would not turn on. It's less than a year old but if something were to go terribly wrong it would be during the most crazy, chaotic time in my writing career so far. After careful inspection I found the culprit, a shredded power cord with wisps of gray fur as my only evidence**.
A cat had decided my power cord would make a lovely midnight snack but then a few bites in decided plastic was not all it was cracked up to be and must have moved on to something else. Howevere, the damage was done and there I was with a completely drained battery, a halfway edited final version of Chorus of the Dead and no way to get it done without electricity.
"I'll never confess."
It took over a week and half for the new power cord to arrive in the mail and each nail biting day threatening to be a feline's last. I have yet to discern which cat is responsible but I am sure with time and a few more sessions of water boarding one of them will let the cat out of the bag. Until then however I will guard my new power cord with my life and make regular offerings to the postal gods for saving my tail.
Have no fear, dear readers, Chorus of the Dead is coming soon!
** I made up the part about the evidence of gray fur. I'm a writer, what do you want?
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