My Writing Mentors

Livy (3) - Livius

Titus Livius–a great historian

[Let’s see how much I can get done before taking Robbie to the vet.]

It might be asked of me, “Hey, you’ve got a book to write! What the dickens are you doing, sitting there and reading Livy?”

For those who don’t know, Livy, aka Titus Livius, was an historian who lived in Augustus’ Caesar’s time and wrote a history of Rome going all the way back to the beginning. I read the edition published in several volumes by Penguin Books. Livy was suspected of having republican sentiments at a time when maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have them; but as Augustus himself often said, “I’m a republican at heart,” he was hardly likely to persecute Livy for sharing them.

When I’m working on a book, it helps me a lot to select another writer as my mentor. For my previous book, Ozias, Prince in Peril, my mentor was Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose History of the Kings of Britain (including King Arthur), was a runaway best-seller… in the 12th century!

Now I’m writing Ozias, Prince Enthroned, and Livy has stepped forward as my mentor. Not that I’m imitating him; rather, I see in his work an inspiration for my own. Livy wrote real history, while I have to invent a history for a fantasy world. His vivid descriptions and keen analysis of early Rome’s one-after-another social, political, and military crises suggest to me the kinds of things that King Ozias would have to deal with. How should he respond to crisis? Livy knows! In fact, he knows about not only successful responses, but also failures.

Prince Enthroned is going forward rather slowly, from my end; but my editor, having read my most recent set of chapters, says “You’ve got your foot on the gas pedal, haven’t you?” I take that as encouragement.

I now suspect that maybe the Lord wants me to slow down a little. Okay. I’ll try that. A good book is worth taking risks for. Not to mention the abundant distractions we’ve had this year: Patty’s hernia, new computer, refrigerator dies and we lose a raft of frozen food, and my accident that badly damaged Patty’s car, and now Robbie’s sick. Oh–and tons and tons of really bad weather, lots of workdays lost.

So I hope it’s sunny and clear tomorrow, and that Robbie will get better, and that I can start another set of chapters. For “hope” read “pray.”

King Ozias’ To-Do List

King arthur hi-res stock photography and images - Alamy

A medieval wing-ding

I toiled stoically in the sun all day yesterday, getting King Ozias crowned. (Note to aspiring young writers: it’s times like this when you have to make a very tricky decision as to how much detail you should include in the picture.) I finally managed it, setting the table for the coronation feast, today’s assignment.

Looking to Geoffrey of Monmouth, who at least lived in the Middle Ages and wrote about King Arthur, I do have some idea of what these rituals are supposed to look like, and what they mean. But I also know, and you don’t need Geoffrey of Monmouth to tell you about it, something always goes wrong. 

Ozias’ feast is at its height, now he’s granting boons… and nobody knows there are serious party-poopers waiting in the wings. Seven of them, all bearing bad news. The captain of the guard should never have let them in.

(Don’t forget to write your Newswithviews column!)

Meanwhile, I have an interesting piece for you from Mark Rushdoony…

 

Associate Producer: Geoffrey of Monmouth

Geoffrey of Monmouth | The Historian's Hut

One of the great challenges, and pleasures, of writing a fantasy novel is to invent a world that doesn’t exist and describe it in such a way that the reader can believe in it. Temporarily, at least. Permanently, that’s another story.

For inspiration I look to the Bible and to history. And one of the historians who’s just come aboard to help is Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose History of the Kings of Britain was the best-seller of the 12th century.

Geoffrey has long been accused of dealing in myths, legends, tall tales, twaddle, and bald-faced lies–just like they do to Herodotus. Every now and then archaeologists turn up something that shows that Herodotus wasn’t fibbing, after all. The same with Geoffrey.

Say what you will about him, Geoffrey of Monmouth could really spin a yarn. No one better. But I wouldn’t try to copy him.

No–what these senior colleagues, storytellers emeritus, do for me is to help me find a tone for the story that I’m telling–and for its setting. You want the reader to feel like he’s been there. And maybe was lucky to get home again.

Geoffrey writes about things that happened 500 to 1,000 years before his own time. He writes from a 12th century point of view. This is very valuable to me. The difference between us is, Geoffrey really did live in the 1100s and see things as a 12th century man would see them; but my setting is fictional, so I look to Geoffrey for pointers on setting a tone for his story. What kind of world is he writing about, and how can the reader enter it? Ditto for me.

And of course the writer can’t help wondering, “Have I done it right, this time?”

‘In Search of Merlin’ (2017)

See the source image

It’s the last day of the year, New Year’s Eve–and Merlin has been on my mind. Maybe because so many pictures make him look like Father Time. A lot of people think of him as some kind of Druid sorceror, which almost certainly was not the case. But whatever else he was, Merlin presents us with a historical mystery. But then the whole 5th-6th centuries are rich in mystery.

In Search of Merlin

I study Merlin in the works of scholar Norma Lorre Goodrich, who every now and then breaks into the most incredible assertions without the least effort made to back them up. Take her with a wheelbarrow full of salt.

Merlin’s lifetime saw Christianity in Britain pushed nearly to extinction, only to come back and conquer.

Think about that. It’s a good time for thinking about that.

 

Killing Uduqu

The Glass Bridge (Bell Mountain #7): Lee Duigon: 9781891375675 ...

If your characters don’t connect with your readers, your book won’t work, your story will fall flat.

I introduced the fierce old Abnak sub-chief, Uduqu, in Book No. 2, The Cellar Beneath the Cellar. I liked him and kept him around. And in Book No. 7, The Glass Bridge, he took part in a desperate battle.

I won’t forget how my wife and my editor reacted when they thought I’d killed off this character. They were about ready to scalp me. Sheesh, what was I thinking! But they only had to read a few more paragraphs before they learned Uduqu was all right, after all.

There are characters who walk into the story just to do some little thing and then wind up staying to do a lot of things, and growing, and getting you attached to them. With 12 Bell Mountain novels published so far, there are of necessity an awful lot of characters.

Why am I talking about this when I have to crank out a Newswithviews column? Oh, I don’t know. Do I feel a need to justify populating my books with all those characters?

Well, heck, it’s a history–like Livy’s history of Rome. Count up all the characters in Livy sometime. True, the history of Obann, in my books, is fictional. Some uncharitable souls have said the same of Livy. Not to mention Geoffrey of Monmouth, and Herodotus. I guess if you don’t like their histories, you won’t like mine, either. But there’s something to be said for a book that’s stayed in print since 400 B.C.

[Confidential to “Unknowable”: I hear you, brother!]

‘In Search of Merlin’ (2014)

Sometimes being a scholar means you can just say any old thing you want, and still get it published.

Go ahead–try and track down Merlin somewhere in the wilderness of history, with Professor Norma Lorre Goodrich as your guide. Hoo, boy!

https://leeduigon.com/2014/07/19/in-search-of-merlin/