History based

My stories very much blend the history of the real world with what happens in their universe.

My first novel takes place in 2002 because of some of these elements. The characters don't work if they are removed from that time.

Etienne and Basilie must be children of post World War II. Basilie has to be a corporate raider circa 1980s. Adelaide can only rise as a supermodel in the pre-waif days and in the shadow of beauties like Cindy Crawford.

More importantly, Etienne's uncle dies in Algeria. His father probably served in Indochina. He completed his national service in a post colonial Djibouti, which means he didn't see the action his father and uncles did.

I was reading Frantz Fanon yesterday, and as a anti-colonial philosopher AND a psychiatrist, he had some interesting notes about the impact of warfare on the Algerians and the French alike during the war for Algerian independence.

I realized, reading these notes, that I had finally found my link to Uncle Gaston's service, conduct and death. This excites me.

The intricate crossing of fiction and history allows the author to comment on the actions of nations and the state of society.

I've already written a short character sketch to introduce Khadijah, who may challenge everything Etienne believes about his family, his country's "civilizing mission" of yesteryear and what it means to be "French."

It may help him do what's right in the aftermath of his own actions.

The power of smell

One of the reasons I like the end of the day is collapsing in bed. Even if nothing happens in bed but sleep, I love the familiar texture of the sheets, the sense of relief as you put your body down, and the smell.

There's nothing better than the smell of clean sheets, but the smell of "gently-used" sheets can be comforting. I don't mean anything raunchy, but your partner's pillow tends to smell like that person, or maybe you smell the perfume you wore the day before still left behind.

Last night before going to bed, I imagined the scene in my third book (now remember, I'm working on book two) where one of the main characters disappears without a trace. I contemplated what his wife must have felt when faced with their bed at night.

And this is what I wrote:

"She rolled to his side of the bed, her face buried in his pillow, wallowing in the familiar scent of him that seemed so distant since his disappearance. Fruity yet heavy with jasmine like his Chanel cologne, she clamped her eyes tight as she tried to remember the name... Her eyes ached despite closing them. Two weeks, she thought, two weeks without word of him and everything had disintegrated.

She finally understood how it hurt to be “left.”

She finally understood why he resented her for doing it to him all those years ago.

She flipped onto her side, the heady cologne smell fading and mixing with the aroma of his body, not the pure saltiness of sweat and the muskiness that accompanies it, but the lingering something masculine... because she had wrapped herself in their sheets after all... that something not quite male or female that hung in the room after...

The heat exploded in her face. How could a woman her age blush at the thought... The warmth spread through her body and she hugged her legs to her chest to ignore it.

Our bed smells like us, she thought, like sex."

So what does love smell like to you?

Swirling brain

My brain swirls, or perhaps ripples like the water on a still pond. As each thought breaks the surface, it extends outward...

I have wanted to write for days, but fatigue and holiday obligations have prevented this. And now, with the opportunity finally presenting itself... I can't focus. I couldn't even settle on a topic for my blog, so I'm going stream of consciousness. Lucky you.

I seem to dwell on what could be termed the epilogue of book three of my series... And wanting to research Post Traumatic Stress Disorder... doesn't that make you wonder what I'm planning for my poor characters, or at least for one of them. Several die, one becomes a victim, and an unlikely hero emerges.

Part of me wants to spend some time with the bad guy from books one and two, because I'm sensing the shallowness in him. Other people have told me they didn't get into him enough, and I see him as distant from the world. But I fear this contemplation, because "fixing" him and allowing myself to see more of the greater world from his perspective will, no doubt, change the first book as well. And this is the one I am marketing.

Well, or I was. I fell down on the job lately. I have no queries out right now.

I was really getting into the revisions for book two, and had finished more or less the first third when I determined it still wasn't working. So I tried a new chapter one, as I mentioned a few weeks ago. I think I might be on the right track with this one. So...

I suppose what I have to do is reread my revised chapter one and evaluate it and see how far I got with the latest chapter two.

Uggh.