Historical Fiction - Telling it Like it is

During my celebration dinner with author Claudia Mills the other night, we had a discussion about a topic that's been on my mind since I began writing my tween novel, SEASHELL SECRETS, which is set in the early 1960s during the Civil Rights Movement. The issue is this: In order to tell a story involving the plight of black citizens during that time, and tell it honestly, you risk using language and writing scenes that were, and are, offensive. I was so moved by Kathryn Stockett's book, THE HELP. In it, Ms. Stockett bluntly describes the treatment (or mistreatment) of black maids in ways that sometimes brought me to tears. She could have softened the account to minimize the risk of offending readers, but she didn't. The recent controversy over Mark Twain's use of the "N" word begs the question about "accuracy" versus "non-offensive," understandably a difficult discussion. A related issue is whether it does more harm than good to write a book that brings back difficult, less honorable, times in our history after we've made significant strides to improve upon those times. After much thought and discussion, I believe historical fiction is one way to remind us of our past, offensive though it might be, and force us to recognize telltale signs that such despicable prejudices might resurface if we're not careful. There are constant reminders in the news that, as a nation, we have not conquered this problem. I asked a delightful black woman named Dorothy to read my manuscript before I began submitting it to agents. I told her I wanted the story to be accurate but not offensive. Dorothy looked at me and said, "If it's accurate, it will be offensive," and I realized then, that nothing would be more offensive than to downplay the struggle of the black population as they strove for equal rights and proper respect in our country.

SEASHELL SECRETS

One of the great parts of writing is the research needed for every new novel. The search for knowledge, while challenging, is invigorating. It's why I became a researcher to begin with, and why I worked as a researcher in both early child development and youth corrections. During the difficult and often frustrating tasks of developing believable characters and interesting plots, the research keeps your mind busy learning about different cultures, personalities, relationships, and the world around you.

I recently completed revisions to my tween novel, SEASHELL SECRETS, about a twelve-year-old girl growing up during the Civil Rights Movement. She carries a dark secret in her heart for a whole year: while her pastor father was away at a pastors' conference, her white mother gave birth to a baby with black features. Despite a cross in the woods marking the baby's grave, CASSIE believes the baby is alive and living somewhere in their coastal town of Calico Beach, Florida. She's determined to learn who the father is, and what happened to the baby.

The research for this book was fascinating. I read extensively on the Civil Rights Movement, and even took a trip down the coast of Florida to help me describe the countryside. To my delight, I found the little town of Fernandina Beach which was strikingly similar to my fictional town of Calico Beach. I learned about segregation and housing in the 1960's, and paid close attention to the foliage, birds and scenery, all of which helped build the story. There's a certain sadness that goes with completing a novel. But there's a rejuvenation that comes with starting something new requiring a whole new cast of characters, wildly different scenery and times, not to mention a whole new quest for knowledge to make the story come alive.