This map hung up on the truck stop hallway door

[sovay]

I forgot to mention this before, except on truepenny's journal, but my story "Nutmeg and Limestone" has been accepted for Say . . . what's the combination? This is a story with which I am peculiarly pleased, because it's not set in New England or even the generalized Northeast. I am not sure that I write stories to which place is particularly crucial, so most of the cities are nameless and even street names or specific conjunctions of stores don't often turn up, but I think it's fairly clear from the seasons, flora and fauna, and the occasional landscape or skyline that most of mine take place in Boston or New York or some plausible amalgam.* "Nutmeg and Limestone" is likewise never specifically located, but it's set in Gainesville, Florida.**

I don't know if this will be perceptible to anyone else. It may be one of the facts that I know about a story, but that makes no difference to the audience.*** But because I have never lived in Gainesville, I care. I couldn't throw the visual description off the top of my head; I don't have that gift, either for historical fiction or fiction set in unfamiliar locations. For a period of about two and a half years, thanks to dgr8bob, I had visited Gainesville about twice a year; but "Nutmeg and Limestone" was written in August 2004. I had to double-check what trees the main character would see when he looked out the window. (I had to look up some of their names.) I'm sure I got all kinds of small details wrong: colloquialisms, speech patterns; like American writers who set stories in London, but all their characters sound like New Yorkers. I probably mixed up details I hadn't even known to notice. When the story comes out, anybody who lives in north-central Florida should feel free to correct me. But I'm still not unhappy.

It's a very small point, I know. Most of what I've mentioned is peripheral detail: the story itself takes place more or less all in the main character's living room. But given how neurotic I am about not being able to make place and time and atmosphere and detail feel right—there's a reason I haven't yet been able to make historical fiction work—I'm immensely relieved that "Nutmeg and Limestone" exists in its current form at all.

And Christopher Rowe likes it, which really pleases me. He's cool. And he doesn't live in the Northeast, either.

*There are skyscrapers. There are maple trees all over the place. There's usually a river and sometimes a harbor and colorful autumn and lots of bookstores. I make an exception for stories like "Till Human Voices Wake Us" and "A Ceiling of Amber, A Pavement of Pearl," which I envision in Portland, Maine: so there's ocean, and lots of bookstores.

**I don't know why it's set in Gainesville. The main character lives there, that's why: for no reason except that when the words started, that's what turned up. The story had to accommodate. In the end, I'm glad it did; I like the geographical contrasts that grew up as the plot progressed. But don't ask me to explain more than that.

***For example, I know that in the last scene of "Little Fix of Friction," when Blake is waiting for Niko outside the theater, he's come to see a production of Benjamin Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream in which Niko played Puck—a tumbler's role, non-singing. This is nowhere in the text. So far as I'm concerned, the knowledge doesn't even change the story: the trickster nature of Niko's character is noted, and that's what's important. Whatever readers visualize for the performance is their own affair. But Britten's opera was in my head while I was writing the scene, and so no matter what other operas or musicals or straight plays may require a children's chorus, with sequined hair or without, from my perspective Niko will never have been in anything else.

Comments

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

I sympathize with your concerns about accuracy. I tend to always want to write about places I've never been (or had brief glimpses of) because it's my way to travel (cheaply) and because I love research. But it's a huge problem sometimes--eg., the Boston State House--I've never been in it and a lot of my novel line takes place there. I have photos, floor plans, etc., but I still don't really know if you can access this hall from that door or how many strides it is from the State House to the Common. I need to visit; and yes, I'm trying to find out right now (for a different novel) what sort of birds might be migrating through southern Spain in spring (and when this spring should actually be). I'm glad your story found a good home; you should rest now.

[fleurdelis28.livejournal.com]

Any specific questions about the State House? The distance from the state house grounds to the common is basically the width of a relatively narrow but frequently busy road; I'm not sure how much further it is to the side wing where you actually enter, though.

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Thanks, that's exactly the kind of information I need. Other things? Because I wanted to walk up that front staircase instead of using the side entrance, I have the front entrance newly renovated and opened "to the public for the first time in years, a gesture of common ownership," but then I'm not sure if they end up in The Great Hall or if it's at a different level. As you can see, I need to visit. The character also walks from the State House to the Charles, and really, do I know the way? He touches the stone facade of the Athenaeum ... it goes on. Maybe if I visit, I won't need to write the novel, but I don't see that happening soon. Again, thanks for the information!

[sovay]

ut it's a huge problem sometimes--eg., the Boston State House--I've never been in it and a lot of my novel line takes place there. I have photos, floor plans, etc., but I still don't really know if you can access this hall from that door or how many strides it is from the State House to the Common. I need to visit

If you did, I could arrange to be in Boston. I think the last time I was in the Boston State House, I was in eighth grade and mostly I remember my state representative pointing out the Sacred Cod and the Holy Mackerel.

I'm glad your story found a good home; you should rest now.

Did I sound that wound up? I knew I wasn't a morning person . . . : P

[malamyn.livejournal.com]

I once critiqued someone's short story that took place in a post-apocolypitc New Orleans (interestingly enough, this was long before the hurricane) and because I had lived there I combed through the story to alert her to various inaccuracies. I also told her that I was engaged enough in the story that though I noticed the mistakes while reading, I liked the story and the characters enough to disregard them until I sat down to write the critique.

I think most people are pretty forgiving (unless they're mean and who cares about them), especially when the story is good enough to distract them. My best example is anytime I teach SCUBA Diving I go into a loooooooooooooooong rant about how the movie 'The Abyss' is the most implausible movie ever made(even beyond the aliens and the lack of proper decompression on the way to the surface), but that doesn't keep me from enjoying it. Of course, as I always end my rant... sometimes being completely accurate can prevent you from writing the story.

And the cool thing about not specifically naming a place as you've done, is you have lots of people who react to the familiarity and think 'Maybe this is set here...' instead of setting out to find the inaccuracies.

[sovay]

I think most people are pretty forgiving (unless they're mean and who cares about them), especially when the story is good enough to distract them.

Heh. Thanks. It's not that I worry so much about aggrieved letters from readers who will tell me that I put the Shaw's on Whitney rather than Whalley Avenue, it's that I never want to make the kind of mistake that jars a person out of a story. Usually I just don't think much about it: I don't have to. In writing "Nutmeg and Limestone," though, I noticed that I cared.

I think most people are pretty forgiving (unless they're mean and who cares about them), especially when the story is good enough to distract them.

Hence the story about Cain in 1930's Germany that sits here on my hard drive, looking like four thousand words' worth of historical neurosis. : P

And the cool thing about not specifically naming a place as you've done, is you have lots of people who react to the familiarity and think 'Maybe this is set here...' instead of setting out to find the inaccuracies.

That would be cool!

[larryhammer]

Dude -- cool sale.

---L.

[sovay]

Thanks. : )

[eredien]

I'm so glad you wrote a story set in Florida--I must read it, as I have an obsession with stories set anywhere below Georgia.

I need to do research while I am in Florida soon--one of the Fay in the novel has placed himself there and does not care that I know close to nothing about the area except the way it smells in spring in the mangrove swamp.

[sovay]

I can e-mail you the story, if you like; that way you don't have to wait until Wiscon.

one of the Fay in the novel has placed himself there and does not care that I know close to nothing about the area except the way it smells in spring in the mangrove swamp.

Well, you're one up on me. I don't think I've ever been in a mangrove swamp in spring.