COME DOWN FROM YOUR IVORY TOWER
M. E. Kemp was born in 1713… ooops, that’s the year her ancestors settled in Oxford, MA where she grew up. Â Her father drove the kids all over New England to see historic sites and she inherited his love of Colonial history. Â Kemp lives with husband Jack and two kitties, Boris and Natasha, in Saratoga Springs, NY where hubby haunts the racetrack with a stack of her books under his arm.
My daughter sits alone in her room and writes and writes for hours. Â But she’s recovering from an accident and is working on a Doctorate in Philosophy, so unless you are in the same boat you shouldn’t be in your room alone, just you and a growing stack of papers. Â Early in my writing career I went to a conference where the guest speaker was David McCullough, the biographer. Â I have never forgotten his advice, that the business of a writer is to get out and meet people, not to shut themselves off in a lonely corner.
Perhaps I’ve taken his advice a little too literally, as I’m always ready to run off for lunch when a friend calls, leaving my work-in-progress on the coffee table where kitties leave little paw prints on the pages or a breeze scatters it all over the floor…. Â Still, I’ve never forgotten McCullough’s advice. Â He’s a prize-winning biographer so he knows what works. Â I’ve learned to keep my eyes open in the real world, where a passing man may sport a rosy complexion and the clear skin of an English farmer. Â A thin woman with bushy black hair and dark eyes may be a colonial witch. Â Even a ginger-colored pig on a farm may become a character named Priscilla.
I overhear a conversation on relationships and the dialogue ends up in my book. Â So what if my period is the 1690′s? Â I write from the viewpoint that human nature never changes, so a jealous spouse is a jealous spouse in any time period. Â Oh, customs change and laws change, so a husband may no longer legally beat his wife with a stick the size of his wrist, but that’s where research comes in.
When writers warn you to watch out or you might end up in their book, I plead guilty of doing just that.  A deadbeat tenant ended up as a murder victim in one book.  The tenant who replaced  her is the village idiot in another book — but at least  he’s a good-hearted village idiot.  (Don’t worry, neither village idiots read books.)  As a tribute to my late sister I tried to put her in my book but it didn’t work out at all.  Characters take on a life of their own.  My detective in my series of historical mysteries, Hetty Henry, was supposed to be a secondary character but she is such a pushy broad she took over the book and then the series.  When a character is that strong it’s best for the writer to give in.  Let the character go the way it wants to go, otherwise you’ll have cardboard puppets.
I also believe in walking in my characters’ footsteps, visiting the actual site. Â I’m lucky, since my locale is in Boston and there is plenty of late-17th c. locale left in Boston. Â It’s easy to pick up the atmosphere that Hetty and her sidekick Creasy knew on those narrow streets just off the cow pasture of Boston Common. Â I almost expect to run into that prig, Constable Phillymort, raising his lantern in my face and questioning why I’m out after curfew. Â For my work-in-progress, Death of a Cape Cod Cavalier, I’ve just returned from the Cape where I walked the beach Hetty walks when she discovers a half-dead body. Â (Hetty’s current squeeze is based on a former NYCB dancer in looks and build. Â I’m not sure yet whether the body she rescues is going to be her next squeeze — you never know with Hetty Henry — but he’s based upon a popular television actor.)
Everything and everyone is grist for the ol’ writing mill, but  you have to get out in the field and plant the grain or you’re going to eat some pretty tasteless porridge.
June 5, 2011
Posted in: Guest Blogs


4 Responses
You’re so right, One of my victims was based on a boss I once had – a horrible man I was mighty pleased to murder!
I agree that getting is important. I look forward to reading the Cape Cod book.
Marilyn, thank you for being my guest today—it’s always a pleasure having you here
I agree completely! All we do is fodder for a book, present or future. I didn’t come to what I write–despite writing my whole life, vague, meandering, unfinished things–till I got out in the real world and practiced psychology.
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