Remember When . . . There Were No Women for Miles Around?

In relocating my book about archaeology in Egypt to the ’20s, I did run up against one dilemma. In the original, there are quite a few women out there in the Egyptian wilderness, this being a large, high-profile dig. Fine in contemporary settings. But when I moved it back in time 80 years, I had this moment of panic. Oh no, I thought. Were there even female archaeologists back then??

I looked it up and quickly breathed a sigh of relief. Women have indeed been in archaeology since the mid 1800s, but they were few, far between, and had to fight for every ounce of respect they earned. Which means that my heroine could certainly be there, but she now needs the personality to demand it. In the original, Allie was not a demanding person. She was quiet, non-confrontational, but had a spine of steel. New-Allie (or perhaps Old-Allie?? I did, after all, just age her quite a lot, lol) is still quiet, but the stubbornness had to be upped.

It definitely changes my cast of characters, though. Gone are all the other women but one–I kept an older mother-figure, who is now married to another archaeologist on the dig and handles food and nursing. Not exactly her role in the original, but we have to improvise as the facts dictate. 😉

I’m having fun getting to know these characters that are much the same but also different in such crucial ways. Where before she just wouldn’t argue about something because of her bent toward silence, now she uses that silence to prove a point. Like when the hero demands, “Do you really want to argue this point?” she’ll reply, “Yes,” and then just glare at him. Makes for some interesting one-sided dialogue! But hopefully it’ll shake my unshakable heroine into the kind of woman who actually made it in that life. One whose dream, whose vision was so strong that she was willing to take on the whole male-dominant world to achieve it.

Remember When . . . Brits Rules the World?

I haven’t come across any new, interesting tidbits to pass along from Stray Drop, so I figure I’ll jump back to the 20s. I’m there again in my writing, much to my surprise. The short version of “why?” is that an editor who will probably have to turn down Mafia Princess because it’s too close to another story they just contracted asked if I had anything else to fit their line. Naturally, my response is to wrack my brain until I do. =)

Those of you who have read my stack of finished manuscripts may remember The Stars and the Sands, about archaeologists in Egypt on the path of something that may or may not be Atlantis. Originally, this was a contemporary novel, half of which was set in Princeton. But I have learned since writing it that it just doesn’t work as a contemporary because there’s only, like, one guy allowed to excavate in Egypt these days. But in the 20s . . . well, in the 20s, Great Britain had control of Egypt after WWI, and they weren’t too picky about who dug it up. Works great for me!

I’ve done some research and talked to an archaeologist with some experience in that neck of the woods, and it’s so cool to see everything click into place. When facts actually match my plot, I know I’m onto something good. Something God-inspired.

So anyway, back to my subject (yes, I have one). Starting in the late 1800s, Egypt became a popular tourist destination for wealthy British and Americans. Gentlemen thought it fun to go poke around in the dirt and see what they could find–then take their loot home with them.

When the gold-laden tomb of King Tut was discovered in 1922, this became more popular than ever. Everyone wanted something Egyptian, Egyptian styled jewelry became all the rage . . . and can you imagine the frustration of the few actual scientists trying to excavate? All these tourists poking around, asking to take their most important finds home with them.

Perfect insight into my hero, eh? I’m having a blast with all these new facts!

Remember When . . . Everyone flocked to the rooftops?

In Stray Drop, the house plays a pretty critical role in the story, it being where most of the action takes place. Adventurous, I know, but my heroine’s a house slave, so . . . you know. I’ve spent a lot of time studying houses of the day. Thank you to all those diligent archeologists out there who have uncovered some for me!

What did I learn? That in Israel in Jesus’ day, much of the household was run on the roof. The rooftop was usually on multiple levels, each section of the house being a varying height, and it’s where people did the weaving, the cooking, the everything. For some reason, I hadn’t envisioned this. I had assumed there would be something like a porch or portico, something that would provide shade. But apparently they went outside for the light, so . . . this is why I shouldn’t assume. The actual kitchen was very small, and most of the cooking was done out there where the heat wouldn’t build up. Makes sense, huh?

And of course, it’s totally different in Rome. I doubled my work by moving the plot of Stray Drop to Rome for the second half of the book. Because while some things are the same, others are definitely NOT. Their house is built around the courtyard, with a back garden. And the interior is far different, too, each room having one purpose only.

Speaking of one purpose, my son seems to think his right now ought to be running into his sister’s room and waking her up, so I had better get off the computer. Hope everyone has a great Wednesday!

(for a sketch of this, go to this site and scroll down to the housing section)

Remember When . . . Bathrobes Were All the Rage?

Remember When . . . Bathrobes Were All the Rage?

This is going to be my last blog of the week, since tomorrow morning I’ll be winging my way to Denver for the ACFW conference–woo hoo!!

We’ll credit Stephanie for this entry, since she asked “What’s a stola?” last week. Thanks for the inspiration, Stephanie! We’re going to travel back 2,000 years and take a look at fashion today.

It’s kind of funny, because we’ve all done those low (or NO) budget plays in church, right? Where we want to look biblical, so we don an old bathrobe, throw a towel over our head, and voila! If we want to be really authentic, maybe we’ll get a long length of cloth to drape over our shoulders or something, right?

It’s an image that’s hard to shake, so I had to do some research when working on Stray Drop. I mean, some things I know about the time makes me think, “Okay, maybe it’s not so far off, especially for women. They were second-class citizens at the time, so maybe they did wear formless, bland stuff.” But . . . no. I mean, come on. When in history have women ever been happy to let their figures go totally unnoticed??

Women’s fashions started out much like the men’s, in that they wore a tunic–long, robe-like thing, two seams up the sides, neck hole. Men would then cover it with a toga (if Roman) or (if Hebrew) a cloak or mantle. This isn’t the cape/coat type of cloak so much as an over-jacket, decorated and adorned. The toga, of course, is a whole lot of cloth draped and tucked into the classic lines we all recognize.

But to jump back to women. Even back then, they were all about emphasizing assets. Tunics were belted, knotted, draped to show off curves. (The picture is actually of an Egyptian priestess, but Israelites often borrowed styles from their larger neighbor.)

Roman women often even fancied up the tunic, opting for the Greek-style chiton, which has the fastened sleeves we often call “Roman fashion” when we do it today. Roman women were entitled to wear a stola when they got married, but not all did–it wasn’t particularly stylish or practical. The belted or draped their clothing to make it figure-flattering.

For variety (since the stola was probably undyed wool), they went super-fancy in hair, headdresses, and jewelry. Hebrew women, on the other hand, usually tied their hair back with a piece of cloth, and would cover their heads for protection from the sun.

Now, if you think makeup is a modern invention, you’re waaaaaay off. Women back then would pain their faces too. It’s obvious from Egyptian paintings that they especially favored eye makeup, and as already stated, neighboring countries loved to borrow their colorful style.

I think what it comes down to is a pretty unchanging human nature–and female nature, lol. We like to look good. Maybe it’s part of the curse from the Garden: that we will we desire our husbands and work to please them. Maybe that’s why women throughout history have spent hours figuring out how to make their clothes flattering, their makeup attractive, their hair so pretty.

Now don’t think I’m above it just because I point that out! I tell my hubby all the time, “I’m vain. I can’t help it. If I’m going out in public, you better bet I want to look good.” Hence why I spent hours picking out the perfect outfits for conference, got the perfect haircut, just sifted through my makeup bag yesterday to make sure I had all that I needed without taking too much. I know, I know, appearances aren’t the most important thing. But at the same time, that’s what makes a first impression, and I believe in making the best of what the good Lord gave me. You’ll never find me spending money I don’t have on it (I’m notorious in my family for being the one who goes shopping and puts everything back, saying, “I really don’t need that. I don’t want to spend the money on it.”), but I choose carefully, making sure what I do buy or wear flatters me.

Nice to know we’ve been doing that since of the dawn of time, eh?

Now . . . see some of you in Denver! Can’t wait!!

Remembering 9/11

As I was thinking about which friend to brag on today, I stopped to consider the date and then was amazed to realize it would be 9/11. Amazed, because somehow the date has become like any other over the eight years since our world changed.

It made me think. Got me remembering. I was in class when the planes struck the World Trade Center and had no clue what was going on. As we drove home for lunch, we saw a very strange sight for Annapolis though–two white hazmat vans (strange looking things) rushing onto Rt 50 right in front of us. A curiosity that we ignored until we got home and my MIL called us to tell us to turn on the news.

As we drove back for afternoon classes an hour later, it seemed like a different world. Annapolis was deserted, all the government offices vacated and the Naval Academy on lockdown. Because my college is sandwiched between those two things, police stood at the corners of the college, checking IDs before allowing us to enter. It was a terrifying time. It rewrote reality.

I remember having the thought, “What is relevant now? What matters? These stories I’m working on seem so trivial, but what stories wouldn’t?”

We drove home that weekend, and across every bridge homemade banners stretched declaring “God Bless America.” People had stuck Styrofoam cups into chain link fences to scroll out messages of their patriotism. American flags had sold out.

And now, eight years later, I think most of us have forgotten that again, or have at least shoved it to a convenient place in our minds, one that we don’t have to look at but when we realize the anniversary is upon us.

So every year, I make it a point to pull out the essay I wrote on 9/11, which was published in my hometown paper a week later. It helps me remember–perhaps it will help you, too.

To My Brother, the Stranger

I did not know you. I never met you. If I had seen you, you would have been simply a face in the crowd. My thoughts never touched upon the possibility of your existence.

And yet. . .

And yet when I heard of the tragedy of losing you, you were suddenly my brother, my sister, my best friend. You were the comrade I never had the opportunity to meet, the face I could sketch simply because of how many faces you are. And every time I open my mind, it is to realize anew that you were a person, you were loved, and now you’re gone.

It’s a shock I never expected to feel , a pain no man, woman, or child should ever have to endure. And I did not know you. How much worse must it be for the widows, the orphans, the childless parents, the brotherless sisters that were made on that day? How much worse again for those who yet know nothing about the fate of those dearest to them?

It is a pain no one should have to gaze on, much less be consumed by. It is a piercing that should quickly tear down all barriers until there is nothing left but a shaken humanity, a resolved people, a united nation. It should induce the best in man when he looks at evil, when he sees the dancing in his enemy’s camps. It should make him realize that the sickness he feels, the death he sees is a presence to be ignored no longer.

I pray that somehow this change in our lives will be used in a way to make us better. I pray that as I walk down the streets of my untouched city I never forget that it could be gone in a moment. I pray that as I pass a stranger I remember to remember that he is not a stranger to someone. I pray that soon all our fears are exhausted and we are left instead with hope. And I pray that we never take for granted the greatness of our nation, lest through our disregard it lose that thing that sets us apart.

I can never say the right words to those who are grieving, because there are no words to be said. I did not know you. I never met you. All I can offer you is the love of a face you have never seen and the prayers of a heart that is reaching across the miles to the strangers it now calls brothers.

May God enfold us in His arms until the terror goes away. May He settle his peace over us until the rivers of tears run dry. May He comfort us until we become victorious. And may we never forget that it is He who will lift us from the mire. Today America has united in common anguish. Tomorrow we will rejoice in justice. And all the world will know that this is a nation that God has blessed and will never forsake. Let us be the first to proclaim that.

Remember When . . . You Wouldn’t Say “Wouldn’t”?

English is so weird. Ever notice that? I mean, I love the language–ask anyone. I take such great Joy from the intricacies and foibles of mechanics and syntax that my critique partners fondly refer to me as the Grammar Nazi. (At least, I assume it’s fondly . . . 😉

One of the things I love about English is our ability to affect the formality of our speech by using contractions. So far as I can tell, we’ve been so pretty much since English became English. So if you’re writing a historical novel, contract away! Fear them not! Shakespeare did it, so you can too.

Other languages, though, don’t often do this. They elide, but only when two vowels would otherwise be side by side, making pronunciation difficult. That’s never optional–it’s just done. So how, you gotta wonder, do speakers of other languages adjust formality?

I discovered the answer to this when I was writing my Biblical fiction, A Stray Drop of Blood. (See, historical. I’m getting around to it, I promise!) Since my characters would have been speaking Ancient Greek, which I happen to have studied for two years (yes, I’m a nerd–but a COOL one!), I wanted to reflect the beauty of that language with my English. Talk about a challenge!

In Greek, word order doesn’t matter a whit for the most part. It’s all about the endings of words and the words themselves. Obviously, I can’t do that in English. But what I can do is arrange my words, choose my words, in a way that forces me to convey my meaning in a Greek way. I chose to do this by using NO contractions in my novel. Definitely a challenge. It’s not the kind of thing anyone notices until I tell them, but it sets a mood, paints a picture of the place and time. I’m having a lot of fun rereading the original and seeing how I pulled this off. I’m still remarkably pleased with the results (to toot my own horn;-)

Of course, the writing of it was sometimes comical. I had to get into a Greek Zone. I’d edit my own thoughts when writing. You know, like, “He said he’d–no he would–go.” But then I’d forget to leave that zone and would try to edit thoughts for regular conversation too. I’d be sitting in class, trying to formulate an answer to the conversation, and think, “He’d–no, he would–no, HE’D!” My friends all thought this very amusing.

I’m really enjoying getting back into the Greek Zone as I’m working on this. And I hope y’all do too, because over the next little while, as I gear up for the release of the new and improved paperback A Stray Drop of Blood, I’m going to be sharing all the fun stuff about Ancient Jerusalem and Rome.

So slip into a comfy tunic, grab your favorite stola (you married women out there), find a scroll and a handy quill, and settle in. It’s gonna be fun!