Dancing Priest

Author and Novelist Glynn Young

writing

Research Can Teach You a Hard (if Useful) Lesson

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I learned a very hard lesson while writing a historical novel. I learned how hard it can be, and it’s hard for both the research you do and for the research you have to ignore. 

I’m writing a novel that takes place in two historical periods – the Civil War and its immediate aftermath, and 50 years later, during the run-up to World War I. The story was loosely based on a story handed down in the family about what had happened to my great-grandfather. The emphasis is on the word “loosely,” because the more I researched, the more I discovered that what was passed down as a family story had very little basis in fact.

Because I discovered this about 40,000 words into the manuscript, it stopped me cold. For weeks. I kept hoping I was wrong, but I learned my extended family had two oral traditions about my great-grandfather. And the version passed down to me was the wrong one, or perhaps I should say “more embellished.” It made a great story, but it was flat-out wrong.

To continue reading, please see my post today at the American Christian Fiction Writers blog.

Photograph: Some of the 1,700 Union cavalry troops who rode through Mississippi in 1863 during Grierson’s Raid. 

Why Poetry Can Make You a Better Writer

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Like most of my generation, I read poetry in English classes in high school. It wasn’t until I was a high school senior that I read poetry that stuck in my head. And it was T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” and “Four Quartets.” I read poetry in college as well, but my English literature professor gave brutal tests that put me off poetry for years. 

My professional career eventually led me to corporate speechwriting. I enjoyed the work, the executives I wrote for liked what I did, and I had that sense of “this is what I was meant to do.” It was a good friend, one who wasn’t a speechwriter, who suggested that if I were really serious about it, then I needed to read poetry. He sent me three books – the collected poems of T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, and Dylan Thomas. He told me to read them and others on a regular basis.

And I thought, seriously? No speechwriter I knew read poetry regularly. Most then and now would read books about current events, developments in science, politics, and a lot of speeches written by others. But poetry? Really?

To continue reading, please see my post today at the American Christian Fiction Writers blog.

Photograph by Nick Fewings via Unsplash. Used with permission.

How I Learned About the Coronation

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There I was, doing what I do best in gift shops connected to major tourist sites, in this case the Tower of London. It was 2013, and I was looking through the books for sale. 

One caught my eye: Crown, Orb & Sceptre: The True Stories of English Coronations by David Hilliam. And the reason it caught my eye was that I’d begun to think about the third novel in my Dancing Priest series, my alternative history of the British royal family. And this would be the novel in which Michael Kent-Hughes would be crowned. 

But I didn’t know much about the specifics of the ceremony, other than it took place in Westminster Abbey and every monarch since Edward I had been crowned there. I bought the book at the gift shop, and it accompanied me home to the States. It was another six months before I read it. It had become part of the research for Dancing King.

It’s full of facts about coronations as well as gossipy tidbits. Charles I, the one who lost his head, was all of four feet, seven inches tall. His coronation was marred by several mishaps, seen later as omens. The worst might have neem an earthquake occurring just as the ceremony ended.

Richard III was crowned barefoot. Oliver Cromwell melted down most of the crown jewels. When George I was crowned in 1714, he couldn’t speak a lick of English (he was German with a British royal connection). Two kings were never crowned; can you name them? (Answer below.) Elizabeth II was advised over and over again not to televise the coronation ceremony; she didn’t listen. Instead, she followed the advice of her husband, who urged her to televise. 

For centuries, the coronation procession began at the Tower of London and ended at Westminster Abbey (with a couple of exceptions for plague years). That was eventually discontinued in the 17th century. I fastened on that fact, and I had Michael Kent-Hughes decide to bring that procession back, linking his own reign to that of the originals – and to allow more people to see the procession (it’s a longer route than the Buckingham Palace to the Abbey stretch) and to give a nod to the business community (the route goes through the City of London) and the theater community (it passes near the West End). 

But it was the coronation itself that was the most important information the book provided. When you see the old clips of Elizabeth II’s coronation, you’re struck by the pageantry, the spectacle, and all the visual details. This may have been why her advisors (including Winston Churchill) argued against television – a televised program can easily miss the point. Above all else, the coronation of the British monarch is a religious ceremony, filled with symbols throughout the rite.

King Edward’s throne with the Stone of Scone.

That’s where Crown, Orb & Sceptre really helped my research. It included the step-by-step ceremony for Elizabeth II’s coronation and explained what each part of the program and each of the symbols meant. The religious and specifically Christian elements fit perfectly with the faith of Michael Kent-Hughes in my story, and I followed the general outline laid out by the book.

Some years back, the prince of Wales who will be crowned Charles III this weekend said in an interview that he would like to be known as the “defender of the faiths,” as opposed to the traditional title of the monarch as “defender of the faith.” He was making a bow in the direction of the diversity of religions in Britain, but he was also unintentionally appointing himself as head of all of the faiths in the country, including Islam. More than a few people pointed that out, and the idea was forgotten.

Except in the case of Michael Kent-Hughes. In Dancing King, and before his coronation, he meets with a group of protestors, who (among other things) demand he demand that he recognize himself as “defender of the faiths.” He succinctly explains exactly what that would mean, much to the shock of the protestors.

If you happen to watch the coronation ceremony this Saturday, remember that each step, and each symbol, is filled with religious importance. Above all else, a British coronation is a religious ceremony. 

And the answer to what two kings were never crowned? The boy king likely murdered with his younger brother in the Tower of London on orders of Richard III, and Edward VIII, who gave up his throne to marry the American divorcee Wallis Simpson. 

Related:

Dancing King Stories: The Tower of London.

Dancing King Stories: The Coronation at Westminster Abbey.

My review of Crown, Orb & Sceptre by David Hilliam.

Ritual, not pageantry: Understanding the coronation – Francis Young at The Critic Magazine.

Top photograph: Westminster Abbey, where every British monarch since Edward I has been crowned.

When Research for Your Historical Novel Changes Your Understanding

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For more than a year, I’ve been researching / writing/ researching / writing a historical novel set during the American Civil War. It’s loosely based on the experiences of my great-grandfather, but the more I write and research, the looser it becomes.

I thought I knew the basic story of the war. What I soon learned is that, for a very long time, historians focused on the war in the East, which specifically meant Virginia, Maryland, Georgia, and Gettysburg in Pennsylvania. But in the last two of three decades, the war in the West – in particular, Tennessee and Mississippi – has come to be recognized as almost as significant as that in the East.

It was certainly significant for both sides of my family. My father’s family experienced the Battle of Shiloh and Grierson’s Raid (the basis for the 1959 movie The Horse Soldiers, starring John Wayne). My mother’s family experienced the Union occupation of New Orleans (starting in 1862), both the Creole French and German immigrant sides of the family. 

To continue reading, please see my post today at the American Christian Fiction Writers blog.

Photograph: John Clem, who “enlisted” in the Union army at age 9 in 1861 and became a soldier at age 12.

Tracing the Life of an Ancestor Isn’t Easy—or Always Accurate

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Oral history may not be particularly trustworthy.

My father was four years old when his paternal grandfather died, so any direct memories he would have had were likely dim. He told me the story, passed down by his father, that his grandfather Samuel Young had fought in the Civil War for the Confederacy, had found himself stranded somewhere in the east when the war ended in 1865, and made his way home primarily by walking. My father said “the Youngs were a family of shopkeepers,” and had lived and worked around Brookhaven in northern Pike Country, and they had owned no slaves. (Pike was a large county; during Reconstruction it was split into two counties, Pike and Lincoln.)

When his grandfather reached home near Brookhaven, Mississippi, my father said, he discovered the family was gone. Neighbors said the entire family had fled to East Texas to escape the devastation of war and Union control. He continued his trek across Louisiana and eventually found his family. At some point, the family returned to Mississippi. My father also told me, again passing down the family story from his father, that Samuel had been too young to enlist, and so became a messenger boy. 

The only possible reference I’ve been able to find in Confederate war records to a Samuel Franklin Young is a listing for S.F. Young – but it’s a man from a far northern country in Mississippi, whereas my ancestor would have been listed for Pike County, which was in southern Mississippi on the Louisiana line. 

That’s as much as I knew about my great-grandfather. It turns out that much of it is likely wrong.

The family listing in the 1850 census

The first question involves Samuel’s age. His tombstone in a cemetery near Alexandria, Louisiana, says he was born Jan. 22, 1845. The 1850 U.S. census lists his age as 7 years, 7 months, which would make his birth year 1843. The records in the family Bible, which I have, and which were written by Samuel himself, say his birth year was 1846. Another record says 1847.

All of those possible dates, except possibly the last one, are problematic for the “too young to enlist” in the war statement from my father. By 1863, the conscription age for the Confederate Army was 16.

Then I discovered this on one of the popular genealogy sites – another bit of family oral history from a grandson of Samuel through another descendant’s line. 

The grandson remembered his grandfather telling stories about his life. Samuel had been born on the Lake Plantation east of Johnston Station in Pike County. His father Franklin owned the plantation and 17 slaves (Franklin is listed as “farmer” on the 1850 census). His father was also involved in building the fill or rail bed for the Illinois Central Railroad from Johnston Station to Summit, Mississippi (the station and line were constructed in 1857).

Samuel, “as was the custom in the family,” was called James Samuel, Clarence Samuel, Samuel Franklin, and simply Samuel. 

Then there’s this: Samuel was drafted during the Civil War, but his father paid a substitute $500 and a horse and saddle to take his son’s place. Later, Samuel was drafted anyway, enlisted in the cavalry, and “fought the Indians west of the Mississippi River.” After the war, Franklin supposedly lost his plantation “to the carpetbaggers,” and the family settled elsewhere in Pike County and worked as sharecropper farmers. Samuel later went to work in a sawmill. 

Samuel’s tombstone

There are a lot of problems with those statements. It’s unlikely Samuel would have been called “James Samuel;” he had an older brother named James who died in 1860. His name is listed as “Samuel Franklin Young” in the Bible, and his signature (also in the Bible) is Samuel F. Young. I’m not sure where Clarence came from. And for the Civil War service “fighting the Indians,” Samuel’s other older brother Wylie served in the Confederate military and died in Texas in 1863.

I suspect either Samuel or his grandson combined some stories, or the grandson’s memory combined the stories. But most of this runs counter to my own father’s memory, or at least his recall of what he understood about his grandfather. And a reader recently pointed out that his great-grandfather had also been too young to enlist and served as a messenger boy for the Confederate post office.

And who knows what name Samuel served in the army under? His own? Clarence? James? And perhaps my father, and I by extension, misunderstood the meaning of “messenger boy” and assumed it was military. And here I thought I had all the facts.

What I know for certain about my great-grandfather: he was born in 1845 or 1846 in Johnston Station, Mississippi. He served somewhere in the Confederate Army. At his death in 1920, he was living with an unmarried daughter named Myrtle Young outside Alexandria, La., and he is buried in a cemetery there. He and his wife Octavia had nine children, seven of whom survived to adulthood. Octavia died in 1887, and Samuel never remarried.

It’s back to the records to see what other facts I can find or corroborate. 

Top photograph: Samuel and Octavia Young about 1880.

When You Face Too Many Ways to Open a Novel

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How many openings can a novel have? Let me count the ways.

I’d never experienced the problem of too many ways to open a novel. Five novels, and five fairly straightforward beginnings, meant that I never struggled over how to open a story. Somehow, I always knew, and it wasn’t an issue.

Until now.

I began to write the draft like I always had. I had an idea, and image, in my mind, and that’s how I’d start the story. I wrote it. I read it over several times. It seemed to work. I started writing beyond the opening, and I bogged down. 

Something seemed slightly off, and I knew it was the opening. So, I reworked it. And reworked it. I revised it to the point where it was almost unrecognizable from the first version. It still didn’t work. I discarded it and started over. I tried something entirely different. At one point, I thought I had it, finally, only to realize I didn’t. I went back to the first and tried it again.

To continue reading, please see my post today at ACFW. 

Photograph by Ankhesenamun via Unsplash. Used with permission.