Going to the wild side

 Barbara here, at last. Although I'm not sure anyone missed me, I have been AWOL from this blog for the past month and only remembered this week's post rather late in the game. Life has been getting in the way, but most of it is boring stuff about cottage close-ups, laundry, broken washing machines, thanksgiving prep, and such.

The only really interesting reason for my negligence was my sixteen-day trip out to Vancouver Island to research the next Amanda Doucette novel, which is set in the Pacific Rim area on the wild west coast of Vancouver island. Each Amanda book is set in a different iconic location across Canada, starting in the far east on the island of Newfoundland, then moving to Quebec's Laurentian mountains, Ontario's stunning Georgian Bay archipelago, and then the fascinating, slightly spooky Alberta badlands. In this fifth book, Amanda has finally reached the western extremity of Canada. 

Not every region has been represented, and I apologize for that, but had I chosen to include every province and territory, I would be closing in on a hundred years old before penning that last book. I did write about the north in my Inspector Green book, THE WHISPER OF LEGENDS, and should my publisher and I decide to do a sixth Amanda book, it would be set in the north.

In choosing my locations, I wanted to shine a spotlight on the incredible beauty and diversity of Canada's landscape and culture. Not only is the rugged, rocky coast of Newfoundland very different from the parched moonscape of the Alberta's badlands, but the lifestyle and daily preoccupations of its people are unique as well. To do justice to this uniqueness, I needed to visit each place I wrote about. While I was more familiar with Newfoundland, Quebec, and Ontario, my knowledge of the badlands was more limited and my knowledge of the wild Pacific Rim was non-existent. There is only so much one can learn by parachuting into a place and racing around it, taking notes and photos, talking to people, and trying to walk in my characters' shoes, but it is still better than the internet, books, and maps (although I did use those too). Nothing gives the sounds, sights, smells, and feel of a place quite like being there. 

The spirit of Tofino

Naure is awe-inspiring, and there is an emotional and spiritual impact to standing in the middle of it. Before I stood on the endless beach near Tofino, listening to the breakers gather and crumble and watching the surfers rise and fall, I would never have appreciated the soft, yellow luminescence of the early morning sun. Nor the humid, vibrantly green rain forest, which is both soaring and claustrophobic at the same time. I had pictured Amanda bushwhacking through the forest to get from one place to another, something that is difficult enough in eastern forests, but impossible in that dense, choked greenery. Had I not walked those forests myself and corrected my descriptions, I would have lost many readers who should have been immersed in the story.

Rainforest perspective

So in the interests of bringing a vivid, credible story to life, I spent sixteen days and took two day-kayak trips in different parts of the area, a whale watching trip in a Zodiac in three metre ocean swells, a bear watching trip along the inner shores of the many inlets, and a seaplane flight over the coastal islands that form the backbone of my story. I hiked numerous trails, walked for miles along the beaches, rolled up my jeans and walked barefoot in the surf, and visited the location of the local cemeteries and the old hippie commune at Wreck Bay. Now I have to incorporate what I learned into the book.

Long Beach in a storm

Sixteen days is not long to get the sense of a place, but it will be better than nothing. The pandemic nearly ruined all my plans. Closures and quarantine requirements, not to mention the dangers of social interactions, meant I'd had to cancel a previous trip and write a lot of the book beforehand on sheer guesswork. Even now, several of the hikes and activities central to the book are still closed, and one of the islands is still completely off limits to tourists. The famous Wildside Heritage Trail on Flores Island, which is in the book and which I had planned to hike, was closed, as were the Hot Springs. 

My acknowledgements will have to include a caveat and an apology for all the things I might get wrong, but I am trying my best to do justice to an astonishing place.

Plus, it was a fabulous trip!

The best-laid plans

I acknowledge that I write this post from a position of extreme privilege. I live in Canada, which has universal public health care and a supportive government that is managing the pandemic reasonably well. I live in my own home and have a pension (hard-earned) that keeps the terror of destitution at bay. I have not yet lost friends or loved ones to Covid. I miss the company and hugs of friends and family, but as a writer, I am used to solitude and can conjure up playmates inside my own head. 

Many people, my own children included, have had their lives completely thrown off course by this pandemic. By comparison, I have absolutely no right to complain. But in the interests of documenting the pandemic's frustrations, big and small, here I go.

The first frustration surrounds the release of my upcoming book, THE ANCIENT DEAD, meant to come out in October 2020, in time for holiday signings, readings, and gift-buying. Covid crushed that plan and the publisher pushed the release to the dead zone of January 2021, with no possibility of in-person appearances and launches. Sales and publicity out the window. I gamely switched gears to think virtual. How do I hold a virtual launch? How do people attend and buy books? How do I greet and thank everyone who tunes in? I love my book launches, and the thought of staring at myself on the Zoom screen while disembodied attendees watch is profoundly unsatisfying. But I will figure it out. And I will figure out the Zoom book clubs and readings that I hope will follow in the months afterwards.

The second frustration is more serious, although still petty measured against the struggles of the world. I am just beginning to research the fifth Amanda Doucette book. I know nothing about it beyond the setting, which is British Columbia. The series has been moving across the country, and it is now British Columbia's turn. It was initially to have been set on a small cruise boat going through the inside passage, but after watching the cruise ship disasters of the past few months, I gave up that idea. Instead, I thought maybe Haida Gwai, a fascinating area I have always wanted to visit. Then access to the area was closed, with no guarantee when and how it would be opened up. So I started researching other possibilities on Vancouver Island and the mainland. Now, however, there is a real possibility that borders between regions and provinces may be closed and/or 14-day quarantines imposed on travellers. That would make the research trip untenable. I have no place to quarantine in BC and can't afford the extra time and cost of accommodation and dog care.

With one exception, I have never written a book without visiting the area. So much rich detail is missed when I can't walk the paths my characters walk, see the sights and hear the sounds, talk to local people and get a sense of the real place. I cannot imagine writing about the stunning and unique place that is wild BC while relying only on books, the internet, and friends. The book would be a pale imitation of what it could be. 

To meet this book's deadline, I need to do the trip in the spring of 2021, or at the latest by early September. But who knows where we'll be by then? Will there be a successful vaccine in general use? Will everything be in lockdown again? Will I be able to visit the places I want to, and find restaurants and accommodations there? I probably won't know these answers for months, and so am unable to plan ahead. This book may turn out to be a last-minute, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants scramble.

Not the way I want to write it at all. But... Covid doesn't care.

Pandemic hurdles

Recent posts (including my own) have noted that the pandemic has changed our work as writers in many ways. For many of us, our concentration and focus are shot. We find ourselves easily distracted and sidetracked by Facebook and email alerts, news bulletins hovering just behind our manuscript, and a general feeling of restless malaise that drives us to the fridge or the window several times an hour.

We also wrestle with whether to include the pandemic and its aftermath in our work in progress, which will likely come out in 18 - 24 months. It is difficult to pretend the huge upheaval we are living through did not exist. But it's also difficult to know what the world will look like by then, so we are trying to imagine and write about a world that is still out of sight. In addition, will the concerns and struggles of our characters – indeed the central drama of the book – seem irrelevant and perhaps even trivial in the brave new world our future readers will be living in? Right now, as I write my novel, it certainly feels like that.

Or is it possible that reading a story that contains no reference to the pandemic, that transports us back to that flawed but normal world we used to know, will be a welcome relief? Who knows?

So I am proceeded at a snail's pace through my first draft, writing in fits and starts as I feel my way forward and avoid the mental distractions and sloth we have all been experiencing. As if that isn't difficult enough, I've encountered yet another problem with writing in the pandemic age. I am a realistic writer. I research as thoroughly as I can the locations and details I am writing about. The Internet is an extremely useful tool but it is no substitute for real-life location scouting and interviews with experts, etc. I am used to visiting locations, talking to locals, and walking though all the steps my characters take. I am used to going to the source to verify police, coroner, and scene of the crime procedures.

Researching my Alberta book, THE ANCIENT DEAD

I can't do much of that now. I wanted to visit the Ottawa courthouse not only to get the lay of the land but also to attend a trial and watch how the lawyer and police worked, what they wore, etc. None of that can happen now. I wanted to visit Ontario Provincial Police detachments in nearby rural communities and talk to the local staff on the ground about how they would respond to certain situations, how resources would be deployed, how they would liaise with the specialist teams, etc. I can phone, but a cold call in the middle of a pandemic will likely not garner much cooperation. First responders are probably busy and focussed on other (more important) things.

I wanted to stroll through the small villages, poke around for potential burial sites, and talk to people, but that too is now a challenge. In the old days, my questions would have roused curiosity and a good laugh, but now... Who knows what kind of feelings I might be treading on?

Rural village in my latest book

I managed to do some of the research before the writing began, but more questions always come up as the story evolves. So all I can do not is rely on Mr. Google and my imagination, make the stuff up, and hope I can fact-check before the final manuscript has to be submitted.

My final plan will be to apologize in the acknowledgements and blame the pandemic for all the things I got wrong. This too is an evolving story.

Going on Location

This week I went out to do location scouting for my 1939 book in progress. I went to Nantucket -- a fast turnaround of two nights and a day. I had a credit at an inn from last year when the ferry wasn't running because of a hurricane. I needed to come back quickly because of an event my students and I will be attending on campus this afternoon. Since I really needed to get to the library on Nantucket, I decided the quick trip for a first look would be worth it.

If you live in the Northeast or have been watching the weather report, you know that the remnants of Florence have been bringing us rain. Nothing like the devastation in North Carolina and hardly worth complaining about -- just enough to produce flash flooding and to make the drive to Nantucket on Tuesday an exercise in peering at other people's brake lights and on-coming headlights through downpours. I stopped at one point to remove a temporary registration renewal from from my dashboard because the white paper was being reflected on the windshield and I couldn't see through it. That was the weirdest effect I'd ever seen, and I have to remember it for future use (somewhere, somehow).

But getting back to my soggy drive from Albany to Hyannis -- I ended up stopping and calling to change my ferry reservation. Lucky I did because even with the change in time, I barely made the next ferry. And had a hard time getting a taxi in the rain once I arrived in Nantucket. But finally made it to the lovely bed and breakfast where I was staying. The rain continued, and I ordered a pizza, had a hot shower, and settled down to make some notes about the book.

The next day was much better. After enjoying breakfast with the other guests, I walked over to the Nantucket Atheneum, the public library. One of the reference librarians told me that I would be able to access the digital collection of the Nantucket newspaper. That freed up the time I thought I would need to spend reading in the library. Then he showed me the Nantucket section (local histories, fiction, cookbooks, picture books, everything Nantucket). I settled down at the table and knew I was about to have a wonderful afternoon.

Any Moby-Dick fans here? I admit it. I've struggled since high school to read that novel. I love the opening lines, the first few pages, but I never gotten beyond that either in print or audible. I am now ready to try again. Now I know that at one point Nantucket was the whaling capital of the world. I know that Melville's novel was inspired by the true story of the sinking of the Essex. I've read sections of the account written years later by one of the survivors, who was a fourteen year old cabin boy on the ship. I started to read the nonfiction book based on that account and other research. Now, I'm ready to tackle Moby-Dick again -- an unexpected bonus of my research.

But the real find was the prairie dogs. In the 1890s, for unknown reason, prairie dogs were brought to the island. The population quickly got out of hand. One of the problems was that the prairie dogs dug holes. Horses could break legs if they stepped in those holes. The town where most of the prairie dogs were found decided to eradicate the prairie dogs. This happened in 1900, long before the beginning of my novel. But the mention of horses breaking their legs reminded me of the real-life story from 1939 involving the death of a horse during the filming of a movie. One of my POV characters loves horses. I thought this would be an interesting minor detail. Two characters mention this in passing when she is out riding. But since she is the character who will go to Nantucket, followed by my bad guy (who is trying to court her), the prairie dog/horse story has caught my attention. In fact, it has sent me off in a new direction as I imagine an argument she might have with my bad guy and re-think what she does for a living. All that from one brief entry in a book about Nantucket history. More than worth the trip.

But that wasn't all. There were other bits and pieces that I can weave into my plot -- like the Fourth of July celebration that summer in 1939.  Now, I know what my female character would have done that week in Nantucket. I have photographs and descriptions.

In my room that evening, I also had time to think about the relationship between two other characters. To think and realize that I could eliminate a minor character by making one character do the work of two.

Anyone else love getting out and doing location research after days and days at your desk? Wonderful how being there can open a story up and make it work.