Sometime in 2003 I spotted one of those “150 years ago” tidbits in the local newspaper and read: In 1853 the worst yellow fever ever to hit New Orleans killed thousands of people, making it impossible for grave diggers to keep up with the burials of the deceased.
Wow, I thought. That would make a great base for a story. I clipped the article and taped it to my desk, where it sat. And sat. And sat. For five years it sat there until my advisor at VC said, “This isn’t going to work for your final thesis. (the work I intended to use) Don’t you have anything else you’re working on?”
“Well, sorta. I have this story I’ve started about a girl who lives in New Orleans in the 19th century and her mother dies of Yellow Fever.”
“Send me three chapters,” she said.
And that was when Michèle was born. Those three chapters were the easiest chapters I ever wrote. Michèle had been festering in my imagination for so long I worked beyond the three chapters and ultimately completed my thesis requirements and graduated from VC in July 2009.
And then Michèle sat, and sat, and sat, for another two and a half years.
I won a critique with an agent at the Faulkner Words and Music Festival in 2012. What could I give her except part of Michèle? So, thirty pages of Michèle went off to the agent, and we met.
She loved the story, encouraged me, and gave me some tips. Fired up and ready to go, I packed up my manuscript and computer and took off for a week alone to work on Michèle. My computer keys burned. My fingers ached. I wrote, and rewrote, and edited, and cut, and added… and thought. The freedom to think! What a powerful gift.
But then, I packed up my manuscript and computer and went home. And Michèle sat some more.
Recently I went to a party in a museum dedicated to the history of New Orleans’ free people of color. Strolling through the museum, I learned enough to realize Michèle needs revision. Some of my story is cliché. Some is downright inaccurate.
I’m returning to the museum to do further research, and I’ve scheduled a meeting with a professor at Tulane who is an expert on free people of color of New Orleans. Michèle is still sitting, but I am thinking.
It’s been ten years since I clipped the article. If it takes ten more years to finish the story,
I’ll be 77 years old.
Harriet Doerr published her first novel, Stones for Ibarra, when she was 73 years old.
There’s still hope for Michèle! And me.
The Story of a Story
22 Monday Oct 2012
Posted in The Writing Life, We're Inspired
Carol, youth has no age. Can’t wait to read Michele! xo
Carol. Carol. Carol. Hope? Pshah. Certainty! Michele’s story, the voice you gave her, the setting and details are so rich. It must be so hard to stay focused when your life is fo full, when NOLO events and politics suck the life out of you and give it back again. I’m thinking you and I need to take a week and be roomies again and finish our WsIP!!! Michele deserves it as do her readers.:)
You’re the best, Sue.
Your story reminded me so much of myself, in that I too have a clipping that has been tacked to my board for several years now. Just as Michele called to you, my “Hasty” calls to me, reminding me that she has so much more to say, if only I would make time for her.
It’s nice to hear another writer express what I’ve felt, as the days go by much too rapidly. I must continually choose whether to give her the time she so richly deserves, or succumb to the pressures and responsibilities of doing things that provide a necessary income.
You words have given me hope and inspiration. Perhaps it’s time to tuck a few things away for a while, so that Hasty can come out to play.
) Thanks!
Good luck to you and Hasty! Just the name, Hasty, makes me want to read your story. Must be verrrrrry original. All the best. Thanks for posting.
I am the poster child for taking eons to write and publish my first book. But also for giving advice never to give up! Your story sounds fascinating.
Thank you for the comment! May we all, someday, WRITE THOSE BOOKS!!!!! Good luck,