Good morning Jami, in my research for my novel that takes place in the jazz age and burlesque, I found a fascinating dancer who has been with me for the years I’ve been writing. Sally Rand was a creative burlesque dancer in real life who invented and reinvented herself for 50 years. She financially saved the 1933 Chicago worlds fair with her risqué feather dance. I’ve read biographies and followed her legacy on the internet. All this for a secondary character! But what an amazing artist I’m happy to moralize in my story.
Mary Magdalene. The seven demons. The disciple to the disciples. The woman fascinates me. Not the divine feminine that others have embodied her with, but the woman who had seven demons cast out of her and watched her hopes and salvation die horribly. Like, her dark night of the soul. Also, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Elizabeth I and Jane Gray raised in Katherine Parr’s household and Lady Idina Gordon … I might have hyperfixations and easy access to research materials. And all for different reasons. There are so many more, honestly.
Marilyn Stanton was my Anatomy & Physiology professor in college. Wearing polyester suits and blouses with great bow ties on the front (her 70s wardrobe unchanged in the 80s), she cheerfully filled a chalkboard every class from top left to bottom right. Mrs. Stanton was the wife of a practicing audiologist and mother of three. She "helped" at her husband's office (probably ran it) in addition to teaching classes at the university. She held us to furiously high standards. She raised the bar of what I saw was possible, true to herself, ignoring trends and styles and external rewards, and working with joy. In those days, I knew few women with her expertise or confidence. She showed what a person (and woman) could accomplish by just doing their own thing in their own way. She was indelible.
I met Kakaygeesick, an Ojibwe medicine man, when I was 10 years old visiting the place where my mother grew up, the granddaughter of Swedish immigrant homesteaders who staked their claim on unceded Red Lake Indian land. After my mother died in 2014, I returned to Warroad, Minnesota, and met the great-grandchildren of Kakaygeesick whose story sparked my current work-in-progress DISPOSSESSED.
Andrea Gibson for sure. Their poetry, their reflections on the world and life, their insights... they inspire me daily. They are rooted in hope and love and softness in a world that always tells you to be hard and unyielding. Definitely one of my greatest influences in writing and in living. 💖
Paul Kalanithi, author of When Breath Becomes Air, a memoir he started writing after being diagnosed with cancer. Kalanithi knew that he was dying, and finishing his book was, toward the end, his obsession. He wanted to leave a trace, to share his story, to help people appreciate the present moment and open their eyes on what truly matters in life. Kalanithi's wisdom keeps me grounded when life gets overwhelming. It reminds me of what truly matters: my family, my friends, and of course, writing
Caleb Brewster, one of the first spies in American history. Everyone else he worked with adopted code names when passing information, but he signed his notes with his real name. That ballsiness stuck with me so much that he inspired a character in my current novel set in the same time period and I absolutely had to keep the name Caleb.
This is a beautiful piece, explaining the genesis of your novel. I have written two historical fiction novels loosely based on family history going back 400 years. My first was inspired by the life of a voyageur, one of the first colonists to New France in 1620. As a descendant, I wondered what his legacy meant to the development of my life and our modern family dynamic. My latest novel was also inspired by a settler, more recent, my grandfather, whose family immigrated from Isle of Man due to sickness and poverty. The first book was written with curiosity and compassion, and a lot of anger. I almost titled it The End-time of Anger, but instead titled it Becoming Sand, for all the loss. The new one, entitled Time Enough, and was written with love, wonder and admiration. So, two people inspired me: one unknown to me, the other beloved. Both books took over ten years to write, I learned so much, and they were a gift even through the struggles. I know what you mean about the enduring, close nature of the characters, who develop a life of their own. They don’t belong to me. The fact that they live on the pages is a miracle. I will read your book, Jami. Thanks for this chance to reflect.
In my undergraduate studies at the University of Iowa, I took an essay writing class with Lucy Schiller that really cemented my understanding of why I love essay. She was the first teacher to demonstrate to me what it was like to look at the world through the lens of a writer, and it stuck with me. My first ever lit mag publication was an essay I wrote in her class.
My J. H. High teacher was the first person to “see me”. My single mom was busy raising kids and working. I was awkward, and had just moved from a sheltered life of a small town where religion was cultish.
I was trying to figure so much out and she encouraged my writing. I had undiagnosed dyslexia and was terrible, I knew.
Fast forward a few years and she ends up being my high school English teacher. I was in an abusive relationship with my first boyfriend. I tried to take my own life to escape it. She came to visit me in the hospital, her husband had took his own life the year before. She came to tell me the pain and loss the family feels. It wasn’t condescending or angry, it was so loving and so painful and honest.
I wrote to her on my graduation and told her all she had meant to me. In honest, it don’t think I’ll ever find the words.
There is a term called thin places where it feels like the heavens touch the earth- in that visit, in her words and pain-that’s what I felt like we touched.
I’m very empathetic and highly attuned to others emotions. I think it was a gift she passed on to me. I try my best to be kind to everyone, to be sensitive to strangers, and to try to put light into peoples days.
I still write if only for myself, because she knew, it’s a great way to find and unfind yourself.
My high school freshman English teacher, Ms. Janet Lake, who told me to keep writing. That was decades ago and still I hear her voice in my head when I want to give up because I don’t think my writing matters.
Five or six years ago, during a segment on women's history month, the local classical radio station introduced a piece by Ina Boyle with quote from a letter Ralph Vaughn Williams sent to her. He wrote, "it is most courageous of you to go on with so little recognition. The only thing to say is that is sometimes does come finally." I ordered hard-to-find recordings of Boyle's work and became obsessed with this quote. On the one hand, yay, Williams is supporting this female composer. But on the other...is he really? The first time I heard this quote I was interpreted it as condescension, as if he's patting her on the head for trying her little womanly brain at writing music. I've never attempted historical fiction, but when I do, I'm starting with this letter.
Williams' comment sounds genuine to me, not a pat on the head but one of support, like he knows from experience. I love Lark Ascending. I'll have to check out Ina Boyle. Thanks!
Yes, I agree with you, but what I find interesting is that my 21st century self immediately assumed he was being condescending. I think there is something worth exploring there. Also, I love this idea defining courage as continuing without recognition. There's some meaty theme ideas in there. :)
Well, I’m currently in my neurodivergent discovery era learning how I relate to people is, well, different. One of the things I love about writing for children is I get to make brighter possibility models along with the less savory characters. I often feel like I’m Frankensteining almost. Myself as a kid included, full of anxiety, but braver in some ways. Honestly, I probably focus more on the mistakes people in my life made. Because those were too often more formative than what they did right. And kids make mistakes all the time, but I don’t let it end there. I see where it goes. I’m curious. We can all be better people. Even the baddies.
Robin Wall Kimmerer and Martin Prechtel inspire me with their commitment to the natural world, authentic voice, original detail, and gorgeous world-moving prose.
Good morning Jami, in my research for my novel that takes place in the jazz age and burlesque, I found a fascinating dancer who has been with me for the years I’ve been writing. Sally Rand was a creative burlesque dancer in real life who invented and reinvented herself for 50 years. She financially saved the 1933 Chicago worlds fair with her risqué feather dance. I’ve read biographies and followed her legacy on the internet. All this for a secondary character! But what an amazing artist I’m happy to moralize in my story.
Love her
Mary Magdalene. The seven demons. The disciple to the disciples. The woman fascinates me. Not the divine feminine that others have embodied her with, but the woman who had seven demons cast out of her and watched her hopes and salvation die horribly. Like, her dark night of the soul. Also, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Elizabeth I and Jane Gray raised in Katherine Parr’s household and Lady Idina Gordon … I might have hyperfixations and easy access to research materials. And all for different reasons. There are so many more, honestly.
Marilyn Stanton was my Anatomy & Physiology professor in college. Wearing polyester suits and blouses with great bow ties on the front (her 70s wardrobe unchanged in the 80s), she cheerfully filled a chalkboard every class from top left to bottom right. Mrs. Stanton was the wife of a practicing audiologist and mother of three. She "helped" at her husband's office (probably ran it) in addition to teaching classes at the university. She held us to furiously high standards. She raised the bar of what I saw was possible, true to herself, ignoring trends and styles and external rewards, and working with joy. In those days, I knew few women with her expertise or confidence. She showed what a person (and woman) could accomplish by just doing their own thing in their own way. She was indelible.
I love this so much Tara! I can really see her. Glad you met her.
Thanks for the prompt! Im enjoying other people's memories, too. :-)
I met Kakaygeesick, an Ojibwe medicine man, when I was 10 years old visiting the place where my mother grew up, the granddaughter of Swedish immigrant homesteaders who staked their claim on unceded Red Lake Indian land. After my mother died in 2014, I returned to Warroad, Minnesota, and met the great-grandchildren of Kakaygeesick whose story sparked my current work-in-progress DISPOSSESSED.
Andrea Gibson for sure. Their poetry, their reflections on the world and life, their insights... they inspire me daily. They are rooted in hope and love and softness in a world that always tells you to be hard and unyielding. Definitely one of my greatest influences in writing and in living. 💖
✨💯
Paul Kalanithi, author of When Breath Becomes Air, a memoir he started writing after being diagnosed with cancer. Kalanithi knew that he was dying, and finishing his book was, toward the end, his obsession. He wanted to leave a trace, to share his story, to help people appreciate the present moment and open their eyes on what truly matters in life. Kalanithi's wisdom keeps me grounded when life gets overwhelming. It reminds me of what truly matters: my family, my friends, and of course, writing
Ah that is such a wonderful, heartbreaking yet uplifting book! and your words are a good reminder that I should re-read soon.
Caleb Brewster, one of the first spies in American history. Everyone else he worked with adopted code names when passing information, but he signed his notes with his real name. That ballsiness stuck with me so much that he inspired a character in my current novel set in the same time period and I absolutely had to keep the name Caleb.
This is extremely cool, thank you for sharing!
This is a beautiful piece, explaining the genesis of your novel. I have written two historical fiction novels loosely based on family history going back 400 years. My first was inspired by the life of a voyageur, one of the first colonists to New France in 1620. As a descendant, I wondered what his legacy meant to the development of my life and our modern family dynamic. My latest novel was also inspired by a settler, more recent, my grandfather, whose family immigrated from Isle of Man due to sickness and poverty. The first book was written with curiosity and compassion, and a lot of anger. I almost titled it The End-time of Anger, but instead titled it Becoming Sand, for all the loss. The new one, entitled Time Enough, and was written with love, wonder and admiration. So, two people inspired me: one unknown to me, the other beloved. Both books took over ten years to write, I learned so much, and they were a gift even through the struggles. I know what you mean about the enduring, close nature of the characters, who develop a life of their own. They don’t belong to me. The fact that they live on the pages is a miracle. I will read your book, Jami. Thanks for this chance to reflect.
In my undergraduate studies at the University of Iowa, I took an essay writing class with Lucy Schiller that really cemented my understanding of why I love essay. She was the first teacher to demonstrate to me what it was like to look at the world through the lens of a writer, and it stuck with me. My first ever lit mag publication was an essay I wrote in her class.
My J. H. High teacher was the first person to “see me”. My single mom was busy raising kids and working. I was awkward, and had just moved from a sheltered life of a small town where religion was cultish.
I was trying to figure so much out and she encouraged my writing. I had undiagnosed dyslexia and was terrible, I knew.
Fast forward a few years and she ends up being my high school English teacher. I was in an abusive relationship with my first boyfriend. I tried to take my own life to escape it. She came to visit me in the hospital, her husband had took his own life the year before. She came to tell me the pain and loss the family feels. It wasn’t condescending or angry, it was so loving and so painful and honest.
I wrote to her on my graduation and told her all she had meant to me. In honest, it don’t think I’ll ever find the words.
There is a term called thin places where it feels like the heavens touch the earth- in that visit, in her words and pain-that’s what I felt like we touched.
I’m very empathetic and highly attuned to others emotions. I think it was a gift she passed on to me. I try my best to be kind to everyone, to be sensitive to strangers, and to try to put light into peoples days.
I still write if only for myself, because she knew, it’s a great way to find and unfind yourself.
This is beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing 💕
My high school freshman English teacher, Ms. Janet Lake, who told me to keep writing. That was decades ago and still I hear her voice in my head when I want to give up because I don’t think my writing matters.
Love this a lot!
Five or six years ago, during a segment on women's history month, the local classical radio station introduced a piece by Ina Boyle with quote from a letter Ralph Vaughn Williams sent to her. He wrote, "it is most courageous of you to go on with so little recognition. The only thing to say is that is sometimes does come finally." I ordered hard-to-find recordings of Boyle's work and became obsessed with this quote. On the one hand, yay, Williams is supporting this female composer. But on the other...is he really? The first time I heard this quote I was interpreted it as condescension, as if he's patting her on the head for trying her little womanly brain at writing music. I've never attempted historical fiction, but when I do, I'm starting with this letter.
Williams' comment sounds genuine to me, not a pat on the head but one of support, like he knows from experience. I love Lark Ascending. I'll have to check out Ina Boyle. Thanks!
Yes, I agree with you, but what I find interesting is that my 21st century self immediately assumed he was being condescending. I think there is something worth exploring there. Also, I love this idea defining courage as continuing without recognition. There's some meaty theme ideas in there. :)
Don't have anything to add but loved reading everyone's answers.
Well, I’m currently in my neurodivergent discovery era learning how I relate to people is, well, different. One of the things I love about writing for children is I get to make brighter possibility models along with the less savory characters. I often feel like I’m Frankensteining almost. Myself as a kid included, full of anxiety, but braver in some ways. Honestly, I probably focus more on the mistakes people in my life made. Because those were too often more formative than what they did right. And kids make mistakes all the time, but I don’t let it end there. I see where it goes. I’m curious. We can all be better people. Even the baddies.
Ada Limon, Aimee Nezhukamatathil, Mary Oliver, Sandra Cisneros are all women who I’m fascinated by and write towards.
Robin Wall Kimmerer and Martin Prechtel inspire me with their commitment to the natural world, authentic voice, original detail, and gorgeous world-moving prose.
Braiding Sweetgrass is such a profound, beautiful book.