We know I don’t do a whole ton of ads but if you look on the right hand side there under the paypal thingy, I’ve added an affiliate link to Audible. You can try it out for a month and get a free audiobook. I LOVE audiobooks and honestly it works out for all of us. So if you wanna do that, it’s there.
Second bit of business.
I am announcing a major thing next week and am going to need some help and probably a little proverbial bum rubbing soothing type shit.
So, Yeah Write this week holy shitballs. Focus on Historical Fiction.
Honestly while I’ve read a good bit of it, my entry this week was the first time I’ve ever tried to write any. I’ve always thought of historical fiction as kind of a no go zone for me personally. A lot of historical fiction I’ve read I just haven’t really cared about.
Well per usual Whiteness. WHitewashed history from everywhere in the world is just not really my jam at all.
Now my first instinct was to go ancient history. I’m a fanatic for ancient history and considered doing a flash piece to take place in Babylon.
But then I started thinking about my own history. I turned 38 last month and I was thinking about the history I have witnessed and how it is rare that historical fiction has touched on my history as a Black person in America that doesn’t involve slavery.
I flashed on Rodney King. I was in high school at the time and I can tell y’all that shit devastated me. To that point while I already knew to mistrust police in general and avoid speaking to them when possible, I had not really experienced that type of violence in my life.
I remember watching that man get beaten and then in my very White area having to hear what people said about him. Memories like that led to things like this piece.
During the Riots I started learning how to see them outside of the lens of Whiteness and little old teenaged me, mouse me realized that I got it.
I fucking understood. In my heart, I wanted them to burn down the entire city. I felt in my heart that I understood and connected with that level of rage.
I wanted to dip into that time and a voice. I was thinking about girls I knew like the narrator. I had the voice I wanted. And the time and it happened.
I also played with the sense of memory and remembering. She wasn’t really telling the story but thinking it so I played with the tenses a little. Past, present and past at the end. I did do that on purpose based on how I remember things.
Now I’ve written some stuff before that was set in the past but, I hadn’t really made the emotional connection to calling it historical fiction because that is not what I’ve seen historical fiction be.
And let’s pause there.
That is something pretty profound to me.
From reading (affiliate links sorry) Ancient Evenings: A Novel and things like that as a kid, even when they were about POC it wasn’t ever Black lit.
Or if it was historical and written by a Black person, it wasn’t ever historical fiction it was Black fiction only.
There was an important emotional and visceral connection I had to make. My history is history.
That is at the core of a lot of me finding my voice and using it. I have had to emotionally and viscerally reclaim things I thought belonged to (as I would have said at one time) real writers and as I would say now Whiteness.
I am 90% sure I will return to that voice from that story. Stories like hers and others that are floating around in my head deserve to told and honored as history.
Okay that’s all for right now.