A Bit Like Patton…

The hardest thing about historical fiction isn’t deciding what to include, but what to exclude. Unless you’re dealing with the absolute sparsest of subjects, there is simply no way you can ever put it all in. There’s just too much.

In this way, writing historical fiction is eerily similar to adapting a novel into a movie. When you’re adapting a 400 or 500 page book into a movie, something has to give. Compromises have to be made. And it’s no different when translating actual, recorded history into a consumable (and marketable) story.

I’ve been battling with this a lot lately with Son of the Republic. The plot is there, the sequence of events, but what I choose to bring to the top, gloss over, or leave out will quite literally dictate the tone of the entire story.

I had all this in mind when I sat down to watch my nice, shiny Blu-ray of Patton over the weekend. Now, it’s probably been ten years or more since I last saw the movie, and watching it with fresh eyes, I was amazed at the economy with which it tells its story. For such a big film, the scope is kept surprisingly small, with a laser focus on Patton for almost the entire run time. Battles are few and far between, rarely seen unfolding, more often glimpsed in newspaper headlines and propaganda reels. Patton’s drive across Sicily, up to Palermo then across to Messina, is talked about, but not much of it is really seen. And it works.

Reviewing the classic has given me a lot to chew on as far as how I approach Son of the Republic. And in all honesty, it’s sent me back to the drawing board as far as what to include, and what to leave out…

The Opening Crawl

These past two weeks haven’t exactly been conducive to writing. Between sinus infections, a general increase in Nolan’s pissiness levels (due to his own sinus infection), work drama, stacked deadlines, and a thousand other piddling annoyances, I haven’t been able to marshal my thoughts as well as I’d like.

That said, I’ve managed to make some forward progress on the new Scipio novel. I’ve come to some decisions about story structure and character development. I’m toying with a different ending for one of the non-Scipio main characters, a young legionary who’ll provide the lowly foot soldier’s perspective of the Spanish campaigns (an ending that will make those who know their history squeal with glee). And, to cap it off, I’ve jotted down a draft of the novel’s opening crawl, intended to set the stage without forcing the reader to crack a history book and familiarize themselves with the first seven years of the Second Punic War:

Seven years have passed since Hannibal Barca led his army across the Alps and descended upon Italy. After a string of devastating defeats, the reeling Roman Republic has abandoned any attempt to meet the brilliant Carthaginian general head-on, and the pitched battles of the early war have given way to the long grind of siege and skirmish.

Now, at last, the weight of Roman arms has started to shift the balance. One by one, the cities and towns which defected to Hannibal during the Republic’s darkest hour fall to the legions. But Hannibal remains at large, as fearsome an opponent as ever.

Meanwhile, in faraway Spain, Carthaginian reinforcements threaten to break the long stalemate, and the brothers Gnaeus and Publius Scipio lead their legions south in a desperate bid to defeat Hannibal’s brothers before they can join forces…

It definitely needs tinkering, but hey, it’s a start. And after the way the last two weeks have unfolded, I’ll take it.

The Importance of Abandoning Crap

This American Life’s Ira Glass talks about the challenge of finding a good story and the importance of abandoning crap:

The entire video deserves a massive amen.

In a way, it also reminds me of a recent episode of Mad Men, where the new Brit whip-cracker is getting on Don’s case about the waste and inefficiency in the creative department. To which Don replies “my team needs to be unproductive so they can be productive”.

There’s more than a grain of truth here. Whether writing a novel or a few lines of feature copy, storyboarding a video, developing a content plan, or even putting together a solid presentation, it takes time to figure out the best approach and coax out the best story. And often, the mediocre stories, or the ones that just aren’t clicking, have to be killed. Which is exactly why I’ve jumped from topic to topic trying to determine the best course for the next novel. Better to kill things off at the outset than when you’ve already fought yourself halfway down that road.

Back to Scipio…

A little more than a year has passed since I finished whittling The Scourge of Rome down to around 140,000 words. In the months since, I’ve beat my head against the wall of history trying to settle on what to write about next. I’ve jumped from Alaric and the Visigoths to the Cannae Legions, the continuing adventures of Scipio and friends, back to Alaric, and, more recently, to the Byzantine general Belisarius.

It’s been frustrating, this bouncing back and forth through history, touching on a great story idea only to have it wither on the vine.

Then, earlier this week, inspiration struck. Or, rather, inspiration coalesced.

The next novel is going to be about Scipio.

From This To That…

For the past week or so, I’ve been rethinking a long-form Belisarius novel built around the theme of squandered potential. If anything, I think this is the key takeaway from the life of the Byzantine general, by all accounts an honest, pious, incorruptible man, and the greatest military mind of late antiquity.

Belisarius accomplished some truly staggering feats in his service to the Emperor Justinian, and he did so with style and compassion. He stands virtually alone in the ancient and medieval worlds as a general who insisted his soldiers behave honorably toward the civilian population. You may recall Rumsfeld famously predicting the Iraqis would greet U.S. forces with flowers back in 2003. Well, in Africa in 533 A.D., that’s precisely what happened. And again in Italy in 536. He was held in such esteem that his Gothic enemies offered to make him their king in 540, an offer he exploited to capture Ravenna and complete the conquest of Italy in as peaceful a manner as possible.

Belisarius was truly a remarkable man, and yet he was hobbled almost his entire career by pettiness and intrigue back in Constantinople. He was denied men and material, recalled at the height of his triumphs, but before he could win the peace. He had his rank stripped twice, and the second time had his household troops disbanded and auctioned off to eager bidders. Late in life, when he managed to turn back a Hunnic invasion with a hastily assembled force that couldn’t properly be called an army, he received no commendations. His loyalty was repaid with suspicion and disgrace, and as a result, Africa smoldered for years, beset by revolts, while the war in Italy – which should have ended in 540 – dragged on for another 14 years, and left Italy so broken that there was nothing to stop the Lombards from invading in 568.

One can imagine Belisarius looking back on his life and recognizing this squandered potential. He might even have asked himself what might have been had he – and more importantly Justinian – been better men than they were. Had they not let themselves be swamped by intrigues and the pettiness of others. That, I think, would be the main thrust of the story, the realization that the baser sides of human nature can wreck even the best of intentions and the loftiest of ambitions (no bearing on our present day…heh).

I’ve been trying to dig a story out of Belisarius’ career that pivots around that theme, and along the way, it seems the question – what might have been? – has pushed me in another, complementary direction.

What if I explored what might have been?

Let me explain.

In 542, Belisarius was once again in the east, campaigning against the Persians. It was a cautious campaign. Plague (yes, the plague) was sweeping through the Empire, and both sides were at pains to keep it from catching and spreading through their armies. Belisarius managed to coerce the Persian army out of imperial territory when word arrived from Constantinople – Justinian had contracted the plague.

Figuring he was in all likelihood dead already, the eastern generals met and decided they would not endorse any successor named in Constantinople in their absence.

As it happened, Justinian miraculously survived, and as he recovered, the Empress Theodora took action. She viewed the generals’ decision as a personal affront, and used it as a pretext to fling one into prison and strip the other – Belisarius – of his rank as supreme commander of the eastern armies. Though he was later restored to favor and send to salvage the situation in Italy, Belisarius’ career never recovered. The distrust lingered, and his urgent requests for more men were ignored. He struggled on for five years, hopelessly outmatched by the larger Gothic forces, and when he was finally recalled in 548 (upon Theodora’s death), he had little to show for his efforts. It would take another six years and a massive dedication of manpower to finally bring the war to a close.

But what if Justinian had died of the plague?

In all likelihood, the eastern generals would have proclaimed Belisarius emperor. Meanwhile, in Constantinople, Theodora would have certainly remarried (perhaps to Justinian’s nephew Germanus) and had her husband named emperor.

And, just like that, you’d have civil war and the makings of a really great alternate history.

As of now, I’m still plugging away at the actual, historical Belisarius, but I have to admit the alternate history version is knocking around in the back of my head.

Plotting Along

After last weekend’s cram session to get the partial request for The Scourge of Rome packaged up and out the door, my mind is finally turning back to the Belisarius novel, and it’s firing on all kinds of cylinders it never has before.

Great. Just great.

A few weeks back, I started to realize that the great Byzantine general’s life is just too massive to cover in the span of a single novel. After a lot of mental back-and-forth, I finally arrived at the decision to stick to his early career, a five year period that takes him from the Middle East to Constantinople and concludes with the conquest of the Vandal kingdom in Africa.

I even started writing a bit.

Over the past few days, though, I’ve cracked some crucial character dynamics and arrived at a theme that could really drive a story sweeping Belisarius’ entire career. And I love it. I absolutely love it. I can see whole chunks of the story slotting into place.

The only thing is…this puts me back at square one. Belisarius’ career spans thirty-five years, six campaigns, and literally dozens of battles. It’s just too big. Any story tackling the expanse of his career would, by necessity, have to cut out whole swaths, not unlike a book being adapted to film.

So now…I’m at an impasse. Write the shorter story with more nuance and detail, or the longer, very character driven one, and find a way to skim past the bulk of his campaigns…

A Novel Direction

There’s a lot to be said for letting things percolate.

A few weeks ago, I had something of a freak out over the novel I’d been busy researching. The life of the Byzantine general Belisarius was just too big, it seemed, to fit into a single novel, at least without sacrificing the level of detail and nuance I was after. An established author could probably pull it off with a 350,000 word tome, but few agents or publishers would glance at something even half that long from an aspiring writer.

So I backed away.

Writing Can Be Hard…

Writing can be hard. But not so hard as figuring out what to write.

It’s now been, what, two years and change since I finished the first draft of The Scourge of Rome? Since then, I’ve been beating my head against a wall trying to figure out what to write next. Alaric? The Cannae legions? Alaric again? The Scourge of Rome’s sequel?

Somehow, for some reason, nothing seemed to stick.

And now I’m running up against the same wall with regard to the latest plan – a novel about the Byzantine general Belisarius.

Too Much of a Good Thing…

Ever since I put the finishing touches on The Scourge of Rome, I’ve been in a strange sort of limbo state regarding what to write next. At first I honed in on Alaric, the Visigoth who sacked Rome, but then I bounced back to the Second Punic War, went through a few ideas, and finally ended up right where I started. 

I’ve been researching the Alaric novel for a few months now, and while I have an absolutely killer first chapter mapped out, the rest of the story is…dense. The real story of Alaric isn’t that of a rampaging barbarian tearing down an empire. It’s far more nuanced than that. He was, for the better part of his career, actually working with the empire, albeit walking a delicate tightrope between the Eastern and Western courts (the propaganda machines of which did much of the bloodthirsty-barbarian-casting).

Now…I like big books…and I find the “true” story of Alaric endlessly fascinating. I love that his sack of Rome wasn’t a triumph in any way, but rather a monumental failure that was the result of a breakdown in diplomacy. But, as a novel, I just don’t know how satisfying it would be, especially considering he died months after the sack, having basically accomplished nothing. With all the intrigue the reader would have to wade through, I don’t know if such a bummer of an ending would really hold up.

So, once again, I’m back to doubting my basic topic, and casting my eyes afield for something else. Something perhaps a bit less ambitious in scope and more direct in its narrative. 

If there’s one thing I learned writing The Scourge of Rome, it’s that history is a lot more dense, complicated, and messy than it appears at first glance. Even writing that, I had to cut back my goal of covering the entire sixteen year history of the Second Punic War and settle for the first two years. And even then, it was still a massive story. Tackling the entire life of a figure as complex as Alaric would, I think, be even more daunting (and less accessible).

But if not Alaric, then what, or who?

My first thought was Marcus Agrippa, the right hand of Augustus and probably my second-greatest historical man crush beside Scipio Africanus. It’s his loyalty that fascinates me. Here was a man who basically shared power with Augustus, and for a considerable amount of time wielded equal authority, but who never moved to sieze it all for himself, even when he he had ample opportunity. But, as with Alaric, his story is long and winding.

Then there are the other personalities I’ve considered. Roussel de Bailiol, the Norman mercenary who screwed over the Byzantines at Manzikert and went on to establish a rogue kingdom in Asia Minor, to the dismay of the Byzantines and Turks alike. Or El Cid. Or Charles Martel, who halted Muslim expansion into Europe.

But for some reason, my mind keeps coming back to the great Byzantine general, Belisarius. Taking on the entirely of Belisarius’ exploits would no doubt be too much for one book – I mean the guy beat back the Persians, ended the Nika Riots that threatened to overthrow the Emperor Justinian, and retook Africa and Italy from their barbarian overlords. But handled in chunks…it could be doable. One particular episode stands out to me – his defense of Rome in 536/7. 5,000 men against an army of 50,000 and he pulled it off. You can read about it HERE. That defense could, I think, make for an awesome story in its own right. 

I guess it’s time to research.

Fortune is a Fickle Goddess…

Time to step away from the maddening world of electoral politics for a quick progress report on the writing side of things.

These past three weeks, I’ve been going back over old notes, piecing together timelines, and composing a story treatment for my second novel in the War With Hannibal saga, tentatively titled Fortune is a Fickle Goddess. The sequel will follow the further adventures of Scipio, Fabius and friends in their continuing struggle with the legendary Carthaginian commander. 

One crucial difference this time around is that Fortune lacks the same linear narrative thread that held the first book together. In The Scourge of Rome, the progression of events led from one battle to the next, from Ticinus to Trebbia, Trasimene, and ultimately Cannae. When Fortune picks up in the spring of 215 B.C., Roman strategy has shifted. The Senate, stung by the disastrous loss at Cannae, has finally embraced Fabius’ strategy of avoiding direct confrontation with Hannibal and his tactical brilliance. Instead, they focus their efforts on dividing Hannibal’s attention and striking where he is not. Brilliant though he may be, Hannibal is still one man with one army. He cannot be everywhere at once.

Thus, where the first book was filled with epic battles, the second will focus more on the divide-and-conquer strategy, on sieges and subterfuge, and on political intrigue in the Senate. There is still drama aplenty, with the everpresent knowledge that one misstep could result in disaster and once again put the Republic within a hair’s breadth of collapse, but for the most part this will be the story of how Rome battled back from the bring, how it hung on when just about any other society at the time would have accepted terms.

It is also, in many ways, a bridge novel, exploring the success and limitations of the Fabian doctrine and setting the characters up for the explosive events of the third and fourth novels.

Now that the story treatment is in place, I am just about ready to begin work on the draft. And this time around, I’m planning a different approach. With The Scourge of Rome, I labored overlong on the first pass, trying to get each word exactly right. As a result, it took three years to complete, and even then I found myself obliged to go through several extensive revisions to get it where I wanted it. This time, I am hoping to push through the first draft as quickly as possible, and rely more heavily on the revisions to properly polish the story. To that end, I am setting myself a goal – three hundred words per day.