Slow Going

I may have underestimated what it means to write a novel about a historical figure. Or maybe it’s normal to spend more time worrying and researching rather than writing. Part of my concern is directly related to the source material. It’s not that I don’t trust what I’m reading—even when it’s sketchy, I’ve decided to trust it—but there are massive gaps in the man’s life which complicates the foundation of my story. I spend much of my time trying to imagine his upbringing so as to understand his psychology as a man. There are many different ways each of us would tackle a problem, and how we were raised would have a significant influence.

The important milestones about the historical figure are dubiously documented, but that’s to be expected considering how long ago he lived. Examining the events does allow me to discern some of his inner turmoil, but it’s still a far cry from really understanding what he might have felt. In order to have a believable character, I myself have to believe how he would have acted in a given circumstance. I actually spent quite a bit of last week reflecting over historical events as they unfolded for him in the hopes of uncovering the driving force behind his endeavours.

Doubts aside, I think I feel something crystallizing. Maybe it’s just the hours of contemplation, but the historical figure is starting to feel more real. Let’s see what the week brings.