Chapter 57
Boston, Massachusetts
December
THE STARBUCKS WAS like every other Starbucks. Although she would have preferred a tearoom that wasn’t a chain, Daphne Andrews did like their chai lattés and blueberry muffins.
Holding her Styrofoam cup with her name spelled “Dafny” and her muffin wrapped in paper, she spied Florence at a table with a man who looked as if he were in his early forties. She assumed he was around the same age as Florence.
He stood as Daphne walked over to the table. The area was almost empty but 10:00 was after the early morning and before the lunch rushes. She put down her cup and muffin amid folders on the round table and took his thrust hand.
“Jason Jenkins. And you are Daphne.”
They sat. Florence and Jason had muffins as well as coffee. Florence’s was blueberry, Jason’s looked to be chocolate.
Daphne had been late in leaving, because Gareth instead of going to work early as usual had puttered around the flat. He’d finally called for his driver at 9:10 and it had taken the man until 9:45 to wend his way through the end of Boston rush hour.
She had dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Her plans to change into something more businessy were forgotten. Better to be on time. Besides, she was supposed to be a writer and a historian and at 10 in the morning, informality could be considered normal.
She didn’t blame Gareth for his devotion to proper dress. He met with bankers and corporate leaders on behalf of the United Kingdom. Sweats would never have been appropriate. They were required to go to enough events where photos might be taken and as he said, “Who knows what rag they’ll appear in.”
“We waited for you.” Florence reached for the portfolio case.
“It was hard. She slapped my hand when I tried to look before you came.” He took the portfolio and began shuffling through the pages.
Both women didn’t say a word. Jason smiled and said things like “Mm, ahh, hmm.”
When he put the last page on the table, he looked at both women. He let silence hang.
Daphne wanted to scream, “What?” but Florence beat her too it.
Still Jason didn’t speak.
“Speak,” Florence said.
He took a deep breath. “The concept is fantastic. The drawing is beautiful. The writing is good, although I’d change a couple of the spellings to American.”
As he reached for one of the drawings, his hand hit Florence’s coffee, spilling it on the drawings. “Shit!”
“Don’t worry. They are all on the computer,” Florence said.
“Which is why I love computers,” he said. “It’s good for klutzes like me.”
“What can we tell you?” Daphne asked. She was good at probing. It had served her well with the old man at Scottish Tweed.
“How it ends with the battle of Lexington. Do you like the idea of Abigail dress up in her brother’s clothes?”
“I love everything about what you’ve done.”
“At first we were thinking of two books, one for Adam, one for Abigail.”
“I prefer one,” Jason said. “Here’s what I want to do. First, as Commission Editor, I still have to bring the manuscripts to a committee, which includes someone from sales. Educational publishing can be very political with different school boards and political correctness and all that.”
Both women nodded.
“Also, we are considering going into computer programs as well as doing more stuff online. This would be great for that. “Florence, have you ever done a computer game?”
“She shook her head. “I could learn.”
“I’m also thinking we could have a whole series of historical comics. We could be a new form of CliffsNotes.”
“Working with us? Or would you turn this over to your staff?”
Daphne was glad Florence had voiced her worries that he would steal their ideas.
“We could do it a number of ways. One: put you both on staff, which may not be too popular because of the cost of benefits.”
“Neither of us have working permits,” Daphne said.
“I suppose we can get those,” he said. “Or two, hire you as freelancers.”
“We still aren’t supposed to be working. I’m not sure what it would take to create a company. If we couldn’t have a company, could you buy our work from an overseas company?” Florence asked.
“That might be a way.”
“We don’t have a company …. yet!” Florence said. France is full of red tape, but my husband can help us get through much of it.”
“I want to get my marketing person in on our next meeting.” Jason folded the paper his muffin had been baked in. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll get back to you.” He hugged Florence, looked at Daphne. She held out her arms. “If we’re going to work together, maybe a hug is okay. To hell with Covid.”
After he left, the women sat quietly.
“I don’t believe it. Publishing shouldn’t be this easy.”
“Probably wouldn’t be if I didn’t know Jason. We might have shown it to another person or persons who would turn us down.”
“They should know how to sell it. “I mean we could research the market ourselves, if we wanted to publish ourselves but …”
“No need to reinvent the wheel.” Florence started gathering up the pages. “Take these home for final suggestions. Meanwhile, I have to fight the battle that had the shot heard round the world. I’m still not totally happy with what we have.”
Chapter 58
St. Gallen, Switzerland
WHAT MAKES A good writing day?
A day where the words come easily and there are few, or better still, no interruptions.
This was a good writing day to create the chapter where Alexander Leslie explains to General Gage why he didn’t retrieve the missing cannons. It was a day when I thought I wouldn’t be writing at all.
Rick and I were in St. Gallen, Switzerland. The city goes back to the 7th century. The hotel where we stayed goes back to the 1500s and there were half beams galore. It’s located in the heart of the old city near an abbey and a medieval library.
Rick was playing in a hickory golf tournament. Always a passionate golfer, he became entranced with groups using the ancient clubs, either reproduced or new. I go along whenever the location of a tournament interests me.
I planned a writing free day to poke more deeply into various historic sites I’d seen when we were there before.
After settling into the hotel, we walked around the area. We found a restaurant, a real treat after the pandemic shutdowns and quarantines of the last year. I tripped over a cement umbrella holder on the terrace, twisting my left foot. I wasn’t going to let it spoil my day. After breakfast the next morning I planned to limp around the old town.
If there is a good writing fairy who makes it possible to advance in your writing, she was out in force today. It started to rain.
Limping and getting soaked were a message from the universe: write. Back in our beautiful half-timbered room I opened my laptop.
The scene I wanted to work on and which I couldn’t get quite right was Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Leslie reporting why he failed in his mission to find the missing cannons. Although not generally well known as the Battle at Lexington, some historians claim it to be the opening of the American Revolution.
My research had produced many reports of the event including conversations. No matter the source, they were remarkably similar, making me comfortable with the authenticity of my content.
I needed to check on the origin of the song “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” The story behind the lyrics is that the lower classes stuck feathers in their caps to mock the higher classes. The feathers were then called macaroni. I never found out why.
Supposedly, the song went back to Oliver Cromwell’s time. As much as I would like to use the background about the song in the novel, it is too much information. At no time do I want to give the appearance of putting research into a book just because I have it. I should only use it when it is relevant. I couldn’t think of a way to make it relevant.
Good writing has more show than tell. I did not want to do a real-time show chapter on the encounter at Salem bridge because that would take the emphasis away from James.
I couldn’t have James go to Salem with Leslie, because Leslie’s was a different regiment. James was already stretched between duties in his regiment and to the General, who would have other things for James to do that day.
Then it came to me. I could put James in the scene because of his role as the General’s orderly. His observations of Leslie’s report allow me to sneak in the results of my research and move the plot forward, making it semi-show and semi-tell. I was able to show General Gage’s reactions as Leslie reveals what happened.
The good word fairy was working overtime to help me. My fingers had trouble keeping up with my brain.
I find long dialogues hard to write. I did it in three steps. First the dialogue itself. Then I went back to clarify who said what and add to the background.
In one paragraph I decided to rewrite several long sentences into even more short sentences. Multiple short sentences would help build the tension I wanted.
Finally, I added James’ observations to give more depth and to keep the point of view consistent. He can observe Gage’s anger rather than have it from Gage’s point of view.
Thank you, Word Fairy.
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