History…Repeats

History repeats itself.

Over. And, over. And. Over.

I would like to believe that the idea that history is chronicled for posterity by the victors would at some point take a foothold and people make good choices. Even if the events and details get slightly fabricated or in whole, which, we all know happens A LOT, someone would read the damn book and get a clue!

You would think.

Well, my dear readers, for a writer like me who relishes in history and continues to study it even after my university years and degrees in it, history is my fuel for the fire I wield with my pen.

Or, fingertips, since I am using a computer to type all of this today.

I have found that my novels, or more specific to my argument, the ideas that become stories and foster the intricate weaving of details within the parameters of my works, are nine times out of ten grounded in some relevant historical event.

Or, idea. It all depends on the plot of the book.

That is not to say I write historical fiction. I do not really do that at all. What I do use are bits and pieces of history, whether true events that a character or characters partake in that then spawns their storyline, or take something that has happened and use that moment in time as the basis for the plot. Take out my knitting needles and work in real details with fictionalized interpretations to create a nice sweater or scarf you can put on to keep warm. All while enjoying the words I put on the pages to entertain and enthrall you for just a brief moment that we get to have together.

Until, the next book comes along.

For me, history is the perfect soup to put my ladle in, stir it all around, and then dip out a delicious bowl of historical reference for your consummation. In my mind, it makes the plot, a character or characters, more relatable because it creates a tether, a sinewy strand of ah-ha, that puts you, the reader, in the middle of the story. Smack dab inside right along with the action. Poke your brain with my finger to maybe, just maybe, make you think about a detail here or there and wonder, did I just write what you think I did?

Yup.

Then, in a masterful way that makes me, well, me, I turn it all on its head. Could it really happen that way? Did what the writer dude put in his book, could it, might it, oh wow, is it possible that events didn’t occur as everyone thought, but it all went down in a different way?

Planting the seed of doubt.

Hold on writer man. It’s all fiction. Nothing to see there. Right?

Well yes, I write fiction. However, as mentioned above, history is written by the fools, I mean, the ones that actually won or came out on top. The people who have at their disposal the ability to create the narrative and shove it down your throat. Um, I meant to say the fine upstanding citizens who have tools and printing presses or in this day and age, the evil internet, to publish the facts in stone that specify the truth.

Cough. Hack. Need a sip here to wet my throat.

Sarcasm people. Just the quippy whims of a writer making some points.

We writers, since I call myself that nowadays though I could just say that I’m a guy who miraculously finds time to share my words with you fine folk in book form or blog posts, we find inspiration wherever we can. It can be from the relationships we have with family and friends, to the interactions with people we meet. Even just the day to day observations staring out the window as our minds wander and we get the chance to daydream. A thought strikes from somewhere and like a small child who bounces a ball up and down, it gets our attention because man, that kid can really dribble like a pro, and if it stays, it might becomes a plot.

Or, find its way to the proverbial trash can.

For me, the history repeats itself holds a very real grip. I repeat that adage myself with my writings. Not in the sense that I use the same details or events over and over, changed to suit my requirements.

No.

I repeat the concept that I use tiny bits of real history events or details in some rhyme or fashion, within the confines of my novels. Every single book, or so it seems as you have not had the pleasure yet of seeing all of my works published.

I’m going as fast I can to get the finished goods out the door. There are a lot waiting for you. Honest. I am trying to keep you entertained.

To me, history creates starting points to my creative journey. A real event occurs and strikes a cord in my mind. How could I weave this into a plot for a book, is the dilemma I then face. That skull tapping finger happens.

A lot.

Or, my vast knowledge of the past pecks away at my brain. In slumberland as I walk around enjoying some peace and quiet from the real world, it suddenly decides to veer off course and remember something I have read or seen. Hey, the intruder in my head says, the always annoying writer dude who follows me around like the plague, he goes, what if you take this historical event and put your spin on it? I try to ignore him, really I do, when I’m just trying to catch some shuteye. I occasionally wonder what would happen if I just sort of pushed him off the cliff and walked away.

Oopsie.

He would survive, my friends. That guy is resilient like no one I know. The act of pushing him is more to give me back some space, some quiet time for just me. I find that there are days where I have so much sensory overload on potential plots to write about that my head spins.

Like some kind of demonic owl where my head turns like a Ferris wheel.

An idea plants a toe stopping the door from closing shut. Then, I have to think about it. It festers like an open wound, until I go, well, I better write this down so that some day in the future it becomes one of my thrillers. Or, it gets tabled in the memory banks. Because for this poor guy, one, I literally cannot type fast enough to produce all the developed plots and storylines I have completed in my head. Second, for the ones I do have written down in some end result, I really need to get them out the gate before I tackle more to cloud my already fragile mind.

Focus. That’s the over-arching nemesis of the writer.

Really though, focus haunts everyone. In some form or another. In history, go with me here, focus is what gets lost because it has a tendency nearly one hundred percent of the time, dramatic leap here, the lack of it happens over and over. Time and time again until it just seems like that is the way it goes. No way to change the facts.

Well, not so fast.

For me the writer, that is my in. We have to find what we can wherever we can get it. Repetition is my foot in the door to create my world. The sliver of the road to take a fact, detail, event, and make it entirely my own.

The vein I can tap to draw blood.

Writing, whether for my pleasure just to keep my spirits shining bright, or to create for you all a novel to sit and let you escape reality, is my avenue I do over and over. It fuels my being down to the core. I could write about all kinds of things. Fantasy, futurism, science fiction, even romance if it suited me, but there is something about a book that has some grounding in things I know that sparks an interest. It could be minor, just a detail that goes off the rails to totally throw even me for a loop. Yet, it is that tiny piece of information taken from the real world, morphed into a clay that I can use my fingers to push and pull into a nice vase or bowl, that really gets me going.

Call it a theme.

Themes are those things in life some important person told you to watch out for because they have a tendency to keep showing up. See where I am going with this? History is full of themes, especially when you, hold for dramatic pause, realize that if you pay close attention, it has all happened before, albeit a different decade, century, and location. History is the fiction novel series that we cannot get enough of, no matter how hard we try.

OK writer guy. So, what is your point?

Hmmm, good question to ask. My take on it is that life is a book, a story that never ends. While the places change and the times are different, the details are all the same. What we control is the outcome, if we so choose. We, as human beings with opposable thumbs, unless you have had an industrial accident and I’ll leave out the gory details there, we decide how we view our history and what happens next.

Just like I present in my stories.

Take the information, process it, and go forth. Always keeping the 5 Ws in the back of your head. You know, who, what, where, when, and why. Oh, and please do not ignore the how. Then, just like I do, you write your own story. Take the details you encounter, the ones you know happen over ands over, and change them. Curtail the plot to your liking so that it not only makes sense, but that there is a beginning, a middle, and the must have for all things, a definite end.

Then, we are all writers with a magnificent story to tell that has a defined end.