Keith Edmondson's Blog
June 12, 2015
The 63 Steppes
I had no idea where my first novel would take me when I started out. OK, I’d decided on some of the mechanics; style, chapter length etc, and it was going to be set in the early sixties, an era I had always been fascinated with. I was also going to write about things I was familiar with, or so I thought!
Being a research scientist I was paranoid about getting the facts of the period right and plunged into research on the internet with gusto. Even though I’d lived through the sixties my memory had obviously been very selective. I was also amazed at events which I had forgotten. I was hooked!
I knew I wanted to write about everyday people who got caught up in some major event of the time and see how they coped with it. The other thing which occurred to me was that it would be fun to mix up fact with fiction and let the reader work out which was which! (Alright, I was a bit slow in realising that was what historical fiction was all about!)
The research became a bit of an obsession and the wealth of data uncovered, embarrassing; it was time to take stock. There was what I can only describe as a ‘Eureka’ moment when I discovered JFK had made a private visit to the North of England before meeting up with Premier Harold Macmillan later in Summer 1963. The story was going to revolve around this little known event.
I had been quite secretive about keeping this project under my hat, possibly because I wasn’t sure if I could complete it and it sounds rather pretentious to announce to your friends – ‘I am writing a book.’ However, my increasingly reclusive behaviour had prompted concern over my wellbeing and it became necessary for me to admit to my latest folly. To my surprise they seemed delighted and I had many offers to read the work as I went on; this meant I had to finish it! If you’re familiar with the Yorkshire character, ‘I’ve read a lot worse!’ is regarded as a compliment, so in spite of it originally being a ‘bucket list’ item to be ticked off when completed, I ended up self-publishing “The 63 Steppes.”
I’m afraid to admit that I’ve not yet recovered from the addiction and I’ve completed a sequel, “From Czechoslovakia with Love” which is now at the editing stage at the time of writing. Is there a cure out there for this addiction?
Being a research scientist I was paranoid about getting the facts of the period right and plunged into research on the internet with gusto. Even though I’d lived through the sixties my memory had obviously been very selective. I was also amazed at events which I had forgotten. I was hooked!
I knew I wanted to write about everyday people who got caught up in some major event of the time and see how they coped with it. The other thing which occurred to me was that it would be fun to mix up fact with fiction and let the reader work out which was which! (Alright, I was a bit slow in realising that was what historical fiction was all about!)
The research became a bit of an obsession and the wealth of data uncovered, embarrassing; it was time to take stock. There was what I can only describe as a ‘Eureka’ moment when I discovered JFK had made a private visit to the North of England before meeting up with Premier Harold Macmillan later in Summer 1963. The story was going to revolve around this little known event.
I had been quite secretive about keeping this project under my hat, possibly because I wasn’t sure if I could complete it and it sounds rather pretentious to announce to your friends – ‘I am writing a book.’ However, my increasingly reclusive behaviour had prompted concern over my wellbeing and it became necessary for me to admit to my latest folly. To my surprise they seemed delighted and I had many offers to read the work as I went on; this meant I had to finish it! If you’re familiar with the Yorkshire character, ‘I’ve read a lot worse!’ is regarded as a compliment, so in spite of it originally being a ‘bucket list’ item to be ticked off when completed, I ended up self-publishing “The 63 Steppes.”
I’m afraid to admit that I’ve not yet recovered from the addiction and I’ve completed a sequel, “From Czechoslovakia with Love” which is now at the editing stage at the time of writing. Is there a cure out there for this addiction?
