cj Sez: Lyrical Pens hosts a guest post today
from a wonderful storyteller, J. Arlene Culiner. And if you don’t believe me,
just read the fascinating story about the birthing of her new novel.
“Thanks, cj, for inviting me to Lyrical Pens so I can tell
everyone about my September 5th release: The
Turkish Affair. And, today, I’ve decided to take up the thorny subject of
how long it takes to write a book (a thorny subject indeed).
For me,
completing a manuscript can be a battle: sometimes words flow; sometimes, it’s
the desert. I dream of goals — a thousand words a day and several months to
completion — then have nothing to say after chapter six. Sometimes I’m
disgusted with the whole project and stop. So I’ll make a confession: The Turkish Affair took thirty-three years to write. Yup. That’s right.
Here’s the
how, why, when.
Unlike my
heroine Anne Pierson who fled to Turkey to escape a humiliating past, I longed
to abandon predictability. Once footloose and fancy free, I was now living in
France with a successful businessman husband. Life was easy, reasonable,
comfortable. Normal. Stultifying. Where was the adventure? What about
challenge, excitement and danger?
I soon
pulled up stakes, went to Turkey and began living with B. We had no
conversation — he knew almost no English; I had no Turkish. He was a
hard-working archaeologist; my life was frivolous: days spent with my new
friend Suzie, chatting in cafés, sailing out to sea, hammering away at grammar
books and wondering how to make money. B. finally sat me down at a desk in the
archaeological museum (an ancient crusader castle perched over the turquoise
sea) gave me a job listing recent finds: jars, figurines, shards. It was fun at
first; it sparked my interest in archaeology. But, after a while, it became
boring. Time to move on.
Like my
heroine Anne, I eventually spoke reasonable Turkish and was working in central
Turkey with a Turkish guide, Asim, and translating for tourists. It was a wild
area, with Siberian winters and heavy summers. And dangerous too: the police
were untrustworthy and violent; there was political unrest; there were frequent
arrests. When there was no work, I took buses and trains to other places; once,
with a Turkish friend, I went out to an unexcavated Hittite site on an empty
plain. There, an armed guard, a dreadful man, dangerous and obviously mad,
followed us, demanding baksheesh at gunpoint. If I survive this, I remember thinking, I’ll put him into a book.
Another
time, traveling southeast by bus, we pulled off the main road and into an
archaeological site. We were only there for a few minutes, delivering a package
of some sort. And staring idly out of the window, I caught sight of a man
ambling in the direction of a tumble of pillars and ruins. He was lean, supple,
and the bright sun caught the golden blaze of his hair. Who was he? An
archaeologist? But, with a puff of noxious smoke, the bus roared to life once
more, and we headed back toward the main road. That blond man’s image remained
with me over all these years: he was slated to become my hero, the
archaeologist Renaud Townsend.
Twenty
years later, I was living in a mud house in an eastern Hungarian village but
traveling back and forth to Romania to research the book I was writing (Finding
Home in the Footsteps of the Jewish Fusgeyers), trying to learn Hungarian,
preparing a major photography exhibition and investigating murders that had
taken place in 1946. My partner, H., worked and lived in Vienna, and only
showed up every second weekend — it was a long drive away. Not knowing enough
Hungarian to communicate with locals, I decided to amuse myself by writing a
second book, a more light-hearted one. The story had to be very different from
the history book I was working on; it had to be a romance; it had to have a
foreign setting with archaeological sites; it had to include the characters I’d
collected in Turkey: the blond man, the nasty guard, Asim, slothful Apo,
Komiser Bulduk.
And so I
began the first draft of The Turkish
Affair. And each time H. showed up, I translated the newest chapter into
German and read it out to him. H. loved the little game. So did I; I had become
Scheherazade. I even finished the whole manuscript. Then forgot about it.
Life had changed again. I was back in France.
This
winter, thirteen years after the Scheherazade episode, I remembered the
manuscript. I looked it over, winced, sighed, nodded. Then re-wrote it
entirely, refining the language — years of writing is the best apprenticeship —
basing the mystery on what really happened on one site, adding information
about the long-vanished Hittites and including true stories — yes, I did
actually travel to the coast with B. and several other archaeologists when they
were called in to authenticate ancient coins; yes, the places I describe really
do exist (the names have been changed).
Then, in
June, I sent the finished manuscript to Crimson Romance. And they wanted to
publish it. How’s that for a long story?”
About the author
Born
in New York, raised in Toronto, J. Arlene Culiner has spent most of her life in
England, Germany, Turkey, Greece, Hungary and the Sahara. She now resides in a
400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest and, much to public
dismay, protects all creatures, especially spiders and snakes. She works as an
actress, a photographer, a contemporary artist, a musician, writes mysteries,
history books and perfectly believable romances. Her heroines are funny and
gutsy; her heroes, dashingly lovable; and all are (proudly) over the age of
forty. You can reach her at any of the url addresses below.
http://j-arleneculiner.com
http://jill-culiner.com
http://anecdotes.over-blog.com
http://j-arleneculiner.over-blog.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7158064.J_Arlene_Culiner
https://www.facebook.com/jarlene.culiner
https://twitter.com/j-arleneculiner
The Turkish Affair book blurb: http://jill-culiner.com
http://anecdotes.over-blog.com
http://j-arleneculiner.over-blog.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7158064.J_Arlene_Culiner
https://www.facebook.com/jarlene.culiner
https://twitter.com/j-arleneculiner
Anne
Pierson was a top-notch Washington journalist until a liaison with the wrong
man implicated her in scandal. Years later, she's hiding out in backwoods
Turkey, working as a translator near the ancient Hittite site of Karakuyu,
determined to keep her past a secret and avoiding personal relationships. But
her quiet little world is turned upside down when she meets American
archaeologist Renaud Townsend.
When
Anne's reputation links her to stolen artifacts and murder at the dig site,
their budding romance comes skidding to a halt. To clear her name, Renaud and
Anne must learn to trust each other. But is there enough time to give love a
second chance?
https://www.amazon.com/Turkish-Affair-J-Arlene-Culiner-ebook/dp/B01KGO49XS
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/J.+Arlene+Culiner
cj Sez: Wow! Thanks for a great story about your lifetime of exciting adventures. Here’s wishing
you thousands of sales and wonderful reviews for The
Turkish Affair.
Got a question? Please drop it in the comments section
below. We’d love to hear from you. In the meantime, you-all guys keep on keeping
on, and I’ll try to do the same. (And don't forget to watch for the “More than Friends” romance novel bundle set to launch Sept 19.)
cjpetterson@gmail.com
Dear cj,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for giving me this opportunity to tell all.
J, I hope your memoir/autobiography is in the works someday. You're a brave soul! Thanks for the post and best of luck with your writing.
ReplyDeleteHi Kaye. Thanks for the vote of confidence. However I'm not so sure that an autobiography would be interesting. It's more fun picking out incidents from life and adding them to another sort of story; they sound so much more exciting that way. One quote I've never forgotten - it's my favorite — is from Crome Yellow, written by Aldous Huxley in around 1921: "Adventures and romance only take on their adventurous and romantic qualities at second-hand. Live them, and they are just a slice of life like the rest."
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks also for your comment.