Words At Large

You capture vivid details in your writing. Where do those details come from? Have you traveled extensively to Egypt?
I imagine in scenes rather than in words, that is, I imagine my senses engaging in a scene before I translate into words what my ears, eyes, nostrils, tongue tell me. Perhaps that's why I'm known for vivid detail. I'd like to think so. I've only been to Egypt twice, as a tourist, mainly to assure myself that the proportions and perspectives I've imagined have been correct. The modern nation is boisterous, noisy, and utterly engaging. It doesn't obscure the dignity of the ancient temples and monuments but it does make any short attempt at research difficult. That work is best done quietly at home with the aid of the many sources available. I'm as picky about the minutiae in my stories as I am about making sure that I have all the available facts regarding the lives of my characters - in most instances, that is. Several of my Egyptian novels are based on sketchy material with which I have taken liberties due to a paucity of information, but what was gleaned was too enticing to ignore!

In-depth research is a hallmark of your writing. How much license do you have when writing historical fiction? What expectations are there of accuracy in research details from readers, your publishers, yourself?
I suppose I have as much license as I want when writing historical fiction because after all, fiction comes from the imagination. However, my readers rely on me to ground my fiction firmly in fact, to extrapolate responsibly, in other words, to clothe the skeletons of the past in flesh and in doing so, begin with everything known about my characters and add breath, emotions, motives, loves, fears, and so on, from that foundation. So far I've not received any criticisms from readers. But there are often the kinds of questions that require lengthy replies, usually to do with the differing opinions of archaeologists and historians regarding certain conclusions I've come to, eg, - do I agree with the theory of co-regencies? What are my thoughts on the controversy over the age of the Great Sphinx? The arguments over the dating of the Exodus?

Egyptophiles are dedicated people. For many of my readers, the study of Egyptian history is an absorbing hobby. They expect a high standard of accuracy from me, and a love of that country as deep as their own. I do my very best to please them. s for my publishers, particularly in Europe, the closer I hold to historical fact the happier they are. For myself? I set out the facts of a character's life and begin to look between the chronological links. I become obsessed with motive. I make what I hope are logical, realistic assumptions about why so-and-so behaved as he or she did. This is the freedom an historical novelist can enjoy. An academician in the field cannot indulge in speculation.

When doing research for your books what has surprised you the most in your findings?
Honestly, nothing I've learned in my research has surprised me, unless it's how alike human beings are to one another although thousands of years separate us from the ancients. Modes of life may differ.

Fundamental everyday concerns do not.

Your work has been translated into 17 languages. How, if at all, does translation change the writer's intent or meaning?
I wish I could answer this question, but as I'm lamentably lacking in the knowledge of any language but English, I can only say that the sale of my novels in foreign languages seems to remain fairly constant. I do receive mail occasionally from French or Spanish readers who like my stories--to me this indicates the use of good translators on the part of my foreign publishers. Believe me, I'm grateful to them. A translator must not only know the language being translated but must also be alive to its idioms and usages as well as the writer's style and the often subtle shadings of intent.

You wrote Child of the Morning in six weeks and developed a personal mission statement: "Discard contemporary fiction, don't try to be significant, don't try to be relevant, just be myself." Has your mission statement changed over time? Why or why not?
My mission statement hasn't changed in thirty years. I don't think it ever will, because I cannot make sense of the maelstrom of the present on any level save that of my own life. The present is dynamic. Change, to resort to a cliché, is constant. The past is static. It is laid out coherently. It cannot be changed--only our knowledge of it can change. I can move through it, over it, pull it apart, put it together again, and there it remains, its politics, its mores, its statistics of all kinds, its societal structures, sanely and easily accessible to me. Motives emerge from a progression of actions that were fixed, frozen, a long time ago. The only question left to me as an historical writer is Why?

Although you're best known for your historical fiction you've also written science fiction (Stargate), contemporary horror (The Covenant), and some fantasy (Scroll of Saqqara). What intrigues you about these different genres?
I've departed from historical fiction when the prospect of writing yet another historical novel loomed as a chore. I fear writer's block as much as any writer will, and take steps to avoid it if I feel it threatening. Much as I love Egyptian history, there can sometimes be a dangerous sense of deja vu in having to describe a sunset over the Nile for the tenth time.

Stargate came to me at such a time, but there was also a need in me to try to explore the nature of perfection, and fantasy was a very good way in which to do it. As for The Covenant, again I wanted a rest from dear old Egypt, and from the anxiety of Getting a Fact Wrong, and from the strictures of a plot set for me by history. The Covenant was fun to write, but was perhaps not 'horrible' enough--my husband (now my ex-husband) and researcher told me that I had 'pulled my punches', and I think, looking back, that he was right. Still, the novel gave me the break from Egypt that I needed. As for Scroll of Saqqara, it's based on an ancient Egyptian legend concerning Prince Kaemwaset and his search for a magic scroll--a story told to little Egyptian children a thousand years ago.

Incidentally, I originally titled that book Mirage. It was published in the U.S. under that name, a fact which has caused some confusion ever since!

Why did you decide to become a writer?
I didn't decide to become a writer-- I always was one. The writing gene, and I believe it exists, is strong in my family. Both my father and my sister wrote wonderful poetry before the former became an Anglican priest and the latter a Professor of Philosophy. My cousin Joy Cowley became a respected author of contemporary fiction, winning a competition long before I did. My son Simon writes a column for one of our local newspapers and works, among other things, as a copy editor for all three of them. My younger son Roger wrote a semi-autobiographical novel about his months living in Mexico. The work shows much promise and I'm hoping for a second book from him before too long. I wrote poetry myself from the age when I was first able to manipulate words until I entered the first Alberta Competition way back in 1972. I take credit for polishing the gift I inherited but not for the gift itself. I was born with that.

What books or authors have most influenced your life?
The King James version of the Bible introduced me to the beauty and grandeur of the English language, and gave me a lasting respect for its complexity. Then both C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and the series of Lang fairy tale books, marked me indelibly with an appreciation for the way in which written language can be power, can have an emotional impact on a reader that can be an instrument of permanent change. I remember feeling this quite distinctly at the age of ten when my father read to my sisters and me on long winter evenings. Later, at sixteen, under very different circumstances, I picked up The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir, and finished the book with a new vision of myself as a woman.

I have always liked the Russian novelists, who drop one into the middle of a story, carry one along for a while, then pull one out while the tale goes on. I read and re-read Colette for her lyricism and the effortless way in which she combines strength and femininity in her characters. I discovered Jean Rhys and Muriel Spark in my twenties--both of them writers who inspired me with their ability to paint so vividly with so few words, particularly Jean Rhys, who is a writer's writer. I try to discover how she does it, how she crafts so brilliantly. She is a bracing antidote to my own excessive love of adjectives! And I must mention Stephen King, a humble writer whose personality never intrudes on his stories, whose style is so muted that both eye and mind can flow through his sentences without pause, and whose knowledge of human foibles, failings and fears always impresses me. Besides, his best novels can terrify me--and that takes some doing! I suppose what I'm saying is that every book I've picked up in my life has influenced me to some degree, either teaching me about myself or about my own writing, sometimes effecting a permanent psychic change in me, but always providing me with an escape either into myself or outward towards other lives. Language is a force of potent magic. I wish that its use as such could be recognized and taught in our schools.

What advice would you give to writers starting out?
Oh dear! If I were to advise writers just starting out on this long and dangerous journey I would say--become qualified in some field entirely unrelated to creative writing, firstly so that you have a career to fall back on in the event of failure and secondly so that you're not dealing with words all day and are too sick of them in the evening to do more than turn on the television. I would also warn them to get physically fit and stay that way. Strange advice, but writing is physically exhausting. One needs at least a strong back and muscled wrists. I would warn them to avoid the temptation to show their work around, particularly before it's finished. That sort of insecurity can be self-defeating. Find a professional and be prepared to tear the new-born to pieces, and so learn not to carve in stone! Always know your final scene. Simple but important--without an ending in mind, and I'm speaking of prose of course, a work may easily lose focus and wander off into pointlessness or the characters themselves may take over. Remember that writing is a solitary pursuit, and that means the necessity for stern self- discipline. Write to a regular schedule, even if it means a mere page or two a day. Inspiration strikes more often the more rigid the routine.