Staring at a blank page, whether it’s yellow lined paper or a white screen with a patiently blinking cursor, waiting for those first few sentences of a story to form…it’s one of the most fundamental challenges of writing. The process of beginning a book is unique each time...
I’ve had stories hit the ground running with an action scene so clear in my head that I couldn’t wait to put it on paper—like the chase and abduction scene in STEALING SOPHIE (w/a Sarah Gabriel); other books have started out as a few sentences that haunted me until I wrote them down:
Wild as blackberries she was, sweet and dark and unruly, and she would never be his. Lachlann knew it, had always known it. Yet he paused in his work and leaned in the doorway of the smithy to watch her. He allowed himself that much. (THE SWORD MAIDEN, w/a Susan King).
Still others have started out clumsy and clunky, with one deleted sentence after another, taking forever to form before finally moving. I won’t give you an example on that one, just trust me--and it’s more than one book. Thankfully no one ever seems to notice that but me.
When I began writing LADY MACBETH, my challenge was this: where the heck should I begin a story as big and complex as this might be?! The story covers decades, and my main character would have to change and mature through the span of many years. And the ending would be known to many readers, since Macbeth and his queen are historically documented persons.
Lady Macbeth would need to be very much a product of her place and time – not Shakespeare's place and time, but that of 11th century Scotland, where the real queen lived. She would be a young woman raised in a warrior society, accustomed to the equality common to the Celts, steeped in poetry, legends, and traditions; a woman to whom truth and honor were all, and in whom anger burned pretty brightly. I figured she would just go for it—no-holds-barred, no prancing around the truth. And a first-person narrative would allow her to be blunt, honest, and opinionated about…well, just about everything.
So I started the book at a point later in her life, as she looks back—it's a convention, yes, but a pattern that often works so long as it's a bit unpredictable. Lady Macbeth is not dictating her story, but pondering it—maybe she’ll let someone record it on parchment, and maybe she won’t—she’s still deciding. I framed the story in present tense, prologue and later chapters, with the body of the story in past tense. That way, we know just where we are with her--she's in media res, on the verge of an action that could be very dangerous. But first she'd better think it through ….
Scotland, 1058
Snowflakes dazzle against the evening sky and fall gentle around this stark tower. The false King of Scots expects us to trudge our ponies through that cold deep, so that I may tuck myself away in some Lowland monastery. Malcolm Canmore, he who murdered my husband and now calls himself king, would prefer I went even farther south into England, where they have priories just for women. There his allies would lock me away, as the Scots will not.
But my son is the true crowned King of Scots, and I am under the protection of his name, and the strength of my own. Had I agreed to marry Malcolm Canmore despite all, I would be honored now.
Weeks ago, at the turn of the new year, he sent a messenger with a length of green silk, gold-embroidered, and pots of spices and perfumes, with a request for my hand in marriage.
If power of that sort was what I craved, the gifts and request would have intrigued me. But I am a Celt and value honor more, and prefer Scottish wool to Oriental silk. Coarse by comparison, our weavings have the honest strength and handsomeness of this land.
I wrote an answer with the very hand Malcolm wanted, though my Gaelic script is worse than my Latin. Only a few words were needed for a refusal. I sent the note and most of the gifts back, and kept the silk. My handmaid, Finella, likes it.
As for convents, I will send another message to the usurper Malcolm: the dowager Queen Gruadh, lately wife to King Macbeth whom you have slain, chooses to remain in her fortress.
A dare of sorts, and we shall see what he will do.
The winds howl—it is no wonder February is called the wolf-month—and we sit, my companions and I, before the fire basket absorbing warmth and brightness. Dermot, my household bard, plays a melody on his harp. Shivering, I draw my cloak about my shoulders. Though I have lived scarce forty years and still burn with life, the chill riding the air this night is keen....
To read the full prologue, go to www.susanfraserking.com .
BTW -- LADY MACBETH is featured in the February 2008 GLAMOUR MAGAZINE, just out in stores now, as one of their Buzz picks of the month, under "900 Years of Kick-Ass Women"... and I'm thrilled! The book will be released in bookstores on February 12 .... please watch for it!
I'd love to give away a copy of LADY MACBETH, but I don't have any hardcover copies yet!
So I'll offer the Advanced Reading Copy of LADY MACBETH to one of the commenters to this post.
Good luck -- and I wish all of you great beginnings in 2008!
Susan