Interview with Summer Stephens, Historical Researcher and Author of Fiction and Non-Fiction
I am scatterbrained and easily distracted, but I'm
cute and have a good sense of humor. This year I will celebrate my twenty-ninth
wedding anniversary with my husband Bob, who had the chance to run for his life
in 1983 and didn't take it. We have no human children. Our family consists of
close relatives and friends, four legged critters with manes, tails, paws, and
hooves, and two leggeds with feathers and wings. In another life, I was an
equine massage therapist and saddle fitter. I have owned a graphic design
business, and worked with endangered Philippine red-vented cockatoos. I am
wildly crazy about Duran Duran. I love contemporary jazz, and Sting. I read incessantly. I inhale French fries. And chocolate. Not necessarily in that
order, and not necessarily at the same time. (Just sometimes.)
2. What inspired you to write?
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I'm good with words, I'm an amazingly good
speller, and I like the way words look on the page. I can't paint, draw, dance,
sculpt, or create anything "artistic," but I can arrange words on a
page so they are pleasing to the eye and convey a message. Words are art to me.
I don't read words as a series of letters, I see them as pictures and images of
what they represent, and I love them for that. My eye absorbs the word and my
mind fills with images, and I wish everyone could read that way. Some words are just beautiful - like
"wisteria." I think that is the most beautiful word in the English
language. And the word "chicken" always makes me laugh. It's just a
funny word! I mean, look at it! "Chicken. Chicken, chicken, chicken."
Hahahahahaaaaaa...
I like when words make me laugh, or think, or cry,
or angry, or afraid. Words should always have the power to invoke those
emotions, and if they are written, combined, and positioned properly, they do.
This is part of what is called "reader experience."
3. What has been the biggest influence in your writing career and why?
I once saw a greeting card with this on it:
"If you hear a voice within you saying 'you are not a painter,' then by
all means, paint. And that voice will be silenced." ~ Vincent van Gogh. Of
course, I bought the card and stuck it on my wall. I see it every day. I think
that is the most powerful thing any artist can do, no matter the medium. It's
hard to do, of course, when you think you suck, but first you write to please
your ear. (Or in my case, my eye.) Then you have your "wow" moment
when you realize you've thrown something down on the page that you can work
with. I love that moment.
4. What is your current work-in-progress, and can you summarize it in a few
lines?
My current WIP is a historical romance set in 1779
British St Augustine, between a wealthy Englishwoman and an impoverished indentured
worker from the Mediterranean island of Minorca. It is fiction-based-on-fact,
and gave me an outlet to use my twenty-some years' worth of research on the
indentured workers who came to Florida in 1767 from Minorca, Greece, and Italy.
They came here to populate a plantation that would later become the town of New
Smyrna Beach. The real story is poignant, important, and a sadly-ignored part
of American history.
5. As
a historical researcher, how do you draw on the historical facts for your
stories?
Historical researcher. Hmm. That's really kind of
you. What I actually am is an insatiably curious information-addict who cannot
pass by a historical marker, falling-down house, or sign that points to a
"historical attraction." Or a
cemetery. Good golly, I love old cemeteries. And research libraries. Basically,
what happens is I "meet" someone who has been, well, dead, for many,
many years, and I become fascinated with that person. As I research and get to
know them, and complete the "big picture" that was their life, I use
details I know about the time period to "fill in around the edges." I
also create corresponding characters to tell the story. I use actual people
very sparingly and try to portray them in context, the way I understand them
from my reading and research. I wasn't in British St Augustine in 1779, so
rather than overuse "real" people who were, I created characters to
be "assistants" or "friends" to actual historic figures,
and I let them tell the story. Gives me more freedom and also allows for
interesting plot points to pop up. For instance, one of my "created"
characters in my current WIP turned out to have an ugly secret, but I didn't
know that until I was almost done with the book! (C'mon, say it with me:
re-write...)
6. What is the most difficult part of writing for you?
Wow, that's a hard one. I enjoy the advantage of
not having another "real" job so I don't worry about having time to
write, or a place to write, or something to write about. I think what has been
most difficult these past two years is that I went back to school to study
historic preservation, thinking I could do school and write at the same time. I
tried, and while I was great at school, I was atrocious at making time to write.
I have overachiever tendencies, which my husband will tell you is
like saying Noah experienced light rain and drizzle. Trying to maintain an A in
school came at the price of having to set my book on the back burner. My
incredibly supportive husband sat me down after finals last December and gently
pointed out to me that the "write and go to school at the same time"
thing just wasn't working out. He assured me he would remain supportive no
matter what my decision, but he encouraged me to drop school, if only for
spring semester, and focus on my book. So I sobbed for a while and then I took
his suggestion. I miss school but I love being able to focus on my writing. It
was the right thing to do. (Sob.)
7. What is your writing schedule like?
For example, do you write any time of the day or do you prefer a specific
time of day? Do you write for a specific
amount of hours or pages?
I write all the time. I have a Kindle Fire, and I
use My Writing Spot (a Google program), which allows me to put whatever I am
working on on my Fire, and work on it anytime, anywhere. My "workday"
ends around 5:30 or 6 pm, so I take my Fire into the living room and squeeze in
some editing or revising or writing while we are watching TV or whatever. I
also take my Fire with me wherever I go, so if I find myself with some free minutes,
I have something to do.
8. Do
you ever experience writer’s block? If
so, how do you cope with it?
I can't think of an answer for this. Hang on a
minute while I think it over. Okay, so far, no. But the day is still young.
9. Are
you a plotter or a panster? If you’re a
plotter, do you have any plotting tips?
Am I a plotter or a pantser? Yes. (I'll bet that
wasn't what you were going for, was it?) I plot. Then I throw it all out, and
pants. You should have seen the outline for my current WIP. It was a work of
art, a thing of beauty. It was perfectly formatted with multileveled, numbered
lists, a different color type for each main character, character bios,
genealogy charts...heck, I even checked the phases of the moon in Florida in 1779
so I'd know for sure whether my action was taking place under a full moon or a
quarter one. And halfway through the first draft. I tossed it. (Well, I didn't actually toss it. I just stuck it
in a drawer so I could refer back if I needed to and refresh my memory if
necessary.)
See, my characters don't care. They are supremely
unimpressed with my plotting and my outlines and my efforts to run their lives.
Of course, as the author, I can make them do whatever I want. If I want a
character to do a certain thing, I can write him doing that thing but it's just
so much less annoying to shut up, let him tell his own story, and try to keep
up as he goes along.
In other words, it's their world. I just live in
it. Trying to make them do things they don't want to do is like pushing a chain
uphill with my nose. Possible, but far more trouble than it's worth. I prefer
to lay the chain in place and see who tugs it up the hill for me.
10. What
is your personal writing goal?
To assemble eighty thousand words (give or take a
few) that please my eye, then have someone I will never meet read those words
and be glad they spent some time in my twisted but fun little world. Then, do
it again. And again. As many times as I can.
11. What
is the strangest thing that ever happened to you?
Well...I had to think this one over because I am
incident-prone, so strange things happen to me all the time. Probably the
strangest (and in a twisted way, the funniest) was in 2003 when I had a little
"health issue." My stomach had felt strange for several months but it
was nothing I could put my finger on so I didn't think much of it. In June of
that year, I was booked to do some traveling and "horse work" in
Indiana and Michigan. The night before I left, this grinding pain started in my
belly and just got worse and worse until I thought I might explode, and then it
went away. Just like that. So I'm thinking, "All RIGHT! I'm FINE!"
and I headed out the next morning for my two-week working trip.
I did great for about a week and a half, and then
started feeling icky again. By then I knew there was "something"
going on, so I promised my husband I'd see my doctor when I got home. But I
didn't make it to the doctor. As soon as I hit the driveway, Bob hauled me to
the ER.
Seems the night before I left two weeks earlier,
the "relief" from the pain I'd been experiencing was actually my
appendix rupturing. I spent four hours in surgery, two weeks in hospital, and
another three months on IV antibiotics at home. I nearly died, but when I look
back on it now, it's funny. I had the best care in the world and my nurses
really enjoyed me but it was because I made them laugh. I figured we could
either cry about it or laugh about it, and whenever possible, I choose to
laugh. Bob says if I were a superhero, my superpower would be the ability to
ignore pain until it nearly kills me.
12. What is the funniest?
I actually have two, and both are so funny I
decided to include them both.
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A friend of mine was trying to breed a mare to a
stallion in another state, using shipped semen. This is a very common practice
in horse breeding now, but back then it was still fairly new. My friend had
called me at the shop complaining that the stallion owner had failed, for the
third time, to ship the semen at the proper time to inseminate the mare and get
her pregnant. Artificial insemination is expensive for the mare owner and an
annoyance for the mare, because you have to use hormones to prepare her, ultrasound
her to make sure things are progressing, and you have to catch her at exactly
the right time for the process to "take." So the stallion owner needs
to be on the ball, so to speak, and do his or her part to get the job done
right the first time.
My friend was new to the horse business, and asked
me what she should do about the situation. I was frustrated, because I knew the
stallion owner and had arranged the breeding. Keep in mind, I was having this conversation in
the yogurt shop, the compressors in the machines were running, and my voice was
raised enough that my friend could hear me over the compressors, but the customers
out front could not.
So I said (okay, yelled): "You call her up
right now, and you tell her three times is too many, and tell her..."
The compressors shut off.
"...if I do not have semen in my hand by noon
tomorrow, the deal is off and I want a full refund of all fees!"
Needless to say, the shop had filled up with
customers during the time I had been on the phone. Among the customers were the
local OB-GYN and his family of five children. I, of course, slunk out the back
door in wretched humiliation. My dad pretended he hadn't heard a thing.
The next day, the doctor asked my mother, who was
a nurse at the local hospital, "Exactly what is it your daughter does with
horses, anyway?" My mother called me up. "What did you
DO??!!"
Funny Thing #2: In 1991, my beloved grandfather
died. My grandfather came from a large family of deep south Georgia dirt
farmers. He grew up very poor but very dedicated to his family, his church, and
the Masons. He was also very, very bullheaded, much like his entire family. So
when he died, my grandmother went straight to his desk for the list of
instructions he had carefully hand-written out for "when it was
needed."
He was to be buried in the family cemetery in
south Georgia (which, until that moment, I did not know existed.) His nephew,
Stewart, (a mortician, who I also did not know existed until then) was to
handle the transport from Atlanta to the south Georgia funeral home, and all funeral
arrangements. The funeral was to be a short graveside service, immediate family
only, which meant a very small group.
Apparently Stewart wasn't able to come pick up my
grandfather himself, so he had the body "shuttled" south to him
through a number of funeral homes. We ended up losing track of exactly where my
grandfather was at any given moment, and when someone asked where to send flowers,
I threw up my hands in exasperation and said, "I don't think it matters.
Just send them anywhere between here and the funeral home in south Georgia
where he is headed. He'll pick them up on his way through."
Eventually my grandfather ended up at the correct
funeral home in a town I had never heard of. Bob and I were given directions to
the funeral home and told Stewart would lead us to the family cemetery, which
no one knew how to get to but him. Bob and I were the last to arrive at the
funeral home, and there we found my grandmother tapping her foot. She'd been
inpatient for me to get there because she wanted photos, and everyone knew I
was the one who always had a camera with me.
Photos. Of my dead grandfather in his casket. Ick.
But...my grandmother would not be denied. Click, click, click.
After I'd taken a few photos, Stewart stepped up.
"Is everyone ready to go?" Not waiting for an answer, he slammed the
casket shut--BAM!--locked it, and nearly ran us over pushing it out of the
viewing room and racing down the hall where the hearse waited. SHOOMP! He shot the casket into the hearse,
slammed it shut, jumped into the driver's seat, and scratched off, spraying
gravel all over the place. We, of course, were standing there wondering what
the heck just happened!
My dad yelled, "We gotta go! We don't know where
it is!" By that time, Stewart was several blocks away, rocketing through
traffic lights and screaming around corners. We raced madly to our cars and
desperately fought through traffic, trying to keep each other in sight. My dad
got out first, so he was in charge of not losing sight of Stewart. The rest of
us just had to keep sight of each other.
Eventually, we all found each other again, and we
left the fairly busy town in a "procession," ending up on long
stretches of south Georgia blacktop in some obscure county whose name I can't
even remember now. We drove and drove, following Stewart, who kept the hearse
at a steady 65 mph. We kept up by not talking, never taking our eyes off the
road, and following Stewart's two-wheeled turns deeper into places I had never
heard of, much less seen. I held my breath, hoping Stewart had closed up that
hearse tightly so my poor grandfather wouldn't come flying out and go bouncing
off down the road. (Having to chase down an escaping body is just not a good
way to start a funeral, in my opinion.)
At one point, a large white Cadillac passed us.
Passed the entire procession that was traveling at 65 mph. It was starting to
feel uncomfortably like we needed to dispose of the body as quickly as
possible, but none of us knew why. Suddenly Stewart stopped. I don't mean he slowed
to a stop. I mean, he was traveling at 65 mph and then he was stopped cold.
-Insert sound of eight sets of screeching brakes here.- Finally able to take
our eyes off the road, we realized we'd arrived at the cemetery. By the time
we'd collected ourselves and shaken off the horror of the trip, Stewart had my
grandfather out of the hearse, up the hill, and in place for burial. The
minister was waiting, and by the time we all made it to the graveside, he was
well into his service. We'd barely gotten in place when the minister said
"Amen."
At that point, Stewart became solicitous and very
attentive, speaking to each of us, holding up flowers for photos, and in
general, being very funeral-director-esque. About twenty minutes
after the minister finished, Stewart turned to my grandmother. "Do you
need anything else?" When she replied that everything was fine, he waved,
and jumped back in the hearse. (This time we all ducked to avoid the spray of
gravel.) The minister took off after him as though only they knew the sooper
seekrit location where free barbecue was being served, and we were left
standing there without a clue where we were or how to get back to civilization.
Fortunately, the guys who were in charge of burying my grandfather told us how
to get back to a highway we recognized.
At the time, we were all staring at each other and
saying, "What the...???" but in retrospect, it's funny. My grandfather
would have loved it.
13. If you
could choose anywhere in the world to write, where would it be?
Well, anyone who knows me knows I am obsessed with
St Augustine, so if I could choose anywhere in the world it would be in a
certain house in the historic district there. My second choice would be
anywhere on the Georgia or northeast Florida coast where I could have ancient
oak trees, Spanish moss, and super cool English and Spanish ghosts in my life
all the time. Third choice: Italy.
14. What
are you most proud of accomplishing in your life?
My marriage, hands down. Bob and I were separated
for three years of our marriage, and looking back, I don't even remember what
the original fight was about. And my husband is such an incredible guy that he
reminds me constantly that it doesn't matter. We got back together after The
Great Ruptured Appendix Incident of 2003, when he moved back in to take care of
me and we have been inseparable ever since.
I regret that I lost three years with the most
loving, supportive, and unselfish man in the world, but I am grateful for the
almost 26 we have had. If I can be married to him for two hundred more years,
it won't be long enough. I marvel every day that he picked me and stuck by me
even when I hurt him. Or, as my Gator-Girlfriend (You know who you are!) has
told me many times, I don't deserve him. My mother even said that once...
15. What
writing advice or tips would you like to give to other writers?
That's an easy one: "If you hear a voice
within you saying 'you are not a painter,' then by all means, paint. And that
voice will be silenced." ~ Vincent van Gogh.
That's the first thing I would say to other
writers. You don't have to be "good" at it, you don't have to do it for
money. You don't have to have a college degree to do it, you don't have to even
have a story in mind before you start. Just dig into your mind and find some
words and put them on a blank screen. Then keep doing it. Do it until you have
thousands of words and people start showing up in your head and talking to you.
Then...THEN...you will have what you need to make a beautiful piece of art that
pleases your eye
.
.
The second thing: don't be alone. Find a writer's
group to belong to; find a home. It may take a few tries to find the right
group for you, but you need this. You need the support of a clan you fit into
well, that is made up of other writers with various levels of expertise and
experience. You need to develop relationships with other writers, and the trust
that comes with those relationships. You need people with whom you can feel
comfortable enough to let them peek at your naked soul (or nekkid, as we say it
in the South) because that's how it feels when someone else reads your writing and
you're not used to it. Your group will help you strengthen not only
your writing but also your ability to allow someone to read your work without
breaking into a cold sweat. Your group, if it's the right group for you, will
also help you learn to accept honest evaluation of your work and will make
suggestions to help you make it better.
Third: If you plan to sell your writing, treat it
like a business and know your industry. If you plan to submit your work to a
publisher, research publishers. Find the ones that publish what you write. If
you plan to seek an agent, research agents. Read their blogs, get to know them.
If you plan to self-publish, seek out people who've done it, successfully and
unsuccessfully, read their blogs, get to know them. Follow trends in your
industry: know who is working where, know who is publishing what, know what
genres or tropes are hot and which are over.
Stay on top of it. It's work, but you have to do
it. If you were a hairdresser, you'd be reading industry guides and magazines,
attending shows, and networking to learn the hot trends and what people want
their hair to look like. Writing is no different. Read industry blogs, go to
conferences, and talk to as many people as you can to keep yourself tuned up
and your writing fresh.
And lastly: never forget that no matter how long
the publishing chain is or who is in it, the two most important parts of the
chain are the very ends: the author and the reader. Whether your reader ordered
your book from Amazon, bought it at a Barnes & Noble, picked it up at an
indie bookstore (may God forever bless the indie bookstores!) or downloaded it
to their e-reader, the bottom line is still author-to-reader. Always remember
that. Because, if writing is your business and your career, writing a darned good
story that sinks its claws into the reader, and hangs on, is the most important
part of the process.
BIO
Summer Stephens is obsessed with northeast
Florida and coastal Georgia history, and uses her 25+ years of gathered stories
and research in her writing. Watch for her upcoming historical romance set in
1779 St Augustine, Florida.
Her work has appeared in numerous horse and
parrot-related magazines, including Equus, The Chronicle of the Horse, The
Morgan Horse, Birds USA, Bird Talk, and others. Her short story, Surviving
Foaling Season, is available in the Amazon Kindle store.
In another life, she worked with horses as a
behaviorist, equine massage therapist, saddle fitter, and breeder. She has also
worked in parrot conservation with Philippine Red-Vented Cockatoos, a threatened
species. She and her husband live in the sticks in central Georgia with their
small herd of retired horses, several goofy dogs, and a flock of impossibly
silly parrots. She currently serves the RWA chapter Ancient City Romance Authors
as Social Media Chair.
Visit Summer on the web.
Summer, thank you for a great interview.
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