That Thing I did, and the Other Thing I Did Because of It

Before I dropped off the face of the earth, I said that I had signed up for a weeklong writing retreat.
That retreat took place at a place called Nimrod, and it was honestly one of the best weeks of my life. I don’t know how to describe how magical that experience was. There was no air conditioning, there were bugs, it was humid as all get out, and I’d have gone back in a heartbeat. I loved spending the morning at an antique desk, staring out lacy curtains, plunking away at my work in progress. I came away with the knowledge that my project was worth pursuing, which was priceless. I met some amazing people and had incredible food.

The owners announced in January that they were taking their land private rather than running it as a retreat. I can’t say I blame them – it’s got to be a ton of work. But it broke my heart.

However, I wasn’t about to give up on the whole retreat thing. So I signed up for a more structured workshop that was recommended to me. It was nerve-wracking, because this was definitely taking it up a couple notches. This was a week to get and give feedback and improve my craft. Because I am an absolute slacker, I took the same project to Tinker that I took to Nimrod – just a different section. (If you’re thinking she had ten months and she didn’t finish that book – yes, we can both be disappointed in me.)

This time I came away with incredible, tangible feedback, and the conviction that I need to finish this novel and work on submitting it.
Don’t get too excited. I have a lot of work I need to do. Like, a LOT. Don’t expect to see a finished product any time soon. If I’m lucky and diligent maybe I can have a workable draft by the end of the year, query-able by spring, fingers crossed.

Maybe this time…

Fingers crossed.

I did a thing.

Maybe it was too much sugar. (I really know better than to have a pastry for breakfast.) Maybe it was just the kick in the pants that I needed.

I signed up for a weeklong writing retreat in August. Time away from everything to work on writing. But it’s not just that, but in the afternoons, you work with an author/mentor on your writing. In this case, it’s Rachel Beanland, author of Florence Adler Swims Forever, which I quite liked back in 2020.

Well, I can’t go into this writing retreat with work older than some of my cats. So it’s time to dust off the keyboard and make some progress. I’ve started pecking away at a couple of new projects, one fiction, one non. I don’t know that they’ll go anywhere, which is why I’m not giving any more details just yet – I want to see what sticks first.

Here’s to what is sure to be an adventure!

Gold Star Because You Tried

Pull up a chair, maybe grab a notebook. I’ve found a book worth dissecting. I need to do this more often – think about books from their bones and sinews, rather than just how much I enjoy them. But alas, I am a devourer of books first (and one on a tight reading deadline), so I don’t always take the time to think about how a book worked.

Or in this case, how it didn’t.

It’s not that this book was particularly bad or unenjoyable. I suspect that, if you’re someone who can throw themselves into a story without thinking about any of the mechanics, you would like this book a lot more than I did. But I know a little too much about writing, and I read a little too much not to feel like I saw behind the curtain the whole time. With that said, let’s dive in.

Italian Moon is about a family in Italy primarily in the space between the world wars, but touching on a little of both at the bookends of the story. There are a couple of things to note from the tag line on the cover: one, that it’s inspired by a true story, and two, it covers the rise of fascism. The author, as it turns out, is the direct descendant of the family, which makes me both a little more sympathetic and also helps me understand why this book doesn’t work for me.
Let me be up front about this – I completely understand why the author would want to write this story. The bones of it are fascinating, and if it were my family, I would want to write it too. But I believe she’s a little too close to the story to do it well, and it should have been more heavily edited or left to a ghost writer.

I’ve read quite a bit of historical fiction inspired by true events, and it can be done very well. In particular, I’d recommend Lauren Willig’s Band of Sisters – while I’m partial to Willig, she does a phenomenal job of taking a mostly true story and making it sparkle. But Italian Moon suffers from leaning too heavily on what I believe to be the facts of the story. When writing about her great grandparents falling in love, the story feels very stiff, as though the author either felt awkward writing about her family, or didn’t feel like she could take liberties. If I were writing about my family, I would tension in trying to embellish – afraid that an aunt would chase me down to scold me about how my grandmother never would have said or did such a thing. The result is that early on in the book, when we should be connecting with our characters and preparing to ride out their plight with them, we’re left at arm’s length.

That brings me to the cardinal sin of this book: it does a lot of telling, and not nearly enough showing. If you’ve ever written a novel, or taken writing classes, you know exactly what I mean. There’s a huge difference between “Vizzi walked to the top of the stairs, afraid that he would be caught.” and “Vizzi tip toed up the wooden stairs, the pounding of his heart threatening to give him away.” Your language doesn’t have to be overly flowery, and certainly there is a time to get to the point, but you need to have enough description to make your reader feel connected to your plot and characters. If they might as well be reading a history textbook, you’ve done it wrong.

In comparison to the above, my other quibbles with the book feel minor, but I’m still going to note some of them. For a book that is labeled as being about the rise of fascism, something that would set it apart from most other WWII books, it feels like a minor footnote to the story. I would have liked to see a lot more of it woven into the plot, more so than “so and so had a bad feeling about that Mussolini guy”. While there is some tension in the family as some of the members support Mussolini and others do not, there’s no real consequences for it, and doesn’t do much for the overall story.
Meanwhile, in one particularly dramatic section, our heroine’s husband is gravely injured, and since he is an ocean away, we’re left wondering if he will survive. A letter arrives in the hometown, but is intercepted by our heroine’s sister, who is not a very nice person. She tosses the letter aside, and our main character is left to wonder about her husband’s fate for the next ten years. However, there is no real closure on this issue. The treachery is never dealt with – I’m not entirely sure the sister is even really mentioned again in the story. Even if this is historically accurate, in a fictional story, loose threads like this don’t make for a satisfying story.

So all that to say, while I understand why the author would want to write this story, I wish she’d sacrificed more of the accuracy in order to make a satisfying novel. While it’s a quick read, I can’t really recommend this book, sadly, though as of this posting, it is still free with Kindle Unlimited if you want to check it out. Despite my criticism, I hope the author continues to write and evolve. I think she is capable of telling some interesting stories – they just need a little more finesse in order to really shine.