Today is my day at Always Austen, where I talk about a recent trip to Halifax and muse about the importance of Place in fiction. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
https://alwaysausten.com/2024/01/23/6971/

Here’s what I wrote:

I’m writing this as I sit in a hotel room in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I’m here for a writing workshop, something I’ve never done before. The topics of discussion are amazing and I’m looking forward to developing my craft as well as meeting people at all stages of their writing careers.

This isn’t my first trip to Halifax. I was first here as a teenager, passing through on an exchange program and taking advantage of a few hours between flights to do a very quick visit. I’ve since been back three of four times, and each time this city has left a lasting impression, so much so that I set a good chunk of my novel The Assistant here, back when the place was still so new, it was still in the box. Even when I arrived yesterday, walking from the airport bus stop to my hotel, I looked for landmarks I mentioned in that book. The Citadel, the erstwhile cathedral (long story), the busy waterfront and the massive natural harbour, Barrington Street…

The hotel I’m staying in was built in 1809, not ten years after Edward Gardiner was here, searching for his lost love. I can almost imagine my characters walking down this street during their sojourn here, or taking rooms at the even older inn a few blocks away. I still feel them everywhere, even though they only exist in our imaginations.

But that’s what a place can do. It’s so much more than streets or buildings. In fact, writing “place” was one of the workshop topics. We discussed the importance—or not—of situating a story in a specific place. When is it vital to the narrative, and when is it less important? How much detail should we provide? When is setting almost a character, and when is it a vague watercolour backdrop? It was a fascinating conversation.

And, of course, when we discuss historical fiction, the time becomes part of the place. People’s clothing and social expectations are as important as geography. Details like methods of transportation, food, and current social, cultural, or political events make up that “place” even more so than streets and villages and buildings. This temporal “location” adds, in a sense, the fourth dimension to physical space.

If you’ve read Preludes, which came out just over a year ago, you’ll know that it’s set in modern-day Toronto, with the parks and concert halls, waterfront and huge buildings. Again, in my mind’s eye my characters are dashing down Queen Street, or popping into my favourite Chinese restaurant for a meal very now and then. People who know the city will think, “yes, that street,” and hopefully, people who don’t will still get the impression of a large, vibrant city with a thriving music scene.

Toronto is also the setting for my newest book, The Second Ending, which is out tomorrow! This is the third of my Austen Echoes series, and like the other two, it’s based around the members of the Eglinton Echoes concert choir.

In this case, the protagonist is Ashleigh Lynch, whose family managed to break up her relationship with Marcus Fredericks eight years ago. Now they’re on opposite sides of a legal dispute over a plot of land. Yes, it’s based on Persuasion, and yes, Ashleigh is my singer.

This novel is a bit grittier than the others, and is still firmly located in the city I call home. I don’t have an exact building in mind for Marcus’ refurbished house near downtown, but I could drive you down a couple of streets that would fit the bill perfectly. Ashleigh’s little flat is on that street just north of the Danforth. The parks, the office buildings, the land that’s under dispute… I could point them out on a map.

Again, I hope this clear image in my head gives the reader the sense of reality and immediacy when reading about Ash and Marcus’ unexpected reconnection.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on Place in fiction. Do you like it specific, or more ambiguous? What details do you want or dislike? Let’s chat!

In the meantime, here’s an excerpt from The Second Ending. I’ll include a map, because I have an exact spot in mind for this encounter! It even suggested the illustration on the cover. Happy reading!

***

“Come for a walk?” Marcus asked when the dishes lay empty between them. “It won’t be dark for hours, and tomorrow’s the weekend.”

Ashleigh agreed at once. “I have another summons from my parents, but if I’m late, what can they do? Yes, I’d enjoy a walk.” She wiggled her toes. “Good thing I wore my comfortable shoes today.”

They strolled through the neighbourhood as Marcus told her, in broad strokes, about the looming demise of his development project. There was little Ashleigh could say beyond what his own lawyers had surely told him, but her sympathetic murmurs and responses seemed helpful. Up this street and down that one they walked, wending their way into one of the many ravines that decorated the city, eventually northward to a lovely set of gardens just off the busy thoroughfare.

Here, in this little oasis in the middle of the city, you could hardly believe you were in the centre of one of the largest urban areas on the continent. Gone were the cars and the crowds and the noise, to be replaced by trees and paths and the glorious kaleidoscope of freshly opened blooms.

“That project can go to hell for the moment. Let’s just enjoy this.” Marcus led her to the balustrade at the edge of a terrace overlooking the main garden.

“It’s lovely,” Ashleigh murmured. “I don’t come here often enough.”

“Mmmm,” was all Marcus had to say. He stepped a bit closer as they took in the lovely vista, standing side by side. Ashleigh closed the gap further, and leaned into him, letting her weight gently press along his side. It was an invitation, and one he accepted. He lifted his arm ever so slightly and wrapped it about her waist, pulling her closer still.

This slight contact, the chaste sidelong embrace, shook her world. It was the first real physical connection between them in nearly a decade, beyond the cautious touch of a hand. The gesture burst open the floodgates of memory: Leaning against him as they looked out a window, kissing him, curling up against him in bed after they made love on a summer evening… oh, how could she ever have let him go?

She shuddered against her will, and Marcus pulled back. It was barely perceptible, but enough to break that magical connection and stem the tide of recollection. The sunlight dimmed, and the flowers lost a bit of their glory, until she realised the shadow that came across the setting sun was him.

His eyes, deep and dark, peered into hers, and his finger touched the underside of her chin, tilting her head up towards his.

“If I didn’t think you’d hate me for it, I’d kiss you right now,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t hate you,” was her answer.

***

You can read the whole Austen Echoes series on KU, or purchase ebooks or paperbacks at Amazon.
https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B0CLSYGZSM