Writing Amish

Each year I am privileged to travel to LaGrange County, Indiana, to tell stories as "Jack's Mama" at David Rogers Days, held the fourth weekend of August. DRD is one of Indiana's hidden jewels, as festivals go. Set in the log cabin village of David Rogers Park, it is in the heart of Indiana's northern Amish country. The event celebrates this state's pioneer heritage, as well as the life and philanthropy of the man for whom it is named. The rolling hills, large black walnut trees, wildflower meadows, and verdant farmland provide a beautiful setting. Guests pay a modest gate fee to enjoy traditional acoustic music, a sleight-of-hand artist (who also swallows fire and serves as ringmaster for a flea circus), a Punch and Judy show, strolling entertainers, a large interactive children's area, early American dance instruction, and various pioneer reenactors demonstrating such things as spinning, weaving, smithing, and bowl-making. Most of all, I love the audiences, many of whom are Old Order Amish.
       This year's festival was different for me because I've read several works of "kapp fiction." While it's not my genre to write, I enjoy reading them. I'm most familiar with the works of Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, and Cindy Woodsmall. I've heard that kapp fiction is popular among the Amish, especially if the local Bishop permits them. But how accurately do they portray Amish life, I've wondered, since the best fiction is firmly rooted in truth.
       One of the Saturday vendors at DRD was a gracious Amish woman named Kathryn. She was selling some of the foods eaten following the church service on Preaching Sundays: homemade dill pickles, the best I've ever tasted; fried pies, Amish peanut butter, snickerdoodles, huge gingersnaps, sour cream sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, and cheese wedges. After discussing food and swapping recipes, we got on the subject of Amish fiction.
       "Do you read them?" I asked.
       "Jah. Wanda Brunstetter. Beverly Lewis. I read them when I get time." Of course, having read the books, I knew exactly what she meant, since they rise early and work long.
       "How accurate are they to your lives?"
       "A few are very accurate. Those ladies, for example. But many are not."
       I told her I check out the credentials of the writer and look at the acknowledgements page. Does the author thank members of the Amish community who proofed the manuscript for accuracy? Obviously they can't if they didn't invite some knowledgeable reader to critique the work.
      "Sometimes," Kathryn said, "writers will include things that either are not a part of the Amish way of life or are peculiar to a particular community." She indicated that she shuns the work of writers who are careless with the facts.
      I appreciate when authors are clear about the setting of time, place, and, in the case of kapp fiction, specific community. As with any kind of writing, it behooves us to do the research.
     

Mama's Got Rhythm

This past Saturday, "Jack's Mama" told her far-flung, homespun highland tales at the Ohio River Valley Folk Festival in Madison, Indiana. (Jack's Mama is my pioneer mountain woman character through whom I tell stories from southern Appalachian oral tradition.)

At the conclusion of one set, two young men, probably in their early 20s, told me how much they enjoyed the show. "I love to listen to you tell," one said. "There is a rhythm, a cadence, to your speech. I love your pacing."

No one has ever said that before, but I really like it. The rhythm comes naturally to me, I suppose, but I do consciously pace the story. As a raconteur, I am very interactive with my audiences, working to draw each one into the tale. Pacing, working in tandem with the rhythm, is an important tool toward that end.

After the men left, I sat enjoying the balmy breeze coming off the river, and I thought about how storytelling compares with writing.  Rhythm and pacing are essential to our writing, as well. If a sentence is grammatically and mechanically flawless but is choppy or awkward, it may give the reader pause. Of course, there may be times when we want to slow the reader down.

The storyteller knows when to speak slowly and deliberately for dramatic effect. The writer can accomplish the same thing by making each sentence a separate paragraph, for example. Or she may incorporate alliteration, a well-placed dash, or longer, more complex sentences.

At the high point of the action or scene, the storyteller's sentences may become very short, little more than a series of phrases or clauses. The writer does the same thing. Whether spoken or written, such techniques achieve the same results.

Many have told me that I use dramatic pause well. I can tolerate silence. And nothing grabs an audience's attention more quickly. Whether I speak softly or crescendo just before the pause, I have the full attention of each one when I fall silent and just look around at them, eyeball to eyeball.

Compare that effect to the writer's hook lines, particularly at chapters' ends. (Did those last two words slow you down a bit?) Christian writer Ramona K. Cecil presented a wonderful workshop in which she said we should not try to write a good hook at the end of a chapter, but, rather, we should end the chapter at a good hook. That statement helped me tremendously as a writer. Those hooks are the dramatic pauses of writing. Why dramatic? Because the listener/reader can hardly wait for the pause to end so that the story can move on. In the case of the reader, she wants to get that page turned as quickly as possible.

What a compliment that young man gave. Mama's got rhythm. Do you? Dear fellow writers, I hope you'll leave a comment telling about how you consciously incorporate rhythm and pacing in your writing. Examples are welcome.

Write on!

Never Let Good Research Languish

I have been a professional storyteller for nearly a quarter of a century. My most popular programs are historical, and each one was funded in part through a grant or a commission. In order to develop a reputation for historical accuracy and an authentic persona, I do all I can to thoroughly research the time periods, just as I do for my writing, poring over original documents and books, interviewing others who have expertise on the subject, visiting some sites where the events happened, studying the clothing and other everyday details of the period, sewing the attire from authentic fabrics, and purchasing any necessary accoutrements.

I say all of that, not to impress the reader with my dedication and research skills, but to emphasize that much goes into developing a new historical program. What a shame it would be to allow all of that effort to languish, once the performance script is written. By the time the show premieres, I have gained a certain expertise on my subject and have acquired a small library, to boot.

The logical extension for this writer is to write a middle-grade fiction book that uses the body of research already gathered. (Of course, questions arise that send me off on new trails, so the research never really ends until the manuscript is finished.) For example, my first storytelling persona was "Jack's Mama," still a favorite among clients. As JM, I portray a pioneer mountain woman and tell stories from the oral tradition of the southern Appalachians. Through a Lilly Teacher Creativity Fellowship, I was able to spend a month wandering through the mountains, gathering stories, studying the dialect, and talking with the people about their lives. I used that knowledge and experience in the writing of Up the Rutted Road, my first book manuscript, currently undergoing a revision.

Four years ago, Storytelling Arts of Indiana awarded me the Frank Basile Emerging Stories Fellowship to develop Abigail Gray: Living under the Drinking Gourd, a program about the Underground Railroad. My second novel manuscript, The Second Cellar, this one for upper middle graders, is a historical fantasy that involves the Underground Railroad. I have written just over 100 pages on it. Here I go, recycling research again!

Recognizing that every perfect gift comes from the Lord, I thank Him for these opportunities. He allowed me to receive an Individual Artist's Project fellowship from the Indiana Arts Commission/National Endowment for the Arts to begin this second manuscript. They liked the idea, as did an editor who critiqued the proposal at a writers' conference.

Even as I revise one manuscript and write a second, I am thinking about how I can recycle the research I did for a storytelling performance about the U.S. Sanitary Commission during the Civil War and another about the Great Depression because one should never, ever let good research languish.