Finally my new book, Dark Waters: The Voyage of the Bar Jack, is available. Folks can order the paperback *here or the Kindle version *here. I, of course, think it's a ripping good yarn and I hope others do to.
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(not a spoiler)
After a couple of decades of abortive fiction efforts that seemed to begin well but ultimately go nowhere, I've managed within the last few years to complete two novels. Why were these projects different?
One common thread, I've realized, is that early on in the process, I had a clear vision of how the books would end up. Dark Waters didn't start with such a vision, however. It did start with what seemed a promising setting and characters.
In the summer of 2019, my stepbrother, Charles Ross, said he'd always wanted to create a fantasy role-playing game like Dungeons & Dragons. I admitted I had nursed the same desire and suddenly ideas started flowing. Charlie, a graphic designer, had been reading about the ancient Mayans and studying their art and wanted the game to have a Mayan theme. We talked about time periods and settings and eventually settled on an alternative history world where things diverge from actual history in 1815 when a volcano erupts off the coast of the Yucatan peninsula.
The eruption causes the emergence of strange monsters, enables ESP-like mind powers, and disrupts events around the world: Napoleon wins the Battle of Waterloo, the Seminoles defeat Andrew Jackson's invading army in Florida, piracy runs rampant, and so on. Meanwhile dark forces emanate from the area of the volcano and spread horrors through the forests of Central America and the Caribbean. The theme of our game I dubbed "flintlocks and sorcery." Being early in the industrial age, it would also have steampunk elements. We set to work on game mechanics and devising villains, monsters and adventures that players would have to contend with.
We were working toward something gritty and ominous but not without humor. We wanted a fantasy-adventure feel but with a sense of real danger and elements of Lovecraftian horror. We would call the game, Dark Trails.
A few months into the project, it occurred to me that I could write a companion novel that would introduce the game's world. Charlie thought it was a good idea so I started thinking about it.
Being a fan of Patrick O'Brien novels and books like Riddle in the Sands and The Celtic Circle, I'd always wanted to write a sailing adventure. Why not a story where a ship of misfits heads for the troubled waters of the Gulf of Mexico and has to fend off pirates, monsters, etc.? Ideas started bubbling.
A key moment was the emergence of the character, "Ann Rackham," an alias used by a woman pirate that hearkened back to the days of Anne Bonny, Jack Rackham and the golden age of piracy. With her in mind, the story began to blossom. But she couldn't be the point-of-view character; she needed to remain mysterious. Through whose eyes would this story be told?
My imagination produced a minor nobleman, a Cambridge scholar of mediocre talent, but a man of sufficient means to fund a quixotic expedition to the heart of the world's troubles. Looking through lists of British nobility, a Scottish name stuck out, "LeRoque," which went back to old medieval ties with France. I threw in "Ker," a more ancient Scottish name, and Sir James Henry Ker LeRoque was born. The second son of the Earl of Kirkaldy (a fictional title), he would be a liberal-minded man for the period but still beset with patriarchal prejudices. His courage would be doubtful as would his capacity to see the quest through.
I needed a ship, one that would carry our heroes, one that would be a character in itself. I browsed images of vessels of the era and settled on a two-masted schooner with newfangled sails known as Bermuda rigging. It needed a name, though. Small ships were often named after types of fish, so I browsed a list of Caribbean fishes and one jumped out -- a fast-swimming game fish that looked like a small tuna. The Bar Jack was born.
I used LeRoque as the narrator of the story. Wanting to capture the flavor of the period, I wrote sentences a little longer than I normally would and sprinkled in 50-cent words to give LeRoque's voice a somewhat pompous, intellectual feel. This contrasted with Ann Rackham's rustic, hard-bitten speech. (Many of her expressions were culled from Treasure Island, a guiding light of this book.)
In my research, I learned that during the Napoleonic wars, Britain suffered a manpower shortage and some merchant vessels and whalers took on women as hands. LeRoque would be forced to crew his ship with women.
More characters emerged -- Louisa, LeRoque's crippled but clairvoyant cousin; Leopold von Sydow, a Prussian officer down on his luck in London; Sophia, the mysteriously talented maidservant, and others.
The story was taking shape and filling out. I had some adversaries lined up and some tight spots the characters would face, but I didn't have an ending other than a desire for a climactic confrontation at sea. I continued with my research and wrote preliminary chapters but struggled with the ending. I knew I needed one or this project would die on the vine like previous efforts.
Working on part of the backstory, I wanted a name for a French frigate. When I could, I used names of ships that actually existed at the time like the Squirrel, the Pyramus or the Enterprise. Wikipedia is, fortunately, a great resource for things like that. There I perused a list of imperial French warships. Most of the names, I mercilessly rejected: the Beaufort, nah; the Toulon, nah; the Galant, no; the Brutal, hmm, maybe.
Then a name struck me like a bolt: the Méduse.
At that moment the ending bloomed in my mind. I had it, everything would build toward it, and I would finish this novel.
So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
