Novel Progress

My current novel in progress, “Cottonwood,” is perhaps, half done at this point. That is my plan, but these things often have a “life” of their own, which goes in directions that I never expected. My research has been exhausting lately, and as in my first book, I find it quite a job to extrapolate “reality” from historical accounts that either contradict each other, or deal with illiterate cultures from the long ago.

I have been working on the subject of American Indian burial mounds. My novel takes place over approximately two centuries of pivotal history in the Minnesota River Valley. It staggers the mind to think about the changes that have taken place and the cultures that existed in the areas where we now live. In some unfortunate cases, the remains of these past peoples have been destroyed in the name of progress and development.

I have had some difficulty finding details of ceremonies, due to the sacred subject matter. There is also some politics involved, as well as a desire in some circles to keep certain details quiet. Despite this, I intend on dealing with the subject matter in a way that I hope, sheds some understanding on the humanity of what some would regard as “inconveniently located, old bones.”

This is but one piece of the larger history that is “witnessed” by the gigantic cottonwoods in the river bottoms where I frequently hike. My most recent hike in the Wilkie unit of the Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge brought me into the thick, June growth where I experienced among other things, stinging nettles, and about three or four dozen wood ticks.

Why I am so attracted to a place that has the ability to brutalize one’s body with poison ivy, thorns, biting insects and sinking mud, can best be understood by my awe in the sights, sounds and smells that I encounter both on and off the trails. Such things from my recent hike included, seeing thousands of Red Admiral Butterflies swarming around me, or the impressive mother Bald Eagle who swooped low and circled me –just to let me know that she knew I was there and that she was still in charge.

I only hope that my novel will do justice to the wonders that I have found over the past three years as a volunteer park ranger. I also hope that I can convince a worthy publisher, that this book is worthy of being published.