Think about this:
My second novel is set during an interesting time. It is set against the backdrop of a pandemic. A pandemic which was overshadowed by a world war. In 1918 Philadelphia. My novel got a feature in the Historical Novel Society’s print edition, won a couple of awards, was a Today Show Winter Book Selection, was the subject of interviews, discussed during a couple of panels at the Tucson Book Festival, given a very nice write-up in Phoenix Magazine.
I learned a lot about viruses while I researched the novel’s history and setting. I also learned so much about Philadelphia of the time period. For examples: I learned about my own family’s ancestry, the Curb Market on Ninth Street which still exists today. I learned the price of everyday items such as butter or ready-made shirtwaists. I learned what kind of tools a cobbler uses, what drugs doctors prescribed, that there was an Italian hospital in South Philadelphia, also an Italian church that was the first stop in this new land for many, many Italian immigrants, and the proper way to make a variety of Italian pastries. I learned Italian sayings and stories, reacquired the accents and speech cadences of my great-aunts and uncles, my grandparents and great-grandparents, the subjects of my story, set during a time when they were young, new to America, full of beans and vigor and possessing nothing but hope for the future.
And I learned life goes on. Wars happen, tragedy strikes, people die. Then life goes on. Because new people are born, ideas innovated, science uncovered and applied.
For now, as then, our times are interesting, our lives feel precarious, our futures uncertain. But every day the sun rises, every evening the stars shine. Rains fall, flowers root, and—I don’t think this is my imagination—the air is clearer, the water cleaner, and my attitude calmer between the bouts of anxiety.
I live in interesting times. But nothing’s changed. Life is always uncertain. This will pass. All things do. In the meanwhile, I’ll do what I do. I’ll write. I’ll share stories. I’ll find ways to be useful and be grateful for those gifts I’m given: Every day that those I love are whole and healthy. Every moment I’m free to create. Every dozen eggs I score in the grocery delivery.
I live in interesting times. So does everybody else. Everybody. In the entire world.
Every. Single. Person.
And we’re all living here together.
Distanced, but together.
Finally.
Think about that.
(Mindy Tarquini is an oral storyteller and award-winning author of three novels, Hindsight (Sparkpress, 2016), The Infinite Now (Sparkpress, 2017), and Deepest Blue. (Sparkpress, 2018). She loves connecting with people on Facebook and Instagram @MindyTarquiniAuthor. Stop by. Say hello.)
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