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| Expulsion of the Jews from Spain |
Elizabeth
Zelvin is the editor of Me Too Short Stories: An Anthology
(crimes against women, tales of retribution and healing); she's also author of
the Bruce Kohler Mysteries and the Mendoza Family Saga, a series of Jewish
historical novels and short mysteries. She's been nominated three times each
for the Derringer and Agatha Awards for Best Short Story. Today she joins us to
discuss where she gets her ideas. Learn more about her and her books at her
website.
Where Do You Get Your Ideas?
On one level, I
get my ideas from the same place as every other writer: from what I know, what
I Google, and the voices in my head. On another, I'm still astonished that
since I've been writing mysteries, I've never heard another author say, “I
write because I have something to say.” (I was pleased to hear Bradley Cooper
tell Lady Gaga that's why she should be writing songs in the new version of A Star Is Born. Yes!) The first Bruce
Kohler novel started with a title. I was running a treatment program for
homeless alcoholics on the Bowery, and I kept saying, “Someday I’m going to
write a mystery and call it Death Will
Get You Sober.” I wanted to write about the transformational power of
recovery from alcoholism—not just a drunk getting sober, but deep emotional
growth—and make it funny. And I did, though not till I quit my day job.
I come from an
intellectual New York Jewish family for whom Judaism was bagels and lox and the
occasional Seder, and that was it. I never had the slightest interest in
writing about it. So imagine my surprise when a young Jewish sailor, Diego,
came knocking on the inside of my head in the middle of the night, saying, “Let
me out!” I didn't want to get out of bed, but he insisted I tell his story. The
Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492, on the same day Columbus set sail, and
Diego sailed with them. That's all I knew, so that's how I learned to do
research, a skill set I'd avoided all my life. I also became much more
knowledgeable about Judaism, especially its social justice agenda, tikkun olam—repairing the world—and
passionate about cultural relativism. I didn't get there by “ripping it from
the headlines,” but it sure is relevant.
The first short
story was a mystery, with Admiral Columbus as the kindly father figure and
detective. But I wanted to write more, so I turned to history for my ideas. And
history is dark.
I found myself
writing not only about the horrors inflicted on the Jews by both Spain and
Portugal, but also about the genocide of the Taino in the Caribbean. Diego's
sister Rachel was born to accompany Diego on the second voyage because I needed
a female character. Becoming a protagonist, perhaps my most beloved character,
was her own idea. She sprang to life and stole the show. These days she's
solving mysteries in the Sultan's harem in Istanbul in the 1520s and going home
to her delightful family at night. The ideas come from the constraints of
history, the setting, and the backstory I've set up for the fictional Mendozas
in previous work. The fun comes from not having to stick to the biases of the
21st century.
And so we get to
my new anthology, Me Too Short Stories.
In thirty-five years in my "other hat" as a therapist, I have heard
many, many stories. I used certain things I know to craft a short story, “Never
Again”: that parental child molestation may start when the child is a toddler,
and that obese women, who may have eating disorders and/or be survivors of
sexual trauma, suffer overwhelming shame. As I considered where I might place
this story for publication, I realized that not only was it too dark for the
traditional mystery markets, including Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock, but
the noir e-zines wouldn't want it because it gave abused children and fat women
a voice. Feminist journals? But it was crime fiction. Dark literary
looking for something different? That editor doesn't like a happy ending, ie
writer can't empower women characters. This story needed a home that didn't
exist. I had to create one. And that's my biggest idea so far.
Me Too Short Stories, An Anthology
What do women
want? A voice. To be heard. Respect. To be believed. Justice. To be both safe
and free. The women in these stories have daughters, sisters, friends. The
minister worries about her parishioners. The banshee worries about the
Hippocratic Oath. The microbiologist worries about her obligation to the dead.
They will use any means to protect themselves and those they love: a childish
jingle, a skillet full of cornbread, a candle, their own quick wits. We cannot
ignore their voices.
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