BACKGROUND RESEARCH TO CREATE SETTING AND TEXTURE FOR THE FOLK KEEPER One might think that I, a writer of fantasy, have no need for research. On the contrary. Research is crucial, not because I am trying to bring a real geographical place or historical time to life, but because the details that research unveils allow me to write the kinds of descriptions that create a convincing fictional world. Every author’s mission is to describe the fictional world so convincingly, using such accurate and vivid details, that it seems the world must exist. This is, perhaps, especially important in fantasy. The reader of a realistic novel has a context for understanding; he or she can fill in any missing details. But my readers don’t know, for example, what a world filled with selkies might look like, and so I must evoke it powerfully—powerfully enough that the fantasy reader will suspend his or her disbelief (“There’s no such thing as a selkie!”) and walk willingly through the world I have built. I also believe it crucial to use details that engage all the senses. I try to bring smell, taste, and sensation into the world of my books, not just sight and sound. I want to create a fictional world that my readers can step into, that makes them forget they are moving their eyes across symbols on a page, makes them feel, instead, the fictional sand shift beneath their feet, makes them hear the fictional wind howling along the cliffs. Here are examples of the research I did to bring The Folk Keeper to life. The Folk Keeper was inspired by folktales of the sealpeople, or selkies—creatures which assume the shape of a seal while in the water, but which may shed their sealskins to assume a human form. My heroine, Corinna, believes herself to be human, but she is in reality half selkie, half human. Hers is a story of self discovery; she learns of her true heritage. Her journey takes her first to the sea, and then into a series of caverns deep below the earth, trapping her with the Folk, which are menacing creatures in a kind of dark underworld. My setting, therefore, had to evoke not only a seascape, but a stonescape, the world of those stony Caverns, where the Folk lurk, waiting, in the dark. Research on the Sea and Seals I began by researching the sea and seals. Here is an example of how this played out in The Folk Keeper. Let us examine part of a scene, the scene in which Corinna first jumps into the sea (attached here as an Appendix). The scene is built upon my knowledge, acquired through research, of these details:
Examine the scene; look for the details inspired by this research. Research on Waves and Underwater Life All the descriptions of underwater life are as accurate as research could make them. I learned that barnacles, for example, close up tight above water, but underwater, open with, as Corinna says, “feathery legs to sweep the sea.” (Page 90.) Corinna again recognizes how plants and animals come alive underwater in her description of the undersea plants and the crabs and sea urchins on the top of page 158. I learned about waves. I learned that a single fifteen-foot wave can cast 200 tons of water on a boat. That piece of information allowed me to write this description (page 28): “A wave broke against us, and before it shook apart into splash and spray, I felt the strength of it, the hundreds of pounds smashing our boat.” Research on Caves Likewise, I had to gather information on caves to add texture and authenticity to Corinna’s journey into the Caverns. Here are examples of the research that helped me create a convincing underground world:
Corinna’s story unfolds mainly on the fictional island of Cliffsend, which I envisioned as a wild rocky place with great cliffs plunging into a cold lashing sea. I knew that I (a city dweller!) could not rely on my imagination to convincingly describe such a place, and so I decided to model my fictional island on a real place called Orkney, a group of Scottish islands north of the Scottish mainland. Note: I did not actually set it on Orkney; rather, I used Orkney as a guide. I read books about Orkney, especially books with good photos, so I could see the seacoast for myself and describe it in my own words. My reading allowed me to incorporate details of Orkney’s natural history. (Corinna observes, for example, that there are no trees on Cliffsend. That is because I learned that the strong, salty winds of Orkney inhibit the growth of trees.) I read about the thousands of seabirds that inhabit the cliffs of Orkney, and I filled my fictional air with their cries. I also borrowed architectural and cultural details. Orkney’s capital, Kirkwall, is home to St. Magnus’s Cathedral, which one of my research books describes as being built of “alternating and patterned blocks of red and ochre sandstone.” This image crept into the novel. I gave Cliffsend’s capital city a cathedral, which Corinna describes as “a crazy-quilt cathedral, all red and yellow stone.” (Page 59.) An open space lies at the foot of St. Magnus’s, which used to be the site of the “Lammas Fair,” held in August. I borrowed this detail. In August, Corinna attends the Harvest Fair, which is held at the foot of the cathedral. These, then, are real details that I wove into my story, hoping to increase the vividness and authenticity of my setting. I borrowed from Orkney folklore. Orkney sailors used to believe that an amber bead will protect you from the perils of the sea, and so I give amber beads to Corinna and Finian when they go sailing. I borrowed the Orkney custom of examining charred squares of peat for a clue as to whom you are to marry (pages 85-86). I also borrowed generally from British folklore. The belief that selkie blood can call up a storm is a traditional belief, and I use it in my book. I also weave in the traditional belief that you can call the selkies by shedding tears into the sea. Just as I had decided to model the geographical setting on Orkney, I decided to model the historical setting on Britain, about 1780. Again, I did not set it in 1780, I merely used that time period as a guide. I did general research about the time (clothes, candles, carriages), and I found that from time to time I had to investigate specific details. For example, I wanted Corinna to write with a piece of lead (I couldn’t figure out how she’d manage to write with ink and quill when she’s trapped in the Caverns for so many weeks), which meant that I needed to make sure people wrote with lead in the late-eighteenth century. I very much like what one reviewer said of my fictional worlds: “Billingsley has done an admirable job of fully evoking a fantasy place and time that feels almost as real as here and almost as current as not so long ago.” (Janice Del Negro reviewing Well Wished in The Bulletin for the Center of Children’s Books.) She beautifully summed up what it is I try to do. I think of Corinna’s world as being much like our world, only overlaid with magical elements. And so it is my responsibility to make sure her world is vivid and convincing and, above all, internally consistent and true to its own magic.
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