I’m delighted to announce that I just signed with an agent to represent me on my newest historical novel set in ancient Ireland. Her name is Joëlle Delbourgo, her agency a boutique literary agency based in the greater New York City area.
JoëlleDelbourgo
Only three days after my return from the Seattle conference I got a surprise email from Joëlle, President and Founder of Joëlle Delbourgo Associates, who I had queried a couple of months before. I had sent her ten pages of my book as she requests for all submissions. Now she wanted a full manuscript.
She has a stellar background. She founded her agency in 1999. For more than twenty years before that she was a senior editorial executive at HarperCollins and Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, so she knows both sides of the publishing world. Her list of sales is impressive.
With considerable excitement I sent her my manuscript. In less than two weeks she wrote to tell me she loved my book. She wanted to talk.
We had a wonderful conversation by phone. She knew my characters. She knew my story so well she pinpointed several specific issues that can make it stronger. And she offered to represent me. I was thrilled.
It just so happened that she had traveled to Ireland last summer for the first time so she knows the land of my characters too. I’m convinced there’s a bit of magic in those green hills.
The photo above brings stone and sea together, the upper line of the stone echoing that notch where the sea gleams bright blue when the air is right. This is one of the pillars in the Bohonagh circle near Rosscarbery, Ireland, sacred circle of the protagonist’s clan in my story.
With this last post in my “Going There 2024” series I’d like to reflect on the highlights of my recent trip to immerse myself in the main settings of my upcoming historical novel. More than anywhere I went it was Rosscarbery on the southern coast of Ireland where my story lived. I had time to wander by myself there and let it all soak in.
I passed a few people when I went down to the beach below but for the most part it was a solitary stroll. There I learned about beach grass on that Irish coast–unlike Oregon’s tall beach grass that found its way into my Irish story and has to be replaced with the low grasses I noticed here.
This is why I “go there.” It’s part of my work as an author. To see the places, and feel them, and try to get it right, so I can bring the reader into these worlds with me when they read the words of my books.
My explorations showed me the lay of the land along the bayshore, which will help with my descriptions. The stunning beauty of an afternoon sunlight on the water might come into a scene.
And the circle? There wasn’t another soul where I climbed to the circle and stepped inside to experience it and imagine how it must have been when musicians played and people danced. Or when they came alone to pray, stepping inside through the portal stones, honoring their Great Ancestress, Grand Mother of them all.
The next most critical site where I could feel my story come alive was at Newgrange. The lofty passage tomb with its own partial circle of stones. The incredible passageway where the light of the winter solstice sunrise shines all the way down to the inner chamber with its meticulous corbelled roof, filling the chamber with light.
I learned that the tomb did not lie in front of the ridge as I had described it, but actually crowned the ridge, the back side having sloughed down the hill behind so it covered some of the surrounding kerbstones and standing stones. The archaeologist who restored the monument brought it back as near as possible to what it was when my characters walked down the long, narrow passage into the vault, and I of course thought of them when I walked inside myself.
Back in Dublin I marveled at the goldwork produced during the time of my protagonist, a young woman goldsmith, as I walked through the remarkable array of gold displayed in the National Museum of Ireland – Archaeology. Here’s just one example of a collection there from about 800 to 700 B.C.
On another excursion I saw more clearly the rugged stones of the great rock, the outcrop of the Rock of Cashel that stands bold upon a broad green plain. I could better describe it now after climbing up those knobby limestone walls myself–not the walls built by men on top of the rock but those left by nature long before, the only walls my characters would have seen.
And when I left Ireland for Hallstatt I would see and learn more. Why Hallstatt when my story is about ancient Ireland? Because of the Celts. Yes, when we think of the Celts we may well think of Ireland. But at the time of my story there wouldn’t have been any Celts in Ireland yet. Not in any numbers anyway. Their homeland in 750 B.C. would have been in Hallstatt, Austria. So to bring the Celts into my story we go there. And I followed.
I had visited this remarkable place once before. But with this visit I would refresh my mind’s image of the brilliant water of that lake between steeper slopes and more massive cliffs than I remembered. I thrilled to the play of light on the water. Was it something different in the skies this time? Or the brush of wind that came with unsettled weather? Or was it always so and I forgot?
It took me awhile to find the waterfall I describe in my story. But there it was above the museum, fog hiding the higher slopes.
I reached the falls at last and will show it more clearly now in the description. Back down on the lake’s edge, I got a better sense of the sheer drops on those bold mountains where my characters walk.
In the Hallstatt Museum I saw a Hallstatt sword, like those I describe in my story. Here’s the real thing, which had been found just up those mountains. I could almost hear the swish of bronze slicing the air.
So much. I left these amazing places, my head full of images, words. How to describe? How to take the images from my head and put them into the words that will let the reader see and feel. Ah! The challenge, the joy, for every writer.
Out of the many experiences I had on my trip this spring of 2024, these are the ones that stand out to me, highlights that will surely affect the work. The journey gave me so much. People along the way offered so much. I am ever grateful.
As I continue to absorb the wonder, may these memories reflect in the pages. Story came to life here.
NOTE: This concludes the “2024 Going There” series. I’ll keep the list of titles on the sidebar so you can navigate the stories whenever you might like. I’ve had fun reliving the moments and hope you’ve enjoyed sharing some of them with me. I’ll continue to post snapshots from the trip on social media now and then. I love hearing your thoughts. Thanks so much.
So where did Ireland get all that gold found in the hoards in the bogs and waters now displayed so beautifully in the national museum? Ireland doesn’t have a lot of gold deposits today, but one place stands out as a possibility. The Wicklow Mountains. It’s the largest mountain range in Ireland, and they did have a gold rush in the 18th century. That’s A.D.
In my story I call them the Gold Mountains because scholars believe there may have been more gold in those hills in the ancient times I write about. On my last full day in Dublin I joined a tour there.
This is the upper lake of Glendalough (glendalough means two lakes) in the Wicklow Mountains. A fair walk to get there, but a pleasant walk, and the goal proved worth it.
The protagonist in my story charts a course between the Gold Mountains and the sea, with hopes they’ll keep her from getting lost.
I got lost in these mountains myself on a previous trip when my friend Tilly and I rented a car and I drove us up this way in search of our B&B we’d reserved. Somehow I got off a roundabout in the wrong place and got us into the back country where roads wound every which way and signs were scarce. We saw a couple of men working on some machinery near the road and stopped to ask directions. They explained it all in great detail. I listened intently, trying to follow what they were saying. The Irish tend to talk fast and they put a little different twist on the English language than we do, but this was more than I’d encountered. After we thanked them and drove off, I asked Tilly, “Did you understand what they said?”
She gave me a wry smile. “Not a word.”
A little farther along I saw a sign to Roundwood. I remembered the name as a town somewhere near the B&B and followed the route in that direction. We could go to Roundwood and ask somebody there how to find the B&B. As we made our way over narrow roads I glanced to my left and saw a building that looked very much like pictures of our B&B. Then a sign with its name. Irish luck. We were there. That evening we drove on to Roundwood for dinner. I told our server where we were staying. She had never heard of it.
Part of our destination on my Glendalough tour this year was the monastery founded by a Saint Kevin in the sixth century A.D., practically modern compared with other sites on my itinerary. The ruins were interesting, the setting gorgeous.
When the tour bus passed through the town of Roundwood I believe I saw the restaurant where Tilly and I had dinner on that night those many years ago. I smiled, the memory warming my heart. Those memories are pure gold.
The upper lake was the best of the tour, but I did enjoy seeing the mountains again while the bus driver drove.
Back in Dublin the driver recommended we visit Saint Stephen’s Green on our own, a jewel in the center of the city. I did that. I remembered the serene beauty in the midst of the bustling city. I had seen it on previous trips. It wasn’t a sunny day this time but the park was beautiful anyway. Green gold, you might say.
And I had to add a photo of typical Dublin townhouse doors.
And back to the now-familiar O’Connell Street with its landmark Spire behind the statue.
Note the bird on the statue’s head. The next day I would be checking out of my wonderful Castle Hotel, which is just up that street, then onto my next base, the city of Limerick, which I’m told has nothing to do with those rollicking poems.
I would not forget the golden memories of my Dublin visit–from Newgrange to Bray to the ancient gold of the museum, to Glendalough, and to the best of Dublin itself.
It’s in Dublin! And I needed to see it! Gold has a place at the heart of my new Irish story. So I set aside a day for this. Welcome to my traipse through Ireland’s glorious golden past.
This intricate gold neck ornament, made in Ireland, comes from the Late Bronze Age, somewhere between 1000 and 500 B.C., during the period of my story.
So much brilliant ancient goldwork has been found in Irish bogs and waters, hoards of it. And the National Museum of Ireland–Archaeology has a dazzling display, including the samples shown in this post. I would spend hours there, stepping into Ireland’s ancient glory.
The lunula goes back to 2300-2000 B.C., named for its crescent moon shape.The museum has many on display, this one showing a good example of the intricate incised markings.
The lunula, like the one above, appears in my story on the necks of clan mothers and future clan mothers in ancient Éire. A lovely ornament made from thin hammered sheets of gold with the incised designs.
When I proceeded to write my newest novel, I first had to decide where to set it. Where did I want to spend the next months, maybe years–at least in story if not in person? The answer came quickly. Ireland.
The next question. When?
I pulled out books and notebooks I’d gathered for other work and began poring through them for intriguing periods in Ireland. One thing jumped out at me. Gold! Historians describe the period around 800 B.C. as a time of a sudden uptick in rich production of gold in Ireland, a veritable revolution in goldwork. This was also a period when the early proto-Celtic culture was thriving in faraway Hallstatt, Austria. I knew how the Irish love their Celts. They wouldn’t be in Ireland in 800 B.C., but could I find a way to bring them into the story?
My decision was soon made. My new book would open during this explosion of fine goldwork, and my protagonist would be a goldsmith–a rare thing for a girl.
So this spring in Dublin I stepped down into the center of the museum where a glittering world of gold surrounded me to learn what goldsmiths were doing in those momentous days.
Gold dress fasteners c. 800-700 B.C.Gold bracelets and dress fastener c. 800-700 B.C.Gold foil-covered sunflower pins c. 800-700 B.C.Gold foil-covered bulla probably worn on a cord around the neck c. 800-700 B.C.Part of a gold bobbin-shaped ear spool possibly to be worn decoratively over the ears c. 800-700 B.C.Lock rings, hair ornaments that appear to be incised, but the lines are made of tiny wires soldered on. c. 800-700 B.C.
The soldered wires in the lock rings are so tiny they barely show in my photos. The enlarged one from the upper left of the photo above it may show the lines better, the curve. Such delicate, intricate work illustrates the fine skill of goldsmiths in this period. If they did this as Levaen did, they hammered the gold into a thin sheet, then rolled from the edge to create the wires and bonded them in place with soldering particles.
This small sample of the museum’s 800-700 B.C. goldwork that fits into my story’s timeline shows no brooch like the one my protagonist Levaen makes in the book, nor did I find anything like it. I began to worry about that, but Carisa, my daughter and beta reader, pointed out that there was no reason Levaen’s fictional goldwork should show up in the Dublin museum, and I remembered that the story presents Levaen’s brooch pattern as special in her own time. What the museum exhibits showed, especially the lock rings with their thin wires, was that the actual goldsmiths of that era were familiar with techniques like the thin wires and soldering Levaen uses to create her brooches.
Going farther back to 1200-1000 B.C. are three twisted gold bracelets and two gold grooved bands.And a gold torc with ribbed rings and bracelets from 1200-1000 B.C.
One exhibit offered a portrayal of how some of these golden objects might have been worn. This illustration features goldwork from the Late Bronze Age, roughly 1000 to 500 B.C., a neck ornament like the one in the photo at the top of the post, along with ear spools of sheet gold, and arm and wrist bracelets pictured above.
Of course these items could have been worn by either men or women or both. There might have been chiefs or chieftainesses. Or perhaps the general public would have donned such brilliance for special occasions. We can only wonder and imagine.
There was so much more gold in the museum’s collection, but some bronze too, that caught my eye.
Swords from 900-500 B.C. Some look like leaf-shaped Hallstatt swords but they’re not labeled as such.
No one knows when the Celts came to Ireland. We only know the language came, so they must have come. But they would not have been in Ireland in any numbers at the time of my story. A few Hallstatt swords possibly came earlier, by trade or other means. Enough to tantalize but not to prove anything.
There’s no intrinsic method of dating metal, so dating depends on surrounding materials that can be dated. In fact, on at least one occasion they found a lunula in a wooden box, which identified the time of its use by testing the wood. Surely a precious object. Dating offered with the museum exhibits of gold and bronze would have been confirmed by surrounding material, but they give a broad span as noted in captions here.
Many objects in the exhibits are labeled as parts of the hoards that included them, deposits placed into bogs or lakes or streams. Why the ancients deposited such hoards, no one knows. Bogs may well have been lakes at the time of the deposits and later dried up, so all deposits may have been placed into the waters. Or some dry or partly drained bogs may have been dug into and the items buried. Were the treasures cached in a time of escape from some crisis? Or were these offerings to their deities? All we can do is guess. We have no writing, no histories, to tell us.
The hoards weren’t all glorious gold. Many practical items were included. A lot of bronze. Practical axe heads, chisels, horns, cauldrons. And swords and spear heads.
Some items are just delightful objects like the one pictured below. I so enjoyed seeing it, I chose to share it here, even though it’s later than my story.
Miniature 7-inch-long gold ship with sailing mast and oars from the 1st century B.C.
