How I Built My Novel by Nancy Burkhalter

My goal with The Education of Delhomme was to write a believable, historically accurate tale that transports readers back to the marvelous decades when painter upon musician upon writer swirled among the French elite. By burrowing into the country’s glorious and turbulent mid-nineteenth century history, I brought characters like Frédéric Chopin and George Sand to life by wrapping them in a story starring my fictitious piano tuner. But first I had to drink in information about their personalities and plights to be able to show how each interacted with events of that time. Here are some components of my journey. Where to begin?

For starters—the concept. My most frequently asked question is, ‘How’d ya come up with that idea?’ I have no clue! Such a process is as mysterious as it is unpredictable. The best ideas pop up when I’m most indisposed. If one is good enough, it will last until I towel off and find a piece of paper. But I can tell you this: the character Delhomme was conceived sometime between 1973, when I started my tuning apprenticeship, and 2006, when I dared to pen my novel’s first sentence. I reasoned that most pianists must have had a tuner. So why not Chopin? I let the idea churn and morph through umpteen drafts, and that’s when Delhomme took center stage.

Next, I owed readers historically accurate information, and I also knew that some historical novel aficionados are quite familiar with the characters, setting, and history of the era. So, for the historical novelist, thorough research is mandatory. I verified, for instance, that the train to Châteauroux (close to Nohant) was completed by 1847; whereas the train to Calais was not finished until the end of 1850, meaning that, on their way to England, Chopin and Delhomme had to switch to a horse-drawn carriage at Lille. Woe to the writer who clothes anyone in anachronistic attire or plants crops never grown in the area, oversights that can pull readers out of the story and lose their trust.

Nancy Burkhalter relied heavily on this book published in 1937 to give her a truer picture of Chopin’s life in 19th century France. Image from Amazon.com.

To paint the truest picture of the times, I consulted every source I could find on Chopin, Sand, Vidocq, French and Polish history, 1840s French fashion, Camille Pleyel, the Broadwood piano factory, and more. My prize discovery was a thirty-eight-page book titled How Chopin Played (publ. 1937) buried among several larger tomes on a library shelf. It’s a collection of the thoughts gleaned through conversations and correspondence between Edith Hipkins and her father, Alfred J. Hipkins, a piano tuner at the Broadwood piano factory and musicologist, who had heard Chopin play and was noted for faithfully performing his music. It wasn’t a primary source, but it was close enough to give me goose bumps.

Organizing tons of information and sources presented another challenge. Many programs and websites tout solutions to help organize chapters, research, quotes, and so forth. For me, though, those tools mean learning new software, thereby cutting into my precious writing time. I see them as a stalking horse for procrastination. With apologies to Shakespeare, the writing’s the thing. Get on with it already!

Debut novelist Nancy Burkhalter with a copy of her book, The Education of Delhomme: Chopin, Sand, & La France.

Next, one must pay obeisance to story structure. This is true whether you’re writing a speech, dissertation, or magazine article. Each type lives or dies by the grammar, style, mechanics, etc., dictated by each. That said, artists have some license to stick a toe or two outside conventions, but doing so may mean confusing—or worse, irritating—the reader. One must first learn the rules. In fiction that means knowing how to shape a scene, build tension on every page, create a story arc, and on and on. It took longer to learn how to write fiction (three plus years) than how to tune (one year). And I still feel like a journeyman at both.

Finally, because I am a linguist, I also made sure that words and expressions existed in English during the time frame of my book (around 1848), even though most of my characters spoke French. So, for each one that I questioned, I consulted Merriam-Webster.com. For instance, did shadow boxes exist then? Was the word ‘scapegrace’ in use? Oui, to both. Of course, those words may not have an equivalent in French, but in the end, the book is for English speakers. A word that seems too contemporary may jar readers and signal that I had not done my homework. Alert bookworms will notice that I used no contractions, not because people didn’t use them back then (they started in the 17th century after ‘not’ lost stress and tone), but stylistically it added an air of formality, which seemed proper for a time when women wore bustles and men sported top hats just to stroll in the park.  

Too obsessive? Maybe. But I rest easy knowing I can point to a source for every word, phrase, and fact I included in The Education of Delhomme. After all, truth matters in historical fiction.

Nancy Burkhalter is an educator, writer, journalist, linguist, and piano tuner. She is the author of The Education of Delhomme: Chopin, Sand, and La France. Burkhalter holds a Master’s degree in journalism and English education as well as a Doctorate in linguistics from the University of New Mexico. She has taught composition for many years in the U.S., Germany, Saudi Arabia, Kazakhstan, and Russia. Her overseas work led to an interest in comparative education, especially critical thinking. Both observations and research led to her book and blog, Critical Thinking Now.

Photo Credit: Austin Irving