The Accuracy of Fiction

Susan Higginbotham has a post on accuracy in historical novels that I find very interesting. There is always a question in historical fiction of how "historical" it should be. Of course there are as many opinions as there are readers. Some people just treat the work as pure fiction using a previous time and real people, and don't expect much. Others at least hope that there is nothing misleading or impossible in the work. And then there are those who expect it to be a fully realized scholarly work that nears the genre of narrative history. I had one reader of an early draft of Saint Mark's Body insist that I should include a disclaimer that clearly stated the parts that were true and the ones I made up.

She doesn't read much historical fiction.

Anyway, it caused me to examine the characters in my book who were real people, and the liberties I took with them.

Buono and Rustico, the Venetian merchants who according to legend stole the body: I've never been able to find a thing out about them other than their names, and that Buono is also called "Tribunus" in some legends. I made them fully developed characters with personalities, which I have no reason to beleive accurate. However, it is likely that I do so without fear of contradiction.

(the future) Pope Gregory IV: biographies paint him as an ally of the Franks and favored member of the Roman ruling classes. He's only in one scene so I don't need him to do much. I chose to have him sort of gently push things in the background, and created a purely fictional character to bring in some of the heavier intrigues.

Emperor Michael II "the Amorian" : A lot has been written about this man - a soldier, probably illiterate, constantly at odds with the workings of the Byzantine Empire he rules. Michael had a lot of trouble both internal and external in his reign. I tried to present him as straightforward, uncomfortable with the byzantine nature of the Byzantine empire, and easily frustrated.

Caliph Al-Ma'mun : Here a lot of writings survive (thank you, literate medieval Islam) about not only the politics and interests of Al-Ma'mun but also his character. I felt that I knew him reasonably well, and was quite comfortable giving Al-Ma'mun words and actions according to his character as I understood it. Interestingly, despite him appearing in only two chapters, a couple of my draft readers said he was their favorite character.

The Doge of Venice, Giustiniano Partecipazio : His history is known, but I have found very little about his character. So I made him what I needed him to be, and tried to think about how the known events of his life (his brother jumped him in the line of succession to the throne, so he deposed his father and brother.... then later on made that same brother his heir!) would have shaped his character. One nice thing about Giustiniano is that his will survives, so we can at least see what he was thinking in the year of his death.

President Lincoln's Body

The DVD recorder/player is broken, so Emjay and I took a rare look at the broadcast tv schedule. History channel had a program on that I couldn't resist: "Stealing Lincoln's Body" I couldn't help but laugh, especially when we sat down to watch and the program made repeated references to thefts of saints' bodies and relics over the centuries.

So, how similar was the theft of Lincoln's body to that of Saint Mark's? Well, not very. A few similarities:

• Lincoln was about the closest thing America had to a native saint, having been martyred for the cause of Union. It's estimated that 20% of the U.S. population saw the train carrying the body from Washington to Springfield, and millions actually viewed his remains in more than a dozen open-casket stops.
• In the legends, a saint's body is always preserved incorruptible by holiness. (in my book, I give a more scientific explanation for Mark) Lincoln's body was prepared for its long journey and many viewings by the relatively new science of embalming.
• Merchants (in my book, smugglers) steal Mark. Counterfieters steal Lincoln, with the intention of holding the body for ransom.

And some major differences:

• Lincoln's theives were not successful. The counterfieters were stopped by U.S. Secret Service agents. Interestingly, their mission was NOT to protect the President, nor had it ever been, at that time in history. They were involved simply because their role in investigating counterfieters.
• There is no mention of miracles surrounding the theft or (attempted) transport of Lincoln.
• Lincoln's head seems to have remained attached to his body. As far as anyone knows, it still is.
• Springfield, Illinois did not become the central city of an empire destined to dominate the Great Lakes for centuries.

More than once I had to snicker at the incompetence. Buono and Rustico would have gotten away with Lincoln's body, no problem.

Some Historicals of Note

Now that I'm getting more and more into the business of finding representation for my book, I've started to follow a couple of blogs by historical fiction authors.

Historical Boys is by author C.W. Gortner. He posts on a variety of subjects, brings in guest authors, and lists some good resources for the aspiring writer.

Another is Readings, Rantings.... (I'm not typing the whole title) by Susan Higginbotham, who specializes in late medieval England and, like any good blogger, doesn't let that specialization limit her posts.

Early abs, and first rejection

My son woke me up early so I did a quick abs workout: 25x toe-supported situps, up fast and down slow. Then 2x24 alternating knees, then a minute each on front, left oblique, and right oblique plank.

Then opened the computer to find my first rejection letter from an agent! I had actually been looking forward to crossing that hurdle. It's a milestone every author has to pass. I expected a rejection from this agent since he reads just the first page of the book before making an initial decision, and my first page was admittedly somewhat weak. But wait!

In chess, you move the weakest piece first... when we lift weights, we concentrate on the weakest muscle... why didn't I deal with this before?!!

So I changed the first page before sending out to another crop of agents. Now instead of painting a picture first of the sky and the sea and then getting into the action, here's the first line:

"It was a magnificent sunset, and since the San Nicola's sailors had nothing better to do than worry about being hanged, they lined the rail to watch it."

Hopefully at least one agent will want to know why they're in mortal danger, and ask for the rest of the book!

First queries to agents

I took an important step this weekend towards the publication of my book: I sent queries to three agents who I think might want to represent it.

If you haven't tried to get a book published before, let me tell you it's a strange process. (Possibly filled with mayhem.) First, you have to do all the work and finish the book. Only then, can you try to get an agent. Then the agent has to hook an editor, and the editor has to sell it to his or her publisher. Every agent has unique preferences and quirks. Each one has different rules for what you can and cannot send in the initial contact. Since agents can get dozens of inquiries from unpublished authors every day, this is necessary. It doesn't make it any easier on the author.

So,

To agent JK: by email, a one-page query that includes a description of the book's plot, and the first page of the text.

To agent ES: by snail mail, a one-page query that just gives the "hook" for the book, because the package also includes a 9-page complete plot summary and the first three chapters.

To agent IG: by email, a one-page query (short version), the aforementioned summary, and the first ten pages of the text.

I'm sure I'll be doing lots more of these - hey, maybe I'll submit to an agent that wants exactly the same thing as one of the first three, and I can save some time for workouts!

I am Fate!

A few friends are now reading the manuscript of Saint Mark's Body. One wrote,

"I don't normally get to confront an author... but you're going to kill the captain, aren't you? He's too wise, too respected... every character like that in a book or a movie always dies."

That's some of the best feedback I've recieved about the book! It means this reader has invested some emotion in that character, and cares enough about him to confront me BEFORE anything even happens to him.

Regarding killing characters, it IS a violent book. It's set in a violent time. I killed off a few characters I really liked, and I let one live who I originally decided would die at a certain point. That thought process was an interesting one. A character needs to live if the story can't go on without him, and he has to die if his death advances the story.

I can't wait to see what this reader says when Buono's fate is revealed... and when some other characters "advance the story" in various ways.

Preparing to launch

You might have noticed in the sidebar that I'm claiming SAINT MARK'S BODY is finished. Well, there is indeed a pre-publication draft out that is going to a few friends, including my high school english teacher. (I've kept in touch with him by designing fights for plays he directs)

Just to make sure no one squats the domain name, I've started a site for the book. Soon it will contain excerpts and news as I begin the slow, treacherous march from writing to publication.

If it works correctly, I THINK you can send me mail there, at author@saintmarksbody.com .

I particularly liked the part where I got to select a user name for the site.

Put a Lampshade On It!

You might think that writing a work of historical fiction is all about getting the facts right and telling an interesting story around them. I think that's mostly true. But what about when the facts aren't as interesting as you'd like, or the facts are in dispute?

If Miles Davis had been a writer, he might have said, "It's the facts you don't write."

Case in point for me is the problem, first raised by Reader Ray, that the body of Mark might not have been in the place where I have my protagonists find it.

The History of the Coptic church puts the body in the rival Melkite church at that time. Norwich's History of Venice, drawing from European sources, puts it in the Coptic church. Most other authorities are ambiguous, saying only that it came from Alexandria.

My problem is that I want Mark to come from the Coptic church which he founded, and I don't want to confuse the reader by including the Melkites. But I don't want to be wrong either. So what's an author to do?

One tactic is called, "putting a lampshade on it.". That is, to point out within the narrative that I know about the problem. It's a footnote without footnoting.

You can see lampshading in many popular works. An good example would be Jack Bauer making a comment about how he seems to have one really bad day a year. The writers are saying, in effect, "we know this is implausible. Give us a break, and enjoy."

So, Mark stays with the Copts, and I include this exchange:


"I'll go to the church," Buono said, "and speak to the priests myself."

"My dear Buono, I urge you, do not. The situation is too delicate," Claudius warned.

"You just don't want me going without you."

"Yes, because you stand to ruin everything I've worked for! Look, Buono, the body may not even be there. Some say it lies in the Melkite church, all but the head!"

Buono frowned. "Now, you're just trying to complicate matters," he said.


And that's what makes it fiction- and hopefully a good read.

Medieval Prices - yes, it's as confusing as you'd think.

In my opening chapter I have my two merchants arriving at Venice with a cargo of oil and pepper - pretty valuable commodities at the time - but they have covered this cargo with a bit of grain and are telling the customs official that it's "grain... all the way down." As part of the fact checks, I had to work out whether all this is plausible, and whether the actual values of the goods involved justify such deceit.

A ship of this kind (52 tons displacement, 15m long) was found off Bozburun, Turkey. Dr. Matthew Harpster reconstructed the wreck, and he estimated that there were about 1100 amphorae in the cargo hold. Each could hold a couple of gallons of liquid. My estimate is that the same ship could hold about 4000 bushels of grain.

Based on this handy reference site, I calculated some prices. I had to make some assumptions to convert everything: for example, that in this time period a gram of gold is worth 10 grams of silver. (It's more like 50:1 today, I think) Also a byzantine solidus weighs 4.5 grams. And so:

A cask of pepper weighing 20 pounds is worth about 32 solidi: they are smuggling "a few dozen" casks. Estimated worth: over 1000 solidi.

Could not find a reference for oil - but wine was worth 4-8 pennies per gallon. I estimated 2 shillings for the capacity of one amphora... 1000 amphorae * 2 shillings * 18g/shilling * 1g Au/10g Ag --> about 800 solidi.

Claimed cargo: 4000 bushels of grain... @ 50 lb/bushel ... a different source gives a value of 10g silver per 100kg wheat... yada yada ... about 200 solidi.

So, it all checks out: they pay 10% duty on 200 solidi but are bringing in 1800 solidi worth of goods... saving 160 solidi (less whatever bribe they made) 100 solidi at that time would have been a nice yearly income for a minor noble.

So there you have it Dear Reader, I am thinking about all this stuff... it's not all blood and pirates and sex and riots in the street!

Document Life Cycle Management is Older Than You'd Think

My nautical archaeologist contact clued me into an amazing resource. The Jewish and Arabic scholar Shlomo Goiteim made his life's work the translation and understanding of a trove of medieval documents from something called the Cairo Geniza.

Jews believe, as many do, that the name of God is sacred. This extends to the written name: so any paper that might contain God's name is considered special. As a practical matter, any writing in Hebrew may contain the Name. At the very least, the characters YHWH would all appear in any writing of length. So even if out of order and separated, the Name is in there.

What to do, then, with personal letters, bills of sale, property records, lading bills, legal arguments, etc, etc? A special room in the medieval synogogue called the geniza was set aside as a repository. Eventually the documents would be interred to await the Resurrection. In Cairo, the geniza was a room with no doors or windows, with only a slot near the ceiling accessible by ladder. It was opened in the late 19th century and has been studied ever since.

This is one of those, to my Goyish way of thinking, quaint and wonderful bits of Jewish scholarly thought. One bit of logic leads to another, and then naturally one needs to construct a geniza!

It gives us a unique window on daily life in medieval times which is not available from any other subculture. The Muslims and Christians of course wrote things down, but their more casual writings are ephemera. For the Jews of Cairo in 1100 AD, everything went into the Geniza.

Some welcome help on fact checks

I've made contact with a nautical archaeologist based in Turkey who has done an extensive reconstruction of a ninth century sailing vessel on which my Venetians' ship is based. I have a whole list of questions on sailing and cargo characteristics for him: so I'm very excited to have gotten a reply and also some references for commerce at that time. You'll notice from the fact check list that a lot of the details are in specific prices and relative values. Also the technical information on sailing characteristics will be very helpful in the action scenes.

Sure, sure, the casual reader doesn't know a tack from a clew and doesn't care. But I find that the best part about reading good historical fiction is immersion in the culture and technology, even if it's not understood as long as it's self-consistent.

Facts I'm checking

A selection from the fact check sheets: just to give you an idea of the scope of the next phase of book writing. Aren't these fun taken out of context?

• A 9th century vessel displacing 52 tons can carry about 200 amphorae of oil, or 4000 bushels of grain.
• In Venice in 827, you could sell a few dozen casks of black pepper for 600 gold solidi. (2.6kg gold)
• But even a whole ship full of saffron would not be worth 10,000 solidi.
• Women dancers in venice in 827 were considered disreputable.
• In 827, the Pope wore red slippers.
• Sharks exist in the Mediterranean.
• Depths in the Giudecca Canal can range from 3 1/2 to 4 fathoms.
• 9th century fishermen in the Adriatic used hook-and-line to catch big fish
• 6 solidi is a high, but reasonable, price for treating a dislocated shoulder
• Goat droppings come in piles.
• Belaying pins were commonly used in the 9th century.
• An old man with an arrow in his lung would last at least a minute before suffocating.
• A brothel in Constantinople might have a floor made of reed mats.
• The road Makoros Embolos in Constantinople was made of crushed stone.
• "Al-Sinnif" is the Arabic equivalent of the nickname, "Lefty".
• The Coptic pope in December, 827 was named Yakub.
• The Pharos lighthouse was on the left side as one exited Alexandria harbor.
• Catapult stones fired over water can skip if launched at a flat enough angle.
• It is possible to float an iron pin in sea water by coating it in oil.
• A Dromon carried about 150 oarsmen.
• Greens and squash are available in Bari, Italy in January.
• There are carvings of Abraham and Mary on St. Mark's Basilica

Redlines done!

It was a sprint to the end: in all I burned through three red pens and covered 396 pages with scribbles. Also I compiled a detailed list of facts to check, and made notes to track how each character and plot idea develop in the course of the book. Next step is to churn through all that, make any factual or structural corrections necessary, and then it's time to write the draft for submission to publishers.

A few lines of Coptic

I'm editing a fun section - the actual taking of the body from St. Mark's Church. The event in my book is surrounded by the chaos of a multi-faction street riot. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to write a baroque fugue, with all the different lines coming together. Hopefully the writing is tight and clear enough to make it all hang together.

I have a couple of lines of Coptic that I want to put in the text, if any speakers of that language happen to be looking at the blog. They are,

"Mark, save us!"

and

"Save Saint Mark!"

The astute reader will figure something out about how I've written the event based on these two lines...

I realize of course that the real Coptic uses a different character set: I will be transliterating to the English alphabet in the text.

Hey, while I'm at it there is a single word of Arabic that I also need. What would an Arabic-speaking sailor from, say, Syria yell upon sighting land? The classic English line is, "Land ho!" or just "Land!" Naturally I would have to transliterate that as well.

I thank my readers for any help they can offer.

Melkites?!!

Following up on Ray's comments to the last post - I have found an English version of the story he references online.

"During the schism which burst between the Copts and the Melkites, the first kept the head while the body remained with the latter. On 644 A.D., a soldier sneaked into the church where the head was buried. He took it away to his ship under the impression that it was a treasure. Later, when Amro-Ebn-El-Aas (leader of the Arab troops) ordered the ships to sail off Alexandria, that particular ship could not move. Eventually the soldier had to confess and Amro handed it back toPope Benjamin. The saint''s body did not remain in Egypt, for it was stolen and taken to Venice by some Italian merchants. They built a huge cathedral in St. Mark''s name, believing that St. mark was their patron Saint. In 1968, part of his relics which is now kept in the new Cathedral in Cairo, was offered to the Egyptian Pope Cyril (Kyrillos VI) from Pope Paul VI)."

Oh, my. Imagine that you've spent 2 years writing a book about a body being taken from one place, and then be told that it was never there at all! Well, there are a few ways out of this. First, not every source says that the body was with the Melkites. Second, authors use composites all the time. Whether this story of the Melkites having the body is true or not, I think I need to composite the two churches of Egypt into one, and have the action take place there. Perhaps I can include an authors' note explaining this, and my reasons for it.

As an aside, there are those who beleive that the Venetians did not get Saint Mark's body at all: that instead, they took Alexander the Great, who was secretly buried in Alexandria. Does it matter exactly which body they took? For my purposes, no. All that matters is that the Venetians thought they had Mark, and so did everyone else.

The edits are coming along nicely!

Visiting the Copts - Part III

Habib poured me a big, black cup of coffee.

"It's not cappuchino," he admitted, "For that you have to come to my place."

Besides the coffee, there was cake and pastry - and big, big trays piled up high with hamburgers and hot dogs in buns. It made sense. In reading up on Coptic traditions beforehand, I learned that they strictly fast before eucharist. Many other Christians do this as well - but their services are three hours shorter.

The other men came in shortly afterwards. I sat down with the cafe owner, a young physician, an FBI translator of Arabic and a professor of finance. They all insisted that I eat something with my coffee, so I got a small piece of nutcake.

Everyone was very interested in the book. I explained that it was not a history, but a historical fiction.

"I know there are a million ways it could have happened," I said, "I just want to write down the most interesting one that's possible."

So I asked the men at the table what they knew about the theft of Saint Mark: what stories and legends had been passed down in their culture? What could possible have persuaded Coptic Priests to give up the body of their first pope?

No one had a good idea of it. I did find that for these modern Copts, thoughts of that time are heavily colored by the history of the Islamic conquest, and the recent history of radicalism in Egypt which many beleive the government turns a blind eye to. (I'm not touching that one.)

They did agree on one thing. "A lot of people say the priests were bribed," the translator said, "There's no way they would take money for a thing like that."

"I agree with you," I told him, "The way I wrote it, they were offered money and refused."

Everyone liked that. By now, Father Demetrios had sat down with us. All the men kissed the cross in his hand, and he blessed them. I shook his hand and introduced myself. He said Habib had told him all about me.

"Why don't you eat something?" he asked me.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't fast like all of you," I admitted, "I've had breakfast."

"Ha! At least he confesses it!" the professor said. I got the impression that breakfasting was often done, but rarely admitted.

By now I could see that the how and why of the theft wasn't something they thought about much. It had just happened to them, the same way foreigners had invaded and ruled their country since the time of the Greeks... and the Romans... and the Byzantines... and the Caliphate... Ottomans... Napoleon... the British...

"Let me tell you how I wrote it," I said, "And you can tell me if it sounds all right."

I told the story of Buono da Malamocco and Rustico da Torcello entering Saint Mark's church: what they said to the priests, what was happening in the city outside the church, the body leaving the church and what happened after that. (If you weren't in that room, then you'll have to wait until I finish the book, and you buy it, to hear the rest.)

A long silence.

"That's it," the translator said, "That's exactly the way it must have happened."

I left with a good list of contacts in my notebook, as several of my new friends offered to help with translations or future research. Also Father Demetrios took me up to his study and let me copy some pages (in English, thankfully) from a book he had. I also left with a very touching story.

"I would like to make a comment," the physician's elderly father said, "I was there in the Cairo airport when the Pope brought Saint Mark's Body to us from Rome."

I had heard of this. The Roman Pope, Paul gave to the Coptic Pope Cyril with his own hands relics of Saint Mark. The old man told me all this with a misty eye, how he was there and saw it himself, and how the Copts rejoiced to have their saint back home after 1,140 years. I could tell that the image was still vivid in his mind, a rare moment of joy and victory for his people in a long history of increasing marginalization.

There was more. His son, the physician told me that there was not enough money to build a proper cathedral to house the relics, but that Nasser's government came through with the funds. That made Saint Mark a symbol of Egypt, and acknowledged the Coptic religion as integral to Egyptian nationalism - even if the nation itself was Muslim. I didn't know about that part. I found it very touching.

After this visit I feel like I have the last piece of the puzzle. The edits are coming along - the story as I've written it seems to be a good one - and from the contacts I made there, (and now here in this blog- thanks Ray!) I'm confident that I can give the parts of the tale that happen in old Alexandria the right feel.

Visiting the Copts - Part II

The Coptic liturgy is like opera - an expression of the greatest human suffering, with the hopeful spark of divinity that is man's greatest joy. It is also like opera in that it is entirely sung, and is four hours long. Fortunately Habib told me that, like many of the men, he only attended the final hour.

That sounded good to me. I set out on foot from my house at a quarter to eleven. I had driven by the church many times before, sometimes pointing it out to Emjay and saying, "I really need to talk to those guys about my book."

When I got there, I wasn't quite sure how to enter. The obvious big front door was locked. I went to a side door. I could already hear voices singing, and smell incense. It didn't seem right. I waited outside, and soon a family drove up.

"Good morning," I said, "I was hoping I could visit today. Can I go in with you?"

"Sure," the dad said, "Wait- are you Christian?"

I don't think anyone had ever asked me that before. I copped to it, and followed him in.

Orthodox churches traditionally have an entry hall called a narthex, the main room for worship which is the nave, and the sanctuary where the priests manage the sacred objects and Body and Blood of Christ. The three areas are laid out like a Manhattan "railroad" apartment, so one enters the narthex to get to the nave, and reaches the sanctuary from there. St. Mary's and St. George's did not begin life as an orthodox church. That explained the locked main doors. The side entrance and rooms served as the narthex.

I followed my host through a couple of rooms used as Sunday schools and nurseries. We entered the nave very near the front of the nave - so far to the front that we were behind the deacons, who at the moment were prostrating themselves on the floor. I stepped gingerly past them and found a pew in the back.

A crowd of altar boys, acolytes and deacons led the chants and hymns from the front. Men had the left side pews and women the right. Kids hopped freely from one side to the other and no one seemed to mind. The priest wore long white robes and a white satin hat with tails. He had his back to us, praying at the altar in a cloud of incense.

Once when I was church-shopping I went to a Methodist church that completely turned me off. They used Powerpoint and an LCD projector to help people follow the service. In this church, though, the projector seemed essential. The liturgy was part English, part Coptic (which is itself part Greek), and part Arabic. All the words in all three languages were projected side by side.

I sat quietly, joining in a "Kyrie eleison" or two. I tried to sort out who was depicted in all the icons. Saint Mark was the first on the left - Mary and Saint George, of course, Christ, and then a few particular to the Coptic church. I could turn enough of the Coptic letters into Greek in my head to be able to sound out half of the names. Other than the icons, the rest of the decor was very Prodestant, down to the stained glass windows with decidedly non-Coptic names of benefactors.

If I closed my eyes, and I did, I could feel immersed in an ancient Christian tradition. Other than some updating of language the liturgy is just as it has always been. This was a decidedly non-European, non-Americanized, Middle Eastern feel. No pipe organ, but cymbals and triangle. No four-part harmony, but chanting from the roots of voice. This was the Christianity of Mark, coming from Palestine to Egypt. A Christianity that never had a Crusade, a Henry VIII, a Cotton Mather or a Jerry Fallwell.

Habib arrived about ten minutes after me. He was just in time for the Eucharist, which in Orthodox churches is a bit different from the Catholicism of my youth or Anglicanism of my now. The priest finally turned around to face the congregation, holding a basket of bread up for everyone to see - take joy! The sacrifice is here for us!

The men all lined up first, and then the women. I did not participate, being an outsider. Also I knew that it is Coptic tradition to fast before Eucharist, and I had had a good paleolithic breakfast. Since the Orthodox bread is leavened and made into loaves, they had to finish it. (the unleavened bread I'm used to can be stored intact. I never thought of that.) This meant that, among other things, the altar boys had to go round and round the altar taking more bread until it was gone. Then they had to wash all the serving plates, rinsing them with water and drinking the dross- you cannot just throw out the Body of Christ. Fortunately they got to do the same with the wine.

Afterwards, Habib invited me to come up and sit with him and his friends. I was introduced to them quickly, while the priest blessed us and sprinkled us with holy water. A baby had been baptized that morning: he was paraded through the church in a wicker basket, dressed identically to the priest down to the satin hat. A grandmotherly-looking woman in the procession ululated.

Then, the sermon. In Arabic, of which I understood two words: Allah, and if I head correctly, "aasif", which means "forgiveness". I only know the latter because I named a character Aasif in my book.

Finally, some time after noon, it was over. Habib's friends were excited that I was writing a book about Saint Mark, and they pointed out the icon to me. Then it was time to go downstairs for coffee. I got out my notebook.

Visiting the Copts - Part I

At the high point of my book, my Italian protagonists manage to bluff their way into St. Mark's Church in Alexandria, and make off with the saint's relics. (How? Well, I have to finish the book, and then you have to buy it.)

I'm a partial beleiver in "method" writing, and I'm part Italian - so last week, I bluffed my way into St. Mary and St. George's Coptic Orthodox Church in Albany... and made off with a delicious piece of cake! Ok, technically I was invited.

Here's how it went down: last Saturday I was shopping antiques in Troy with the family and our friend, whom we refer to as Lord Skeeter. We stopped for coffee. The cafe was filled with Egyptian art- pharaoh busts, hierloglyphics, that sort of thing. So I wondered to myself, as I watched a robust man with a bald head and a mustache make my cappuchino... is this guy a Copt?

Lord Skeeter knew exactly what I was thinking. He'd been in on the book almost since I started writing it. I picked up a takeout menu.

"He sells ham!" I said, excited. Lord Skeeter knew what it meant: the man was Egyptian, but not a Muslim.

"What are you talking about?" Emjay asked.

I looked behind the counter and saw an icon - Madonna and Child. "It's a lock!" I said, pointing to the icon.

"Oh, God, it's the book," Emjay realized.

We brought the cappuchinos outside. They were too cold. Skeeter and I went back in to ask for a warmup. The kids stayed outside with Emjay.

"So," I began innocently as he pumped live steam through my cup, "Would you happen to be from Alexandria?"

"Why, yes!"

"Oh, that's interesting. It happens I'm writing a book about how the Venetians stole St. Mark from the church there."

"Oh! You know about Saint Markos? Hey, I'm a Copt."

"Really? What a coincidence!"

I asked the man - his name is Habib - to tell me what he knew about the theft. What stories had he grown up with? How is it that the Coptic church let its first Pope, a Gospel writer, be taken away?

"I can't tell you anything about all that," Habib said, "I tell you what. You come to my church tomorrow. You meet our priest, he can tell you everything you want to know."

I came back outside with my warm cappuchino.

"Guess what?" I said.

"You didn't."

"Yep. Tell Reverend Mary I'm not coming to church tomorrow - I've gone Coptic."

Did I mention the book?

One reason I haven't been writing...is that I've been writing. About seven years ago I visited Venice and first heard the story of St. Mark's body coming to Venice from Alexandria in 827. I was amazed that the details of this audacious body-snatch were lost to history. I resolved to write a book of historical fiction, filling in all the details. Then my wife and I had two kids.

Two years ago I started research for the book. Last year I began writing in earnest. A few months ago I finished the first complete draft: 99,000 words. Since then I've been doing very detailed red-line edits... making notes for fact-checks and improving the text.

And that's why I haven't been writing- been doing loads and loads of edits the old way, with a pen, so my writing time has not been at a computer.