My fictive blog Zelda Mary is turning out to be more of a muddle than I expected. It starts in the first decade of the twentieth century, with three little girls, as told by the eldest. By 1913, they have a new brother and their glamourous aunt has a new husband. In 1914, they are exposed to terrible sadness. Not to give away the plot, but the voice in this blog experienced more than her share of terrible sadness, not to mention three husbands, all of whom died.
There is a time line so bits and pieces can be dropped in. Is the term fictive blog sufficient? It isn't a novel or a dissertation, just a dotty story using old photos from a family album. Historical Fiction sounds as if one should be recreating Henry VII, who has been done to death.
The research is frustrating. History departments focus on flappers and jazz in the twenties and poverty in the thirties. I'm looking for rural life that includes peddling milk in a mill village, going on picnics and fa-so-la singing.
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