An Excerpt From My WIP!

7f0fd5177658b000d1ae168b63c1503aI’ve finished the crap draft rough draft of my historical fiction set in feudal Korea (the Joseon Dynasty, 1800). I haven’t felt so enchanted and so lost in a world for quite some time, as I’ve spent years working on Night Flower, which has come to feel more like an essay I really enjoy revising.

Also, because it’s been a while since I fell ‘head over heels’ in love with a story since Night Flower, at first I was worried this story wouldn’t work out like the two other novels I attempted to write (the first one I finished drafting but didn’t like. The second one I couldn’t get past the outlining stage). But with this WIP, my gut is telling me that I’ve found The Story. The positive signs:

  1. I finished the draft and still feel good about it.
  2. I am in love with the history. And this is so crucial for me. Research is what inspires much of my plot and character development.
  3. I wake up in the middle of the night with new plot ideas.
  4. I have an ending for this story that I like.
  5. I have a thesis theme for this story that I want to further explore.
  6. I can’t stop talking about this story.

Now that I have the bare, bare bones of the story set in place, it’s time to return to the first chapter and actually make this story readable. The challenges I’ve faced so far while writing this (and will continue to face) is the lack of resources. I mean, there’s tons of great books on Joseon Korea at my university libraries. But it’s not much compared to the massive resource available if I were to write another novel set in England. Also, certain materials I need for my novel (i.e. primary sources) have yet to be translated into English, so a good deal of my time is spent translating the Korean into English. It’s laborious, but it’s paying off.

I’m just having so much fun with this story.

Anyway, I wanted to share an excerpt from chapter one. But before I do, here’s a brief summary of the story (which, if you follow me on facebook, you’ve already read):

Seol, a seventeen-year-old slave girl in 19th century Korea, must assist Inspector Han when a Catholic woman is found dead with a strange symbol carved into her face. Together, they traverse from mud-covered alleys to exquisite mansions in search of a brutal killer.


Chapter One

The dirt road outside the Eastern Palace usually clamored with life: women crowding the fish stalls, farmers carrying their produce, scholars with their silk robes, monks and traveling merchants. And there would always be a mob of children, faces burnt and glistening in the sticky heat, chasing after their rivals. But for the past few days the capital lay still under the heavy pall of silence, the entire kingdom mourning the king’s death.

“Feels like a ghost village…” My voice resounded, then silence returned, intensified by the rain pitter-pattering against black tiled roofs. I lowered the satgat over my face, a straw hat pointed at the top and wide at the brims, allowing the rain to dribble off. “What a strange and eerie day.”

“And the days will become stranger yet,” Officer Sunwou said. “They say that when King Chŏngjo died, an astonishing phenomena occurred.”

“What happened?”

“The rays of sunlight collided and burst into sparks, like fireworks. Then there came a terrible noise of weeping from Mount Samgak. It was a bad omen.” He eyed our grey surrounding as he adjusted his sash belt, worn around his black robe. “The old order has passed, and the new will come with a river of blood. From what I hear,” his voice lowered into a whisper, “the king was assassinated.”

I quickened my step to walk alongside him. “Assassinated?”

“By fatal poisoning.”

“Not from an illness?”

“Perhaps from an illness. But others say Sim Hwanji poisoned the king.”

“Who’s that?”

A sharp laugh escaped him. “You don’t know? How can you not!” He peered down at me, arching a thick and youthful brow. “Everyone knows. He’s the prime minister, the leader of the Old Doctrine’s Principle Faction.”

Old Doctrine, Principle. There were four major factional groupings, usually referred to as the four colors, but after the murder of the Crown Prince Sado in 1762, the established party lines had further split into sub-factions. Biting my lower lip, I frowned then offered a guess. “They’re the King’s rival faction, aren’t they?”

He snorted but remained silent, so I assumed that I was right. “Why would they poison the king. If the rumor is true, that is. What does the prime minister want?”

“Such a child you are. What’s the one thing everyone in the palace wants? To stabilize their shaky power.” He clucked his tongue and waved me away. “What use is it for a slave to know such things? And I’ve told you many times, a woman shouldn’t talk so much.”

Obediently, I retreated and followed in his shadow. He was right, of course. Among the seven sins a woman could commit, one was talking excessively. A man could even divorce his wife because of her chattiness.

I blamed my brother for this sin of mine, this longing to understand the world, to collect as much information as I could from the learned. For here in the capital, the scholars were not generous like Older Brother; no, they were self-willed, their knowledge like stubborn fishes, which when you seek to catch, will strike back at you.

“You there.”

I looked ahead. Investigator Han stood in the near distance, watching me from beneath the wide brim of his hat, the string of beads that strapped his chin trembling in the gust of rain. Behind him were two officers, the coroner’s assistant, and the clerks. The police artist was busily sketching something. As I hurried towards the Inspector, two officers spoke somewhere behind me:

“Found by a watchman.”


“He was patrolling the West Gate, and at the end of his watch, there she was.”

I gathered my hands before me and bowed to Inspector Han, deeper than was necessary. He was to me the great spotted leopard from my village: the speedy and well-muscled hunter who excelled at climbing and jumping, and in slipping silently through the grass with scarcely a ripple.

“You called for me, nauri,” I said, addressing him by his honorific.

“Have a look at her.”

He was gesturing at a lump a few paces away. I walked towards the shadow of the weather-beaten fortress wall that enclosed Hanyang, the capital of Joseon, then clenched my teeth as my stomach turned to water. It was a woman. She lay sprawled, her face on the ground. A noblewoman by her dress and jacket, made of a closely-woven ramie cloth, beautifully patterned.

“Flip her around,” the Inspector ordered. “We have yet to see her wound.”

I stepped over the corpse, crouched, and grabbed her shoulder. This was why the Capital Police Bureau kept female slaves like me: I was an extension of police-officers, my hands used by them to arrest female criminals and to examine female victims. An inconvenience, but gentlemen were forbidden from touching women who were not directly related to them. It was the law, Confucius’ law.

[To be continued…]


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New Period Films 2015


Once upon a time, I didn’t really “get” the women’s suffrage movement until my history professor from years ago shared a quote by a militant Suffragette:

“Our hearts burn within us when we read the great mottoes which celebrate the liberty of your country; when we go to France and we read the words, liberty, fraternity, and equality, don’t you think that we appreciate the meaning of those words? And when we wake to the knowledge that these things are not for us, they are only for our brothers, then there comes a sense of bitterness into the hearts of some women, and they say to themselves, “Will men never understand?” – Emmeline Pankhurst (1858-1928)

I love it when the things I studied at university come to life on screen.

The foot soldiers of the early feminist movement, women who were forced underground to pursue a dangerous game of cat and mouse with an increasingly brutal State.

During World War I, a young English woman named Vera Brittain, postpones her studies at Oxford University to serve as a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse in London and abroad. After the war she returns to Oxford to read history and later becomes a writer, feminist and pacifist.
 . .
ooooh…just my cup o’ tea!
WQS1_facebookConcept5 .


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Period Drama Soundtrack: Far from the Madding Crowd

I’m currently playing this album on repeat while writing




More Period Drama Soundtracks

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Confession of a Serial Book Dater: Renée Rosen’s WHAT THE LADY WANTS

My goal is to read 30 books by the end of 2015 (rather than reading the first chapter of each before tossing ’em aside, which has become a bad reading habit of mine).

20893377With this in mind, I picked up Renée Rosen’s WHAT THE LADY WANTS.

(3* books down, 27 more to go)
*I didn’t review the 2nd book. It was Dani Shapiro’s STILL WRITING. It’s a book every writing should read.

Summary: In late-nineteenth-century Chicago, visionary retail tycoon Marshall Field made his fortune wooing women customers with his famous motto: “Give the lady what she wants.” His legendary charm also won the heart of socialite Delia Spencer and led to an infamous love affair.

What I disliked: The novel had a soap opera touch to it: adultery (check), hysterics galore (check), a bitchslap (check), bitchpushes (check), and by the end, because of the rushed pacing, it felt like the story went on a killing spree (check), with characters dropping dead in almost every chapter.

What I liked: I was expecting a historical fiction about Chicago and Marshall Field, but instead I got a swoon-worthy romance between Marshall Field and Delia Spenceer Caton (both historical figures). I enjoyed their blossoming relationship. **SPOILER ALERT!** What initially annoyed me was the plot twist used to justify Delia and Marshall’s affair: her husband ‘conveniently’ turns out to be homosexual and his wife ‘just happens’ to be a psychologically unstable laudanum addict with an “evil streak.” It felt very contrived, especially considering that there isn’t much historical fact backing this plot twist. However, after a few pages, the author managed to smooth out my ruffle feathers. And throughout the book, despite the soap opera, I can say for certain that Rosen is a great storyteller who weaves her words beautifully.

Favorite Passage: “Delia stood back in amazement. She’d never felt so important. This was a man who was respected by all for his tastes and here he had followed her choice. She realized she’d never really been taken serious—listened to—and by a man she respected to this extent. A burst of confidence awakened inside her. She held her shoulders back, standing proud. It was as if Marshal had shone a light on her, allowing her to see her true self.”

I recommend this book if you:

  • want to be swept into the world of glamor, scandal, and shopping.
  • love Rhett Butler, because Marshall Field (in the book) reminded me of him.
  • are going through The Paradise/Mr Selfridge withdrawal.
  • interested in the history of Chicago.

I mildly enjoyed this book, and now I’m leaving it for Joyce Maynard’s AFTER HER or I might try to finish Winston Graham’s POLDARK (I got halfway through then stopped after watching the BBC adaption Ergggg). Hopefully I’ll be able to commit to one, unlike the 3 other books I dropped before picking up Rosen’s What the Lady Wants.


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POLDARK (Episode One): My First Impression


Summary: In late 18th-century, Ross Poldark returns to his Cornish tin mines after spending three years in the army to avoid charges of smuggling, leaving behind his sweetheart Elizabeth. On his return, having fought in the American War of Independence, he finds his father dead, his estate in ruins and Elizabeth engaged to his cousin Francis. In need of help he takes on a new kitchen maid, Demelza, after rescuing her from a beating bringing him into conflict with hostile locals.

Episode 1 Recap:

Screenshot - 2015-03-24 , 3_33_28 PMThe episode opens with Ross Poldark fighting a losing battle in the American Revolution. When the war ends, he returns to Cornwall, England, with a scar on his face and a wounded leg.


Screenshot - 2015-03-24 , 11_13_03 PMDuring the journey home, he pretends to be asleep while he listens to the whispers among people who have recognized him. Ross learns that his father–the libertine–is dead, and that he has inherited the ancient Poldark land. Continue reading


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