I rely on a lot of archaeological research in writing my books. I'll take something like the following bit of information about the Hohokam:
"[T]he command area group—that is, farmers along a distribution canal who must coordinate and cooperate to irrigate using the same canal . . . was the primary level of organization and one that dealt directly with farmers. It was the task group that worked cooperatively to construct, maintain, and repair the common distribution canal. Ethnographic case studies also suggest that a task group maintained the section of the main canal in its area and, in situations such as repairing a headgate, the group worked as a unit. This was also the level in which water was allocated to individual farmers and required labor contributions were tracked."
[Source: Archaeology Southwest ASW 21(4), "Hohokam Archaeology of the Phoenix Basin."]
Then I imagine how these task groups would actually work with real people, and I let various characters play in my head for a while until scenes and plots start to coalesce.
There were hundreds of miles of these canals in the Phoenix area long before the first Europeans stepped foot in the valley. Many of them were so well engineered that modern canals follow the same course.
... Archaeologists have found human tools dated to 20,000 years ago at a site northwest of Austin. This is one of the earliest artifacts in North America.
The Hohokam, Mimbres, and Ancestral Puebloans once occupied the present-day American Southwest. What happened to these three peoples, and should their fate serve as an object lesson for us today?
A few weeks ago, I had a marvelous experience: a photo shoot with a professional photographer, Kara Hudgens, with the assistance of makeup artist Wendy Warren. My resident IT guru is helping me build a new website. I'm doing everything I need to be a successful author ... except putting the finishing touches on Swallowing the Sun and getting it out to the general public.
A few years ago, I came across research analyzing the 13th century "grave of a young disabled woman afflicted with scoliosis, rickets and tuberculosis" in Tempe, Arizona. To survive to age twenty, the girl had likely needed special treatment while she was alive, and the assemblage of grave goods indicated that she received special treatment after her death as well.
I am always intrigued by distinctive burials. Indeed, one of the three details that inspired me to begin writing fiction about the Hohokam was a burial in which the torsos of two young men were placed, facing in opposite cardinal directions and with arms linked. Archaeologists can speculate about why those two men were buried in such a way: Why only their torsos? Why facing away from each other? Why were they arm-in-arm? Were they brothers, friends, enemies? How did they die? But as a writer of fiction, I can craft a reality in which this unique burial is the climax of a plot, explained by the characterization and narrative elements that lead up to it.
The Aztecs practiced human sacrifice on a large scale to ensure the continuation of their world. Early Spanish chroniclers wrote of thousands of skulls displayed on a rack, named the tzompantli, in front of the Templo Mayor in the Aztec capital. The existence of the tzompantli has been called into dispute over the past few decades, but recent excavations have yielded the remains of the skull rack and one of the towers of skulls that accompanied it.
"All premodern societies make some kind of offering," says Vera Tiesler, a bioarchaeologist at the Universidad Autónoma de Yucatán in Mérida, Mexico. "And in many societies, if not all, the most valuable sacrifice is human life."
The Hohokam that I write about appear to have restricted their offerings to food and drink and crafted goods, as well as activities such as dancing and singing. But they may, at various times in their history, have kept the bones of significant ancestors in the house or buried them under the floor to have those friendly spirits look after and protect the family.
Bones and blood can have great symbolic power. That makes them interesting to write about: what might certain burial practices have meant to the people who performed them?
Personal issues have kept me away from the blog and interfered with my writing for several months, but I'm back now. Look for more about archaeology, the Hohokam and O'odham, the desert of central Arizona, and my research and writing endeavors.
In an intriguing reconstruction project, restoration archaeologist Allen Denoyer has been experimenting with ancient technology, exploring how the Salado (a neighboring culture contemporaneous with the Hohokam) might have constructed their walls. Check out the "Hands-On Archaeology" article on adobe walls in Southwest Archaeology's Preservation Archaeology blog.
I love Jane Austen's writing and have read and reread her novels for many years. With no word processor to enable quick and easy changes, her books were so well crafted in the early drafts that she could simply write in small changes and pin substantial changes made on separate slips right onto the page.
The Hohokam built many things: great mounds, vast networks of canals, huge buildings, several different kinds of dwellings, work areas, and storage structures. One of the most interesting features that existed throughout Hohokam country is ballcourts. Although the ballgame fell out of favor before the time of my "Tales of the Watermasters" novels, not all of the ballcourts wound up being filled with trash or otherwise repurposed. I use one of the relic ballcourts as a setting for a scene in the first volume, Swallowing the Sun, which should be available for sale in a few months.
Archaeology Southwest has published a summary of what is known about the Hohokam ballcourt. The illustrator, Rob Ciaccio, has taken research and produced his vision of the Hohokam world, much as I have done for my novels.
I had my mother teach me to read when I was four, and I've never stopped. Now I can play with words all day long... it's the best job in the world.
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