Reaching a certain, nit-picking stage in editing the book, I realise I should be blogging around now, if not, six months ago. Well actually, three years ago. But, as I didn’t then, it has to be now.
To host a blog, you need a website and I didn’t have one. The decision to get one raises a lot of questions on its own. Where to host it? What to call it? I hedged my bets and bought my own name and my book’s name in domains. Chose a hosting company that looked cheap and straightforward.
Next question: the header pic. Obviously, this needs to fit with the book cover, but I haven’t chosen that, yet, as I’m still editing and nowhere near making those kinds of design choices. So, make them now.
But, I haven’t even thought about it.
How hard can it be? It’s History Maps, so just get an old map.
Yeah, but, copyright? Can I just use any old map?
Tried to download one. Oh my goodness, that’s complicated and expensive, with copyright threats aplenty. An hour of web searches tells me that map copyright lasts for 70 years, so I know I need a map from 1951 or earlier.
Then, I remembered the box of old maps my dad gave me, years ago.
Yes, I do sometimes feel like Zoe, the heroine of my History Maps series.
Quick flick through them. 1955… 1955… 1970… 1952… Close, but not quite close enough. And, finally, there it is. 1951. A few photos of that, I choose my favourite and I think I have my header, my book cover and my History Maps vibe. I choose the section of the map that features a Roman Road, because that gives a sense of the time phases covered by the History Maps project.
I’ve always loved old maps, though. Maps, in general, even before Google Maps and the wonderful Street View, which gave me the idea for the books. Those little symbols and abbreviations that all mean something. This is here. This was here. It’s unequivocal, it can’t be wrong. And it tells you so many stories.
Springs and wells are marked on all the old maps. Of course! People needed to know where to go for their water, in the days before indoor plumbing. So there’s an image in my mind of people maybe queuing for water, chatting at the pump. What news would they exchange? How would they carry the water home?
It seems utterly unfeasible, compared to the way we live now. It makes me wonder how they found time for anything else. Fetching water, washing clothes by hand (I bet that didn’t happen very often), cooking everything from scratch. On a real fire, that needed to be cleared out and lit every day, and maybe wood for it needed to be gathered and cut, and food to be harvested or even hunted for, depending on the location and the time period.
We tend to idolise the past, but given a time machine, I wouldn’t stay there. I would, however, love to travel through, exploring.
Hence, History Maps. The books are my indulgence, my day dream, my fantasy. I couldn’t bring the maps into being on my own, but I could write about a woman who could, and did.