In the last couple months, I had resumed writing my novel-length The Letter From William Waiklin which revolves around William's mystical punishment involving a very special tree. I proceeded bravely even when it came to references to American Indian culture of the mid-to-late 19th century specific to the Ojibwe in Northern Minnesota.

The more I wrote, the more nervous I became. Words from a The Smiths song from the 80s haunted me: "'Cause there's someone somewhere with a big nose who knows who trips you up and laughs when you fall." In the song, Morrissey is relating how he had been tripped up "borrowing" lyrics from an early 19th century nobody writer. A busy-body bookworm found the nearly word-for-word reference and brought that fact to light. Morrissey, until this revelation, had garnered tremendous praise for his poetic turn of phrase so unlike his new-wave English contemporaries. Suddenly the genius' genius was under a bright spotlight. The authenticity of his authorship would be called into question from then on.

I wasn't skirting plagiarism, but I realized my facts would be scrutinized by untold big-noses who very well might know which of my references were unrealistic. I put off researching until I couldn't quiet that damned song any more: I can't write at my best with that sort of distraction bumping around in my head. Screw Morrissey.

Through my research on the internet, I found there was a brilliant woman who had lived among the Ojibwe people in just the right time in history and had created a number of reports for the Smithsonian. The largest of these reports had been published as a paperback and, to my astonishment, was still in print. I bought it and have been devouring it for a week or so.

Now, as I read about the Ojibwe culture, I shudder at some aspects of what I had planned to write. Before, I intentionally avoided specific details about food, clothing, housing, mannerisms, knowing nothing I simply invented coupled hold up, I now look forward to returning to the novel. Researching has given me more than knowledge of my subject, the value of which is immeasurable; it has given me peace of mind. When I sit down again, I will have a complete world, a real world, to draw upon. And even though the engine of my story, the nature of the tree's power an it's origin, it is deeply rooted (pun acknowledged) in fact.