Family lore has it that Great-Grandpa Pieter Vellekoop was one of the few remaining blacksmiths who could shrink an iron rim onto a wooden wagon wheel. I’m proud to have that heritage in my family tree. Sadly, such skills seem to have evaporated through subsequent generations—to the point that I can barely hammer a sixteen-penny nail into a two-by-four without smashing my thumb.
I'm nearly 12,000 words into a fantasy novel idea. When I began, I had no idea that I would need to know anything about the trade. But as my protagonist began to take shape, I discovered that he’s a blacksmith. Who knew?
The problem is that I know about as much about smithing as I do about knitting. As a storyteller, I will be expected to project the feel of the hammer on the glowing metal, the blast of the furnace, and so on and so forth.
Yes, we have been blessed with Wikipedia and Youtube—founts of all knowledge both old and new. Certainly, I can research the basics—perhaps even learn to handle the trade lingo with relative credibility. But theoretical research has its limits. It will suffice for the moment, as I finish fleshing out character and plot, but when the time comes for the re-write, I will need to go further than simple research.
One nice thing about the internet is its ability to find clusters of eccentrics who share similar interests. Apparently, there are blacksmith associations in this twenty-first century. Some of them even offer classes. Perhaps I’ll be able to spend time at a real forge before putting the finishing strokes (pause to appreciate the consistency of metaphor) on my story. Maybe I can resurrect some of Great-Grandpa Pieter’s skill, even if only enough to write about it.
