Not long after I first started posting TIME OUT OF MIND, and readers saw the rather unusual way I’d chosen to structure it, I began to receive e-mails every so often in which people wanted to know how I’d managed to come up with such a complex format.  They asked if I’d outlined the structure of the story ahead of time; or if I’d written all the journal entries separately, and then wrote the narrative;  as well as other similar questions.  In some cases people just assumed that I was writing the book with an elaborate plan in mind, and they very generously complimented my inventiveness.  At first I was stunned, and then tremendously flattered, that some readers believed there was such a complicated process at work; and quite frankly, nothing would have pleased me more than to confirm their assumptions, and pass myself off as some sort of literary “genius.”  But the unremarkable reality, I’m constrained to admit, is that nothing could have been further from the truth.

     In actual fact, I had no plan—beyond a very hazy idea of writing a story about Sully suffering from amnesia and having to “fall in love” with Michaela all over again.  That’s all there was to it, in the beginning.  The device of Sully telling part of the story in the form of a journal literally came to me when I sat down at the keyboard that first day.  I can’t even recall exactly how the idea came into my mind—or even if it truly formed in my mind at all.  I just started typing, and that’s what came out.  I certainly had no way of knowing ahead of time if the juxtaposition of journal and narrative would work out logically, or make sense—since I wrote them in a linear fashion and not separately.  And there were many times, in fact, when I came close to confusing myself by presenting both Sully’s and Michaela’s versions of the same scenes—and many more times when I found myself seriously worrying that I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

     Going back to how I started, however:  After I’d written the first couple of pages or so, the structure of the story did begin to take shape in my mind somewhat.  It occurred to me that it might be interesting to “drop” the reader into the middle of the action, and then use the flashback of conventional narrative to explain what had brought Sully to the point at which the story opened.  Hardly a new idea, but it was one which I’d never seen utilized in the other fan fiction I’d personally read.  Of course the plot device of amnesia was also hardly original, but I hoped that I might be able to make it interesting.   I also realized very quickly that narrative story-telling, in addition to the journal entries, would be necessary to expand the story beyond the limits of Sully’s experience and observations, as well as to serve the very important function of providing Michaela’s perspective on the events.

     So, armed with these prerequisites, I proceeded.  Once I established the timeframe of Sully’s amnesia (clearly it had to precede Michaela’s arrival in Colorado Springs, and then cover the balance of their relationship together; thus I settled on three years, which encompassed the massacre at the Washita), it struck me that this would be a golden opportunity to explore one of the plot points many of us felt had been neglected in the series:  that of Sully’s reaction to the death of the Cheyenne.  And once I decided to incorporate the element of Sully’s emotional turmoil, I realized I had my “hook.”  A  physical injury at the hands of an assailant might instigate Sully’s amnesia, but that would be only the tip of the iceberg.  The real root of his memory block would prove to be his grief over Washita, in addition to unresolved feelings of grief and guilt he had about Abigail—typified by his irrational and previously subconscious fear that if he married Michaela, he would lose her as well.

    This last idea actually sprang from  personal experience:  before the births of our two children, my husband and I had lost a child, and for a long time afterwards I was plagued with an irrational fear that something might also happen to my husband.  Even more frightening to me was the prospect of having another baby, for fear that history would repeat itself.  I’m profoundly glad and grateful to say that neither of these scenarios came to pass—and that once we were blessed with a very healthy son and daughter, I was able to put much of my pain and dread to rest.  However I reasoned that if something like this had happened to me, it could just as easily happen to Sully.  And his experience in “One Touch of Nature” certainly bore out my hypothesis.  (And while I’m on the subject I should briefly note here, that though I may have felt the writers dropped the ball in “Sully’s Recovery;” I believe—based on my personal experience—that they gave us an extremely sensitive and realistic treatment of the issue of parental grief in OTON, fully realized in Joe’s poignant portrayal.  Thus this episode has always touched me deeply.)
 
     But returning to the theme of my story:  I also wanted to give Cloud Dancing a prominent and heroic role in this drama, so I decided that he should be involved when Sully sustained the injury that precipitated his amnesia.  And with Washita being a key motivation in the plot, I needed to tie Custer into it as well, though I determined that he would be more peripheral—at least at the beginning.  Which left me with the problem of who would fulfill the role of Sully’s assailant.  At about the time I was wrestling with this question, I happened to see an episode about Custer on the History Channel’s “The Real West,” and that’s when I first heard the name of “Bloody Knife.”

     For the benefit of those readers who—like me—were unfamiliar with this figure before TOOM, Bloody Knife was most definitely real, and was indeed characterized by Custer as his “favorite scout.”  From the moment I learned of him I was intrigued, since he seemed to have such a compelling, “love-hate” relationship with the army officer.  In many ways, Bloody Knife was exactly as I presented him in the story:  Arikara on his mother’s side and Hunkpapa Sioux on his father’s.  He had lived with the Sioux in childhood but was taken away by his mother as a teenager when she returned to her own people.  This physical separation from the Sioux, as well as the mutual animosity between the Sioux and the Arikara, had the effect of alienating him from both tribes in adulthood.   He was known as a strong warrior; and this reputation made him very desirable as a scout to the army.  On Bloody Knife’s part, he was drawn to the army by his realization that he could utilize his talents as a tracker and fighter; have the freedom to travel the plains untouched; and perhaps find the acceptance that had eluded him among his own people.  I admit that I’ve painted him as much “darker” than he probably was in real life, since I needed a “villain” who was, for all intents and purposes, unredeemable.  But he was described in historical accounts as being extremely mercurial, as well as a heavy drinker—a potentially lethal combination.

     Bloody Knife’s relationship with Custer also provided rich fodder for fiction.  From the beginnings of their association, he was almost slavishly devoted to the general, looking upon Custer as a great warrior with fighting skills equal to his own, but also regarding him as a kind of mentor—perhaps even a father figure.  Custer’s feelings about Bloody Knife were a different story, however.  He certainly admired Bloody’s Knife’s prowess as a warrior, and he was “fond” of the scout, enjoying his company.  But it was more the way one would be fond of a favorite pet.  And just as a violent man might kick a dog that angered him, Custer was not above turning on Bloody Knife at the least provocation; graphically illustrated by an incident in which Bloody Knife committed an error in following one of Custer’s orders, and without blinking an eye, Custer pulled his gun and shot him.  Fortunately the wound wasn’t serious, and Custer had the grace to express regret after the fact.  Still, Bloody Knife would have had every right to to be angry at Custer, or at least resent him.  Yet amazingly he forgave the general, and a mere hour later they were behaving as if the incident had never happened.

     I must also confess to “playing with time” a bit in terms of the period when Bloody Knife and Custer were associated with one another, since they actually didn’t come together till approximately 1873.  However I thought I could be forgiven this touch of poetic license for dramatic purposes, since I had the precedent of the series “altering” the time period during which both the Sand Creek and Washita massacres occurred (if DQ had remained absolutely faithful to history, Michaela would have known Black Kettle for only a year, at best, before his death at Washita).

     As to why Bloody Knife didn’t meet his end at Sully’s hands—well, the chief reason is obvious:  since he was a genuine historical figure, I dared not alter the true circumstances of his death.  I had to let him “escape,” so to speak, so that he would still be alive in 1876, when he perished with Custer at the Little Big Horn.  His actual death was quite gruesome and the stuff of legend:  a Sioux bullet took him in the head, splattering bits of his skull and brains all over the face of one of Custer’s fellow officers, General Reno.

     Even if actual history hadn’t been a consideration however, I still wouldn’t have chosen to have Sully murder him, feeling that such a scenario would have done a serious disservice to Sully’s character.  Though Sully came close to exacting revenge on his enemies on at least three different occasions, he was never guilty of deliberately taking a life.  He resisted his impulse to kill Rankin in “Running Ghost;” and though both One-Eye and O’Conner met their deaths in confrontations with Sully, they both died as a result of falls from a cliff.  The one occasion when Sully did purposely commit murder, he was tricked into doing so by unscrupulous men, and as an army lieutenant, his actions could also be justified by virtue of him being a member of the army during a state of war.  Of course we all know from “A Washington Affair” the extremity of guilt and remorse Sully suffered as a result of his actions—so much so that he was driven to desert from the army and return to Colorado.

     Some readers also may wonder why I chose to let the “bad guys” win, in a sense, rather than finding some way to make both Bloody Knife and Custer pay for their persecution of Sully, Michaela and Cloud Dancing.  Once again, to some extent, historical considerations played a role in my decision; however my chief reasons were more complex.  The first of these reasons had to do with my motivation to be as faithful to the series as possible.  I loved the episode “For Better, For Worse” just as it was, and had no desire to tamper with it any way.  This meant that I had to fashion the events in my story to blend in as seamlessly with this episode as possible.  Hence my having Custer offer to cover up any evidence of the events at Red Rock, but only with the proviso that Sully and the others “never speak of these events again.”  This same reason was behind Custer’s equivocation about continuing to pursue Cloud Dancing; as well as Sully’s remark to Michaela on the train that Custer had only lived up to their agreement insofar as not speaking of what happened at Red Rock, when he held Sully in custody the night of the rehearsal dinner.  My blending of fiction (mine) and DQ fact (in FBFW) wasn’t quite “perfect”—but it was as close as I could manage, while still presenting a realistic scenario.

     My second reason had to do with presenting a more emotionally complex story.  Bloody Knife and Custer getting their “just desserts,” so to speak, would have been dramatically satisfying, no doubt—but I didn’t want to just settle for the “quick fix” or blandly “happy ending.”  The ongoing conflicts of the period between the Indians and the army had no easy resolutions—and in fact often turned out very tragically, as the bitter legacies of both Sand Creek and Washita can attest—thus I didn’t feel that the resolution of Sully’s conflict with these two opponents should have an easy outcome.  And with Sully’s history of frustration and often helplessness in regard to his attempts to aid the Indians, I felt an exploration of his inner torment in the aftermath of his “alliance” with Custer would be much more emotionally compelling.  Structuring the events in this way also opened the door for Cloud Dancing’s prediction to Sully that the “evil” that Bloody Knife and Custer did would “come back to them,” and that they were “not long for this world”—and would ultimately pay the price for their deeds.

     Speaking of Cloud Dancing, I hope I wasn’t guilty of “tarnishing” his image in anyone’s eyes, with his admission to Sully that he would have saved Snowbird even before the rest of his people, had he been forced to make such a choice.  I realize that here I was assigning entirely my own interpretation to his inner feelings and motivations.  However, I felt that even though he had always been presented to us as a deeply spiritual and honorable character, he was also a man—as beset by human frailty as anyone else.  We had certainly witnessed examples of his anger (and even his willingness to cover up the crimes of the dog soldiers) on many occasions; such as in “The Incident,” “The Offering,” “The Abduction,” “Indian Agent,” and most certainly, “Washita.”  Therefore I felt a precedent had been set; and I didn’t think it would be so very amiss to have him confess that his love for his wife would have superceded even his love for his people.  Believe me when I say that I have always loved and revered Cloud Dancing—he’s always been one of my favorite characters.  But I think part of why I loved and admired him so much was because he wasn’t perfect, but also very human as well.  I believe that it was his constant striving for spiritual perfection that made him compelling and sympathetic—not that he had achieved such perfection, thereby making him in a sense, “untouchable.”

     Turning to my rationale behind the actions, motivations and introduction of other characters, I’ll start with Elizabeth Quinn.  My decision to have her leave Colorado Springs before Michaela’s return might have surprised some of you, and may in fact have struck you as being out of character for her.  I apologize for this impression, if it exists; but my removal of her from the action essentially arose out of necessity, as well as my afore-mentioned desire to integrate the events in my story with those of “FBFW.”  Simply put, I had to send her home, so that she could return later on the train with Rebecca and Marjorie for Michaela’s and Sully’s wedding.  Somewhat unfortunately, at the outset of the story, I had set myself a rather limited time-frame for the plot to play out; but once the time sequence was established, I was locked into it, and had to work within it as best I could.  This meant pushing the boundaries, in some respects, such as in the length of time in took for Sully and the others to go in search of Michaela, as well as—in Elizabeth’s case—the amount of time it took for her to return to Boston and then get back to Colorado Springs in time for the wedding.  While the time involved for these events to take place may not have always seemed realistic, I hope I can be forgiven for occasionally falling back on the amazing “elasticity” of “Quinn-time.”

     My creation and introduction of the character of Brendan Burke had a two-pronged goal:  First, I admit to surrendering to the temptation to throw a bit of a “wrench” into Sully’s and Michaela’s relationship for dramatic and entertainment purposes.  And I felt that making him William’s brother would even further complicate this “triangle.”  But I never meant for his rivalry with Sully to be anything but temporary; and it was always my intention that he would ultimately play a vital role in the pursuit and rescue of Michaela—thus “redeeming” him in Sully’s eyes.

     As far as my portrayal of other familiar characters, most notably Hank—I can only hope that my “version” of him was as realistic and faithful as possible.  I’ve always loved him, and strongly admired and appreciated the unique and irreplaceable zest he brings to the life of Colorado Springs.  Further, I wanted to give him a special presence in the story, and allow him to demonstrate the latent qualities of heroism I’ve always believed him to possess.

     Of course, more than anything else, I hope that my portrayal of Sully and Michaela was both honest and true to their heart and spirit. I wrote them as I’ve always perceived them (though I confess to injecting qualities of my own husband—my own “Sully”—into Sully’s character from time to time).  But I always tried, to the best of my ability, to be entirely faithful to the characters which we love so much.

     A couple of concluding notes:  My decision to send Michaela, Sully and the others to Red Rock Canyon near Las Vegas, Nevada was a choice I made to please myself.  It’s an astonishingly beautiful place, and I felt that my description of the landscape would be much more realistic and ring far truer, if I could speak from personal observation.  It was also a way to challenge myself and expand the scope of the book, by taking the characters so far afield.

     And with respect to the historical events and characters (real and fictional) that I incorporated into the novel:  this arose out my fervent desire to write a story superior to CAMEO, both in turns of complexity, and as a realistic portrayal of the life and times of 1870s Colorado.  Thus I did a tremendous amount of research—seeking information from the Internet about Bloody Knife, William Jackson, Sand Creek, Washita, and the battle of the Little Big Horn; as well as acquiring and consulting books on archaeology, Custer, and Ferdinand V. Hayden.  Additionally I drew from some wonderful materials I obtained from the Visitor’s Center in Red Rock Canyon.  I hope that my efforts bore fruit, and that I did all these excellent resources justice.  Certainly, I expanded my own knowledge in a variety of areas and consider myself richer for it.

     And now, at the risk of writing yet another “book,” I’ll bring this to a close.  But not before I express my profound thanks and appreciation to so many people who inspired and supported me.

     First and foremost, my ardent thanks, admiration and respect must go to Beth Sullivan, whose vision created this incredible show and its unforgettable characters.  Without Beth to bring them all to the screen, and the remarkable talents of Jane Seymour, Joe Lando and an outstanding ensemble cast and crew to imbue them with life, there would be no show, no book—and certainly, no List with whom to share it.  Thus I further owe my deepest appreciation and gratitude to all those on the List—as well as others—who have made such a difference in my life, and enriched it beyond meaure; including, particularly:

    Mary Ann Marino, my closest friend, who was the first to read the early chapters of TOOM and whose enthusiasm and encouragement gave me the courage to share it with the List; Pam Hunter, whose friendship I’ll always cherish and whose insights on writing which she shared with me in LA I’ll always remember; Jane Winter, my loyal and “Constant Reader;” my friends of  “Homestead East” who honored me with their request that I share with them the “bedtime story” of TOOM; friends I made from around the world through the posting of this story, like Chiara in Italy and Anna in Moscow, who sent me generous, thoughtful and often movingly poetic comments about my work; fellow fan fiction writers, like Gypsy, Debby, Rebecca, Scout, and Pam Hunter, of course—not to mention many others—whose talents entertained me and constantly inspired me to be better; my “hero” Stephen King, whose genius I could never hope to emulate, but whose remarkable gift for story-telling has inspired me and enhanced my life for 22 years; and last—but NEVER least—my beloved husband Rick, whose constant love, support and belief in me keeps me going, and whose opinion I value and cherish above all else.  Every woman should be so lucky.

     To slightly paraphrase Mr. Watkins in “Portraits:”  I am indebted to you all.

                                                                                                        With love and gratitude,

                                                                                                              Carolyn Williams