Sarah Alma Chrisman (née Christman)
(Photo courtesy of Sue Lean)
About Me
All work at Aegis & Owl (writing, editing, design, bookbinding, sewing, millinery, web-site maintainance, marketing -everything!) is done by one woman, Sarah Alma Chrisman. That's me in the picture, wearing one of the antique hats that inspired my millinery work.
I was born in Renton, Washington, just south of Seattle. When I was eighteen I moved to Olympia to attend The Evergreen State College, then transferred to the University of Washington (in Seattle) a year later. At the UW, I studied International Studies, and French; earning two degrees in just four years -one at Evergreen, three at the UW. (As part of my studies, I also lived abroad for a summer in Angers, France, studying at L'Université Catholique de l'Ouest in the Loire Valley. It was a charming town close to Nantes, the birthplace of Jules Verne.) After graduating in 2002, I married Gabriel Chrisman, changing my maiden name of Christman by a whopping one whole letter! (The folks at City Hall didn't like that at all.)
I was born in Renton, Washington, just south of Seattle. When I was eighteen I moved to Olympia to attend The Evergreen State College, then transferred to the University of Washington (in Seattle) a year later. At the UW, I studied International Studies, and French; earning two degrees in just four years -one at Evergreen, three at the UW. (As part of my studies, I also lived abroad for a summer in Angers, France, studying at L'Université Catholique de l'Ouest in the Loire Valley. It was a charming town close to Nantes, the birthplace of Jules Verne.) After graduating in 2002, I married Gabriel Chrisman, changing my maiden name of Christman by a whopping one whole letter! (The folks at City Hall didn't like that at all.)
I wrote A Dream On Two Wheels over the course of six months in 2004. I had never had a driver's license (still haven't), and one day I started pondering the question of what a world would look like wherein no one had a car. The automobile is such a mainstay in the American landcape and imagination -but the fact of the matter is that its invention was roughly contemporaneous with that of the bicycle. At first the bike was more popular -the only reason the car was able to gain access to the country at all was that dedicated bicycling groups put in a great deal of effort to get roads paved and upkept. (For anyone who'd like to learn more about the bicycle's history, I highly recommend the book, Bicycle, by David v. Herlihy: Yale University Press, 2004. ISBN: 0-300-10418-9 Pay special attention to page 5 of the introduction.)
One day as I was out riding, something occurred which is all too common in the life of cyclists: I was forced off the road and into a ditch by a car which was going -ahem- shall we say, somewhat faster than the posted speed limit? Rather dusty but otherwise none the worse for wear, I continued on my way to work, contemplating what a metaphor this commonplace occurence was for the history of these two methods of transportation: Cars (as an institution) had pushed bicycles off the roads as soon as they'd worked to pave them, and they'd been doing it ever since. (Please note that, because there are children's books on this site, I have thoughtfully deleted the numerous expletives which accompanied this thought-process as I exited the ditch.)
One day as I was out riding, something occurred which is all too common in the life of cyclists: I was forced off the road and into a ditch by a car which was going -ahem- shall we say, somewhat faster than the posted speed limit? Rather dusty but otherwise none the worse for wear, I continued on my way to work, contemplating what a metaphor this commonplace occurence was for the history of these two methods of transportation: Cars (as an institution) had pushed bicycles off the roads as soon as they'd worked to pave them, and they'd been doing it ever since. (Please note that, because there are children's books on this site, I have thoughtfully deleted the numerous expletives which accompanied this thought-process as I exited the ditch.)
One of my favorite questions for debate and contemplation is the widely-inspiring, "What if?" So, I asked myself, "What if the car had been pushed aside instead? How would the world be different?"
I suppose ambulances and emergency workers were still towards the forefront of my mind after the death of my grandmother less than a year previously (She was really a second mother to me; I grew up in her house.) One of the things which I realized would be quite different in a world without cars was that it would make far more sense for doctors to go to ill people, rather than the other way 'round. It's hard for a really sick person to ride a bike, so it made sense for doctors to keep making house calls. Drawing this idea to its ultimate conclusion led me to the concept of the roundsdocs: that an average doctor who made housecalls (on his or her bike, remember) would develop the physique of a professional athlete, along with an heroic status as hero and rescuer. In short, the population of the D2W world basically view their roundsdocs the way that folks in our world view firefighters.
The stretcher-pullers were a logical extension of this idea of the medical world: sometimes, a person really does need to be taken to the hospital. Having once pulled a 22-foot Christmas tree ten miles behind the back of a tandem, I knew that it's possible to transport virtually anything on a bike trailer -supine people didn't really seem that big of a stretch (pardon the pun) of the imagination. But what sort of individuals would be pulling those trailers? Well, they'd need some medical training, for a start: roughly equivalent to a Registered Nurse. Besides that, though, they'd have to be strong -really strong- to pull that sort of weight consistently and smoothly. Mentally, they'd be a bit more down to earth and veering towards the base utilitarian than the roundsdocs, since so much of their job revolved around the nitty-gritty, unglamorous physical side of things. To use a military metaphor, if the roundsdocs are the officers of the medical world, these guys are the grunts.
After they've read the book, I always ask readers who their favorite D2W character is. There is a satisfying variety to the answers, but the most common one (so far) is the impish gardener who doesn't have a link to the medical world at all, aside from amorous intentions and the fact that her roommate keeps dragging her further into intrigue with them. At first, I wasn't sure where Shona had come from. I was just writing a scene one day, and somehow I knew that as Emma went to class there was a girl hacking at the bushes outside with a machete and swearing up a storm. I could see her with perfect clarity in my mind, and I just knew she had to be there. She was the one character who wrote herself; I'd agonize for hours over the precise wording of scenes seen from Emma's perspective, or Mike's, but Shona was always blunt as a butter-knife and made no bones about anything. If I'd tried to write her differently, she wouldn't have let me. There have been times when I've quite envied her ability to say things the rest of us only dare to think -and always get away with it. It wasn't until long afterwards, when the book had been finished for some time, that I finally realized she was a consolidation of every best friend I'd ever had, with special emphasis on a couple especially dear ones.
At first, I didn't intend a sequel. My friends wanted one, wanted to know what happened next, but I figured I'd given the characters their "happily ever after", and didn't see any more to tell. Then that pesky "What if?" came back. I remember the exact moment it occurred to me: I was walking my bike along a rough dirt road that led to my old house, and on my right was a fence covered in vines laden with wine-grapes, like those I'd seen in France. Suddenly, the realization struck me: France was invaded twice by Germany in the twentieth-century. My old European Studies thesis advisor used to be fond of saying that with the European Union, Germany had finally achieved through economic means the hegemony they had failed through two world wars. But the birth of the E.U. was in a group of coal and oil treaties that were signed during a fossil fuel crisis. What if the E.U. never formed -and, in the world I'd created, it wouldn't have? That opened up a whole new arena of possibilities, all of them darker than anything I'd ever intended to put my characters through when I first envisioned them.
Tides of the Island Mountain took nearly five years to write -a far cry from the six months of its predecessor. In the end though, it was worth it. Many of the facts come from actual experience: I know how the air feels in the Catacombs because I've been there, shivering with a cold that had nothing to do with temperature or ailment. I know that Emma had to go up twenty-one, then eighteen, then eight steps to reach the Mona Lisa because I counted them myself in the Louvre. I paced off the length and breadth of the French Paintings gallery, though those figures didn't make it into the book (72 and 14, by the way -if you're interested.) I profoundly annoyed a Dutch tourist in the Gallerie D'Apollon, crowding the jewel case with my laptop and taking detailed notes on the smallest elements. The scene where Mike spends the night in a Norman field draws an an earlier personal experience, from my college days. (Although in my case, I was sleeping in a field for far less sinister reasons than those which led Mike there: I simply lacked funds for a hotel room when I went to see Monet's Giverny. Still, it was a long night.) I cringed at destroying the Mont Saint Michel in Emma's world because I do love the real one so very much; I think I've been through every nook and cranny of the old monastery. Some metaphors, though, are too profound to let slip away.
I fear that if I continue in this vein, I shall reveal too much from my stories -perhaps I have already. If you feel that I have, please accept my apologies, as it was really only my intention to whet your appetite a bit. Happy reading!
I suppose ambulances and emergency workers were still towards the forefront of my mind after the death of my grandmother less than a year previously (She was really a second mother to me; I grew up in her house.) One of the things which I realized would be quite different in a world without cars was that it would make far more sense for doctors to go to ill people, rather than the other way 'round. It's hard for a really sick person to ride a bike, so it made sense for doctors to keep making house calls. Drawing this idea to its ultimate conclusion led me to the concept of the roundsdocs: that an average doctor who made housecalls (on his or her bike, remember) would develop the physique of a professional athlete, along with an heroic status as hero and rescuer. In short, the population of the D2W world basically view their roundsdocs the way that folks in our world view firefighters.
The stretcher-pullers were a logical extension of this idea of the medical world: sometimes, a person really does need to be taken to the hospital. Having once pulled a 22-foot Christmas tree ten miles behind the back of a tandem, I knew that it's possible to transport virtually anything on a bike trailer -supine people didn't really seem that big of a stretch (pardon the pun) of the imagination. But what sort of individuals would be pulling those trailers? Well, they'd need some medical training, for a start: roughly equivalent to a Registered Nurse. Besides that, though, they'd have to be strong -really strong- to pull that sort of weight consistently and smoothly. Mentally, they'd be a bit more down to earth and veering towards the base utilitarian than the roundsdocs, since so much of their job revolved around the nitty-gritty, unglamorous physical side of things. To use a military metaphor, if the roundsdocs are the officers of the medical world, these guys are the grunts.
After they've read the book, I always ask readers who their favorite D2W character is. There is a satisfying variety to the answers, but the most common one (so far) is the impish gardener who doesn't have a link to the medical world at all, aside from amorous intentions and the fact that her roommate keeps dragging her further into intrigue with them. At first, I wasn't sure where Shona had come from. I was just writing a scene one day, and somehow I knew that as Emma went to class there was a girl hacking at the bushes outside with a machete and swearing up a storm. I could see her with perfect clarity in my mind, and I just knew she had to be there. She was the one character who wrote herself; I'd agonize for hours over the precise wording of scenes seen from Emma's perspective, or Mike's, but Shona was always blunt as a butter-knife and made no bones about anything. If I'd tried to write her differently, she wouldn't have let me. There have been times when I've quite envied her ability to say things the rest of us only dare to think -and always get away with it. It wasn't until long afterwards, when the book had been finished for some time, that I finally realized she was a consolidation of every best friend I'd ever had, with special emphasis on a couple especially dear ones.
At first, I didn't intend a sequel. My friends wanted one, wanted to know what happened next, but I figured I'd given the characters their "happily ever after", and didn't see any more to tell. Then that pesky "What if?" came back. I remember the exact moment it occurred to me: I was walking my bike along a rough dirt road that led to my old house, and on my right was a fence covered in vines laden with wine-grapes, like those I'd seen in France. Suddenly, the realization struck me: France was invaded twice by Germany in the twentieth-century. My old European Studies thesis advisor used to be fond of saying that with the European Union, Germany had finally achieved through economic means the hegemony they had failed through two world wars. But the birth of the E.U. was in a group of coal and oil treaties that were signed during a fossil fuel crisis. What if the E.U. never formed -and, in the world I'd created, it wouldn't have? That opened up a whole new arena of possibilities, all of them darker than anything I'd ever intended to put my characters through when I first envisioned them.
Tides of the Island Mountain took nearly five years to write -a far cry from the six months of its predecessor. In the end though, it was worth it. Many of the facts come from actual experience: I know how the air feels in the Catacombs because I've been there, shivering with a cold that had nothing to do with temperature or ailment. I know that Emma had to go up twenty-one, then eighteen, then eight steps to reach the Mona Lisa because I counted them myself in the Louvre. I paced off the length and breadth of the French Paintings gallery, though those figures didn't make it into the book (72 and 14, by the way -if you're interested.) I profoundly annoyed a Dutch tourist in the Gallerie D'Apollon, crowding the jewel case with my laptop and taking detailed notes on the smallest elements. The scene where Mike spends the night in a Norman field draws an an earlier personal experience, from my college days. (Although in my case, I was sleeping in a field for far less sinister reasons than those which led Mike there: I simply lacked funds for a hotel room when I went to see Monet's Giverny. Still, it was a long night.) I cringed at destroying the Mont Saint Michel in Emma's world because I do love the real one so very much; I think I've been through every nook and cranny of the old monastery. Some metaphors, though, are too profound to let slip away.
I fear that if I continue in this vein, I shall reveal too much from my stories -perhaps I have already. If you feel that I have, please accept my apologies, as it was really only my intention to whet your appetite a bit. Happy reading!
Restoring a Victorian Belle Epoque cape from the 1890's
Besides all my work with Aegis & Owl, I also (with my husband) give historical presentations. We model our antique clothing, using our collection to teach people about everyday life in the nineteenth-century. You can see pictures from some of our presentations on our website: www.chrismancollection.weebly.com