Years, that is. One thousand years, and about a century before the births of Borte and Genghis Khan!

That’s the age the Bayeaux Tapestry is closing in on, give or take a century. Okay, well, nine hundred. And fifty. Nine hundred fifty. Now, after all this time - yes, after 950 years the tapestry is being sent as a loan to England to be displayed at the British Museum while its home museum in Bayeux is closed for renovations. The piece will be available for public viewing

The tapestry - technically an embroidery - was created in the aftermath of the Battle of Hastings of 1066 and sewn in Great Britain. When I say aftermath, I mean in the decades immediately following the battle. You know, the one where the Normans, led by William, Duke of Normandy, snuck across the channel, probably in the dead of night, and slayed the Anglo-Saxon king, Harold Godwinson. William was later crowned king, thus changing the course of British history.

Commissioned by Bishop Odo of Bayeux, half-brother to William of Normandy himself, the tapestry was first displayed in Odo’s palace before being moved to the Bayeux Cathedral, pictured below, where it is listed in a 1476 inventory of the cathedral’s treasures. At any rate, the tapestry has survived such harrowing events as the French Revolution, seizure by the Gestapo, and a 19^th century restoration.

Just as harrowing has been the reaction of the French and English experts and media surrounding the transport, storage and loan (some say ‘coming back home’) for display of the tapestry. Granted, it’s a delicate operation to move a millennium-old swath of linen fabric that stretches nearly 225 feet in length and 20 inches in height. Presuming all goes perfectly, the pubic will be able to see the tapestry, for a fee, starting in September and continuing until July of 2027, where it will be sent back to Normandy in time for the re-opening of its namesake museum, the Musee de la Tapisserie de Bayeux.

I’ve pasted below a few links to interesting articles about this storied event. If I lived nearby, I’d certainly visit, but since I’m not I will honor this most intriguing craftwork and its precarious journey and display here on Substack. If you are so inclined, link and read for more information on this fascinating artifact unique in world history.

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/culture/article/france-moves-bayeux-tapestry-for-british-museum-exhibit

https://www.thetimes.com/article/b8fc055e-bf08-40a6-9dd0-70b4d4d03824

https://www.thetimes.com/culture/art/article/bayeux-tapestry-how-the-british-museum-pulled-off-a-tremendous-coup-6txwstx6t

https://www.thetimes.com/uk/history/article/bayeux-tapestry-to-return-to-uk-for-the-first-time-in-900-years-3dx9zclch

https://www.thetimes.com/article/68dad9bf-84b2-45e0-9138-5f8bdf192107 (password bayeaux)

AI: An Intro Class Exercise

I was playing around with a lesson in my intro AI class the other week. The name of the class is “A Journey into Creative Collaboration with AI,” and Lisa Norman teaches it. I’ve posted more information about the class below. But back to the lesson.

The suggested prompt was to ask the AI for three ideas to end a story in which the main character finds what he or she is looking for, and then engage with the AI to further develop the ideas. Since I don’t follow instructions very well, I twisted the assignment a bit. Curious how two different AIs would respond to the same prompt, I fed the instructions into both Grok and ChatGPT, sat back and waited to see what would happen.

The results I received were not what I expected. Here is an excerpt from each AI response. Perhaps you’ll notice the same thing I did:

MY PROMPT (human created):

Hi, Grok, (ChatGPT) I’m a writer and I want your help on a story. This will be a little vague but I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me punch up the concept. And how’s this for something different? I want to start the brainstorming process with the end. I want the story to end with the main character finding what they’ve been looking for. That’s all I have for you; nothing more. Help me think up three different story ideas that involve that ending. And thanks.

THE RESPONSES:

First, from Grok:

Story Idea 1: The Echo of Forgotten Stars (Sci-Fi Adventure)In a distant future where humanity has colonized the stars, the main character, a disillusioned astrophysicist named Elara, has spent years chasing elusive signals from an ancient alien civilization believed to hold the key to unlimited energy.

Story Idea 2: Whispers in the Willow (Historical Mystery with Supernatural Elements)Set in Victorian England, the protagonist, a young archivist named Theodore, inherits a crumbling estate haunted by the ghost of his great-aunt, who vanished under mysterious circumstances decades ago.

Story Idea 3: The Last Bloom (Contemporary Drama with Environmental Themes)In a world ravaged by climate change, the main character, a botanist named Maya, embarks on a cross-continental expedition to locate a legendary flower rumored to possess seeds capable of restoring barren ecosystems.

Now, from ChatGPT:

1. The Thing Was Never Missing (Internal / Quiet Ending)

What they think they’re looking for:
Closure about a past event—a vanished person, a childhood trauma, a mistake that ruined their life.

2. The Object Exists—and It Changes Everything (Plot-Driven / Revelatory)

What they’re looking for:
A literal object: a manuscript, an invention, a map, a missing artifact, a hidden archive.

3. They Find It—but It’s Too Late (Bittersweet / Inevitable)

What they’re looking for:
A person: a lost lover, a child, a sibling, a version of someone who used to exist.

CONCLUSION: GOBSMACKED

I don’t know about you guys but those two very distinct “thought” processes rattled my brain. Did they surprise you, too?

A note about the “brains”: each accepted and tackled the prompt with enthusiasm. Each delivered in mere seconds something I would scarcely be able to match unless I worked on it for a month; well, a week, maybe. Yeah, I’m slow. So, credit to its process.

Grok sent back title, genre, world, time period, setting, characters with names, as well as the stakes involved. Reading the responses felt like I’d stepped into a world of sensory overload. A roller coaster, a fun house, a hall of mirrors – me, bombarded with possibilities, as I careened, breathless, through the responses. When it stopped, completed story concepts were planted into my own brain, waiting to be written.

From ChatGPT, the story ideas were nuanced—theme-oriented, suggestive rather than prescriptive, seeming to guide the author to construct his or her narrative from a place of discovery. It felt like I was going for a walk on a forested path, stopping along the way to discover pebbles, twigs, bits of moss. I could put them in my pocket then scatter them across the table at home to consider at will; to be arranged and then assembled into a story. At the very least, it was a fill-in-the-blanks, create your own adventure type of exercise. Not as concrete as Grok, allowing the author a much more flexible approach to creating his or her stories.

From the above responses, a storyteller might select a slice or be sparked with a unique story tangent.

Are you a writer interested in finding out more about how ai works? Look no further. The answer is below.

CLASS WILL NOW BEGIN

Lisa Norman’s online class for writers is called “A Journey into Creative Collaboration with AI.” Lisa is one of the best computer tech instructors on the internet. She specializes in working with authors, although they are by no means her exclusive domain. In her own words, Lisa excels at helping folks and computers play nice together, proven by her lengthy and diverse client list. For instance, her first lesson is called “What is AI, Really: A Plain Speak Introduction to the Mirror.”

If you are a writer, or anyone at all, and want a self-guided approach to working with AI, Lisa’s class can be found here:

https://classes.nostresswriting.com/creative-collaboration-with-ai/

Look up Lisa and her classes at the No Stress Writing Academy.

Good luck and happy AI discovery!

The AI advised me on which brand of gin to use, embraced my homemade elderflower champagne, and approved of its rosemary and pomegranate garnish. Then, it followed up with a nifty idea for fancy ice cubes to go along with it.

Granted, if I were a food stylist, those pomegranate seeds would be tweezed with those rosemary leaves in such a way as to create a perfectly lovely … something. But no matter. I’m more unhappy with the poor lighting in the photograph than the haphazard arrangement of ingredients. And they looked pretty cool in the glass, too.

Suffice to say that the concoction was a hit at our family party — a refreshing accompaniment to our usual take out pizza (kid friendly). It poured easily from the pitcher, over plenty of ice, and we might have even finished the whole batch.

Whether I make it again or not will depend on the upcoming elderflower season and my timing in getting to their canyon growing spot. If I’m late reaching them, there are always the elderberries for wine (never tried that) or a raw honey-laden medicinal syrup. Mom, nature and AI make a pretty good team.

Who Dared Wear the Royal Purple?

Look, I know they cut this thing in half to 1:40. But it’s worth the listen for Sergio Mendes, born today in 1941. By the way, Lani Hall still married to Herb Alpert for something like sixty years.

I know. It’s high pressure time. Tree. Presents. Carpets need vacuuming. And what will I feed everyone tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday? Never mind Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

BUT, there’s always the moment you say to yourself “I want to make (something) a treat to set out when people come over.” Make this. Fudge. Fifteen minute fudge. One pan, three ingredients, well, plus salt. Candy thermometer not needed. You can even, I’m told, make this in the microwave in a large Pyrex measuring cup.

So, add these to your last-minute shopping list and reward yourself and your loved ones.

Here ya go:

Twelve ounces of chocolate (I use chocolate chips.) One can of Borden’s Sweetened Condensed Milk One teaspoon vanilla A pinch of salt

Melt chocolate over low heat. Make sure to stir. Pour in one can sweetened condensed milk. Stir and stir some more. Just keep stirring until it’s all smooth and looks nice and glossy. This is the fifteen minute part. Whenever you want, add the vanilla. Just don’t forget it. And then stir and stir again. Pinch of salt, stir some more. When it’s just right, pour into a square cake pan, or any pan of your choosing. Stick it in the fridge and done.

This is a delicious and easy recipe that everyone will love. My teenaged granddaughter makes this whenever she has friends over to her house.

Can’t possibly make this before Christmas? Well, New Year’s Day is coming up fast. It still counts as holiday time, which means I get another week to blow my good eating habits. Goes especially well with bowl games.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

When I die, it will be with at least one regret. I didn’t call my aunt, and then she passed away.

One October a few years ago, I began to think about holidays and holiday food. My mother’s layered pumpkin chiffon pie popped into my head. Trouble was, I had lost the recipe and my mother passed away in 2012.

But I knew my Aunt Susan would have it. Trouble was, I also wasn’t certain I wanted to make the pie that year. It’s a pain to put together - it takes all my mixing bowls and measuring cups and spoons at least twice over during the process and that year I must have been feeling lazier than usual. If I called her to get the recipe and then didn’t make the pie, I’d be wasting her time and I’d feel bad about that. So I didn’t call her. Next year, I promised myself.

Thanksgiving Eve, we were at home, my husband and I, preparing to drive into the city the next day for Thanksgiving dinner with our kids and grandkids, like always. The phone rang. My favorite uncle was on the line. Brother to my mom and to Aunt Susan, too.

“Susan just had a stroke,” he told me, “They flew her down in a helicopter. Maggie and I are on the way to the hospital right now.”

The hospital was 1200 miles from them and 150 from where I was sitting at that moment. My uncle is a truck driver; his wife is as hardy as any flyover country farm girl. I knew they’d make it, no problem, and fast. So would we, my husband and I. But already that pie recipe and the missed opportunity to talk to my aunt was chewing at the back of my neck.

My aunt lingered for ten days, an agonizing eternity for the family, and probably her, too. Thanksgiving came and went, although I can’t remember anything about it.

At some point my uncle or the doctors, or the good Lord, decided my aunt would not recover and she was transported to a hospice care facility near her home. God bless her, she hung on until everyone in the family came by to see her. She died the night we came to visit, after everyone had left and only one of her grandchildren was in the room with her.

The following year, I called my cousin, her daughter, and asked her for the pie recipe. I knew she would have it. She took a picture of her copy (titled “Aunt Grace,” my mother, at the top of the page) and texted it to me right away. I printed it out and typed an extra copy. This year, I made the pie.

But the recipe is even more special now. When I made the pie, for Christmas that year, one of my boys became very excited while eating his slice. “Mom,” he said, “I remember eating this at grandma’s house a long time ago. I never liked pumpkin pie, but I loved this pie. I’m so glad you made it.”

I’ll always regret not having called Aunt Susan to get my mom’s pumpkin chiffon pie recipe. It would have been my last conversation with her, and a good one. Our talks were always peppered with bits of family lore which I loved hearing. And what experience is better than two women sharing family recipes? It would’ve been a loving, funny and fun conversation with her, the closest sibling to my mother and someone who was nearly as dear to me.

I made the pie this year with my heart full of Mom and Aunt Susan, now together back in Nebraska, buried with my grandmother in the family cemetery. I also remembered why I don’t make the pie every year. It takes forever; it makes a huge mess; there isn’t any way to do it over several days in steps, as with many other dishes, and isn’t Thanksgiving busy enough already?

But I have to admit to experiencing the same nirvana with my first bite of the pie, this year as with all other years, now accompanied by a twinge of regret. There is nothing better tasting; it embodies the holiday spirit more than any other dessert. And eating it is way better than making it. So I’m having a slice with my morning coffee today. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Aunt Susan.

Two, the number was two. Cat 2, I thought of her. She was the last one left of a group of three who came with the house when we moved in twelve years ago. She was a ghost at night, stalking prey in the dark. A huntress. Eventually, she was the only one of the three still around. She decided about then that the space underneath the back porch was home.

She claimed the territory around the house and garden as hers and kept it free from lizards, squirrels, rabbits and even made a skunk or two feel unwelcome enough to leave. Never saw a rat or mouse. She took care of them, too.

She disappeared last winter. We never knew how she met her end until this fall when some workers rebuilding the back porch found her underneath, curled up, gone.

I’m not a critter person and certainly not a cat person so it never occurred to me to so much as invite her inside. But I must say I miss her, especially when I see how fast and by how much the wild critter count has gone up around here. And now she has her own Substack post, complete with picture. I guess she earned that much in her short, but useful, life.

After Temujin (Genghis Khan) unified the steppe tribes to create the Mongol Empire in the year 1206 AD, he set out to expand its territory. Marriage alliances, as discussed here, were one such strategy, but military conquest is best known in the West. Payoffs were big. Risks were big, too, but the Emperor (the honorific bestowed upon the khan as laid out in this past column) was a master at organizing his commanders, soldiers and their households into ruthless, highly effective armies.

Key to this expansion lay in control of the Silk Roads, located within the empire’s immediate reach. These trade routes, ancient even in the 13th century, stretched four thousand miles in a network from Dadu (Beijing) west to the Middle Sea (the Mediterranean) and beyond. Whoever controlled the trade routes controlled, effectively, most of the known world—its lands, its people and its considerable wealth.

Tempting, then, for a nascent tyrant who knew all too well the grim fate of anyone who fell prey to enemy forces. For decades, Temujin had suffered brutal oppression at the hand of his steppe overlords. He dared to challenge the prevailing order, and he came out on top. Perhaps for this reason he made the choice to keep going. He went to war again. Genghis Khan became hunter rather than hunted; conqueror rather than conquered; ruler rather than oppressed peasant.

But his ferocious land grab was accompanied by an unexpected consequence. Peace broke out. This period of peace is known today as Pax Mongolica. Pax Mongolica brought unprecedented prosperity and security to Central and Eastern Asia. How did this happen?

As the khan built his empire, he set up military outposts every twenty or thirty miles along the Silk Roads — the distance a rider could travel before needing to switch mounts. Later, the system was expanded by Genghis Khan’s son and successor, Ogedei Khan. This network was called the yam. These yam outposts provided fresh horses, fodder and riders. This medieval pony-express style system enabled messages to travel with much greater speed, a necessity in a rapidly growing empire. Thus, the military presence had the benefit of making the Silk Roads safe for decent, law-abiding people. While the Mongols were in power, it was said, a virgin with a nugget of gold carried on her head could walk unmolested its entire length.

One result of this was an explosion in the size of the merchant class. Traders plied their goods along local routes that stretched in an unbroken chain from China to Europe. Some became rich. Very rich. Explorers, tourists, pilgrims, missionaries - people of all classes, and from all walks of life spread languages, customs, scientific discoveries and faiths from one end of the known world to the other.

It was Pax Mongolica joining East with West via the span of the Silk Roads that enabled Marco Polo, William of Rubruck and other Europeans to travel to and report on the Mongol royals, its court and its people. Because of Pax Mongolica we have Western eyewitness descriptions of Central Asia, the Mongol capital of Karakoram, and later Khanbaliq, also known as Dadu (predecessor to Beijing), capital of the Yuan dynasty, and the magnificent court of the Mongol Emperor Kublai Khan.

Family infighting and the Black Death were among the causes that broke up the empire and brought an end to Pax Mongolica. But for a time, Genghis Khan and his successors brought about a measure of peace and stability in the region that today’s leaders might envy.

Of course, modern armies don’t lay siege to exotic cities or enslave their artists, scholars and engineers. And it took a khan with the genius of Temujin to be able to effectively govern what would become history’s largest contiguous empire. Although he faced an unimaginable array of administrative challenges, what might have descended into a clash of civilizations instead coalesced into Pax Mongolica, and a cosmopolitan court extolled far and wide as a center of learning, of science and technology, and of religious tolerance.

At one time the announcement would read, “Mr. and Mrs. ‘Swift,’ announce the engagement of their daughter, Taylor, to Mr. Travis Kelce, tight end for Kansas City Chiefs.” That was then.

The world was a more genteel place. Ladies only had their names appear in print upon their births, marriages and (ahem) funerals. Now that we live in an anything-goes-let-it-all-hang-out era, Miss Swift and Mr. Kelce splashed themselves over social media and billions of us were informed of the blessed event mere seconds after it took place.

The reaction has been worldwide, just as ‘swift', and loud. I won’t list the congratulations and condemnations here. The hubbub was impossible to escape for a few days. No doubt readers know, or can guess, the gist of them; and by the way, delight is the uniquely de rigeur expression for newly engaged couples. But the inspiration provided by a particularly sour take, with which I disagree, brings me to write this column.

Here is my take: now Taylor Swift can quit her singing career and thus fulfill another American tradition, sorely absent as of late.

When I was a kid and the world was a better place, women typically retired from the gauche demands of a job upon the occasion of their marriages. That was when a husband’s single income sufficed to support an entire family and material expectations were not so grandiose.

To that end, I assume Miss Swift has earned enough to retire, and Mr. Kelce’s salary alone is large enough on which to raise a family in the manner that his beloved is accustomed. For of course they should, they ought, they must raise a family. After all, how could they even consider letting those rip-roaring genes fall by the wayside?

I don’t care who you are or what you do for a living, women and men are meant to get married, settle down and make babies. The more the better. The more babies, that is. Nothing changes this fundamental truth. Except perhaps the efforts and failing, of a few and very sour, refuseniks.

As for Mr. Kelce, he is striking out on his true pathway as a provider and protector of his wife and future children. That means putting aside his own wants and needs for the sake of his family. Until now his life has been a dress rehearsal for his calling to serve; for selfless sacrifice is the hallmark of a man’s life. It is this complete giving of oneself to family, work, community that makes men the most prolific and profound, of givers.

In a society that too often believes it is better to receive than to give, this view and expectation of manhood has suffered a precipitous decline. Yet the moral foundation and the well being of the human race depends on it. Mr. Kelce, indeed every man, accepts this assignment, imprinted as it is in our very humanity. Thus, we congratulate Mr. Kelce and Miss Swift and root for their every success in this civilization-preserving commitment to a lifetime of service to each other and the family they will create together.

For happiness is achieved not outside of ourselves, not in receiving something we think we want, but through sacrifice in service to others. And we congratulate Taylor and Travis in undertaking this true calling. It’s a big job, but from the looks of things, they are up to the task.

“Avarga.”

Avarga. That barren place bounded by two rivers. He had seen it once. A dull and isolated patch of land where little grew except the stalwart grasses. Nothing moved. Nothing existed to break the land’s utter flatness.

“What will you do there?”

She turned to him and kissed his neck. “Live,” she said simply. “Make a home far from the fields of war. There is pasture there. Much, much pasture. And magic, too, in the water. Strong spirits. I feel that strength when I am there. It is safe. I feel that too. It is meant to be my home, where I can rule the tribe in your absence. Avarga,” she said. “I want to go to Avarga.”

He would not deny her. “You shall have it.”

The above passage taken from my novel, soon to be published by Heart Ally Books, marks a major turning point in the saga of Borte and Temujin’s story. Temujin has returned home from war with the news he has been named as Wang Khan’s sole heir. The significance of this event has profound effects on both his family and world history. But Borte uses this moment as an opportunity to break her own bit of news to her husband.

By this time in the story, the couple had been married for about eighteen years. Although the unification of the steppe tribes that would create the Mongol nation was still far from certain, Temujin’s growing power and influence on steppe politics was undeniable. Borte had recently returned from a visit to her home ordu. It was on this return visit she encountered Avarga and decided to make it her base of tribal operations. As the story would prove, much remained to be done before Temujin’s power was cemented and the people chose him as their leader.

As a historical site, Avarga, also known as Khodoe (Khuduu) Aral, is located at the confluence of the Kherlen and Tsenker Rivers, approximately 150 miles to the southeast of Mongolia’s capital city, Ulaanbaatar. Avarga became the capital and winter base camp for the empire until a few years before Genghis Khan’s death, when a new capital, Karakorum was founded. However, even after this, Avarga was used as a supply station, and Borte and Temujn’s son, Tolui, declared Avarga a sacred shrine to his father.

For more information about Avarga, visit my article on World Anvil, linked below:

Avarga

Note: No AI was used to write this article

Author Deleyna Marr is currently writing a series on Substack about AI. The title of the series is “Reflections From the Mirror” — a perfect metaphor for what happens when human and AI interact. (did I just commit an em dash there?)

Deleyna’s day job is working with authors and tech to, as she puts it, help them play nice together. As such, she runs the No Stress Writing Academy, which offers online classes that do just that. Her latest class covers the topic of AI, specifically learning and practicing how to use an AI as a partner, not a shortcut.

If you are curious about AI and want to find out more about how you can benefit from its use, I urge you to read Deleyna’s series. Here is a link to get you started:

Deleyna’s Drift

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I’ve spent most of my life helping creatives, especially writers, find and share their voices by leveraging technology. So when I saw the rise of generative AI, I paid attention. Not just to the tools, but to the conversations around them. And what I saw broke my heart…

Read more

10 months ago · 6 likes · 17 comments · Deleyna Marr

Next, a link to Deleyna’s new online class. It is called “A Journey into Creative Collaboration with AI.” For the next two weeks, a coupon code “Reflections” gets you half off. That’s a hefty discount.

A Journey into Creative Collaboration with AI

By the way, here is Deleyna’s caveat on the class registration page. It’s important, so I’m copying and pasting it here:

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is not a "get rich quick" class. If your goal is to automate books and flood the market, this isn’t the place for you. But if you're here to explore how technology can deepen your artistry and expand your creative possibilities, then welcome. You belong here.

By the way, his novel “Stick” is one of my favorite books and illustrates perfectly what he says here:

(And I’m paraphrasing what Leonard says:) I create some characters and put them on the page and have them start dialoguing and interacting (note: Leonard would never have used “dialogue” as a verb; that is how we know this is a paraphrase and not a direct quote). Then, as the story progresses, I see that not all of them are germane to the plot so I kill off the one (or ones) I don’t need and continue with the rest.

In Stick, the main character, Earnest Stickley, is an ex-con fresh out of prison. Near the beginning of the story, Stick goes with his buddy on a drug deal, not knowing he (Stick) is set up to take the fall and get killed when the deal goes bad. As luck would have it, though, Stick ends up alive and his buddy gets killed instead.

Hijinks ensue, natch. It’s a damn good read and I wish I had Leonard’s plotting and dialogue skills. But that isn’t what I’m here to talk about, no matter how fascinating his process is.

I promised, and I will deliver to you, Elmore Leonard’s “Ten Rules of Writing.”

Here is where I need to check my ms for the word “suddenly.” “All Hell broke loose” is for sure not in it. Tongue in cheek, of course. Here is Leonard, writing in the NYT in the year 2001: (to soothe the copyright gods I’ve listed only the rules, along with a word or two to nudge the dear readers to the article, linked at the end of this post; it’s also a damn good read)

These are rules I've picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I'm writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what's taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.

1. Never open a book with weather. Except …

2. Avoid prologues. Unless …

3. Never use a verb other than ''said'' to carry dialogue. Asseverated?

4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb ''said'' . . . (he admonished gravely.)

5. Keep your exclamation points under control. (two or three per 100,000 words)

6. Never use the words ''suddenly'' or ''all hell broke loose.''

7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly. “patois”

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters. (no hooptedoodle allowed)

9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things. Unless …

And finally:

10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)

From the New York Times, by Elmore Leonard, July 16, 2001, Writers on Writing, “WRITERS ON WRITING; Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle”

https://archive.is/2byhv

https://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/16/arts/writers-writing-easy-adverbs-exclamation-points-especially-hooptedoodle.html?pagewanted=2&src=pm

Before the rise of Genghis Khan, the Mongols lacked a system of writing. This left them without a recorded history or body of literature; a state common to nomadic people. Because of this, the world has been deprived of knowledge about the governance, social structure and worship practices of mobile societies, the Mongols in particular. Yet, the man called by the Washington Post as ‘The Man of the Millennium” saw fit to provide his nation with a means to write down their distinct oral heritage.

After his death in 1227, an unknown author used the newly invented Mongol alphabet and composed an origin story of Genghis Khan and his clan, the Borjigin Mongols. The work was likely commissioned by the Mongol royal family and its author is thought to have been an intimate associate. The document is known as “The Secret History of the Mongols.” It is the only known contemporaneous eyewitness account of the origins, life and rise of Genghis Khan.

The story is composed as an epic poem and begins with the mythic origins of Temujin. The legend tells of a Blue Wolf mating with a White Doe, from which came the first Mongol, named Batachiqan. Eleven generations later, a widow, Alan Gua the Fair, conceived three sons by a supernatural being who entered her ger through its top. The youngest of the sons was Bodunchar, founding patriarch of the Borjigin clan, of which Temujin was a member. Borjigin leadership continued to provide rulers for Mongolia until the twentieth century.

Historians generally agree the greatest value of Secret History lies in its detailed chronicle of Mongol life in the 12th and 13th centuries. In addition to the empire’s military organization, Secret History provides a picture of its nomadic life, social structure and culture during that period of transition from federation of clans to empire. It depicts Temujin as a charismatic leader who inspires his people to act on his vision of achieving dominance over the steppe in the face of overwhelming odds.

Its historic accuracy is more controversial, with some scholars calling it a blend of fact and fiction, with fact nearly impossible to separate from fiction. Indeed, part fact, part fiction and part legend merge in my upcoming book that chronicles the rise of Borte and Genghis Khan. Fact, fiction and legend can be, and is also, applied to “The Secret History of the Mongols.”

There are many reasons Temujin might have been motivated to order a written language for his people. As the mobile Mongols increasingly encountered the sedentary world, a written system for their language made more and more sense. Governance, ease of communication, and efficiency must have all played a role in its creation and implementation. And not a small part of this desire by Temujin might have been the legacy he wished to leave. In his later years, he actively sought an elixir for immortality:

In the end, denied his rather poignant quest for eternal life, the Emperor departed this life unaware that his triumphs and deeds would lead to the world’s largest land empire in human history. But did he? After all, we have vague suppositions as to the Secret History’s author; but the commissioner of the work is, to date, silent to history. It remains entirely possible he discussed such a desire with his family and trusted advisers.

Temujin could not have known the impact on the world of his written language. But without it, history would be bereft of knowledge of the Mongol heritage, the toughness and resourcefulness of her people, and the life of the man who guided them to unimaginable, if ignominious, greatness. Thanks to that unknown scribe, The Secret History of the Mongols lives with us today, a testament to a man who very nearly conquered the world.

For the translation of Secret History by Cleaves: https://archive.org/details/Cleaves1982SecretHistoryMongols/page/n65/mode/1up

For the translation of Secret History by de Rachewiltz: https://web.archive.org/web/20200125184100id_/https://cedar.wwu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1003&context=cedarbooks

One of the shortcomings of a nomadic society like the sheepherding Mongols is lack of permanence. When people must pack up and seasonally transport their entire inventory of material possessions along with tens of thousands of animals, traveling light is a necessity. It follows, then, that a written language is an impossible luxury. Oral traditions help to fill the cultural void, ensuring cohesion and commonly shared values among tribal members. But lack of documented records or literature is a major cultural disadvantage for both nomad and history.

Enter Genghis Khan, otherwise known as Temujin. One of his unlikely gifts to the world was the development of a writing system for the Mongol language. In my novel, Temujin receives a flash of insight during an 1196 AD raid on the Tatar people when he sees written language and, in a single moment, fully grasps its significance. In today’s parlance, we call that the ‘aha’ moment.

Short passage from the story:

Since he was in the midst of plundering an enemy camp, Temujin could only stash the thought in back of his mind for safekeeping; but pragmatist that he was, he made use of it at an opportune time. That time came shortly before his unification of the steppe tribes in 1206 AD, when a captive Uyghur scribe named Tata-tonga was directed to develop a written system for the Mongol language.

Tata-tonga borrowed the script from his native Uyghur tongue and adapted it to fit spoken Mongol. This Mongol script was used until 1941, when it was replaced by Cyrillic after the Soviet revolution, but can still be found in use today in parts of Mongolia.

Part II, Coming Soon! The unexpected benefit to the world of Temujin’s inspiration.

This morning’s breakfast was eggs scrambled, gently, with milk, lox and cream cheese. No onion, yet. That’s for tomorrow. It was delicious, of course. And even better because it is our last breakfast of this weird experiment with food called carnivore. And thank goodness it lasted only four weeks. Now, to get through tonight’s dinner.

Animal products have been our only source of sustenance, with very little exception. Our freezer full of cow in every form imaginable, our extra milk and cream, cheese, and dozens and dozens of eggs all sustained us for the month. We ate animal protein, and only animal protein, for every meal. Well, salt. It satisfied us to where we barely had an appetite at all. Easy to resist snacking urges. There were a lot.

Thus, the topic of the post. It was life without crunch. And I missed that crunch. Every snacking urge desired crunch. Bite down and crunch, crunch, crunch to my heart’s content. Chips. More chips. Pretzels. Sometimes with dip, sometimes not. Nuts. Crackers of all sorts to eat with cheese, tuna salad or egg salad. Keep the cheese, tuna and egg but dump the crackers, please. We’re all carnivore now.

It got to be a bit ridiculous. On our quest to reach ketosis nirvana through meat (a not very pleasant gateway to weight loss and superhuman mental clarity), certain items, thought to be acceptable, were verboten. No carbs, but not meat; hence, the pickle reference. I admit that had me baffled.

Now that we will soon be free from this animal protein prison, I’m thrilled I can finally eat onions again, the crunchy kosher pickles I’ve always loved and assorted low and no carb foods. To dip? Celery sticks. At least until I declare a carb vacation for myself. Yes, that is a thing, I’m told.

Dessert? Would you believe home whipped cream on top of hard-boiled eggs? No, I didn’t go there. But I dreamt about it.

Toward the end of my forthcoming novel about the rise of Temujin (Chinggis Khan) and Borte, Temujin mentions the “village of the brides.” The village of the brides refers to Borte’s tribe, the Onggirat, also spelled Khongirad, depending on the source of your information. The Ongirrat is the tribe from which the men of his own clan, the Borjigin Mongols, selected their wives.

When Temujin and his father, Yesugei, were searching for a bride for Temujin, nine years old, they traveled to the camps of the Onggirats. The Buskar, a clan belonging to the Onggirat nation, was Borte’s clan. The legend is told that upon first setting eyes on Borte, age ten, both Temujin and his father were taken with her and immediately sought the approval of her father. Temujin’s mother, Hoelun, according to Jack Weatherford in his book “Secret History of the Mongol Queens,” also hailed from the Onggirat. Hoelun belonged to the Olkhonud clan.

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The steppe-forest tribes of the late twelfth century were comprised of dozens of warring factions. Blood feuds and kidnapping were prime strategies of gaining and holding power over weaker neighbors. But the Ongirrat nation was an exception to this violent social order.

Borte’s father, Dei Sechen, expressed the unique Onggirat dynamics this way: whereas other tribes depended upon the strength and force of their warrior sons for protection, the Ongirrat women employed their beauty and intelligence to attract the mightiest, most powerful chiefs as husbands who, in turn, acted as guardians to their wives’ people. Instead of relying on warfare, then, the Onggirat empowered their daughters to ensure the security of their tribes through more peaceful means. Bedroom diplomacy, it might be termed.

Having been brought up with the value of service to the nation and possessing the skills to rule the tribe during her husband’s long wartime absences, Borte raised her own daughters accordingly. When Temujin arranged his daughters’ marriages and sent them to the lands of their husbands, it was expected they would carry out the duties for which they were trained from childhood - to serve, to lead and to rule. I touched on this phenomenon in a previous column that featured one of Temujin and Borte’s daughters, Checheyigan, as a young bride sent to rule her new husband’s people. As Jack Weatherford quotes Borte’s father: “from ancient time, the Khongirad (Onggirat) people have queens as our shields.”

The steppe Mongols were known as perhaps the greatest horse archers in history. They used these and other tactics in their quest for world dominance. But in their distant forays, they engaged in war secure in the knowledge that at home, their queens of beauty, strength and intelligence were well equipped to face the challenges of home rule and keep their burgeoning nations secure and intact.

I don’t have a PhD, or any doctoral degree. I’ve never ventured on that journey. But I have a kid who is aalllmmosst there. He’s voluntarily locked himself in a mental dungeon, buried in God-knows-what stats and studies, engaging in what can only be termed as daily exercises in self-torture, stretched nearly to his emotional breaking point, for the past few years. The pain has been particularly acute since about February. And now, his dissertation has come due.

I have a group of children whose accomplishments, collectively and individually, are enough to make any mother proud. But it’s time to single out this particular child for undertaking and successfully completing the academic exercise where, as one of my own professors once put it, “you meet the dark side.”

I’ve told my son this, several times in the past few weeks. You’re going through the dark side. You’re deprived of sleep and all social contact with your family and friends - by necessity. Every minute becomes a unit of productivity bringing you closer to a goal you once thought unattainable. But it has taken everything you have in you.

All your hopes and dreams, your ambitions since perhaps childhood, you’ve slaved over and worked toward and the anxiety of ‘what if I’m not good enough?’ is a constant nagging presence. You’re at the point you want to give up, the process will never end, it isn’t worth it and you CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!

That’s where he is. This child, uniquely conscientious, perseverent and possessing a high sense of right and wrong, has reached his limits. But it’s almost over.

Tomorrow is the big day - the turn-in day; the deadline; the pay-the-piper day. And yet, the torture continues up until the very last minute. As he just this moment texted me ‘I’m completely exhausted. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. I’m so tired I can barely function.’ This, after a simple enquiry - how are you today?

But it ends. He will successfully defend his dissertation before his committee, and we will attend his graduation ceremony. And perhaps sweetest of all, the payoff comes and stays with him the rest of his life - the right to call himself and be called, ‘doctor.’

Honey, we are so proud of you. I think I will cry.

One of the fascinating factoids about the Mongol nation and its leader Temujin, or Genghis Khan, was his pragmatism in both conquest and rule. Having secured leadership over the Mongol steppe clans, he turned to his children’s marriage alliances to enlarge and strengthen the empire. This was accomplished primarily through his daughters.

As the steppe’s dominant power broker, Temujin was able to extract some hefty terms from his prospective in-laws. Not only did the matches ensure solidarity between the Mongols and other nations, but Temujin demanded, and received, absolute control over their tribal governance.

Each of his four daughters’ husbands occupied territory arranged roughly to the north, south and west of the Mongol nation. For Checheyigen, her fate resided in the north, with a tribe of forest people called the Oirat. They lived in bark huts, hunted the wild beasts for food and kept reindeer as riding and draft animals, since horses could not survive the harsh taiga environment. She married Inalchi, the son of the Oirat chief.

One of Temujin’s first acts upon completion of the nuptials was to summon his son-in-law for war duty. Then he appointed his daughter as tribe ruler. “As the daughter of your khan father,” he told her, “so shall you rule the Oirat people.”

With Checheyigan ruling the Oirat, and the son-in-law conveniently absent, Temujin now controlled the northern trade routes all the way to the Arctic. The land teemed with exotic wildlife whose hides and furs were prized by the myriad merchants who traversed the Silk Roads to the south. In addition, horns, teeth and tongues of elk and reindeer were valued for potions, medicines and talismans. These goods allowed the Mongols to enrich themselves through trade and eventually led to Mongol control of the entire Silk Roads network. This was coupled with more than a century of peace and prosperity throughout Central and Eastern Asia - a period termed by historians as Pax Mongolica.

Despite the deserved bloodthirsty reputation of Genghis Khan and his armies, Temujin was still a dad, and especially close with the children he fathered with his beloved principal wife, Borte. When it came time for them to leave home and join in marriage with strangers in a far away land, he made certain to impart some words of wisdom — fatherly advice that rings true even today. “Be sincere always,” he said. And the simple words that headline today’s post: “Get up early and go to bed late.” One can almost imagine him shedding a tear as his daughters rode out of sight.

Some of the information for this column came from the book “The Secret History of the Mongol Queens,” by Jack Weatherford

I’ve lately been wrestling with changing the spelling of the name from Genghis to Chinggis. Khan, that is. That’s a topic for another Substack post, but out of curiosity this morning I Googled ‘Chinggis Khan,’ instead of ‘Genghis Khan.’ Something fun popped up and I want to tell you about it.

Fans of Temujin and Borte don’t have to travel all the way to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia now to see ancient artifacts of the Empire. If you happen to be in or near the Czech Republic capital of Prague during the next three months, the National Museum is hosting an exhibition featuring Chinggis Khan. And, as with so many buildings in Europe, the National Museum is worth a visit simply for its architecture. This is the Neo-Renaissance Dome Hall in the main building of the National Museum.

The exhibit features items seldom seen outside of Mongolia, along with period pieces from the National Museum’s own collection. The exhibit continues through June 22. Visitors will see jewelry, weapons, tools, household items and equestrian equipment including a rare wooden saddle that dates to the Mongolian Empire. A description of the saddle is given by curator Pavla Hubackova. (apologies for no diacritics) Alas, no photograph:

"The saddle is made of wood, tied with wooden strings. It was found at a burial site, alongside the mummy of its rider. Discovered in rock, which is why it has been so remarkably well preserved. The Mongolian saddle has its own unique characteristics, just like Mongolian horses. They are smaller, stocky, but also incredibly tough—qualities that played a crucial role in the Mongol army’s long journeys and battles.'‘

A survey of gift items for sale includes these animal bone replicas, used by Mongols and others since ancient times as game tokens. The traditional way to play with the bones is to ask a question, throw the bones and interpret the results.

Readers of my upcoming book on the rise of Chinggis and Borte will encounter such game pieces several times in the story, of significance to various characters. Borte, during a rare period of solitude, throws the knuckle bones, as they are called, to pass the time.

Here are a couple of links for further information on the exhibit. A few photos are included:

https://english.radio.cz/chinggis-khan-exhibition-brings-rare-mongolian-treasures-prague-8845384#volume

https://www.praguedaily.news/2025/03/15/genghis-khan-new-exhibition-at-the-national-museum-in-prague/