Jonathan Dickinson looks into the history and thoughts of Dickinson after his shipwreck on the Florida coast and the impact it had on him and the people they encountered. What research did you do to understand the backdrop for your book?

Dickinson’s original manuscript, which focused solely on his shipwreck and escape from hostile natives, has been available for many years. Telling the story in a broader context first led me to historical records in his native Jamaica. Understanding that Dickinson was witness to the dying days of Spanish Florida involved sifting through numerous eyewitness accounts in several Spanish archives. Learning the perspective of Florida’s Native Americans meant delving into and distilling the academic works of modern archeologists and historians.

What were some ideas that were important to you to share in this book?

I’ve always felt that Dickinson was a bit myopic in his journal. Yes, it’s a hair-raising account of suffering and courage, but it’s both odd and irritating that this intelligent, well-traveled merchant offers so few political insights as to the relationships between the Indian tribes he encountered along his way. The same goes for the Spanish colonists and their testy relations with the Indians and the dire threat Florida faced from the English colonists who were flexing their military muscles in Georgia and Carolina.

Dickinson might not have realized that he was witness to the dying days of Spanish Florida, but providing more detail would have allowed the rest of us to understand what was unfolding. Hence, I saw my purpose as to gather up the historical fragments and bundle them into a story explaining why Spain failed in Florida and why its Indians disappeared in the process.

Equally important to me was to avoid an academic dissertation and keep the story concise enough to be appreciated by a general readership – people who are curious to learn more about the subject but who have scant knowledge about it. This also meant paraphrasing some of the archaic expressions and woeful misspellings that make the original Dickinson journal so hard to read.

What experience in your life has had the biggest impact on your writing?

Sorry…no earthquaking epiphanies. Just as some folks feel their souls will shrivel if they don’t paint on canvas or climb mountains, I’ve always had this unexplainable compulsion to write about what strikes me as interesting – especially if no one has tackled the subject before. There’s a special challenge – maybe like a detective delving into an unsolved cold case – in pulling together threads of information and knitting them into some sort of literary sweater. You always think you’ve missed a stitch, or the sleeves are too long. But if enough folks think your new book is interesting, it motivates you to keep pecking away on a new topic, perhaps without mixing metaphors as I just did.

What is the next book you are working on?

I’m not “working on” a book right now – as in typing feverishly. When I send a book off at last, there’s a sense of relief not unlike finally ushering your twenties-something offspring out the door. Then comes a lull when you tidy up the office, toss out extraneous research notes and file away those that may be needed in case some nitpicker wants to argue a point (my papers remain unmolested in their sarcophagus). Then comes the book talks and promotions (Hey, it’s done with already! But no.).

Yet, “working on” the next one goes on inside the head. Nowadays the brain churns away mostly on an historical fiction tome. About Berlin when The Wall is about to fall and a certain young Russian KGB officer in Berlin struggles to grasp what’s happening to the Soviet empire. He has a name…Pushkin…who is really…you guessed it.

It will mean a lot of work. But maybe if enough readers find the latest book interesting, I’ll give it a try.