This month I’ll be traveling to Boston College to participate in a scholarly history conference, “Bridging Faith and Nations: Passionist Missionary Footsteps in Republican China.” It’s destined to be a watershed moment.
Over two decades ago in April 2005, I was delving into research and development on the story that evolved into The Sower of Black Field. I was preparing for a trip to Germany, where I met people destined to inspire characters, learned that I was mispronouncing just about every name that made its way into the book, and discovered that the themes of the story were dramatically different than I imagined. It was a life-altering trip.
In April 2026, I’m embarking upon a whole new journey into history. Like The Sower, my next stories will follow the trials and tribulations of American Passionist missionaries—this time in Hunan, a mountainous province in southeast China. I have a treasure trove of history from an era known as “Republican China,” a period between the fall of the Qing dynasty in 1912 and the eventual rise of Communism in 1949. It is a time of intense chaos, political upheaval, and casual violence that rivals (perhaps even exceeds) the American Wild West. Warlords and provincial governors vie for control over vast swaths of territory. The mountains of Hunan abound with dens of men who prey upon their fellow humans to survive, and make a living by kidnapping people for ransom—especially westerners, who usually garner a handsome sum from a foreign government intent upon protecting its citizens. In order to travel from point A to point B, the missionaries hire bandits to defend them from bandits, praying every step of the way that the pay is sufficient to ensure a safe arrival. The era also churns with events from the Chinese Civil War between the Nationalists and Communists, and clashes between the Chinese and Japanese during World War II. The Passionist Archives contain a plethora of dramatic stories from 80+ missionaries, including nuns from the Sisters of Charity and Sisters of St. Joseph. Given the vast scope of material, only a series will do. It’s going to be an ambitious project. I’ve tentatively dubbed this series The China Missions.
At this moment, I’m keenly aware of how much I have to learn. Like the missionaries themselves, I’m an outsider to the customs, the culture, the language. I’m covering a time period before modern Mandarin existed, and Hunan has its own dialect and pronunciations. Given obligations at this time in my life (not to mention the present geopolitical climate), I doubt I’ll get an opportunity to visit Hunan anytime soon and experience the physical environment firsthand. Yet, even that would be only partially instructive. While China does have a small, but hardy Catholic church that sprouted from the seeds of missionary activities in the early 20th century, political currents have swept away all the religious history that existed there, and the people who directly interacted with the Passionists, the Charities, and the Sisters of St. Joseph have long since passed on. For a historical fiction writer who strives to create a vivid experience for the reader, these are significant impediments.
As Fr. Viktor Koch once said, God provides where need is greatest. I’ve been invited to an event that will connect me with China scholars who have studied this history for decades.
This month I’ll be traveling to Boston College to participate in a conference, “Bridging Faith and Nations: Passionist Missionary Footsteps in Republican China,” co-sponsored by the Archives of St. Paul of the Cross Province and the Ricci Institute for Chinese-Western Cultural History. I’m giving a workshop titled, “Scholarly Storytelling: The Process of Turning Archival Research Into Historical Fiction.” I’m energized by the prospect of teaching scholars how to convert historical fact into a literary narrative, but it’s also the life-altering experience I need for The China Missions. Using the series as a case study, I will be pitching my tentative cast of characters and 14+ novella framework to historians who can help elevate the work in progress, infusing it with culture, language, crucial themes, and all the miniscule details that bring a story to life. Like the trip I took to Germany in 2005, I’m hoping this conference will set my feet upon the right path, teaching me everything from pronunciation of words and names in Hunanese to the overarching themes of faith, culture, and history that will stay with readers long after they finish each book.
Learn more about the conference »
Want to stay informed? Join my mailing list, or watch my social media channels in the coming weeks and months. I won’t be revealing spoilers to the universe at large—not until the first few novellas are in production. You’ll have to attend the conference for those! In the meantime, peace and kindest regards to all who enjoy my work.
