Found My Lost Manuscript But Lost My Protagonist in 1816

My novel is back from the dead! Help me with the "Quantum" chaos: 19th-century survival gear, judgmental crows, and whether we can actually trust Mike.

Meet the committee. They’ve been waiting since 1816, and they have some thoughts on Molly’s backpack choices.

This week, I’m sharing a tiny snippet of a novel that’s been rattling around in my head for over a decade. As near as I can tell, I started it before 2014. After learning that writing historical fiction was really hard, I lost interest. Then, in 2022, for Christmas, Chuck gifted me a 6-week novel jumpstart workshop. Chuck didn’t want to be left out, so he registered too. The thing was, he didn’t even have an idea for his novel. His first page was literally blank. The syllabus we received before class indicated you should have the first 10 pages of your novel outlined.

Watching him scramble to piece together that was definitely a comedy. Ask him about Walt’s Crawlers; he should write it.

The workshop helped, but soon life got crazy busy. I retired from UofM after 36 years. You’d think that would be a gift of time. WRONG. Anyway, I got a new computer at some point and lost the manuscript in the transition, which has been my excuse whenever I’ve been asked about it. “Oh, that thing,” I say, “I lost it when I changed computers.”

Then a friend gave me “The Book of Alchemy” by Suleika Jaouad. The inner flap says it’s “A guide to the art of journaling–and a meditation on the central questions of life.” This friend knows me. And Suleika is a genius for getting the creative juices flowing and sent me searching for the lost manuscript.

I found my dusty novel manuscript locked in a Scrivener file among my backups. (I will never again tease Chuck for compulsively backing up our computers.) Scrivener is a program that “real writers” use for their long manuscripts. For newbies like me, it was like driving a Jumbo Jet liner to the grocery store when I could have walked a couple of blocks. I didn’t install Scrivener on my new laptop because it overwhelmed me. Was I really going to write more than 2000 words for a single project? “Nooooo,” I thought at the time.

This past week, I finally installed Scrivener, which was easier than I anticipated, and uploaded the most recent version of the lost novel from the backup files. It was better than I remembered, and now I’m obsessed with it.

The following is a very condensed version of a section from chapter one. Currently, this section is over 2000 words, but this condensed version offers a taste and is enough for you to help me make some important decisions.

Introducing: The Quantum Compass (Working Title)

It’s a story about a twenty-five-year marriage, a “science project” gone wrong, and the thin line between the world we know and the one that’s been waiting for us.

Meet Molly Traver. She’s an avid gardener and a mother of three, rides her bike all over Ann Arbor, and she is currently very, very angry with her husband, Mike. When she drops by his physics lab at the University of Michigan to have the last word, she expects a fight. Instead, she gets a front-row seat to a scientific breakthrough that leaves her stranded in a version of Ann Arbor that shouldn’t exist.

With a dying iPhone as her only link to home and a mysterious brass lighter pulsing in her pocket, Molly has to decide: is she the victim of a lab accident, or is the “cosmos” finally sending her a message? What is her next move?

The Last Message from the 21st Century

“Watch the mouse, Molly,” Mike said, his voice tight with excitement. “I’ve created the Star Trek transporter. Keep your eyes on the cage.”

Molly tried to focus, but the backpack on her shoulder vibrated. Then a second time. This vibration wasn’t the rhythmic pulse of her phone; it was deeper. Constant. Mike’s gaze locked onto hers. He felt it, too. A wave of oily nausea rolled over Molly, and her skull felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, the pressure mounting until the air itself seemed to hum. Then, as if a fuse had blown in the universe, the world went black.

When her eyes finally flickered open, the sunlight was blinding.

Molly studied the brilliant blue sky and wondered if she was at the dentist. There was a ceiling tile above her dentist’s chair with a similar view, but she could smell damp earth and hear an insect buzzing near her head. She pushed herself up, the world doing a slow, nauseating tilt. She looked for the twisted metal of her bike, but there was nothing—only tall grass waving in the breeze and turkey buzzards circling on the thermals.

She had so many questions about how she came to be in the field. And oddly, there wasn’t any cell phone coverage.

After hiking through the eerily silent woods, Molly reached the bluff overlooking the Huron River. She knew this spot; her home should have been just over the rise. In the distance, the “horseshoe” bend of the river glittered in the sun, but the University of Michigan Hospital was gone. No concrete, no glass, no emergency choppers. Just a vast, terrifying expanse of trees where a city should be.

The panic she’d managed so carefully finally shrieked. It felt like falling down the basement stairs backwards—dark, fast, and helpless. Her hand went into her pocket, brushing the pulsing heat of a brass lighter she’d found in the weeds earlier, but she ignored it, digging for her phone.

“Please God,” she sobbed. “It’s Molly. I really need you.”

She sent a text, ignoring the no signal icon. When it vibrated with a response, a few seconds later, she choked on her breath.

Mike: Molly, where r u? Molly: idk. The hospital is gone. Everything is gone. Mike: Didn’t you see my sign?

Molly stared at the screen, her vision blurring. Seriously? A scolding? Molly: Beam me home Scotty! Mike: IDK how.

The words felt like a death sentence. Molly curled into a ball in the deep grass. She looked at the phone: 50% battery. In this world of ancient trees and judgmental crows, that glowing screen was her only tether to the twenty-first century, and it was dying.

A little help, please.

This is where you, my dear reader, can join the fun. Here are a few questions or plot points, if you will, that I’m currently sorting through, and your input would be appreciated.

• The Science: Mike created a “transporter,” but he didn’t create a way back. Is he hiding something, or is he just as lost as Molly?

• The Gear: Molly’s backpack is “ridiculously heavy.” Aside from her dying phone, what items would a woman on a bike, doing errands, which includes a board meeting, stash in it? I see her using the items to stay alive and return home. Think MacGyver! So perhaps a binder clip on board meeting papers? Should she bring lunch to eat during the board meeting? A make-up pouch with things like tweezers? Items to donate/drop off at the community garden, such as gardening gloves? A tin of Altoids? Ugh, I don’t know.

• The Lighter: She found it in the weeds outside Mike’s lab, and it has a weird insignia that turns out to be a compass, maybe containing a bit of magic. Not sure what its role will play or if I should just cut it. So many questions to answer. Who is the real owner? How did it end up in the weeds? But if I keep it, at the very least, it will be super helpful for building a fire.

• Judgmental Crows: A crow is in the opening scene and has shown up a few times so far. Maybe the same one, maybe not. I’ve tried to delete the crows, but they keep showing up. In the opening scenes, there is a dialogue between Molly and the security guy at Mike’s lab about a crow she just saw and the creepy feeling she had. As a way to make conversation, she asks if he knows any folklore about them. He eventually says, “They bring messages from the cosmos, Mrs. Traver. Were you expecting any messages?”

• The Relationship: Is Mike’s “Didn’t you see my sign?” text the ultimate communication fail, or just a person in peak scientific panic? Backstory, the sign was taped to his lab door, “No cellular devices of any kind! If you are not sure what that means, don’t come into my lab.” Molly ignored it, clearly a problem. In the next chapter, we will learn that he is frantic to cover up the fact that Molly is missing. Is he paranoid? Is he being watched by the person who owns the lighter? Who funded his lab?

• What Year? Suggestions for a year? Two years that I’m considering:

  • 1816 “Year Without a Summer” (due to the eruption of Mount Tambora in 1815). The weather was bizarre, the crops failed, and the atmosphere was eerie.

  • 1760 This is just before the British took over the area from the French. It’s a wild, transitional time for the Anishinaabe people and the land itself, making the “wilderness” feel truly vast and untouched by the Ann Arbor Molly knows.

I need your help navigating the ‘Quantum’ chaos I’ve created! I’m at a fork in the road and would love your vote:

• The Gear: Should the mysterious brass lighter stay or go?

• The Year: Should Molly be stranded in 1816 (the year without a summer) or 1760 (the wild frontier)?

• Judgmental Crows: Keep them?

• The Husband: Do we actually trust Mike?

Finally, I need your inner MacGyver:

• What ‘genius’ item would a board-meeting-bound gardener have in her bag to help her survive the 19th century?

• If you were stranded in the past with your link to 2026 dissolving, what would be your first move?

Cast your vote in the poll below or tell me in the comments!

Life In Michigan Updates

The latest Life Michigan Podcast episode is out!

If you have an idea for a guest, email me (info@lifeinmichigan.com). We are looking for anyone who is creative, passionate, and has a story to share about their Life In Michigan. Don’t be shy.

The latest episode of Fans with Bands just dropped!

Ness Lake

Just one new article on LifeInMichigan.com. Click on the image to read the whole article.

🗓️ Never Miss an Event Chuck has been hard at work on our public Google Events Calendar. From book launches to local gigs, it’s all there. Subscribe to the Calendar

You’ll find things like this on the calendar!

I know I’m sharing this event a little late, but if you are reading this early on Sunday morning, there is still time to attend.

The Cozy Nook

Poor Legless. That’s what I’ve named the American Goldfinch that often lies on the windowsill, as if sunbathing by my window in my Cozy Nook. It flies with a slight list to one side and can’t perch on the bird feeder, but plunks itself in the middle of it. None of the other birds likes Legless.

On a happier note, I finished The Traveling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa and Philip Gabriel. Not at all what I was expecting. I didn’t realize I needed a book narrated by a snarky, observant cat, but here we are. It’s poignant, wise, and much deeper than the ‘cute cat book’ I thought I was picking up.”