Tonight’s topic is one I’ve been thinking about ever since I began formatting my novels for paperback. The fact that I’ve forgotten about this topic every evening when the time came to compose a post probably says something about me personally – specifically about my reluctance to admit my mistakes.

Because my mistakes are my topic.

Specifically, my inconsistencies.

In my books.

Emerson (who knew something of suffering, since his parents named him Ralph Waldo) famously said, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” This has given great comfort, over a couple centuries, to many people looking for excuses.

Which brings us to me.

One thing (one of many) that has bedeviled me over the years, as I’ve worked on my Erling Saga, was a sneaking suspicion that I was describing things differently in different books. I have avoided this problem by assiduously refraining from re-reading them. But the process of formatting for paperback has forced me to read each of them, and I’ve discovered that my fears were justified.

Shall I share some of the inconsistencies? Will that depress others as much as it depresses me?

Be strong, and read on if you dare.

The character of King Olaf’s marshal, Bjorn (the sagas do not give us his father’s name; I had to make one  up for him), is described as dark-haired on his first appearance. In King of Rogaland he is suddenly fair-haired and bald.

Closer to my heart are the standing stones at Augvaldsness (Avaldsnes) on Kormt (Karmøy) island. This, as I’ve explained more often than you care to recall, is the location of my great-grandfather’s home church. Only one of those standing stones still stands today, but originally there was an array of five. In one of the Erling books (I think it was The Elder King, but I’m already not sure) I said only two of those stones were standing at the time, and the others were just stumps. But in King of Rogaland, based on a reconstruction of the Viking Age farm from Norway, I put all five up again, adding a lame excuse that Ailill’s memory is vague, and he thinks the magic of the place has affected his perception.

And now I have to live with it.

Well, if Conan Doyle could live with forgetting where Dr. Watson got his wound in Afghanistan, I can probably live with these things. It’ll give future Walker scholars something to debate. Or laugh about.