– it required me to justly study Ancient Samaria, and truly tell the story of an overlooked world. Ancient Samaria is one of the regions that is often mentioned in scripture. However, it has stayed misunderstood for centuries, but reveals an incredible history once you start digging. I wasn’t just building a character; I was building a culture, a landscape, a political climate, and an entire lived experience behind one of the most iconic encounters in scripture.
The Gospels give us very little about the Samaritan woman. History gives us only glimpses of her world. So a lot of my work became piecing together the fragments we do have, cross-checking them with archaeology and anthropology, and then making creative choices where the record simply doesn’t speak.
And yes — sometimes I stayed very close to the historical record. And other times…I fudged it a little.
Here’s the truth about both.
What I Stayed True To
As well-established in history books, I also pivoted the tension between Samaritans and Judeans in my novel. Josephus has discussed this tension extensively, and the archaeologists also found evidence supporting this divide. There truly was hostility, suspicion, and centuries of fractured relationships.
The household structures, arranged marriages, and exploitation of women are also historically accurate. Marriage in the ancient Near East in those times was nothing about building a ‘life together’, but a form of transaction. Marriage contracts, inheritance laws, and clan-based structures all supported the historical perspectives on women. So Photine’s lack of choice and her vulnerability within those structures isn’t an exaggeration — it’s the norm.
Then there’s daily life. The mills, olive groves, stone houses, clay ovens, shepherding rhythms, market days — all of that comes directly from archaeological reports from Tel Balata (ancient Shechem), plus comparative studies of Iron Age and early Roman-period households. I wanted the practical world to feel solid beneath her feet.
I also relied on historically documented widow practices. While Samaritans had their own version of the Pentateuch, their cultural and religious context around widowhood was the same as in the region. Widows often became properties of a brother’s household. Survival came first; everything else didn’t matter.
And of course, Jacob’s Well itself is a real place — extraordinarily deep, historically attested, and sitting exactly where the story needs it to be.
Where I Gave Myself Creative Freedom
Let’s start with the obvious: we know almost nothing about her actual biography. So everything about her father, her brother, her early experiences, her marriages, her emotional landscape — that’s my imagination, shaped by what was plausible in her world.
I also took liberties in describing the local resistance movements. Samaria absolutely had political unrest, splinter groups, teachers, and prophetic figures, especially during Roman encroachment. Josephus records at least one Samaritan prophet gathering people on Mount Gerizim. But did Photine’s father belong to a resistance group structured exactly as I wrote it? We don’t know. Could he have? Yes. The social tension was real; the individuals are fiction.
Another area I shaped creatively was the domestic conflicts and seasonal rituals. Many of those details are pieced together from Jewish traditions, Samaritan practices, and what we know about ancient rural households. The emotional weight behind those rituals — the fear, the hope, the longing — is entirely novelistic.
And if you’re wondering about the travel routes: yes, I played with distances. Ancient people walked everywhere, often farther than we’d imagine today, but I still tightened the narrative timeline for the sake of pacing. It’s not inaccurate so much as simplified.
The deepest “fudges,” though, are emotional. The interior lives of the characters — how Jotham rationalizes his choices, how Leah copes, how Zimri wrestles with pride, how Photine learns to listen to her inner voice — these are places where history steps aside and story steps in.
Why I Made These Choices
Because Beyond the Well isn’t a textbook.
It is a historical fiction, grounded in research but not limited by it. I attempted to honor the world she lived in while giving her the agency that the women of that time didn’t experience.
The Samaritan woman was real.
Her encounter with Jesus was real.
But everything that came before that moment — the griefs, betrayals, patterns, cultural forces, and emotional scars that shaped her — those are lost to time.
So I did what every historical novelist must do:
I allowed scholarship to build the skeleton, and I let imagination fill in the flesh.
Not carelessly.
Not wildly.
But thoughtfully, carefully, and always within the realm of what could have been.
Sources That Informed the Novel
Without giving away my entire research library, here are some of the most influential sources that shaped the historical world of Beyond the Well:
These gave me the guardrails.
The story filled in the space between them.
At the end of the day, Beyond the Well stands in that delicate space between the documented and the imaginable. I hoped to give depth and dignity to a woman who was historically reduced to a single moment at a well — one that altered her life but didn’t define her whole story.
Some things in the novel are absolutely grounded in history.
Some are historically plausible reconstructions.
And some are narrative choices made to give her the full humanity she was never allowed in the text.
Truthfully, that is what historical fiction does at its best, restoring voice, color, and heartbeat to the places where history fell silent.
A historical fiction author who brings to light women’s resilience and faith through powerful and impactful storytelling.