Even the Kitchen Sink
On the whole world becoming relevant
This has been a busy summer. I’ve had wonderful experiences talking with booksellers and readers about Fellowship Point, my novel that came out in early July. The response has been beautifully positive, I’m relieved to say—and relief is the word for it. I didn’t know how it would be received. It seemed to me an odd book, but I knew it was for others as well as myself. I took Purple Rain very much to heart! I have also had a great publishing experience with Scribner/Marysue Rucci books. So the complex emotions I have experienced in the wake of publication are all on me.
One of the unexpected feelings I’ve had is an awareness that I was in the equivalent of a sensory deprivation zone since 2011 when I began this book. I set a lot aside to keep my mind as much as possible attached to my characters and protective of the portal I needed open to missives from the subconscious that resolved problems that arose. What I ignored most of all was my own physical self and the health issues I was having during those years. I felt fulfilled by work, and that made it easier to ignore the fact that I was missing out on a lot, declining invitations, watching others go off on the hikes I used to love. Issues began when I tore three ligaments in my left ankle. Then I got bartonella, and then polymyalgia rheumatic. A long course of doxycycline and two years of prednisone. The latter two don’t go away but re-emerge as flares every so often. I escaped new realities by heading to Fellowship Point as often as I could and feeling free in every way when I was immersed in composition. This all hit me at the same time as good reviews and kind letters from readers. It has led me to rethink lots of behavior, especially as I work on a new novel.
And I am back to work, and have hit my stride with the new project—though time is limited with the semester coming up and class prep. But I have recently entered the stage where the whole world seems relevant to my book. It always reminds me of referential mania a la Nabokov. This feeling of the project being in intimate dialogue with the world is expansive and creates compassion and a desire to convey that on the page. While it may seem that the author is sequestered and possibly even anti-social, the mood during working time is quite the opposite. The patterns that lie beneath the surface appearance of nature are palpable, and meaning is laid bare. Relationships with characters feel full of insight into human nature: I am reminded of when I was a girl trying through conversation with friends to figure out the mystery of parents, teachers, mean girls, and other friends.
This sensation kicks in after I have figured out a lot of essentials about the book and I have a narrative voice speaking clearly in my head. It doesn’t last forever but while it’s happening it’s marvelous and fascinating. How is the world serving up the exact answer I needed? Writing is a great mystery.
This time around I am determined to pay attention to my physical reality as well. I need post it notes!
Next week…a post about Maine. Have a great week in between.
And I, too, am committed to your physical health as well, lest I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the nearest Doc in a Box (God forbid!).