Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #116. Love and Silence: "The Space Between."

Ongoing characters find their way into literature now and then. Mark Twain created Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Both characters appeared in the sequel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Not many people know that he wrote two novels, Tom Sawyer Abroad and Tom Sawyer, Detective. Ian Fleming wrote fifteen novels about the now-icon figure of James Bond. W. Somerset Maugham wrote several short stories and a couple of novels featuring his ongoing character, William Ashenden. One of my ongoing characters, Sossity Chandler, has thirty-six published stories to her credit. An ongoing character about whom I wrote less, Martin Rollins, is the main character of the story for this blog, "The Space Between." 

Martin did not get as much space as Sossity. He appeared, though, in my first published story, "The Girl Who Knew Nick Drake," and in my first published novella, The Gallery; he is the main character in a few other stories, and in the "The Space Between."  Martin is a musician, a guitarist, not spectacularly famous, but with a solid fan base, a good reputation, and loyal fans. He easily makes a living as a musician.  In "The Space Between," he meets an old flame from high school, Talia Metzger, while he out on tour.

He and Talia had been intimate. The relationship was unusual to Martin because Talia was deaf. He and she are assigned a lab partners in a high school chemistry class. They become friends. He is amazed at the way she communicates. At first, she uses notes and an iPad to talk to him; and she can speak to some degree, even though she cannot hear what she is saying. Eventually, though, Martin learns to communicate with her through gestures, expressions, and through silences. She is beautiful and athletic. They are together two years. Things are going well. Then something splits them up. That is Martin's budding career as a musician. 

Talia cannot hear his music. He knows that those who have no hearing can comprehend music, but someone Tania's inability to hear drives a wedge between them and they split up. Martin makes a name for himself as a musician; he sees articles now and then on Talia, who has married, had children, manages a chain of charter schools, and is an advocate for the deaf. He is sitting in a coffee house, angry over a bad review of a performance when he gets a text message from her. She wants to see him.

Wealthy Street Bakery, in Grand Rapids, MI

She comes to the coffee house. Once, more the flame rekindles. He knows she wants him to make love to her. They arrange a meeting. After consummation, he surveys how things have changed and have not changed. What has not changed is his love for her; nor has her love for him. What has changed is that he has built a career; she has built a life. One more thing has changed:  she apparently now can understand and comprehend his music. 

He remembers a remark he once read (he thinks it was by Isaac Stern): In music is not the black notes on the page that mattes; it is the white space between them. This quote is usually understood to mean that in music timing is everything. But his love for Talia suggests to him that in music the silences are more importance than the sounds. Silence is a way of communicating. His relationship with her has taught him as much. She silently lets him know she wants to begin their relationship again. It will be an affair. She does not want to break up the life she has built. But he learns her husband could not reach one spot in her heart. It sat like an empty room, sending tiny impulses of discord into her soul. Only he could fill that empty space. Only the love he offered to her could complete and make her spirit whole. She told him this. She told him with her body. They part understanding they will see each other from time to time when Martin tours. Talia is organized and can arrange it. The story ends with Martin and Talia lying in bed together arms around each other, speaking with silence, their words more sure than any he had known before. The story, which I classify as one the ten or twelve best I have written, appeared in August 2013 in the journal Scholars and Rogues. Read it here.

To read more stories about Martin Rollins, read "The Girl Who Knew Nick Drake."

A novella featuring Martin is (a very good one, I'll add) is The Gallery.

New novellas coming soon. Stay tuned. 

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #115. Revising Myth: "The Fire Maiden"

Mythic revision has been going on for some time, and it's still a popular thing today. I remember the early days of it. It seemed that a number of feminist writers, not content with the passive heroines one encounters in many fairy tales, began to do revisions. Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber, was an early and popular case of this, but there were many other revisions. And it settled into a trend widely practiced today. I've published several revised mythic or fairy tale stories; "Sunniva" (revision of Cinderella); "Sennicherib," re-telling of a biblical narrative, a revision of "Aladdin," and a second one of that tale called "The Woman in the Lamp," one that involved the Greek play "Antigone," and several others. "The Fire Maiden" revised and changed the tale of the Greek god of the forge, Hephaestus; you may know him his Roman name, Vulcan. He was the blacksmith of the gods. 

Hephaestus had his forge under the volcano Mount Etna in Italy. Cyclopes made up his work crew. He hammered out weapons for the gods, forged Zeus' thunderbolts, made a shield for Achilles and jewelry and ornaments for Hera and the other goddesses. As later myths had it, he was misshapen, crippled, and ugly. Married to the beautiful, sexy Aphrodite, goddess of love-sex-sensuality, he constantly played the cuckold as she ran around with other gods, notably Ares. He was the butt of jokes because of this. In the Odyssey there is a story about how he made an invisible net, spread it over Aphrodite's bed, and, when they were joined in an embrace, pulled it up, caught them both, and displayed them for all the other gods to see. The joke was on Ares and Aphrodite, but during the episode Apollo leans over to Hermes and whispered, "Good joke, but I wish it was me up there with her, not Ares." Hephaestus just can't win.

popular depiction of Hephaestus

But if you look at the early myths, Hephaestus is not ugly or repulsive. He has love affairs with Aglaea, one of the three Charities and the Greek goddess of beauty, splendor, glory, and magnificence; with Gaia, the ancient Earth Mother; the goddess Aetna, and many others; he has a whole herd of children borne by incredibly beautiful goddesses. He had to have some good looks. And, of course, he married to Aphrodite. His revision from a handsome, desirable god to the "bandy legs" in Homer's story—the sooty, misshapen, ugly horned god of later legend—probably got started because he had a limp. Prometheus stole fire from his forge and gave the fire to humans. Zeus punished Prometheus but also took his anger out on Hephaestus, throwing him out of heaven, which hurt his feet and he had a slight limp after that. Zeus soon let him return, but his limp evolved into his transformation from a handsome god to the figure of a twisted, ugly outcast.

Dolenda, Temple Maiden

In this story, Hephaestus is in Persia. The Romans are about to invade, and the Persian king has hired him to make weapons for them in the hope that divinely-forged implements might repel the Romans. During that time, two of the women the king has sent to him get a fight,  and the king sentences them to death, Hephaestus intercedes for them and sends them to the Fire Temple to make an offering of atonement. When there, he sees Dolinda, one of the temple maidens, and is smitten with her. He is so taken with her that he comes in the form of a dream so he can look at her. She sees him in the dream, recognizes what has happened, and tells him Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, will be angry with him for looking upon her nakedness and invading a sacred place where only virgins were to be. Hephaestus knows as much, and he only looks upon her, unable to overcome his love for the girl.

Goddess Aetna

Sure enough, his ancient lover Aetna appears to him and tells him he is to come to her island to meet with Hestia—and Athena and Artemis—all virgin goddesses—to answer for his impropriety. He comes there. After enjoying a few days of love with the goddess from the volcano on Sicily, he goes to face his accusers. Hestia, who has always disliked her brother because some people worship him as god of the hearth rather than worshipping her, builds a case against him. Athena and Artemis chime in. They hope to get him thrown out of Olympus once more. Hephaestus sees that they have a pretty good case against him, but then Aetna intervenes. A primal goddess who existed before any of the trio of goddesses indicting Hephaestus, she shows them the fate of Dolinda. Her city will be conquered by the Romans. The other temple maidens commit suicide so they will not be be raped by invading soldiers, but Dolinda will not have the courage to plunge the knife into her heart. Aetna ends the vision with soldiers breaking into Dolinda's room.

This upsets the goddesses. Hephaestus offers a deal to Hestia. If she will give him the girl, who is dedicated to Hestia, he will marry her and save her from her fate. He will also withdraw his claim as a god of hearths, so that worship will go entirely to her. He will remain the god of forges. Hestia is content with this. The three goddesses return to Olympus. Hephaestus stays a few days with Aetna before he goesto marry, and rescue, Dolinda.

The story appeared in Legendary, a print book released by Jaffa Books, an Australian press. Get a copy here.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

Be on the lookout for two new titles, The Court of the Sovereign King and Sinfonia:  A Painted Lady:  A Vampire Chroincle, Part 2. Both are in production and will be released in the next months.

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #113: Songs and Self-Identity: "Out of Time"

I wrote the story "Out of Time" about my ongoing character, Sossity Chandler, a musician; and the story, like many stories about her, took the title of a song. The song was by the Rolling Stones, a band Sossity likes and frequently does their songs as covers. The character's love of their music  derives from mine. The Rolling Stones were the #2 band of the sixties, always in the shadow of the Beatles, but now that I have more musical perspective, I can see that they deserved to be recognized for their own accomplishment. The Beatles were a more creative group, but the Stones were better musicians and their blues-based approach is appealing to me, since I play the blues and perform them now and then in local venues. I, like Sossity, am a die-hard Rolling Stones fan. 

The story takes place right after her divorce. If you know Sossity's character biography, she marries, is happily married for six years, has two children, and then finds out her husband is having an affair—and not with just anyone, with Kathy Farisi, Sossity's old suite mate from college and a trusted. In another story, she explains, speaking of her husband, I find out he’s having an affair with my best friend. My best friend—my roommate from college and someone I loved like a sister. She taught where he taught. I helped her get a job there because she couldn’t find anything after she finished her graduate degree. So after all of that, the judge pretty much gives him our children half the time. She is in a sad state of mind over this and over talking to her son on the phone the previous day. Today, she is performing with her band on a talk show; the talk-show host will interview her afterwards. She is not in the mood to perform. 

While waiting for her band to join her in the lounge, she hears the talk show host and a guest discuss about how authors are often terrible readers. When they read their own books, they don't do a very good job of it. The guest points out that authors express themselves through their writing; this is the reason they are not good as readers or speakers. As she watches, Sossity realizes this is true about her—that she expresses herself through her music and, when she goes outside of those limits, finds herself at a loss. 

Her split with her husband has been devastating. She fell into binge drinking and almost died one time from alcohol poisoning; kicked the habit but then got back on the bottle, was arrested for drunk driving, spent a night in jail, and had her license suspended. Her melt-down has been trumpeted all over the internet. Stand-up comics make fun of her. She wants to lash out at her husband but her lawyers warn her that if she attacks him publicly, he might sue. She has refrained from criticizing him.  

Now, however, the dialogue on the talk show has given her an idea. She asks her band if they could do a last-minute change and rehearse a cover they had worked on yesterday. They agree, and she and her band perform the Rolling Stones number "Out of Time." The lyrics are appropriate to how she feels:

You thought I’d be your little girl
And fit into your social whirl
But you can't come back and be the first in line, oh no
You’re obsolete my baby
My poor old-fashioned baby
I said baby, baby, baby you're out of time

The song is directed at her ex-husband. When Sossity sits down with the show's host and asks her to whom the song she sang is aimed, she is evasive. "Wouldn't you like to know," she says. The woman asks if it might be to a man, whom she had known for six years. Sossity only smiles and tells her to draw her own conclusions. Sossity knows she has found a way to attack her ex-husband without fear of liability. She can do it through music. She will sing songs and never mention him by name, but, when questioned, will indirectly make it clear she is singing about him. Musicians express themselves through music. Music will be the means for her to express the hurt and pain her former husband has caused her. And she need never mention his name. 

The story appeared in Intellectual Refuge. Read it here.

Two new novellas of mine will soon be published:  Sinfonia: A Painted Lady, and The Court of the Sovereign King. More information soon.

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #112: Cinderella Revised: "Sunniva."

Disney Cinderella

Many people are surprised when the read the original versions of fairy tales. We get cleaned-up versions of them:  Walt Disney has made many old fairy-tales squeaky-clean; and we revise them so our children won't be upset or traumatized by these old stories. But reading the originals will shock and upset some people. In the original version of the "The Sleeping Beauty," the Prince finds the Princess asleep, enjoys the "first fruits of love" with the sleeping girl, and gets her pregnant. She gives birth to twins and wakes up when they begin to nurse at her breasts. Her father orders her killed, but the Prince shows up at the last moment to marry her. In "Cinderella," one of the stepsisters cuts off her toes so the slipper can fit; when the treachery of the sisters is revealed, doves peck out their eyes, leaving them blind. And most of the original tales of the Brothers Grimm … well, let's not talk about those. 

Dalin

My revision of the story of Cinderella, titled "Sunniva" takes the story in new directions. It is told from the point of view of the Prince. Here is another thing about several familiar fairy tales. The male protagonist in such stories doesn't even have a name, so he has become "Prince Charming." He comes out of nowhere, has no backstory, we know nothing about him, and yet he saves the day. I focus on his story, name him Dalin, and give his character a little bit of substance. Sunniva is quite different from the Cinderella of later versions.

Sunniva as a child

The story begins as Dalin, back from fighting in the crusader kingdom of Jerusalem, leads a campaign to put down a revolt. He is a capable fighter and overcomes the rebels, capturing their leader. As he is ready to execute the leader, his wife, Lissette, shows up and pleads for his life. Lissette was Dalin's mistress when he was a teenager and went on to marry the rebel. She says she knows where Sunniva is and will tell him if he spares her husband. He agrees. 

Dalin remembers how he met Sunniva. The kingdom in dire circumstances, suffering famine, plague, and impending invasion, the King, Dalin's father, summons Amalina, a sorceress, to help. She brings her daughter, Sunniva (her husband is in exile). She and the King make an arrangement. Her magic restores the health, prosperity, and military strength of the kingdom. Amalina and her daughter reside at the palace. The King makes Sunniva his ward. Dalin grows up with her and falls in love with her. Eventually, however, as Christianity gains more of a foothold in the kingdom, the King violates his word and dismisses Amalina. Because he made himself godfather to Sunniva, however, she stays on in the castle. Dalin's father tells him he will soon be married off to a local princess to cement an alliance with a neighboring kingdom. He despairs, wanting to marry Sunniva. She gives him an idea on how to avoid the marriage. 

Dalin announces his intention to take a vow obligating him to fight in the holy land for five years. His father wants to oppose him but can't go against religion; and Dalin is popular with the people, who are thrilled at his piety and willingness to fight for the cause. He departs.

The next five years hone him for the role of a ruler. By this time there is peace between the Crusaders and Muslims. Dalin fights as a mercenary, often serving Muslim leaders in their mini-wars with other Muslims. He learns to speak Arabic, to lead, fight well, and negotiate. Mysterious things happen that suggest Sunniva's magic is protecting him even at a distance of a thousand miles. After five years, he goes home but can find no trace of Sunniva until Lissette informs him that she is living with a family in a remote part of the kingdom. 

Dalin's father has boarded her with a cruel woman who has two not-very-bright daughters (sound familiar?). Sunniva tells Dalin she put up with their pernicious behavior for three years but of late has used her magic to get them in line. The mother has died. The two daughters, Anastasia and Drizella (their names in the original story) live in terror of her magic. Dalin is reunited with Sunniva. She tells him that king sent her to Arbritta's house hoping that the cruelty of the mother and sisters would break her spirit: “Someone told him the story of Cinderella, I guess...When I came here Arbritta, the mother, who has died, beat me and told me I would live as a slave and eat with the pigs. The first week I slept in the barn. They finally gave me a tiny, chilly room in the house to sleep in. I did all the housework while they lolled.” When Dalin asks why she put up with such treatment for three years she replies that suffering is good for the soul. 

Sunniva as an adult

He and Sunniva are married. He is reunited with Amalina and meets her husband, who has been released from exile. His brother treacherously tries to kill him, but he is rendered helpless by Sunniva's magic. In a few years, the King dies and Dalin ascend to the throne. His suffering through exile and separation from the woman he loves make him a fair, good, and just ruler. 

And, I guess, they all lived happily ever after.

The story appeared in Sorcerous Signals, which has ceased publication. This might be a story to resubmit.

I have two new books in production:  Sinfonia:  A Painted Lady, A Vampire Chronicle, Part 2, coming from Dream Big Books; and The Court of the Sovereign King, from Blue Swan Publications. Stay tuned for news of their releases.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #111: Music and horror: "The Ghost's CD."

If you have read my blog with any consistency, you know I write about music quite a bit, so I won't elaborate on how and why. You can dip in past posts and won't get very far until you read about my stories that deal with music and musicians, so the one I will discuss today is one of many. It is a horror story and appeared in one of the finest horror journals on the web, The Horror Zine. In The Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis talks about ghosts, spirits, and souls who cannot get into heaven and so lurk around the earth, their former home; one of the types he mentions are "library ghosts, who lurk in libraries to see if anyone is reading their books." If writer-ghosts are concerned about the writing they did while they were alive, do ghosts who were musicians show concern about the songs they did before they passed off the scene? My story "The Ghost's CD," suggests they indeed do.

"The Ghost's CD" is about a successful rock and roll singer name Alec McBride. Alec is the lead guitarists and, like Keith Richards, Eric Clapton, and many other successful guitarists, has studied and imitated the guitar styles of the old blues players who styles were foundational to rock and roll. They have hit it big with an updated recording of a song by a bluesman named River Coleman. They have ramped it up, rather like Clapton ramped up the Robert Johnson song, "Crossroads," doing it fast and with more contemporary cadences and rhythms. Alec objects to the major alterations to the song and wants to do it more traditionally, but the band overrules him. The recording goes on to be a major hit. Everything is going well for the band.

Well, almost everything. It seems like they have struck a streak of bad luck. One of the live-in girlfriends of a group member dies from an overdose. The stage collapses two weeks later, injuring Alec and some of the other band members. A couple of months after that, two groupie girls who have come home with the band members get the idea that stopping up the cold air returns in their rooms will keep them warmer. The house has an old-fashioned gravity furnace. When the cold air returns are blocked, carbon monoxide builds up and kills them. The band is exonerated of wrongdoing in the incident, but Alec is concerned at the series of misfortunes he and his colleagues are seeing unfold.

Grand Haven Pier in  winter

One night during a wild winter party in the Michigan beach town of Grand Haven, he walks out on the dock to clear his head and sees an older man there, playing blues guitar. It is cold, too cold to have a guitar outside let alone be playing it. It is dangerous to be on the pier in bad weather, but curiosity drives him on. He approaches the figure and stops to listen. They converse. Alec realizes it is River Coleman—his ghost. He congratulates him on how well he plays guitar and notes he is the only member of his band who has "respect" for the blues. Coleman tells Alec he does justice to his music; and adds, ominously, that whatever happens, justice will be done.

Alec does not understand about justice. He has no idea how to make his band render the song they did in a more traditional way. And it's too late to do that anyway. One night, Alec's girlfriend goes to bed. He goes to his studio to listen to some music by River Coleman. When he touches the button to CD, a jolt of electricity knocks him to the ground.

Alec realizes he has been hit hard. His right index finger is burned and he can barely breathe. But the CD by Coleman is playing. Then he hears Coleman's voice in his head, as he did on the pier at Grand Haven, saying he is coming for him. Though terrified, he can't get up. The jolt of electricity has immobilized him. He senses Coleman's ghost getting closer and soon sees him in the studio. Coleman appears and compliments him on how well he plays guitar and says he can tell Alec imitates his style. Alec asks if Coleman is going to kill him. The ghost of the blues players says he could have done that when the young man touched the CD controls. And he says he didn't come to kill him but to save him. He is worth saving because he has respect for the blues. The other members in the band, he says, don't. And when he says this he becomes scarier. Then he tells him, I think you’ll do fine on your own—doing your own stuff—maybe even throw in a little blues here and there.

Alex falls asleep and wakes up to find his parents, a police officer, and his girlfriend standing over him. They take him to ER and treat him for electrical shock. After he is released from the Emergency Room, they tell him the grim truth:  the other band members, whom he was supposed to join that night, were killed in plane crash on the way to Chicago.

The song they recorded by Coleman, already popular, becomes a mega-hit. His band joins the ranks of performers like Buddy Holly, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, who are cut off in the prime of their careers. Alec takes a year off to decide what to do. But he knows he will become a solo artist. He publicly announces he will never do the Coleman song again. He tells his girlfriend he will become a solo performer and not organize a new band.

He has it from a reliable source that he will be fine on his own, doing his own stuff, and maybe throwing a little blues in here and there.

The story appeared in The Horror Zine.  Read it here.

For more titles, check out my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, # 110: Ancient Myth as a Source: "The Iannic"

Iannic

An Iannic is a creature from the lore of the Celtic Bretons. Bretons live in an area of France called Brittany, which means "little Britain," and were ancient British who fled their native land and settled along the northern coast of France to escape the invading Anglo-Saxons. As such, they had their own native language, distinct from French and still spoken today, and a unique culture, though in many ways their culture has become "Frenchified." Still, they exist as a distinct minority; their language, one of the few Celtic languages that has survived to modern times, can boast near to a quarter of a million native speakers.

My story, "The Iannic," centers around a Celtic bard named Renfew. Of late, he has done well for himself, having been hired by many nobles to perform at banquets and parties. With the extra money he has accrued, he hires Cordelia, a local whore, to spend three days with him. He likes Cordelia and has it in mind to marry her. She has only plied her trade for about two years. As they are lying together, she asleep, he reflecting on the good fortune that has recently descended upon him, Roman soldiers kick down the door of his house and compel him and Cordelia to get dressed and come with them. "They're going to crucify us," Cordelia laments in despair; but they assure the two no harm will come to them, and Renfew cannot think of anything they might have done to bring about retribution.

Renfew

The Romans march them toward their camp. When they stop, Cordelia recognizes two of the soldiers who are her regular customers. They tell her and Renfew they have been brought to the camp because their Proconsul, Attius, has been taken captive by some sort of supernatural creature. The creature also killed three of their soldiers. They think Renfew, who knows the lore of the Celts so well, might help them to find out what the creature was that attacked them, why it is hostile, and how they might free their Proconsul. (A Proconsul was an official in Roman government who also commanded a military until; as such, the army had a political connection with the government and was less likely to rebel).

Hearing the creature's behavior, Renfew and Cordelia immediately know it is an Iannic—the spirit of a person who had drowned and was not given proper burial. The Iannic, they say, will call lou, lou, lou; if answered, it will leap half the distance to the person answering; if the person says more, it will leap to within a foot of them; if it hears another response, the Iannic breaks the person's neck. Cordelia is puzzled that the Iannic took Attius captive. Usually, they simply kill those they encountere. The Romans take them to the shore where the killing of the three soldiers and the kidnapping of Attius occurred.

Cordelia

The creature soon appears. They call to it and soon it has its hand on Renfew's neck. But despite its ghoulish, half-rotted form, Cordelia recognizes it as the ghost of Donella, who had worked with Cordelia as a prostitute, often servicing Roman soldiers. She appeals to her. Donella lets go of Renfew and tells the story of how she became an Iannic and why she kidnapped Attius rather than killing him.

Attius asked her to go a near-by island and service the Roman garrison there. She agreed, but during her time there, the Picts attacked. She fled into the wood but was intercepted by two soldiers, who raped and then drowned her. The Romans returned to bury their dead, but her body has drifted out to sea. It cames ashore after they left. Donella says, "For months my corpse has rotted, unburied, in the sun and rain. I walk the earth as rotting, loathsome fiend and will until I am given burial."

Cordelia and Renfew promise they will give her burial if she will return Attius. She doubts that she can ever rest because she is an Iannic, but they point out to her that she spared Attius and did not kill him, so she cannot be entirely doomed to an Iannic's fate. Iannics do not spare those they encounter. She returns Attius to his soldiers. The next day all of them take a ship to the island, find Donella's remains, and give her a proper burial. They return assured she has found rest.

The Romans pay Renfew well and the Proconsul promises him support and sponsorship. Renfew rides back with Cordelia, both on horses given as gifts. He will marry her if she will agree to his proposal; and he senses she already knows this and will accept his offer.

The story appeared in Dark Edifice and was reprinted in Danes Macabre. You can read it here.

For additional stories, check out my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #109: Spiritual Perspectives: "Qualities of Light."

Saint Ives, Cornwall, UK

The story "Qualities of Light" is what I consider my best story. What makes it that? Why do I think of it that way? All the things that I try to do and want to emphasize came together in that particular story. It embodies the values to which I hold; I managed to express them in the space of about 25 pages and do it with good style and in well-written paragraphs. There are times in the life of any artist—I've had this happen when I do music as well as in writing—when everyone comes together and, for some reason, you do everything well. So it was, at least in my estimation for this particular piece of fiction.

Sossity

It drew on two ongoing characters of mine. The secondary character, Sossity Chandler, appeared in many of my early stories. In fact, I published thirty-eight stories about her. She is a musician, a guitarist, who, after six years of struggle, failure, disappointment, and barely getting by financially, makes it big. The story "Qualities of Light" comes at a low point in her career, when she has landed in London after the collapse of a tour with popular rock singer Geri Muir. Sossity had hoped her opening for such a well-known figure in the music scene would boost her own career. Then Geri collapses and must be hospitalized for drug abuse, and the tour is cancelled. Sossity ends up in London and decides to live for a year and try to connect to the music scene in that city. But London is expensive. She looks for a place to stay and, answering an advertisement for splitting rent with someone, meets Heather Alabaster.

Anglican Nuns

Heather became another ongoing character. I've written stories about her and an as-of-yet unpublished novel with her as the main character. She is about as different from Sossity as she can be. She is a nurse and plans to be an Anglican nun after she finishes her nurses training. Very religious, straight-laced, a virgin, she stands in contrast to the rather loose behavior Sossity often exhibits. But neither of them has enough money to rent rooms in a house, so the two unlikely women move in together, truly an odd couple, and begin a year together as roommates.

"Qualities of Light" begins when they have lived in the same house about three months. Heather takes the train to the town of Saint Ives, UK, where she will be interviewed and, if she passes the interview, will be admitted next year as a postulant at the convent there (a postulant is someone who thinks she would like to become a nun but has not yet taken any vows; Maria in The Sound of Music is a postulant). Sossity goes with her.

Of course, Heather is nervous. The fact that Sossity is with her makes her even more nervous. When they encounter some of the nuns who will interview her on the streets of Saint Ives, she wonders what they will think of her for going around with Sossity, in her shorts and halter top, telling them she plays jazz and blues in nightclubs and bars. Sossity also takes up with a young man she meets (as she often does), which vexes Heather. She becomes judgmental and critical and increasingly alienated from her friend, thinking she may spoil her chances of being admitted to the convent.

Sossity, in the meantime, manages to get some gigs playing and local bars and makes quite a bit of money from the jobs and tips. She works hard, since the two women do not have money and don't know where their money for rent and food will come from next month. Sossity even busks on the streets. Heather goes about the business of preparing for the interview. She becomes uneasy when one of the nuns asks her several questions about Sossity and seems unduly interested in her. Heather catalogs Sossity's moral failings, noting that despite her many affairs with young men, she too is religious, always goes to church, and behaves most devoutly when there. Heather writes her off as a hypocrite and hopes being identified with her does not hurt her chances at entering the cloister.

Heather is admitted. She also finds out why one of the sisters asked so many questions about Sossity. One of them heard her play Celtic music in local pub where she went with her brother, whose daughter was getting married the next day. It was an outdoor wedding and their harp player backed out at the last minute. They ended up hiring Sossity to play and are thrilled at her ability and that she agreed to fill in for them.

After this, Heather has an epiphany:  a moment of realization such as one finds in James Joyce's stories. She realizes how judgmental, selfish, and rude she has been to her housemate. Sossity, who has worked incessantly to earn them money, supported and encouraged her in this trying time, and believed in her, has acted more the Christian than the convent-bound Heather.

On the way back from the wedding, heading for the train station. Sossity is elated. She has made enough money to sustain them for two months. Heather begins to cry. This scene follows:

On the way down, Sossity caught the expression on Heather’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

Heather fought back tears. “Sossity, sometimes I get glimpses what a vain, selfish pig I am—how judgmental and full of pride I can be. I often wonder why God doesn’t strike me from the face of the earth.”

“There are better candidates for that than you. I’d say I’m pretty near the top of the list.”

“I wouldn’t say that at all.”

Heather has realized how far short she falls of the Christian commandments to show love, grace, and gentleness. Sossity has taught her a spiritual lesson she very much needed to learn.

At the beginning of the story, Sossity is reading from a tourist manual that mentions how the city of Saint Ives has always attracted artists because of the "qualities of light" seen there. Heather has learned that there are different qualities of light—different ways of manifesting goodness and of doing good. Her narrow focus has caused her to fail to see light in someone else. As a nun, she will need to revise her thinking on how she evaluates people and to judge not lest she be judged.

The story appeared in Eunoia Review. Read it here.

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