Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor

Thanks to my friend and award-winning writer, Geraldine Mills, I have been invited to participate in an online literary blog chain called The Next Big Thing. It is a series of questions about my work-in-progress. Many national and international writers have participated in this. It gives readers a glimpse into the working life of a writer. Part of the fun is tagging someone else. It is with great delight that I will be tagging three other writers at the end of this post. My next big thing is twofold. I have a brand new collection of poetry coming out on February 15, 2013. I’m also working on a novel.

What is the working title of your book?
Necessary Silence is the title of my collection of poetry. Scarab is the working title of my novel-in-progress.

Where did the idea come from for the book?
I was in line at the Associated Writing Program (AWP) Conference some years ago. A Vietnamese man in front of me checked in, and I overheard him give the hotel clerk a distinctly Irish name. I started thinking about this. He gave me the idea for my main character.

What genre does your book fall under?
My collection of poetry is…..poetry. My novel will be literary, character-driven fiction.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I love this question. Since I can’t cast poetry, I will imagine my novel as a movie. I’m fond of the idea of Meryl Streep as my female character’s mother. Natalie Portman can be the female character. I think her combination of sharp intelligence and intuition would be perfect. The male character is harder since he is half Vietnamese and half Irish. I’ll leave that up to Hollywood!

What is a one-sentence synopsis of your book?
We all have both internal and external wounds.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

My collection of poetry was eight years in process before publication. I’ve been working on the fiction manuscript in some form for about two and a half years.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

My literary heroes include Colum McCann, Barbara Kingsolver, Russell Banks, Ursula Hegi, and many others. I strive to learn from them but really can’t think of a book that is of a similar style.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I’m always inspired by friends who have written fiction, including Kimberly Newton Fusco, Morgan Callan Rogers, and Geraldine Mills. I also wanted to write something that would raise awareness about mental illness and our justice system.

What else about your book might pique a reader’s interest?

I hope my poetry resonates with my readers. I am striving to have that same level of intensity with my fiction–the idea of seeing the world in all of its beauty and ugliness and not looking away, even for a minute.

When and how will it be published?
I am thrilled that my collection of poetry has been published by a wonderful Irish literary press, Arlen House. It will be released in the United States through Syracuse University Press. I do not have a publisher for my novel since it is not yet finished. I aspire to finish the first draft by the end of the summer.

It is my honor to tag and introduce you to three writers, Kimberly Newton Fusco, Jane Katch, and Jennifer Hauf.

Kimberly Newton Fusco is the author of three young adult books, including a new one to be released in February by Knopf. Her previous books are Tending Grace and The Wonder of Charlie Ann. She’s won a Parent’s Choice Silver Medal and one of her books was chosen as a Bank Street Best Children’s Book of the Year. She is a current Nutmeg Book Award nominee in Connecticut. http://www.kimberlynewtonfusco.blogspot.com

Jane Katch is the author of three nonfiction books, Under Deadman’s Skin, They Don’t Like Me and her newest book, Far Away from the Tigers. She is a veteran teacher at a school in Massachusetts and has presented lectures and workshops at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, Tufts University, Wheelock, and Lesley College. Her latest book is about foreign adoption. http://www.farawayfromthetigers.wordpress.com

Jennifer Hauf is a young new writer. Her blog http://www.spokesandpetals.wordpress.com caught the attention of a publisher who will be publishing her first book, a work of nonfiction about the relationship between the natural world and the urban environment. A “transplant from the upper midwest”, she is curious about the wild things that exist in urban spaces.

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     It has taken me weeks to begin to write anything that makes mention of the random violence at Sandy Hook.  I am working on a novel in which one of my characters is an attorney for the ACLU, defending the mentally ill; people who commit crimes so heinous that no one else will take them on.  There is not a lot of sympathy for these people, only a kind of disbelief that such evil can exist in the world.  Like most people, I was deeply disturbed by the events that took place in a school in Connecticut, a place where children should be safe.  I work in schools regularly as a writer-in-residence.  Days after the shooting,  I was in a third grade classroom and I noted just how small the children seemed, a mere two years older than the victims.  Like many, I shed tears for the families, their beautiful children taken from them in this horrific way.  Still, I struggle with our society’s desire for assault weapons, and I fail to understand those who assert second amendment rights as if our founding fathers could ever have conceived of the sophisticated weaponry of the twenty-first century.  More protection has not made us safer.  I shudder at the possibility of schools with armed guards or worse, armed teachers.  I do not claim to understand why our country has become known in this dubious way but I would prefer to live in a society where only law enforcement and military personnel carry weapons.

 Mental illness does not absolve one of responsibility for a crime nor should it.  It just raises our awareness of the role of society in both recognizing and treating the mentally ill.   The stigma of mental illness and the continuing discoveries about the complexity of the brain hinder many from receiving adequate treatment.  This may not have prevented this crime but it could help with future acts of violence.  It is human nature to want answers when something of this magnitude occurs.  We want an assurance that it won’t happen again, that we’ve addressed the issue and our children will be safe.  Fortunately our children are safe most of the time.  

 I don’t know what any of the adults could have done differently that day.  The bravery of the teachers was awe-inspiring.  None of us can foresee how we would act in such a crisis.  All of them did everything possible to protect the children.  Lives were saved because of their courage and quick thinking.  Community, national, and international support poured in from those who were once again reminded of just how fragile we are, how our hold on this life and the lives of those we love is tenuous.  Each tragedy brings us closer to understanding that we must act as one community.  Creating bigger, faster, deadlier weapons has made this a more dangerous country.  Australia enacted aggressive gun control in 1996 following the deadliest mass shooting in their history.   The firearm homicide rate fell by 59% and the firearm suicide rate fell by 65%.  Over 600,000 guns were destroyed at a cost of nearly a half -a-billion dollars.  The result: you are 15 times more likely to be killed by a gun in the U.S. than in Australia.  There has not been a mass shooting since 1996 in Australia.   I am sure there were rumbles from people about losing certain freedoms.  I believe that a majority saw the benefit later.  Does freedom require a weapon?  Can we retain our individual choice without the ability to own guns?  I am no authority on this subject, having never owned a weapon.  I prefer words with occasional sharp edges and explosive punctuation.  It is the only tool for change I have.

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As we recover from two catastrophic weather events in the northeast, Hurricane Sandy and Nor’easter Ari, we are reminded of both our powerlessness  and our strength.  The  stories of courage and the outpouring of support are inspiring.  Why is it that crisis seems to bring out the best in people?  As friends struggle with damaged homes, weeks without heat or power, and so much loss, I think of the balance of dark and light that is a part of our lives:

Shoreline, Winter  (this poem was first published in the chapbook Insufficient Thanks, Finishing Line Press, 2012)

It’s hard to tell the difference between sky and sea today,
a jagged line of snow competes; horizon, liquid, solid
and something in between

the way that darkness and light compromise in mid-winter,
afternoon a murky version of early morning,
the world becoming simpler,

a decision to wear galoshes or splash whiskey
into a cup of tea.
Everywhere vague beauty, halo of mist, undertow,

and untouchable creatures below the surface
where once I ventured, curious and unbroken.

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The leaves are beginning to turn burgundy and gold.   A few strays have already blown into my garden and across the driveway, harbingers of what is to come.  After a summer of writing and traveling, I am back to my many responsibilities in my varied and ever-changing career.  My classes are wonderful, filled with creative and willing students who want an opportunity to be heard.  I hope to help them to see learning not as something static but as an opportunity to move forward and find relevance.  These are hard times for many.  The economy isn’t improving fast enough.  Students are stressed by all the debt they are incurring to get an education that won’t always yield a job.  Still there will always be a place for innovators.  I love teaching critical and creative thinking because I think it is paramount students understand how the world and the workplace  has changed.  There isn’t a place for passive thinkers.  The workers of the future will be able to multi-task and won’t be afraid to come up with outrageous ideas.  They will bring passion to the table.  I feel privileged to help students explore the different ways in which a person can approach a task.  In writing, I strive to take risks, write out of my comfort zone.  Working on a novel this summer was challenging.  There were many narrative voices I had to keep in my head.  I found I loved the process.  After a while, the characters spoke to me and they would let me know if I was doing it wrong.  Though I’ve been a poet for a long time, writing fiction is an entirely different venture.  These new challenges keep me from stagnating as a writer.  As we hunker down for the colder weather here in New England, may we also take the time to bring the same changes to our creativity.  We’re fond of saying  if you don’t like the weather here, wait a minute.  If you don’t like the way your life is going, wait a minute–or better yet, change it.  Walk a different route.  Eat something you’ve never before tried.  Try to learn a language or an instrument.   Write as if your life depended upon it.  Don’t be afraid of darkness.  “Don’t tell me the moon is shining/show me the glint of light on broken glass.”  (Anton Checkhov)  I will also try. 

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From my writing studio, I can see the Gihon River.  Last night’s thunderstorm and subsequent rain swelled the river, its rushing reminding me of what I’ve left behind.  Here the pace of the day is defined by words and art.  I get to my studio in the morning and stay here most of the day.  Outside my window, the ducks fish and lush trees green the landscape. Evenings are for reading, talking to writers and artists, going to art talks or readings.  I have been here over two weeks.  The rhythm of the days now feels soothing to me.  Having so many hours of quiet has allowed me to hear the voices of my characters, observe the nuance of summer flowers, and just think.  What a civilized way to live.  I know I will soon return to myriad responsibilities.  I will now do it with a better sense of balance and the knowledge of what I can accomplish with time, a beautiful space, and fellow artists who believe, as I do, that this is the important and necessary work. 

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Rushing from here to there and caring for this and that has prevented me from the important work of fully experiencing the world in which I live.  On Saturday, a boat ride to a Boston harbor island revealed a flicker, seagulls, a red-winged blackbird, and a family of raccoons foraging in the shallows.  Chamomile and beach roses grew by the rocky shore. The industry of Boston was a small distance away. How I miss the sea.  Sometimes I awaken with the sound of foghorns in my mind, the tang of salt beckoning.  

I am embarking on a month long residency.  There will be no sea but there will be mountains and abundant time to write.  What will be discovered when there are fewer distractions?  So many artists must fit their art into small spaces of time because we all must make a living.  I am the kind of writer who needs to be out there in the world as much as I need solitude.  It’s all about the balance.  

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The first time Geraldine Mills came to see my landscape, a vibrant rose-colored shrub lined the walkway to our house that October.  I had no name for it so she named it in a poem.  I have since found out possible names which include burning bush, winged euonymous, and spindle tree.  My favorite is winged euonymous which sounds a lot like anonymous.  I like the idea of anonymous rose-colored wings.  Last March, the weather was chilly and cloud-covered.  Today, it felt like sunny July.  Even the insects are confused.  Ants and mosquitos have come out of hiding.  Crocuses and daffodils decorate front yards as if frost was nowhere in their future.  I have lived in New England long enough to know that one can fall asleep to summer-like breezes only to awaken to winter chill.  Still, there’s something unsettling about a winter that never caused the roadways to crack or the air to smell like an impending snowstorm.  Ask someone from Florida what snow smells like and they will probably think you’re a little touched in the head but it really does have a smell.  It’s a combination of cold and clean.  Sheer loveliness the first time.  I can still summon up the excitement I felt as a child when I knew snow would interrupt routine.  There’s nothing I like better than an unexpected interruption where suddenly time spreads out in front of me and I can wrap myself in a blanket and read a good book.  Now that spring has arrived, the neighborhood is buzzing with people walking dogs, cleaning out gardens, fixing gutters. The longer days fold into leisurely evenings on porches and in backyards.  There are words for every season.  The smell of winter, winged euonymous with blushing leaves, an awakening: two hawks mating overhead on our evening walk, and the earthworms aerating the soil for basil, hyacinth, tomatoes, day lilies.  Time seems to speed up in the springtime and I find myself longing to slow down, savor mud smells and the rustle of chipmunk in the brush.  Instead I record what I can, always remembering that imagination holds all the senses and seasons.  

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Sharing dinner, talking across a table on a chilly evening, taking a night walk to see the constellations bejewel the February sky, bringing lunch to a friend–all these things and many unnamed help to establish the kind of connection that is sustenance and inspiration. Still there are loved ones far away and I’ll read email and Facebook, grateful to live in a time when communication flexes its muscles. Distraction is everywhere. I remind myself to check the river on my ride to the store. Is it low this snowless winter? Waning water may mean fewer fiddleheads in the spring. I see fox and deer sticking their pointy noses into soil that should be frozen but isn’t. The light is coming back. I beckon it like I call to the sea. Can I store the light for the darker times? Many people are going through hardship–lost homes, jobs that disappear, working more for less and counting ourselves lucky to have work at all.  Still I long for quiet mornings and free afternoons. Then I hear a student connect a poem to a life transition or a teacher ask for resources to do a unit on metaphor and sound. I want to be able to convey my passion for words but realize also that connection and slowing down are paramount for everyone.

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I feel conscious in my daily life, pausing to look out the window frequently, noting the mounting piles of leaves slick with rain, and the way the sky looks like an old barn door this afternoon. What do I miss? I read at a Not for Sale event;  this is an organization that raises awareness about child trafficking and slavery around the world. We can all be abolitionists, the organizer said. It’s as simple as knowing where your clothes are made and where your food is grown. I can buy Free Trade coffee and chocolate from companies who pledge not to employ or exploit child workers. Thinking of the women and children sewing garments or parts of athletic shoes is enough to make me try to be aware of the history of what I am buying. It’s challenging. We are often rushed and stressed. Money is tight. When we buy local, we help our own communities. When we consume less, we help the world. It’s a paradigm shift like the Occupy Wall Street movement. Success used to be about having the most money. Isn’t that what it means to be successful? Some of us are rethinking the obscene amounts of wealth that seem to be in the hands of few while many suffer. A lot of us have seen our own savings dwindle. Others have lost houses or jobs. Afraid to speak up lest we become the next target, we hold onto what we can and watch the inequities around us. Consciousness is visual, mental, tactile, oral, and auditory. We can look, listen, speak, think, and make choices. It is easy to become overwhelmed with the challenges of life yet looking outside oneself is both necessary and healing. It is free and powerful. These are not simple problems but I have to believe that individuals can make a difference. I choose to believe that my words and actions will matter.

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