Lots of Little Squiggles

Writing Process Blog Tour:

 Angela Koenig, Rebellion in Ulster & Rendezvous in the Himalaya

I was tagged for the Tour by Renee MacKenzie whose wonderful new book Nesting is now available. Renee is a fellow writer with Blue Feather Books. Please check out her blog My Writing Process at: http://reneemackenzie.wordpress.com

I’m going to shift the questions around a bit, so bear with me.

Why do I write what I do?

Because I can. I always wanted to write. I remember, before I could read, lying on my bed in front of an open window and making writing-like squiggles on a paper with a pencil. For years – decades – I never made a decision without factoring in that I wanted to write. Just how I found my voice is still a bit of a mystery to me, but at last the Muse (in her avatar as an Apple computer?) relented. Sometimes it feels like having a huge reservoir of images, words, and feelings but they just stay dammed up until the story comes that can channel them. Recently I heard someone say that you don’t just wake up and say, "Today I’m going to write like Virginia Woolf or George Eliot." Instead, you have to find how you can write. I’m an English major and I read a lot so I have no illusions that my little books will outlive me, but the little books I have are a dream come true.

How does my work differ from others in the same genre?

If that genre is Lesbian Adventure/Romance, I don’t think I do differ. I aim for a kind of Lesbian Jason Bourne who gets into hair-raising situations where the outcome is important but on a local rather than a save-the-whole-world level. It’s also important to me to put Lesbians into the history where so often we’re invisible. You know we must have been there in all those other times and places, so if necessary, imagine us there. I was profoundly moved by the true story of Aimée and Jaguar, to hear their own voices emerging from the enshrouding depths of denial that we are indeed everywhere. My heart breaks to remember their tragedy while I also rejoice to know of their love. I'm also furious at the disrespect of so many people who felt compelled, speaking of either the biography or the movie, to say that Felice and Lilly would never have stayed together had Felice lived. Please show me one instance of this said of a straight couple who were ripped apart by the Holocaust.

But back to genre. I think all stories are pieces of myth, and mythology is what makes human lives possible and meaningful. So each time one of us adds to “our genre” we confirm our potential to live fuller and richer lives, and I like being part of that.

What am I working on?

I’m editing Requiem for Vukovar, the third book in the Refraction series, of which there are four books, and also working on an entirely new novel. The new book is proving difficult, but the story and character have a hold on me so I will try to ignore my doubts. I’ll just keep going, if not one page at a time, then one paragraph at a time.

How does my process work?

I was stuck a while back with a story that just wouldn’t move and someone suggested imagining the characters climbing a hill. That worked. Before they got to the top I had at least half the book. Sometimes there is a particular scene that is like a seed and whole pages, even chapters, germinate from that. In addition, I read a lot to get background facts and color to make my stories ring true. And I always carry a notebook because you never know when you’ll get a phrase or a piece of dialog that is just right and can make the story move ahead. I also go over and over a piece of writing because it's too easy to assume that everything in your imagination has turned into words, but going back after time can show what's missing. I try to be sure that what I've said is also really true or possible. And then I read to make sure that I have the most accurate word and the best sentence rhythm.

 If all else fails, I start cleaning house as a writing avoidance because you’ll either go back to writing as a cleaning avoidance or at least you’ll get the dusting or the dishes done. Win-win.

I have enjoyed thinking "outside the book" so thank you, Renee for tagging me. 

In turn I am tagging Goldie Award winner Anne Laughlin, the amazing author of Veritas and Runaway. Anne has a new book coming out this fall, Acquittal.

I would also like to tag Kelly Sinclair, another Blue Feather writer, and author of the wonderful Tantona Trilogy. Her latest novel is In the Now.

Gemstone: Sea-dark Sapphire

Philomena: A Tale in Two Tellings

Philomena, the movie, is not that unusual for being loosely based on the book, The Lost Child of Philomena Lee, but the difference between the two highlights how a shift of focus obscured an unusually clear insight into recent American politics. Rarely since the fate of nations ceased being subject to the whims of princes has one life shown so directly the lines of causality linking an individual tragedy and social calamity.

Philomena the movie tells the story of an unwed Irish mother whose son was born at a time when Catholic American families, who paid significant sums for the privilege, adopted children from Irish religious institutions that sheltered young women during their pregnancies. The mothers, pressured by shame and isolation, were more or less forced to sign papers allowing their children to be adopted and taken out of Ireland. From her boy’s birth until the age of three, Philomena worked in the convent and was allowed to spend limited time with her son. Then he was abruptly taken away. After decades during which she never forgot the child, Philomena began a search that took her to America. Dame Judy Dench plays Philomena as a woman whose heart and dignity weigh more than her lack of familiarity with the ways of the world.

The Lost Child of Philomena Lee, on the other hand, tells the story of her son, Anthony, given the name Michael by his American family. While Philomena’s story is a tale of heartbreak and injustice, Michael’s is a tragedy rooted in the original Irish injustice that branched out into immeasurable consequence for America. Michael was a bright child troubled throughout his life by his orphan’s belief that he must be something horrible if his mother had abandoned him. His wordless feelings of loss and insecurity were exacerbated by his adoptive father’s chronic disapproval throughout his life.

By itself, Michael’s psychology would make an intriguing story, particularly as he struggled with his growing awareness of being gay. Both his religion and his nation practiced a particularly rabid homophobia; but despite cultural and personal pressures, Michael still managed at least a closeted gay life even though his relationships were often sabotaged by bouts of self-destructive behavior. However, the story of Michael the complicated individual began to assume larger dimensions after he graduated from George Washington Law School and began working in Washington DC.

Michael’s legal interest focused on congressional redistricting and got him a job first with a group that claimed to be nonpartisan but which actually leaned toward Republicans. His personal liberal beliefs were buried deep when he was offered work with the Republican National Committee in the Reagan Administration. I believe it is largely forgotten how solidly the plank of gay-bashing was nailed into the Republican platform by the GOP’s alliance with the Christian Right, and how open homophobia was part of Reagan’s successful campaign strategy.

Like many gay Americans of the time, Michael’s double life permitted him to ignore the nation’s prejudice and accept the privileges that came with success. He had made himself a legal expert in the arcane area of redistricting. Initially, he had been attracted to how current law could curtail the practice of gerrymandering which set up voting districts so that one party was favored over another, but as a lawyer for the Republican National Committee, Michael’s work focused on strategies to bring Republicans to power and solidify their hold on Congress. Arguably, the fear of being outed probably made Michael even keener to serve well his masters who were versions of the affable, smiling, new cowboy President. Michael rose in the ranks until, at 32, he became deputy chief legal counsel to the RNC; and he and his partner could afford a weekend home in the country near Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, where they entertained friends who were also young, handsome, and successful.  

AIDS brought American homophobic demagogues a powerful weapon. People who had already accepted the demonizing of homosexuals were now horrified to learn that this nest of vipers was sowing a killer plague throughout the country. Ronald Reagan maintained his personal hypocrisy of allowing gay friends from Hollywood to stay in the White House while ignoring the health crisis raging in the nation. At the center of power in the GOP, it was understood that campaigns against abortion and homosexuals were not beliefs just useful strategies, but Reagan’s silence gave the homophobes permission to preach hate. Jerry Falwell of the Christian Right, Gerry Hauer, Pat Buchanan and the Moral Majority, William Bennett, William F. Buckley – these were all Republican luminaries who supported talk of mandatory testing of homosexuals and possible quarantine camps.

I personally believe that what stopped this slide toward fascism was the courage of the men and women who became active for their own survival in groups like ACT UP. All too heartbreakingly slowly, people in America became aware that it wasn’t demons who were dying of AIDS, it was their brothers, sons, friends, fathers and neighbors. People they knew and loved. People who came out to support each other with their expertise and experience. Unfortunately, Michael was not one of those who participated in demands that changed national policy. He became even further embedded in the GOP as he became Chief Legal Counsel to George H.W. Bush. Yet the sense of being a fake, the imposter who was the cast-off illegitimate Irish orphan, once again sabotaged him. Initially he had tested negative with the HIV virus, but a spate of risky, self-destructive sexual behavior left him positive. Michael died of AIDS.

This is the story that Philomena the movie obscures and distorts. Serious questions, about political hypocrisy, the justification for outing, or the influence of religion in the affairs of nations like Ireland and the US, are never asked. The repercussions of redistricting that Michael’s work had on the current Congress are not discussed. Instead we are treated to the sentimental story of one woman’s suffering and, with maddening but cliché sexism, the evil in the film is personalized in an elderly nun, the least powerful figure in the institutional hierarchies. Michael’s fate and that of hundreds of Irish children sold to Catholic families in America could not have occurred without the connivance and collaboration of a male priesthood and the state policies of two countries.

Of late, I see that Philomena Lee has visited Pope Francis and reportedly forgiven him. Something like that. The journalist in the movie claims not to do “personal interest” stories. It’s a shame and a loss that this rule was not followed by the moviemakers.

Gem: Pearls