I almost missed the ubiquitous Mother's Day blog post, what I lovingly refer to as the blahhhhg. The day came a week early this year--just as easter came a couple weeks later than usual. However, after being quite busy with finishing the semester, going to final concerts, etc., I eventually got around to calling Mom. Instead of the sound of her voice I got a recorded message saying the number had been changed. My own mother changes her number and doesn't tell me. Well, maybe that was the point. As an only child it is especially painful. Long story short, too many prank phone calls caused them to change the number (No, none of those calls were from me.) and the ever-present gremlin named "Ill-get-to-it" tricked her so completely. The ruse lasted a week. I did, by today, finally tell her to have a happy day--belatedly but with correct grammar.
I also mentioned to her that this past week I seemed to have established some kind of future for a book that I wrote--although not the science-fiction tome this blog is designed to enhance. Yes, I also write "literary fiction," a form of storytelling that is generally contemporary and true to life, typically relationship tales and such. My entry is a novel titled A Beautiful Chill, about which I have devoted a few blog posts in the past. (Here) and (Here, too). It seems important now to mention it, so I am. Because I struggle to balance my cocky, overly confident side with my humble, modest side as a writer, I am walking a fine line in this post.
If I were to dream of success as a writer of fiction (I did try that as a writer of poetry and fell short), this is the novel I would hold up as the example of my best writing. Part of that is due to the subject matter of the book, which lends itself to a certain style which might be called aloof, disinterested, haughty, distant. When dealing with the creation and manipulation of two protagonists it seemed the best way to proceed.
Though it is, by definition, fully fictional, I have like most writers borrowed liberally from the environment surrounding me. That is, the setting in the novel approximates the setting of the place in real life. The characters in the novel are smashed compilations of several real people I encountered when writing the novel. (Send an SASE for the breakdown of characters by real life person.) Much research was conducted--as much, I felt, as for the dissertation I would later write on composition and identity--and incorporated into the minds, motives, and behavior of the two lead characters: a free-spirited female artist born in Iceland and nearly ruined in the strip clubs of Toronto, and a stodgy male English professor who wishes to break out of his conservative life. They struggle to find a balance in their awkwardly realized relationship. Opposites attract, people say, but the other half is that they seldom can stay together. A Beautiful Chill explores this concept in touchingly lean prose and alternating perspectives.
I just wanted to post something about my literary novel A Beautiful Chill. Now I shall return to the other side and continue dabbling in hysterical hyperbole. Thank you very much.