Ambiguity

21 February 2004 | Comments Off

Re: Cover of the Solitaire trade paperback.
It is striking and hits the right emotional chord for the book. (Although oddly as I sit and consider it now, it does not seem to relate much to the story itself.)

Re: Solitaire
I really enjoyed the novel. It really struck an emotional chord with me. A couple of things that I found interesting:

  • The virtual confinement environment was in many ways similar to the peaceful environment that I try to visualize when meditating.

  • It took me a lot of thinking, a little therapy, and a lot of 12 step meetings before I found that (for myself anyway) there was tremendous personal growth in the process that Jackal succinctly summarizes as “I turned over every single rock inside myself and found all the worms. And then I ate them”. I’m curious if you saw the effects of Jackal’s experience in VC as positive or negative. I thought the novel was somewhat ambiguous on that point. I saw a lot of emotional growth, a refined sense of self, a better personal boundaries come out of the experience even though the way she came by that growth left its own emotional scars. (Doesn’t it always seem to work like that!)

  • Reading your website I noticed that you mentioned that you had gotten some feedback that your male characters were weak. I did notice all seem to be very secondary characters and a lot of them, while not evil in any sense, seem to betray someone in some fashion. I cannot decide if in the end this gave the book an unbalanced feel or not, certainly it was not grossly out of balance evidenced by the fact I cannot make up my mind.

Just a completely random thought that popped into my head, was there every any discussion of marketing Solitaire as a young adult novel? I only ask because I noticed it has many of the characteristics of some of the better ones.

Sorry to ramble on so long and probably quite disjointedly. I really enjoyed your novel and will be keeping my eye open for both your past and your future work. Keep writing.

All the best.
Rob

It’s always nice to know when someone enjoys Solitaire enough to want to read something else I’ve written. If you’ve poked around on the site, you know that some of my published stories (updated in 2008: “Strings”, “And Salome Danced” and “Dangerous Space”) and several essays are available, but there’s no harm reminding people.

I agree with you about the cover, and I think an emotional connection is more important than a factual/textual one. I suppose that’s because for me the heart of any story is emotional. I am pleased to have had two covers that do this, rather than simply sending a pure “marketing” signal — like, for example, all those courtroom thrillers with gavels or jury boxes on the cover, or chick lit in pastel colors with the titles in curly writing. When a reader sees Solitaire in the bookstore, she may know what it isn’t (chick lit, for sure), but she won’t know exactly what it is — and curiosity is a powerful force.

No one ever discussed marketing Solitaire as a young adult novel, at least not with me. I’m curious to know what you think the YA characteristics are (that’s a real question, not a defensive one — I have great admiration for good YA fiction).

As far as I can tell, the only person in the book who doesn’t betray someone on some level is Snow, and that may only be because there was no practical reason. Snow’s quite pragmatic.

If by ambiguous you mean that the book doesn’t tell the reader how to feel about a particular experience, then Solitaire is ambiguous in many (perhaps most) respects. That’s deliberate. I think very few important experiences are purely positive or negative in the long term, partly because there are very few (well, I can’t think of any) experiences that aren’t susceptible to the influence of joy or love or fear. These are the “big three” world-shapers in my pantheon; the way they jostle and recombine in particular situations is something that interests me in life and work. I think the jostling is where the scars come from, as well as the strokes and thumps we all give each other in the everyday world. And yep, I agree with you that’s how growth works in the human world, although I do believe it’s possible to grow without fear if, well, if we weren’t so afraid to. There goes that snake, eating its tail again.

Cheers, and thanks for these interesting comments.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, friday pint, talk to me, writing 

Inspiration

20 February 2004 | Comments Off

Hi Kelley

I discovered Solitaire to be a fascinating story and a memorable reading experience. What inspired you to write the book? Good success with your future writings and endeavors. Have a marvelous week.

Best,
Mary

I’ve talked some about this recently, although ideas and inspiration are not always the same thing. Ideas are easy, and inspiration is unreliable. Art and craft are hard. I suppose for me it comes down to sheer stubbornness. There are feelings or dynamics or states of being that I want to explore, and so I bash my head against the word wall until I find the story (the people, the situations, the choices and consequences) that seems the best vehicle. That’s such a long and iterative process that I can’t really pinpoint when it gelled for Solitaire.

Sadly, I’m not going to have a much better answer to this question for the next book (current shorthand for which is the Kansas book). It’s been mulching in my head for over a year now, and is the same in essence, and different in detail, than what I began with. Where did it come from? Nicola says it comes from my fascination with notions of rebirth (and you thought it was just about Kansas, grin).

Now the book after the Kansas book (the mountain book), well, hah! I know exactly where that one came from. Nicola and I took a short but lovely trip here last fall, and several different moments rubbed up against each other in my brain and conspired to give me the whole package at once, character and story and feelings, like a present in a pretty blue bow. This has never happened to me before, and strikes me as a rare and precious thing.

I hope you have a good week too.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, friday pint, talk to me, writing 

Web

20 February 2004 | Comments Off

Hello Ms. Eskridge (not Mrs.!),

As you could probably guess, I just read Solitaire the other day, and thought it was excellent. The central section, where Jackal deals with VC, was harrowing, and I appreciated the unusualness of a SF novel about business management. I wouldn’t have thought that subject could hold my interest, but it did. (Of course the book was about other things too.)

My only question about the book is: What exactly is a web? At first I thought it was a group of age-mates, all the people on the island who were born in the same year, or something like that. But then at one point someone tells Jackal that her web was lucky to have the cool house that they did, and it seemed like a web must be smaller than I’d thought. Is it just a randomly-selected subset of Jackal’s age-mates?

Thanks for writing such a good book, and I look forward to reading more of your novels.

Daphne

You’re right about the web — they are roughly the same age, probably in a 4 or 5 year spread just so they have a spectrum of experience among themselves. I think the part you’re referring to is that Jackal’s parents had a nice house, “a special growing-up place for the special child of Ko.”

It’s interesting to me how many readers comment on the business aspect of the book. I’ve always found it wacky to extrapolate a future without business (not to mention housework, utility bills, dentistry, volunteerism, menstruation….). Seems to me these things will always be with us.

I’m glad you enjoyed the book.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, friday pint, talk to me 

The naming of things

7 February 2004 | Comments Off

Hello Mrs. Eskridge. So… I was reading Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers last night and turned to page 270 and nearly had a heart attack. The Eye of the Storm by Kelley Eskridge. I couldn’t believe it. Eskridge! You see my last name happens to be Eskridge.

I read your story and enjoyed it very much. Because the name Eskridge is not as common as the names Smith and Jones I really got excited. I’m a freshman at Smith College in Northampton, Ma. and I truly enjoy writing. I’m also taking several acting classes this semester and I read that you studied theatre. For the past several years, my sister and I have been curious about our last name. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to make any sense of the history connected to this mysterious surname. When I saw that you shared this unusual name, had a career as a writer and was familiar with theatre I thought it was just too many similarities to pass up.

Well I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I thank you for taking the time to read my question… comment rather.

It turns out there are more Eskridges in the world than you might imagine. I can tell you a few things about us, at least my part of “us.” My family probably came to America from the north of England. If you look at a map, in the northeast part of England you’ll find a town called Whitby located on the River Esk. It’s hilly country there, and it’s an easy guess that some of the people living on the ridge over the river became Eskridges. Actually, Nicola informs me that there are two or more rivers named Esk in the UK, but this one is my favorite. Apparently river names are some of the few surviving words of Celtic (as opposed to Anglo-Saxon) origin: esk comes from uisc, which we think means life, and if it doesn’t, it should. It’s also the root word of whiskey.

Edited to add in 2008: It turns out that we Eskridges are historical! George Washington’s middle name was Eskridge. Here’s why. (/edit)

We Eskridges also have an entire town in Kansas, which tickles me. Imagine, a place where we never have to spell our last name for anyone.

I hope you’re enjoying Smith College. One of my first paying jobs was at the Tri-County Fair at the Northampton Racetrack. I was fascinated by the horses, the jockeys, the self-contained world of racing. Watching jockeys was one of the first times I remember actively noticing how someone moved. And I liked Northampton. This was about a thousand years ago, so I’m sure much has changed, but I hope that you can still lose a few hours in an old house with small rooms and no right angles that has been turned into a secondhand bookstore, and then go have a grinder and a beer.

The naming of things has a certain power, doesn’t it? I find it peculiar to be called Mrs. Eskridge, and in fact even if Nicola and I did marry, I still wouldn’t want to be called Mrs. It’s too much of a possessive, and while I don’t mind giving, I prefer not to be owned. I also hate sharing my name. For a while my stepbrother was married to a woman named Kelly who took our name, so there were two Kell(e)y Eskridges in the family. Then my dad and stepmother adopted a dog named Kelly, at which point I had a polite tantrum on the phone. There wasn’t much I could do about the sister-in-law, but I figured the dog would have to be flexible (she became Chloe, and lived a long and happy life). It was interesting to find myself being so territorial about it. But names matter: not just our given names, but the ones that people hang on us, the nicknames or category labels. These things give or take away social and cultural and personal power. What we call people, what we call ourselves, makes a difference.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, life 

Bold cows

4 February 2004 | Comments Off

Within your response to Sirene you said:

I started writing poetry when I was about eight. A few years later I was fortunate to have teacher who was passionate about classic poetry forms, and taught me the structure, rhythms and rhymes of sonnets, haiku, cinquain, sijo, ballad… there may have even been villanelle in there, I don’t remember. She was the first person besides my parents who actively encouraged me.

Before anything else I loved Solitaire! This in more in the nature of a comment than a question. Sirene has hit on many of the things I loved about Solitaire and I would only add that the setting/s were interesting and real. I especially liked the uniqueness of the idea of the virtual prison and the twist on reentering the world.

I was surprised to learn that you have written a lot of poetry, especially using the different forms. I suppose real writers are the people who are able to follow the rules.

Being in a poetry workshop, we tried a villanelle at some point and I loved the experience. Unfortunately that poem got lost and of course I can’t recreate it. It was about the record industry and the progression of ways that music was recorded and sold. I chose this subject to go along with the rhythm of the form and it was quite fine and I’m sorry that I can’t find it.

I haven’t had as good results in other forms, must be my general resistance to rules. I am hoping to do better this year when we start up the poetry workshop again. The one member who was really into forms won’t be able to join us as she is a teacher and most of her time is devoted to all that that takes. I’ve truly missed her input for the last couple of years in the workshop since she got a steady gig at West High. Each person gives something different to the process and now I feel like a big piece is missing to bringing valuable critique of my writing.

I was heartened to learn how much work you put into your writing. I’ve heard from other writers that they have to work hard too with only the occasional person saying that it flowed out of them like honey. ;-) I was also a bit surprised at your comment about inspiration but thinking about it I have to agree. I have been inspired by many things and not able to create the very thing I have in mind. This was weighing heavily on me, making me think that I was some bold cow thinking I could write at all. So I guess this is also a long winded thanks for the kick in the butt. I guess I won’t give up just yet.

Sly in Anchorage

I’ve written my share of poetry, but I only worked with the forms when I was in school. The poetry I wrote as an adult was all free verse. I actually don’t enjoy working with the forms that much. I find them restricting, probably because I’m not a good enough poet to create at the level of people like Robert Frost or Shakespeare or Coleridge. But reading those folks, and experience the stricture of form, taught me a great deal about the power of rhythm and density. One of the best ways I know to test whether a sentence I write is “good” is to read it out loud: does it flow? Does the rhythm or word choice (the alliteration, the repetition of syllable or sound, the natural breaks for breath or emphasis) support the meaning? If it does, the prose becomes more rich even when read in silence.

Dialogue is different — people don’t deliberately speak beautifully, as a rule, they speak with intent — but it still has rhythm, and readers can tell when it’s not right. That’s the real benchmark for me. All the good form in the world is meaningless if it doesn’t work for the reader. I suspect most good writers are capable of following the rules, but I think the trick is knowing that rules are not the point. People don’t carry structure in their hearts, they carry story.

My poetry wasn’t particularly good, but it does ripple back into my work in interesting ways sometimes. A poem I wrote in the mid-80’s gave me the beginnings of Estar Borja’s character in Solitaire. It was a long poem, but this is the salient part:

     in an elongated moment
     the Lady Butcher passes by,
     nods reservedly, and leaves us
     with a quick assessing look
     and a corner smile;
     weighing our tendons’ strength
     against her good left arm.

The poem was about a couple confronting the end of their marriage through death, but of course became something quite different in Solitaire (grin).

It seems to me that there are only a few good reasons to give something up: if you think it’s bad for you, if you don’t enjoy it, if it’s hurting someone, if it’s keeping you from something more important to you. And we’re all bold cows, Sly: how else would any of us have the guts to stand up in public and say, I made this.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, writing