In the Spirit of Halloween

My mystery/suspense novel, Mixed Messages, takes place the last week of October in 2008, which, of course, includes Halloween. As I was doing research for the book, I discovered some interesting facts about the combination secular and religious origin and history of the holiday.

The holiday we call Halloween originated with the ancient Celtic tribes who lived in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Brittany. For the Celts, November 1 marked the beginning of the new year and the coming of winter. The night before the new year, they celebrated the festival of Samhain, Lord of the Dead, when they believed that the souls of the dead, including ghosts, goblins and witches, returned to walk among the living. In order to scare away the evil spirits, people would wear masks and light bonfires.

When the Romans conquered the Celts, they added a few rituals to the festival. They bobbed for apples and drank cider. However, in 835, Pope Gregory IV moved the celebration of what would be later called All Saints Day to November 1. The night before became known as All Hallow’s Eve. Eventually, the name was shortened to Halloween.

Stories of ghosts first became associated with Halloween in Ireland. The Irish believed that, if someone you knew had died the previous year and you were still holding a grudge against them, that person would appear to you on Halloween, startling you so badly that you would do anything to get rid of your grudge.

Our custom of trick-or-treating began in Ireland too. Groups of farmers would go door-to-door collecting food and materials for a village feast and bonfire. Those who gave were promised a good year; those who did not give got threats of bad luck. Costumes were symbolic; they were meant to scare away the evil spirits so that the next day, on All Saints Day, the saints could celebrate without fear. And, the following day, All Souls Day, people could remember those who had died, especially in their immediate families, secure in the knowledge that they were at peace. When a large number of Catholic immigrants came to the United States, they brought the custom of trick-or-treating with them.

 The custom of carving a pumpkin for Halloween also came from the Irish. People would hollow out turnips and place lighted candles inside to scare off the evil spirits. When the Irish came to America, they discovered the pumpkin and, because it was bigger, we now carve pumpkins instead of turnips for Halloween. We call the carved pumpkins jack-o-lanterns due to the legend of an Irishman named Jack who, as punishment for never having performed a single selfless act in his life, was forced to roam the earth with only a burning coal inside a pumpkin to light his way.

Happy Halloween!

Why do you write Fiction?

October 20^th was National Writing Day. On the website “She Writes” a question was posed: “Why do you write?” Responses were limited to 140 characters (not words, characters) so, before replying, I thought about it for some time and realized that there are lots of reasons why I write and, specifically, why I write fiction.

There are intriguing snatches of conversations I’ve overheard, interesting or unusual physical and personality traits I’ve observed and unforgettable situations and events in people’s lives that they’ve told me through the years stored in my memory bank. Taking all those seemingly unrelated bits and pieces of information and creating characters and plots, combining them and transforming them into stories, gets them out of my head and onto paper and is extremely  rewarding to me.

But why? Maybe creating stories is my attempt to shed some light on the human condition and to make sense of what I’ve seen, heard and experienced throughout my life. Possibly, it’s because I want to leave my own tiny mark on the world, something that will be around after I’m gone. Or, perhaps it’s the fact that I don’t like loose ends but I do like all my ducks in a row and writing a novel is a way I can get them all lined up. My characters certainly don’t have it easy. They struggle with conflict, find themselves in some scary situations and they definitely have problems. But here’s the part I love. When I write a novel, I know there will be resolution, that all the loose ends will be tied up by the end of the book, neat and nice. Not necessarily a happy ending but a satisfying one.

Probably, the answer to why I write fiction is all of the above. My reply to the question on “She Writes” was, “I write because, for some inexplicable reason, ideas for characters, dialogue and plots swirl around in my head until I give in and combine them to create a story.” Why do you write fiction?

Maybe It Is . . . and Maybe It Isn't

Awhile back, I was feeling disappointed and discouraged; something hadn’t gone the way I’d hoped. (I don’t even remember what it was now.) My brother told me a story that made a strong impression on me. I was curious as to the origin of the story so I looked it up; it’s actually a parable from the book of Job, which I believe we can apply to our lives and our writing careers. I’d like to share this story with you.

There was an old man who lived in a tiny village. The man was poor but he was envied by the other villagers because he owned a beautiful white horse. The villagers encouraged him to sell the horse so he’d have some money but he refused. One morning, he discovered that the horse was not in the stable. The villagers all told him that he was a fool for not having sold it; that the horse was stolen and it was a curse. The old man replied, “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.  We only have a fragment; only God sees the whole picture.”

Then, one day, the horse returned and brought with it a dozen wild horses. Evidently it had not been stolen; it had run away. The villagers told the old man, “You were right. What we thought was a curse, was a blessing.” Once again, the old man told them, “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.”

The old man had a son who began to train the wild horses so that his father could sell them but he fell from one of the horses and broke both of his legs. The villagers said to the old man, “You proved we were wrong. You are still poor and your only son will not be able to help you now. The dozen horses were a curse.” “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t,” the old man said.

A few weeks later, war broke out in the country. All young men in the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. The villagers gathered around the old man, crying and screaming, “You were right. Your son’s accident was a blessing. Our sons will probably be killed but at least he is with you.” The old man finally told them, “It is impossible to talk with you. You always make judgments. You read only one page of a book. How can you judge the whole book? No one knows if something is a blessing or a curse. Only God knows.”

Get Real

In one of my favorite movies, Misery, based on Stephen King’s novel of the same name, James Caan plays Paul Sheldon, the famous author of a popular historical romance series. Paul decides that, if he’s ever going to be a “real” writer again, he needs to produce something else. He goes to his usual writer’s retreat, a lodge in the mountains, and completes a new novel, as yet untitled; he’s very proud of the book. The new novel depicts life as he knew it on the streets of New York when he was growing up. 

 Unfortunately, on his way down the mountain in a blinding snow storm, Paul loses control of his car. Annie Wilkes, played by Kathy Bates, is Paul’s Number One Fan (she has a copy of every novel in his Misery series) and an extremely unstable woman. She finds him trapped in his car, which is buried in a snow bank, and carries him back to her house, presumably to nurse him back to health. Paul allows her to read his new manuscript. Here’s an excerpt of their conversation.

“It’s the swearing, Paul,” Annie says.

“The profanity bothers you?” he asks.

“It has no nobility.”
          “Annie, these are slum kids. I was a slum kid. Everybody talks like that.”

“No they don’t! Do I go to the feed store and say, ‘Give me some of that f---ing pig feed’? Or at the bank, ‘Here’s one big bastard of a check’?”

          While I’m not a fan of the overuse of “four letter words” or using them when it’s inappropriate to do so, I agree with Paul. I believe that, in order for fiction to be realistic, the language in the story needs to be in sync with the characters and the situation. Street kids do use that kind of language and, if the story is to be believable, the characters in it need to use it too.

            I’d like to hear your thoughts on the subject.

Getting to Know You

Do you know the song, Getting to Know You? It was written by Rodgers and Hammerstein and first sung by Deborah Kerr in the 1956 production of The King and I. Julie Andrews sang it in the 2006 remake. “Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you. Getting to like you. Getting to hope you’ll like me.”            

In “real” life, people get to know us and we get to know them gradually. We all have a back story, a history that’s contributed to making us who we are. When we meet someone, we learn the basic information about them quickly but it takes a bit of time to really get to know them. How do they think? What are their dreams? What makes them tick? Why do they say and do what they say and do?

In time, we learn those things about people we get close to and become friends with and we tend to forgive them their shortcomings because we understand and care about them. However, most people we meet never acquire that status in our lives; they are acquaintances and we know very little about them. On some level, we may make a judgment. We may think “I hate running into Suzanne; she never stops talking,” or “Jack gets on my last nerve; he always has to be the center of attention.” If we knew people’s back story, we might not be so quick to jump to conclusions.

For example, what if you knew that Suzanne had never married; she’d devoted her life to taking care of her severely mentally ill sister and the only time she got a break (or a chance to talk with someone who was capable of understanding her) was when she ran out to the store or the post office? And, what about Jack? What if you found out that, when he was growing up, as the middle child of ten, his parents were too busy to give him any attention. Do you feel at least a smidgen of compassion for the two of them now? Do you have a better understanding of why they are the way they are?

That’s why I chose to give each of the important characters in my novels a back story. I want readers to understand why each character does what he/she does and what part their pasts play in determining who they are. Of course, it’s crucial to keep readers involved in the present story; the goal, after all, is to hold their interest and compel them to keep reading. Every writer does that differently; I prefer to blend it into the story. As I write, I get to know my characters well and I want my readers to get to know them too.