Ride ‘Round the Story Arc.

When writing a linked set of stories, I think it’s hard to figure out what perspective you’re going to come from. Several very serious questions arise before you even start writing:

1. Whose story are you writing?

2. Who is telling it?

3. What is your overreaching theme? What’s the point?

These three questions are at the basis of every story. without a solid base, even the best constructed story falls to pieces in your hands.

When I got this particular assignment, it took me a decent amount of time to decide how I was going to approach it, how I was going to link three separate (yet, not, obviously) stories together.  I knew that I wanted it to be about Cristiani ( see previous entry) and about the musician who would be playing her. But that was about it.

For about a week, I dabbled with the concept. I tried a female muscian narrator, a male muscian narrator, Cristiani herself narrating. I tried it in first and third, once, in second ( that was a giant will-not-happen-again) voice. I tried an outside perspective, which went a little better, but still didn’t have what I was looking for.  At the end of the week, I was about ready to pull my hair out in clumps. Why couldn’t I figure this out? Perspective and voice had never been a problem for me. Why was this particular story misbehaving so badly?

I went with a good friend of mine, a fellow writer, to drown my frustration in a grande cafe latte and huge chocolate cookie. She asked me about my story. I went on at great length about the cello and the original musician and the current musician , and all this that and the other. Finally, I wound down to morose silence, occasionally slurping my drink and completely ignoring the chocoately goodness at my right hand.

She eyed me for about a minute. Then , casually, she said, “Well, that’s all cool and interesting, but what is it actually about?”

I looked up, affronted, ready to tell her straight out that it was about…..I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Well, crap.  I spent the next 1 hour enmeshed in the concept. What was my theme? Where was this going?

I left that little cafe table with a new lease on my story. I ran my original questions through my mind over and over again, examining them from as many angles as I could. I kept coming back to what effect would such an intense relationship between instrument and musician have on the people around them. How would those people (mothers, fathers, siblings, friends, lovers, etc.) see and deal with it?

It was while traveling along this line of thought that I decided to write the story from a variety of perspectives.  To create the story around the main characters, not from them. It would happen backwards but not in any specific order. Track the life of a genius and his muse from end to beginning. Watching what prices everyone else has to pay for their madness.

This is the second in the trilogy, “Do You Carry Every Sadness With You?” The title is taken from the song Half Acre, by Hem.

Every Sadness Mejia

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Life has a habit of moving forward, with or without you. I lost myself in the rolling waves of that forward motion and a great many things were knocked from my fingers, this being one.

Well, now I’m back. To celebrate my return, I have a few tidbits of writing to throw your way.

Backstory: While I was in my last semester of college, I took a creative writing tutorial that focused on writing linked short stories. Being an intense music fiend and a musical instrument autodidact, I had been eyeball deep in researching the history of Stradivarius and his very special stringed instruments. So intrigued with all the intense emotion and dedication surrounding both the musicians and the instruments themselves, i decided to write my linked stories around a real Stradivarius cello, Cristiani.

The cello was named after the first woman to ever play the cello professionally, Elise Cristiani (sometimes spelled “Christiani”). The cello was made in 1700 by Stradivarius and was owned by others before it came into her possession, but as in most cases, their names have been lost to the annals of history and the tax books. Elise had a very short career, debuting with aplomb at age 17, before becoming a favored court musician in Denmark. Many composers at the time, especially Mendelssohn, wrote or dedicated cello concertos to her. She was known for her elegant way of holding the cello and her individual charm. In terms of music, she was most notable for her use of the endpin. The endpin is the spike or stake that is used in many modern bass and cellos to stabilize the instrument when standing. When sitting, it allows the musician to sit upright and reach all the frets on the bridge with ease, as well as allowing them to reach extreme positions on the strings, particularly the A and C. Other large or unwieldy instruments like the bass clarinet use it, also. It was first noted in use in the early 1600s but it was rare. In a late 19th century article, it was said that the “tail-pin” first came into use with Cristiani ( first lady cellist) and thus its use was considered feminine, undesirable for male cellists. It was discouraged by some traditionalists for about twenty years or so, before being adopted by most players by the the beginning of the 20th century.
Because of her very short career and unattached but high-profile status, many legends about her ability and the mystical quality of her playing circulated after her death from cholera in 1853, at age 26. This, specifically intrigued me; many feel that her spirit, so tied to her beloved instrument in life, became one with it in death, thus her unearthly skill lived on and she able to do what she loved until eternity.
I began to wonder, “What would happen if another player, man or woman, were to inherit or buy her cello? What would happen between them? What would happen to the people surrounding them?”

From those meanderings of thought, this trilogy of short stories was born, “Concerto for Cristiani” starting with “None Can Die.” The title is taken from John Donne’s poem, “The Good-Morrow.”

None Can Die Mejia