Second Look: Flowers of Dionysus
My first novel could have been my last.
I had always written non-fiction, mostly articles and essays, a letter to the editor, with some poetry mixed here and there. I dabbled in short fiction over the years, but never did anything with it.
I had also attempted to write a novel a few times in previous years, but it never panned out. For whatever reason I could not follow through in most cases.
So there was a time in the writing of this novel that I thought I would get this story out, look into this self-publishing idea, and move on with my life.
Why was I so determined to not only finish but to present this one after so many false starts over the years?Two main reasons.
First I had recently done NANOWRIMO for the first time, and “won.” If nothing else it showed me that I could in fact finish a larger project if I did not take the time to edit until I was finished with a first draft. Revolutionized the way I wrote from then on out. The concept of a novel, which I only dipped my toe into for years was now at least a possibility.
Secondly, (and I have talked of this years ago on this site) I felt I was inspired by several events because of the presence of the “beyond.” You may interpret that as you wish, but in any event the ending scene of a novel “came” to me after seeing an outdoor production of Taming of the Shew that happened near my apartment of the time.
Now, it took a while to determine how and why and who would get to that ending, but that was why I was writing the story.
As with Thank You For Ten (which actually came AFTER the idea for the novel) the theatre in question is The Little Dionysus Playhouse, a composite of several theaters I have worked in over the years. It’s a small, aging playhouse that may be past its prime in this day and age, but nonetheless continues as a noted arts presence in the small (fictional) city in which the story unfolds.
The protagonist, Matthias, was once heavily into theatre after studying it in college, though when the novel opens, he’s become a bit cynical of the entire concept. Sadly, his heart is just not in it anymore. It’s only as a favor to a friend of his that is directing a show that he steps in to fill in a missing role, his first in about two years.
Several smaller but thematically related subplots are woven into this story, all covering some aspects of the performing arts and featuring other volunteers involved in this same summer show, (a modern take on an old Greek Tragedy.)
This so far is my only novel with multiple points of view. Back then as now, I am not the biggest fan of reading multiple-pov. Yet I modeled this on the few novels I have been able to enjoy that used such a format: namely having only one point of view per chapter, and each chapter named after the character we are following.
We have Matthias, the burned out actor who has lost some of his fire. We have the disciplined weary stage manager, one of Matthias best friends. We have a talented dancer brought in to choreograph some of the fanciful scenes, and the “ingenue-adjacent” first time actress, introverted and unused to chaos.
The antagonist, the temporary executive director of the theatre rounds out the group of those with their own POV.
The production is troubled, behind schedule, weighed down by people half-assing their involvement. (If you have done community theatre, you’ve been in one of these.) Needless to say this does little for Matthias’ cynicism. Out of duty he will not quit this show, but he may just declare it his last.
Until supernatural, unexplained events and odd strangers start to pop up everywhere on the perimeter of the rehearsal process. Only Matthias seems concerned about it.
Will his need to figure out the unexplained help or hurt the production? His own commitment to theatre itself?
That’s Flowers of Dionysus. In the end, it is a love letter to the world of theatre, particular amateur/community theatre, albeit with some mild fantasy elements. I never felt one had to be involved in theatre to enjoy the story, but I can confirm theatre geeks will understand a few more of the “inside” jokes I throw in from time to time.
I want it to appeal to artists of all kinds, to people who believe in the power of same. Found family lovers will find something to embrace in this tale of friendship as well. So will those who feel burdened by cynicism at the time of reading, but wish to lift said burden.
Those who believe, or who want to believe that the intangibles of creativity, inspiration, love and the transcendent matter in this world take heed: they matter in Flowers of Dionysus.
I believe that I have improved as a writer since this first public attempt at a novel. I would hope so; one should always strive to be better. Yet I am still proud of this finished product. To some degree all of my novels follow in the spirit of my author tagline, “I Shift the Every Day a Few Inches,” but this debut of mine may embody it the most. To read this novel is to see (I hope) what I mean by that.
Second Look: Thank You For Ten
My short story collection, Thank You For Ten: Short Fiction About a Little Theatre was not the first idea I had to publish fiction. It was related to that, however, and ultimately was the first thing I ever published.
This collection of ten short stories not only share a setting with one another, but with my first novel, Flowers of Dionysus, which I will talk about next time.
I was both woefully and perhaps blissfully ignorant at how ineffective I would be at marketing and promotion. Or, I overestimated how much interest the setting would generate among readers. In any event, I wrote and published this collection as a companion piece to build interest in my upcoming first novel.
It was also my first ever experience was publishing my own work. It was a far more meticulous and thus nerve wracking process back then as compared to what I do now. But that’s boring to talk about.
The setting of the stories and the subsequent novel is small community theatre called The Little Dionysus Playhouse. The characters call it the LDP for short. It’s an amalgam of the various theatre venues I’ve performed in over the years.
As a long time volunteer actor I have come to realize that each theatre has its own distinct personality, based on resources, material produced, and various factors, not the least of which is the venue itself. Ask a one who has done more than a little bit of theatre, and they will tell you that the venue is often a character itself in any show. I wanted to establish the particulars of the LDP in both the stories and the novel.
I did so, but as it turned out Thank You For Ten became as much about what theaters have in common as it did the specifics of a specific place.
In these stories I explored such tribulations as not having enough crew to run a show, people flaking out, the eerie but exciting feeling of being in a theatre by ones self at night, almost-universal presence of summer classes, and just the overall pains-in-the-ass that seem unique to the theatre world. (How and why do we need to carry a boat through town for this production? And if we do have to, why is the place not unlocked as was promised on the day we took to do so??)
The stories nod towards various genres, even if they would not officially qualify in the minds of respective fandoms. I wanted to give a taste of different types of stories with a theatre as the setting. To put it another way, I wanted to give theatre kid/nerds among my readers a few minutes of sci-fi, a few minutes of suspense and so on, without having to divert from the recognizable (to them) glories and foibles of the theatre, with an emphasis on amateur production.
I had hoped when writing these, as well as the main novel, to appeal especially to theatre nerds, as I mentioned. 85% of my friends and allies are so because of theatre, and I figured it was an excellent setting to begin my foray into publishing fully realized fiction. (That, and having a sort of vision, but that is for next week’s post.)
To be fair, some of my theatre people did read the collection. But not many. At least not in its initial run. It is not too late of course for anybody with an e-reader to check out these stories. (The link is above at the start of this post.) Yet at the time I thought I could capture the niche of readers that were also the niche of theatre. We are a particular breed after all, we theatre geeks. My hope was to compose a sort of love letter to theatre people that would also make an enjoyable set of stories for those who came into the collection not knowing a proscenium from a prologue. The point was to wink at those who knew, and shake hands with those who did not.
Did I succeed?
That of course depends on one’s definition. I still get about one download a year for the collection. Yet ti did not, thus far, find its way to the theatre geek crowd as I had hoped. I can’t say if this is because I, once again, am just not effective promoter despite my best exhausting efforts, or if theatre geeks do not in fact want to read about the adventures of other theatre geeks as much as I assumed.
If I choose the optimistic approach, I can tell myself they prefer hard copies, and I only ever made this collection available in ebook form. Or perhaps many have enjoyed it, but have left no ratings or reviews for same.
When it comes to title matching vibe, this may be my best choice, honestly. It fits, it has multiple meanings, and calls out (in theory) to those in the know.
As with my entire back catalog, it remains available. If you should see this, and want to visit the LDP in shorter bits, with literally and figuratively a diverse cast of characters all doing their best to make promising enjoyable theatre, download a copy today.
And if you like it, especially if you’re a theatre type, do leave a rating. If 100 theatre people read and enjoy it, I am just as happy if not more so than if 200 people who do not know theatre do so.
But all of course are welcome.
Looking Back at My Oeuvre
Without having every work I have written since high school in front of my to prove this beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am going to contend the title of this post as only the second time I have made use of the word “oeuvre” lifetime. Certainly feels that way.
It just means “body of work.” Technically speaking, it probably only applies to such a body of work in its entirety, as opposed to a deliberate look at each given piece. I am announcing the former on this site coming up in May, wherein I will be looking back on each of my books and describing what I hoped to achieve, how it came about, general writerly stuff with the benefit of some distance in many cases.
So, the title may not be English professor-approved, but I just wanted to use “oeuvre” again.
Jokes aside now, I will in fact use May, possibly parts of June to look back on my various books. I am not renowned at this point, nor am I done with writing, so perhaps there is a “who gives a shit” element to this project, in which case, keep moving I suppose. Yet this year I have dedicated my time on this site to explore the nature of both writing, and my personal opinion on same. Best way to do that is to revisit my previous stuff in a bit more detail.
I would love you to purchase and read any of my previous works, but promotion (REpromotion?) is not the driving force behind this upcoming look back. Educations on process and presentation of my tastes as an author are the primary purposes of this little journey. Even if you do not (or have already!) choose to read any of these works, I hope you will get something out of my style and technique discussion as framed in these pieces.
As always, respectful comments and questions are welcome.
We will start next week with the first book I ever published, my short story collection, Thank You For Ten.
Heart-Probability: What I Look For in Fiction
I don’t know what the hell to read next.
Only once I skim either the shelves of the library, or the descriptions online can I come to a conclusion about what book I want to try next. (Word to other indie-publishers, that jacket blurb is damned important!)
About 50% of the time, I am right. The other half of the time, it feels like I chewed a sour grape as a result of the let down of my expectations. Especially when I rarely even read a jacket blurb’s summary of a book that blows me away. Usually when I decide on a book to read, it’s because I said to myself something akin to, “not bad. Let’s see.”
Might be a current bestseller. Might be a second-tier thriller from 40 years ago. I will start to read it, if I get the sense I will find the story something I call “heart-probable.” By that I mean you can put characters in space, in purgatory, in traction, but if it feels like in the end a human experience is unfolding in a manner that I could sympathize with, (or long for) I am more likely to give it a try.
There are plenty caveats, to be fair.
For example, even though I give off the occasional “snooty English professor” vibe, I will prioritize this heart-probability over intricate writing and illustrious prose 85% of the time or more. If I want straight, eloquence, or word magic at its finest, I generally turn to poetry over fiction.
The other side of that coin shines just as brightly though; I don’t want vapid, pedestrian writing if it serves only to push cookie cutter, Hallmark Channel level characters around on a map, either. Suspense and adventure stories are among my favorite reads, when done well. Glorified travelogues propped up by guns and sex are not. That’s because even the least appealing person in real life generally has more to say, to think, to aspire to than the heroes of such books.
Heart-probable.
Even when I attempt a full escape into a story not known for the depth of character, I usually cannot finish it. I struggle with most sci-fi, (concept-over-heart) and Tolkien-style fantasy, (lost in a sea of words) for this reason.
Yes, that is subjective to some degree, but so is every other metric by which a given reader judges what works and does not work for them. We’re talking about effective fiction, not particle physics.
There are other caveats to my preferences as stated here. A story can be heart-probable, and yet removed too far from my personal experience in life to hit the nail fully on the head. Heart-probable but without hope puts me off as a reader, even if beautiful. I study and perform Shakespeare, I know tragedy-as-art. in fact perhaps because I am involved in Shakespeare, I have less tolerance for tragic stories from other places/ in modern settings? I’ll have to ponder that.
Anyway, I work overtime not to succumb to the notion this real-world has no hope, so I am not at all drawn to fictional world that offer none of it.
Maybe I should call this whole concept “My-Heart-Probable,” instead given how subjective this is, and how many stories I hated could nonetheless by “heart-probable” to someone. I concede that much of what makes a story worth reading all the way through for me is this intangible, nebulous notion of wanting to be along for a ride that is at least adjacent to the human threads that shape me as an individual, even when the setting and plot is outlandish.
Characters in the stories that mean the most to me are also tethered to the everyday to some extent. They may, and often do find themselves in the middle of something out of the ordinary, even otherworldly. Yet they remained tethered on some level to their status quo. If I am to care about how they confront the proverbial inciting incident, I have recognize a bit of where they came from before hand as human, and adjacent in some degree to my own humanity. Characters placed in entirely foreign circumstances have to remind me of something that is not, or was not foreign to me in the first place.
The idea that I could see myself next to a character as they live the story is an important one, even if I would not choose to be in the middle of their life.
A protagonist either makes a better world, or becomes a better them as a result of the stories that appeal to me most.
And when I cannot find enough of these stories to read, I do my best to write them.
Heart-probable.
National Poetry (sometimes) Month
We are well into April, which is, as the title mentioned, National Poetry Month. (It is also National Autism Awareness Month, which was probably a coincidence, but I like to pretend the two are connected in some unseen, life-affirming way. That’s another post.)
Poetry peaks and valleys over the course of my writer’s life in terms of priority. Years ago I was always writing it. There have been spans of years during which I write none. Currently, poetry is near the valley for me, though climbing slowly over the last two years.
I meant to release a large volume of found poetry this year during April. It is my second, and by far the more ambitious work of “blackout” or “found” poetry, wherein a pre-existing work is used as a template, and all words that are not the poem are “blacked out.” My Lodestone Crossing is my first foray into this, which you can find on this site under, “My Books.” That was my first experience with the method, and I used multiple sources. This second attempt altered one very large single source of words into a quasi-epic that took my six months to compose, and is taking me much longer to merely transpose into typed words than I planned.
Plan priorities and schedules being what they are, this project has fallen somewhat by the wayside. It will still happen, but nowhere near the end of this month.
I’m at ease about that, as I am with most of my poetry. As bad as I am at marketing my work, I market the poetry even less. Lodestone Crossing is the first book of poetry I have ever offered to the public, and even that is not standard poetry.
Poetry is the one writing world in which I feel totally free to do what I damn well please, no restrictions, expectations, or in most cases, promotion.
Forms are long out of style–I use them. So called “free verse” despite its name apparently still has certain expectations, especially for performance; I ignore them.
Self-consciousness is virtually zero when it comes to my poems.
Of course all of my writing would benefit from a touch of this carefree approach, and I am doing better in that regard. That notwithstanding, poetry is there, as has always been, unless I’m entering a contest with specific rules. (Exceedingly rare for me to do with poetry.)
Not every writer composes poetry. Then there are poets who meticulously build their entire writing world around same. I make no proclamation about poetry’s place in your life.
I will say that every writer should have for them what poetry is for me. If you write, there should be some genre, some format or style of writing you engage without consideration of expectations or appreciation. If you can do this for all media, great, but make sure there is at least one that you can go into 100% guilt-free and rule-ignorant. That embrace of freedom and rejection of convention is bound to help your imagination and vocabulary, and make you more intimate with language on the whole, and thus improve the rest of your writing.
Poet and did not know it? More like a poet, and did not feed the overriding scholarly or cultural expectation of it.
(See, I broke obvious poetry norms there. Ask me how much it bothers me.)
Ty Unglebower 