We are very pleased to offer you a glimpse of the next JAR Collective publication.
HER FIRST REALITY, DARKNESS is the first in a series of eight interconnected mini novels from Jodi Cleghorn.
This series has its genesis over a decade ago. Known colloquially as “the birthpunk novella”, it had the working title of ENCURSION for several years and will go to press as HER FIRST REALITY, DARKNESS.
“The path of radical responsibility is one of facing the places where our unknowing is a catalyst for destruction.” ~ Alina
On the winter solstice, 51 years ago, snow bloomed red in Manhattan.
Six months later, a quiet epidemic sweeps the island on the hottest day in a century leaving less than 1% of the population clinging to a precarious existence.
Sylvie O’Brien has made a deal with The City’s most powerful Information Architect: Joseph will provide safe passage off the island in exchange for midwifery services for his wife. The only problem is natural birth is considered a crime against the state and Sylvie is only barely one step ahead of City authorities and the outlawed Deme.
In forgotten parts of the urban landscape, among those who have outlived their reproductive worth, Sylvie finds allies, enemies and the truth of her family’s involvement in the Red Winter.
Can she survive long enough to experience a life beyond the damage of the past? Or is some trauma impossible to outrun and outlive?
The full cover will be revealed on the new moon at the end of the month.
HER FIRST REALITY, DARKNESS launches December, 2019.
Every time I publish a piece of writing with a larger audience, one of the most common questions I hear is “What’s next?”
It’s a loaded question, for sure, especially with Fossil Five releasing to the world in a matter of days. Most people don’t really care about the behind-the-scenes writing I am doing on a daily — sometimes hourly — basis. What they really care about is what I plan on releasing to the public in the near future.
Then there’s the new novel idea about a small-town college that shuts down in the late sixties after a series of unsolved murders on campus. The abandoned college receives a financial windfall from an anonymous donor, and when it reopens for artists in 2020, the murders resume. The story follows several students who begin to unearth the secrets of the college’s bloody history, leading them to become the primary targets for the killer’s next victims.
I also have an inspiring series of essays in the works on living a more fulfilling life through authentic journaling.
The truth is, though, that the “next” story is whichever one rises from the myriad ideas, scribbles, and drafts that I have been collecting in my journals for the past 4 decades. In other words, when you sneak a peek behind the writer’s magical veil, there is no official “next story.”
In addition to the three titles that I listed above, I’m working on stories that matter the world to me, but may never see the light of day in my readers’ worlds.
These are just a few of the ideas ripped from my daybook’s pages. Some of them are developed more than others.
Sail Away– a novel about a time portal in the basement of a family’s house that leads to the late 18th century, where some of the individuals of yesteryear have come back to cross-populate the two worlds over a three-century period.
Daily Prompts of Inspiration- I have written and shared many hundreds of writing prompts to lift up, inspire, and encourage others. This would be a journal where each page begins with a new thought, and plenty of blank space to reflect.
Anthology of Ghost and Horror Stories- I have always loved the genre of terror, and over the years I have written enough short stories to put together an anthology of horror. It’s quite antithetical to my inspiring posts and essays; I guess that’s what makes them all the more interesting.
My Poetry- This is something that I have very, very rarely shared with anybody, even my closest writer-friends. I think this would take the most amount of courage. As vulnerable as I feel about my fiction, I keep my poetry very close to the vest. One day, that will change.
The Memoir of Rus- I thought about doing this when I turned 50 (my writer-friend Bernadette did this as a series of reflective pieces, and it resonated deeply with me), but it never happened. I don’t think I need a particular anniversary or milestone birthday to share these; I do think, though, that I need to finish and share these essays comprising a larger picture of me sooner than later.
And then, of course, there are the collaborative works with Jodi and Adam here at the JAR that are always in line to be “next.” The Glass Marionette with Jodi is ready to embark on an adventurous turn as we surrender the continuation of the plot to the universe. The JAR Story with Jodi and Adam is nearly complete and ready for the world to enjoy in 2020. I’m also teaming up with Adam on a new work of fiction that evolves around metaphysical labyrinths.
The “next story” has always been, and will always be, in the works. Writing is not sterile, clean, or tidy when it comes to finishing one project and then beginning another. As Fossil Five makes its debut in this world, it just opens space for the next story to rise, much like a newly discovered patch of light in a forest of competing stories. Which one will reach the light first? Fill the space with outstretched leaves soaking up the sun and the energy to be the next?
We shall see. For now, I give light to all my works, and see each of them as having an equal chance to be “next” for my readers. If anything, I know — as I hope my readers do as well — that I will never stop writing, or sharing, my stories with the world.
There is a part of me that wants to write, A part that wants to theorize, A part that wants to sculpt, A part that wants to teach…. To force myself into a single role, to decide to be just one thing in life, would kill off large parts of me.
Kill off large parts of me? As a young man fresh out of college, I thought: Why in the world would anybody want to do that?
When I first read these words, I felt as if I had just been given license to be myself, and not who everybody else wanted me to be. Not seeing the irony in my ways, I kept that epiphany a secret for a long time. I felt that if I told anyone about all of these different “parts” of me, they would tell me how foolish I was being.
“It’s not the domestic model,” they would say, “so you’d be a fool to stray too far from the plan that you – and we – have had for you all along. Such distractions are unnecessary.”
Sometimes, I feel like those of us who were coming of age in the eighties were the last generation to feel tied to the rules and mores of the past. We were still too eager to honor and please others, and we felt tremendous guilt if we strayed.
But maybe it’s wrong of me to brush such a broad stroke. Perhaps it is just in my character to please, to resist the disappointment that I feared I would feel from others.
And, maybe, still fear.
Yeah. that’s probably all on me.
I remember my friend Ginny telling me about her father, who was quite the artist, and how he had kept that part of him inside all his life because his wife would not allow him to live fully as that artist. Ginny said to me that the artist within him was too strong, and no matter what anybody did or said to suppress that artist, it was going to manifest in some way to leave his body. In this case, it was cancer. And it took his life — and his art — swiftly.
When you stand in your authenticity and truth, you make space for others to do the same. Especially those closest to you. What rebellion are you trying to enact? Inner? Outer? Or that place between?
After I let those words sink in a bit, I realized that, ironically enough, one of the things that stands in the way of our authenticity is social media. I’m reminded of The Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” and how so many of us keep wearing that face that we keep in the jar by the door. The only difference is we’re wearing those masks for the world to see.
Behind them lies the individual desperately seeking authenticity and truth – not to mention validation – in all the wrong places.
On days like this, when I am pondering the balance I strike between the artist and the domestic, I go back to Prather’s words and remember what it was like as that 22-year-old kid feeling liberated, but keeping it all a secret.
I’ve been balancing that irony all my life.
The path less trod for me has been an internal journey, and I know that I am speaking for so many others as well. I’m talking about people who are just like me who have lived a quiet, creative life, suppressing so much of who they really are, for the compromise of a safe, domestic life.
Is it too late to change any of that? Of course not. Do I have the courage to do it? That’s an entirely different story.
So I believe this to be more like the path more trod, because I think that many of the people reading this will identify with that struggle to become a person.
So what do we do? We carry on with the rules we have established for our lives; we don’t wallow in some melancholic waters of what we have not done (but honestly, how soothing is that!). We continue to fuel the parts of us that want to write, to theorize, to sculpt, to teach. We do what we are doing here at The JAR Writers’ Collective. We create portals for our creativity to flow more freely.
And we stand as best we can in authenticity: for ourselves and for others, as we continue along our paths more or less trod, but our paths nonetheless to call our own.