Just in Time for Halloween – My Haunted Lamp

Posted on by Ashley Harris
Our little lamp in its new home

In 2018, my husband J.P. and I bought a used lamp that turned out to have a rather macabre history. It entered our lives at a pivotal time, and for a while, I actually thought it might be haunted. Of course I had to write about it. And I did, using this experience as the subject for an essay I wrote for a Women on Writing class with the extraordinary teacher Naomi Kimbell in January 2021. Writers among you may find the story of my essay as interesting as that of the lamp. It is truly a story of how many a “no” will eventually turn into a “yes.”

Because this work was so unusual, I felt that it might be a contest piece. I like contests because they’re usually open to all themes and for the price of the submission fee you often get valuable feedback. Over the past year and a half, I entered an essay I called “The Perfect Lamp” into a number of contests, and while it didn’t win, it was named a finalist in two places, the Lit/South competition and the Barry Lopez Nonfiction Award. Along the way, I also received a tremendous amount of feedback, from contest judges as well as that of my classmates and my faithful Mem-Warriors, Ang and Marilyn (whom I first met in another WOW class). Additionally, other friends read it and contributed their advice.

And I continued to submit, submit, submit……from pitching it to commercial magazines (yes, even the BIG one) to literary publications. I had never thought about it as a podcast but when I saw a market listing for PenDust Radio, a project of Rivercliff Books and Media, I started to think of my essay in a different way — not just as words on a page, but as an experience in sound. Because of the many nuanced elements in the story, it occurred to me that a podcast might be an interesting approach. Lucky for me, Lisa Duff, Rivercliff’s talented editor and publisher, agreed. She also helped me tweak the title, and just in time for Halloween, “The Perfect Lamp” has been reborn as “My ‘Haunted’ Lamp: Murder, Mystery and Remodeling” and is now live as a podcast.

The lesson for us writers is one we know all too well but still bears repeating. Submit, submit, submit! The practice of thinking about our work in its published form opens the door for continuous tweaks and improvements that might never happen without the inevitable rejections and feedback. And the act of sending our revised work out into the world yet again brings powerful rewards all its own. To do so acknowledges that we writers are capable of growth and development, lessons that will bear fruit in the next (and the next and the next) piece that we write.

With the approach of Halloween, I wish my fellow writers all the best in the metamorphosis of their own work. After all, revising and submitting again is very similar to donning a new costume, isn’t it? As my experience proves, I have no doubt that you, two, will see a “yes,” even it leads you somewhere you never expected. Enjoy the ride!

Poem #10 – Waiting for the Wood Thrush

Posted on by Ashley Harris

We made it to Day 10 – whew! Only twenty more days to go. But I have to say that I’m thoroughly enjoying this poetry challenge. As I mentioned to a friend, it’s a little like documenting your daily life through a diary of poetry.

In keeping with yesterday’s poem about the delights of spring, today we’ll anticipate the arrival of the wood thrush, a rather woodthrushnondescript bird in terms of appearance, but with a song as ethereal as the nightingale. Have you heard it?

Want to read my poem? Scroll down the list for Day #10 to read “Waiting for the Wood Thrush.”

If you love poetry, I hope you’ll consider supporting a poet this month.  Please do read my work (and those of the other poets) if you can, and consider supporting me with a small donation. Supportive comments on this blog are also very welcome because they inspire me to keep going!

Many, many thanks to all of you have contributed to the cause so far — either through a monetary donation or moral support, which are equally valuable.

Please know that your contributions are going to a great cause. Tupelo Press is a prestigious non-profit press, and for 17 years their mission has been to publish new voices. They are giving my work some exposure, and bringing me into a community of over 350 alumni helping each other publish our work.

The Passing of a Storyteller

Posted on by Ashley Harris

trevorpicture

Yesterday I learned that the celebrated Irish author William Trevor passed away at the noble age of 88.  The world will undoubtedly mourn the passage of a veritable literary lion—the recipient of nearly every major literary prize except, regrettably, the Nobel—but it is a true personal loss for me. Not just as a writer, and his influence on my writing has been immeasurable but even having never met the man I owe him a tremendous debt as a person.

How many times have I retreated to his world of extraordinary “ordinary” characters? I still do. In fact, it was inside the pages of his hundreds of short stories that I began to truly accept my own flaws and embrace my quirkiness. In doing so, I found that my compassion for my fellow misfits in the world deepened. His words have made me cry and laugh  – the belly-aching kind – the best therapy of all. It is no exaggeration to say that this man saved me thousands of dollars in psychotherapy, I’m sure.

Although he wrote 14 novels, as masterful as they are, he is most revered for his short stories. “Raymond Bamber and Mrs. Fitch” and “A Complicated Nature” are two of my favorites, or at least they come to mind right now, for their Trevoresque blend of humor and pathos. “Access to the Children,” “Her Mother’s Daughter, and “A Wedding in the Garden” are three more poignant stories. And thanks to his inimitable variety, Trevor crafted unforgettable stories of quiet horror that resonate deeply, such as “Miss Smith,” “The Hotel of the Idle Moon,” and “The Teddy-bears’ Picnic.” More recent collections yielded other small masterpieces such as “A Bit on the Side,” “Marrying Damian,” and “Sacred Statutes.” This last story earned him one of his four O’Henry Prizes, a nice little connection to North Carolina, since this award is named after a native son also famous for his short stories! The list goes on and on.

While I will mourn this man, as is his due, I will not descend into tearful blubbery. I will not. I cannot. His works have brought me such joy, consolation, and communion with my fellow humans that my overriding emotion is one of gratitude.

“My fiction may, now and again, illuminate aspects of the human condition, but I do not consciously set out to do so,” Trevor told one interviewer in a story posted by the Associated Press yesterday. “I am a storyteller.”

From one storyteller to another, I thank you, Mr. William Trevor, pardon me, Sir William Trevor, for all that you mean to me.