1. Fallen leaves are a quiet palette of cut glass; they are a funeral in the church of nature. They make you think of pastry, damp strata from an earlier rainfall, or spirit-shadows looping into the distance. You want…
This tale was first penned in the early 2010s after a period of mental illness that resulted in disability. So, there is a before and after the story aspect to my life. I put all my symptoms into fresh events for the character in this story, but the isolation, delusion, and irrationality that drive the action in the story were real for me. Shortly after, I took this piece to the University of Iowa for a summer workshop with Jonathan Blum. When it came my turn for feedback, the room was filled with what felt like a stunned silence. I took it well. My guts were there, and that is not the kind of thing people react to comfortably. But in my one-to-one meeting with Jonathan, I got the validation I needed to keep going. I will be forever grateful to him.
Over the last fifteen years, this story has had several iterations, resulting in about two reams of printed work. A close writer-friend could only say that the baby took a long time to get up and walk, and that was helpful. At one point in time, Matthew Limpede, then editor of Carve, suggested physically cutting the piece apart and taping it back together to impose a more linear sense of time. I rewrote it in first and third person. I returned to it during focused times and left it aside during long distracted or unhealthy periods. Writing away from this story and in different genres was as important to its continuing development as anything else.
I made very few submissions during this period, as it hadn’t been possible for myriad reasons. I had some bright spots around 2017 to 2019 when I submitted to contests and won a couple of honorable mentions. I was and continue to be proud of those accomplishments as they carried me for years.
From 2015 to 2018, I worked as a reader and contributor for Easy Street, an online literary journal and sister publication of The Lascaux Review. Easy’s Managing Editor, Camille Griep, trusted me with the work of other writers, and I cannot discount the importance of reading the work of others whenever possible. She is a model of respect for the written word, and I am deeply grateful for her influence in my life. My current work as Senior Editor with Camille at Does It Have Pockets continues to give me daily exposure to other writers, and I realize the importance of this in keeping my writing active.
The conversation around mental health has evolved over this story’s lifespan and I’ve come to think this piece was perhaps written before its time. In the last decade, prominent people have emerged to share their experiences with illnesses such as depression and anxiety. Trauma is openly discussed. We see advertisements for medications, helplines, and psychological care in daily media. I acknowledge the necessary darkness of this piece and respect readers who find it frightening or distasteful. My son suggested that I read Hemingway’s “Up in Michigan,” and it reassured me that a story could face the content of what I was writing. I am grateful to see a growing space for difficult stories within our cultural awareness of debilitating and complex mental illness.
I am most proud of having never given up, and amazed by the people I have met during the work’s evolution. I believe in this story. I took long breaks. I worked the thing half to death. I wrote a lot of micro flash for The Six Sentences Social Network, sadly defunct, and deeply appreciate my friends there, who cheered me on in my frequent small endeavors. They were invaluable in keeping my hand in the work. I thank CRAFT for their acceptance and support. There is nothing like seeing one’s words in print.
ANGELA KUBINEC works as the Senior Editor for Does It Have Pockets, an online literary journal. Her work has appeared in Carve. She was named a finalist for a contest in Back Warrior Review and an honorable mention in Glimmer Train. This is her first published short story. She has worked to manage her bi-polar disorder for more than three decades.
