The sun is bright overhead as I write on Monday afternoon, a few hours before the solar eclipse is set to begin here in Central Massachusetts. We’re expecting that the moon will block about 90 percent of the sun at 3:28 p.m. I have my two pieces of cardboard to create a camera obscura, a pinhole in one piece through which I can project the eclipse’s image onto the other, so as not to fry my retinas.
On a day of a rare celestial phenomenon, it seems all the more appropriate to break from my routine here and share some good news that has nothing to do with scleroderma. I’ve occasionally menioned on this blog about writing my yet-to-be-published work of historical fiction, Line of Flight, set during the First World War. It’s the story of a mother’s journey to find her estranged daughter, who has run off to France with her beau to volunteer for the French ambulance corps. The good news: within the past few weeks, two excerpts from Line of Flight have published on two separate online literary journals.
And so, in an act of shameless self-promotion—and if you’d like to read something that will take your mind off this nasty disease and related medical concerns, or any other stress in your life—I share a few links:
- The opening of Line of Flight appears in the April 2024 edition of Embark, which presents openings of ten unpublished novels, twice a year. This happens to be their 20th issue, and I’m in good company. You can read my novel’s opening here.
- A chapter called “The Sinking” is in the spring 2024 edition of The Writing Disorder, an aptly named literary journal for those of us afflicted by this form of art. The action takes place on the fated last voyage of the Lusitania on May 7, 1915. Read it here.
- I’ve started a Substack newsletter, History Making, that digs into lessons learned from researching and writing historical fiction, as well as other works of historical fiction that I admire, the long and winding road to publication, and related topics. I’m publishing a post twice a month, and subscriptions are free. So, if you’re curious about the writer’s life and this genre of fiction, you can find it all here.
I said none of this has anything to do with my scleroderma—but that’s actually not quite true. When I was growing up, my hands were extremely dexterous. I could make any kind of art or craft, and I played numerous musical instruments. Once, when I was perhaps ten years old, I recall lying in bed and thinking about what it would be like to lose one of my senses. I decided I would never want to lose the touch of my gifted hands.
That was not to be. But I have realized over the decades of dealing with this disease that writing is my art form, my way of creating images and making music. It took me eight years and twelve drafts to get my manuscript to the point where I feel ready to seek publication. And I’ve been seeking an agent and/or publisher for the past two. That involves a lot of patience and persistence and a refusal to give up—all skills I’ve honed through living with scleroderma.
So, getting this far with my novel is a major milestone, indirectly inspired by managing a complex and chronic disease. And, with any luck, my manuscript will get into an enthusiastic publisher’s hands sooner than the next total eclipse of the sun.
Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.
Image: Jongsun Lee