Fri. 16 April 1976 – 2 PM – Train to Philly – a zombified redhead in suede coat, oversized purse & glasses. Lacking mirrors, we lose our faces. Got to get my emotional house in order but I can’t think how. I used to have a roadmap and none of this was on it. What am I? An idiot? No. Just an addict of spiritually orgasmic livnig. Still, all is grist for the art mill.
Reading The Fortunate Miss East, a charming, charming little novel. Aunt Fred picking me up – I’m scheduled to read my poetry at Baldwin School.
Zevin Towers – Wash DC 9:30 AM Wed 21 Apr 76
Baby sis Avril and I are totally broke. We are eating
our way thru Mom & Dad’s supplies. The grapenuts went first then the soup. Now we are on sauerkraut and spinach. Playing Fleetwood Mac & Jimmy Spheeris while sitting on the balcony looking over Rock Creek Park. You don’t see one building; Washington DC masquerades as a virgin world. I need a job by next Mon. Something tells me I can’t finish my novel and sell it in time. I refuse to be a cubicle drudge again so what is there? Nude modeling sounds dangerous. Topless dancing?
Avril admits she sits on a park bench instead of going to class as she told Mom! Uh oh. She says she just can’t “make herself” do things. What a relief to have someone worse off than me.
How I wish I could fall in love with Marc Kramer. He’s longing to buy jewelry for someone! I could sell that rather than the contents of this old folks’ apartment. But he’s too sane if anything andwears funny old man lace-up shoes.
Plus he’s covered in a thick mat of dark fur. And there’s his endless talk about shorts,hedges, futures. PARALYZINGLY DULL. Raining outside.
Isn’t life rotten?
10:50 AM Sun 2 May 76
Answered an ad for “go-go girl”. You wear fringed
bikinis and go-go boots and dance for the troops! No more than 2 gigs a day (gotta drive there) and each one only lasts an hour so $60 seems very generous.
She asked for my “experience” – I said I used to be a Maxim’s dancer! (I didn’t say it was for the nuns’ THEATRE SCHOOL in Minnesota!)
DeeDee is giving me my schedule tomorrow.
Tips are welcome because I don’t get paid till the 15th. Have to clean this apt and I don’t want to at all. Dad says apt lease up in two months so I’ll have to find somewhere else to live (Mom refuses to live here because 16th floor.) Dad says men are put off by us because Avril and I are too “masculine” by which he means determined, decisive and pleasure seeking. (A. very disappointed because she’s had two dates with Paul and no sex yet.) Reading Spink’s Hans Christian Andersen and his World – what a painful ugly duckling story!
Tues. 4 May 76 9:45 pm
Totally exhausted. Had to dance 2 hrs at Andrews
AFB because my partner didn’t show up (but it’s double the money.) Jefferson Starship’s Miracles my favorite song to dance to. Soldiers always want to play I’m A Man and that’s no fun. Of course I have seen Spencer Davis’ dark side up close while I was trailing around dragging an echo-plex after rockstar husband Bruce. Would be reading The Place at Whitton by Thos Keneally if I could keep my eyes open.
11:20 AM Sat 8 May 76
No word from Beautiful Faraway Perfect Man
Devon about whether he will ever visit, but speaking of attractive young men I had a “conversion experience” at the Ft. Myers’ officers club yesterday. I was registering at the front desk when this young man with dark curly hair and the face of an angel asked me who I was and what I was up to. I was wearing my go-go outfit plus military-style jacket so I did stand out. He wore a sweatband around his head and was all set for running but his plans changed in a flash. He would rather watch me dance instead.
His name is Frank and something Italian. Took me down to the dark Hideaway Club and watched me the whole time – playing and replaying the Pointer Sisters’ Chick on the Side. I gave him my number and he gave me a $20 tip. Does he represent a break from lonely masturbation? At this stage of my relationship with Devon I can hardly be unfaithful. We shall see.
Marc Kramer called offering to fly me to the island and back for Memorial Day weekend. I have $266 in the bank. Should I take him up on it? Just doesn’t feel right. Wouldn’t be able to get rid of him when I wanted to. I hate feeling “beholden.” Reading Norah Lofts’ Hauntings to help me with my ghost stories.
2:15 PM – Sun 9 May 76
Lying in bed surrounded by Sun papers. Have decided
to get tix for me and Avril to Royal Danish Ballet’s Triumph of Death,
Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet and All’s Well That Ends Well at the Folger Shakespeare Library. So glorious having money.
Tues. 2:30 pm 18 May 76
Guy came forward at the Army Navy Yard, offered
me his card and said I could make a whole lot more money dancing at his club. I have to admit this rushing around in a car is getting old – our Gremlin AKA the “el Diablo” is acting up. ThinkI will go to his club, talk to the other dancers and see what the scoop is. It is “topless”, but so what if you aren’t supposed to (or expected to) “fraternize’ with the audience. There is a stage.
Went to look at a townhouse off Dupont Circle – 2 bedroom, $435 a month but no place for dogs. Can’t live without my dogs forever.
Jeannie and I perform at a private party in Annandale. I am nervous but she is completely cool and they are content to look. Avril has a new man – Jack.
Wed 26 May 1976 – The Parkway East
Waiting my turn to go on. Thought I was going to have
dance alone but thank God Darby finally showed up – fucked up, but she can dance. (Her boyfriend brought her.) Phoned Devon – boy that was stupid – to see if he wanted to go to the island for Mem Day Weekend. He is playing in a tennis tournament and not “available”. Every time I reach out to him I feel like a sap. Never know whether his mysterious “tides” are “in” or “out”. He did his best to sound warm and affectionate but he is obviously very stressed – he was actually panting! Now he’ll have to meditate for a week. Must let this man go.
When I wail about him, Avril makes me laugh by saying, “He’s GAY! He just won’t admit it!” But I have to say in the sack he didn’t seem gay to me. Genevieve invites us to NYC for Mem Day weekend. She has filed for divorce and fallen in love with someone else. Ex Kent doesn’t know but she warns us he is calling everyone in the family begging us to intervene.
2 PM – 9 June 76
Sun night I invited Frank and his roommate to dinner.
Horrible. They were 45 mins late and my blintzes were ruined. Avril & roommate took against each other immediately. They brought Thai sticks, we refused to smoke. On an up note I took a cab to the Club Shalimar (Gremlin in shop) and the taxi driver was so excited about having a poet in his car he didn’t charge me. Said he had never met a poet before. (Gave him a poem on the spot.) Shalimar seems possible – other dancers like it but constant turnover; no one has been there long. Bouncer very nice, and I can take a bus there so A. can have car. Tempted to risk it.
11:05 PM – waiting for Jeannie in the empty Bethesda Naval Officers Club. She is giving me a ride home. She is an interesting person – has done a lot of nude modeling – showed me her portfolio. Very Playboy. Officers keep marching through in their whites. They are very polite.
Fri. 11 June 76 8:15 PM -
Things could hardly be worse. Got my hair cut the
other day – I only wanted a trim – he absolutely butchered me. It is barely shoulder length and it looks like a cow slept in it. I hate all hairdressers, gynecologists and dentists – you’re just completely helpless in their hands. Plus I got another piercing in each ear and the left one seems infected. Now my face looks crooked. Also having my period so I am swollen up like I’m pregnant. Avril has a college friend (male) coming for the weekend and she is beating herself up – “Why did I say yes?” She would call and cancel if only he had a phone.
On the plus side, tips at the Shalimar are really good and the dancing is as energetic as you feel like – which means standing there swaying is Just Fine. You can rock yourself to sleep if you want to. Of course my ego won’t allow too much relaxation.
Piece of good news – agent loves my gothic novel! Reading The Royal Victorians. Gremlin seems stabilized so Avril applied for a job as a driver with a messenger service.
Fri. 18 June 76 ll:00 Am
A’s friend a complete bozo. Fortunately he has other
places to be so we hardly see him. Huge sigh of relief and lesson learned. Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal the silver. DeeDee and I come to a Sad Parting of the Ways – her money too small, gas costs, etc.
A and I got a wonderful 3 bedroom in Chevy Chase on a charming little side street but the landlord very snooty about only 2 tenants. We said OK, OK. Big yard. I can have my dogs! Moving in July 5. Struggling with Christina Stead’s Puzzleheaded Girl. She is overrated. Maybe I can’t read fiction any more.
Fri 25 June 76 – Club Shalimar
Eating free scrambled eggs the cook gave me:
“Somebody’s got to eat them” while waiting to go on. A lot of interesting men come into this place. None perfect obviously – and unfortunately I need more than perfection. I need mysticism, competence and money-earning capabilities. Shalimar owner seems to be something of a gangster.
I got 2 standing ovations today.
The job is actually enjoyable. I am really getting into it – dancing for pleasure – for the connection with the audience. They stare spellbound like deer in the headlights. Feel like I’m living in a Simenon novel as I learn the ins and outs.
Avril loves her new job – thank God – they want her to do dispatch (no wear and tear on fragile Gremlin) and the drivers are all foreigners who don’t know the city. She’s always yelling at them to “Look out the car window and tell me what you see.”
Met the most charming little man – a TV director at a local station – speaks sign language, is a magician and a karate black belt, he’s just so full of joie de vivre. His name is Ryder and his excitement about me puts my non-relationship with Devon in a new light. Reading Meyer’s Ibsen.
1:15 AM – Sat 3 July 76
We’re supposed to “wait” in the dressing room
but they don’t seem to care if you don’t so I spend all my time talking to Ryder. He says he’s just separating from his wife and it’s extremely traumatic. They have been together since high school. He’s a tad hyper – always on the go, but very entertaining. He usually brings me gifts – flowers, magazines, stuffed toys and cards. Also he’s a diver and underwater photog. Today he brought pink roses.
Avril warns me not to fall in love. Just date. Easy to say! I want security, privacy, ecstasy, exclusivity… and love. It’s a problem!
The oilman came to the house today says he’s shocked we have no credit references and will have to pay COD! Fortunately, I had just got off work and I had the cash on me but I don’t like it at all. Guess we won’t need much oil till winter. Let’s hope.
Ryder gave me a long spiel about how he gave another dancer a ride home (Darlene) and she expected him to go to bed with her and he said, I don’t do that. I could tell he was sounding me out! I said, I don’t either! No sex, ever! Sex, bad. He laughed till it hurt and he begged for mercy.
Poor Avril had a long hard day – 7:30 AM to 6:30! I promised to take her out to eat at Steak & Egg if she picks me up. She said make it Bob’s and it’s a deal.
Sat 10 July 76 – 9 pm – Shalimar 7 hours packing at Zevin Towers before I showed up here.
10:30 AM Tues 6 July 76 Sitting on a mattress on the floor of my Tyler St
bedroom surrounded by a jumble of stuff. So exciting starting a New Life. This time I am waiting for the gasman – if he doesn’t come by 1 pm I have to leave.
9:25 PM – sitting in the Shalimar dressing room eating a plum. Last night A and I saw Antonioni’s The Passenger. Goes down with La Prisonniere, Persona, Pierrot Le Fou and Weekend as one of my favorite all-time films. So perfectly constructed it was like a series of Canalettos. Ryder just asked me if I wanted to go to dinner some- time. I said sure. He asked me about a lot of Italian food I didn’t recognize – I said I like everything. Covered with sweat from dancing to ”No one knows what its like to be the bad man…” have to take it really slow, freezing in a series of poses. Then suddenly I meet someone’s eyes and he drops his drink.
I hate packing. Getting to be a bit of a trial having Ryder in the bar all the time. His expressions embarrass me to dance around him. I said I thought this place was full of stories. He said, don’t stay here just to pick up stories. He said he would “subsidize” me to keep me from “doing this.” Hmmmm. Right after talking about how little money he’ll have when he splits with his wife!
He’s been offered a job in Detroit for a lot more money – that’s how they get ahead in his business – jump from station to station. I told him he should take it – turned out that was the “wrong thing” because he hoped I’d want him here. But I told him, I’m a citizen of the world. I can go anywhere. Fear only empty experiences. So he says, why are you doing this? I said, to meet you. Otherwise he is perfect. So charming, smart and funny, with so much ambition, spirituality and humility.
4 sets left – then 2 days off. Just bought 3 costumes from Sunny for $30. Feeling personally confident in a way I haven’t for years. R invites me out to dinner next week. Have to buy special shoes so I won’t be too tall and tower over him. Today marks year and a half since my separation from Bruce.
“If you don’t have a loving relationship with yourself, no one else will.”
Several times on your path you will feel the need to “re-boot” and start over. “Rebirth” is available to us any time, following a period of reflection, retreat and re-centering.
“Recovery” begins to happen we manage to repel a demonic force that kept us in thrall – addiction, illusion, corruption, compulsive behavior; even a poisonous culture. Sometimes, we were hostage to another human being who didn’t have our best interests at heart.
What ARE our best interests? As our brains begin to clear we begin to understand. Ernest Hemingway used to say we are “stronger at the broken places” and Nietzsche expressed it as “what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger” but obviously these maxims only hold true if a complete healing has taken place.
Complete healing provides peace as well as joy. We give thanks that we have started on the journey.
Second Chances – Expect to stumble. Watching toddlers try to “rise and walk” we must consider what a good thing it is that they don’t mind being laughed at. (In fact, they love it.) It takes them quite awhile to figure out this new challenge. Like beginning skiers, they cling to objects, sway exaggeratedly back and forth, slam into others, and plop down SPLAT; not just once or twice but over and over. In fact the toddler hasn’t been born who suddenly vaults up suavely and starts swanning around in a sophisticated manner.
And those are the ones with no impediment to walking – watched hungrily by the less fortunate who only wish they could be blessed with this magical opportunity to make public fools of themselves.
Once we take in the meaning of these facts we embrace the last step of Recovery: “Expect to go splat.” Of course we don’t WANT to – fingers crossed – it’s dangerous and bruising. We’d better arrange to have someone around – just in case. But you don’t fail unless you refuse to rise again. Don’t even bother counting the times you were “brave”. It’s only the “getting back up” that counts. As long as you’re doing that, you’re a true winner.
As we study ourselves with a desire to put our best foot forward we are increasingly overwhelmed with despair. This old self won’t do. We are the club no one wants to join; us included.
We have to ask ourselves if part of our desire for the Other is a longing to be rid of Self. But how is this to be accomplished, when we know that any relationship built on fakery must surely fail. How can a New Self be the Real One?
Fortunately, there is a model for this in the recovery movement – legions of people giving up self-destructive habits and birthing a fresh new self. They say the relief is glorious, everything is more meaningful as their confidence grows. We want some of that. We must abjure all the behavior that have caused us suffering in the past. What are they, exactly? Let’s identify and enhance the wonderful things about us, the self we want to keep.
And in the Hour of Our Death
I am wind sucked The tempest starts without me Scuttled like a leaf
I loose your hand My words come fire My blood blasts forth
And vomits out This darkness Some god commands
I push I flee – I won’t be born – I push
And then relax. It can’t happen all at once. The corpses dance
The trees devour their own roots I’m spat like pulp I push –
I’ve gone too far To get back now. I’ve lost your cord
Threaded in the frenzy That is life. My lips are ceremonies
My hips are burial grounds. Silence rushes in to bear me up and I explode To atoms.
What is this new lightness? Into this furnace of stars I collapse my burdens like
A house of cards, I soar, I flirt My strength Is limitless
We are all Sun Worshippers. It is easy to understand how this star became a deity to the ancients considering it warms and replenishes us into activity and strength. Turns out, all of us are batteried by solar power, just like the reptiles. Our doctors and cosmetologists tell us to “stay out of the sun” and get our Vitamin D in a pill but we ignore them, drawn by the need to sun ourselves on the nearest rock, eyes closed into seeming vulnerability while our planet perpetually circles this fiery blaze. The Sun therefore represents in our lives a nourishing force which could make us stupid should we over-indulge.
Light defeats darkness. To understand what this means we need to shed any “nocturnal prejudices” we may have and concentrate on light as the necessary enabler of Sight. In total darkness, we are at a loss; we see nothing. To “shed light” on a problem means to finally “see” it for what it is. Light, in other words, is knowledge. Understanding. We finally get it! It’s the “forehead clapping” moment when the “magic picture” resolves itself into shapes that make sense. Without this basic road map we are unmoored – can make no meaningful plans.
Light, then is the Beginning of Intelligence. Light is Truth. It helps us to see each other for what we really are so we can forge meaningful connections, create meaningful plans and map out shared goals. Even the blind can make important use of Light – and all of us are partially blind in one way or another. But it is what we can “see” –and share – that matters.
If Truth is so important, why do we all lie? The religion of advertising is both ethos and atmosphere in American life. A policy of presenting yourself in “your best light” becomes researching other people’s needs and weaknesses to find out what they can’t resist and pretending you’re that thing. This is no way to locate a Soulmate.
The anger, suspicion and mistrust, the contempt, derision and manipulation behind these ideas does not magically go away. Therefore, we hate others for forcing us to be fake, and they hate us for not accepting their real selves. It’s a perfect storm of secret rage that torpedoes any possibility of authentic relationships.
The way out is to commit to a different “religion” – that of honesty and sharing. But honesty requires knowing oneself, and we’ve discussed how difficult (and discouraging) that can be. Still, there’s no other way. We are who we’ve BEEN, who we ARE, but also who we WANT to be. And we need to want to be that person for a better reason than it looks good on TikTok or it might exert appeal over someone who turns us on.
Fearful that you’ll be lonely forever? Au contraire! It turns out all of us have been yearning to bask in the comfort, the promise, the safety of reality, a place where growing things can freely evolve and connect, in peace.
SUNBATHER
Poor periwinkle hides within the final spiny spiral of his shell, no stronghold that from hungry file-worms’ whippet tongues nor sun-mad amateur biologists nor ten year olds; while I more evolved, lie among the oval-jointed shells, the sheepswool sponges, camouflage my breasts as comb-jellies, my hair as seaweed, fooling none yet impressing those I can’t deceive.
Can Goddesses afford to relax? Seems counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Well, Lesson #1 is that being a goddess is Counterintuitive. Other people rush away from the burning building – planning on being EVEN MORE SCARED the next time. Well, we are going to master our fear. We are going in.
Everybody Panics – I had a panic attack at age 5 (I got lost outside a movie theatre) and another at age 11 when I descended deep, deep, deep into a cave. (I think the guide was deliberately trying to scare us.) I didn’t know at the time what these episodes were – my parents and sisters saw them as embarrassing annoyances – but looking back it’s clear what was happening to me physically as a result of what was happening to me mentally.
Relaxation In the Face of Panic – Learning to tolerate psychic dissonance, to be interested in it and challenged by it is what we’re all about. It’s a sign that we’re in the presence of the Deep Stuff – the things that galvanize our deep subconscious and if we can just seize control of that, we’ll access our true power.
Learn Relaxation Techniques – There are so many and you should experiment with all of them! Learn what works for you and – key – what you enjoy. You will find yourselves using these techniques all the time. To get to sleep, to get through difficult experiences or just to access your subconscious when you have a question.
Breathe Deeply – The very first thing is mastering control of the breath. Pregnant women learn all kinds of helpful breathing techniques in Lamaze; panting, counting; deliberately slowing down and speeding up your breathing. In yoga you will learn Lion Breaths to make you feel powerful. They are very similar to the gasps and shouts in martial arts and will affect your opponents. Watch the Maori war dance on YouTube.
Get Out Your Training Journal – write down the techniques and your reactions. Appoint a time to practice these every day. Your breath connects you to the universe and all living things.
Models & Mentors: “The first thing to learn is the breath.” –Confucius
‘Breathe In. Let Go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure, and give thanks for that.”
– Oprah Winfrey
‘Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor” –
(Scene 4. The conservatory. VIRGINIA sits unmoving before a tea-table. Enter LEONARD.)
LEONARD I see I am in time for tea. May I join you?
VIRGINIA I can’t stop you.
LEONARD
(daringly pulls his chair to the table)
How are you feeling?
VIRGINIA Like a helpless baby on the shore of life, turning over pebbles. The ocean tosses me pebbles and I turn them over, one by one. I’m naked, a child, and no one helps me.
LEONARD I want to help you. May I pour? Lovely cakes.
(he pours two cups, carefully serves her a cake, takes one himself, munches and sips)
Delicious. Sir George keeps an excellent cook.
VIRGINIA His brain is in his stomach. Or rather, he has a stomach instead of a brain but no one’s noticed. I’m afraid the tea is cold. They won’t let me have a spirit lamp in case I set the place on fire, like mad Mrs. Rochester in Jane Eyre.
LEONARD The tea is perfect. Oolong, I notice. May I sugar yours?
VIRGINIA You’re certainly sugaring everything else. Why are you in such a good mood?
LEONARD I’m happy to see you looking so well. What have you been thinking?
VIRGINIA That I want to write a novel about silence. Depression interests me. One could make a game of assembling the fractured pieces, capturing the things people don’t say. How deeply they drive themselves into me, those things people daren’t say aloud! It seems everyone is in agreement that the truth of women must be suppressed. Repress, control. If I am going to write all this I will need a different word than novel or people won’t know what to expect. Elegy, perhaps?
LEONARD You were born to write, Virginia. Your book is beautiful. I mean The Voyage Out.
VIRGINIA My book? My poor sad, dull novel which shall certainly be abused? A whole made painfully from shivering fragments. “The spring, bare and bright like a virgin fierce in her chastity, scornful in her purity, was laid on fields entirely careless of beholders.” I tried to speak truth but I collapsed under the burden of my failure.
LEONARD You can’t think how I envy you your spring of fantastic imagination. It’s beautifully written. But it’s so very sad. Tell me, why must Rachel die before the wedding?
VIRGINIA Because the fiancé is based on Clive and who would ever want to marry him?
LEONARD Nessa did.
VIRGINIA He kept his real face very well hidden. The things he says about me to others! Adrian showed me the letters!
LEONARD He’s angry because you refused him. Clive’s a monster. We’re in complete agreement. What if we eliminated monsters from your life? What would you write next?
VIRGINIA It’s not possible to eliminate monsters. Look at this new war they’re brewing. War is a stupid, violent, hateful, idiotic, trifling, mean, ignoble display. Why should I dare to love you when you will only fight and die, trodden underfoot in some soggy foreign field?
LEONARD
You won’t get rid of me that easily. Dr. Craig has given me a dispensation because of my tremor.
VIRGINIA
So you’ve seen Dr. Craig. Is he as stupid as the others?
LEONARD
He thinks we need to design a healthy life. I think so too. And because your healthy life is writing, I want to hear about what you’ll write next.
VIRGINIA (dreamily)
I want to write about the islands of light swimming through the grass. I want to show the peace, the unity in the smallest flower – but whenever I try the great ugly beast on the beach stamps and snorts.
LEONARD What beast?
VIRGINIA He is chained, but he pulls at his chain. I’m so afraid – he might escape.
LEONARD Is this a memory, Virginia?
VIRGINIA What have we but memory? Women are the beggars of every family; memory is our only treasure, the only dowry we inherit. Tell the truth, said father. But mother said sometimes a lie is better than the truth, because of feelings. You must spare people’s feelings, but only if they have the right feelings. What if their feelings are false to begin with? My feelings were never the right ones. Father was my writing teacher, did I tell you that?
LEONARD And what was his recipe?
VIRGINIA He said only write the truth and say exactly what you mean.
LEONARD If only that were possible! You saw how I botched my turn.
VIRGINIA But the truth is that when father died, I hated him. I was so relieved to be free of the exacting tyrant, the histrionic, self-pitying, violent, deaf, alternately loved and hated father. We all were. We fled that house, from a crypt slimy with fungus, disgusting with mold, gushing a sour stench of decay.
(A catch in her voice)
How we rejoiced! But in truth we had graduated from a life of suppressed rage into one of perpetual mourning. In my fantasies, Father confesses and repents his crimes, asking my forgiveness. But he could never do that, really. Everyone saw him as the pinnacle of reason and privilege, yet he felt ill-used by everyone he knew, even by life itself. I wonder, was he haunted by a devil, by some demon? Was it not he, himself, but something sitting on his shoulder that pecked at us so fiercely?
LEONARD Naturally he grieved when your mother died. He must have altered greatly then.
VIRGINIA My mother’s death was the greatest disaster that could possibly have happened. Father sat through countless meals groaning aloud about how he wished to die. Do you know, it is my worst fear that I will become like him. It is a fate more to be feared than madness, to my mind. He is inexplicable. Extraordinarily gifted, godlike, yet somehow childlike. There was an infantile fixation! Bubbling up from some dark place, I suppose, below the level of conscious thought. But he was protected by society, as we were not. In the privacy of our home he seemed unbound by any of the laws of ordinary people. Yet he desired constant pity! We were the ones forced to be self-controlled and coolly analytical, plotting ways to get around him. But when he shouted at Nessa I hated him so much I could have killed him myself. Our punishment came when Thoby died. Violet and Vanessa also were stricken with typhoid but only the sheltered males perished.
LEONARD Thoby’s death wasn’t punishment. Thoby died of a typhoid germ. If these men are fragile as you say, how could your father be the brute you dreamed of, stamping on the beach?
VIRGINIA All you men are brutes, with your gaming, your competitions, your subjugation and your wars. Men use knives, to cut things, to sacrifice, while women use needle and thread, to sew them up. But nothing’s as good once it’s been repaired. When my father threw a fish into the bottom of the boat, I felt I suddenly was that fish, flopping, gasping, drowning in the very air all had sworn was safe to breathe. I had more in common with waves and seabirds than with that man.
LEONARD Now Virginia, you mustn’t get excited.
VIRGINIA The great secret is not to feel. Strong feelings create an abyss between oneself and others. No one ever says anything they really mean. I am bored by men and their silly violence and wars. I detest the masculine point of view. I am bored by heroism, virtue and honor. Men’s acquisitive instincts cause them to desire other people’s fields and goods, to make frontiers and flags, battleships and poison gas, to offer up their own lives and their children’s lives. Why should I submit to them, why endure a lifetime of unpaid service to their shoddy interests?
LEONARD I agree we are a disgusting species. But man’s only locomotion is logic and reason. We must never give up.
VIRGINIA Go away, Leonard. I can’t bear to hear you lie to me.
LEONARD I’m not lying when I say I want you to get well more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
VIRGINIA Don’t bother making me feel guilty, I already know I’m wasting your life. If only I weren’t so stupid a Mandrill, so unworthy of her poor, virtuous outsider Mongoose who is so thin, who trembles so much and who tries so hard. You have headaches too, you suffer from recurring malaria. Why should you toil so that I can be idle? I know these doctors’ bills are crushing us. Nessa sold the silver, I sold the jewelry, Thoby sold the Thackeray letters. What’s left, Leonard? Will you scheme with them to isolate me until there’s nothing left?
LEONARD I can earn money writing. I’ve proved that. You can earn money writing, you’ve proved that. But to get back in the fight we must be hardy and strong.
VIRGINIA I should never have married you. What kind of a wife can I ever be? Save yourself, Leonard. It’s too late for me. Let the wind blow, let the poppy seed itself, let the carnation mate with the cabbage. Let the swallow build her nest in the drawing room where the thistle thrusts between the tiles. Let all civilization be like broken china tangled over with blackberries and grass.
LEONARD That you demand so much of existence, still fighting as you sit among George’s flowers, shows you’re feeling better. What we must do is keep up the strengthening. A few more days, Virginia.
VIRGINIA But how can I return to you? There’s the undisputed fact of my sexual cowardice. Perhaps it’s really nothing but my terror of real life that keeps me in this nunnery. I tried telling my parents but they didn’t want to hear. Parents have forgotten their own childhood. Or they don’t want to remember.
LEONARD What did you try to tell them? You can say anything to me.
VIRGINIA I saw the spirits of evil as soon as I could speak, but because I was a girl child I was not supposed to know. Each child hugs its vice, brooding over the swollen vein, the bruised flesh that was white and sweet but yesterday.
LEONARD I told my parents that life is unquestionably vile and humanity’s nothing but an ant heap. Parents never want to hear that.
VIRGINIA That’s what I love about you, Leonard. You at least will speak the truth. Sometimes.
LEONARD It’s a fallacy to think that children are happy. They’re not. I never suffered so much as when I was a child. Children never forget injustice. But here is the heart of it, Virginia. What we write depends upon what we think. What “spirits of evil” did you see?
VIRGINIA Going to practice Dr. Head’s talking cure on me, are you? Is that the plan? I could make up a dozen stories – I see a dozen pictures. But when I open my mouth I am locked up and shut away. What is my true story? Something lies deeply buried. Shall I grasp it or let it mortify in the depths of my mind? I want to describe the world seen without a self. But I am afraid that there is no future. There are no words.
LEONARD There are words, and there is a future we shall make. Tell me. Tell me everything.
VIRGINIA When I was young, I dug furiously to uncover myself. When I discovered that I was me and not anyone else it seemed a wonderful achievement. Once I sat beside my stepsister Stella on roots as hard as skeletons, and the next day she was a skeleton. It’s strange how the dead leap out on us at street corners or in dreams. Don’t you remember that morning at breakfast when I saw my mother? You said she wasn’t there.
LEONARD I saw nothing.
VIRGINIA Cambridge educated everything but your eyes. What is the hope of talking to you? That was the morning was when I first became aware of the enemies who change but are always present; the forces we must fight even though we suffer terribly becoming separate bodies. Don’t you recognize the enemy advancing against us, pawing at his pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy.
LEONARD Marriage is the opposing force against death. A marriage of true minds can fight all enemies. Once upon a time we shared our thoughts, and fell in love. I needed someone who could hold her own, and there you were. You are the only wife I ever wanted, the only woman I have ever loved. Please, Virginia, I want you to come back to me.
VIRGINIA
(dazzled)
Oh to be a wife, to be wanted, would be so complete! Is it possible, Leonard, after the terrors, the disgusting dangers we have seen?
LEONARD If it isn’t I don’t want to live either.
(She holds out a hand to him. They clutch hands briefly)
VIRGINIA Sit down, Leonard. You look silly on your knees.
(She looks away. LEONARD sits)
VIRGINIA I used to make the family laugh. They thought me clever. But when I chased the evil spirits through a hole in the escallonia hedge, I resolved to tell the exact truth and write down the phenomena I’d seen. But no one believed me, and at that moment the laughter turned against me. I said, must not we find some way to get outside ourselves, to give our brains a wider scope? My parents declared God was dead and the world empty and meaningless. Father said to be weak is to be wretched. He said that Society is a ravenous appetite, and Nature is a state of war. You’ve laughed at me behind my back, I know you have. You, my own husband, want to get rid of me, to lock me up forever and steal my money.
LEONARD I love you, Virginia. Maybe it’s a bad thing to love you as much as I do – it cuts me off from the outside world. But the outside world is worthless and your world is so rich. When I went away to school for the first time I was shocked and appalled by the horrifying corruption of dirty-minded schoolboys. It marked me. Then I realized all of humanity are mean, nasty, untruthful, cowardly, and cruel. Perhaps I’ve been searching for a world that doesn’t exist.
VIRGINIA Perhaps we both have.
LEONARD If you will care for your health – if you will allow me to care for your health – you’ll recover. As you’ve recovered before.
VIRGINIA Nessa won’t rest till I’m brought low. When she was ill with typhoid Savage wanted to put her in a home but I backed her up! I told Savage I would care for her. Now look at what she’s done to me. You betrayed our secret, telling Nessa I’m a frigid failure as a wife. She told Clive and now everyone knows. They’re all laughing, jeering. plotting behind my back. You were sent to Ceylon to break the natives and now you’ve been sent to break me. I have been derided, insulted, sacrificed and betrayed, by all of you.
LEONARD Virginia, I am on your side. My eyes were opened in Ceylon. I was an anti-imperialist wallowing in the fleshpots of imperialism. But I changed. Now I support the independence movement with all my heart. All problems can be solved by science and logic, Virginia. It was I who was a failure as a husband. It was my marital duty to arouse you but you seemed so afraid of me. At my wit’s end, I asked your older sister for help.
VIRGINIA Does she offer lessons in humiliation? She knows how better than anyone. Is it my fault that I hate my legs being pried apart? I should never have married you, but I couldn’t bear to remain a spinster. I was struggling at everything, and you seemed so different. You said you liked women. You said you admired women’s minds.
LEONARD It’s true. Women feel more deeply, think more deeply, talk more deeply.
VIRGINIA Yet men demand obedience. You want me to obey you but I never will. You know nothing about me. Did you know that before I tried to die I read a book? Would you like to know which one?
LEONARD Which book did you read?
VIRGINIA It was your book. Your book that I read.
LEONARD My book?
VIRGINIA Your book about me.
LEONARD (a gratified author, in spite of everything)
You read The Wise Virgins? What did you think?
VIRGINIA So you admit it’s about me!
LEONARD Virginia, please. I’d love to discuss my book with you.
(She hesitates, turning away her face, then facing him with rage)
VIRGINIA
You locked me away so I’d never find out!
LEONARD You were ordered rest cures long before you met me! I don’t believe in guilt or blame. Honestly, I wanted you to read my book as soon as you were well.
VIRGINIA I won’t be stamped and stereotyped. You have publicly lampooned me as a frozen, dowdy, fussy, futile woman.
LEONARD Not true at all. I called you my Aspasia.
VIRGINIA “Cold and snowy, like the rocks.” You said.
LEONARD I’m a bad writer. I agree. I’ve got nothing of your genius. I can never explain what I really want to say. If it’s any comfort to you no one else likes or understands it either. Sales are awful. All I was attempting to do was contrast the world of a poor Jew from Putney with the rarified aristocratic Olympus for which he yearns.
VIRGINIA You hold my world in contempt because you can never be a gentleman.
LEONARD Virginia, you hold “your world” in contempt.
VIRGINIA And then the hero marries the other girl. The stupid, cow-eyed one! It’s a betrayal.
LEONARD It’s just a bad novel, I’ll give you that. Don’t laugh at me. Not everyone is born with your gifts. Consider my perspective. Any rational mind must inevitably face disillusion and depression. I tried to show how poor Harry just couldn’t escape his past. He couldn’t but I think we can. I probably shouldn’t have published it but Arnold was willing and I couldn’t bear to waste all that work and all that suffering.
VIRGINIA What can you, a prizewinning Apostle from Cambridge, an imperialist potentate of a subject country, possibly know of real suffering?
LEONARD Virginia, I’m a Jew from Putney. All my life I’ve been spat upon. Job is the only book of the Bible I ever understood. Who ridiculed who first? I trained myself to avoid personal feeling. Admit you despised me. Your set. You made me into a joke.
VIRGINIA My set despises everyone. That’s what we do. It’s self-defense, from growing up amongst the most monumental hypocrites.
LEONARD You despised me personally. Be honest. You hated kissing me. You could barely bring yourself to marry me.
VIRGINIA But I did it, didn’t I!
LEONARD You wanted to shock them. You were competing with Nessa to see who could be most scandalous.
VIRGINIA I wouldn’t dare compete with Nessa. Competition is a male thing. It’s a brutal, endless game. I think all competition should be abolished.
LEONARD But it’s all you ever do! Your flirtation with her husband –
VIRGINIA (cringes visibly)
Oh God, not that. Somehow that memory turns a knife in me more than anything. How it catches at me, the fangs of that old pain. I know I lost Vanessa forever. She will never forgive me. I simply couldn’t comprehend why she married such a strange, intolerable creature with his twitching pink skin and a jerky laugh. Before Clive, Nessa and I drifted together on a sea of seducing half-brothers, hiding together beneath the dining room table. We spoke a special animal language.
LEONARD But you were no longer children. Vanessa waited till twenty-eight to marry.
VIRGINIA Who would willingly grow up? I never wanted to. As soon as you’re pushed out of the nursery, the happy moments vanish. Vanessa was the bowl of golden water that brims but never overflows. I lie prostrate at her shrine and still she won’t forgive me. When she brought home friends from the Slade they laughed at me behind the door. You can’t think what it feels like, having one’s self so thoroughly extinguished.
LEONARD I do know it. That was my exact experience at both St. Paul’s and Cambridge. St. Paul’s was a disgusting brothel, but at Trinity I met G. E. Moore. He taught me how to ask the important questions.
VIRGINIA
And what are the important questions?
LEONARD The most important question is why. Why can’t Vanessa forgive a mere flirtation? She must know by now that Clive sets out to bed every woman he meets. You at least resisted him.
VIRGINIA But I did wrong. Clive and I made common cause against my sister, his own wife. Some things should be sacred.
LEONARD
Wasn’t it true that he respected your intellectual work more than he could ever appreciate Vanessa’s daubs?
VIRGINIA Leonard! How can you!
LEONARD
If it’s the truth, shouldn’t we say so?
VIRGINIA
I tried speaking the truth, yet here I am locked up among the imbeciles. And weren’t we just arguing whether all imbeciles should be killed?
LEONARD You’re hardly “locked up with the imbeciles” at Dalingridge Hall!
VIRGINIA You’re wrong. In this castle beats the very heart of idiocy and evil. Aren’t you the one who said the most dangerous imbeciles are running the nation? Here I am at home among the hunters, where the miner sweats and dies and maiden faith is rudely strumpeted.
LEONARD But you used to love George! He told me you’d make an adorable wife.
VIRGINIA Perhaps I’ve been given too much time to think. Get a sense of proportion, the doctors keep telling me. So now I stare for the first time into the very mouth of doom. Look your last on all things lovely.
LEONARD Virginia, if you don’t want to be called crazy, you really must explain yourself. Whatever do you mean?
VIRGINIA George behaved little better than a brute. He never let me alone for a moment. That he was the pet of duchesses hardly excuses him. And yet it was Gerald who broke my hymen, when I was six years old. It’s a painful process. and now I freeze like ice. Give up on me, Leonard, there’s no awakening the dead. I’m ruined by incest, I’ve even desired my own sister. I’m locked up because I stew in murder, just as Laura did. I long to slice Gerald’s fat, transparent flesh, to take a rifle and shoot George directly in his smug, piggy face. Or could I bag him with a net and killing bottle? And why shouldn’t I turn on my tormentors? I suffered, I was helpless, why should I be the one forced to writhe with shame? I longed to be petted but instead was trapped in a cage with lions as sulky and angry as they were ferocious. I’m just a little monkey and little monkeys are too easily squashed and trampled. It’s too late for me, Leonard. My body is spoiled forever by George and Gerald.
LEONARD (shocked)
George? Gerald? These are pillars of society, your own half-brothers! It’s so unbelievable.
VIRGINIA George drowned us in kisses, me and Vanessa. Each kiss was an amputation. I used to sign my work, “One of the Drowned.” Oh, those horrible parties! The oppressive gatherings of Stephenses ground one to a pulp. Because I wanted to discuss Plato I was told I had no conversation. George was so angry! After I removed my ball gown and stripped off my gloves and stockings, he would come into my room and lock the door.
LEONARD But how can any of this be true? How could nobody have noticed it?
VIRGINIA Everyone did notice it. People contrive to bend it to the conventional heroic shape because he kept insisting on the purity of his love. I saw him kissing Countess Carnarvon behind a pillar at the opera! And now she’s his mother-in-law. I asked to join the British Sex Society, dedicated to the study of parent/child incest, but they wouldn’t let me in. Now that you know, you’ll have to spit in George’s face at the club.
LEONARD We don’t belong to the same clubs.
VIRGINIA Then when you thank him for this execrable house, challenge him to a duel. Will he at least feel some regret? Will he take the pigeon gun and blast himself instead? Then the aristocracy will hate me because it’s all my fault. Yet is it not a noble work, letting light in upon the evil Duckworths? Probably he’ll feel nothing. Possibly some vague imbalance.
LEONARD Let’s try to be objective, Virginia.
VIRGINIA If only I could! What a luxury that would be! How I hunger for the objectivity of beloved Macaulay or the stern analysis of cherished Carlyle. Lockhart’s ten volume Life of Scott was the best present I ever received. Reading relieves all my pain, but they won’t let me read anything here. In spite of them I’m continuing to learn. Only life itself matters, nothing but life – and the process of discovery, the everlasting perpetual process, and not the thing itself at all.
LEONARD
Virginia, I am speechless.
VIRGINIA
Now you know how it feels. I used to think it would be enough to have someone share my loneliness. But if no one believes me, the solitude is total. The Duckworths are guilty of nameless atrocities, and you’re complicit. You locked me away here, so I couldn’t speak. As soon as I open my mouth they try to destroy me. It’s a conspiracy of hush.
LEONARD If this is something you’ve only just remembered how can it possibly be true? It sounds mad.
VIRGINIA I don’t think memory is always at the forefront, Leonard. There’s only so much a human being can bear. Memory comes and goes. One requires tools to think with, to make sense of one’s experience, and these tools are alternately dull and sharp.
LEONARD Well, there are some things no one wants to think about.
VIRGINIA It’s clearer in my mind than the bad, stodgy meal I was force-fed yesterday. Our summer place at St. Ives, in the dining room; I must have been six years old. Eighteen-year-old Gerald lifted me up to a high ledge and explored my private parts. I fought and I struggled but I couldn’t get away. I could see his face in the dining room mirror. It was the face of a demon. I’ve seen that face since, on the drooling men who expose themselves in the park. Now I no longer look in mirrors. I can’t cross a puddle. The depth looks back at me, concealing malicious, hairy arms to reach out and grab. I can’t go forward, I am stuck in the loop of the six, no power even to lift my legs.
LEONARD The loop of the six? I don’t understand.
VIRGINIA
I was learning numbers. Six was my number. But I couldn’t close the loop.
LEONARD
This was Gerald you say? But Gerald is your publisher!
VIRGINIA I know! If I am not a madwoman, then the world itself is mad. What was I to do? I wrote a book and my incestuous brother was a publisher! Who else would even look at my work? When I delivered my manuscript to Gerald I was in such acute despair – so near the precipice!
LEONARD Did you tell anyone?
VIRGINIA I told Nessa and she told Dr. Savage. Who is an idiot, as you well know.
LEONARD I can’t believe it. Gerald seems so – so – well, ordinary. So completely controlled.
VIRGINIA Get out of here! I’m sorry I told you. I wish I was dead!
(She is tearing at her own throat – he rushes forward to hold her hands down, lifting her body out of the chair)
The use of force is all you know!
LEONARD Virginia, I love you.
(He kisses her neck, she becomes a dead weight. He lowers her carefully into the chair, arranges a blanket on her knees)
VIRGINIA When you touch me, I feel nothing. My body goes dead. That’s how I froze when George came into my room, night after night.
LEONARD Oh, Beloved!
VIRGINIA Don’t. He called me that. I don’t want to be loved, I want to be believed.
After my fiancé graduated law school in Kentucky, we came East – where our families lived – to get married. I applied to Brooklyn College for the MFA program and was hired as a writing fellow. What followed was an experience so discouraging I can well understand why graduate students are at a high risk of suicide.
First, there’s the contrast between the high prestige of the position and the pitiable pay. You could literally make more money (and spend the same amount of time) combing the subway for lost change.
Next, there’s the “job” they want you to do, which is to prepare seriously undereducated freshman to write an essay justifying their admission into the hallowed world of academe.
I had fun developing my own syllabus, which was basically teaching critical thinking in the most fun way I could possibly imagine. A teacher “reviewer” who came to watch the class wrote me a rave review – I don’t think anyone in my life has ever praised me as much as he did. I still cherish that evaluation. But don’t get excited – the second guy (months later) disparaged me so much that if you add the two reviews together I think you’d have to give me a sad C-. But at that point, They Knew About Me – that I had no college degree -and so they were trying to get rid of me. Really, you can’t blame them – how could I prepare students to get something I didn’t have myself? And what – you may ask – was wrong with MY thinking and reasoning powers that I had not expected this?
The truth is, I had flouted “rules” all my life – they always seemed ridiculous – and because I was a “rara avis” I usually got away with it. But clearly, this could not continue. Much chastened by my brush with the universe (which represented itself as “sanity”) I did go ahead and get a BA degree in psychology from LaSalle. I even got half a masters under my belt from Springfield College until I saw that it was useless.
But back to Brooklyn. There were classes I took, of course, in WRITING – which was my absorbing interest and passion. I kept the fact that I had actually published a novel a secret because the class expressed such a tragic belief that being published was their deepest desire and most desperate and holy quest. I knew that it was the writing of the book itself – finding the subject AND the expression that was your spiritual release into the world – that was the most important absorbing and exciting. My first book was written to specifications – what was “popular” – under the ingenuous theory that I would develop important publishing relationships (my editor lost her job, my company bought out and revamped.) You could hardly brag about an experience like that.
For my class on the Novel I decided to write a novel. I thought it would be fun. If you wrote a chapter every week you would have a novel at the end.
One of my classmates was an ex-nun – a most interesting person – whose experiences strongly affected me. I effortlessly adapted her into my heroine, because my book was a mystery. Surely these are the easiest to write – they must evolve according to a plan. You have to introduce the problem, then the suspects, give clues, and make the reader care about the outcome. I had an idea it would be less emotional than my first book, which got bogged down into a bizarre love story about a fatherless girl pathetically seeking mentorship. THIS book would be all business.
I got such massive pushback from the class I’m kind of surprised I went through with it – but I was enjoying the writing and the characters were alive to me. “Criticism” in class was students laboriously reading each others’ work, describing its emotional effect on them and describing different ways things could be said. The forward motion of a novel – the sweep, the assumption of power – was thereby utterly dissipated. Everyone just rewrote the first chapters of different books endlessly. So it shouldn’t have been called “Novel Writing”, it should have been called “Paragraph Writing” – a class I wouldn’t take.
This teacher and I butted heads on all kinds of issues. First off, he said great writing couldn’t have a “happy ending.” I saw his point but I thought it shallow. Surely completion of a quest – solving a mystery – is an enormous relief. But mysteries aren’t serious writing, he insisted. (Uh oh. Since I was engaged on one.) Well, what about the Odyssey? Jane Austen? {Probably Tom Jones, if I could recall the ending.)
MODERN literature!! He insisted. We can’t have happy endings anymore!
That was when I realized the whole thing was bogus. If I was bogus, they were even more bogus. I was eight months’ pregnant at the time and this man’s feeble philosophy defied the spinning of the planets, the arrival of spring, the creation of Life itself. What a silly fellow.
I finished Pinch of Death, and still reread it with pleasure, A very charming book.
My second book contract was a two-book contract. I had long been working on a novel, Model Prisoner, that was based largely on the true crime story described in Barthel’s Death in California , where a man murdered his best friend and kidnapped the friend’s wife. I was working through the issues created when women are forced to cooperate with dangerous men. As often happens, the characters hijacked the story. The relationship between the two men became more and more important – my poor heroine was just a marker of success or loss. In a lucky flash of intuition, I realized the mythic proportions of what I was dealing with – my protagonist became Persephone, uncomfortably contended over by two Lords of Darkness.
Another character pushed his way onstage – Persey’s dog, Digger. Because Persey loved him, he was an object of jealousy by the Lords of Darkness, who wanted her all to themselves. This evoked the legends around domesticating wild creatures into household pets and the story became Woman Into Wolf.
When I was ready to submit the novel I discovered my publisher Bridgeworks had been bought by another publisher, Rowman & Littlefield, so I sent it to them and prepared myself for the uncomfortable weeks long wait for consideration lowly authors are subjected to. A few weeks later I heard from my old editor (who I’d dedicated my second novel to!) that Rowman & Littlefield in fact had no editorial department, and so my contract was essentially null and void. I submitted Woman Into Wolf to my old editor to see if she had any good ideas about what I should do next. She suggested I de-emphasize one of the characters (the Bird Lady) and play down Persey’s past life – I took all her suggestions. But when I sent her the revised manuscript I discovered she had forgotten all about it and wanted me to tell her how the novel USED to be!
At that point I lost faith in her. My trusty Girl Focus Group (my daughter’s friends) loved the book, and I feared further monkeying around might break something important! It seemed a better idea to jut publish the thing myself. And the reviews bore me out.
…a thrill-ride, unique and highly recommended reading.” –Entrepreneur.com
“deceit, rape, fertility, imprisonment and a mother’s grief…as each piece of the tightly coiled fiction was loosed I waited for the revelation to come…she couldn’t imagine the extent of the deception until it was spelled out. Neither could I.” – MyShelf.com
“one of the most unusual mysteries I have ever read…I loved reading Woman Into Wolf … kept me on the edge of my seat right through the end…I highly recommend this novel to fans of crime mysteries that also enjoy some extra spice in their stories.” – Readerviews.com
“a very fine psychological thriller… the characters in this book are as bright as crystal and as sharp as shattered glass. Aallyn not only can describe them to a neo-noun, she can make them speak true to those characters. Quite a talent…a novel every bit as worthy as her first.” –ArmchairInterviews.com
Alysse Aallyn is the author of four well-received thrillers, Find Courtney, Depraved Heart, Woman Into Wolf and I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead, one historical novel (Devlyn) and a book of short stories (Awake Till the End.) Her work has been translated into German and Italian. She has three published books of poetry – The Sacred Quiver, The Hot Skin, Haunted Wedding and The Five Wounds and edited another (The Feathered Violin.) She trained in theatre at Circle in the Square Theatre School and Martha Graham School of Dance. She appeared in the part of Isabella in Jean Giraudoux’s The Enchanted at the New Yorker Theatre. She has held writing fellowships at Brooklyn College and LaSalle University. Her novel Depraved Heart won a 2011 CT Press Club fiction award and her play Queen of Swords was a semi-finalist in the 2014 National Arts Council First Play award. She has been invited to read her original work at The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC and has taught creative writing at Catonsville Community College. Woman Into Wolf was a semi-finalist for The National Playwrights Conference (2016) and her play Our Father’s Restaurant was performed on Pacifica Radio. She has also appeared as a crime commentator on ID – TV’s Blood Relatives. Her play, Let’s Speak Vietnamese was published in Dramatika Magazine. She directed The Maids and played the Mother in Jules Feiffer’s Little Murders for Theatre Upstairs. Other plays she’s written are The Honey & the Pang about Emily Dickinson’s posthumous career, Cuck’d – a modern Othello, and Caving, in which the theatre is transformed into a cave for a spelunking dare. Rough Sleep, (based on her novel I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead) was produced by Manhattan Repertory Theatre (W. 45th St) in 2019. Her latest play, The Dalingridge Horror, (short version Leonard & Virginia) explores the partnership between Leonard & Virginia Woolf in their own words and was a finalist for the Tennessee Williams 2021 award. Her newest poetry collection, Haunted Wedding appeared in 2022 from Thriller Library.
Her current work is The WarriorOracle – Becoming a Warrior on the path to enlightenment.
Alysse Aallyn 