Jane Guill's Backstory for NECTAR FROM A STONE

I wrote stories about confused, misplaced women and drew large pictures of disoriented people in forests. Literary and artistic progress barely limped forward, but years tore by. When my first marriage ended in a bloodless coup, I wondered what to do with the rest of my life. It seemed like a reasonable time to temporarily succumb to emotional malaise. I could pop mood elevators as if they were Pez and swill sour apple martinis from sundown until bedtime. If I lost myself thoroughly enough, then maybe, somehow, I could figure out where I’d gone.

But nighttime banshees in my head suddenly and relentlessly hectored me to FIND MY ROOTS. Roots? Like Alex Haley? I’d never given them a thought. What did they even matter? But the chorus wouldn’t be still. So I gave in. Why not? So far I’d just been killing time, murdering time deader than a mackerel, and I was even considering a chemical self-lobotomy. Maybe the banshees knew more than I did about what I needed. It was unlikely they knew less.

Guill--pronounced Gwill--is a bastardized Welsh name and my family roots are undoubtedly Welsh. So I told the banshees thanks very much but hush now because you’ve won--and I made my way to Wales. Before leaving Illinois I was lucky enough to arrange temporary lodging and a job at a medieval manor house--complete with two ghosts--in North Wales at the edge of the Snowdonian Mountains. The owner, an archaeologist and historian, wanted an illustrated record of her home’s important features.

On the day of my flight to Britain, I sat at the gate at O’Hare Airport, clutching my ticket, eager to board. A tall, stylish woman took a seat beside me and began a conversation. She wore an amber necklace, double-stranded.

"You’re vacationing in England?" Her accent suggested Eastern Europe, maybe Russia.

"A working vacation, in Wales."

She turned to me more fully and studied my face for so long that I became embarrassed.

"Is anything wrong?" I finally asked.

"Not now. But long ago there was."

Long ago there was? What did that mean? Sheesh, life’s too short, I thought, reaching for my carry-on, hoping this odd duck wouldn’t be my neighbor for the transatlantic flight.

"You think I’m a fool, or"--she searched for a word--"peculiar."

"No. I just remembered I wanted some mints."

She raised her hand to stop me. "Long ago you died of the plague."

"Pardon?"

"A sad death, but you learned from it."

I stood. "Then I guess that was nice for me, at least."

"I’m not saying it for a joke. Sometimes I see things from the past."

"Then that’s nice for you." I made a quick getaway.

Later, I saw her in the plane’s first-class section as I shuffled back to steerage. She raised her champagne flute.

I forgot all about that encounter until I’d been in Wales for nearly two weeks. That’s when my hostess, my employer, told me she believed I was her sister from another life.

Yikes. I asked her why.

"A psychic told me you’d come someday. She said I’d recognize you, and I did. I knew you as soon as you walked in."

"Was this psychic Russian, by chance?" Naturally, I had to ask.

"No. Welsh."

Curiouser and curiouser. In subtle ways I did often feel, in Wales, as if I’d come home. But I’ve never been a disciple of Shirley Maclaine-ish notions, so dismissed the matter from my mind. Almost entirely.
On my next day off, my new-old ‘sister’ took me sightseeing to a nearby limestone headland, The Great Orme. On a narrow cliff-side lane we stopped beside a parked car that had a rope tied around it, like a birthday present. Visible below us on the cliff’s face, suspended from that rope, a man rappelled to some unseen destination.

My amused hostess knew him by his car and his antics. "Mad," she said. "He’s always been rather mad."
The following afternoon we met the madman, a geologist, face-to-face, at the 4,000-year-old copper mine he and two partners run as an educational site. And there I fell in love. Stupid love--heaven help me. Not cream puff love, pink-candy-heart love. Not like Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming. This was the hard stuff, hundred proof, the kind of love that could--if it went wrong--rip a heart through a ribcage and destroy pathetic dream-worlds for ever and ever amen.

But fools rush in. The madman raised one eyebrow and invited me to go walking in the Welsh hills. Recklessly, I accepted his invitation.

Weeks later I was home in the States, keeping my wrecked heart in a shoebox under my bed. I spent time listening to clocks tick and tried to watch old comedies. Some nights I’d wake in a panic. Maybe my next life would be better, I told myself. I didn’t really believe that, and I didn’t really care.
But at least some good came out of my fool’s journey, because I finally knew what to write about. I knew absolutely. All the odd things, good and bad, that had happened to me that year went into the blender inside my head and morphed into a tale about a medieval Welshwoman from a plague-ravaged family. She has visions of the past and sometimes of the future, and she is very lonely.
NECTAR FROM A STONE was born.

A note to hopeless romantics: You might like to know that the geologist finally telephoned me, after I’d been back home for several months.

"It’s midnight and I’ve been drinking ale," he said, to begin.

We were married in Wales in 1996. It’s true that I’m afraid of heights and he only reads non-fiction, but things are going well. It’s almost like we’ve known each other all our lives.

Jane Guill is the author of NECTAR FROM A STONE and a three time nominee for the Pushcart Prize.

Comments

[Marilyn]

I LOVE this backstory...fabulous!

[Alice]

I loved this backstory. Have read Nectar from a Stone---an excellent book. I hope Guill follows up with lots more. Soon.

[Gayden]

This is a great story..front or back!
Terrific

[Jim]

Nectar was a great read. Guill really can turn a phrase. Reminds me why I like to read. Joyful balance: an original master plot and characters who breathe on the pages. Give us more!

[Bob Liter]

If your book is as entertaining as your backstory it must be good. Judging from the comments it is. My wife's parents are from Wales so I read the post to her. She is going to get the book from talking books because her sight is impaired.

I have written seven novels published by Reaissance E Books. Four are Nick Bancroft mysteries, the others romances.

Enjoyed the post and reading it to my wife.
Bob Liter

[Peter Fraterdeus]

I think Jane Guill is possibly amongst the best fiction writers on the planet. Her command of the language, subtle and outrageous sense of humor (more obvious in her short stories) and understanding of the human condition weave a fine fabric full of surprises and hidden messages.

I'm enjoying Nectar -- hard to stop reading!

[Peter F]

I think Jane Guill is possibly amongst the best fiction writers on the planet. Her command of the language, subtle and outrageous sense of humor (more obvious in her short stories) and understanding of the human condition weave a fine fabric full of surprises and hidden messages.

I'm enjoying Nectar -- hard to stop reading!

[Gray]

Guill's characters step off the pages and become part of your life - or maybe your past life. I found myself concerned about their well-being long after I had returned the book to the shelf.

[Margaret Able]

After reading this backstory, I just had to get the book. I'm looking forward to reading it!

Margaret from www.bookishmarginalia.blogspot.com

[Jeanette Thomson]

Jane: My husband, Gary and I have just returned from one of our Origins Study Tours and included your journey from Ysbtty Ifau to Conway. On Monday night I am presenting your book for a Book Club. I think we will have a great time discussing it. Gary and I visited the Great Orme several years ago (in the early 90s) and think we met your husband. He showed us around in the mine. Anyway, we have had a great time discussing your book as we moved on to our tour to Ireland. A geologist said you are working on a new book about Anglesey. We'll look forward to it. Jeanette Thomson

[Robert]

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[freshman in high-school]

Oh, this book -Nectar- is marvelous! I could not put it down, even during class, when I really should not have been reading...
The way Jane Guill described the characters, and the exellent romance, kept me completely enthralled. I have a huge interest in medieval history, and this book fit my interest perfectly. Keep up the good work!
Also, the story of Jane herself, is just as good. To have died of the plauge is to have died in one of the most interesting periods of history. An honor, though an unusual one.