Tootsie!

Talked to my dear old friend Anne the other day. She's an old friend because she's been dear to me for all the years I've known her. Must be 40 years by now. And she's old because she'll be 93 next month. We don't see each other anymore. She's in assisted living near San Diego and I don't drive. But we do fine on the telephone.
     Of course, we don't always connect on the phone. When that happens, I send her a note. About a month ago I included pictures of the dolls I'm making. (She isn't online.) She's a neat, tidy person. Doesn't like clutter. So it surprised me when she asked if I'd make a doll for her! I said of course I would.
     "How big are they," she asked.
      "They're usually about 18 inches."
      "O my, can you make a smaller one?" she said, with hesitation in her voice.
      "Sure. How about 12 inches?"
      "That'd be great!"
I already had an idea. It wouldn't be a clown or a brownie. It didn't take long, and it was fun. Mailed it a few days ago.

I talked to Anne today. The new doll is "Tootsie." She said she especially likes the buttons. Me too.

The adventure of publication--Book 1

Publisher John Daniel accepted my manuscript for Chaucer's Host in June 1997, even though it presented a problem involving the language in the Chaucer  quotes. Two letters common in the Middle English alphabet--thorn and yogh--are no longer in use, and were not available in any font in 1997. I sent a photocopied page with examples as a guide, and a thorn and yogh were created.
     Before composing the dedication page, I visited my cherished mentor, the poet Virginia Adair. I wanted permission to name her as a dedicatee. She said she felt undeserving until I reported that another professor had told me "mind your humility." After her peppery response to his words, she acquiesced. When I got home I wrote the following:

For

Ted, my husband

and

Virginia Hamilton Adair

because they were there for me

from the beginning

With the dedication completed, all the required pages had been sent.

     The first proof pages arrived in late October. The quotes from Chaucer, as well as the general text, were set flush with the left margin. The book designer, Eric Larson, wanted my comments. To see my words in print thrilled me, of course, but I returned the proofs with a note saying, "I assume you don't intend to have all the poetry against the left margin." I enclosed copies of a couple of pages illustrating centered quotes, the way they ought to be.

     Eric sent a  lengthy reply explaining that "flush left" is the logical and the most attractive way to display poetry. To do otherwise, he claimed "makes the whole page look raggedy and disheveled."

     I begged to differ, at length and in detail. "My aim is aesthetics," I declared, "not logic." I don't think I've ever been as forceful, before or since. I offered two alternatives for poetry arrangement--neither flush left--and waited.

     The anticipated letter from Eric finally came after Thanksgiving. He chose my second suggestion and closed his letter with, "Thanks for your help." The kindness of a professional toward a novice.

     Soon I received this design of the front cover for my approval.

I had an idea and a a question. I phoned Eric to suggest placing a white "disk" behind the cross as a symbolic Host. He thought it would look like blank space, but I assured him it would be seen as an illustration of the Eucharist. Then I asked, "Eric, where did you get the M?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "My middle initial is L!" Both changes were made and I happily approved the result. 

Publication was set for July. The processes were exciting but laden with responsibility. If I missed something during proofing, the oversight would become permanent printed history!

     In January 1998 came a request for author photos. A style-conscious friend insisted I wear a plain dark top, with, perhaps, a string of pearls. I went along with the advice, sans pearls. An appropriate accent to complement my black sweater, is, instead, the Middle English Dictionary. Embracing my favorite research tool represents "me" more than wearing pearls. 

     The second proof pages arrived in late February. Corrections indicated in the first proofing had been made. This read-through constituted final approval. At this stage, corrections could be made but no revisions, no moving text, no changes of any kind. Content and pagination were set. Even small changes could have a domino effect requiring succeeding pages to be modified. That could delay the publishing schedule. In a word, alterations were verboten. When I mailed the proofs back, my part of the job was over.

     Galley proofs were sent out to "blurbers," individuals who would read the printout and provide responses to be printed on the back cover. Professor Barnes, who taught Chaucer at Pomona College, called the book a "good read." Dr. McCray, a college president noted for his interest in Chaucer, said,  "it meets a need thus far unfulfilled." Hugh Hewitt, host of the series Searching for God in America, on PBS TV, generously declared, "Cullen's expertise and passion draws in even readers who swore off Chaucer decades ago."

     When I received the back cover design I called Eric again.

     "Eric," I asked, "who chose the quote 'Harrow!' said he, 'by nails and by blood!' at the top of the cover?"

     "I did," he said, rather defensively. "Why?"

     "It's perfect," I said. "It characterizes the whole book!"

"The Harrowing of Hell" is Christ's action after being crucified. He destroys the gates of hell and releases the souls waiting for the Redeemer.

     With all of the book in order, publicity and distribution took over. The publisher's website said, "Cullen posits a secret identity of Herry Bailly, keeper of the Tabard . . . and proposes convincingly that Chaucer's Host is none other than Jesus Christ." Chaucer's Host could be purchased through Amazon, Barnes&Noble, and Borders online. It all came together in a rush.

     A small, heavy box arrived from Santa Barbara the first week of July 1998. I knew what it contained. I set the box on my kitchen table, slit the tape, and folded down the edges. I lifted out a copy of my beautifully finished book. I expected to be overjoyed, laughing and dancing with a sense of accomplishment. My spontaneous reaction, however, caught me by surprise. Instead of dancing, I groped for a chair, sat down, hugged Chaucer's Host to my breast, and sobbed. I felt the release of almost thirty years of waiting.

     A few weeks later, as a lark, I went to our city library just for the fun of seeing my book on the shelf. I asked the reference librarian where I could find "Chaucer's Host" by the author "Dolores Cullen." After studying her computer screen, she wrote on a small slip of paper  PR 1875 H67 C85 1998 and the title--Chaucer's Ghost! I was too amused to correct her.

Lilac sibs

I'll call them Lilac sibs for want of a better way to refer to them. The boy's pants are purple, even though they look like black. The girl's shoes are sparkly with sequins. They'll be heading out soon. Someone else will be giving them names. If I hear about it, I'll let you know. It's fun.

Living the adventure again

This afternoon, just for the heck of it, I read a  chapter in my book about being "ensnared" by Chaucer's words. When I finished the chapter, I laughed because I had found it so entertaining. It was like living the adventure over again. How wonderful!
     The first word that had ensnared me was "Host." It pointed so clearly to a covert image of Christ. The Host's actions confirmed that first impression: providing the best food and strong wine for pilgrims he would guide.

While working on my Master's in 1976, I wrote a paper about the Host and submitted it to a conference on Christianity and Literature. Sounds like the perfect place, doesn't it? Yes--and no. The paper was accepted. After I presented "Chaucer's Host in 14th Century Perspective" the audience had questions. I incorporated material brought out in the questions and sent the paper to the Christian journal that sponsored the conference. But getting it published would not be a shoo in. The reviewer's verdict said, "Do not touch this with a 100 foot pole." So much for a new and different idea.
     That paper, however, became the nucleus of my first book, Chaucer's Host: Up-so-doun. The "up-so-doun" hinted that the contents would be upside down compared to what might be expected. The writers' group I attended heard and critiqued the whole book. I wrote and rewrote until everyone understood. This group typified the average reader I aimed for.
     The internet did not yet exist! Writers relied on the US Post Office. I sent the manuscript and a return envelope with sufficient postage attached to have the manuscript returned to me. Once sent out, weeks (months?) would go by before a reply arrived. My manuscript came back repeatedly, with the typical rejection: Thank you for thinking of us; your manuscript does not fit our current needs; but good luck. I'd prepare new envelopes and send it out again. When I began I had an extensive list of publishers. A few addressees were academic presses, but mainly they were small presses. All were listed under "literary criticism" in the book called Writer's Market. The mailings--and rejections--went on for several years.
     When there were just two names of small presses left on the list--one in New York City, the other in Santa Barbara, CA--I chose Santa Barbara because it was the closer of the two. I lived in Southern California. That was 1997. On June 17th I received a letter from John Daniel, the publisher. He said, "I wish my brother had lived to read your book." Eureka! His brother had been a medievalist and chairman of a University English Department. John had understood my every word and, what's more important, he knew the value of the message.
     That's how our long, meaningful association began.
    

Reminiscing III

This is the third and last of the reminiscences. It's intended as complete nonsense. I could have improved the writing, but I'm giving you just what I was capable of at the time. So, here it is.

Chaucer was really the king of England. He traveled incognito / he liked flying in airplanes / but preferred traveling by car. When he was in France he always spoke English. When he was in Italy he always spoke French that way no one on the Continent ever knew what he was saying & they couldn't steal the plot for his next book.
     He lived on the royalties from his books and had the legal entries about being a customs worker, etc. placed in the records to confuse historians. He bribed the record keepers to make the entries by giving them 1/2 of his daily wine allotment. He also had a stable of horses and used to rent them out to pilgrims who were going to St James Compostela. After a while, he ran out of horses because they didn't swim well enough to get the pilgrims across the English Channel.
     He & his wife never got along, that's one reason he made all those trips. Of course the reason they started not to get along was because he went on the trips & refused to take her with him. She wanted to visit her mama in Switzerland & Chaucer had a fear of heights but wouldn't admit it. That fact was only recently discovered in a secret diary of his that was discovered behind some books in the library at Westminster Abbey. And besides, it also said he couldn't stand his mother-in-law & his wife's 8 sisters who all still lived at home with Mama.

Reminiscing II

The is the second of three "exercises" I did in the 1980s just to let off steam. The first was fictional. This one is really a record of how I felt. The book about the Host, that I talk about, wasn't published until 1998--after a long search for a publisher.

Dear Geoffrey Chaucer,
I hope you don't mind my using a comma instead of a colon. I feel I know you well enough for a comma. Try not to think me forward.
     I have read most of your works and find you the most fascinating author I've known. Other authors are entertaining, paint great pictures, introduce interesting characters, have clever story lines--but you do all these things and so much more. The depth, the complexity I felt almost from the first moment was a strange and new experience. It remains to this day the most stimulating intellectual experience of my life. [And in 2015, I still feel the same way.]
     I am sorry to admit that I have so much difficulty explaining what I see to others. But I guess that is as it should be. Your genius put it together. It should be very difficult to take all the pieces apart one at a time and still be able to have someone recognize all these bits and pieces as your work of art.
     I'll keep trying. I so want someone else to enjoy what I see. Do you suppose if I give them a pretty good outline, over all description, analysis--whatever--that others will be able to continue, enlarge, discover the things remaining that I don't mention or haven't seen myself? I sure hope so. For one reason, because I can't do the whole job--I don't have the time [I was almost 60], nor do I have training in all the fields that you knew. (What, in your world, did you not know?) Was there anything that did not interest you? Was there any area of life of which you were totally ignorant? I doubt there were any.
     That's one of the most amazing things--but, if I think about it, why shouldn't it be? Each person today knows about many things in many areas of life. The remarkable thing about you is that you seemed to fit the whole world into your writing. I have trouble just trying to organize the proper details, sufficient background, adequate description. I seem to have to labor over a simple scene, work it over and over just to get minimal interest into it. Did you work and rework your verses? I don't see how you could have had time.
     I'm quite sure that you have three layers of a story line running through the CT. I'm so anxious to finish the book about the Host, and the book about Pilgrim Chaucer and the Host, so I can work on the pilgrims. You must have been spellbound by your own ideas. How amazing! How all the little pieces fit together--it overwhelms me thinking of it. Did you have a chart to keep it all straight? Or was you memory so powerful (photographic memory before photographs?) that it all stayed in order and emerged as you needed it?
     I have to say that I don't intend to just rush through the Host book to get it finished. I plan to do as good a job as I possibly can. (Pray for me.) What is it I'm really trying to express? Let me see . . . I am anxious for others to know what I know so they can be even more amazed with your writing. And I am anxious to know more and more myself. And you don't go on to the next task before you finish with the first. So, in the end, what I am feeling is the excitement in store when I start to learn more about the pilgrims. But I just want everything NOW.   :)
     I'm sure there is a pattern in the pilgrim descriptions, but chances are it is not a simple and consistent pattern. Perhaps there is one pattern for the constellations, and another for the planets--that makes a lot of sense because you'd want to point out particular stars as an identifying clue and I already know you did that in several places.--You see, there I go getting carried away when I have two long jobs to do before I get to sort out all those wonderful gems you left for us. It truly overwhelms me to know that I understand--even though I don't have all the information I need yet.
     Anything you can do to help me, I would really appreciate. I really want to do a good job. I want people to get excited about your writing. And I want them to have a new interest in the Middle Ages. I'm sure there is so much there, just waiting to be discovered. You knew it, many writers knew it. It's time to let the secrets out.

 Respectfully yours,

Dolores Cullen

                                                                

Reminiscing I

While looking through an old file for something, I came across a folder I'd forgotten about. Thought you might find the contents of interest. It comes from the 1980s. It was a time when my dear friend and mentor, Virginia Adair,  had moved out of the area; she would return a few years later. A note attached to the papers sets the scene. The first "exercise" follows.

These are "exercises" [3 of them]  I did in the 1980s, just to let off steam. I felt like I'd burst from all I could see in Chaucer and no one would listen.

I

I was with Master Chaucer this afternoon. He returned from Italy a few days ago. It was a hard journey. He saw many things that filled his mind and heart with pain. Sad and terrible things are happening. It must be that the Lord will soon come and make an end of this foul world. All the signs are there. 

     Master Chaucer and I talked quietly for a long while. He told me of terrors he had seen and heard about. We pray God will not allow such things to come to England.

     He is working carefully on his pilgrimage story. It is wonderful to see. His words are heavy with meaning and yet the lines are so cheery that one might never notice unless they will look deeply for what is stored there as a treasure. There are those who will handle his words and never feel their weight. He is so great a master--it is a gift from God, I have no doubt. 

     When I put my feeble words together and my lines grow, one follows the other and all they hold is clear and plain--how the master does it is a skill beyond my humble ability.

     His skill he uses as it was intended, to say what he knows so that others may benefit from what God has taught him or allowed him to see and hear. He takes these happenings, these truths, and applies his powers to them and--as if by magic--they become creatures of complexity and variety. From one side we see a simple picture; from another a noble truth and--if we are skillful enough--from a third side a message as if the Lord himself is speaking to mankind.

     It is a blessing and a wonder to know Master Chaucer, to hear him speak and to see how he weaves his thoughts into his words.

                                                                     --Master Chaucer's humble servant