Regular readers of this letter will know that I’m very drawn to the myth of Persephone. My novella manuscript borrows from the myth to examine the experience of sibling bereavement from the perspective of an adolescent Persephone called Cora. I’m all about the organic side of the story; the mulch, the rot and the grittier side of turning seasons. There’s no rebirth without these little deaths.
I’m finding ways of reframing and sidestepping the nastier sides of the myth (male violence is inescapable) and focusing back on the story of the resilience of this chthonic goddess. The one who finds light even in the darkest of dead places.
My spring has been a time with a number of submission rejections, and I’m trying to shake that feeling we’re all familiar with of not really getting anywhere. So, I’m sharing a rejected piece with my subscribers instead. A short monologue written from Persephone’s perspective. It features a Hades preoccupied with his compost and delves into some of the imagery I’ve been working with.
Deep time. Organic time. Stone. Mulch. Mycelium.
Here it is:
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