On February 1, 2013 Spuyten Duyvil Press published Ashes Rain Down A Story Cycle by William Luvaas. The collection of ten short stories centers on two fictional California communities, the mountain community Sluggards Creek and a community on the Mendocino Coast, embroiled in a Global Warming crisis. Climactic disaster, global economy collapse, social order collapse, epidemics and its affects are entombing the communities with agonizing slow time.
Spuyten Duyvil Press described Ashes Rain down A story Cycle in its press release: The ten linked stories in Ashes Rain Down explore what life might be like after several decades of environmental and social apocalypse. Despite the impending doom, there is also dark humor spiced with grotesque realism embedded in the overarching theme: that people do carry on.
The time frame is within the next fifty years: King Charles II is now King Of England; both Hillary and Chelsea Clinton have served terms as U.S. President; President Barack Obama has served his third term; St. Louis and Oklahoma City are no longer in existence; there is only one functioning newspaper; only three television stations operating; most of the world has no television or electricity; and there is The Forever War, which Luvaas described as a global-conflict-kind of third world war in the Middle East.
“I wanted it to be a vague, distant conflict between unspecified combatants. It is not a war against global warming but an ongoing conflict fueled by global warming as beleaguered countries scrap over remaining resources. Vietnam is mentioned, yes. When you think about it, the U.S. has been fighting an undeclared war against vague enemies almost continuously since Nam. So we are already engaged in the Forever War.”
When Luvaas wrote the first story “Ashes Rain Down” he knew that it would turn into a short story collection. It took him a period of years to complete the stories. Luvaas described the writing of Ashes Rain Down A Story Cycle as writing a novel since all the stories share the same themes, locales, and characters. The main character is Lawrence: moral, loyal, unruffled, pragmatic, good-hearted, and constantly trying to help his community.
There is the hint of the supernatural, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, gay rights, true love, adultery, family relationships, and the conflict between the town’s evangelical Christians, who see the holocaust as God’s judgment, and the secularists, who see it as a scientific inevitability. The main themes, however, are the dangers of Global Warming and how humanity responds to the catastrophe.
“It occurred to me that some people–especially enterprising people–would likely survive and some technology would survive. To an extent, lives would go on much as they do now, but would be scrappier, less comfortable, more challenging…more endangered.”
To most readers, Ashes Rain Down: A Story Cycle may be just an artistic endeavor and/or something to read – but to Luvaas the book is also a warning to readers of the dangers of Global Warming.
“In the past 15 years, I have come to understand the dynamics of global warming and its impact on the environment. I find it deeply disturbing. If we go on as we are, ignoring the distress signals, we will lose life as we know it, and the earth will become a hostile environment.”
One could describe Sluggards Creek and Mendocino County as fictional communities, but Luvaas views them as everyone’s community – we are all affected by global warming; therefore, we should all be concerned with this issue.
“Yes, I suppose in a way I am suggesting that no one can escape the environmental holocaust; it hits all communities equally. But it is generally true of my fiction that I cast a wide net. I do not focus on any single group or community but write about all kinds of people in different social strata. However, societal outsiders interest me more than insiders do.”
Luvaas writes most of his fiction at his study in his home in Hemet, California, where he has views of flowerbeds, jade trees, a huge Jeffrey pine tree, a honeysuckle hedge, palm trees, green foliage, and the San Jacinto mountains. The two things he has to have with him in order to write is a huge cup of coffee and his laptop.
“I write directly on the computer. I write the first draft of a story in a few days. I never plan out my stories in advance, outline them, anything of that sort. I begin with some simple spark–a phrase, an image, a rough idea–and follow the trace. I try not to lead the characters but to follow them. I almost never know at the outset how a story will end…or even what it will be about for sure. I discover that in the writing. Then come endless revisions. I am obsessive about revising and editing. In revision, I ask myself, very pointedly, “What is the intent of this story? Is it fulfilling its intent?” I want everything to be exactly as it must be–every word, every comma, every dash. I labor over imagery and dialogue; I want it to be precise.”
Unfortunately, part of being precise is to kill other stories that do not fit in the scheme of the book. An example is a story called “The Forever War”, which focuses on Lawrence and his estranged son who dies, and which Luvaas deemed too lengthy. Another story that didn’t make the final cut was “Rapture Fire”, which was published in Spring/Summer 2013 issue of Texas Review.
http://www.texasreviewpress.org/journal/archive/2010.html
“Eventually, I ran out of steam; I had written what I needed to write about Sluggards Creek and environmental apocalypse. I wanted to move on. I realized I didn’t need more stories, I had more than enough for a collection. So I decided which of the stories to include and in what order and was ready to send the collection to publishers.”
Luvaas, who decided not to use an agent, queried small publishing houses, since smaller houses tend to publish more short story collections. He then sent the manuscript to the publishing houses that expressed an interest. At the time, he was also shopping to sell his novel Welcome To Saint Angel. Spuyten Duyvil Press rejected the novel due to its long length, but inquired if Luvaas had something shorter he could offer them.
“So I got Ashes right off to them, and they wanted to bring it out both in hard copy and as an eBook. This all happened over perhaps two weeks–very fast as publishing goes.”
Thus far, four works of Luvaas have been published: A Working Man’s Apocrypha Short Stories, Ashes Rain Down: A Story Cycle, and two novels: Going Under and The Seductions Of Natalie Bach.
He also edited an anthology of California writers, Into The Deep: The Writing Center Anthology 3, and is the online fiction editor for Cutthroat: A Journal of the Arts
Despite his success, Luvaas continues to write religiously: he has a strict routine that he abides by at least six days out of the week: he gets up at 9 a.m., has coffee with his wife, works in his office until late afternoon, takes a break for dinner, then goes back to his office where he works until 1 a.m. He usually writes most of the time; but sometimes works on revisions, promotions, correspondence, and research.
“Chaos is an enemy of artistic creation. We need constancy and security that comes with well-established rituals and routines, because creativity thrives only when it finds stable, fertile soil to grow in. Most all of the serious writers and artists I know are hard and dedicated workers. You have to be. If you lie about daydreaming in an idyll until inspiration hits you or stay up drinking all night, you won’t get much work done.”
Luvaas makes sure to work out three times a week at the local gym and, more importantly, to spend time with his wife, prolific artist Lucinda Luvaas. The couple likes to go out in the evenings for long drives in L.A. and San Diego; visit friends in Palm Springs, or go to a movie, reading, or gallery opening.
The married couple also has collaborated on projects together. Lucinda is the first person to hear his stories and novels and he values her input. Lucinda also designed three of his book covers:
“We drove all over the Coachella Valley looking for a house to use on the cover of Ashes…finally found one in Riverside. We found an antique doll used in the cover design on EBay. She loves my writing, and I love her paintings, films and musical compositions. I suppose we have our own ongoing artist colony.”
Luvaas writes novels, novellas, and short stories, but views himself more as a writer of short stories than novels.
“I have come to love the short story form – its brevity, how it demands precise narrative focus, how all elements must work together in common cause for the story to succeed: characters, atmosphere, thematic elements, symbolism, imagery, voice, events – all must walk in tandem down the definitive path of the narrative. There can be no stragglers. No side paths. The discipline of the story is a kind of elixir to me.”
Luvaas is in the early stages of writing his memoir addressing his struggles with his diagnosis of epilepsy. He recently completed a new novel and is in the early stages of revising it. Luvaas is also revisiting and revising his older works, mostly novels. His main focus is to write new material, preferably novels, that are similar to his short stories in tone, atmosphere, and compassion.
“My novel-in-progress is the first of these. They will be short, focused, likely will contain elements of magic or grotesque realism as most of my stories do. Likely, they will focus on societal outsiders.”
Luvaas’s advice to new writers is to focus on little steps first: before publishing a short story collection, publish individual stories first. This will help you gain a reputation as a writer and give you a track record.
Luvaas acknowledges the existence of writer’s block and, during his early years as a writer, faced it on occasion. He’s learned that overcoming writer’s block is not to force oneself at the desk, but to get away from the desk – but only for a short time.
“Possibly writers block is a warning that the well is drying up, and we need to find a new source of water–new subject matter, a new approach. After taking a break, we often return to the desk with renewed vigor.”
His best piece of advice for new writers is to simply write, and to live as a writer, which means paying attention to all of your surroundings.
“Living as a writer means that everything you do and see, every place you go, everyone you meet, every conversation you have or overhear is grist for the mill. You try to develop what Elizabeth Bishop called “the writer’s eye.” You are constantly taking notes in your head, you never get a break from it. If you don’t love doing it, you can’t do it. I think it’s a great way to be in the world: always on watch!”
The last piece of advice is the same advice that all writers will give – to read.
And what better short story to read than “A Crack in the Pavement” from the Ashes Rain Down collection; a story Luvaas found emotional and moving to write.
“ My wife and I are very close and that surely informed it. How does a person go on living, I wondered, without their lifelong mate? Some may cling to vestiges of their lost partner, as Gil does here, talking to her, laying out clothes for her, etc. Maybe will even hear her responding to his remarks from beyond the grave, but along with his grief and longing, there is a good bit of humor, too, since Gil and Amanda are both feisty, idiosyncratic people. I suppose it was one of those pieces that came as a kind of inspiration, as though the story was hovering out there waiting to be written down. I just took dictation.”
The story “Ashes Rain Down” won Glimmer Train’s Fiction Open Contest (winter 2008), “Family Life” won The Ledge Magazine’s 2010 Fiction Competition, and “Out There” won honorable mention in Carpe Articulum’s International Fiction Awards competition; “Heat Wave” has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
The below excerpt is Copyrighted – Copyright owners William Luvaas and Spuyten Duyvil Press
A Crack in the Pavement
Bicycling home three days before his wife died, Gil Ridley
swerved around a deer carcass lying in the middle of the road. He thought to race home for a hacksaw and buck knife to butcher it while it was fresh, before someone else got to it. These were hungry times. But, coming to a foot-dragging stop beside it, Gil realized the cadaver was two-legged, naked and lying on its side in a fetal position so he could not determine the sex, no doubt run down by some big rig that had abandoned rutted interstates and taken to back roads. Sonnabitch had likely climbed down from his tractor, prodded the victim with a toe and muttered, “Poor bastard is dead.” Just left it there. In his own driving days, Gil would have rolled the body up in a blanket and wrestled it up into the sleeper. Then, the damnedest thing! The corpse disappeared, sucked down into a crack in the pavement. Gone.
Gil dismounted the bike–no easy task with his arthritic knees and hip joints–kneeled stiffly down on the shoulder and sniffed the pavement. Sat up straight. “I seen mirages but, damnitall, I never seen that before.” It had been there sure enough–what they called an “apparition,” a forewarning of death maybe. Because, truth to tell, what he’d seen in that first instant was his own wife, Amanda Ridley, stretched out bare naked on the pavement (fine body for a seventy-four year old woman–used to be before cancer stripped flesh from her bones), and before his eyes she’d coiled up in a fetal position. “Can’t blame you none, babe, exposed in a public place in your condition! No, sir.” Doctors gave up on her five years ago when they closed the hospital in Haneysville after her last chemo, and she’d been living on borrowed time ever since. “Remission,” they called it.
Walky Talky, passing silently on the far side of the road, glanced up at him; they exchanged a nod. Didn’t bother old Walky to find Gil muttering to himself. After all, he himself walked the roads loudly reporting the news and weather from the transceiver they say Tommy Whitehead installed in his brain. But here lately Walky had stopped reporting; maybe his receiver was broke down or it had got too depressing reporting all that bad news. “That’s the hell of growing old,” Gil told Walky’s retreating back, “trouble stores up over your natural lifetime to where you had about enough of it. I believe my Amanda’s reached that point.” Gesturing at that place on the pavement where her body had lay. “Life offers more problems than it does solutions. You can’t blame a person for having enough of it. Still, I resent it. It’s damn hard having your wife of fifty-two years ready to pass on you– ready and willing.” Looking at the road again, Gil was certain it had been Amanda lying there. “Apparition,” “premonition”…whatever you want to call it, scared the b’jesus out of him. Walky went silently on.
“How’m I s’posed to live without you, baby? How’m I s’posed to get by in this world of bad news without you? Answer me that! Good news either, for all that–if we ever got any! No one to share a damn nothing with.”
This feature originally appeared on the Chris Rice Cooper Blog Spot Dot Com on September 22, 2013
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