A Blue So Dark

by Holly Schindler

  "And I'm off to happy hour," Nell announces triumphantly. She hurries up the coast in her fitted capris, toward the hotel lounge, like she's forty years younger than she really is. Age hasn't touched either of them, Nell or Mom.

  The thing is-and Mom would never even consider the possibility of this being true-but really, she and Nell butt heads because they're so much alike. Everything from the shape of their angular faces all the way down to their eyes-not the color of them, but the way they work. The way those eyes see. And that's helping me to take a lot of the lingering fear factor out of blank canvases. Nell's an artist, too.

  I mean, life's not flawless. It's not like I'm Goldilocks settling into the perfect setting, saying, This is just right. But as I'm sitting next to my mom, our hands poised on the pages in nearly identical angles, I have to say, This feels so good... I fill my lungs with sweet air as I try to decide what I'm going to sketch-one of the palms, leaves like a funky layered hairdo? The sailboat creeping dangerously close to a horizon line that looks like the edge of the entire world?

  I stare down at my feet, at the skin that's a shade lighter because it's underneath the blue tint of the water. I wiggle my toes, disturbing the sand. For a moment the water clouds, reminding me of my first visit to Florida.

  "You're not drawing," Mom says, singsong. "If you don't get started soon, I'll win."

  I sigh, collapsing into the back of my beach chair. "There's just so much more, you know? Underneath the surface. When we came-the first time? I thought I'd see all the way to the bottom of the ocean. Sunken pirate ships and all."

  By this point, Mom's pencil has stopped moving. "Why didn't you?"

  I snort a laugh, thinking she's trying to be a smart-ass. But she's looking at me like she wouldn't know sarcasm if it stung her like a jellyfish. She's being utterly serious.

  "You don't see the ocean floor, Mom," I tell her. "It's not a fish bowl, all right? It's the ocean."

  A crooked grin starts to tap dance into the side of her cheek. "Close your eyes."

  "I'm not some little girl, Mom-" I start to protest.

  "Let me tell you something, Aura," she says, in that same tone she uses in the front of her classroom. "There's another side to art, okay? The magical side. Sure, you have to start with something solid, copying images that already exist, that stand right in front of you. But the best artists? They draw not from the world, but from their imaginations. That's how you see the ocean floor, Aura. You dream it. You create it. You draw it."

  I tense up a little, try to shrug her away.

  "What have you drawn from your imagination since you painted that three-headed mermaid on my wall?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow. "Hmm? Nothing, that's what."

  "I had assignments, Mom-"

  "Can it. Don't blame it on some art teacher. `You had assignments.' You passed Art I with flying colors, drawing bowls of fruit and little wooden dolls." She sticks a finger in her mouth, like she's gagging herself. "You and I both know you could have been more creative. Come on," Mom insists. "Close your eyes."

  My eye travels back up the shore, in the direction my grandmother just disappeared. Nell's an artist, too, I remind myself. Creative doesn't have to mean crazy. Right?

  I do what Mom suggests-as my eyelashes knit, the late afternoon sun gives the backs of my eyelids a red glow.

  "Flick your tail," Mom says.

  "My tail?" I moan, my eyes popping back open again. "What am I, eight?"

  "Shut up," Mom says, leaning over the arm of her beach chair to cup my eyes with her palm. "Your tail," she repeats. "That beautiful mermaid tail you painted on my bedroom wall. Flick your tail and dive in-not into the waters of the Florida Keys, but inside you."

  "This is stupid," I mumble, but Mom's suggestion has made my mind explode. I swear, I can feel the cool water against my shoulders as I plunge in. Bubbles dance up my arms.

  "Keep going," Mom whispers. "Speed up-faster than a shark. Deeper and deeper into your own creativity, your mind, your art."

  I flick my imaginary tail again and fly through the waters, taking in the surroundings entirely through my skin, since my eyes are still closed. Deeper and deeper, just like Mom said. I brush past a tangle of seaweed. Schools of fish tickle my skin and scales as I speed past. The farther I swim into my imagination, the farther I get from any lingering fear. A squeal builds low in my belly, because I'm free.

  My fingertips strike something mossy, ancient.

  "You're there, aren't you?" Mom asks. "The ocean floor?"

  I let out a murmur, because I'm not done yet. I don't have to stop here-and I burrow deeper still, squirm under the ocean floor, to a world never before explored. My own world.

  "Go ahead, Aura," Mom whispers. "Draw what you see.

  I open my eyes.

  Holly Schindler dove headfirst into her writing pursuits after obtaining an MA in English from Missouri (Ma-zur- AH) State University. Teaching private piano and guitar lessons to pay the bills quickly made her realize she wanted to write for the teens who filled her home with music. Having penned a pile of drafts that literally stretches to the ceiling, she is ecstatic to be releasing her first novel with Flux. She is a member of SCBWI, lives with a ridiculously spoiled Pekingese, and is firmly convinced that SpringfieldStyle Cashew Chicken is the ultimate writing fuel.

  Interview with Holly Schindler

  By 4ffie costa

  Ubiquitous blogger Little Willow (aka Allie Costa) put fingers to keys for a cyberspace chat with author Holly Schindler.

  ALLIE COSTA: A Blue So Dark studies the life ofa girl who, as she turns from fifteen to sixteen, watches her once lively mother lose her grasp on reality as she is overwhelmed by schizophrenia. What prompted you to write about schizophrenia? How much research did you do into the condition before or while writing the book?

  HOLLY SCHINDLER: I've also always been interested in what makes a person creative. Why one person can write an entire volume of poetry while another just stares at the blue lines on a blank piece of notebook paper, unable to come up with a single rhyme. My interest in creativity really exploded in grad school ... I taught a few courses while working on my master's, and I was amazed by the way some of my students could go on for half a class period about the meaning in a poem I'd bring in for discussion, while others would just read the literal surface-meaning, not probing any deeper, not really making any connections or seeing metaphors. But why is that? Why do some people look at everything literally, while others constantly see something more?

  A Blue So Dark isn't autobiographical in that I didn't grow up with a mentally ill mother. But while I don't have any personal experience with schizophrenia, I didn't have to probe very deep into the subject of creativity to find out that many of our "great" artists (playwrights, poets, novelists, painters, sculptors, musicians) were in some way affected by mental illness-schizophrenia as well as depression or bipolar disorder ... The idea of the "mad genius" is so pervasive, there's even a Wikipedia entry for "Creativity and Mental Illness"!

  With this novel, I got a chance to explore the idea that creative thought and mental illness are linked. And, yes, I did have to do some research into schizophrenia-symptoms, treatment, etc. But I was writing fiction-so of course my characters and their experiences had to drive the book, not descriptions of the condition. I internalized everything I read, then put it all away. When I drafted (and revised) the novel, I focused on character development, plot, the motherdaughter relationship between Aura and Grace.

  Ac: Her mother's condition (and her father's lack of involvement) really hits Aura when she's in middle school, and she feels incapable of assisting her mom-she feels powerless and like she's too young to really help. Do you recall a time when you (as a kid or a teenager) realized the world was bigger, heavier than you thought it was, and that opened your eyes to things, for better or for worse?

  Hs: My experience was really the opposite of Auras: instead of finding that the world was heavier than I'd thought, I realized that th
e world was a lot lighter-by, uh ... failing miserably.

  The thing is, I'm pretty sure I was the shyest kid in the tri-state area growing up. I know that shyness sounds so incredibly unimportant when you compare it to schizophrenia ... But I do remember feeling that the world was a heavy place when I was little-enormous and really just filled with judgment.

  I'd always been the classic overachiever. Even if I didn't like a course, I studied myself silly. When I started submitting manuscripts, I saw publication as pass or fail: you're either accepted or you're not. So I really felt like I failed for the (gulp) more than seven years it took to get the first acceptance. But I learned that failing really was okay-you have to find out what doesn't work and just keep forging on, right?

  nc: Which of the characters reflects you the most? Who do you wish you resembled (in ability or features or spirit)?

  Hs: I think I'm probably most like Aura. I don't mean that we're plagued by the same fears, or that our experiences are the same, but the voice that runs through A Blue So Dark sounds an awful lot like me. I think that once I realized how close I still felt to that old teenage me, I just let my natural voice flow straight onto the paper-I wasn't trying to make the book sound teen, I was trying to tell a brutally honest story. I think anytime an author writes in first person, though, elements of their own voice are bound to creep in-their own sense of humor, their own observations just can't help but be part of the story when they're using "I."

  If I could be anyone? When I proofed the novel, I always found myself smiling when Nell entered a scene. There's a real strength about her that I think's fantastic. And there's a straightforwardness about Janny that I really like, too. They're not perfect people-if I've done my job right, every character in my book should have their own grab bag of flaws. But I think I wound up surrounding Aura with the kind of people Ilike to be around-real straight shooters.

  Ac: If you were aware that your creativity altered or infringed upon your mental state, would you sacrifice your art (your writing, your music, your fine art if you draw like Aura or paint like Aura's mother) to retain your sanity, or would you continue to create?

  Hs: No doubt-I'd keep writing. In all honesty, writing is so much a part of who I am anymore, so central to my life, I don't think I'd feel like I had much of a choice.

  Take another scenario: let's say I was having trouble breathing, and rushed myself to the ER, and I found out I had this crazy-rare lung disease. And the doctor said, "You're lungs could explode at any minute if you keep breathing." Huh??? Wait a minute, doc. I'm gonna die if I don't breathe. Thats how I feel about writing-it's just as essential to life as air. And it also pretty much sums up how I'd feel if a psychiatrist told me I had to quit writing or go insane: I'm gonna go insane if I don't write.

  ac: What else inspires your writing? Do you have a certain routine when you write?

  Hs: I'm constantly working. Eight (or more) hours a day. Every day.

  While that does involve some serious one-on-one time with my computer, I manage to mix it up a bit by doing a lot of outlining in notebooks. I feel way too self-conscious writing in public, though. (By "public," I mean a coffeehouse setting, with lots of eyes to watch me ... but the edges of the nearby Finley River? Or Lake Springfield? Fantastic writing spots ... nobody pays any attention to me there.)

  And I always do carry scratch paper with me ... physical activity sort of clears my mind. Out of nowhere (say, while pumping gas or grocery shopping or walking my dog), I get little epiphanies about my characters, or realize how I can fix scenes that have been nagging me. And if I don't write it down, it'll vanish.

  Ac: Your artistic abilities extend beyond the printed page. Tell me about your musical endeavors, and how teaching music lessons inspired your writing.

  Hs: I've been playing music ever since-well, toddler-dom, if you count pulling out all of Mom's pots and pans and playing the "drums" while she cooked dinner. My first memory is of Mom's piano-I was so small, I'd stand on the floor and stretch my arms up over my head to press the keys!

  In all honesty, though, I'm not sure the phrase "musical endeavors" should really be applied to me. Yeah, I love music. And yeah, in college, I did play and sing in a few garage bands ... and I still do write songs, when I have a chance, and am always picking up new instruments to try out (the fiddle, the banjo ... not that I have enough time to practice to do them anything close to justice). But I never really pursued music-not like I pursued writing.

  I did, however, find a way to combine music and writing once I got out of college: by teaching piano and guitar lessons! It was the perfect setup: I'd get up early and write until three in the afternoon, when students would start arriving. That way, I figured, I'd be around literature and music all day ... and get a few of those pesky bills paid in the process.

  At the time, I was drafting adult manuscripts. But after talking to my younger students, I started plowing through drawers and closets, digging out some of my old high school writings ... I poured through everything I'd written as a teen: journals, spiral-bound notebooks filled with poetry, class papers, short stories. All those old feelings and experiences came flooding back-and I decided I had to try my hand at a YA novel.

  Beyond the interaction with my students, though, I think anybody who plays music knows the benefits of repetition-playing the same chord progression or riff over and over until you get it right. The first clumsy time you struggle through "Fur Elise" is nothing like the four hundredth time you play the piece.

  ... That's probably why I adore revision so much. The rewrites are truly my favorite part of the process-because that's when a novel (or poem or short story) really starts to sing. When all the clumsy fingering's done away with, the sour notes perfected ...

  Ac: A Blue So Dark is your first published novel, and you have other books sold and in the works as well. What are you currently drafting or polishing?

  Hs: I'm thrilled to have sold a second YA novel to Flux! Playing Hurt, a romance, is set to release in 2011.

  Playing Hurt centers on two former athletes: Chelsea Keyes, a basketball star whose promising career has been catastrophically snipped short by a horrific accident on the court, and Clint Morgan, an ex-hockey player who gave up his much-loved sport following his own game-related tragedy.

  ... I know what you're thinking: Wait. We go from a literary novel to a romance? In all honesty, my writing interests are every bit as varied as my reading interests. And I hope that Playing Hurt is my first step into writing in many different genres.

  Ac: What are your ten all-time favorite books?

  Hs: Okay-here's the thing. My favorite literature professor in college basically insisted that for a lit student, good is an irrelevant term. The books I was studying had already been deemed publishable. Had already been deemed classics. As a lit student, it was my job to dig out the meaning, to explore the richness, to figure out, in a sense, why the book did get published, did become a classic.

  ... I never unlearned that rule. I still come to a book thinking, Somebody invested a lot of time and money in pub lishing this book. Somebody thought this was important enough to publish. Why?

  So instead of gravitating to specific authors over and over, I'm constantly on the lookout for new voices. And instead of really having favorite books, I now have favorite tidbits that I take away from every novel I read. I always find something to admire. Maybe it's a carefully-crafted plot. Or dialogue that zings. Or gorgeous description. Every published author does something spectacularly well. And the beautiful part is, if you attack books this way, you can help yourself become a better writer every single time you read a new novel ...

  Allie Costa, known online as Little Willow, runs the blog Bildungsroman. As a freelance journalist, she writes reviews, reading guides, booklists, articles, and essays. She is also a playwright, a songwriter, and a hopeful novelist. Additionally, she designs and maintains websites for authors and other artists. As an actress, singer, and dancer, she can be found performing when
she's not writing or reading. Occasionally, she sleeps. Visit her at http://slayground.livejournal.com.