Comets are sad stories written with light. While we marvel at them, they hasten to their oblivion. You managed to imbue this contradiction in a person.
And it is too obvious, Dave, that the story is written by a poet.
I just loved this: ”The waves far below seemed so small by comparison, flattened out like wrinkles in the skin of the world, and the setting sun at her back threw the cliff shadow far out to sea...” And the way you’ve shown Anne through her relationship with two men, her father and her lover and the reasons of her being alone at the edge of the world and herself. I believed her, and her decision, which you’ve somehow managed to turn into a poetic, positive ending.
Oh Ronnie. Thankyou! I know writers should have a thick skin, and not be troubled if a reader dislikes what they write, but I was concerned that some, or many women, might simply hate it. I can never say I have personally lived the things that my character has lived - but I have witnessed them, and felt them as best I can. As I said to my friend Jed, it would be a poorer world if women could not write as men, or men as women, but in the end it is for readers to decide if something seems true to them. I am delighted that your multi-lingual mind sees this as I intended...
Hey David... I just finished this. I am so new to this art of writing and reading these very layered pieces.
I guess the ending shocked me and made me sad. It was a powerful read. I felt almost like by line like I had no idea what was coming next. And I am seeing the story as it is and as thickly layered metaphor for other things.
But in the end... I just feel for this beautiful spirit pushed to the brink by culture and circumstance... And all the wonder and the beauty just gets lost in sadness and I find myself getting angry at the Martin's of the world. (and trouble by all the times I have been a Martin in some ways).
It is always sort of a gift and an inevitability when a piece is given to you, especially in a moment like you describe comet watching outside of Alice Springs. I have not really had that kind of experience with writing yet. I guess when it happens you don't question it.
It was a powerful powerful read. Hard for a simpleton like me who likes rom coms with happy endings...
Thankyou, Jed my friend. Also - Happy Thanksgiving to you! Not a holiday here in Australia of course, or a thing at all (except - incredibly bizarrely - on Norfolk Island), but Meg reminded me (her Mum was from the USA).
Look - I love a happy ending too, but I've seen some sad ones. "Comet" was a vision from somewhere fundamental and hidden inside me. I hesitate to write from the perspective of a woman, but the world would be dull if women never wrote as men, or men as women.
Self harm is a dangerous topic. All I can say here is that Anna is not (as I feel her inside me) in any way defeated. She has fought hard for freedom and autonomy.
Her act is not one of despair - but of a surfeit of life; an overwhelming unspeakable joy can be as maddening as despair. And as fatal.
In my climbing days, if you are long enough on a cliff face, and full of the ecstasy of living, you can can feel that urge to just... step out. (Obviously, I didn't! But I can imagine a state in which that would happen)...
I am all the way there with you on this. All makes sense. Writing from within... The fluidity of gender... The overwhelming uplift of spirit when you transcend the heavier parts of life.
Your example of climbing is interesting and helps me understand. I had a companion around 2013 through 2015 and she introduced me to climbing and I ended up in some interesting and precarious places.
But she was full of the exact spirit that you describe. Constantly putting herself calmly and lucidly into high risk high consequence situations without a net or a belay rope.
I had this feeling watching her like I was watching astronomical phenomenon. Even as I write this I can feel the connection between her and the character in Comet.
The sort of feeling you get when you watch Alex Honnold free climb.
Thank you for a powerful and moving and in many ways mythic read.
mythic, yes... There was something strange about this story. The circumstance in which it came to me, and the lucidity with which I saw the ending.
I had not thought of this before, until I saw you use the word mythic, but when I wrote this I was travelling and working in remote Aboriginal/First Nation communities where the boundary between natural forces and the people is....fluid. Their cultures are built around complex animist beliefs in which natural phenomena - landscapes, the heavens, animals, weather - are the product of ancestral beings and the interaction of those ancestor beings with one another, and with the people. In one sense this all happened in the deep past when everything was fluid and in the process of being created, but in another sense it is also still now. In ceremony, the past and the present come together. My story is not one of their creation stories - but now that I think about it, the ending definitely reads like one.
:) Thankyou! That brought a smile to my face. If I ever write the book I'm thinking of writing, the dividing line between poetry and prose will be a little vague... like the borders of sleep and waking.
Good morning friend Rebecca. I get some mixed reactions to the ending.....
Suicide is always portrayed as a consequence of depression, despair, grief, or escape from some other kind of pain. I'm suggesting that it can also happen in a state of euphoria....
I admit - at the time of writing Comet, my life was a bit, ummmm ... intense.
Mind you - it still is! But in a better way.
The counterweight image... so happy you like it! That first came to me - forcefully - watching it all happen at the other end of the day, at Sunset, from a very remote desert mountaintop, with vast views to both West and East. It was the night of the full moon, and as the disc of the sun was swallowed at last in the Western sands, a perfect white moon disclosed itself, unclothed itself, from the desert to the furthest East. I could have died from delight in that moment...
Oh! Sharon... you have no idea how glad am I am to see your comment. I added the warning a day after publishing it, because I do know people for whom the topic is very raw and painful, and I have friends and people whose opinion I value very greatly who were a bit shocked by the ending.
However - as I wrote in a reply here to my wonderful new friend Jed Moffitt - " All I can say here is that Anna is not (as I feel her inside me) in any way defeated. She has fought hard for freedom and autonomy.
Her act is not one of despair - but of a surfeit of life; an overwhelming unspeakable joy can be as maddening as despair. And as fatal.
In my climbing days, if you are long enough on a cliff face, and full of the ecstasy of living, you can can feel that urge to just... step out. (Obviously, I didn't! But I can imagine a state in which that would happen)..."
When I wrote Comet, I was trying to say that suicide is not the simple thing it is usually portrayed as. I can envisage suicide from despair, as an emotional response or even a rational response. It's certainly something I regard as an individual's right to consider, and if necessary choose. I can also envisage suicide as simply a culmination point - a willed transcendence.
Well - each reader will make their own meaning of it. We each have our own complex response to the sorrows and ecstasies of existence...
Suicide is not simple and cannot be viewed simplistically, but I do agree about trigger warnings, as suicide is not always a choice to exercise power over your life and your death, but for many, a desperate act out if pain. Jamie Raskins has written powerfully about the suicide of his gifted brilliant much loved son. I have written some pieces for friends who made this choice, but haven’t been able to feel time is right to publish or that the pieces aren’t right, yet.
Mmmm... I saw the ending, and the beginning, very clearly, then I wrote it from both ends - finally joining in the middle. Just like the Sydney Harbour Bridge, in fact - only much cheaper :)
Thankyou! I'm delighted you like it. Writing is generally a solitary experience, and back then in the NT - out in the desert lands with no contacts in the world of writing - it felt very solitary indeed. I was distinctly uncertain about whether "Comet" - or anything I wrote - would be meaningful to other people, and to have it accepted at all - let alone as the title piece - was a big boost at a time when I really needed one.
I was (and remain) anxious as to whether Anne "works" as a character for readers who are not of my gender. My partner Meg reassures me, but I can't claim her as an impartial critic :) All I can say is that the story created itself in my head, and it was always from a female perspective. It's not about any actual person, but it is about (my perception of) the pressures we exert upon ourselves, the pressure we feel from others and the struggle to find meaning as we steadily accumulate joys and griefs in life.
Comets are sad stories written with light. While we marvel at them, they hasten to their oblivion. You managed to imbue this contradiction in a person.
And it is too obvious, Dave, that the story is written by a poet.
Chapeau, as the French say.
Thankyou, friend Nikos! A lovely and thoughtful comment... as always! And yes, Poetry is an incurable condition, I'm afraid....
So, chapeau to you too or, as they still sometimes say say here in Oz: "Bonzer, mate!"
Best Wishes - Dave :)
I just loved this: ”The waves far below seemed so small by comparison, flattened out like wrinkles in the skin of the world, and the setting sun at her back threw the cliff shadow far out to sea...” And the way you’ve shown Anne through her relationship with two men, her father and her lover and the reasons of her being alone at the edge of the world and herself. I believed her, and her decision, which you’ve somehow managed to turn into a poetic, positive ending.
Oh Ronnie. Thankyou! I know writers should have a thick skin, and not be troubled if a reader dislikes what they write, but I was concerned that some, or many women, might simply hate it. I can never say I have personally lived the things that my character has lived - but I have witnessed them, and felt them as best I can. As I said to my friend Jed, it would be a poorer world if women could not write as men, or men as women, but in the end it is for readers to decide if something seems true to them. I am delighted that your multi-lingual mind sees this as I intended...
Thankyou - and Best Wishes as always - Dave
Hey David... I just finished this. I am so new to this art of writing and reading these very layered pieces.
I guess the ending shocked me and made me sad. It was a powerful read. I felt almost like by line like I had no idea what was coming next. And I am seeing the story as it is and as thickly layered metaphor for other things.
But in the end... I just feel for this beautiful spirit pushed to the brink by culture and circumstance... And all the wonder and the beauty just gets lost in sadness and I find myself getting angry at the Martin's of the world. (and trouble by all the times I have been a Martin in some ways).
It is always sort of a gift and an inevitability when a piece is given to you, especially in a moment like you describe comet watching outside of Alice Springs. I have not really had that kind of experience with writing yet. I guess when it happens you don't question it.
It was a powerful powerful read. Hard for a simpleton like me who likes rom coms with happy endings...
You are an amazing writer man.
Thankyou, Jed my friend. Also - Happy Thanksgiving to you! Not a holiday here in Australia of course, or a thing at all (except - incredibly bizarrely - on Norfolk Island), but Meg reminded me (her Mum was from the USA).
Look - I love a happy ending too, but I've seen some sad ones. "Comet" was a vision from somewhere fundamental and hidden inside me. I hesitate to write from the perspective of a woman, but the world would be dull if women never wrote as men, or men as women.
Self harm is a dangerous topic. All I can say here is that Anna is not (as I feel her inside me) in any way defeated. She has fought hard for freedom and autonomy.
Her act is not one of despair - but of a surfeit of life; an overwhelming unspeakable joy can be as maddening as despair. And as fatal.
In my climbing days, if you are long enough on a cliff face, and full of the ecstasy of living, you can can feel that urge to just... step out. (Obviously, I didn't! But I can imagine a state in which that would happen)...
I am all the way there with you on this. All makes sense. Writing from within... The fluidity of gender... The overwhelming uplift of spirit when you transcend the heavier parts of life.
Your example of climbing is interesting and helps me understand. I had a companion around 2013 through 2015 and she introduced me to climbing and I ended up in some interesting and precarious places.
But she was full of the exact spirit that you describe. Constantly putting herself calmly and lucidly into high risk high consequence situations without a net or a belay rope.
I had this feeling watching her like I was watching astronomical phenomenon. Even as I write this I can feel the connection between her and the character in Comet.
The sort of feeling you get when you watch Alex Honnold free climb.
Thank you for a powerful and moving and in many ways mythic read.
Hey Jed.
mythic, yes... There was something strange about this story. The circumstance in which it came to me, and the lucidity with which I saw the ending.
I had not thought of this before, until I saw you use the word mythic, but when I wrote this I was travelling and working in remote Aboriginal/First Nation communities where the boundary between natural forces and the people is....fluid. Their cultures are built around complex animist beliefs in which natural phenomena - landscapes, the heavens, animals, weather - are the product of ancestral beings and the interaction of those ancestor beings with one another, and with the people. In one sense this all happened in the deep past when everything was fluid and in the process of being created, but in another sense it is also still now. In ceremony, the past and the present come together. My story is not one of their creation stories - but now that I think about it, the ending definitely reads like one.
I thought you said this wasn’t poetry. Great piece of work.
:) Thankyou! That brought a smile to my face. If I ever write the book I'm thinking of writing, the dividing line between poetry and prose will be a little vague... like the borders of sleep and waking.
I wish this went on indefinitely. I was her. Most definitely. That is how powerful this post was. You should totally write your Novel
Wow Naz. That's a deeply delightful compliment.... Thankyou!
Since returning to publishing via Substack (well, self-publishing at least) I feel that I am "warming up" for something larger....
I just need to gain the confidence to do that.
D
How gorgeous, Dave. And how appropriate in its ending. I love a good sailing off a cliff. And this line--
"like a counterweight hauling up the sun."
I am jealous just pea-green that I didn't come up with that image myself. However, I am glad that is you, who did so.
Good morning friend Rebecca. I get some mixed reactions to the ending.....
Suicide is always portrayed as a consequence of depression, despair, grief, or escape from some other kind of pain. I'm suggesting that it can also happen in a state of euphoria....
I admit - at the time of writing Comet, my life was a bit, ummmm ... intense.
Mind you - it still is! But in a better way.
The counterweight image... so happy you like it! That first came to me - forcefully - watching it all happen at the other end of the day, at Sunset, from a very remote desert mountaintop, with vast views to both West and East. It was the night of the full moon, and as the disc of the sun was swallowed at last in the Western sands, a perfect white moon disclosed itself, unclothed itself, from the desert to the furthest East. I could have died from delight in that moment...
D:)
Here is the ending to a poem I wrote years ago—
Someone decided a long time ago that the universe
is very large. But this is not true. The universe is a tiny thing,
a fierce little engine plowing through darkness.
Though it is very small, it hauls the sun over the hill every
morning. And though it is not very smart, it understands
something we don’t, something not even God
can teach us. It knows that fusion is better than
fission. It understands the meaning of this metaphor.
It knows that we may never figure this out.
It knows it doesn’t have to be this way.
But we do not.
Ha! Perfect!!! :)
fantastic stuff, you're clearly born to write ..thanks for sharing!
Lovely quietly powerful “child” of poetry and prose♥️
Self-harm is a value judgment term and when applied to suicide, risks erasing the agency of the choice😿
Oh! Sharon... you have no idea how glad am I am to see your comment. I added the warning a day after publishing it, because I do know people for whom the topic is very raw and painful, and I have friends and people whose opinion I value very greatly who were a bit shocked by the ending.
However - as I wrote in a reply here to my wonderful new friend Jed Moffitt - " All I can say here is that Anna is not (as I feel her inside me) in any way defeated. She has fought hard for freedom and autonomy.
Her act is not one of despair - but of a surfeit of life; an overwhelming unspeakable joy can be as maddening as despair. And as fatal.
In my climbing days, if you are long enough on a cliff face, and full of the ecstasy of living, you can can feel that urge to just... step out. (Obviously, I didn't! But I can imagine a state in which that would happen)..."
When I wrote Comet, I was trying to say that suicide is not the simple thing it is usually portrayed as. I can envisage suicide from despair, as an emotional response or even a rational response. It's certainly something I regard as an individual's right to consider, and if necessary choose. I can also envisage suicide as simply a culmination point - a willed transcendence.
Well - each reader will make their own meaning of it. We each have our own complex response to the sorrows and ecstasies of existence...
Suicide is not simple and cannot be viewed simplistically, but I do agree about trigger warnings, as suicide is not always a choice to exercise power over your life and your death, but for many, a desperate act out if pain. Jamie Raskins has written powerfully about the suicide of his gifted brilliant much loved son. I have written some pieces for friends who made this choice, but haven’t been able to feel time is right to publish or that the pieces aren’t right, yet.
Wonderful writing, David. I loved it.
Thankyou, Damian! :)
Stunning. The language and imagery were…poetry, really, hidden in prose. Thank you for sharing. It’s still rattling around inside me.
Thankyou, Kiki...
I just read your Autonomy poem, and I now have that - rattling around inside me.
"You named me..." Such a powerful line. My story is about a woman who has fought for autonomy.
And she is not defeated.
Best Wishes - Dave
Beautiful story DK. The ending took me by surprise. 🥰🥰
Ah! CB!! Welcome back to the shack!
Mmmm... I saw the ending, and the beginning, very clearly, then I wrote it from both ends - finally joining in the middle. Just like the Sydney Harbour Bridge, in fact - only much cheaper :)
Hi Jeremy
Thankyou! I'm delighted you like it. Writing is generally a solitary experience, and back then in the NT - out in the desert lands with no contacts in the world of writing - it felt very solitary indeed. I was distinctly uncertain about whether "Comet" - or anything I wrote - would be meaningful to other people, and to have it accepted at all - let alone as the title piece - was a big boost at a time when I really needed one.
I was (and remain) anxious as to whether Anne "works" as a character for readers who are not of my gender. My partner Meg reassures me, but I can't claim her as an impartial critic :) All I can say is that the story created itself in my head, and it was always from a female perspective. It's not about any actual person, but it is about (my perception of) the pressures we exert upon ourselves, the pressure we feel from others and the struggle to find meaning as we steadily accumulate joys and griefs in life.
Very Best Wishes - Dave :)