Though Et Cetera’s second birthday has passed, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate a bit. It can be hard for me to find words to say about her, because… well, it’s a book. What more can I say that hasn’t already been published?
I think the best way to celebrate is to share some outtakes: material that didn’t make it into Et Cetera. You can read the actual introduction by purchasing a copy of the book.
Kill your darlings (so you can publish them on your blog later)
This little snippet is the biggest ‘kill your darling’ moment of Et Cetera. At one point or another, it was in the introduction (which I shared a reading of a few weeks ago). ‘Twas a dramatic reenactment of when I used to work in the Holy Cross Classics department, and my entire $12/hr job was to pick up library books for one professor.
Said professor would borrow so many books that I kept a reinforced tote bag hidden in the stacks for my shifts, because any other measly tote bag would rip from the sheer weight. This professor also borrowed so many library books that they were banned from borrowing any more, so I needed special permission to borrow any more in their name.
On this particular shift, I was in the dingiest part of Dinand’s dungeon, basically in complete darkness, looking for a copy of the Aeneid. I reach for the translation and, wouldn’t you know it, some guy reaches for it at the exact same time. We start fighting over it, and in my head I’m like, ‘oh my gosh, is this my Holy Cross husband?’ Is this the meet-cute of my dreams: someone as invested in the Aeneid as I am? We strike up a conversation and, in an ultimate act of chivalry, he allows me to take the book. I flip through my prize and notice clear signs that this particular edition was well-loved and well-read.
My lovely editor wanted to chop this part because it isn’t exactly believable… IIRC, she reasoned, “How would a reader know that it was teardrops because those are clear?” My defense was that it was actually blood, but that sounded nasty, so I changed a few details for romance’s sake and to make the reader feel like they were a part of this special story too.
Although this didn’t make it into Et Cetera, I hope you enjoy it and maybe even believe it happened.
Et Cetera Introduction Outtake
Some years ago, I opened a translation of the Aeneid in the basement of my college’s library and found a small imprint in book 9.
A library reader from a hundred years ago, or maybe a month ago, had cried while reading about Nisus and Euryalus, their tears wetting the page.
The reader, loving and all-knowing, thought of me and created indents to place my solemn hands. My fingers fit perfectly where theirs had dimpled the paper. A shock of on-fire recognition rippled through me. I was feeling the same way my caring library reader did!
Vergil had written this for us, I thought. We feel it.
Together, our fingers glided over the same divots, feeling the same feelings, dimpling the pages, caring for the next reader who would be tangled up.
The narrative thread continues to connect all of us, pulling and tugging.