Desperately trying to turn a pig's ear into a silk purse

Somebody (or bodies) has been throwing money at the Monostatos Orchestra. They have made repeated trips to Europe in the last ten years; each time, it is claimed the trip is paid for by an 'anonymous donor'. Each trip costs at least a million dollars, so these donors must have much more than that available to them. This time it is the Proms in the UK; didn't they do the same thing last year with the same caveat? How ironic. Do they think that if the Monostatos is thrown up against the wall of greatness enough times, some of it will stick? Whomever is coming up with all this money is wasting their time as well -- they should have first paid the 50 dollars, or whatever it would take, to have their name changed. They used to be called the Saltzburg Symphony; but those glorious smalltown days are over. They insisted on having a wider scope, a greater message to deliver -- so they are stuck with the inglorious tag of Monostatos -- One State. They are dragging themselves down with chains of their own making, oblivious to it all. Hilarious.

The Mozarts and Lermontov

The Mozart family had no idea that there was a dark angel assigned to them whose purpose was to destroy them and subjugate the gift God had given to Wolf to the entrapment of the world. When Leopold came up with the bright idea that it would be preferable to show off his brilliant children to the courts of the world to having them play for peasants for free in Salzburg it probably never occurred to him that those thoughts were not really his own, but had been silently planted in his mind. It probably never occurred to him to actually ask God what to do about Wolf, in fact; it seemed so obvious that whatever Leopold thought was right would be. And so, little by little, decision by decision, Leopold forged ahead trying to blaze a path for his daughter, whose gifts were starting to fade by comparison with those of his son, and the boy for whom he wanted to find the best possible job. A still, silent voice could hardly reason with the panoply of exciting ideas that popped into his mind whenever he planned Wolf's future. How could he have know that the strongman was being bound so that the house of Mozart could be destroyed?

Rand and the voice...

It had been Chris Rand's intent to take control of everything. By creating his own reality he would be able to create the destiny that he wished. His plan had been so clever and so simple. It was really quite brilliant, he thought. But there was a problem. He had tried to deny it; had tried to dismiss it. He had done everything within his power to get rid of it. But there it was. No matter what he did, nothing changed. For every foul trick of deception or destruction that he played there was the unrelenting fact that there was some sort of voice in the energy of Pamina's flute, and it seemed to be speaking to him, or around him, or about him.

He ran to doctors at the Northland Municipal Hospital in order to explain to them about his problem. He tried to explain that it was not really his problem, but that of someone else. He tried to do so in secrecy, but the Salzburg State Orchestra had to give him some sick time in order to do so, and so there were a few there who were aware of his plight. He did his best to explain that this was not his fault! If they would just talk to Pamina they would realize that this was her problem and not his, and take control of the situation. They could stop the voice! But they refused. They gave him bewildered looks instead, and tried to find a medication that would help him to calm down instead.

Mildred's Choice

Mildred Payne faced a decision long ago, in the years when she alone, she felt, held complete power over Pamina and her gifts. She could have chosen to be subservient to them -- to have sacrificed everything for their development, to have stood in the wings and gathered attention and praise, and maybe even worldly substance, second-hand. Yet, in order to do this she would have had to confront an issue intrinsic to her nature -- she would have had to acknowledge that she didn't understand everything that needed to be understood, she did not have all the information she needed to have. Mildred would have had to reveal that weakness to others as she tramped around trying to find those who did have what she was lacking. And in the process, she knew without a doubt, that she would end up losing control. The mere thought was anathema to her.

And so, Mildred decided on a different scheme -- she would control everything; every breathe, every word. She would turn this strange child into something she felt comfortable with. Nothing would escape her stubby fingers. She would turn the child against itself, and all the while be as powerful as God.

The Brit and P2A

Long ago, when I was wildly naive, I took some novel-writing classes at a local venue. At this place was the instructor, a rather surly guy from somewhere outside of London. He expressed great interest in the book, after the first class reading took me aside and set my mind on fire with ideas of agents, big money deals, etc. Like a fool, I believed him.

After the next reading, which was on a different and more complex chapter, his attitude changed. It seemed he had decided to rewrite the book himself. I had included various things that I thought helped the book to come alive -- including suggesting what music to listen to while reading. This was not to his liking, nor were my references to other writers, such as William Blake, in the preface. He wanted the book stripped down. He also told me to use a nom de plume, so that everyone would realize this was a novel. Really. There is more that I will save for a later time.

I allowed all this garbage to enter my mind, and these lies created blocks to my writing. In addition, I found that I was relinquishing my faith in my own ability to create to someone else, someone who may well have had an agenda of their own.

I wrote not one more draft, but three, of P2A (Piper), not including the prequel. I spent a two-week vacation in France working on it in the evenings. I loved it, but it still was not right, so I set it aside. It was still not finished.

Recently, the Brit emerged again. He had been hired by some sort of start-up publishing house. He proudly proclaimed that he wanted P2A in his 'queue' for publication. He badgered and pestered by email, still entirely obnoxious. I explained to him that his wish was simply not an option. He continued. So I finally confronted him with the damage that I believe he had done to my earlier draft of the book by attempting to hijack it for himself. He sputtered and fumed, but finally went away.

And I was free to work again, having confronted these demons.

In short, when you create a project, stay empowered. Be very careful whom you work with as it evolves. Don't talk about it to your friends. Keep it safe. And keep moving forward.

Pamina Payne in Salzburg, Northland

How did I get stuck in this place? As a child, growing up on the Sound, in Eden, Eastchester, I remember wishfully thinking of the sparkling summer days and cool nights of the Midwest, Wisconsin, but never, ever did I wish for the cold that consumes this freezing, mountainless area in Salzburg. I was abandoned here, by Derek Eastman, who left us for the warmer climes of the West Coast. I was tied down here, like Gulliver at Lilliput, by my children who refused to leave or let me move away. I am being held hostage here, sometimes it seems as though others, such as the dreadful Monostatos, can suck out my energy while I am unable to escape.

Why did the Salzburg State change its name?

Though the Salzburg State Orchestra was certainly not one of the nation's oldest, and definitely not one of the more prestigious, it held a certain distinction. It was determined, by hook or by crook, by desguise or bullying, to reinvent itself continually until the pig's ear, so to speak, had at last, finally, whew, been reworked into a semblance of a silk purse. Well, bullying the audience sufficiently, with propaganda and press, and of course, the patrons, might be enough to persuade the simple folk, who readily admitted they had no sense of music at all, to believe that the Salzburg State Orchestra was something to contend with.

But as much as they appreciated the fact that the orchestra had been called a 'state' orchestra, and thus designated to serve not merely the Salzburg Northland area itself, but in fact the better part of the Northland region, was not sufficient for them. It was not big enough, not grandiose enough for them. In order to make an impact in a larger milieu, they needed something truly outstanding.

No more the simple salt-of-the-earth, homely name for them. They would re-christen themselves the Monostatos Orchestra -- the one state orchestra, the only state orchestra. This name alone would provide them with the level of attention that their pride demanded. Now, new name in hand, they would be ready to take on the world!

Monostatos' Orchestra

In his early years with the Saltzburg Northland Orchestra, Christof Rand had been searching for another orchestra to join. The Salzburg, as one of its Music Directors said," is the kind of place you'll find musicians on the way up or on the way down." Christof, who had started there when he was fairly young, had no intention of fulfilling both criteria.

However, there did not seem to be any orchestra worthy of his gifts that would offer him a spot. He traveled to New York, to LA, to Boston, and to Chicago, to no avail. So he decided to see what effect he could have by staying at place in the Salzburg. He began to dream of auditioning for a higher spot, perhaps even a different one. He began to wonder whom he could use as mentors. Fortunately, those early experiences with some key players had been forgotten, and they had moved on; one to another orchestra, another to retirement.

Would it be possible, he wondered, to create for himself the kind of place where his dreams could come true? Where he could travel outside of the Northland? Where he could perhaps premiere one of his compositions?

It was certainly something to think about.

Purpose of this blog...

My novel, Piper to the Alternative, (P2A) is sitting while I complete a prequel. I am doing some fine-tuning and initiating topics for short stories that may be spun off from it (P2A) where there is not time in the novel to digress. So, perhaps you will bear with me as I jot things down and mull them over here.

What is P2A about? The title came to me so long ago it seems it was in a dream -- in the late 70's, before there was a vital alternative movement in lifestyles and health. It seemed somehow connected to a mandate I felt I had received when I (returned to) playing the flute after a long bout of turning my back on God and defying that God even existed. The mandate was "to play the alternative to hopelessness and despair." That seemed a gigantic task. And one I didn't understand. Neither did I understand the need to write a novel. In fact, at one point I took my earliest draft and notes and tossed them all into a dumpster. I left them overnight and decided that if I retrieved them (if they were still there) I would need to commit to completing the book.

Well, that doesn't describe P2A either. If you were to take the opera "Die Zauberflote", place it in the 20th century, have the characters relate to each other in detailed and personal ways, not in a mystical Egyptian temple, but in a medium-sized town in the Midwest (ultimately), one would end up with P2A.

So, should my posts seem confusing, please peek at their counterparts in the opera and then, with luck, these vignettes will make sense.