The name Josephine has roots in the past. Imagine this:
A boy in a classroom stares at the most beautiful girl there, whose name is Josephine. This girl has long, chestnut hair, with honey colored eyes; if you could have asked the boy what he liked most about her, it would have been her eyes--he has a taste for the exotic even at this early age. Her elfin features and light colored skin make her stand out from the group of culturally diverse students.
This boy's sister is next to Josephine talking to her, trying to convince Josephine that her brother is a great guy and would make an even better boyfriend than the ones she has had so far (a large number for a girl this age!). She has almost succeeded, which is obvious by the flirty smiles Josephine gives to the boy, and the not-so-subtle way in which the girls point at him. But let me back up a bit.
It is the end of the sixth grade and the Southern California summer is not as potent as it has been in recent years. The school environment is beginning to change. This is a subtle change that will blossom in Junior high school and take full effect in high school.
The change is from child to young adult.
In this Los Angeles School District classroom there is a teacher that wants to make this change as smooth as possible. She is arguably one of the better teachers in this middle school and is known for inspiring students with a gentle, but stern disposition. The children love her.
Today, being the last day of the school year and of middle school, she allows them a party to celebrate their coming graduation. When I say "party" I don't mean anything wild; the teacher ensures that all activities are kept innocent. Maybe things are a bit too innocent.
Outside, a pair of trouble makers wander through the hallway, obviously ditching the last day. The teacher notices them and when they peek through the door, she asks if they don't want to join the party. She would prefer them being in a safe environment to wandering the hallways looking for trouble (they will get in trouble anyway in junior high school and high school).
Like the other boys in that classroom, the two troublemakers wander over to a table where Josephine and the boy's sister sit and continue to talk. The girls have qualms about the two outsiders, but allow them into their table. And for the remainder of the hour, the four have a hushed conversation that the boy cannot hear.
The effects are painfully obvious to the boy, however. As the troublemakers talk to Josephine, that smile she wore for the boy dissolves. It becomes a flat line and then a frown. The honey colored eyes now eye the boy differently, with disdain. And the boy's sister is clearly upset, on the verge of tears.
What I have not told you yet is that the troublemakers know the boy from the previous year, where he and they disliked each other; the boy is too smart and unusual for them.
The boy never finds out what the conversation is about. Eventually, the troublemakers leave to introduce chaos in other places.
Josephine never approaches the boy and he never sees her again in junior high, high school--ever. At home, his sister never talks about that day nor what the boys told Josephine to upset her; the boy's sister never will mention it and will surely forget it in time, so that even if he asks her later in life, she will not know what he is talking about.
But the memory of this event is forever branded in the boy's soul.
In the fiction, Tommy and Me, the name "Josephine" belongs to a character that never appears in the story. She is mentioned by one of the other characters; to him, the name serves to remind him of a type of a very specific type of woman. She is a Josephine as much as she is Josephine. In the story, one of the characters will have come across a young woman named Josephine when he was just a young man himself. The experience he had with this young woman shaped the idea of the Josephine in his head and in the novel.
The Josephine as a type of woman has some of its roots here in this essay. It discusses the types of women who are single when they ought not to be, and why they are so.
Basically, a Josephine is a woman who has a lot going for her (looks, job, a healthy number of men interested in her) but for whatever reason(s), she is single and is in no rush to change that. Why is it that these men aren't good enough for you, Josephine? Why????
In the fiction, my goal is to make the "why" as obscure as possible. Hell, it's fun watching men trying to figure women out, especially one as confusing as the Josephine type. However, the temptation of most modern fiction writers is to try to explain why.
This would change the Josephine into an objective. The hero of the story would have to help the Josephine of the story overcome whatever forces shaped her into a Josephine. That would be the plot of a nice romance comedy, actually.
But to do that would diminish the potency of Josephines worldwide.
I made a very tough decision about my Josephine yesterday. Ignoring her was very difficult; every minute was like gouging out one of my eyes. It is part of a tug-of-war we're playing. I ignore her and she ignores me. She won. She can ignore me the longest.
You are both a muse and a beautiful distraction. My writing hasn't been right since I met you and yet I would not give up the pleasant memories I have of you. Luckily, I have the ability to turn my pain into fiction.
But enough of that rant...
Later this week, I will review The Silkworm, and discuss my 2014 goals, which were these:
- I would like to finish and publish The Wizards.
- I would like to finish and publish Ascension.
- I would like to draft The Phantasms of the Present.
- I would like to draft The Sprite II.
- I would like to do more than Self-publish.