Alice in pieces

In the first story I wrote about Alice Allison Dunnigan, I wrote about her in-progress sculpture, in pieces. Melodramatically, I wrote the lede to misdirect the reader, to make them unsure at first what they were reading about:

 Pieces of her body lay scattered on the floor.

The light coming in the window illuminated the details: the pearls in her ears and around her neck, the gloves covering her hands, the newspaper lying next to her.

But there were missing parts— the ones that had not yet been cast in bronze.

Those pieces will soon form a life-size statue of Alice Dunnigan, the first black female journalist to be credentialed to cover the White House.

My friend Arden Barnes, brilliant photographer that she is, captured a photo of the same moment that caught my eye. I still love the newspaper page that contains her photo and my lede.

Photo by Arden Barnes. Visit her website here—and be rewarded with a cat photo!

I’m currently fighting, though, with this section of my notes, this part of the story of my telling Alice’s story. I’m revising my manuscript again, and I have an introduction and chapter one that I, and the members of my writing group, really like. But I can’t write a single word that I like to begin chapter two.

The thing is: I’ve already written most of what chapter two needs to contain—in other drafts, in journalistic articles. Much of it is even pretty good. But I cannot move past the beginning of the chapter—because I can’t write anything I moderately like—to start patching together those already-written segments.

So now, in yet another medium, Alice is in pieces.

…

I started with my melodramatic lede and I want to end with the same level of melodrama, but I don’t actually want to leave you with that—not when it’s almost Christmas! I’m a little bit the Grinch, but I’ve really been enjoying my baby Christmas tree at the top of one of my bookshelves, and I’m looking forward to this upcoming week of gathering together. So Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones!

Let’s hope Santa puts the beginning of chapter two in my stocking.