Hallow This Ground, and the Role of Metaphor

As many of you know, I attempt to be an avid writer. Ideas and inspirations for various stories and essays bombard my thoughts constantly, but when it actually comes to putting the pen to paper (or fingers to the keypad) I fall short.

Sometimes it's sheer laziness. Other times its because I don't feel like my stories are worth telling. In fact, it's been months since the urge to write has hit me so hard that I was compelled to do anything about it. Until last week.

I am a huge fan of my creative writing professors, and my academic adviser, Colin Rafferty, just published his first book, Hallow This Ground. It's a collection of nonfiction essays focusing on memorials and monuments (whose difference I didn't fully understand until now) ranging from Kansas City, Missouri to Berlin, Germany. The essays are a mix of historical fact and personal reflection, and I can't recommend this book enough.

The essay which caught my attention most was Surfacing. In this essay, Rafferty writes about the sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, a freighter that sank in Lake Superior in 1975. What I love about this essay is the use of metaphor. On the surface (sorry, I had to), the essay appears to be the retelling of the sinking, Rafferty's quest to discover more about the tragedy and his connection to one crew member, Robert Rafferty. Halfway through the essay, Rafferty brings in his girlfriend at the time, the person who pushed him most to investigate his connection to the ship. Their relationship ended shortly after their trip to the Lake Superior memorial.

I love Rafferty's use of metaphor to tell the story of this sinking relationship through the lens of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Anyone can tell the story of a relationship on the rocks, and plenty of people have. But the use of metaphor allows for a unique retelling aside from the simple "we met, things got hard, now it's over". 

Midway through Hallow This Ground, I was struck with the need to write. Not just an idea that I could tuck away in the back of my mind. This was an urge that I hadn't felt since my college days. And I found myself reaching for a pen and scribbling notes into one of my journals.

For years I've attempted to write about a relationship I had hoped would last but was crumbling from the first weeks and eventually shattered two years ago. Writing the timeline and my doubts about its success at the time helped me to heal, but I could never find a framework that could grasp the essence of what I was feeling those three years. Raffetry's use of metaphor sparked an idea that had been looming right there in the open, but I never paid attention to: Chandler Hall, the business and psychology building on the Mary Washington campus which was torn down about two years.

I was neither a business or psych major and had little connection to the building. But it was in Chandler that I met this guy. During my first draft of the story I came across a picture of us standing in the grove behind the building, smiling like nothing was going to separate us. An odd shiver crept through me when I realized that grove is now a parking lot. When I showed the essay to Rafferty during workshop, he mentioned the photograph as a good touch. Now as I look back on the essay, I see the photograph as a summary of the relationship: how some relationships in our lives must be torn down to make room for better things. It's painful at the time, but the end result is worth the pain.

Cheers,

Victoria

P.S. I am looking for readers who love to offer constructive criticism to read the essay once it's complete! Message me if you're interested!