Every aspiring author is
told that their work has to have a hook. That it has to stand out from all the
other books aimed at the same market. That it has to have something different.
But there’s a further piece of advice. Make sure it’s not too different. Make
sure it’s something people can relate to. In my quest for publication, the ‘too
different’ charge was often levelled at The Fifth Knight. I was told over and
over that no-one would relate to my
heroine, Sister Theodosia Bertrand. For, as her title implies, she is a nun.
(Oh, Julie Andrews, you have a lot to answer for.) And not only is Theodosia a
nun, she is an anchoress. To echo the title of this post: ‘A what?’
Well, an anchoress is a nun
that lives in isolation and solitude. And fortunately for me, my agent and my
publishers took the view that readers would be just fine in understanding the
concept. Granted, it is not a common occupation and never was. When I first
came across it a few years back, I was intrigued. I visited a remote church in Lancashire, where
I was shown an anchoress’s cell (‘A what?
I asked. By now, you get the picture) that had survived for hundreds of
years. Hearing that a woman had voluntarily been locked in that tiny stone
room, and all for the purposes of glorifying God and saving the souls of others,
had my interest caught.
As I researched the role of an
anchoress more, it became even more fascinating. The religious ceremony that
took place when an anchoress took her final vows included singing of Psalms
from the Office of the Dead. She was sprinkled with dust before entering her
cell and the door was closed after her. Some cells were as little as eight feet
square. With others, even the door was bricked up. There was a tiny window left
through which the anchoress would hear the prayers of others. But she always
had to be screened from view, as to be seen was considered a sin. An anchoress
could be enclosed for twenty years and there are records of fifty years of
enclosure. A guide for anchoresses written at the turn of the twelfth century,
the Ancrene Riwle, advises them to
daily scrape up the earth from the floor of their cells, as a reminder that the
earth will form their graves ‘in which they will rot.’ Eve, the sister of
Aelred, twelfth century abbot of the abbey of Rievaulx, was brought up from the
age of seven at the convent of Wilton before becoming an anchoress. And every
day, these girls and woman spent hours in prayer, devotion and physical deprivation
for the sake of the souls of others.
I imagine that the strains
of ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ have probably died away by now. The
life of an anchoress was hugely demanding
and challenging. Yet what better background for an interesting heroine?
When we meet her at the beginning of The Fifth Knight, nineteen-year-old
Theodosia is struggling with her choice and with the challenges that choice
throws at her. But she’s not giving in. Trouble is, there’s even bigger
challenges coming her way. Challenges she could never have imagined, that put
her life on the line.
And, hand on heart, I
promise you she never, ever makes a set of kids’ clothes out of a pair of
curtains. Go see what she does instead.
Note:
The Fifth Knight can be found on Kindle Serials. At this time, only US
customers can purchase the serialized format. The book will be released in
complete format by Thomas & Mercer in 2013.
What did they do for food and ablutions etc? Did the others pass food through the little window?
ReplyDeleteFor those who'd been walled in, yes. Others shared larger accommodation with other anchorites. And by the 15th century you had the likes of Margaret White being provided with fruit and wine by Lady Beaufort in a cell hung with wall hangings. There's also guidance for anchoresses not to keep any animal except a cat!
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