Jennifer Anne Gordon's Blog
December 9, 2020
Agoraphobia
Previously Published on LadiesOfHorrorFiction.com
At the height of the most powerful creative work of her life, Shirley Jackson suffered from intense agoraphobia. There were months that she was unable to leave her home. Her isolation, and at times deep mental instability led her to create work that inspire me and legions of other horror lovers, now. If there were no Haunting of Hill House, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle, then books like Beautiful, Frightening, and Silent and From Daylight to Madness (my Literary Gothic Horror novels) would not exist.
I would have a voice that I would perhaps still be afraid to use.
In my past, I too have also suffered from this affliction, this all-encompassing fear to leave the house. It was years ago now, and I was involved in a powerfully abusive and controlling relationship. I made my living selling my artwork online. My world was small, it consisted of my old house, my art studio, my dog, my fear, and my imagination.
I created paintings and collages of sad women, former vaudeville stars, most who died young, seeped in tragedy and gin. I saw myself in those women, I created each one as a way of screaming out of my closed windows and bolted doors. I created them as a reminder to the world and to myself that once upon a time I too was an actress on a stage, I was a poet, I was a person.
It took years to overcome, and in the past few months, I have felt at times, that my old friend fear was coming back to me. An old friend like this never really leaves, does it?
At the end of February my fiancé and I returned home from a trip to Spain, my debut novel had just been released and sold record numbers during the presale from my publisher. People would come into the dance studio where I worked with copies of my novel to sign, which I did, in a beautiful metallic red marker.
If you have read my book you will understand why I wrote in red.
I felt at that time that I was on a precipice of something, perhaps something beautiful, perhaps something frightening…and in the end we were all on the precipice of something silent.
It was the first week of March and suddenly my dance students were starting to cancel lessons. When I was out in public and heard a cough, I grew frightened. There was something creeping out of the shadows for me, for all of us. It was not just a virus, but also paranoia.
By March 16, the few students I had that day came in and wept, I wept. In a job that depends on me touching people, physically and emotionally, we went without touch.
The next day the dance studio shut down, and I was once again, in my house, and afraid to leave. Luckily for me, this go around, I am with someone who supports me, and loves me, but once again I find myself with an exceedingly small world. An old house, a dog, my fear, and now…my books.
I am now 47,000 words into my third horror novel, the second part in a sweeping historical horror tale that deals with isolation, fear of what is outside, and what is inside your head. I realize I am still that artist telling a story of a sad woman, screaming from behind a closed door. I am still someone looking into a broken mirror and finding myself and the world broken in two.
As artists, and authors, we are mirrors of the world, we are reaching the fingers of our imagination out and bringing back fragments of stories, pieces of characters, memories that we are creating, and giving to imaginary people.
What happens though when we reach out towards something, and now, we are met with walls. My hands seem to scrape against the things that are keeping me safe. They long to break through, but instead they come back with bruised knuckles.
So…. that goes in the book. It all goes in the book.
Tomorrow I leave my house to go back to a job that will be a shadow of what it was a few months ago, it is a job I know is ending completely by October. It is a shadow that both scares me and intrigues me. Until then, I rest my head against this pillow, I hear a large animal rustling in the deadfall outside my window. The air feels cool for late summer as the wind blows in off the river that still runs high from too much rain for too long.
My imagination is there with my new main characters, Isabelle, and Francis. They are the result of these long months, of the sickness with no cure, the almost birth of a second round of agoraphobia. They fight against it all, as do I.
At the end of this long endless day when their eyes close so do mine.
I will end this with a list of the things that inspired me today, and I encourage all of you to hit me up on facebook @JenniferAnneGordonAuthor and tell me what is inspiring you.
1-People that are lost...specifically people lost at sea, or at war, I am drawn to the women left behind.
2- Cold Climate Islands, specifically in the Northern Atlantic.
3- Tidal pools
4 -Photos that are out of focus, or over exposed.
5- The Victorian Spiritualist movement, and mesmerism used for therapeutic reasons.
6- Waking from a dream, just to see the person sleeping next to you has woken at the same time, and one or both of you whisper, “I just had the worst dream.”
At the height of the most powerful creative work of her life, Shirley Jackson suffered from intense agoraphobia. There were months that she was unable to leave her home. Her isolation, and at times deep mental instability led her to create work that inspire me and legions of other horror lovers, now. If there were no Haunting of Hill House, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle, then books like Beautiful, Frightening, and Silent and From Daylight to Madness (my Literary Gothic Horror novels) would not exist.
I would have a voice that I would perhaps still be afraid to use.
In my past, I too have also suffered from this affliction, this all-encompassing fear to leave the house. It was years ago now, and I was involved in a powerfully abusive and controlling relationship. I made my living selling my artwork online. My world was small, it consisted of my old house, my art studio, my dog, my fear, and my imagination.
I created paintings and collages of sad women, former vaudeville stars, most who died young, seeped in tragedy and gin. I saw myself in those women, I created each one as a way of screaming out of my closed windows and bolted doors. I created them as a reminder to the world and to myself that once upon a time I too was an actress on a stage, I was a poet, I was a person.
It took years to overcome, and in the past few months, I have felt at times, that my old friend fear was coming back to me. An old friend like this never really leaves, does it?
At the end of February my fiancé and I returned home from a trip to Spain, my debut novel had just been released and sold record numbers during the presale from my publisher. People would come into the dance studio where I worked with copies of my novel to sign, which I did, in a beautiful metallic red marker.
If you have read my book you will understand why I wrote in red.
I felt at that time that I was on a precipice of something, perhaps something beautiful, perhaps something frightening…and in the end we were all on the precipice of something silent.
It was the first week of March and suddenly my dance students were starting to cancel lessons. When I was out in public and heard a cough, I grew frightened. There was something creeping out of the shadows for me, for all of us. It was not just a virus, but also paranoia.
By March 16, the few students I had that day came in and wept, I wept. In a job that depends on me touching people, physically and emotionally, we went without touch.
The next day the dance studio shut down, and I was once again, in my house, and afraid to leave. Luckily for me, this go around, I am with someone who supports me, and loves me, but once again I find myself with an exceedingly small world. An old house, a dog, my fear, and now…my books.
I am now 47,000 words into my third horror novel, the second part in a sweeping historical horror tale that deals with isolation, fear of what is outside, and what is inside your head. I realize I am still that artist telling a story of a sad woman, screaming from behind a closed door. I am still someone looking into a broken mirror and finding myself and the world broken in two.
As artists, and authors, we are mirrors of the world, we are reaching the fingers of our imagination out and bringing back fragments of stories, pieces of characters, memories that we are creating, and giving to imaginary people.
What happens though when we reach out towards something, and now, we are met with walls. My hands seem to scrape against the things that are keeping me safe. They long to break through, but instead they come back with bruised knuckles.
So…. that goes in the book. It all goes in the book.
Tomorrow I leave my house to go back to a job that will be a shadow of what it was a few months ago, it is a job I know is ending completely by October. It is a shadow that both scares me and intrigues me. Until then, I rest my head against this pillow, I hear a large animal rustling in the deadfall outside my window. The air feels cool for late summer as the wind blows in off the river that still runs high from too much rain for too long.
My imagination is there with my new main characters, Isabelle, and Francis. They are the result of these long months, of the sickness with no cure, the almost birth of a second round of agoraphobia. They fight against it all, as do I.
At the end of this long endless day when their eyes close so do mine.
I will end this with a list of the things that inspired me today, and I encourage all of you to hit me up on facebook @JenniferAnneGordonAuthor and tell me what is inspiring you.
1-People that are lost...specifically people lost at sea, or at war, I am drawn to the women left behind.
2- Cold Climate Islands, specifically in the Northern Atlantic.
3- Tidal pools
4 -Photos that are out of focus, or over exposed.
5- The Victorian Spiritualist movement, and mesmerism used for therapeutic reasons.
6- Waking from a dream, just to see the person sleeping next to you has woken at the same time, and one or both of you whisper, “I just had the worst dream.”
February 26, 2020
I guess it's official
Hello Loves!
First, if you stalked me all the way here that means you must really like me. You must have clicked quite a few links to get here, you may even have purchased my debut novel Beautiful, Frightening, and Silent.
However it happened I am glad you are here. The book was released for pre-orders a couple weeks ago and much to my delight, I broke the pre-sale records for my publisher (Breaking Rules Publishing). Since then it has been a bit of a whirlwind of two weeks.
I'm happy to say that the pre-order books have shipped out and the book is now available ( as of yesterday) on Amazon Prime, and Kindle for immediate download.
If you have read the book and want to leave a review, be kind....I am very sensitive.
xoxo (oh that makes me seem like Gossip Girl)BEAUTIFUL, FRIGHTENING, AND SILENTBEAUTIFUL, FRIGHTENING, AND SILENT
First, if you stalked me all the way here that means you must really like me. You must have clicked quite a few links to get here, you may even have purchased my debut novel Beautiful, Frightening, and Silent.
However it happened I am glad you are here. The book was released for pre-orders a couple weeks ago and much to my delight, I broke the pre-sale records for my publisher (Breaking Rules Publishing). Since then it has been a bit of a whirlwind of two weeks.
I'm happy to say that the pre-order books have shipped out and the book is now available ( as of yesterday) on Amazon Prime, and Kindle for immediate download.
If you have read the book and want to leave a review, be kind....I am very sensitive.
xoxo (oh that makes me seem like Gossip Girl)BEAUTIFUL, FRIGHTENING, AND SILENTBEAUTIFUL, FRIGHTENING, AND SILENT
