Alice Elliott Dark’s Afterword to “In the Gloaming”
It began when I heard a sentence: “He wanted to talk again, suddenly.” The words cut sharply into the jumble of to-do lists, fantasies, snippets of possible writing, worry, and leftover traces of postpartum depression that constituted my mind in.
In early 1993, the author heard the sentence "He wanted to talk again, suddenly." This phrase sparked a vivid memory of her late friend Ian, who had died of AIDS seven years earlier in 1986. Ian was described as charismatic, present, and full of life, making his absence deeply felt. The sentence felt like a message from him, though not literally a ghostly voice. Instead, it seemed to come from a shared consciousness, compelling her to write a story. At the time, the author was struggling with postpartum depression, anxiety about her grandparents and toddler, and perfectionism in her writing. The sentence acted as a catalyst, reigniting her creative impulse despite her emotional turmoil.
The author’s life had changed significantly since Ian’s death. She had married, written a book, and had a child, none of which Ian knew about. Her old self—someone who smoked, dressed eccentrically, and loved dancing—had faded away, effectively dying with him. This transformation was a coping mechanism she had adopted earlier in life to deal with loss: distancing herself from the version of herself that loved someone or something. The sentence "He wanted to talk again, suddenly" forced her to confront this change and reconnect with her past, making her question what Ian might have wanted to say and why he had returned to her in this way.
The author began writing the story in March 1993 while living in a rent-stabilized apartment on West 97th Street in Manhattan. She used an old Olivetti manual typewriter, typing with two fingers. Initially, she attempted to write in a minimalist style, which was popular at the time, but found it challenging. Minimalism in literature refers to a stripped-down writing style that focuses on concise, precise language to convey deep meaning. However, the author struggled with this approach, as her natural writing style was more expansive. She eventually shifted to her preferred style but was still learning the "algebra of a story," meaning how character, setting, and plot combine to create meaning.
The author believes that good stories exist in an intangible form, waiting to be discovered by a writer. She describes them as "inchoate creatures"—partially formed ideas that have their own will and demand the writer’s attention. These stories are not created but found, and the writer’s role is to collaborate with them, much like forming a close friendship or marriage. The writer must be sensitive to the story’s needs and avoid overthinking or forcing it. The author compares this process to encountering a story in the right place at the right time, where the writer becomes its partner to bring it to life.
The story In the Gloaming centers on Laird, a dying man, and his mother Janet. Laird is playful and capricious, even while making his will, while Janet is more reserved. The author initially struggled with the tone of the story, which became vulnerable and tender, unlike her usual wry style. She questioned whether certain elements, like Laird giving lilies of the valley to Janet, were too sentimental. Her husband reassured her that the emotional depth was moving, not mawkish. The story’s setting includes a hospital bed in the den, where Laird and Janet have conversations in the evenings, described as "in the gloaming," a term referring to the twilight or fading light of day.
The author wrote the story scene by scene, often while her toddler was at the park with a babysitter. She would type the scenes and then read them aloud to her husband for feedback. He acted as a critical reader, helping her refine the ending. The process was iterative: she would write, he would reject the ending, and she would revise. This back-and-forth was frustrating, and she even joked about throwing the typewriter out the window. The story’s ending required multiple attempts, with the author experimenting with different settings and times of day to find the right emotional climax.
The story’s ending hinges on a moment of sacrifice by Janet, Laird’s mother. After Laird’s death, Janet and her husband Martin are left grieving. Janet has been focused on caring for Laird, while Martin has been emotionally distant. In the final scene, Martin tentatively suggests including bagpipes in Laird’s funeral service. Janet, instead of dismissing him, accepts his grief as real and acknowledges his right to participate in the moment. This act of grace allows both characters to experience a moment of communion, bridging their estrangement. The author describes this as a sacrifice, though not in the traditional sense of deprivation, but as a choice to prioritize another person’s well-being over her own.
The author later realized that the story’s ending followed a classic literary mechanism: a character makes a sacrifice for the sake of another, leading to a reversal where the character’s understanding of the world expands. This mechanism is common in literature and often results in the character gaining a deeper sense of connection to the world’s moral and spiritual realities. In the story, Janet’s sacrifice—accepting Martin’s grief—allows her to see beyond her own loss and recognize his pain. This moment does not resolve their relationship but gives them a glimpse of a more peaceful, loving world. The author notes that such moments do not automatically make a person good but can guide them toward more compassionate behavior in the future.
