Behind the Work and the Stories Ahead: How Hope Princess Santaria Came to Be

Summary

Beginning with this article, updates will be published every Sunday at 7:00 a.m. The stories to come will be delivered at that time. This article describes the process of trial and error through which Hope Princess Santaria came to be, and introduces the new chapter, music and illustrations to be released in the future. This article was rewritten, in the same spirit, after an earlier draft was lost.

Background

Sunday morning was chosen because we regard it as the quietest doorway into the week. We hoped that something brief yet certain might be waiting during an hour free of other plans, and so we settled on 7:00 a.m. Promising a date in advance carries a certain fear, but we believe that continuing is itself a form of hope. Rather than a special occasion, we felt that the repetition of a light being kindled at the same hour next week, and the Sunday after that, would be a greater support to someone.

What came first was not a story but a single wish: that there might be someone who would sit quietly beside a person in the midst of despair and, without forceful encouragement, let that person know it is still all right to be here. Putting this wish into words did not go well for many days. A savior who was too perfect felt distant, while one too ordinary made the word hope seem light, and so the name, the appearance and the manner of speaking were rewritten many times.

The word princess was not chosen for the sake of authority. It was chosen to carry the meaning of one who has accepted the task of standing for the sake of others. In the sound of the name Santaria, we wished to include a faint sense of both a gift and something holy.

Behind the scenes, there have been more things that did not go well than things that did: rereading a finished chapter the next morning and setting it aside entirely, finding that a fragment of music and a scene of the story did not fit together, and finding the expression in an illustration a little brighter than imagined. Most difficult of all are the moments when work comes to a halt over the question of whether this will truly be of help to anyone. Because we have decided to offer the work free of charge and on a non-profit basis, there are no sales to spur us on, and so we have set ourselves the commitment of Sunday at 7:00 a.m.

One day, in the margin of a production notebook, a note was written: hope, when spoken in a loud voice, can ring hollow, so it can only be spoken softly, again and again. That note set the tone of the story. No dramatic miracles occur, but we have resolved that each episode will faithfully depict the coming of dawn. The Sunday 7:00 a.m. update is an attempt to let that dawn take place in the real world as well.

Additional notes

The next chapter depicts a scene in which Santaria once again faces someone she was unable to help. Wishing to tell a story that does not measure people by whether they were saved, we are proceeding with this chapter more carefully than any other. This chapter, too, will be released on a Sunday morning at 7:00 a.m.

Alongside the story, we are preparing music that accompanies its scenes and illustrations in quiet tones. For the music, we are aiming for pieces that hold together even at a volume soft enough to fall asleep to; for the illustrations, few lines and generous empty space. The intention is to leave room in the heart of each reader. In time, we plan to create a format in which the story and music arrive together on Sunday mornings.

This article was once lost, but when written again, it will once more reach someone. The same is true of the story: through the days that do not go well, we will continue little by little, without interruption. We look forward to meeting you again next Sunday at 7:00 a.m.