Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

I don’t really believe in luck.

At least, I don’t believe in luck as something we can affect. Things happen; sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re not. People who we think have “good luck” are just folks who make better decisions than others. People who have repeated “bad luck” are usually not paying close enough attention to what’s going on around them. Beyond that, it’s just the randomness of life. Stuff happens.

So, why do I have a “lucky penny?”

It’s an old British penny from the Victorian era, struck back in the age when pennies were big, made of copper, and worth something. It has weight. It sings when you flip it. It’s over 150 years old. When you clunk a stack of these penny coins down on a table, you expect to be able to buy something of real value.

To be honest, mine isn’t a particularly “lucky” penny, since it’s like the third one I’ve owned. I lost the first two, which doesn’t seem so lucky when you break it down. And this old penny coin isn’t usually associated with luck, not like a sixpence or a horseshoe are. It’s just an old penny, dinged, smoothed by a century of use, the patina worn off from my thumbing it like a worry-stone. It’s just a coin.

So, why do I call it my “lucky penny?”

It’s one of my internal inconsistencies, one of my quirks.

(And here’s where I turn this around and make this about writing).

In my books, I don’t worry if my characters aren’t internally consistent, because real people aren’t internally consistent. People don’t make sense all the time. In politics, people are rabidly anti-socialism but love their Medicare. In love, people cheat on their spouse but are completely intolerant when that spouse pays the slightest attention to anyone else. And there are people who, like me, try to view the world with a rational eye, yet carry a lucky penny or touch wood to ward off evil.

I’ve mentioned this before, but here it is again: If a character has inconsistencies, s/he will be able to justify and explain away each and every one.

For me, I know my lucky penny doesn’t affect the randomness of the universe around me. I know it won’t keep bad things from happening. Nevertheless, I like carrying it. When I touch it, I think of the countless other hands that have touched and passed it along through its 150-year history. When I look at it, I think of the passage of time, and how constant some things are, and I feel calmer.

Lucky me.

k