April 19, 2013 § Leave a comment
Sometimes I think that a story is just putting two unlikely things together and trying to make sense of it, seeing what happens, letting the two things repel, swirl and then merge into an impressive concoction for our memory to store away like preserves in a dark, cool cellar. The end.
March 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
What if I want to start right in the middle? What if I don’t want to wait for slight literary fame gained from the success of my first three novels to write about my own life? How old is old enough to publish one’s human experience thus far? Do I have to be a sexy female comedian in order to write a heartwarming tale of pluck and perseverance? Do I need the power and notoriety of a sex scandal, a reality television stint, a money laundering scheme in order to appeal to those seeking salacious satisfaction? Should I be a child in the midst of a war or an impoverished criminal with a story of redemption?
What if I want to write about my family? Now. What if I interview certain relatives for whom I don’t feel love under the guise of peace-making in order to get the details I need to finish the story? Manipulative? Okay. So call me human. Like everyone else, I have a plain objective to tell my story, it’s only the method that varies.
I am deeply fascinated by autobiographies. « Read the rest of this entry »