|
Geister |
 |
|
|
 |
You might say it runs
in her extended family
By PATRICIA J. GEISTER
of TheColumnists.com
|
Writing is in my genes. My Uncle Pierce and Cousin Wade are poets. Three of my other cousins are essayists and fiction writers. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, my late and great ancestor, had a flair for mystery and the unusual. On another branch of my family tree, Charles Dickens is among the ancestors of a cousin in Texas. I've interviewed a few hundred people whose lives had no celebrity status and usually found them to be interesting, talented, good subjects. With few exceptions, I can say the same about most of the local or internationally known celebrity types. Everyone has a story to be told. Since the home computer became accessible and the Internet took us into its grip, every third person on the Earth has written a book and is seeking an agent. I know of what I speak. Perhaps for the first time in recorded history, a literary agent is the most independent and sought after living, breathing human being. No more do they go begging for clients. "Don't call me, I'll call you, if you're saleable," is not simply a figure of speech. I visited the Jack London museum in the San Francisco Bay Area and saw the exhibit of London's 120 letters of rejection. John Grisham wasn't rejected that many times, but when he did find a publishing house that had the good sense to take him on, he made them proud and some very big money, too. Being the good and appreciative man that he is, he stayed with them even when the bigger houses tried to woo him away. I feel good to see my name above my published work. I understand exactly why they kept at it. My attraction to the fiction format is that I can get the conclusion that suits me. My characters are born of my imagination. They do as I say, not as I do. Well, most of the time. There have been instances when my characters and plots took on lives of their own and chose to exert their will over mine. I had it all laid out for Eddie, my hero, to see the light, come to his senses and walk away from the bad girl. The jerk! He let her lure him into the bedroom, where she pulled a gun and shot him dead. She made it look like self defense and got away with it. He hadn't bothered to provide enough life insurance or assets for his wife to give him a decent funeral. I was very disappointed. How dare he turn out to be so true to life? Where's the fiction? That piece got put aside for a while. Eventually, I tried again to see if this story had any merit. Inspiration took over and came up with a different ending. Eddie didn't get shot, but he wasn't a hero, either. He was your everyday, average guy who let the ever living primal urge take over where good sense left off. The bad girl laughed in his face, robbed him blind, then did him the favor of kicking him out of her bed and life. The wife found a good divorce lawyer and made my Eddie a sadder, but not a lot wiser, man. Not even fiction always gets a happy ending. My combination of characters and circumstances didn't make it possible. After writing a book about my late mother's life and family, I made myself a promise: Never again. I had to re-live a lot of those years involving my life, too. The sad parts wrung tears and despair out of the very core of my soul. How sweet the happy times were. I laughed louder and harder at the good times than I probably did in the instant of their happening. Wounds were inflicted a second time. Some healed, some didn't. That's the trouble with the truth: History can't be changed. I'm glad I did write that book, though. Mom really enjoyed it. She got to read all but the last three chapters. I made her happy enough that she agreed not to sue me. Since then I've been able to recall and write some of the funny things out of those years. It felt good to break that promise. That's why I write. I need
to. It's in me. In works of fiction my characters
are who I say they are. They have their flaws, their sparkles,
triumphs and failures. Happy endings come about if they fit the
mold. As the writer, I make the mold. If the story isn't meant
to end in a movie-type happy way, the readers haven't wasted
any time. They've learned something about life. |