Mystery of Life
Mysteries surround us everyday from wondering what made that guy in the pickup truck cut in front of you to why you can’t seem to get the hang of the electric screwdriver. We either try to figure it out, get angry because we cannot figure it out, or do the sensible thing and let it pass. I guess I am just a curious person who always wonders about everything regardless of its relevance to my life, but there is no greater mystery to me than the dynamics of a family. In my upcoming book, I explore those dynamics within a fictional family that is not only dysfunctional but larcenous as well. To say that this behavior is normal in a multi-generational family structure would be a gross exaggeration. I am certain there are normal, loving families around, but they just do not get the press. For the only child of two only-children, however, I find that the romanticized expectations that I held as a young child of solidarity and security of the large family unit were exceedingly naïve. With the risk of over-generalizing, I must say the fractured family unit has not only damaged the individuals involved but caused disillusionment to those of us raised with the notion that we were the unfortunate ones for being alone.
There are two mysteries that intrigue me more than anything. One is how history affects us today and the other is how our relationships from childhood play a critical role in our development and behavior as adults. Inspiration as a writer comes when I pull from a specific historical event and apply a particular family dynamic. Pushing the characters into situations that propel them beyond a point from which they can return. What happens in the structure and confines of a piece of fiction, where the writer can control the individuals to do to the appropriate act or make the logical decision and the bad guy is always punished, is far different from my observations of the real world. When unchecked emotions fueled by malice or misunderstood actions are combined with a damaged soul, reality can be grim with no resolution, no meaning and no mercy.
Watching to find out what the characters will do gives them realism and validation and gives me limitless opportunity for creativity. Sometimes the nature of their character takes on a life apart from anything I can create. The lives they have lived external to my stories are so much more involved and complex than the sum of their lives in the written word of the story. Thoughts that pop into a writer’s head become automatic, such as, "I know what my character would have done in that situation," and serve to perpetuate the characters’ lives. After all, sequels have to come from somewhere.
In the space between my longing to figure out life’s mysteries and my ambition to write good fiction that others will want to read, I find the journey intense and intensely satisfying.
