Writing about family can be a very dangerous business
because not all families teem with the ideals of unconditional love and the consistent
and constant support so often attributed to the institution.
Many, it would seem, are populated with jealous and cranky contrarians
who have the ability to see slights in everything, said or unsaid, action or
inactivity, presence or absence; the types that will see themselves in books
that are not about them and cannot when they are.
These are the sort of people that will never be happy with
how you have written them. If presented in less than flattering light, they
will threaten legal action, disowning, or shunning. While if you choose to be
more positive, they will go around telling everybody that they were your
inspiration and that your book would not have been any good without them.
And if you decide to leave them out and write about other family
members you risk being accused of favoritism, or worse.
So, if you do come from one of those families, it might be
better not to write about them at all. Even if you know it would get you on an
Oprah-like show. In addition to the points raised above, this world is already
full of those kinds of books and given the times we live in, dysfunctionality
has become the new norm.
I jest, of course.
Writing about family is for many writers, like hitting the
mother lode, particularly those with axes to grind and old scores to settle. Those
with scarred and twisted emotions that are often the legacy of growing up in, what
from the outside appeared to be, a normal family.
This should also be a major consideration before starting a
family and entering into parenthood. And, if you must, then teach your children
to read and leave it at that. Whatever you do, don’t teach them how to write.
No good will come of it and besides, they can get by in today’s world with
emojis, and the likes. Or they can take selfies to express their emotions if
they are especially needy and attention driven.
Teaching a child to write is not much different than
inviting an investigative journalist into a cult. Even if there is no story to
tell, they can make one up and sell it as creative fiction.
But it you have already, then you could consider a
preemptive strike. You could pen your version of MY LIFE WITH THOSE HORRIBLE
KIDS THAT SUCKED THE MARROW FROM MY BONES AND THEN COMPLAIN THAT THEIR
INHERITANCE WILL BE TOO SMALL. Or something with a catchier title.
Whatever you do, even if your offspring had taken to following
you around with a notebook—or modern equivalent, don’t think about deserting them.
As tempting as it might sound it really would just be dowsing the smoldering embers
of angst with gasoline. The deserted child who becomes a writer will make you
out to be a drunken philanderer who ran away from all responsibility, even if
you had been abducted by a landing party of malevolent alien intruders.
Or course, if that happened, you might just have a best
seller on your hands, as well as some really sweet vindication.
And children, if you find yourselves the offspring of a
writer, just put yourself up for adoption. Despite the obvious downside, it could be far better than
growing up with all the neglect, moodiness, self-doubt, and obsessiveness that
writers are known for.
But if that is not the life for you, try sucking up to them.
Bring them coffee. Keep the dog and the cat out of the study. Learn to cook and
wash, and iron. Tell them their work is brilliant. Tell them whatever it takes
to get them to finish the book. Who knows? They might get famous after they die
and leave the royalties to you.
And if you are the sibling of a writer . . . well as a
writer with siblings I just happen to have a few opinions on that.
First of all, buy their books even if you have to take out a
loan to do it. It will be cheaper than having to listen to them moan and
complain about how the world is incapable of recognizing their genius when they
come over to crash on your couch for a few months.
Secondly, loan them money even if you have to sell blood for
it. It’s the only way to get rid of a writer and you can get your couch back.
Thirdly, never publicly criticize anything they write about
you. Always be supportive and encouraging until they have made it. Then write
your own tell all and cash in.
But I jest . . .
My family-centric novel The Last Weekend of the Summer comes out in August: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1611882575
And in the meantime, I will be writing a few blog posts on family—for better or worse.
You can read them at: http://peterdamienmurphy.blogspot.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment