Around whom do we seek to be? How does that influence our abilities as a writer?
Recently I’ve gone out more. I’ve noticed that the people I go out with, whatever the group is, are all very similar to each other. Yesterday at a luncheon I attended, I felt like I could exchange anyone else in the room for my table members and have the exact same experience.
I do believe writers are people watchers. One suggestion made by a writing teacher long ago was to go to the mall, sit on a bench in the middle of the mall and watch the people go by. Then play the “what if” game in your head. Why is that couple arguing? Did one of them cheat on the other one or did one of them want to buy something the other one objected to? What if the argument was about something else? What could it be? How about that smartly dressed woman clicking her heels rapidly as she almost races across the mall. What is her hurry? What’s her story?
We tend to watch those who are different from us. Somehow it helps us reassure ourselves that although they may not be ok, we are. Or it might give us goals. Many children I taught, when I was teaching, had the goal of growing up to become professional sports players. It didn’t matter that others would point out how few children actually reach that goal. Those children were sure they would. (I’m afraid I exploited that goal by telling them they needed to learn to read so they could read and understand the contract they’d need to sign (so also they needed to learn to write).
Yesterday I thought about all the friends, relatives, and strangers I have known or met over the years. The memorable ones were the most colorful ones.
My mother ran a rooming house. Although I didn’t really like the parade of strangers who would stay in the upstairs part of our home, I did meet many different kinds of people, or hear about them from my step-father, as folks moved in and out. One stayed for a couple years. Others were usually just there while the job they came to town to do lasted. I would say my two favorites were two Native Americans who had strong family ties and went home every weekend. They often brought back stories that I loved to hear. My mother trusted those two and even let them use the kitchen. For most of the rest, the door to our part of the house stayed locked. But there again, it proves we seek out those like us. There is Native American heritage in my family.
I’m not suggesting you run out and befriend a murderer so you can write about one better. Criminals are very guarded with their true feelings and thoughts. But you can certainly think about how the couple arguing in the mall might have been doing so over an item one of them considered shoplifting. What was it? What would have happened if they’d been caught? Or if they hadn’t been caught?
I tried to play the “what if” game at the luncheon yesterday (in my head), but I always came up with the same story.