If I ever publish another book, I think I’ll call it Based on a True Story. That’s what all my writing is. While I don’t look down on those who write fiction, writing about my life as the stories reappear is just easier for me. As I’ve written before, it’s the truth as I remember it. With that proviso, some of my writing may be fiction, but not intentionally.
I know it’s not an original title, but it does help draw an audience when they add that enticement to a television show or a movie. We like to look into one another’s world. We’re a curious lot.
This has been quite a literary week for me. I skipped the Writers of The Villages Expo last Sunday. I tried to get a booth at the event, but I was too late. I’m told that over 3,000 people attended and had the opportunity to purchase books from over a hundred village writers. I hope to land a spot next year. If I do, I’ll let you know. You may wish to attend.
Monday afternoon I listened to a presentation from some people who record audio books. I’m seriously considering recording Pondering Life’s Lessons. When I write, I do my best to tell a story. I think most authors want you to read their book. I want you to hear my story. That’s why I write short tales. I don’t want to lose your interest with a lot of unnecessary details. I’m sure I won’t recover my investment, but it will be another way to share my life with my grandchildren. They can listen to my voice if they don’t want to take the time to read.
I played cards with some friends on Monday evening. We talked a bit about all the great opportunities to “do things” in The Villages. I spoke briefly about the memoir writers’ group I’ve joined. It’s taken the place of Tuesday morning golf on my schedule so that should tell you how much I enjoy the group. It’s great for my ego. We take turns reading our works. I enjoy reading out loud because I think it helps visualize what I’m trying to say. I’m not bragging. Just reporting.
On Tuesday I read a story that I’d written a year ago. It’s called Household Hints. The story itself has an underlying dark side. It’s about my life since Ruth died. I’ve had to take on additional responsibilities. I took them for granted when Ruth did them. I think most of us take things for granted with those we love. We shouldn’t, but we do.
On Thursday I went to an event called Wine and Words. It’s a monthly opportunity for local writers to share books they’ve written. It’s an informal setting where a moderator interviews the author, and an audience listens to the banter. One presenter read poems she’d written. During her discussion with the moderator, she explained that her poems were attempts to stir one’s emotions. Her oral presentation was just the opposite. She read the words, but the emotional ties were lost in her delivery. That’s an important missing link.
I’m going to have the opportunity to present my book. Unfortunately, the moderator reneged on a date for my presentation. When we spoke on the phone a month ago, he said I’d present in March or April. Last night he offered me June, August, or September. The group meets on the first Thursday of the month, and I won’t be here those days, so I’m on the schedule for October 3rd.
I already know what I plan to read to the group. I wrote it 148 stories ago. It was my 500th post called Chunks. While I don’t think it’s my best work, it captures my driving purpose, and hopefully it will resonate with the audience when I read it.
Memoir writers invite you inside their lives to take a look at their journey. Not everything in life is exciting so some peeks may not interest you. I think the stories that connect most frequently are those that are similar to our own. And while we may not remember them all, I believe each tale should be based on a true story.