memoirs, life stories & dibs

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

'everyone has at least one good book in them.'

i've heard that addage all my life. i've always wondered what my book would be and i've been even more curious to know how it will end.

i recently realized this whole everyone-has-at-least-one-good-book-in-them phenomenon isn't entirely about me.

some people have the most incredible stories that have helped shape their lives...and consequently, fed the continuous ripple of 'good things' moving forward with life as we know it today.

some people have been to hell and back in their lifetime.

some people have conquered the unimaginable.

and some of those people with the great to-hell-and-back stories or how-i-changed-the-world-without-even-intending-to stories or how-i-conquered-the-unimaginable stories aren't necessarily writers or storytellers.

i wonder how many incredible books haven't been written simply because nobody took the time to document the beauty of the story.

what if anne lamott said, 'you know what? bird by schmird...nobody needs to know this.'?

what if david sedaris had given up after the first rejection letter?

what if elie wiesel said, 'i can't possibly relive this mess.'?

what if frank mccourt said, 'dear self - who cares? you're just a teacher, man.'?

the world would be an entirely different place...for me, at least.

i can tell you one thing for sure right now: if walter decided to write his memoirs today, this would be the apa citation for his first release:

st. james, w. (2012). sorry about that: my life as a submissive tinkler. new york, ny: three rivers press.

and boom.

instant best seller plus morale booster for the wah wah because he gets to share his saturating story with the world.

win-win for all of us.

there are two great stories floating around in my mind right now, neither of which are about a tiny white puppy speckled with brown who has alleged bladder issues.

i can't stop thinking about them (the stories; not the bladder issues); i can't stop wondering who is going to write them to share with the world.

which brings me to my next dilema: who's story is it to tell?

to me, the answer is easy: the person who experiences it has double dibs on writing the story. plain and simple, no arguing. if it happened to you, it's your story. if you choose to share it, you share it with people you trust.

such are the ways of mr. sedaris, ms. lamott, mr. wiesel, and mr. mccourt...tell the story just as you lived it...and bring a little hope and a lot of happiness to tons of people in the process.

which brings me to my current quandary. if a person dies with a beautiful love story tucked quietly beneath their wings, shouldn't that be considered a sacred story? shouldn't you count yourself better off knowing someone chose to share their beautiful story with you? and shouldn't you tuck their story into your own nest of blessings?

on the other hand, do you ever question fate? do you? have you ever found yourelf really, truly questioning the meaning of an exchanged moment with someone who is no longer here?

what if a person told you their beautiful story with high hopes that some day, when the time was right, you would share it with others?

but if you never had the chance to ask them, then how do you really ever know the answer to this question?

which brings us back to my initial pondering: i wonder how many incredible books haven't been written simply because nobody took the time to document the beauty of the story, whether through self-doubt or lack of ownerhip.

i'm simply tossing this little ditty out there into the universe for the sake of pondering and getting it off of my chest...for now. as per usual, writing always makes things better for me in the moment, but the root of the issue remains to be resolved.



1 comment :

Mama O. said...

Ooooooooh, please, please write it. Whatever it is. I will read it. And I promise I will love it.

PS Chancho says that he will read Walter's book because he understands in a way that most humans won't.

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