"She had always been an unusual girl..." is the opening line I penned for my future autobiography when I was eight years old. When you're eight, it's easy to imagine that one day you'll be so astonishingly popular and successful that everyone will want to read about your life. And I knew, from Mrs. Marlin, the third grade teacher who had effused over my opening line in an essay about the Chicago blizzard of 1967, that a gripping opener was essential to capturing a reader's attention.
I guess a great title is probably needful, too. In that case, maybe "Nothing Extraordinary" shouldn't be the title of this blog... or the title I'm contemplating for my autobiographical novel. I'm calling it a novel because that will give me the freedom to launch into any fantasy that pops into my noggin as I'm writing, and it will also give me an opportunity to write the absolute truth without letting anyone know with absolute certainty that I actually did any of the things I might confess to having done.
And since I've had two complete psychotic breaks this year, during which time I experienced an alternate reality that I later found to be entirely fictional, I am fascinated by the possibility that some of my most traumatic memories might actually be the product of temporary insanity, despite their life-altering effects.
I made major changes in my behavior and character after horrific experiences that are indelibly etched in my memory. The possibility that they might never have occurred is slim, I'd say. The difference between those experiences and the brief periods of delusion is that, during those delusional episodes, what I thought was real seemed more like an extended dream... and made less sense than the stories of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, while the experiences of my shockingly wild youth are as memorable as any of the more ordinary experiences I recall-- like the births of my children, the building of our house in Illinois... and the many other events I might chronicle for my children's children in an autobiography that I might or might not claim is factual and accurate.
Life could be short, from here onward. I should do something with the time. I'm not making any money, and I'm not creating any incredible art... so maybe I should write my memoirs, call them fiction or not... and see if there's a publisher who will be as gaga over my writing as Mrs. Marlin was. She pronounced me a writer at the age of eight. I have never been willing to relinquish the title, no matter how badly written any of my material might be.
My dearest Sue! You are one of my favorite actresses of all time. You are an Incredible director. I still remember being one of your minions while you directed "The Belle of Amherst" at Augustana College. I directed a friend of mine in "The Belle of Amherst" and did everything exactly as you had done. Charles Nelson Reilly attended the performance and I was confident that he would love it. He loved me but hated the actress. I should have cast you. Both of our careers might have turned out differently. I have claimed the title of being "The worst writer ever to have penned a word." Therefore, you are already doing better than me! I love writing even if I am the worst. Someone has to be the best and someone has to be the worst. I am filled with JOY being whom I was meant to be. A writer. I hope you can find your own JOY too! I love you Sue!
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