Can We Talk?
I received a letter today, December 23, 2008 (Christmas Eve Eve), that started me thinking. The letter was from a person I’ve only met a few times, so I don’t know her that well. But I do know that she’s kind and that she took the time to write me a very nice letter. I’m sure we could be friends, if given the opportunity.
Anyway, the letter was about this “Life is Real” series, how she’d been reading it almost daily. Despite the subject matter, the letter writer found the stories to be positive, and she thanked me for reminding her to live each day of her life. As a result of our efforts, she let me know that she was making a donation to cancer research in my name.
Letters like that can give you two or three days of renewed energy. Somehow, the series had impacted her, made a difference in her life.
But at the same time, my potential friend admitted that some of her colleagues found the series to be too sad. Try as they might, they simply couldn’t bear to read it.
I have to admit this bothered me a bit. Why? Because it’s so dad-gum true! No matter how hard I try, I simply can’t escape the underlying sadness of what we’re doing here. No matter what particular spin I put on it, the truth is we are writing about extremely painful things. A wife will probably lose her husband. Two kids are likely to lose their father. A mother and father are facing the loss of their son.
On the other hand, I’m not a sad, “oh woe is me” type of person. Oh, I have my quirks, but overall I’m fairly positive. Plus, as the old Disney song says, I love to laugh. A lot. I find humor in almost everything, even this.
But it’s a challenge, a true writer’s dilemma, to find the right balance between staying positive and telling it like it is. If I focus only on the good stuff or joke around too much, I may sound flippant or insensitive. People may think I’m in denial, or, worse, I may place the most important element of this story, honesty, in jeopardy. But if I’m too sad, well, who needs that? People are messed up enough without me helping them along.
Death is surely a taboo subject in America. Some people are fairly open about it, but a great many would rather talk about practically anything else. (Shoot, I can name dozens of people who refuse to read a sad book or watch a film that doesn’t have a happy ending.)
But by committing to this series, the Oklahoman is putting that issue up for debate. “Can we talk about death?” they’re asking. And if not, why? Is it better to live with our heads in the sand or should we think about such things from time to time?
Can we handle the truth?
I’m reminded of a great conversation between Professor Hilbert and Harold Crick, that would-be tragic hero in the film Stranger Than Fiction. Harold tells the Professor that “I can’t die right now. It’s just really bad timing.” And Professor Hilbert responds with this observation: “No one wants to die Harold, but unfortunately we do. Harold, listen to me. Harold, you will die, some day, some time. Heart failure at the bank. Choke on a mint. Some long, drawn-out disease you contracted on vacation. You will die. You will absolutely die. Even if you avoid this death, another will find you… I’m sorry, but it’s the nature of all tragedies, Harold. The hero dies, but the story lives on forever.”
For what it’s worth, regardless of whether I’m living out a tragedy or a romantic comedy here, I’m doing my best to make the story as poetic and meaningful as the one written for Harold Crick, a story that is positive and funny and, yes, at times rather sad. The story may not live on forever, but perhaps, just perhaps, it will spark some debate and make a difference for some of those who give it a chance.
If you enjoyed this post, please consider to leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.
Comments
No comments yet.
Leave a comment