That’s a classic question. It’s led to all sorts of fiction—and plenty of dissembling and outright lies. What did you do during the war grandpa? Oh, I was a pilot—a resistance fighter, a double agent, a USO bandleader…          In ten and twenty and twenty-five years, someone will ask: What did you accomplish during the pandemic? Did you write a novel? Did you take up organic gardening? Did you save the post office? Did you learn a second language?          Stories are bound to come out of this thing. Right?          Some of those stories will be as fictitious as
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This is going to be a very strange Thanksgiving. Let’s just start with accepting reality. No big dinners with friends & family at home and no big fancy dinners out. It’s just impossible This is the year of impossible loss and sadness. It’s also been a good time to reevaluate priorities, plan changes for the future, and be thankful for the people (and creatures) we all love.          I am truly thankful for my friends and family and most of all for the family I call friends and the friends I call family. The ties that bind are not all
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The stuff we surround ourselves with, the stuff we put into storage but can never give away, the stuff we treasure, and the stuff we try our best to shed… Stuff reveals a great deal about a character in both real life and fiction.          In the context of a mystery story, the stuff on the suspect’s desk may reveal the cool reserve required by the crime. His desk is orderly, clear of distractions and perhaps indicative of an obsessive disorder. My desk is a mess, so I guess I could be the killer in a crime of passion, but
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I was walking by the famous Flatiron building and noticed the strange movements in a man coming toward me in the distance. At first, I thought the slow, repetitive movement of his arm were a variation on “nodding.” (A movement familiar to anyone who lives in a city that has experienced a Heroin addiction crisis at one time or another.) Nodding is that slow, almost bowing motion that says the person is high and unsteady. You stay clear. It’s not pretty and it’s not safe. But as I grew closer to him, I observed that the motion was contained to
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Halloween on a Saturday night with a full moon in the middle of a worldwide pandemic… That’s pretty scary! And it’s not as if 2020 needed another dollop of chaos and fear. This year, there have been so many real-life nightmares. Wildfires, hurricanes, urban field hospitals, morgue trucks, panicked people washing the outside of take-out food containers and a shortage of peanut butter at Whole Foods… Need I say more? The idea of another 2020 frightens me. The Ground Hog day sense of days rolling together. The realization that this year will pass like a shadow over all our lives.
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I went back to the pottery studio! It’s a new, socially distant, disinfected, iteration of my pottery experience—no class full of interesting people, no singing along with someone else’s playlist, and no teacher to guide me and, most of all, remind me that I’m right-handed.          Am I? Am I really right-handed? Yes, and not exactly. I write with my right hand, but I may be closer to ambidextrous in other situations. Why is this relevant in pottery? The wheel goes counterclockwise for throwing pots. That is, if you are right-handed. You can switch the direction on some of the
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My fiction usually hinges on protagonists—not heroes. Yes, sometimes one of my leading characters will make choice that amounts to a heroic action, but that’s not exactly the same thing as being a hero. Heroes are heroic, if not all the time, then certainly more than once. It’s an ongoing process, a characteristic. It takes a series of heroic experiences to make a serious hero.          Right now, the world is focused on heroes—real heroes in medicine taking serious risks in order to provide care during a pandemic. Heroic essential workers—also taking risks to keep the subways running, the grocery
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It’s not only politics and it doesn’t have to be hostile. Arguing can be a great way to clarify your own opinions, and sometimes, even alter old ideas. I came from a family comfortable with arguments. We argued about Stephen Sondheim, Caravaggio, Francis Bacon, the Pre-Raphaelites, Phillip Roth, punctuation, brussels sprouts, Twitter, and more. There were some lively moments, but nobody got hurt!          Arguments in fiction—and reality—can inspire violence, revenge, and severe emotional, physical, and financial damage. Arguments in fiction are also all too often framed into “meet cute” scenarios where the protagonists argue as a way to flirt.
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I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to the peculiarities of transactional characters in both real life and fiction. First, I’ve had to acknowledge that, although I had never thought about this before, transactional characters have always existed. It’s the person asking, “What have you done for me lately?” without the implied joke. It’s another’s determination to avoid all charitable donations that don’t come with some kind of payback. They don’t really need that mug, but… Transactional characters also seek attention for their good works. They want the credit and they want it made in a public fashion, or
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If every picture tells a story, does the story it tells change? I think so. No, I know it’s so. Returning to art museums after months of closed doors brought me back to “old friends” seen with new eyes.          The last museum I visited before New York City locked down was the Museum of Modern Art. It was also the first one I visited during this strange transitionary period—with temperature checks, masks, timed tickets and limited admissions—that will eventually (I hope soon) yield to normal cultural life.          I ran directly to a show I had not seen in
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