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Liar, Liar! Pants on Fire!

Another Definition of Fiction

I belong to Rotary and if you’re not familiar with them, you should look into it, but that’s not the point of this blog.  But it sorta is.  In Rotary we have what is known as the Four Way Test of the things we think, say and do. The first of which asks the question: Is it the Truth?  Therein lies the dilemma for me.

I write fiction and by its very definition it is not true, so I violate that rule every time I sit down at my computer to work on a book or a screenplay.   I was written up on critiques at a writer’s conference, actually I’ve been written up several times, but I want to talk about one in specific.  The person said I called her a liar and she was highly offended.  She wanted her money back, wanted me fired, never invited back, wanted them to take away my birthday and erase me from the face of the earth or words to that effect.

What I said that got her all fired up was that if you looked in the dictionary (and I never have…I just assume and we all know what that is) under the word “Fiction” one of the definitions would be “untrue.”  I went on to explain that as children we had all probably experienced that time when our mother or father sat us down and asked if what we told them about that broken whatever was true.  They knew it wasn’t and so did we, but we insisted that it was.  Mom or Dad then went on to explain that we had told something that was not true and that means we told a lie, which in our understanding made us Liars!

That was my point.  We write fiction.  We create things that are not true.  We have characters tell things that are not true.  We are liars.  I think the lady failed to see the connection or the humor in what I was trying, unsuccessfully in her case, to explain.

I have a screenplay about German POW’s who were kept in the United States during WWII.  In my story they escape during a hurricane, wreak havoc on an oil refinery, mostly get killed or re-captured by the FBI and there is a double agent in the group.  A producer was interested in the script and asked me, “Is the story true?”  Going back to my Rotary meetings I had to say:

“Well, World War Two is true and there were German Prisoners of War here in the United States.  Some did escape and were recaptured by the military and the FBI.  Hurricanes are real.  Just ask the people in Florida and Louisiana.  The FBI uses double agents. There are oil refineries in the United States.  And uh…uh…well, uh…you see..I…I confess.  I’m a liar. I made the rest of it up.  It’s not true.  I won’t do it any more…and…”  That’s when he stopped me and said, “I like it.  Let’s talk.”

We talked and we’re still talking about the project but that’s the way it goes in this business. Did I lie to him? Sorta.  Did he like it?  Sorta.  Are all fiction writers liars?  You figure that one out.  In the meantime, I’m going to try to get Rotary to change the test to: Is it the Truth? If it’s not it should be.

MEET N GREET!

MEET N GREET!

Paul Sinor Will be Signing Books from 4pm - 8pm on Saturday July 21st Come by, visit, grin and grip and liberate the neighbors sweets!

Between Friends Cafe and Coffee Shop

1080 GA Highway 96 Set. 100

Warner Robins, GA 31088

http://betweenfriendscoffee.com

I’m Here to Help You.

You answer the phone and a person with an accent you know is not from Texas or Alabama or even Boston, tells you his name is Fred and he is ready to assist you with a major problem you are having with your computer.  If you’re like me, you didn’t know your computer had a problem.  You can live with the fact that it sometimes doesn’t know how to spell, or can’t figure out what you are trying to say and there was that time it sent a message about you know what to you know who by mistake. Oh, well if they let a little thing like that upset them to the point they never speak to you again and un-friend you from all their sites, it’s their loss.  But I digress.
Fred says it’s come to their attention that the framistat in your computer is not running to full speed. You have no idea what a framistat is, so you listen.  Mistake number one.  He says if you will just give him the password to your computer he can re-thrum the framistat and make it work with the throckinwhistle.  Huh?  It’s computer language and the best you can do is “alt, control, delete,” so you take a chance and give him the password.  Mistake number two.

By the time you get to mistake number five, he’s got your SSN, the password and account number for your checking account, the birthday of your grandmother and the name of the person you had the hots for in junior high.  The next morning when you go to The Royal Tea Pot to get your daily fix, all four of your credit and debit cards have a message on the screen to confiscate the card, place you under citizen’s arrest and only sell you bread and water so you can get used to it.

Now for a true story. I know you were waiting for this. I kept getting a call from a gentleman from the Indian sub-continent named Richard several months ago.  His story was he worked for Microsoft and they had detected a virus in my computer.  I immediately hung up.  Two weeks later, he graced me with yet another call.  This time I listened a little longer. All I had to do was allow his to remotely access my computer and he could cure it from the virus, constipation, ingrown toenails, acne, several STD’s and baldness.  I asked for his number so I could call him back, because I was in the middle of painting my toenails and this time he hung up on me.
And then….one dark and stormy night he called again.  This time I told him how happy I was to get is call.  I told him I realized he did not know who or where he was calling, but this was his lucky night.  “Why is that?” he asked in his delightful accent.  Because you have reached the county sheriff’s office and we have been having terrible problems with our computers.  Before he could stammer an excuse, I told him to hang on because I was going to connect him with the Sheriff and he could tell him how to fix all of our computers.

Richard is no longer my phone buddy and my computer still doesn’t know how to spell without help.

Willie has a bus, I have a Toyota

I’m sure it’s the same with young girls as it is with boys.  We dreamed about being baseball or other sports stars or rock and roll singers, both with thousands of adoring fans clamoring for autographs.  We even practiced signing our names or we made up names we wanted to use.  It’s no different if we are writers.

I am fortunate in that I occasionally get invited to do a book signing at a book store, library or some other venue.  I don’t take it lightly and I prepare for it the best way I know how.  It’s an appearance and I have to treat it like I would if I was Willie Nelson.

Willie is one of my hero’s, not only because he’s eighty-five years old, drinks like a fish, smokes an occasional doobie, plays golf, been married several times and hangs out with Woody Harrelson in Hawaii, but because he still does all of those things and he’s still alive.  That’s a goal we could all shoot for. Except the part about being married several times. Once is enough.

When Willie hits the road, he has people who load his bus with all of his life support systems. His tequila, his smokes, his pills, lotions, braces and supports, hair products, hats, head bands and another case of tequila…just in case.  Oh, and he has his band or his family load on board as well.  If you’ve ever been to a Willie Nelson concert, you know what I mean by all this.  I’ve been to several and I remember one in particular in Maryland.  It was outdoors and I thought the fog had rolled in.  You could say you were just like Bill Clinton. I didn’t inhale, I just breathed as I floated to the stage.

Now that we’ve got Willie on the road, what about me?  Glad you asked.  I don’t have a bus, I’m not yet eighty-five, I can’t afford a case of tequila, stopped smoking years ago, don’t need hair products or head bands. What I do have is a Toyota.  Actually, I have three of them.  A Tacoma pick-up, a Solara convertible and a      . What was that?  You didn’t hear me.  I said….a…..Prius.   I know. But I get fifty miles to the gallon.

Okay, I head for the book signing.  I take books unless the book store orders them ahead of time.  I have a large banner I put behind the table where they put me.  I have business cards, some handouts on all my books and a nice pen to sign with.  I also carry some index cards so people who want it signed can write the name or what they want it to say.  I’ve made mistakes in the past and if you want it signed to Betty and I hear Eddie, I just lost a sale and a book.

One of the best things about book signings is that there are usually several of us at the venue at the same time and most writers have a little dish or box on their table with candy in it.  The last time my table mate had some Belgium chocolates and I made a fool of myself sneaking them out of the bowl.

So…bottom line. Willie prepares for his appearances and so do I, albeit on a much smaller scale. Next time you see that I’m doing a book signing, stop by and we can see what kind of candy the others are giving away.