> The only way any of it makes any sense is if "I own what I
> live." This
> means, of course, that those writers who know me have every right to
> write their own versions of the events, even if I come out stinking,
> right? If I own what I live, then others own those parts of
> the living
> that crossed their paths. How would the shoe feel on the other foot?
>
> Eek.

Actually -- can't remember if I've ever told this tale here ... but
when I was 19, I found out how the shoe felt.

I'd just quit university and run away to Montreal to sort out my life.
I was working at a dry cleaner, steaming shirts on the lady.

I got to know a Montreal native, and his sister came to town from back
west for a visit. She was my age, but he was 10 years my senior or
thereabouts. Nicest guy one could ever know. Anyway...

One day, I visited his apartment, and his visiting sister was off
swimming. I went into his living room while he changed into some bar
hopping clothes, and I noticed an open book on the living room table.
It was his sisters diary.

Now, I don't know if Robby Burns ever snooped into someone's diary
before he wrote "To a Louse," but ... seeing ourselves as OTHERS see
us can be a real eye opener.

The guy's sister had written more than one page expounding on what a
JERK I was. Now, these were her private thoughts, and I'm fairly
certain she didn't know I was coming over to meet her brother (and
thus left the diary for me to find), because it was an unannounced
visit.

Now, if I were to believe what she had to say about me -- I was some
kind of asshole. I was inconsiderate, loud mouthed, egotistical, ate
too much (I was 25 or so pounds underweight, and lived off 20
bucks/week for food, so maybe I did eat to much, eh?)

It happened another time, much later in life when someone wrote a
friend what was intended to be a personal email about me, but
accidentally (and yes, it was an accident, I'm sure -- not a hint)
sent it to me, instead of that friend. Every form of nastiness I could
imagine spewed forth, in living color. Man I can be a jerk sometimes!

Has this ever happened to anyone else here?

Isn't writing people we've known into our fiction a bit like this,
except by publishing, we're posting it on a wall? Do we own the right
to do that?

--
Quinn Tyler Jackso


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