Most would-be-authors are under the impression that their life's struggles deserve a book deal. Would people really be interested to read about their life? I would think not. Experiences in hard living are not sufficient to guarantee attention, and memoirs are difficult to market and sell, unless you are a "celebrity."
I also fell for the memoir idea, "I surely have interesting material that people would like to read, right? That is when it hit me. Who truly cares to read my story? I concluded and opted to write a story that included fictionalized experiences and characters of my life instead of a memoir.
The thought of inserting life portions into a book was more alluring than giving a potentially dry account of my life history to people. "I will involve almost everyone I know!" (not really, but saying it made people feel good.)
Anyways, my fiction project is titled, "Clinging To Deceit," and is about two Middle Eastern families that propose and plan the arranged marriage of their children, but the concept of happiness and the acquisition of a hefty dowry drives one family to deceit, violence, and murder.
How could someone, originally from and raised in Lima, Peru, write about arranged marriages? Well, it almost happened to me. I was five years old when my parents, and future godparents, agreed on something dubious.
I found out what this was as a sixteen year old girl in a conversation I was having with my mom, after returning home from spending the summer with my godparents and their son.
Mom: "Did you enjoy the time spent at your godmother's home in La Planicie?"
Me: "Absolutely! They have an enormous house with maids and a pool in the best neighborhood in La Molina."
Mom: "Did you like their son, Jose Antonio?"
Me: "Oh yeah, he's fun, but very shy."
Mom: "Do you want to date him?"
That was, what I like to call, "their machiavellic plan". Mom had more questions that frankly started to irritate my young girl sensibility. She was in fact, drilling me about what I did that summer, and curious about what had happened to me at their home. I got weary of being interrogated and she finally confessed. "You were five when your godparents and us discussed a possible future for you and that boy." I was in total shock. She could have pinched me and I would have not felt it.
Me: "This was planned eleven years ago?" I screamed, "There is no way I am dating their son, I don't even like him that way." Ending a bizarre story I never told anyone because I thought it was too weird...
For next Saturday's post please go to: "CLINGING TO DECEIT"
"Creating Fiction from an Incredible Life Experience."