THE JOY OF STORY
John M. Daniel’s Blog
February 20, 2016
Greetings,
writers and readers of stories! This week it’s my pleasure to introduce novelist
and short-story craftsman David Mohrmann. Dave and I belong to the same writing
group, The Great Intenders, and his contributions to critique sessions are
thought-provoking and insightful, sometimes surprisingly so. So it comes as no
surprise to me that his post this week is controversial and challenging. And I
won’t be surprised if some readers take issue with some of his views on the
purpose of storytelling. If that’s the case, I hope they’ll respond with
comments. I happen to agree with Dave that our lives are full of unsolved
mysteries, which give us a ready source for some of our best stories.
I’ll
say no more, and turn the spotlight onto our guest.
§§§
MYSTERIES FROM LIFE
TRANSFORMED BY FICTION
by David Mohrmann
What if a stranger comes to town…a mysterious
man who, rumor has it, possesses magical powers?
Sounds like a decent
plotline, unless it turns out that this character is so amazing that the reader
cannot in any way relate to him. Perhaps his story, while quite cleverly
written, is so fantastic that we poor readers cannot imagine it ever happening
in the real world?
In other words, if the
intention of a writer is merely to entertain…I, for one, will soon be bored.
“What if” plotlines often suffer from
that same base intention, as if the world were not already inundated with far
too much entertainment.
My opinion is that good
fiction is intent on only one thing: to uncover some unseen truth about life
that the author believes is worth telling. This is a difficult paradox to
explain, but I would like to spend my blog-spot trying.
For me, whenever a “What if” situation presents itself, the
essential question is always What for? I
certainly want to be entertained by the fiction I read, but there has to be
more than that. What worthwhile question is being asked, or reality exposed, by
the stories we write? I am not demanding that every bit of literature shake the
world to its core, but it should, I think, express those personal events, those
intimate stories, that shook each of us.
I doubt I am
the only one with certain memories that are oddly resilient and perhaps a bit
troubling. Why troubling? Because there was something about the experiences
they represent that we never quite understood. I would suggest that these
mysterious experiences somehow mark us. They dangle in our mind, sometimes like
unpicked fruit, sometimes like barbed hooks. Some we would like to forget…and
with enough time it must be possible.
As a writer, however, I
try my best not to let that happen. These were the people, events, feelings,
that affected me in ways I have not yet come to terms with. These are the
little mysteries of my life, and must be solved!
One story of mine, for
example, came from me wondering how I could possibly have allowed a man I did
not trust to put my daughter’s life in danger. Another story tries to make
sense of my unexpected affinity for a gypsy woman with her hand in my wallet.
These were things I did
not understand at the time. I had to write about them later, had to re-create
(that is, fictionalize) the scenes, the people, and the complex human dynamics at
play.
It is no
mystery that the mystery story has always been one of the most popular forms of
fiction. For me, traditional whodunit
stories never had much pull, probably because they have become such an
established genre, and therefore
often seem contrived. Besides, what’s the point of creating a convoluted plot
when everyday life, if well examined, is equally mysterious?
I fear that
“thrill-a-minute” stories make people regard their comparatively “simple lives”
as boring.
I am not trying to
dissuade mystery writers from doing their thing, but rather to encourage the
rest of us to recognize our own inherently interesting existence. Soon as you, whoever you are, begin to examine one of
your life’s mysteries, a story is ready to be written. It is called fiction
only because you must tell it through your personal perspective, your own sense
of what happened. You show the characters and what they do in your uniquely
particular way. It is your story, no one else’s.
And there is always at
least one worthwhile result of that effort. By identifying, and writing about,
the mysteries of our own lives, we better understand the mysterious lives of
others.
§§§
Xocomil: The Winds of
Atitlán,
David Mohrmann’s first novel, has just been published by
LastWord Books and is available from Amazon. The novel spans what most
historians term the Guatemalan Civil War (1960-1996). The story travels from
traditional Mayan villages through the war-torn mountains of Guatemala; from
cornfields in Kansas through the jungles of Vietnam; from pot-filled hills in
Northern California through the psychedelic haunts of San Francisco to the
ruins and magic mushrooms of Southern Mexico.
“Mohrmann takes us into the complex personal lives of two
young men—one Kaqchikel/Mayan, indigenous to Guatemala, the other a USA Vietnam
vet—whose lives intersect following Guatemala’s brutal civil war. The prose is
fierce, the characters intriguing and dimensional, creating an important and
timely window into the complex impact of a generation-long war.”
—Theresa May,
author of Salmon Is Everything
David Mohrmann began his artistic career as a painter, and has
had numerous exhibitions of his work. As a playwright, he produced ten
plays, and taught for fifteen years in the theater department at Humboldt State
University, where he specialized in “Theater of the Oppressed.”
After retiring in 2005, he began writing short stories, and has had
five of the thirty published. His first novel, Xocomil, is informed by many
travels throughout Guatemala, beginning in the 1970s.
He is now living in Arcata, California--with frequent trips to
Guatemala--and working on a collection of his short stories.
§§§
Call for submissions: Your 99-Word Stories
The deadline for next month’s 99-word
story submissions is March 1. The stories will appear on my blog post for March
12 and the week following.
note: this 99-word story feature is a game, not a contest.
Obey the rules and I’ll include your story. I may edit the story to make it
stronger, and it’s understood that you will submit to my editing willingly.
That’s an unwritten rule.
Rules
for the 99-word story feature are as follows:
1. Your story must be 99 words long, exactly.
2. One story per writer, per month.
3. The story must be a story. That means it needs plot
(something or somebody has to change), characters, and conflict.
4. The story must be inspired by the prompt I assign.
5. The deadline: the first of the month. Stories will appear on
this blog the second Saturday of the month.
6. I will copy edit the story. The author of the story retains
all rights.
7. Email me your story (in
the body of your email, or as a Word attachment) to: jmd@danielpublishing.com
THIS MONTH’S PROMPT FOR NEXT MONTH’S 99-WORD STORY:
The title of
this illustration is “It Hit Me Like a Tornado.” Write a 99-word story inspired
by the illustration or the title, but don’t make it about the weather.
§§§
Thank
you, as always, for stopping by. I hope you’ll be back next week. Meanwhile, I hope you'll find
pleasure in reading and writing, and celebrate the joy of story.
You've served up some food for thought, David. I'll be dining on it for quite a while.
ReplyDeleteWell put, Earl. Lots to think about.
DeleteThank you. I began writing to solve the mystery of my past. Stay tuned.
ReplyDeleteRight, Pat. Flannery O'Connor is said to have said something like: "Anyone who has survived childhood has enough material to write about the rest of his life."
DeleteGreat post, David and John. A lot to think about, which we writers certainly spend time -- years -- thinking about, figuring out all those mysteries of our lives.
ReplyDelete