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When I'm free, however, I do find the time to draft short non-fiction pieces. I'm a huge fan of travel writing and watching a landscape come to life with just a few words. It's magic--the same magic which brought me into writing creatively. Even without traveling to my favorite city up north, I can at least describe it.
There's another purpose to being a fictional reporter. As a writer, I find myself constantly squabbling over how important it is to give a strong, detailed character illustrated by his or her actions. The mind can only see so much, so I have to put the character to work, just so everything becomes clear to the reader. In a recent, featured article in The Writer, Patrick Scalisi discusses how a writer can form stronger characters just by treating an exercise as if a professional, journalistic interview. It doesn't require the author to be a professional in journalism, as Scalisi argues, and it allows the writer to express any ideas while letting the character have his or her way.
Interested in non-fiction, I decided to give it a try with my latest character, Paul, a narcissistic cheater living two lives.. The interview piece is short, but I was able to see more so on the first layer of my character, Paul Greer, while understanding what he has to hide deep inside. Here's what came out:
The ferry roars into the docks and when
settled, its gates open to let out dripping tourists and locals, each
with cameras in their hands. Their ponchos glisten against the muted
background of San Francisco's bay, and I watch them peel the layers
away until they stand in jeans and sweaters.
One man stands in a polo-shirt and
pair of slacks. In his hand, he has a cell-phone and pair of bug-eyed
sunglasses.
Paul Greer works in Los Angeles as an
attorney and public speaker. For him, traveling up north is just
another day to add to his resume. We sit down on a bench in front of
the clock tower standing over Market Street, with sandwiches in our
hands, warm.
“My trips are usually centered on
wealthy businessmen, divorcing families, land owners.”
“Do you ever feel the drive's too
much?”
He smiles and I can see lettuce stuck
between his teeth. “It's worth it.”
For him, the cool winds overlap into
his burning world down south, where his family lives and works
without him. He brings them food, souvenirs, and portraits they
cannot get unless they spend the salary on traveling, something he
says is an arguable approach.
“My wife has a kid, and there's
another one on the way.”
“Does that upset you they'll be
growing up only seeing you half of the time?”
“We get used to it, and my son knows
a trip means toys, bread.” He takes another bite out of his
sandwich. “He's fond of those shaped bread loaves, from Boudin's.”
As we're talking, a group of students
rush to a halted street-car, the F-Line. The bell rings and the back
door opens. Passengers get out, and Paul watches. We wait for the
door to close and the tube of chrome to screech away.
“I never get used to this city. I
call it the city of love, and each drive up here is a new experience,
new dream.”
My sandwich begins to get cold as a
pelican waddles up, head turned and eyes watching me. “What does an
attorney dream of?”
He holds for a second when the bird
moves up, and his right foot lifts, scaring the pelican away.
“I've asked the same thing with the
Boogeyman, and I still haven't found an answer. I go where the money
is.”
“And is the money always in San
Francisco?”
He nods his head, bites the steaming
pastrami once more, and doesn't wait to speak. “Sometimes,” he
says. “Sometimes.”
John Brantingham is an author teaching in Southern California. His work can be found at johnbrantingham.blogspot.com.
The Writer is a monthly publication, which can be found online at Writermag.com.
"Character Profile," written by Patrick Scalisi, can be found here, http://www.writermag.com/2013/09/30/character-profile/
