Deathbed? Not this time.

My work is often described as spare and underwritten.  Sometimes I’m tempted to add lush descriptive passages, really paint a picture, but that does not appear to be my style.  When I overhear a tasty bit on the bus, I don’t need detailed description.  Images flash and crazy tangents spring off in all directions, lush description included with no extra effort.  I assume the same process happens with my readers.  A few years ago, as I passed a couple of women on a hiking trail, I caught three words:  “One point six.” If you live in Vancouver, you already know they were talking about real estate because that’s all Vancouverites talk about.  Was that the buyer or the seller?  Was that the asking or selling price?  Was that a lottery win or a disappointment?  Many questions remain, but there’s a story in those three words, enough to trigger what was always there, waiting to be remembered.

Greed, grief, envy, love, and family.  There’s no shortage of any of those things when a parent dies.  When my mother died, there was no money to fight over, only debt, but we still fought.  I can’t imagine (or maybe I can?) how nasty it gets when it’s a couple mil at stake.  This story came out of a fragment, a brief description of something that happened to a friend of a friend.  I don’t know dates, places, or players, but it had to be written.  I want you to believe it.  I want you to want it to be true.  If either of those things happen, I’ll call it a success.

Bella provides guidelines for hospital visitors in this video clip from “How Beautiful, How Moving.”