Do
You Believe Peter Pan Can Fly?
Hello, readers, Loretta Rogers coming at you live on
a dark and stormy day. As I’m writing this, thunder is vibrating the house.
I’ve taken precautions and unplugged my laptop to avoid getting zapped by
lightning. However, it’s not the weather I’d like to discuss rather it’s a
writing term called, “suspending disbelief.”
Suspending disbelief is temporarily allowing oneself to believe something that isn't
true, especially in order to enjoy a work of fiction.
An example would be, knowing that Superman cannot, in reality, fly –
and then pretending that you don't know he can’t. The storyteller tells the
audience that, in this story, a man can fly. The audience suspends its
disbelief and goes along with that premise.
In
other examples, such as in the fantasy Lord of the Rings,
we set aside the reality that such magical creatures do not exist so we can
enjoy the movie while munching on popcorn. Let’s not forget the wonderful
Disney characters that we’ve come to cherish such as Mickey and Minnie Mouse,
Donald Duck, Goofy, and Bambi. We know these characters can’t, in reality,
talk, but for the sake of enjoyment, we willingly set aside this fact for a
couple of hours of entertainment.
What does all of this have to do with my post? Recently, I tuned in to a FB
conversation where readers were vehemently complaining that authors, and yes,
they lumped all authors together, needed to fire their editors, hire
professional editors, or perhaps stop writing altogether because they (the
authors) needed lessons in writing. The complaint stemmed from the fact that
readers were frustrated because in certain novels heroines could cook dinner,
feed the kids, get them to bed, then dress for a party, and get it all done in
twenty minutes. One reader went on to say that these type heroines made her
feel inadequate as a woman, and a failure as a mother. WOW! So sad.
Some of the reader’s
comments were much harsher than what I’ve shared. But, as an author, the
comments did make me think twice about whether or not I am making sure that the
setups in my novels are relatable; because as Samuel Tylor Coleridge said, “The
key to making someone believe the unbelievable is to include human interest and
a semblance of truth.”
I hope you enjoy this
excerpt from FATAL PASSION, book #1 of my new Doc Holliday Mystery series. I’d
really appreciate if it you would answer the question at the end of this
passage.
Grandmother
sighed when she tossed the remaining three donuts in the trash. “If I were a
betting person, I’d put my money on Beverly Rakestraw, and she had good cause.
Apparently, Forest couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped. Still infidelity is
never a justifiable reason for murder.”
I
handed dad copies of the file. He cautioned me to stay alert, and I promised. I
wrapped my arms around grandmother and whispered, “I’m sorry for making your
angry.”
She
kissed me on the cheek. “It’s the situation that made me angry. Not you.” She hesitated. “I’d almost forgotten. There’s
another name to add.”
Dad
and I each gave grandmother an incredulous look. Together we said, “Who?”
Dad
quirked his mouth to one side. “Is this more gossip?”
“Not
exactly.” Grandmother’s voice was hushed as if the walls were listening. “I
went to church to do my weekly confession, and before I went inside the
confessional, I heard someone sobbing. It was Luanne. I must have caught her at
a really weak moment because you know what a sour puss she is.” Grandmother
heaved a dejected sigh. “I asked if I could be of comfort and that’s when she
told me about her and Forest.”
I
nearly choked. “Luanne Sterns…the priest’s sister…that Luanne?”
Grandmother
nodded. “Luanne said in a weak moment she allowed Forest to visit her on more
than one occasion, and sometimes they’d have a secret rendezvous at a secret
location.”
“Grandmother,
she isn’t even remotely attractive. What would entice Forest to sleep with
her?”
“Only
he knows that and he’s dead. Anyhow, apparently Forest said all the right
things about loving her and them having a future together, and made a bunch of
false promises, all to get inside her bloomers, and then he laughed at her,
called her ugly, and said he bedded her because she was always mooning over him
and he felt sorry for her. She needed to confess her sins but couldn’t at least
not to her brother. So, in a moment of desperation, I became the
substitute.” Tanti glanced around.
“Here’s the thing, after spilling her beans, Luanne got bull stompin’ mad and
the things she threatened to do to Forest, well, let’s just say, were pretty
drastic. Of course, I didn’t take any of it seriously. She was a woman scorned
and blowing off steam.”
There you have it dear readers, did I set up the scene so that I suspended disbelief to your satisfaction? Under the circumstances, would Luanne, or any woman, confess her sins to someone she barely knew, other than her priest, especially if she were overly distraught?
Thanks for dropping by. I’d love to hear your comments.
Loretta C. Rogers, Pen
Dames
By the way, grab your
copy of FATAL PASSION, available in print or Ebook at Amazon.com in the US and
UK, as well as other online stores.
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