Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. He is also an award-winning author with
Harper Collins. You can find Eddie on his Amazon author page or at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas (LPC).
Perhaps even wholly fabricated.
four or five at the time. My sister swears it happened, so it must have. My
sister is are always right¾even
when she’s wrong. That’s the first rule of diplomacy for little brothers.
lived in a home we called the Green House. When I say “Green House” I am
referring to the color of the home, not the name of the owner. It’s important
to make this distinction because there is
a branch of Greens growing out from the Jones family tree. There is also a
cluster of Gays mixed into the foliage, but the Greens and the Gays have
nothing to do with this story. I’m just pointing out the fact that home was
green, not owned by a Green Jones.
By neighborly I mean nosey. She often visited her neighbors, even when she’d
been warned to stay away. On this occasion, she marched us down to the
Governor’s Mansion. I forget why. Knowing Grandma Jones, it most likely had
something to do with canning tomatoes or picking up sticks. Grandma Jones would
often hire us out for the day to clean up from some stranger’s yard. This was
her way of getting us out of her hair while and teaching me to want more out of
life than hard, physical, manual labor. That summer I decided I wanted to
become President of the United States.
Governor’s Mansion,” my sister recalls, “and we sat on the back steps. The
maids brought us lemonade.”
did while Marji and I sipped lemonade. I suppose she advised the governor on
how he should run the state of North Carolina. Grandmamma Jones excelled at
giving advice. She had the spiritual gift of discernment. By this I means she
enjoyed discerning for others.
the front of the Governor’s Mansion. Around the same time JFK arrived in his
motorcade. He wasn’t president, yet, and so the parade of vehicles wasn’t
nearly as long as it would become later. Still, it was a big deal, so I stood
and watched as JFK worked his way down the rope line.
head,” my sister recalls, “turned and walked up the steps into the Governor’s
Mansion. Then you followed him. You got as far as the front foyer of the
mansion before Grandmamma Jones rushed in and pulled you back out.”
telling goes sometimes? You get the action started, characters introduced, and
hint at the main character’s motivation. (Little Eddie doesn’t want to really work. He wants to be in charge
and boss people around, like his grandmother.) Then there’s the inciting
incident: the event that alters the direction of your main character’s life.
incident occurred when Jackie and John Kennedy adopted me into their family and
shipped me off to the Kennedy Compound in Kennebunkport, Maine
didn’t happen. If it had, my trip to the Governor’s Mansion that day would have
been a huge deal and altered the direction of my life.
the “casual events” in our stories from “causal events.” “Causal events”
contribute to a character’s transformation. “Casual events” are simply props on
a set. A green house. A family of Greens and Gays. A grandmother who is nosey
and neighborly, but also leads the main character to his inciting incident.
novels pitched to me at writer’s conferences. Good writing, compelling
characters, vivid scene development. Then I ask, “What does your main character
want? What’s her inciting incident?” Often the answer is a blank stare.
story. Suppose we changed the name from Little Eddie to William Jefferson
Clinton and the location from Raleigh, NC to a small town in Arkansas. Can you
see how the incident might take on new meaning? Same anecdote only now, instead
of the grandmother pulling little Bill Clinton from the foyer he goes into the
governor’s mansion, sits near JFK, and decides he will become president.
Perhaps Jackie writes little Bill a note of encouragement. Now we have an
inciting incident and possibly, a story.
incident. Without all three, you only have an anecdote. And without your sister
along to recall the events, you might not even have that.