A social group I belong asked a while back if I’d offer a few tips about writing an autobiography. Who me? I’m more into making things up in fiction. Couldn’t think of a worse candidate for the job.
I have an elderly relative who loves to tell stories of his youthful escapades, over and over and over, infinitum. He’s not a bad story teller, and it isn’t the repetition that gets me. It’s an overwhelming fear that I will end up doing the same thing when I reach the golden years (or is it platinum, now that we’re all supposed to live thirty years on average after retirement?). Oh, and his epilogue after each tale, where he insists his life would make a great story. “I should write it”, he’d say. “My autobiography would make a great book.”
Cue in scene: Honey, it’s getting late.