Chapter 31
A few quick thoughts before I finish my story on the mysterious Mall man.
As I said in the News section, I did a reading at CJ’s Café in Elmira . It was a nice sized crowd. Most were there for the event. Others politely stayed and listened. I had never done a reading before so I gave some background and read from a couple passages. When I took a break, a man came over and said, “I really enjoyed that. You read well and got me interested. I’ll take a book.” I noticed a woman to my right who had a copy of TPS and appeared to be looking for a page or a passage. She came over and almost shyly said, “I’d like you to sign this if it’s okay.” My standard response is that I’m honored, and I mean that. She continued. “I’d also like you to write some comments on this passage. I had never had a request like this. It took me totally by surprise. I read it and nodded. I thought about it. This was an important passage and I didn’t want to . . . I wanted to get the answer as right as possible. The passage was Mendel’s Arizona experience. Next week I’ll give you the lines she pointed to and my response. A woman in an easy chair was curled up reading the last 20 pages of the book. I introduced myself and we talked. “I find myself reading and asking myself, are these characters real? And I remind myself it’s fiction. I can’t put it down.” She referred to a scene with Beasely and Poul. “I just wanted to cry. I mean, what Poul did for Beasely, it showed you how deep their friendship was. It was really touching.” As we talked, her comments felt familiar and I knew my answers before I verbalized them. It was a case of rock-solid Déjà vu. I’d lived this moment before. I met Joseph, who bought two books. I sold him one of the first editions which contain all the typos and told him the story about them. He’s a writer, too, so I told him if he has any suggestions for the book, to let me know because I want to get readers’ ideas and possibly incorporate suggestions. He shook his head. “You shouldn’t do that. This is your work in your voice and you should let it stand. You worked a long time on it and you know what you wanted.” It stopped me. I nodded. “Good point.” As I got ready to go, a woman came in and sat down. Funny how things work at different levels. The way she looked at me. I started to go over and ask her if she was here for the reading when she stood up and came over. “You’re Dennis Miller. You wrote the book The Perfect Song.” I said yes. “I came to buy the book. I didn’t realize that you would actually be here or I would have come earlier to hear you. I read the Star Gazette article and I’m intrigued by the novel.” I had sold out of books so I ran out and got another. We talked for a half hour. We talked easily, as if we’d known each all our lives, or maybe in another lifetime. We joked about it becoming a best seller and I told her no dream is too big, and that I fully plan on it being made into a movie so it can be shared with millions of people. “I live in Charlottesville and if there’s any way I can be of help to make that happen, I would be happy to. There are a lot of producers and a lot of films being made down there.” I thanked her. My head was full from reading, meeting people, talking and signing books. The implications of what she said didn’t strike me until hours later. All things happen for a reason. Those we meet we meet for a reason. . . . I asked her to email me and give me her thoughts on the book when she read it and told her I plan on incorporating readers’ suggestion. Her smile vanished and she looked troubled. She slowly gathered her thoughts. “I don’t think you should do that,” she said. “You shouldn’t do that. You spent 25 years on this. That tells me you believe passionately in it and you waited until you had it the way you want it. I don’t think you should make changes.” I spluttered something incoherent and nodded. “Okay. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Thank you.” The message from two people in a 30-minute time span came through loud and clear. But Theresa’s response, which was delivered in a quiet, polite, unwavering conviction, made me realize what a foolish thing it would be to play with a work that I’d labored on so long and believe in so much. Thank you, Theresa, and Joseph. Each day we learn, and that means we’re alive.
Last week I wrote about a mysterious man who walked around the Mall and stopped at each store, staring in the display window at us. He stopped at every shop and looked in. We laughed because he was so different and so. . .unsettling. After three weeks of his strange habit, we found out what he was up to. After weeks of doing this before we opened, one morning he came in exactly 10 minutes later, one minute after we opened. He stopped and stared into the store. Then he went on to the barbershop next door and stared at Bob, the big burly bearded barber. Then he stopped at the clothing store where the drug dealing kid had been busted. When he arrived at the bank at exactly 10:06 he walked all the way in. He walked up to a teller made the rounds, he did it again. And at exactly at 10:02 a.m. , he walked into the bank, put a gun in the teller’s face and took all her money. Then he ran. So this guy who we’d been laughing at, knew what he was doing all along. He’d been casing the place! He knew exactly where everyone was, exactly what time the doors opened and the perfect time to rob a bank! He was caught two miles down the road trying to hitch a ride. Obviously, he’d planned the robbery in detail up to a point. He forgot about the escape. Next week: my discovery of who the three main characters in The Perfect Song are.
(Commercial: If you haven't bought The Perfect Song yet, I do have PayPal. Go to the store and check it out. All profits from the book will be used to create a scholarship for future writers).
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