The art of double takes

Go ahead, look again.

I have a friend who can name a dozen species of marsupials, tell you how fast an ostrich runs on land, and describe a common diet of the bearded dragon.

I’m not an animal lover like that, but I have moments of fascination. A few years ago my wife and I were walking through a home decoration store when we spotted a portrait of a smiling sloth with a bright Polynesian flower crown on its head. We looked at each other, then at the sloth, then decided on the spot we must have. Why? I don’t know why. But we promptly bought it, hung it on the wall at home and named our new friend Egbert, the only name that fit his sweet smiling face.

However much I enjoy the oddness and idiosyncrasies of animals, the reason I write fiction is that my favorite animal remains my own kind. I like people. People fascinate me.

Fiction is the art of double takes and triple takes.

Sometimes I’m asked how I get ideas for a story. Often it starts with a glimpse. A detail that gets under my skin. Yesterday on a walk, for example, I saw a reclusive neighbor of mine outside who I haven’t seen outside in years. Probably 20 years, no kidding.

What happened to him in twenty years? No clue. What’s his name? No clue. But here he was, mowing his lawn: an old saggy man with his shirt off and his paunch belly hanging over the front of his jean shorts. He wore black velcro shoes and bright, christmas red socks. And my favorite detail of all, on top of his head was a sombrero, the kind you get at a Tex-Mex restaurant when it’s your birthday.

And as I walked past, I remembered the rose bushes planted at the back of his house that divided his yard from the basketball court at the adjoining park. And I remembered how when our shots missed we would have to go tumbling through the thorns to get our balls back. Now, twenty years hence, I began to wonder if he planted those rose bushes for that purpose, and if so, what kind of man would do that.

That’s how fiction happens.

As I turned the corner on my walk, a story was afoot. I was off to the races.