Telling Stories

I do not understand this world at all. One of my friends is in what I view as a horrible situation, faced with poverty unless she does something that will eventually create even more hardship and difficulty, especially for her children. It is complex and complicated and I do not wish to discuss it here, just want to acknowledge it and to wish my friend well, hope she finds a way to "fix" the situation and live in relative comfort with the outcome. Enough on that subject.

I have enjoyed reading true crime stories for many years now and thus when I discovered that Steve Salerno had not only written one but one that took place right here in Texas (crime central), I checked to see whether the book is available in the library where I typically check out such books. Sure enough, they had Deadly Blessing and I brought it home this past Saturday. It's good, real good. And the family dramas that unfold on those pages are ones painfully familiar to me; they remind me of many situations in my own life, like power struggles and influence garnering.

One of the reasons I love crime stories is because they help me put my own life story in perspective. Another reason is they help me see how stories told are not just about the characters that "people" the stories but also about the storyteller. This goes for fictional stories, too. Maybe especially fictional stories, because sometimes the best way to tell one's own story is by projecting emotions and thoughts onto made-up people. This way, we don't slander anybody but at the same time we get whatever point we need made across.