That's why it's called "fiction. . ."

. . . because it's not real; it's pretend; it's a story.

It seems that my short story on the Empire State Building jumper triggered an unusual response in one of the few people who read this blog. Someone who didn't know me thought that maybe. . .just maybe . . .I would do something . . .like what? Like take an overdose of my Hyzaar and pee myself to death. I'm sorry to be such a smart alec about this but that gentleman jumped to a huge conclusion. I am a writer. I write nonfiction and fiction. To write fiction I like to get "inside" the character, try to feel what that character is feeling - it makes the story more real. The fact that I wondered what a person getting ready to jump off the Empire State building would be thinking - that very fact should lead one to know that I have no clue about what would lead someone to suicide. It was the writer's "what if . . ." that lead me to the story - the jumper's story. And as I said earlier, I wanted to memorialize him in some way.

The first time I saw Rich in his casket, I had the weird idea that I should be in it with him - he was so cold, I should hold him to keep him warm. That feeling lasted for thirty seconds and years later became my homage to Poe, "Forever" - a Victorian gothic.

Remember:
It's fiction - I write to explore emotions and arenas that I may never experience.
It's fiction. Honest!

But (blowing my own horn here) it must have been damn good for him to think that I needed help!

<> The only help I need is convincing a publisher that I'm really that good.

Honest!