Ms. Marvel asked me an interesting question two days ago. She wanted to know if all my stories are true. She asked me that twice already. I guess she's starting to suspect something. That I maybe hiding some terrible secret about these addictions. So I told her time and again, that these are merely stories. No more and no less. I guess it's difficult when you are a writer yourself. You see so much more than what an average reader sees. You see patterns in every story. Pieces of the puzzle hidden from mundane conjunctures and sultry pronouns.
Herein lies my dilemna, should I continue to write and risk exposing these secrets or simply forget about these addictions? I suppose I should choose the latter knowing that life would be easier and less complicated. But I cannot resist the pen and try as I may, these demented souls reach out to me screaming until I have appeased them with their stories. So I write but I cannot divulge all their secrets. Superheroes never reveal their true identity. Batman can never tell the world he is Bruce Wane. It would be sacrilege. A betrayal if they do that. So I hide them with my white chocolate mocha and strawberry colored tarts.
I suppose I could have changed the title to Dr. Louell or something profound like stethoscopes or Medicine but I chose not. Precisely because I wanted to write something that encompasses medicine and healthcare. Something primal. Something dark, twisted and exciting. Something which makes you wonder. But I'm starting to slip. One of my amazing friend is beginning to discover the truth behind these addictions.
So I had to read my stories over and over again. Check every punctuation and every word. Make sure that I give out just enough to satisfy their longings and yet be honest to my subjects. Change the endings if I have to, make it sad, forlorn or even grand. Hide them. Hide them not because I might get sued but because they need their secrets to survive.
Hide them so that you may see yourself in each of these characters. Pretentious. Angry. Violent. But never boring.
In the end, these stories are simply that. Stories. Fantastic at times. Banal mostly. But nonetheless beautiful tales of human beings with an extraordinary ability to love and to cherish the world around them.