excerpted from

A Memoir of Submission

a novel

by

Stillson Graham

Before I get into anything too clever, far too clever, for my fellow literary heroes (you know who you are), I should mention that I am not a real person. I am a fiction, created by another writer whose name I will not at this time mention, but that you can probably guess.

At one time or another, we are all fictional characters in someone else’s drama; we play our roles to the best of our abilities, but the truth is we have no script, no depth of characterization, and often are left out of the plot line altogether. Many people think I give a shit about their lives. These same people are not only incorrect, but so completely mistaken that had they been informed of the real story, they would not have believed it. That is the extent of their narrative. They are so sure they know who I am and what I think of them that they cannot accept any alternate hypotheses.

I offer no proof of this, no anecdotal studies. You will just have to believe me, because you are a player in my drama.

You are the fulcrum of the story: its plot, its character, and its morality. You are the reason that this story exists. In my world, you are You. That most distasteful of post-modern constructions: the reader. Alas, you are a necessary evil. Even the least fictional of us needs to be acknowledged in order to be real.

As you may have surmised, I have some kind of psychological need to be heard. Not because I have been bad-mouthed by the newspapers or any other broadcast media that might be available as you read this; not because I have been denigrated by my friends and colleagues; not because I have scandalized a small town, the town where I and generations of my family have grown up and lived. No, I have a need to be heard because that’s just the way it is. Some of us are readers and some of us are writers.

I will now use an anecdote to not only prove my point, but bring up new ones as well, each with its own nuance and allusion.

One of my friends raises beagles. Beagles are, like other types of dogs, pack animals, and therefore have a pack mentality. This isn’t the same kind of social group as, say, sardines or hornbills, where every member is equal. With beagles, every member has a role. There are degrees of dominance in a beagle pack ranging from supreme leader to straggler. That is, there is a hierarchy. Some are dominant and some are submissive. The submissive ones can’t be forced to be aggressive and the dominant ones can’t be forced to be easygoing. That’s just the way it is.

So it is with people.

Don’t believe any management school philosophy who says they can make anyone into a leader. Leaders are born. The truth is, they can only make you into a manager, not a leader. And though the two are not mutually exclusive, they are at least tangential if viewed as a Venn diagram.

So while I expect you to be annoyed with me by the time you finish this story, and angry that some punk kid has just wasted a few days of your time, I also expect that you will take me into your life as I have taken You into mine.