What’s mine is MINE.

I’ll get back to this in a sec. But first I have to show you the marvelous cloud that drifted into my backyard yesterday:

 I know! It’s Sistine Chapel-ready!

Back to the topic at hand.

On Monday I wrote about the creepiest celebrity experience I’ve ever had in my life, and someone calling herself “Terry” posted a comment blasting my audacity. (Does Telly Sevalas have a daughter named “Terry”?)

Mostly, Terry took issue with my right to writeabout Telly Sevalas. And then she took a few pot shots at Americans in general and one of the fine citizens of Texas (Janet) for being, well…we really can’t figure out what she had against Janet.

Well, “Terry” got me to thinking about the related, larger issue amongst us memoirists. Which is: who owns the stories we want to tell?

Well, Duh. Here’s the easy – to – follow rule about ownership of stories: if it happened to you, if you were there and can tell the story in the first person  / eye witness  you were there format then: it’s yours. YOU own it. No Matter What: it’s yours.

And of course, there will always be people who are eager to shut you down, take your story away from you.Very, very angry people, very conformist, strictly un-fun,  dead-inside, Stockholm-syndrome people who need a target on which to latch their own self-loathing and they will tell you that you have no right to tell that story (even people who don’t know you! see: “Terry” comments), that you are wrong or evil or not nice to tell that story or — when all else fails: you are being self-centered to tell that story. (Be on the look-out for all synonyms of self-centered: self-involved, selfish, self-important, self-indulgent…)

So what?  Let them rant and rave: they are as ants to us story-tellers with Bozo shoes. Nobody – least of allsomeone foaming at the mouth spewing guilt and accusations of un-lady-like behavior –nobody can take away your story. And if you must fight back ( although why even bother? ) try using  their own weapons:  call yourself self-aware, self-sustaining, self-assured, self-awesome!!

Here’s a picture of you, the (little yellow tabby cat) story teller, chasing away the big bad (black bear) nay-sayer:

And that’s a true story.

Has anybody tried to shut you down? How did you tell them to go suck eggs?

3 comments to What’s mine is MINE.

  • Deb

    “He was fairly happy, except that, like many people living in Europe, he would rather have been in America…” Hemmingway, The Sun Also Rises.

    America rocks, Vivian and so do you.

  • Deb

    Someday I’m going to write a memoir-satire about living in this dreadful place. As is, my thoughts and actions seem to be of such importance that I have strangers walking into my house demanding answers to what they want to know about my life. People come to visit and snoop in my drawers and closets. They rearrange furniture and let their kids pee on my silk rugs. And it doesn’t matter what I do. They are unshamable. So the book will be my quintessential ‘go suck eggs.’

  • Deborah

    I’m one of those people who knows exactly what to say to egg-suckers . . . a day or two after the fact. I’ve always envied women who can put naysayers in their place at the moment the naysaying occurs. I think maybe that’s one of the things I like about the TV show 30 Rock — Liz Lemon’s ability to tell virtually everyone to suck eggs.

    p.s. For some reason, I thought Terry was a male.

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