For My Strangers

 "I write for myself and strangers," said Gertrude Stein, and she's right that she is not writing for friends. Because friends already know us a certain way; some know more than others, and we are not trying to reach them with our writing. In some unexplainable way, perhaps, we are trying to reach ourselves.

In another way, perhaps, strangers are our friends too. They are the people we talk to when writing; imaginary friends who will always understand. When I write my Beat Street books, or plays, or anything else, I am in fact writing to people I can see clearly in my mind's eye; and I know exactly what they look like when I'm talking to them.

For Beat Street books, my goal is to set the the narrator (Ruby) right next to you, chatting away as you walk thought the streets of Greenwich Village in 1958. You are the invisible but essential stranger she's never known, living in the present, but looking in on her and rooting for her to win. 

In the book I'm working on now, I also want to walk down the street with you and if we find a nice café, steer you inside for coffee or wine.  As a reader, you are supporting me in a way that a friend can't, just by taking the time to open my book or sit through my play. I'm reaching out in the dark to see if you'll take my hand, and when you do, it's worth the journey--even if you disagree with what I'm saying.

The only thing I don't get is what you're thinking--and I don't mean reviewing the book, necessarily, though reviews can shed light on what I'm putting out there. What I'd love to know more about is YOU. 

When I read something that resonates, or knocks me out, or makes me stop reading just to react to what I just read, the moment kind of transcends itself. It takes me out of time into something deeper that compels me to look at my own life, and see where it connects to what I'm reading about. 

So. Strangers, but not. I like having you in my life and I'd love to know you better. But not too much, because then we wouldn't be the kind of readers and writers we are to each other.

Anyway, thank you for being my strangers and listening to me rattle on here. Happy reading! And writing, too.

Girl with secret: Katie Tegtmeyer