“For what else
is the life of man but a kind of play in which men in various
costumes perform until the director motions them offstage?”
– Erasmus, The Praise of Folly, 1511
There
are no original thoughts, it seems. But it feels original when we
think of things ourselves; and while Eramus may have first put to
paper the concept of the world being a stage, Shakespeare did sort of
pick up the idea and run with it. Regardless of who gets credit, I
think about the concept from time to time.
Shakespeare
started his “all the world's a stage” declaring we are “merely
players” making exits and entrances. He then goes on to explain the
seven roles a man plays throughout a lifetime. It's very famous, and
if you've never read it, you should. Those seven are: the infant, the
school boy, the lover, the soldier, the justice, the old man and the
second child. Let's just say that I'm more than half-way through that
list. But that's not what bothers me.
I
agree that the world is a stage and we all play our parts, it's just
that neither Erasmus nor Shakespeare say anything about all the roles
we play at the same time. I feel sometimes that I'm in a repertory
company. I'm a father, a husband, an employee, a boss, a friend, a
son, a writer, an editor, a journalist and a man to name a few. These
roles come together a lot, but many times I need to keep them
separate.
For
instance, a joke I make around the house is to complain that I'm an
award-winning newspaper editor and well-respected within the
community; but I get no such respect at home – I still have to
clean the toilets, take out the garbage and my two sons are experts
and the “teen eye roll” as if to indicate I'm a complete idiot.
Robin, my wife, and Connor, my 16-year-old son, enjoy whispering,
pointing at me and laughing. I usually have no idea what it is about
me they find humorous, but it's not very respectful.
I'm
fortunate to have chosen a wife who does respect and love me, but
will not put up with any hubris. She keeps me humble, and the kids
follow her lead. Outsiders may not understand that dynamic, but I
encourage it – I don't mind being silly and I want my boys to
understand that there is nothing wrong with laughter, and being able
to laugh at yourself is the best way to deflect the sting of an
insult. It's my role at home and at the core, the closest to the me I
see in the mirror.
At
the office, I'm a manager. I admit that I've never been reluctant to
be a manager, it's always something I thought I would do well. It's
not always enjoyable, there are daily decisions that must be made,
you have to be able to lead people toward the same goal. Worst of
all, you sometimes have to be an asshole. It's a role, and it has to
be played.
Another
role I've picked up lately is of “author.” That's the most public
and, honestly, the one I enjoy the most. I want people to read what I
write; and more importantly, it's cooler when I get money to do so.
To that end, I maintain a somewhat public persona. I don't swear like
I normally do, I don't get caught up in political or religious
arguments on social media or in person. With every person who
encounters me being a potential customer, why would I antagonize half
of them? I know some writers who have no qualms about that, and that
is fine. It's just not an image I want to portray.
Anyone
who's read any of my fiction will come away with a general positive
impression. That's a conscious effort, not because I don't appreciate
the dark side of things. It's because there are plenty of people out
there who do the dark stuff much better than I ever could. I like to
think that what I bring to the table is a sly chuckle and maybe a
tear of recognition. There's room, and an audience, for what I do. At
least I hope there is; and if there isn't, I'm fine with that.
This
may seem to imply that I don't have political or religious rants
stored up in my brain, or a past that has been checkered with acts
that I'm not necessarily proud of, nor am I ashamed. I am who I am,
I've done what I've done and that's that. That doesn't mean I need to
broadcast it to the whole world. (Ah, you say, but doesn't a writer
write about what he knows, and isn't some of those characters and
situations you write about at least a little bit autobiographical?
The answer is a simple “yes,” but more times than not, the answer
is “no.” I do like to make stuff up.)
So
how do all these characters I play deal with each other? How does the
insecurity of the long-grown child sit side-by-side with the
confidence it takes to be a newspaper editor? Or manage people? Or be
a father? Or write books?
You
got me, I'm just trying my best to play the roles I've been given,
and most of the time it feels like an improvisational exercise. If
there's a script, no one's ever given me one.