In recovery circles, it's called denial. In public office, they say it's politic. In marriage, if undiscovered, it's saving face, if found out, lies of the very worst kind. And written in a memoir? Well, a writer might call it fiction. In a single day in April, famed author, Elmoe Mattila, “reveals” through his latest book the first year of his sober life spent in the company of an outrageous band of ne'er-do-wells and misfits, culminating in sorrow, disillusionment, and some very good fortune. Els's audience, his ex-wife of twenty years, as she pushes to reclaim her role as wife and lover, doesn't buy his novelistic explanations. She wonders all the while if her ex can tell the difference between truth and lies. Perhaps Els says it best: “For a year I'd sat at my blood-money desk, gazing out into green space behind my brownstone along West 11th, seeing them all. Staring out, I wrote much of the fiction from memory. A single-day romp through NY's West Village, into a California recovery program, and across the seamy side of Hollywood all in the name of fiction. It's the story of a novelist writing about an author who tells the story of a writer. Who is telling the real story? ******************************************** ************************************* CAS 06-17-18 A single-day romp though NY's West Village, into a California recovery program, and across the seamy side of Hollywood, all in the name of “god's honest truth.” In recovery circles it is denial. In public office it is fake news. In marriage it is covering your tracks. And in memoir it is a lie called fiction. One day in April, famed author, Elmoe Mattila, “reveals,” through his latest manuscript, the initial year of his life sober, spent in the company of an outrageous band of ne'er-do-wells and misfits, culminating in sorrow, disillusionment, and some very good fortune. Els's audience, his ex-wife, doesn't buy his novelistic explanations. All along she wonders if her ex can tell the difference between truth and lies. Perhaps Els says it best: “For a year I'd sat at my blood-money desk, gazing out into green space behind my brownstone along West 11th, seeing them all. Staring out, I wrote much of the fiction from memory. It's the tale of a novelist, writing about an author who tells the story of a writer. Who, then, is telling the real story? ******************************************** ************************************* CAS 06-17-18 rev by tj A single-day romp though NY's West Village, into a California recovery program, and across the seamy side of Hollywood, all in the name of “god's honest truth.” In recovery circles it is denial. In public office it is fake news. In marriage it is covering your tracks. And in memoir it is a lie called fiction. One day in April, famed author, Elmoe Mattila, “reveals,” through his latest manuscript, the initial year of his life sober, spent in the company of an outrageous band of ne'er-do-wells and misfits, culminating in sorrow, disillusionment, and some very good fortune. Els's audience, his ex-wife, doesn't buy his novelistic explanations. All along she wonders if her ex can tell the difference between truth and lies. Perhaps Els says it best: “For a year I'd sat at my blood-money desk, gazing out into green space behind my brownstone along West 11th, seeing them all. Staring out, I wrote much of the fiction from memory. It's the tale of a novelist (Els), writing about an author (Moe) who tells the story of a writer (Tom). Who, then, is telling the real story? ********************************************** *********************************** AEJ 06/24/2018 Amy, When an author tells the story of a writer, whose story is it?  Meet Elmoe. He’s an aging writer who just spent three hundred days staring out the back window of a West Village apartment in Manhattan—writing. What came of those days? According to Elmoe, known as Els, the manuscript is a work of fiction, but his ex-wife calls it memoir. Even Els admits, he wrote “from memory.” People You’ve Been Before is the story of a stroll taken with an ex-wife—a daylong walk that spans thirty years—exploring the question of who we are today, and who we were all the days before. Their walk begins one morning in New York City and takes them, by late afternoon, through Minnesota and on to Hollywood, California where Els recounts his hell-and-back journey into—and out of—a recovery program that saved one of two lives.  What in addiction recovery circles is named denial is called politic in public office and saving face (left undiscovered) or betrayal (when found-out) in marriage. In the world of memoir, “lies” are  fiction. In today’s age of 'fake news,’ we hesitate to trust even the most worthy sources. Now individuals are forced to decide truth for themselves. Who has the real story?  Revision of AEJ 06/24/2018 When a novelist tells the story of an author writing another man's tale, whose story is it? Meet Els Mattila, an aging novelist who just spent three hundred days staring out the back window of his Manhattan, West Village apartment—writing. What came of those days? According to Els his finished manuscript is a work of fiction, but his visiting ex-wife calls it memoir. Even Els admits—but only to the reader—that he wrote it “from memory.” People You’ve Been Before is the story of a day-long encounter colored by forty years of marriage, divorce, and tragedy—exploring questions of who we are today and who we were all the days before. The visit begins a morning in New York City and takes the couple, by late afternoon, through Minnesota, Northern California, and on to Hollywood as Els recounts his hell-and-back journey into—and out of—a recovery program that saved one of two lives. What in addiction-recovery circles is named denial is called politic in public office, and either saving face or betrayal in marriage, depending on who's talking. In the world of the writer, lies make fiction, and if the writer doesn't know truth, fiction becomes a lie. Who has the real story? When a novelist tells the story of an author writing another man's tale, whose story is it? Meet Els Mattila, an aging novelist who just spent three hundred days staring out the back window of his Manhattan, West Village apartment—writing. What came of those days? According to Els his finished manuscript is a work of fiction, but his visiting ex-wife calls it memoir. Even Els admits—but only to the reader—that he wrote it “from memory.” People You’ve Been Before is the story of a couple’s day-long encounter colored by forty years of marriage, divorce, and tragedy—exploring questions of who we are today and who we were all the days before. The visit begins a morning in New York City and takes the couple, by late afternoon, through Minnesota, Northern California, and on to Hollywood as Els recounts his hell-and-back journey into—and out of—a recovery program that saved one of two lives. What in addiction-recovery circles is named denial is called politic in public office, and either saving face or betrayal in marriage, depending on who's talking. In the world of the writer, lies make fiction, but if the writer doesn't know truth, fiction becomes a lie. Who has the real story?