Where's the FUN?

On Father's Day, I took my husband to see Man of Steel, as it seemed like a safe bet for both adults, a kid and a tween to go see and enjoy.  I like Superman, but I'm not like an aficionado or anything.  I don't read comic books and I never watched Lois & Clark or Smallville.  I didn't even see the last movie with Brandon Routh.  I just saw the films with Christopher Reeves when I was a kid and I remember them fondly.  


Now, $50 later, I feel sort of let down by Man of Steel and I keep wondering why. It could be that it was really violent.  There is a huge amount of destruction and Superman plays a part in the wreckage.  I'm sure people die in the film from all the buildings collapsing, but we're never shown it.  We're just shown a very angry Superman taking out all his repressed aggression on General Zod and his female companion, Faora, who brags "You have a sense of morality and we do not. And that gives us an evolutionary advantage.  And if there's one thing that history teaches us it's that evolution always wins." Well, we know that when someone makes a statement like that, they're going down.  Call me old fashioned or something, but I just wish that Superman would have struggled a bit with hitting a woman, even if she was evil. I needed to see his humanity and it just wasn't there.

I could also blame the lack of  FUN for not really liking this film.  I think why I like the Spider Man franchise with Toby McGuire is because we get to watch his transformation into Spider Man and he LOVES it.  He is amazed at his strength and ability and he gets how cool it is.  He also knows the responsibility that comes with that power and therein lies the tension of the film.  He wants to get the girl, but he knows if that happens, he puts her in grave danger.  Superman in his latest reincarnation just didn't have any fun.  I would have loved to see him as a kid doing something super, "Look Ma, no hands!"and having his parents totally freak out.  But, no. Instead, we see him freak out in class and his mom consoles him. Much later, we got to see him fly around really fast and kind of dig that, but it was a little too late.  Who wants a moody, sad Superman?  Not me.  


So, who is your favorite superhero?  Why?  Did you see Man of Steel?  Thumbs up?  Down?

True Crime Writer, Suzy Spencer

Happy Tuesday, folks!  Today I am pleased to have Suzy Spencer on the blog.  I met 

Suzy Spencer

 when she was a featured speaker at the

DFW Writers' Conference

a few months ago.  It was a Sunday morning and she was talking about SEX!  So, you know me, I was curious.  But, that's not why I've invited her on the Death Writer Blog.  Although her latest book is a memoir about investigating the fringes of American sexuality, she began as a true crime writer.

And here she is!

DW:  Initially, what made you interested in writing about true crime?

Suzy Spencer:  I fell into writing true crime. In 1996 a writer/friend came to me and said there’s a really interesting murder that YOU have to write about. When I asked her – and kept asking her – why I had to write about it and why she shouldn’t write it, she never answered. She just kept repeating YOU have to write it.

I did a bit of research on the murder. It was interesting – a rich young lesbian who ruled the downtown Austin gay club scene was murdered by the handsome, drug-dealing boyfriend of her beautiful cheerleader girlfriend. I sent a letter to an editor I knew – who had turned down all my previous work – and mentioned the murder. Unknown to me, she sent my letter to her editor-in-chief, and six months later I had my first book deal – after years of trying and failing.

At that point, I’d never read a true crime book in my life. But I do think my friend was right. I had to write that book –

Wasted

. It and, more importantly, its murder victim Regina Hartwell have stayed in my soul for 16 years.

Regina always wanted to be famous, and I hope that in some way I’ve given her her 15 minutes of fame. Because of

Wasted

, Regina has been written about in gay publications from coast to coast and featured on two TV shows on the Investigation Discovery network – “Deadly Sins” and “Scorned.”

DW:  What was the most difficult aspect of writing about death?

Suzy Spencer:  Holding the grief and the agony of the family and friends of the murdered … and the grief and the agony of the family and friends of the murderer. People realize and understand that the family and friends of the murder victim are grief-stricken and their lives are irrevocably changed, but they don’t always understand is that the same thing happens to the family and friends of the killer.

For example, in my book

Wages of Sin

, which is about a young woman who was reared devout Southern Baptist, became a stripper, then a killer, her best friend was so devastated when she realized what her childhood friend had done that her life fell apart – a life that she’d worked hard to improve after coming from tragic circumstances. She couldn’t cope. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t study. She had to drop out of school. When I met her and interviewed her, she was still trying to understand and accept that her best friend was a killer and trying to get herself and her life back together, because she had a child she needed to protect and role model.

DW:  What surprised you most about writing true crime?

Suzy Spencer:  Oh, gosh, so much surprised me and still surprises me. I think when I started writing true crime I thought I’d just be a reporter telling a story. I had no comprehension that I would be holding people’s grief in my metaphorical hands, sitting with them and listening to their pain and anger, and trying to convey that in a book. I certainly didn’t realize how my work would make so many people angry – from judges to attorneys to parents and friends.

But from an everyday citizen point of view, I guess I wanted to believe everything in the world of true crime is black and white – someone murders someone, their guilt is black and white, the trial is black and white, the punishment is black and white.

I’ve learned that that’s not reality. When writing true crime, there are so many truths and rarely is one black and white. There is the family of the murder victim’s truth. There is the friends’ of the murder victim’s truth, which frequently is different from that of the family’s. There is the truth of the murderer’s family and friends. There is the prosecution’s truth, which may or may not be the whole truth. There is the defense’s truth, which rarely is the whole truth, but sometimes contains a lot of truths that the prosecution says are lies. There is the judge’s truth, which may be biased by personal prejudices and relationships. And there is the jury’s truth, which is determined by the hearing of incomplete “truths.”

As a reporter, I have to listen and respect each person’s truth, and then try to figure out what the facts are. And unfortunately, the facts aren’t black and white.

DW:  In your latest book,

Secret Sex Lives

, you mentioned the need to laugh. What aspect of writing these books took its toll on you?

Suzy Spencer:  Oh, gosh, there are so many things. The grief, the agony that I mentioned above. It’s hard to sit for hours with sources as they weep and not feel and share their pain. The responsibility – to the victims and their families and friends – to handle their stories with sensitivity and respect while telling the truth, which they may not know and maybe shouldn’t know. And then there are the physical, tangible aspects – holding in my hands murder victim Regina Hartwell’s blood, tissue, and retainer with her teeth still in it; holding and smelling her burned clothing; studying her detailed autopsy report and graphic autopsy photos; then staring at photos of her as a child and hearing the stories of her tragic young life. None of that ever leaves you. And I went through similar experiences for all four of my true crime books. After a while, that wears on one. Or at least it wore on me.

DW:  Do you think you'll ever go back to writing true crime?

Suzy Spencer:  I don’t plan on it.

Pam Goes to Prison - Part Deux

    
     Because the Cleveland Unit is a men’s only unit, we had to be escorted by a staff member to use the women’s restroom.  Five of us were allowed in at a time. There I met two women from Baltimore who had plans to start something similar to PEP in Maryland.  After our bathroom break, about six “executives” listened to twelve different business plan presentations.  The first one went on without a hitch, but during the second presentation, two men entered the room and began loading and unloading the change from the vending machines.  The noise was a distraction and this poor guy kept losing his train of thought.  Several men, quietly encouraged him with “you can do it.”  Because we were on such a tight schedule, he wasn’t allowed to repeat his speech, which made me feel bad for him.  But, I guess that’s how things go in the real world.  We don’t often get a do over when someone’s cell phone rings and we lose our concentration.

  After each man was finished with his presentation, we offered feedback. At the end of the first round, we had to allocate our “funds” to the business plan we felt had the most potential for success. We were reminded by Jeremy Gregg, the Chief Development Officer of PEP that we shouldn’t vote for charisma, but for actual solid business plans. It was difficult, as so many of them were terrific. In my past, I had owned two businesses, but these men probably knew more about business than I did and they were way better public speakers.

     Then we went to lunch—cheeseburgers, chips and two cookies.  There was much chatting and I spoke with another man who was a writer.  He asked me what I wrote, where I’d been published, and why I was there at the prison. When I mentioned that I’d been to death row, one of the men at our table nodded and tapped another man on the arm and said, “She’s been to the row.”    

     Dance As If No One is Watching You – Day Two

     On day one and day two, the executives were asked to dance their way to the front of the room.  The men cheered our name as popular music boomed and lights flashed off and on like a makeshift strobe light or an epileptic’s nightmare in the PEP room. It is apropos that their acronym is pep, because that’s what it felt like, a pep rally. I imagine there is a reason that both the men in the program and the executives in attendance are asked to dance.  My guess is that it makes people feel a little self conscious, especially if they’ve got two left feet. But once they hear the roar of the crowd and realize that they’re not going to have a heart attack, it doesn’t matter how they think they look.  I didn’t feel particularly odd.  Well, maybe the first time I did.  But on the second day, I figured what the heck?  It was a celebratory day.

     After we listened to the four finalists deliver their amazing business proposals, we had to vote for the winner.  This was a tough decision.  All four men had  wonderful business plans, but I ended up giving my “cash” to the two men who ended up in third and fourth place.  What do I know?

    After lunch—we had cheeseburgers for a second day in a row, and then we went to the gym.  Let me get back to the lunch.  I felt kind of bad because I told the man I was standing in line with, that I was kind of let down that we were having cheeseburgers again. (I have a sensitive constitution,)  He said they never get cheeseburgers or chips or chocolate chip cookies and then I felt like a big old whiny complainer.  It’s all a matter of perspective.  From my friendship with Sonya Reed, I know about prison food.  Meat is, well, kind of like meat if you squint real hard and cover it in ketchup.  Fresh fruit is available only at Christmas and a salad is as rare as a unicorn. 

     Inside the gym, several family members milled around the large room, while children made signs for their dads or brothers or uncles.  I felt sort of out of the loop.  PEP encouraged us to mix and mingle with the family members, but I’m horrible at small talk and no one would accuse me of being a social butterfly.  But, as luck would have it, I found myself seated behind a man and woman who hadn’t seen their son in nineteen years.  I found out that they communicated regularly with their son, but not in person.  That’s one of the benefits of PEP, they reunite families, especially those experiencing financial hardship.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off them as the commencement music began and their son, along with eighty-seven other men marched into the room in cap and gown.

     I am a sucker for Pomp and Circumstance.  Seriously, I just have to hear it and the hair on my arms stand up and I get all teary eyed.  Add to that the fact that more than half of the men in the program had never walked across a stage to accept a diploma in their lives.  To watch their faces beaming with pride made me lose my composure.  I asked the two women from Baltimore if they had a Kleenex because I desperately needed to wipe my eyes and my snotty nose.  Thankfully, they did.

     Jeff Smith, a former Senator from Missouri, gave the commencement speech. Awards were handed out.  The men in the program presented their children with teddy bears from the Build-a-Bear Workshop that they’d made, as well as long stem roses to the women in their lives.  It was all very heart warming and I was so glad I’d made the trip with my sister-in-law to attend.

     As we departed, we stopped to congratulate Manuel, the first writer I met, who ended up as one of the final four.  His father, sister and brother were there in support of his accomplishments.  As we walked towards him, he said, “I couldn’t sleep last night.  I kept thinking about your book.” He looks towards his family.  “Pamela faced her fear of death.  I can’t remember who said it, but it was kind of like that quote, the cave you fear to enter holds the treasure.”  And he was right.  This was the treasure.  I would never have been here had I not taken that journey.

     I am starting to think that “the death writer” name is kind of a misnomer, especially when I take a look at my publishing history.  While every single one of my published pieces has to do with death or the threat of death, they are also about incarceration.  In “You Have the Right to Remain Silent,” I wrote about attempting to get my incarcerated brother treated for Hep C.  In “Surrender,” I wrote about meeting a man on death row who was about to be executed.  “Saving Violet” is about rescuing a feral cat from being trapped and killed at a women’s prison.  In “Build It and They Will Come,” I write about what it’s like to work in a jail.


     What can I say?  I’m drawn to prison.  Not that I want to be sentenced to a prison, but for some reason, it is a subject that fascinates me.  I believe in hope and redemption and second chances.  And PEP makes it happen.  If you’d like to get involved, go here.