My short story “Uncle Daddy” was just published by You Must Be This Tall To Ride, a great online journal with a special place in its heart for that old stalwart, the coming-of-age story.
I’ve always been a fan of this particular genre. I can’t say that a lot of what I write falls into it in the most traditional sense of the term—I mean, when I hear “coming of age,” I think of confused teenagers learning hard lessons that they’ll look back on somewhat melodramatically in years to come. Or young children confronted with an event in their lives that forces them to grow up far faster than they probably should, or at least want to. After all, I taught high school and middle school English for eight years; I know what these sort of stories sound like. They’re about all you find in English textbooks anymore, and I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing.
But I don’t really think that’s all the genre is. In fact, I think that a vast majority of what gets written is, in some way, shape, or form, a coming-of-age story. Because stories are, ultimately, about what moves us or changes us, and if something moves or changes you, then shouldn’t it qualify? I’m in my late middle thirties now, and I’d be lying through my teeth if I didn’t admit that there are plenty of times when I look back on something that’s just happened to me and feel as though I’ve just crossed some boundary, as though I’ve just taken one more in a seemingly endless line of small steps into adulthood. I’m still waiting, in fact, for the day when a big bundled package arrives in the mail from some fancy-named government agency welcoming me into the Official Adult Club. That’s how I thought it happened when I was a kid, anyway. Being an adult was supposed to mean you knew all the answers, you got along with everyone, you always knew what to do and when to do it and how to do it the best it could be done. So what happened to that? Because I never got the memos.
So, really, we’re all coming of age, all the time. And all stories are coming-of-age stories, in a sense. We’re just all coming to different ages. We’re all waiting for different things.
“Uncle Daddy,” in any case, is a coming-of-age story of the more traditional variety. Pre-teen girl, social discomfort, family issues. I had a lot of fun writing this one. It started on a trip I took to Detroit, when I heard someone use the term “uncle daddy” in passing. That brought, clear as day, the opening scene into my head. The rest followed with almost scary ease, and it’s nice to see it online.
Thanks to You Must Be This Tall To Ride for publishing this piece. You can read it here: http://youmustbethistalltoride.net/stories/view/71.