by Jacob Cleveland
One of my favorite depictions of nature is Aesop’s fable about the scorpion and the frog. It is the ultimate tragedy, for both the frog (who denies his nature) and the scorpion (who does not). I love the implications, the subtle questioning, and as writers, that is what we want our readers to do—to question what they once thought to be true. Because as Murakami once said, a good author does not answer questions, he asks them.
Of course, there are other aspects to our nature—quiet things, hidden in the poet’s “bottom drawer”—that if denied, start to infiltrate our daily life, and it’s these small marbles of one’s nature, that if spilled, carve a tragic path as they roll their pre-destined course down one’s life—objects in motion. And it’s these slips that bring our characters to life, that allow readers a window into their core.
One of my favorite depictions of nature is Aesop’s fable about the scorpion and the frog. It is the ultimate tragedy, for both the frog (who denies his nature) and the scorpion (who does not). I love the implications, the subtle questioning, and as writers, that is what we want our readers to do—to question what they once thought to be true. Because as Murakami once said, a good author does not answer questions, he asks them.
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Jacob Cleveland’s bio began with the Vassar Miller Prize winner Paul Allen and how, at the College of Charleston, Paul mentored Jacob in poetry, form, and meter. It moved on to Korea and Japan as Jacob taught ESL and bartered for a room in a monastery on an island off the coast of Pusan. Two years later, it woke up on the floor of an offshore fishing boat and pulled red snapper out of the Atlantic for a captain with a death wish and a sixty-seven-year-old first mate, Skip. Skip, if you’re reading this, you owe me five bucks. Looking for something more, Jacob’s bio worked its way through the medical field, from the acute in-patient psychiatric ward to conducting genetic research and transcranial magnetic stimulation for the Department of Veterans Affairs. All the while, quietly editing everything from cookbooks to a series for losers (The Loser’s Guide to Winning) for the media-technology company, BiblioLabs. Then, not with the clap of thunder, but with the delicate opening of a cocoon, Jacob’s bio emerged, no longer a short description of cold facts, it was…a long bio.
Image courtesy of Mihai Tamasila.
