In Part I of this article, I explained
how important a person’s writing ability is to the eventual solution and
prosecution of crimes. Having seen a
lack of this over the course of many years, I decided to explore it in a more
systematic manner.
Since research on the ability to write would
be helpful, I decided to start mine by asking my wife a simple question. “Was your mother a good writer?” My wife and her sister both are excellent writers,
more than able to convey their thoughts, whether in an email or some other form
of written communication. For the
record, my wife’s answer was “Yes.” I
thought that was an excellent start to proving my theory that the ability to
write is inherited, thus genetic.
Believing this topic deserved more
extensive research, I asked myself, “Was my mom a good writer? How about my dad?” And the answer to both questions was an
unequivocal “yes” for both, despite the fact that my dad had only an eighth grade
education (the required standard for the time he was in school). Then I asked myself, “Are your kids good
writers?” Again the answer was yes. So I quickly advanced my theory ahead a few
more spaces on the board.
Then I asked myself, “Am I a good writer?” And the answer was “I think so.” I know when I was a police officer in
California, some of my reports were deemed to be “legendary.” And I always enjoyed writing them. I enjoyed doing research papers in college
and graduate school, seeing these as an opportunity to think outside the
box. In the FBI it is said that only
about ten percent of all agents can put together a complex investigation,
explain it in reports, and then write a wiretap affidavit (which is basically
longer than the worst term paper you ever did, and has to be reviewed by tons
of lawyers). In twenty years, I wrote
about ten of them. So apparently I was
capable of writing at a high level while in the FBI.
But, did being able to write good
reports, search warrant and wiretap affidavits predict a good writing
career? Those reports are generally
narrative, and that type of writing doesn’t necessarily translate directly to
an ability to write a novel. I found
that out with the first book I wrote, which was deemed “horrible” by a literary
agent after she read only part of one chapter. I was floored. Result: Writer’s block for about five years. I was a hopeless case. My self-esteem plummeted. My hopes and dreams of someday becoming a
best-selling author were dashed.
Or so I thought. I was living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa at the
time, and about twenty miles down the highway was the University of Iowa. Somehow, I found out about their famed Writer’s
Workshop, and decided to see if I could attend. No problem. Pay the tuition, attend
for two full weeks, and hopefully come out a better writer on the other
end. And so I paid and attended. We did a lot of evaluating of each other’s
work. When my chapter came up for
review, it prompted an extensive lecture by our instructor. And finally the light bulb went on and glared
brightly. I remember him saying, “You
build a story by using action and dialogue.” You mean narrating won’t work? Nope. But I was really good at
writing police reports and stuff like that. Doesn’t matter, that was narrating, and it doesn’t work if you’re trying
to advance a story in a novel. Oh, now I understood why I got that scathing
rejection – I can write great police reports, but that doesn’t translate to
writing a book someone will want to read and which will hold their interest.
It was just the jolt I needed, but then
came the problem of adapting my writing style to my newly-learned
knowledge. You can’t tell a story with
dialogue only, and if you revert to action, you’re back to narrating. This caused a significant paradigm shift for
me. I had to see if I had the ability to
blend both of these concepts together. And quickly learned it wasn’t as simple as I thought it would be. There was going to be some work
involved. I had to ask myself if I had the
commitment. The only way to find out was
to start writing again. But, don’t write
fiction. I didn’t need to do that. All of my years in law enforcement, about
fifteen by that time, gave me enough experiences to write more than one
book. In fact, I now have about eight in
my head. It’s a tight fit, in case you
were wondering.
I continued my research on the Internet
and found there was no shortage of information about the ability to acquire language as an innate
ability. But what most of that referred
to was people being more able than others to learn new and different
languages. I knew that didn’t apply to
me and was not what I was trying to discover. I did, however, find some short articles about the ability to write
being an inherited trait. Which I was very excited about, except that
the answers were clearly maybe or maybe not. That didn’t advance my theory a whole lot,
either.
I found a somewhat compelling blog by
someone who calls himself “Rodismay.” The blog had a ton of advertising links, so his goal is apparently to
teach people to be better writers and make money in the process. There were a number of comments by various
people who said they felt their ability to write was “God-given.” Mr. Rodismay also commented, “When I am in the
mood, one word heard or read can be expanded into more than 1000 words.” Hmmm, I thought, that sounds a lot like me
(and surely some of you). It’s almost
like being an alcoholic, by way of analogy: Once you start, you can’t stop. Maybe that’s not the best analogy. A better one might be getting the so-called “Runner’s High.” I’ve had all of these things happen, so maybe
writing is akin to an addiction? And
maybe, just maybe, I’m onto something here. Research on addictions shows a high degree of predisposition, such that
if one is an alcoholic, someone above you on the food chain, whether mom, dad,
grandpa, etc., was or is an alcoholic as well. So maybe this guy Rodismay has me headed in the right direction. And maybe I was starting to think outside the
box as I wanted to be.
And I continued my research. I’ll explain that and how I tried to connect
the dots in the third part of this article.
About
the Author: About thirty years ago, a small cadre of FBI
agents were hand-picked by the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit (BSU) to receive
training in what was then a highly-controversial and ground breaking concept:
Psychological Profiling. Pete Klismet
was fortunate enough to have been chosen to become one of the original FBI
“profilers.” He received additional training, was temporarily assigned to work
with the BSU in Quantico, Virginia, and put that training and experience to
work in assisting state, federal and local law enforcement agencies in
investigating violent crimes.
He was named National Law Enforcement
Officer of the Year in 1999, the same year he retired from the FBI. For the next 13 years he taught in colleges,
and is now retired as a professor emeritus. He and his wife Nancy live in
Colorado Springs.
Pete’s award-winning book FBI Diary: Profiles of Evil is available at www.houdinipress.com and www.amazon.com. He plans to release ‘a couple more books’ in
2014.
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