Wetter, Bruce 1951-

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Wetter, Bruce 1951-

PERSONAL:

Born April 29, 1951, in San Diego, CA; son of Martin and Doris Borenstein; married Mari Wetter (a therapist and artist), October 28, 1986. Ethnicity: "White." Education: Earned B.A., 2001. Religion: Christian.

ADDRESSES:

Office—P.O. Box 74, Onancock, VA 23417. Agent—Ashley Grayson Literary Agency, 1342 18th St., San Pedro, CA 90732. E-mail—[email protected].

CAREER:

Worked with foster families, children of drug addicts, and other children and family groups, 1970—. Court-appointed special advocate; teacher of classes for children of alcoholics. Also worked as rebuilder of old houses.

WRITINGS:

The Boy with the Lampshade on His Head (juvenile novel), Simon & Schuster (New York, NY), 2004.

SIDELIGHTS:

Bruce Wetter told CA: "The simplest way of describing myself as a writer is to say that writing is a byproduct, not an end product, of who I am. In my daily life—while walking through the supermarket, sitting in the car at a red light, watching people board a train—my mind is making up stories. That just seems to be the way I work—God's gift to me. Some of the stories aren't all that interesting, some of them aren't all that believable, and some—a very few, I'm sorry to say—are quite captivating. I can't stop thinking about them. Over months and years, the stories take shape in my imagination; they become a topic of conversation with my friends. Naturally I'm careful about this. I don't simply come out and say, ‘I'm going to be talking about my illusory friends tonight, and the fantastic situations that they've managed to create for themselves.’ I wait for the proper opening; I work them in casually. Mostly, people just shake their heads and mutter stuff like ‘We watch him carefully. The family can't afford proper care.’ What truly amazes me is that I get invited anywhere at all. Well it helps that my wife is very likable.

"It also helps that I have an ongoing love affair with words. They are so moldable, pliable, and at the same time, they have a life of their own. They twist and turn and fight, making every sentence into a struggle. It really is as if they want to be in the right order, a powerful statement, and the only reason they are being held back is the lack of skill of yours truly. They gaze up at me from the page, clearly disappointed. ‘Get it right!’ they seem to be saying. ‘No, not that way! Do it again.’

"When I was younger, I had a ritual about writing: a certain type of pen and pencil, certain hours, a very certain and inflexible ritual—but life has beaten me into a more pliable magician. It is amazing what constant noise, disruption, stress, jobs, family can do. Now, I'm both happy and able to write almost anywhere, with anything. Well, some might doubt the ‘able’ part, but definitely happy; though, I must say, computers have made the work a hundred times easier. Why, you probably can't even tell what a lousy speller I am; can't type much better, either.

"I talked very little as a child, mainly because my parents talked so very much, and everything was about someone, or an argument, secrets to be kept, don't say this to her and don't say that to him. It was all very confusing to a five-year-old, so I took the safest course—say nothing to anyone. Reading became quite important to me, a bridge out of myself. I journeyed through the jungles in Green Mansions, I got my revenge in The Count of Monte Cristo. True, I also got detention every week for not paying attention to the teacher—in retrospect, a small price to pay.

"My breakthrough as a writer came in seventh grade. We had two lunch areas, and I got kicked out of both—a first for the school—and was remaindered into the library, to eat in solitude for the rest of the year. To say I was lonely in that silent place, listening to the laughter and screams of my schoolmates outside would be … simply not true. I had found heaven, I was forced to accept that fiction, to me, was better than life. I began to write back to my favorite characters. If I didn't like the ending of a book, I'd write a new one. And I discovered a wonderful truth: unlike life, in fiction, if I worked at it hard enough and thought about it long enough, I could get it right.

"Getting it right, as it turned out, is taking a bit longer than I expected. I was first published in fifth grade, a little poem in a citywide school paper. My next publication came at fifty. I sure hope I don't have to wait that long again. So buy my book, The Boy with the Lampshade on His Head, and look for the next. And if you meet me somewhere, invite me to a party. Me and my friends just love parties."