A writerly brag: a psychological diagnosis was created just for me! Wait, before you call the men in the white coats, let me tell you my story. Somewhere in the depths of my medical records, I am identified as suffering a “Hemingway Complex.” And I must admit, I am rather proud of it.
The short version: An active outdoor enthusiast my entire life, in my thirties I was sidelined on crutches for over a year as a result of medical malpractice (minor detail, they operated on the wrong leg). In what I imagine was a fishing expedition hoping to wish away my documented nerve damage from the bungled procedure, the lawyers for surgeon and hospital demanded I visit their designated psychiatrist. After some discussion about my loss of sports activities and work teaching scuba in the Caribbean, experiences that contributed to my adventure novel-writing, the psychiatrist pondered for a time and announced that I had what appeared to be a new syndrome: The Hemingway Complex. Then he rushed off, presumably to announce his exciting contribution to the medical community.
Eventually they did pay for my corrective surgery and physical therapy, and I resumed my outdoor adventures and travels, flying my colorful Hemingway banner. The thing is, that psychiatrist maybe had it right: My novels do take their inspiration from some of the exotic places where I’ve lived or travelled, and many of the action scenes draw on personal experiences and muscle memory. Even as a child, I had an irresistible urge for daredevil adventure and exploring new places (I gave my poor mother many gray hairs), and I still feel my pores opening to suck in every molecule of new impressions when I travel and try something new like zip-lining or cenote-diving.
So what is the Hemingway Complex?
According to the psychiatrist, it’s a hunger for adrenaline-fueled action, foreign environments, and the strong emotions they trigger, all of which would be harnessed into stories. Ernest Hemingway himself certainly fit the profile: He famously threw himself into dangerous situations, such as driving an ambulance in the World War I Italian front, where he was seriously wounded; working in combat zones as a journalist during the Spanish Civil War; surviving serious accidents on safari in Africa; accompanying the Normandy Landing of World War II as a journalist. He was also an outdoor sports enthusiast, especially hunting and fishing. All of these experiences generated his stories and novels that earned him a Nobel Prize and an enduring place in classic American literature.
Hemingway’s bravery in leading some soldiers (breaking the rules) during WWII also earned him the Bronze Star, and according to Wikipedia: “He was recognized for his valor, having been ‘under fire in combat areas in order to obtain an accurate picture of conditions,’ with the commendation that ‘through his talent of expression, Mr. Hemingway enabled readers to obtain a vivid picture of the difficulties and triumphs of the front-line soldier and his organization in combat.’”
The critical part of this “complex” is that Hemingway was able to funnel his intense experiences into stories that allowed readers to participate in a world beyond their personal horizons.
Again from Wikipedia: “Hemingway used autobiographical details as framing devices about life in general—not only about his life. For example, Jack Benson postulates that Hemingway used his experiences and drew them out with ‘what if’scenarios: ‘What if I were wounded in such a way that I could not sleep at night? What if I were wounded and made crazy, what would happen if I were sent back to the front?’ Writing in ‘The Art of the Short Story,’ Hemingway explains: ‘A few things I have found to be true. If you leave out important things or events that you know about, the story is strengthened. If you leave or skip something because you do not know it, the story will be worthless.’”
I’m curious to hear from other writers or readers about authors who inform their work and lives. I’m guessing that most have affinities with certain authors, and Hemingway has definitely inspired me. In reviewing his life and works just now, I have to admit there are also some interesting parallels in our lives, including similar injuries and illnesses during travel or longer sojourns in foreign countries. Thankfully I have avoided his personal experience of war (though my longterm former partner was a wounded veteran of the Vietnam War, which definitely infused my creation of the character Vic in my novel “Islands,” set in the Caribbean that Hemingway also loved).
Even my early science fiction novels grew from seeds of personal experience: competing as a gymnast, teaching scuba and living in a treehouse tent in the Caribbean, operating a nuclear reactor near the vast, rolling wheat fields of Eastern Washington, backpacking and petroglyph treks in my native Pacific Northwest. All of those impressions morphed into new settings, but the essential, visceral images helped bring the characters and themes to life.
Now my question to myself is this: Do I need those intense, personal “Hemingwayesque” experiences in order to write my stories? Or could I write from a clean slate of pure imagination? Can anyone do that, and is there such a thing?
Hemingway Memorial above Trail Creek in Sun Valley, inscribed: “Best of all he loved the fall, the leaves yellow on cottonwoods, leaves floating on trout streams, and above the hills the high blue windless skies.”
Sara’s newest from Book View Cafe was just released in print and ebook: The Ariadne Connection. It’s a near-future thriller set in the Greek islands. “Technology triggers a deadly new plague. Can a healer find the cure?” The novel has received the Cygnus Award for Speculative Fiction.