The First Line of My Novel
was in Zagreb the day that Michael Jackson died. When I heard the news, the first thing I thought was, “That’s it. That’s the first line of my novel. ‘I was in Zagreb the day that Michael Jackson died.’” It seemed exactly right – odd, bizarre even, incongruous, an appallingly sad event viewed from an eerie state of helpless remove. It encapsulated all the feelings I’d been wanting to get off my chest, without having any actual story to attach them to. I’d been toying with the idea of writing fiction – probably as a way of avoiding the real task at hand, which was my academic writing. Given the economic climate and the disconcerting contraction of the university job market, the old saw “publish or perish” was taking on a new urgency. It was making me a little anxious. So sometimes when I sat down at my computer, I’d find myself fantasizing about writing a novel instead. That first line fell in my lap, but it was entirely true. I was in Zagreb the day that Michael Jackson died. I got the news in a text from Sven. “omg did u hear mj died.” All I could answer was, “no way wtf ?!” It was 1 a.m. when I got the text. I went down to the lobby of the Arcotel where I was staying. I was there for an academic conference. It was the 15th annual meeting of PSi, Performance Studies international. The lowercase “international” is not really Barbara Browning / 5