I.C.A.C. (in case anyone cares) was the flippant title I originally assigned to my memoir (more of an autobiography) about growing up with a “Greatest Generation” father. Perhaps it would be more fitting for the following project.
My very smart and insightful friend, Mark Caruso, told me recently that he thought I should make my work on Murder in Small Town: The Tragic Death of Stacey Burns into an autobiography, a book which would describe my life as I tried to tell this story. It would concentrate on the writer of the story instead of the story itself. This suggestion presents several interesting quandaries.
Would people who seem to have lost the passion for seeing this case solved care about the trials and tribulations of a writer trying to develop a true, factual, and accurate narrative about the crime?
Is there interest in the ongoing process as well as the final product?
Is there interest in seeing the writer as a player in the story rather than a reporter of the story?
With no resolution and apparently no arrests in sight, perhaps I should try this. (I.C.A.C.)