By Stephen Mathews
On a scrap paper, I wrote down the word lemon because that’s how I felt: capable of sweetness, overwhelmed by a sour mindset, and isolated by a self-created bitterness. It was comforting to relate my emotionality to fruit, so I wrote down the word lemon repeatedly – in pen – as if practicing a signature and decided to take some ownership of how I was living. At the time, I was between jobs, anxious about damn-near everything, and in a pattern of self-destructive behaviors that I refused to do anything about. Two years later, after embracing the grittiness of accountability, I wrote The Age of a Lobster and used my introspection as a reliable foundation.
Set in the vibrant city of San Diego, the story revolves around Ian Marlow, a man who has spent his entire life, even as an adult, conforming to the expectations imposed on him by others. Ian’s parents not only provide financial support but also reject his homosexuality, while his cousin Alli sees him as unreliable and immature. As a result, Ian’s mental landscape becomes desolate, leading him to struggle with bulimia and alcoholism. Among the crowd, only Andrew Reyes truly sees Ian for the creative and kind-hearted person he is, charmed by his charismatic and self-assured nature. Through his experiences with Andrew one summer in San Diego, Ian is inspired to find freedom from the future his parents want for him. Authenticity and the feeling of true connection to the world add to his captivation with the vibrant beach culture. Unfortunately, however, Ian remains oblivious to his own contribution to his suffering and willingly gives up a life with Andrew for the facade of being accepted. It isn’t until five years later when Ian is pulled back to California for a funeral that he finally experiences the freedom of living life on his own terms.
While this story provides insight into the worlds of homosexuality, eating disorders, and mortuary practices, it is ultimately a story about self-acceptance and self-destruction, which are themes that are universally experienced. I kept this in mind while writing, becausethe reader deserves a raw, honest story that parallels the realities of coming into our own. I remember thinking about how grisly the metamorphic process truly is and how it mirrored literal and metaphorical death. Ian’s journey is a metamorphic one. He had to lose his sense of self in order to recreate it so that by the end of the story, Ian is found living a happy, fulfilling life.
I faced two key challenges while writing The Age of a Lobster. The first was ensuring that every one of the characters in the story was authentic and believable. In other words, each person Ian interacted with needed to be there for a reason. So I wrote some characters by combining the traits and personalities of people I have observed in life. I wrote the others as personified embodiments of various mentalities. For example, Ian is a culmination of the insecurities I felt in my youth and the kindness I held onto to get myself through. Andrew, though, was created based on what I, at the time, thought would make me the confident person I wanted others to view me as. Ian was the man I was, and Andrew was the man I so badly wanted to be.
The other challenge arose much later in the writing and proved much more emotional than technical. The embalming process, burial rites, and grief are topics that demand a lot of heart, and because I was writing from my own experiences with these topics, it was difficult for me to put myself back into that world. Immediately after graduating college, I began working at a hometown funeral home. Since I was one of three morticians, we all had to know how to retrieve, embalm, cremate, organize funerals, and, most importantly, console. I learned so much about the variety of life while working there and how beautifully crucial human connection is. So, for The Age of a Lobster, I wrote about the embalming process in immense detail and with all the heart I had.
While my life doesn’t completely mirror Ian’s, there are similarities that made me fear a similar path, prompting me to make different choices. Because of that, I am incredibly fortunate to have amazing people in my life. My sister Ana was the first to truly embrace and accept me for exactly who I am, and that made all the difference. My husband, David, is a living marvel of genuine love. Without the courage to live the life I deserved, and if I continued to blame others for my own setbacks, I wouldn’t be a part of his life. My friends and I support each other’s creativity by constantly exchanging ideas and providing constructive feedback, knowing that we all possess artistic talents. I have a strong relationship with both of my parents, and I am proud of the deep connection we have built over the years.
I hope my readers find themselves celebrated in the pages of The Age of a Lobster, and I am beyond grateful for everyone who has shown support and appreciation for my writing. There is more to come!
