A Conversation with Robert Desiderio, author of The Occurrence

Q: First, you’ve spent your career as an actor and screenwriter. What made you decide to write a novel?

A: A few years ago, I was writing a pilot script for what ultimately became The Occurrence. During the evolution of the idea the story kept expanding, more characters developed, and I realized it wasn’t a script—the story needed more space, which the world of a novel allows. The Cuzco, Peru, story line about the young visionary, Jhana-Merise Salva, and her protective father, Vincente, were the first characters to emerge, and guided me to the realization this was meant to be a book.

Q: How did the process of writing a novel differ from that of writing a script?

A: For me, writing a script is a marathon; writing a novel, a triathlon. In screenwriting, less more, and everything needs to be communicated—to the actor, director, and designers—in a lasered way. In a novel, you have the luxury, and the demands, of being the whole team—nothing is left to the interpretation of others until it gets into the hands of the readers. Then, it’s their imagination that takes them into their own relationship with the story.

Q: Now let’s talk about THE OCCURRENCE. We’re calling this “a political thriller.” It begins with a mystical event in the desert—which seems to be politically motivated, but that we soon learn is steeped in ancient history. What sort of research did you do before writing it?

A: There is a wealth of writing on the world beyond the one we know—from mystics, to archaeologists, to prophets, and historians. Religions are steeped in the mysteries. The Bible, Qur’an, and Zohar all explore worlds beyond the things we see, taste, and touch.

Ian Stevenson was one of the premier researchers in reincarnation. Brian Weiss’s Many Lives, Many Masters brought the idea of past lives to greater public awareness. I used this type of research as a jumping-off point for the characters’ deep connection in the book. Other inspirations are Jessica Stern, an American scholar and academic. Her interviews with extremist members of three religions—with Christians, Jews, and Muslims—are eye-opening. And the award-winning author and war correspondent Janine di Giovanni takes us into war zones of lost humanity and human resilience. I used these, and other sources, and allowed my imagination to expand on their inquiries.

Q: There is a deep undercurrent of the mystical throughout the book. What writers influence you?

A: Writers who explore the mysteries of the human heart, the moral complexities of life, and who make things we believe don’t exist so real we feel it, fascinate me. Shakespeare makes ghosts, witches, and dreams as real as trees. Michael Ondaatje’s poetry is stunning and takes us into history

and mythology. Ann Patchett’s literary elegance is breathtaking. She takes us into states of wonder. Paulo Coelho reminds us of the power of our soul. In nonfiction, Stern, di Giovanni, and Lawrence Wright’s exploration into real-world events are touchstones, and helped me dig into the intricacies and paradoxes of the human condition.

Q: Our protagonists, Julian and Dominique, disagree about the presence of miracles and whether or not they are to be believed. And Jhana-Merise’s father has his own doubts, even after she cures a burn victim in the hospital. Is there a difference between a true miracle and the power of belief?

A: I think belief and intention play huge parts in what occurs in our life. And things do happen which we can’t explain, that we call miracles. I believe the stronger the belief, the more likely the outcome from that belief. The question is, what kind of belief is at the source? Intentions, and the value we own in ourselves, determine the direction that energy flows. However, for me, beliefs and intentions do not necessarily miracles make—they determine the course we choose to follow.

Q: Did their opinions of miracles change over time, after the unusual happenings continue and they learn more about the source of those events?

A: Through the mystical occurrence in the desert, which thrusts us into the story, our journalist, Dominique, becomes more convinced and owns where she’s being guided. Julian, the solider, is closer to his tipping point at the end of the story, but doubt still has a hold on him. Jhana-Merise, our young visionary, is firmly rooted in her destiny, and is “the young child who leads them.” Vincente, her working-class father, comes to have his own connection to the divine, separate from his religion that he had discovered after the death of his wife.

Q: One of the major struggles for reformed terrorist Hashim is the conflict between a “jihad of the sword” vs. “jihad of the soul.” Can you discuss this dichotomy? How does this mind- set play into current events, in your opinion?

A: People read into language, whether spoken or written, from what they’ve been taught, what has been modeled, and their own life experiences. In my opinion, our mind-set travels two roads: love or fear. One produces an openness and vulnerability, and links us in a common purpose: to learn and evolve and be connected to the world, and others around us; the other produces separation, which leaves us alienated, alone, often violent and angry.

The story of The Occurrence evolves beyond a pure political thriller when the terrorist leader, Hashim, and his young disciple, Nazir, are thrust from their lives of violence—the jihad of the sword/ the lesser jihad. This transformation connects them to their higher purpose—the jihad of the soul/ the greater jihad. It also unites them to the spiritual awakening of the other main characters through which they engage—in this lifetime—and through past life connections. It’s here that they have the opportunity to help shift the tectonic plates of violence that have controlled the world ever since our ancestors took a bone in their hands and realized it was a weapon with the power to kill.

Q: Symbolism runs deep—the smell of roses, for example, is a constant of the unknown throughout your book. What does this mean?

A: The roses are a clear religious/ spiritual metaphor, and have traditionally been linked to the presence of Mary, mother of Jesus. I see it also as a sign of protection. While I’m not religious, I respect those who are guided by the love inherent in their teachings. What’s been done in the name of those beliefs leaves much to be desired, but I trust they all began with the need to understand the world beyond the one we know.

Q: Without giving away the ending, we’re left with a feeling of hope for the future. Was this the original ending?

A: The story has always been about transformation, the evolution of the human spirit, and the tensions and conflicts that guide us one way or another. The story originally ended with the terrorist, Hashim, living with the consequences of his horrendous acts of violence. But I came to realize that it needed to end with Dominique. This gave the story a resonant bookend. And, while it allows the reader a complete and singular experience of hope in the future, I’m curious to know what happens next in their lives.

Q: Let’s go back to the genre of this book. It says “a political thriller” but it seems to encompass more than one genre; it might even be called a parable. Can you speak a bit to this?

A: It does cross genres. For me, writing about a world that explores the ethereal requires using language, images, and experiences that are relatable from everyday life. The jumping-off point in the novel is a very real situation—a kidnapping and an execution. This grounds the story in reality. Where it goes into a world beyond that, but we never veer from the dynamics of people in denial, caught in a whirlwind they don’t understand, and the fear that comes from being put up against all they’ve been led to believe. Weaving the metaphysical through the political thriller genre gives me the opportunity to explore the many levels of our experience and curiosities—the paraphrase Shakespeare— ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.’ And, yes, for me, it also has the dynamics of a parable.

Q: Which leads me to book clubs. This seems to be a perfect book to stir an intense dialogue. There’s a lot to chew on, debate, challenge, and explore.

A: It would wonderful if the book created that kind of relating. It’s something I think about every day, and something all of us are curious about to one degree or another—what is this life for?