I’ve thought a lot about what to do with this blog. I spend a great deal of time every day writing and thinking about writing. Planning writing. Finding things to write about. And friends, I am burnt out.
What I am writing, some of the time, is fiction. Some of it is lines that I’ve mulled over, or turns of phrase. Some of it is short plots. Some of it is humorous, McSweeney’s type lists. It’s all over the place.
And you will get to see some of it. I’m not asking for feedback on any of it. It just that I’m finding my brain escaping to and exploring fictional worlds sometimes, to get away from the real things that I write about every day. I am going to give you a peak into some of these worlds.
Some of these worlds are the size of a sardine tin. Some of them are the size of a high school gym. What I’m saying is, some of these worlds are more realized than others.
When I write things like this, I see the first sentence or thought as about a cubic inch of space. The more I follow that thought, the bigger it becomes. It’s often in a room, and then the room has doors, and then other rooms. The more I write, the more details I see in that space. The more props I give the characters to use, the more they do with them. The more they turn into real people. At first, when I start writing, things look hazy, like I’m seeing through smudgy glasses or fog. The more I write, the clearer things become. One of the stories I’m working on starts in a house. I’m making the characters walk through different parts of the house so I can see what it looks like and get a feel for the layout.
It’s different. I’ve taken fiction courses before (what writer hasn’t) and I’m not always comfortable in this space. But I find myself turning to it as an outlet recently.
So this blog might turn into a fiction space for a bit. Try not to confuse these stories with my real life. They are not my life.
But, just like lies, stories feel stronger when there’s a thread of truth in them.