I chose to major in poetry because it was cheaper to make the copies for workshop. Well, that and the limited attention span when it comes to writing. I'm a sprinter. But I've always loved fiction, and written fiction, and read fiction for pleasure. My stories tend to be very short and make no sense. Sound familiar?
This Fall I'm teaching intro to fiction writing, and familiarizing myself with this startling new edition of Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway--apparently fiction has changed since the mint green 4th edition; perhaps the color looked too much like money--and now I'm writing stories in my head everywhere I go.
On a long walk with Ray today, seeing a semi-grizzled sixtyish man mowing his yard while carrying a small American flag (leftover from some realtor who put them around our neighborhood on the 4th; I know he was just holding it because he'd plucked it off the parkway, but it still seemed significant somehow), or in the mall, with some lady saying, No honey, we're not going to Starbucks, Mommy only drinks hot cocoa in the summer, I am Writing Fiction in my head and it's gotta stop. It's going to get in the way of the poetry!
I will, however, be writing a poem with the man driving a stick shift through my mind the other day. I just need to figure out what kind of car.