Member-only story
Why Write Fiction?
The role of make-believe in a tell-all world
I’ve been a writer of fiction since I first learned how to make words with crayons on construction paper. My first short story was about my cat, Cleo, and a series of improbable adventures she went on.
My fiction writing progressed through all the usual stages — “…and then I woke up” surprise endings; fan fiction before it was even called that; thinly disguised (okay, not at all disguised) lamentations about bad relationships and bad breakups and yearnings for unattainable boys.
Eventually, I wrote fiction that other human beings might actually want to read. I don’t know, maybe some of you hit it out of the park the first time you step up to the plate…but I think most writers have to get a lot of crap out of the pipeline before reaching the good stuff.
All the while, though, I’ve also been writing nonfiction. I kept a diary on and off for decades, only really stopping when I began blogging. (On LiveJournal, and if you didn’t already know how old I am, now you do.) I blogged regularly until the Book of Face drained off everyone’s daily attention — most absolutely including mine. (I haven’t managed to figure out Twitter, I confess; I’ve tried twice, but something about it just defeats me.)
