So I’ve never been much of a fiction writer. I have trouble committing to a world in which I’d see my characters and situations exist; too many options to narrow down. I’m more stimulated by nonfiction, where I trust the parameters of truth and reality, and can use that to interpret it in a rich narrative.
(Fiction feels a little like a kid-tested, mom-approved lie, which is both enticing and scary to this journalist. Another reason to give it a whirl.)
But I’ve dug in, alas, thanks to changes to the magazine! And I’m so happy I did.
When we added a fiction section to Block Club last year, we did so because we wanted to expand on the way we interpret our issues’ themes. If we were going for something a little more abstract, a little less expected, why not delve into fictional territory? Surely there would be new textures and landscapes in the land of the infinite, right?
I’d never edited short fiction, and while nervous at the prospect of taking on a new medium—especially where seasoned, professional creative writers were concerned—I quickly realized how accessible it is to my frame of mind, someone who’s always preferred the challenge of making nonfiction sound compelling, captivating, story-like.
I started a blog (my 938,103rd, approximately), and I dump it all there. It’s kept me on my toes creatively, reminding me that I can and should find other ways to use my writing skills. It’s helped me heal, express, shout, scream, laugh and connect. My hindsight-resolution for this year: Find a new medium and take it on, head-first.
Next week, some friends and I will host our first creative writing club meeting. Still working on a name, though I’m hoping Who’s Bringing Cookies sticks. All we intend to do is share our writing and talk about it. I mean, that’s just the best.
I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, go write yourself a poem.