Sunday 11/05/2006 11:23:00 PM

When I was a little girl I'd refer to myself as a writer. Because of this my older brother once challenged me to write a story.

So it was on.

I started with a castle. Quickly added in the requisite princess. Then I stopped.

I didn't want to write about those things. But with fairy tales being my only life experience to draw on, I was stymied for plot. For characters. For the substance I inherently wanted.

It's a true story.

And to this day I still struggle to reconcile the limits of what I've experienced in life with the vastness that writing demands of its disciples.

I hear the doorbell chime. In asthmatic gasps. And hurry my way down the stairs. But by the time I get there.

It's gone.

2 comments:
RuKsaK said...

I wrote a story about a family of ducks when I was about six. Never got published - as has nothing else - mainly due to the fact I've never sent anything.

Anyway, loved the metaphor in the last bit. Sorry if it wasn't a metaphor, but I've taken it as one and shaped it for that purpose. That's the other dilemma of being a writer I guess - letting someone else bring up your children in front of you.

alcoholic poet said...

i'd totatlly buy your book were you published. hell, i might even read it. :-)

it was a metaphor at the end. i confess, you caught me. i'm a metaphor junkie. is there rehab for that?



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