That makes me sound agoraphobic. I’m not. I just need a reason to go somewhere, a purpose. I’m not an aimless wanderer—I’m a purposeful wanderer.
And so I wandered to the craft store and Starbucks. On my way back, loaded down with a big bag of yarn and a giant cup of coffee, I was pulling out my keys to enter my apartment building when I saw it. I had no idea what it was at first. I had a horrible moment where I thought it might be a dead animal. (more…)
Which is odd, because I write fiction. Or maybe that explains everything.
The thing is, I crave authenticity. But authenticity is hard to find in fiction, especially when it comes to characters and endings.
Much too often, the characters are simple stereotypes or completely lack depth. They’re missing the motivation for their actions or any true personality. I’m a big fan of personality. I want characters to be quirky and full of life, like real people are. I want them to talk like real people. Instead what I hear coming out of their mouths are the words the author shoves in there. (more…)
I wandered, browsing as I walked. I wasn’t really looking for anything. Just looking. I strolled down the stairs, and as I came around the corner, I saw it. The desk. Scratched and dusty, it looked like life had been hard on this beautiful black desk. It wobbled a little as I touched it. I ran my fingers across its surface, leaving streaks in its protective coating of dirt. Stickers dotted across it announced a price of $40.
Most people probably saw the scratches and walked away. Usually I see scratches and I think about a way to cover them up. But not this time. This time, I actually liked the scratches. Scratches and nicks are life. Heaven knows if I were a piece of furniture, I’d have plenty of scratches. (more…)