A Novel

Published : Wednesday, October 17, 2007 | Label: Works In Progress  

My web designer asked me the other day whether I’d been inspired yet—by the cowshed, he meant, and the beautiful country it sits in, which he was seeing for the first time—to write fiction.

“But BB,” I said, “that’s not where inspiration takes me. Not at the moment, anyway. I’m inspired to lines not plots—to stanzas and prayers and paeans and meditations and rants. I know it’s weird, but that’s the direction my writing mind wants to wander.”

One day I might write a novel. More likely a string of short stories. But I don’t know. I have a feeling I’m not born for fiction; I’m born for lyrics and facts. For witness.

If I write fiction it may be because I want a curtain to hide behind. Sometimes one needs to protect one’s former lives; sometimes one needs to maskk one’s self and one’s friends and lovers and enemies. Sometimes one needs fiction’s beautiful lies. But I’m a bad liar. My inventions never persuade me. Let alone anyone else. All the same, I have a plot or two in mind. One of them’s a children’s book. Let’s see what comes.


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