Good morning! It's December first. I've been up since 7:30 and outside since 8:50. A brisk walk does wonders for the soul. It also chaps the knuckles and sends a siren's call to my brain chanting "cocoa, cocoa, cocoa". With cocoa now in possession, I am stationed at my new laptop (YIPPEE!!) and ready to post!
With warm cream and vanilla added to the cocoa, The Norse AND The Force are strong with me this winter morning
In class we've been discussing the fine line distinction between nonfiction and fiction. I never thought much about it until now, how the lines between the two genres can be blurred and indistinct. To me, nonfiction is anything based on real life. To write nonfiction, the author must be true to themselves, true to their life as they see it. There are those in my class who would argue (and have) and one in particular who argued that as long as anything is written by human hands, there can be no nonfiction. I find that opinion negative but it is his and in a way I understand it.
Fiction. Ah, the freedom to create worlds and bring down kingdoms. To write fiction, the author has to be true to the story. What? Not to themselves, what they want? No. In fact, the most damaging thing an author can do is write a story the way THEY want. Madeleine L'Engle once wrote that the best thing she can do when a story comes to her is get out of the way and let the story write itself. I agree. Stories are wise, much wiser than we are. We'd do better if we'd shut up, sit down, and let the story flow through us, our fingers, and onto the page.
What are your thoughts? To you, where does that distinction begin and end. Obvious genre distinctions aside, for you, where does "truth" begin and "fiction" end? Think carefully. Mrs. L'Engle also once wrote, "What is real?" and that wise wizard Albus Dumbledore, when asked by Harry Potter "Is this real? Or is this all happening in my head" replied: "Of course it's all happening in your head. But why should that make it any less real?"
Go forth and dazzle!
PS: Oh, and if you're up for it, I'm back at The Manor, posting about life, slowing down, and the random, mysterious things that make life beautiful. Do join me for tea! Sagewood Manor
Good morning! I've got a very special treat for you today. A fellow author has released her very first book! Yes, this call...
Writing in the Summer is a derelict house in desperate need of repair. It sits and crumbles as the wind and waves encroach. Sand sifts in ...
How's your week going? Things are quieter around here for me. The cleaning is over (for now) and I even tackled the kitchen. The spirit ...
I'm a Summer child, a beach bum, a water baby. The Winter is beautiful but it and I have a long-held animosity towards one another, es...
The weather was perfect, not too hot, with a nice breeze helped along by the two fans behind me. The tea was cold and the flies wouldn'...