A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Nine-Hundred

I am feeling pretty good about the stories I am writing this week, or at least the last few days.  They have felt more like stories, I suppose, though I am not certain just what that means, really.  In part, it is that I've often been writing things which are more like micro-memoir at times than actual fiction.  I don't really think there is a problem with that.  Stories drawn from real life are fine and good and I often find, when I don't have a good idea for a piece of pure fiction, it is not difficult to think of a real event that is worth exploring and describing, or feels as if it would make for an interesting piece of writing in some way.  That is fine, as I said, but I am glad that, at the moment, I have been able to put together some really interesting pieces of fiction.  It may be, in part at least, that I am not always as comfortable with the kinds of personal revelations that sometimes come out when I write stories that are more true to my life, but part of being an artist involves that type of exposure, I think, at least for me in my work.

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