A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Ninety-Six

When I was a kid and wanted to learn about chess, my Dad got me a few books on endgames.  I didn't really understand this, as I wanted to learn how to play and wasn't really sure why the thing to learn first was the last part of the game.  I can understand that now, but I didn't then.  In some ways, I think this is similar to where I am, at the moment, in my fiction writing.  Many of the stories just don't have any kind of real ending.  They are premises that trail into mystery, which is an approach and I think can work.  Shaggy dog stories, for example, are valid and can be worth writing.  Kafka certainly made them work, for one.  But I would like to find my way towards doing more than that, even if I also continue writing those kinds of stories.  I have to believe that the fact I am thinking about this is a good sign, is evidence of some progress in my understanding and approach.

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