Sometimes what I write is true. Sometimes it is complete fiction. And other times, the plot might be fictitious but it is rooted in the truth. Sometimes what I think is actually fiction turns out to be somewhat truthful.
Case in point?
One of the stories I am working on right now falls into the last category. I had something happen, I used it as a jumping point, and I'm working on it from there. I have a vague idea of where I'd like it to go, but the in between places still have yet to be determined.
Had you asked me two days ago, I'd say that aside from that initial interaction that sparked the story idea, my inspiration was coming only from my mind. That all of the things I had planned for my characters stemmed from some pit within me. But separate conversations with my sisters, and a good long run (always a mind cleansing and truth revealing action for me) made me realize that two of my most recent characters are beginning to look very much like my sisters!
I won't say how or why or who, and since I can't tell their stories (as in I only know my point of view, of course) and wouldn't want to anyway, the rest of this post will be boring, vague, and pointless, so I might as well stop now and go do something useful, like put together a study guide for my students.
Not only was I a neglectful parent last week but I was a neglectful teacher. Life sure gets in the way of writing now, doesn't it?
Case in point?
One of the stories I am working on right now falls into the last category. I had something happen, I used it as a jumping point, and I'm working on it from there. I have a vague idea of where I'd like it to go, but the in between places still have yet to be determined.
Had you asked me two days ago, I'd say that aside from that initial interaction that sparked the story idea, my inspiration was coming only from my mind. That all of the things I had planned for my characters stemmed from some pit within me. But separate conversations with my sisters, and a good long run (always a mind cleansing and truth revealing action for me) made me realize that two of my most recent characters are beginning to look very much like my sisters!
I won't say how or why or who, and since I can't tell their stories (as in I only know my point of view, of course) and wouldn't want to anyway, the rest of this post will be boring, vague, and pointless, so I might as well stop now and go do something useful, like put together a study guide for my students.
Not only was I a neglectful parent last week but I was a neglectful teacher. Life sure gets in the way of writing now, doesn't it?
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