Words, words, words

Shout out to Anonymous: I liked the George Saunders quote. I'm not sure I'll be turning any of my characters into milkshake slurping chimpanzees with marital problems (and to be honest, I prefer the realistic description, "Lisa sat at a black table," to "Lisa languished in an obsidian abyss"), but I adored the comment. I have half a mind to think that you're my mom commenting anonymously, but Saunders isn't her style. You're too pretentious and self-reflectively clever to be my mother. I wish I knew your identity. Anonymous.

Well, I was going to title this blog post "Bringing Up Baby" and discuss my flickering yen for an infant, but the literary comment put me in a different mind frame. I've been trying the writing thing, but I'm not sure I like it. I have fun for a while typing away at a short story, but when I read it the next day I think, yeesh. I have very high standards and a good eye for talent, which is why I'm a good literary critic. But, these same high standards and instinct for artistry leave me with no option but to chuck my stories in the trash. I think nonfiction is more my forte, and I'm just not sure yet whether that nonfiction has to be critical or theoretical to be decent. I hope not, because I kind of kicked that career to the curb by leaving graduate school to live in Portland with T-money, but I have to admit that the best writing I do is the dramaturgical stuff for the theatre. So...we'll see.

Perhaps Lisa will be in that obsidian abyss before long.