Writing Fiction

I've been a writer for a short time, a couple of years at best, and always of the non-fiction variety. Kiran challenged me to submit another piece for NorthWord, the local literary magazine now starting to gather content for its third iteration. I wrote a creative non-fiction story for the last edition about the last visit I had with my grandfather, about a month before he died--I Think We Stayed a Long Time This Way. The creative part was writing that encounter from the point-of-view of Grandpa, seeing his dying days and this last visit with me through his eyes.

Fiction is a different kettle of fish, a cloth of a different colour. I stewed about the challenge late into the night trying to find a starting place, a circumstance, a person, a subject that could unfurl into a story.

I heard someone once say to "write what you know". So, shortly after 1 am, I settled on the one thing I know backwards and forwards. I know its sights, its sounds, its smells. I know its highs and its lows. I know how it feels when it's hot and I know how it feels when it's cold. I know it as well as anything I've ever known--interPLAY. It has been a part of my life for the past decade and a half, 15 full years.

Another part of my life that has been around almost as long is being a father to my son Dylan. I know his heart, his spirit and what many have described as his "old soul". So, in this story a young boy, inspired by Dylan, will find love one hot August day at interPLAY--the innocent, pristine and untainted love we all felt as children. What happens next is yet to be determined, but I'll keep you posted.

March 6, 2010 - 191.6 pounds, 26.4% body fat

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