Sunday, October 30, 2011

Why I Write Fiction

Writing the He said portion of a He said/ She said column for my high school newspaper, I dipped my pen in an ink well filled with satire as thick as maple syrup and proceeded to advocate a few devilish positions including the worthlessness of cheerleaders.  I faced an avalanche of rage from the female population who carried lip gloss on their person 24/7, while a larger, less visible hoard lauded me as a hero.

Suddenly aware of the power of the written word, I later wrote articles for the Appen News Service, features for periodicals, and columns for Game-Day Programs to augment my meager income I earned playing minor league baseball.   Whether reporting news for hundreds of readers or playing baseball games day after day for thousands of cheering fans, I was struck by the need in people’s lives for escape, a desire for more than a quick diversion that most entertainment provides.  I saw parents needing a true journey away from a city that has been home for decades because the high price of air travel makes leaving impossible, lovers silently begging for passage out of relationships stuck in first gear, grinding up steep inclines, and dreamers desiring invitation into a world that can make dormant adrenal glands, once feared dead, fire anew.

I want to write stories and stir these souls.  Feedback from readers of my novel, The Ball Player, confirmed for me that well-written fiction can provide texture to our daily routines and add vivid colors to the backdrop of our lives.  I hope that my brushstrokes will one day stretch across the country and that my voice is one that readers will ask for many times over. 

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