I HAVE A CONFESSION TO MAKE
I never really enjoyed reading Hemingway, forgive me guys for I
have erred. I dislike the dry dialogue sessions when he, the author could easily
have told me what the characters said and took me to the real fun, the journey
into the depth of their psyche, rather than leaving the whole trip to the
reader’s whim.
The point is not that everyone has the right to read a story and
take the journey into a character’s psyche in one’s own terms but it is the
difficulty involved in convincing the reader of doing so. Perhaps, it was OK
with Hemingway, not with me. I mean, the reader’s right to interpret a story in
whatever way one wants it, will remain unquestioned until the reader chooses to
be otherwise.
The times that I live in, demand a different narrative
sensibility. One that is short, fast, and to the point. People have no time for
subtle analogies. I don’t know if I achieved that in my latest short story; saying
is one thing, doing another.
I would like to get your feedback on my new short story named “My
Muse and I on a November Morning”.
My new short story is a flash fiction with word count a little
shy of 1500. I hope I don’t imitate Hemingway in this story. I never wanted to.
Please do tell me, if you feel that way. Or whatever way that is. Any feedback
is essential for the artist in me.
One of my friends, Stephen Boka read this short story and told
me this: “Your story made me wonder: isn't it enough for the writer's
inspiration to coalesce on paper or is publication the only way to vindicate
oneself? Writers always seek approval and vindication through being published
but maybe the journey is more important than the desired destination.”
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As Stephen suggests, the story is about writers, about the art
of writing, and about journeys that we take in our lives, and our destinations.
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