Usually a blog post with a similar title
to this one’s would ramble about how fiction helps the writer escape reality.
Well, that’s not the case here.
My reality is pretty great. I don't need to escape it. I like to draw
from it for both my fiction and nonfiction. But the really cool thing is when I
can make fiction from my reality. Drawing from my reality for nonfiction is
just talking about my day. It's not that remarkable.
But fiction is where I get to pick and
choose bits of my reality and other people’s reality and a bunch of crazy
elements that were never reality, and I weave them together for something so
much more complex and beautiful.
For example, I could talk about writing
like this:
“I am a writer. I write. It’s what I do.
I breathe life into the page. I terrorize English teachers with my wild first
drafts. I plot and outline and organize so much, but when it comes down to it,
I just love the words. It’s magical to watch the words in my head become words
on the page.”
Or I could write a fictional story about a
writer. Here’s an excerpt:
“No place like home,” I sighed. The day
had been long.
I got out my writing utensils (that is, my
laptop) and typed up an entry in my private online diary, which they call a
blog these days. Except mine was a private blog.
Ah. I wiggled my feet out of my shoes and
socks.
I tied my brown hair up in a bun.
Day 125.
Wow. Had it been that long?
Nothing made sense during the day until
this moment when I unburied the thoughts and feelings I felt in the deepest
part of me. I poured out my soul onto the glitch screen. Line after line.
Paragraph after paragraph. Esther really had hurt me. And I had so many
feelings.
Why do we have to have feelings? Why do
they hurt so much? It’s not lovely to be human. I’d rather be a god or a
unicorn or something. Fly away as a pterodactyl on a cloud of gold. Sail down
the Amazon River with natives.
Nothing could keep me sane as I clicked
away at the keys.
Which
is more powerful? I like the fiction better. You can throw random things into
it (ie. pterodactyls, unicorns, Amazon natives) and it makes sense. Because people and plots and prose are powerful and
confusing and complicated.
You don’t get that from an essay.
~Madeline
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Thank you for reading! I cherish each and every comment and usually respond within a day or two. ~Madeline