Writerly Fantasies
I want to write a literary thriller featuring an intrepid character named Paige Turner. I want impatience to be widely recognized as a genuine editing tool. I want to write an entire book, maybe a series, without using the word was. Sometimes telling is required, but don’t tell us what to feel — make it impossible for us not to feel.
I want to invent the perfect man on the page and then run into him while
he stands in line at a small independent bookstore, waiting to buy my book. It would be easy to strike up a conversation and invite him out for coffee — and this time he will turn out to be someone other than my gay best friend, whom I picked up at my local Starbucks.
I want to write women’s fantasies so well that any man brave enough to read my books will finally ‘get it’ enough to mutter, “Well, now, isn’t that something. Who knew?” I want to write about sentient animals, too, because, of course, animals are sentient and it’s time we treated them
that way.
I want to write about food so well that my words promote peristalsis.
And I want to do all of the above well enough to earn a real living,
or at least well enough to satisfy my desire for essential daily tacos.
“Words can become things.” A little something I learned from my friend, Emily Dickinson.
“I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it until it begins to shine.” — Emily Dickinson
