My writing has taken a left turn. I woke up Sunday with an inspiration to write a story about a widower who became a bear. So: I did. I don’t write non-fiction normally, but I went with it. (I’ve tried a few other times, I started a novel in the form of a “journal” of a guy who was going to get murdered by a lover, sort of a forensic pre-murder mystery, but it went nowhere.) This time, I just got up and wrote. What followed was an odd combination of a Disney movie treatment and a Springsteen like view of working class America with a heavy dose of symbolism thrown in. I posted it right away, so it wouldn’t disappear like my “Journal” did. Ever since, I have been asking myself, “What was THAT?”

I am finding myself drawn to mythology and existentialism lately and the philosophy of Native Americans: so I think I am being prompted to write some myths for modern times, some short stories about being a man in America in 2012.  (It’s about all I am qualified to write about.) In a scientific world filled with technology and loneliness, we need mythology, we need to let spirit back in. I don’t have any aspirations for the stories or any idea where the next one is coming from, this is purely an exercise in saying “Yes and…”

Following inspiration for no particular reason is a an exercise in faith. I’m all for that.

Publishing it in your blog immediately after writing the first draft may be an exercise in idiocy, so please be kind.

I’ll let you know where all this goes.


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