A writing teacher once asked me, why are you in such a rush? You’re racing through your scenes as if you can’t wait for them to be over. What’s wrong with you? Are you a fugitive? Are you being chased? And what’s with your main character constantly going out for walks in the woods alone? And where are all the people? Where are the lovers, the friends, the sons, the daughters, the aunts, the uncles, the mothers and the fathers? And then this teacher asked me something I would never forget. She asked where are the windows?
I think what she was asking me was “where is the light?”
It’s easy to be alone. It’s easy to slip out for walks all by yourself. It’s much harder to stay in the world–the messy, often catastrophically funny, heartbreaking world.
But that’s where all the good stuff happens.
