story?

I checked my mail. There were comments from Dad about the blog. I was glad to get something. Then there was an invitation to read Narrative's Story of the Week.

I clicked through. The way they do it, there's a title, and a line or two, and an author's photo. It's always exciting.

I didn't click through to the story, though. I felt too much in a hurry. Maybe if it had sounded just a little easier to read, I might have. It wasn't that it sounded less than mesmerizing, just that it sounded a hint difficult.

Then, below that, there was a poem ... poem of the week. Poet's photo. I thought I recognized the name, a big name. There was the poem. Three lines, seven words. It was, actually, fantastic.

Below that, "story writing contest."

But, I don't write stories.

Do I know how to write stories?


Next morning. After breakfast, I find myself hustling. First, I'm tidying in the studio. Walking fast, first to the back, then to the front, this way, that way, back and forth, moving things from one spot to another, into new groups, new places. It's a thrill to be moving. Following the plan I formed at night, I photograph the steps, in considerable detail. (But I've also been studying how to be selective, when I'm shooting.) I'm going over in my mind my plan for assembling a little book, which I want to complete this morning.