This is a note to the future. I am writing this on January 9, 2019.
I am writing this to people who are googling the term “Fasciola minuta.” There is no reason for anyone to do so today. However, conceivably, people of the future may do so, after the publication of my current fictional work-in-progress, tentatively entitled “Children of the Umber Soil.”
The whole purpose of this blog is to bring people with me on a journey as I write a short story collection called Animal Stories—a collection in which the first story will be narrated by a single-celled organism, and the last story narrated by a human being.
I began the collection way back in 1995, but drifted away from it around 1999, and then resumed work on it again until earlier this year. And when I resumed that work, I did so by writing the first story for the collection. That’s right, this year I wrote a short story narrated by a single-celled organism.
Elsewhere in this blog, I have a “story of me” that was intended for members of my family, friends, and so on. It covers my life generally.
In this article, I want to talk about my journey as a writer specifically. There’ll be future articles in which I talk about the book I’m writing, but for now I want to talk about the authors who set me on my current path.
Two months ago, I started writing fiction again after nineteen years of falling away from it. During the past week, I attended two events in two days that made me feel like a real writer again. Here’s the story.