Me, A Fictional Writer - You Have To Be Kidding!
For some odd and crazy reason I cannot write fiction. I don't know why, I have tried -- however, I seem to always resort to writing nonfiction. I guess it's just a matter of perspective. If I have seen or experienced or have heard about something, I am able to write about it. Just pulling a story out of the air is something I have not mastered. Tracy, can write fiction all day long. Below, is a fictional story I wrote as an article – just to see if I can write fiction. Well, the article proves that I need a lot of help writing fiction:
Trying My Hand At Writing Fiction
By Argile Stox
Mar. 16, 2006
Well, today I’d thought it would be a good time to try my hand at writing fiction. The hardest thing for me to do is start an opening sentence. Every teacher and professor I had through high school and college drummed into my head, ”You must have an eye grabbing, thought provoking opening sentence - for someone to begin reading your material.”
The funny thing is that the fictional story is a story that has all already been written in my mind. Yet, for some strange reason I cannot bring the story to life on paper. I am just stuck on the dreaded opening sentence. I would imagine that seasoned published writers and journalists have no problem with opening sentences. I guess to make it easier for you to understand this situation, I will put it to you like this; I am in a nightclub and a woman catches my eye. Many guys have walked over to her and she basically just told them where to go and how to get there.
Meanwhile, I’m building up the courage to talk to this young woman. However, what do I say to her that she has not heard a thousand times that evening? That is the trouble of having trying to write something fictional –and writing an opening sentence You only get one chance to make a first impression.
The fictional story I have in my head is very short. It is not going to be a novel, novelette, or anything like that. It is going to be a funny short story. That’s it! However, I am a nonfiction writer –if it hasn’t happened yet, I have not written about it, yet. Writing a fictional story is like throwing a box of Lego‘s me, and telling me to build something. I don’t know how to get started and I don’t know what I want to build, etc.
I truly would like to write this funny short story –however, it may offend a certain religious sect. I am Jewish. I am the most reformed Jewish person you’ll ever meet roaming on the face of this earth. I eat ham, bacon, sausages, and may have an occasional glass of milk when consuming a corned beef sandwich. “Oy-Vey, as in a truly a lost Jewish person.”
The Short Story Begins This Way:
This short story deals with a man who is in his late thirties, and lives in a moderately Jewish orthodox neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York. The man, I will call Harry –follows all the Jewish traditions, attends synagogue on a regular basis, and tries very hard to follow the edicts and traditions of his religion. However, Harry has a deep secret. He enjoys a good ham sandwich on rye, with a little mustard or mayo, and a cream soda.
If he were to walk into one of the eating establishments in his neighborhood, ordered a ham sandwich on rye with mayo, and a cream soda –the patrons of the establishment, who knew of Harry - would get really pissed-off. For it was a Sin to eat pork, or have milk with meat.
However, when Harry was in college a friend gave him a half a sandwich to eat. The sandwich was the most delicious food item Harry had ever eaten in his lifetime, up until that point. When Harry found out it was a ham sandwich –he ran to the bathroom, and tried to empty the contents of his stomach in the toilet. After that experience Harris swore up and down that he will never eat any pork products, again. Harry got down on knees‘, said a short prayer and asked god for “forgiveness.”
It is now twenty years later, Harry is married, has a great job in an accounting firm, and has a son and daughter, and very loving wife. They do not keep a kosher home –however, there are some Jewish traditions that they do follow. One of these traditions forbids eating any pork products. Harry on the other hand, never forgot how delicious that ham sandwich was. His mouth would water each time he smelled or saw a honey baked ham in a store or in a friend’s house. This problem with ham did not disrupt his life. Harry just made it a point to stay away from all pork products, and live his life as usual. However, one day his desire to have a piece of honey baked ham got the best of him.
One Sunday morning, Harry told his wife that he needed to run down to a local hardware store and purchase a few parts to repair a household item. His children were at their usual Sunday activities and his wife was looking forward to reading the New York Times. So, Harry got into his car and drove twenty miles out of town to find a restaurant that served honey baked ham.
Within 30 minutes Harry found a restaurant and parked his car in the back of the eating establishment so that no one would recognize his car. A few minutes later he was seated at a table and placed his order: “Two slices of honey baked ham, sweet potatoes, and the cream soda.” It did not take a long time for his order to arrive and it placed on a table before him.
As he was about to take his first bite of the succulent piece of honey baked ham, who should walk into the restaurant? His brother-in-law! Harry immediately dropped the fork to the ground and tried to find someplace to hide. However, Jerry – Harry’s brother law, placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “We need to talk!”
Jerry was a good guy and always treated Harry with respect. “Harry, I went through what you’re going through, right now. I was busted for eating a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich by my cousin a few years ago. Don’t worry Harry - your secret is safe with me.”
After that, Harry and Jerry had a good conversation. They caught up on all the gossip and family events that had transpired since their last saw each other. After about an hour, Harry and Jerry left the restaurant; and before Harry could open the door to his car, Jerry handed Harry a card. It read, “Pork Products Eaters Anonymous. Hot Chicken Soup served at every meeting.” Harry placed the card in his wallet and thanked Jerry for his understanding.
The next day, Harry confessed to his wife that he had a predilection to eat ham. He also produced the card that Jerry had given to him. Harry‘s wife was very understanding and attends meetings with Harry twice a week. Both Harry and his wife enjoy going to the meetings, because it strengthens their marriage and they see old friends. However, no one else in the family knows about Harry’s addiction to ham. Let’s keep it that way….
End of Fictional Story – So, how did I do? Was it at least – Funny?
Do you see what I mean? That, is why I write nonfiction....
Argile Stox
