IFFY FICTION

It began with a flash of inspiration, a whisper from the muses, a bubbling up from the depths of the fathomless unconscious mind.

Isn’t that incredibly annoying?

As human beings, we’re inherently creative. Artistically or otherwise, we’re the creators of our reality, at least on a personal level. And I don’t know about you, but as a creative person, nothing frustrates me more than the lightning bolt of inspiration, descending from on high.

Lightning is unreliable. Lightning strikes when and where it may. Lightning defies our need to control. All we can really do is stand there with a metal rod, hoping to be struck.

So, when I hear that someone’s great idea came in a flash of inspiration, I get cranky. Whoop-de-do! Luck you!

I find it very unhelpful to hear that from someone else. I need to hear that you toiled away, making lists, drafting, revising, sacrificing chickens to the Dark Lord. Real, actionable steps.

But when I have a great idea in a moment of inspiration, I take full credit. Because lightning strikes with A LOT more frequency when you’ve covered your plot with metal rods.

So, if you’re wondering, the idea for this blog came in a flash of inspiration just after I planted three new rods in the form of Morning Pages (iykyk). Here’s what I jotted down in my notebook:

“A blog in which posts are either autobiographical of fiction. No one would know the difference.”

CJ’s Morning Pages

I put a little star by it, and that was that.

I created IFFY FICTION (another flash of inspiration) as a place to write whatever the fuck I want. It can be true. It can be fiction. But I’m not telling which.

As a writer, I felt myself falling into the trap of “should.” I should be writing short fiction before attempting a novel. I should be writing a novel. I should write fiction because documenting my life and thoughts isn’t legitimate art. (Sorry memoirists and diarists).

But I like those things. And I like fiction. And I like having a place to put my writings, whatever form they take, into the world. A place where I have the final say.

So that’s the beginning. You will read fiction here. You will read true-ish stories from my life. You will read the contents of my mind disguised as character, setting, plot. And sometimes you might read something like this.

I do what I want.