What is a story? The fiction writer said. Everything is a story. What’s not a story? Instead, how to arrive at the story – this is the question we must answer.
All is vision and revision.
Frank Stanford said: Mean and sing.
I would say point out everything but the thing you are trying to present, but make what you are pointing at sensual. Seductive… break the rules, seduce me. No one cares about text – only context.
The song is in what you didn’t say, she said.
*
He couldn’t believe he had invited her back to his apartment, couldn’t believe she had accepted. He wanted to ask her to sign his copy of her book, but he wanted her to take him seriously. Then, he didn’t care. His hand on the door, he hesitated, then closed it, put on the chain. He blinked, the fiction writer turned, approached him suddenly. He was starting to think he had made some mistake by asking her: Aren’t you afraid they’ll say it’s not a story?
You tell them what the story is, she said, finally.
She reached up, and, with her fingers, brushed a stray strand of hair back from his eyes. Her fingertips lightly stroked his neck, her breath, warm against his throat, then, on his ear. She whispered again: You tell them what the story is.
No, he said, but he meant: Yes.