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Oh, To Write (Fiction)

Yes, this is going to be one of those posts.

One would presume that because I am a young writer, I write all sorts of genres and mediums when, in fact, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

For the past four years, my writing has been in one of two different “thought camps,” as I’ll put it.

On one end, we have analytical writing, work that is produced for school, and analyzing old White people as they bicker about some issue that does not affect me nor anyone else of my generation. Oh, yes, there might be some hidden meaning. But for the most part, I am writing about another piece of writing. Usually prose or poetry, but something that could be more original and that I have little interest in. Such as writing about Jane Austen’s Emma. Quite frankly, it is just a bunch of extremely wealthy people with too much money and free time who want to accomplish anything meaningful for their lives. So they instead get involved in love games that only don’t end in disaster because they can escape at a moment’s notice…