No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story.
There are no rules. I had a teacher once who told the class that if we took a picture of the state capital building in Providence he’d fail us. Oddly, I never have, and always look at that building like it’s a complete failure of a structure.
The next town was small, slow, and quiet. The skyline was bare and only steeples broke its plane. There was no traffic. The people were mostly older and paid little heed to William as he followed along the storefronts. He came to an alleyway behind a strip of restaurants where two older men sat on food crates. Cut jean shorts, yellowed tank tops. They looked up at him and then one of them waved him over. “Do you have a extra cigarette?” asked the man.
...My preferred setting is solitude and silence and a room free of ornamentation and distraction. Sometimes I write at a desk. Sometimes, on the couch. Or in bed....
skill in writing surfaces early