Transcript

A: Let’s talk about the recurring themes in your stories.

B: Which are?

A: Escape from literal captivity, or societal or emotional restriction. Context is only implied. Stories end before any resolution.

B: True.

A: Why?

B: They’re not different stories, finished and ready to be presented. They’re alternative iterations of an idea until I write a version I’m happy with.

A: What will make you happy?

B: When the balance is right. I want it to feel real, but it has to be heightened to keep the reader interested.

A: And the ambiguity?

B: They’re about an intrinsic state rather than an extrinsic scenario. If settings are too specific, stories can become so anchored in that world that the universality of the protagonist’s experience is lost.

[A minute’s pause with only the sound of a pencil on paper.]

A: We’ve done a few of these sessions now, with little progress, so I’m going to break the rules and push hard. You’re holding back, in your stories and in here. The ambiguity is not to present a universal truth, but to obscure yours. And the attempts to balance reality and the reader’s interest reflect a worry that your own problems are too mundane to warrant attention.

B: Is there a question?

A: Do you agree?

B: No. Everyone has something they’re dealing with that’s significant to them, but is hard to express when others are suffering more. That’s not what these stories are. They’re not a veiled cry for help.

A: That’s how I read them.

B: How can they be about me when the protagonist is…

A: [Interrupting] …a woman?

B: Exactly. It’s not me.

A: So you claim, but the first person is confessional. “I did this, I did that.” You feel compelled to share your secret, then get scared and hide.

B: Nonsense. Using a female protagonist is useful. There’s a tacit understanding of weakness.

A: Women are weak?

B: Stop twisting my words. Put a woman in a room with a man and readers understand the potential for harm. That’s the patriarchy, not me. Make that woman male and the same danger could exist, but it isn’t automatically assumed. I’ve already told you I’m trying to avoid extraneous explanation, so I need shortcuts to suggest risk. The female lead is such a shortcut.

A: Liar. These obfuscations aren’t just devices to save words or prevent distraction from the story. You want to scream for help, but you fear no-one will care and it’s tearing you up inside.

B: F**k you!

[A crash as a chair hits the mirrored window.]

A: Finally some emotion! Let it out. Tell me the truth. I can’t help you if you maintain this resistance.

[Almost three minutes of silence, except for footsteps pacing. The chair is placed back next to the desk. Two deep breaths are followed by a long sigh.]

B: OK. You win. Here’s the truth. The story begins with my mother in a room much like this one…

Bio: Born in Cowes, living in Southampton, lover of the sea. Writer of short stories and long essays. Interested in the interaction between the inner world and external environment.

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