Her mother said to us, “I want you to dress formal. It’s Thanksgiving. No jeans.”
M. and I exchanged looks. Formal?
Up in her bedroom, M. dragged out old prom dresses. “If she wants formal, we’ll do formal.”
The beautiful expressions on her parents’ faces! They made us go upstairs and change. Pity. I didn’t go to prom and I enjoyed the chance to flounce around in a fufi dress.
In fiction, you can try to give people what they say they want, but who’s to say you got it right? One person’s formal is another person’s uptight. One person’s free-spiritedness is another person’s debauchery. Or something like that.
I’m looking at my NaNoWriMo novel and wondering who on this planet would believe in a story like this? Well, I’m not at the point of caring today. It is the story I want to write. And if anyone wants to tell me they don’t want to read a story about a girl made of ink and paper, then there are many other deserving books out there.
There is the story you want to write and the story someone else wants to read. Of course, you don’t get published unless they enough someones will want your story, and what is that magic number? How much should we care when we put marks on paper?
I’m rambling. NaNo does that. In the end though, Happy Thanksgiving. Many thanks to you.