I will say right away that the short story is not my preferred mode of fiction. In fact, I’m rather terrible at writing short stories; I am long-winded in real life and therefore prone to verbosity when I write.
At university I took a series of creative writing classes in which the assignments included poetry as well as shorter fiction. I wrote pretentious neo-classical, high Romantic poems back in my high school creative writing conservatory, but poetry as a mode of expressing my thoughts and feelings is unnatural for me. I fared marginally better in the short story sections and my stories were always longer than the prescribed page limit and felt as though they were poorly contained within the medium.
I have many friends who write excellent short stories. Alas, if their talents would only rub off on me.
I’m not much of a poet; in fact, I would venture to say that I’m not a poet at all.
Poetry is not a natural way for me to express my emotions and moreover, I’m old-fashioned when it comes to poetry: I like meter and rhyme and structure and form. But I do occasionally scribble things down in verse, usually when I simply cannot write about my feelings as I normally do: in prose, in a journal, and by hand. I am literal and I am concrete, but sometimes poetry with all its abstractness is a better outlet. It’s not often, but it happens. Occasionally
This section is a collection of fragments of thoughts. Poetry bores me, so I don’t expect anyone to care, but I figure I ought to keep a record of this somewhere.