Letters

A Letter to Nonfiction

Dear Nonfiction,

Boy, you must be mad after reading last week’s letter to short fiction. First I said it was fun writing something other than essay-style posts, and then I went on and on about my romantic, moon-lit relationship with fiction.

Well, all of that is true, but you know what? You shouldn’t have opened short fiction’s mailbox. You know what else? We can still be friends.

Having a romance with you would take too much work. Do you have any idea how much time and effort on my part it takes to research essay topics? Yes, I know, it takes research to write fiction too, but it’s just not the same grinding, groaning, gritty, grumbling, grievous, grunting blend of alliterating adjectives as writing you. It is fun, I’ll grant you that much, but it should be enjoyed sparingly, sort of like…


What was I saying? Oh, yeah, I was trying to explain why I sometimes need to take a break from you and write something that didn’t actually happen, or that isn’t even possible. Here’s a better example. It’s like going to college. I wouldn’t do nothing but study 24/7 without any sleep or time to myself or a roll in the hay with short fiction, would I? You’re really nice, funny, smart, charming, and oh so generous, but you’re just not relaxing. Short fiction is all of those, but it’s just not . . . it’s not nonfiction.

In other words, be happy with your status as my best friend, but don’t expect me to fall in love with you.

Yours truly,

Hyacinth Grey

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