Well, National Novel Writing Month is over, and I was a near-total failure. I managed to write a mere 2,600 words, only about 5% of the goal of 50,000 words. But I’m happy! Those 2,600 words are the most I’ve managed to write — as fiction, I mean — in 15 years. More to the point, I managed to make an incredibly obvious insight that seemed profound at the time!
I finally let my anecdotes become stories. That is, I took several of the oddball experiences I’ve had and let them breathe, let them belong to someone else. Where I once took pains to ground my anecdotes in utter veracity and my voice, I discovered I could let them out to play in fiction’s wonderland. Actions and reactions don’t have to be my actions and reactions. If something funnier could have — should have — happened, then maybe this time it will.
It turned out that I’d never given myself permission to ask, “What if this happened instead of that?”
Still, that breakthrough didn’t take me far enough. I let other things distract me, and still need to find the time and discipline to work on this stuff.
But I felt pretty good when I got started, so I’m going to try to get back to it, now that the dogs are asleep.
Well, speaking from my meager experience, you couldn’t be more on track. Fiction is a true story that never happened. If you insist on being true to what happened–as opposed to keeping the truth intact no matter what happened–at best you have creative nonfiction. And there’s nothing wrong with that! But fiction is something else. And, as you imply, you have much more freedom. May as well use it!