A writer must know how to weave a story out of thin air.
A writer must excel at making mountains out of mole hills.
A writer must dazzle at mining gold from old rock.
A writer must delight in connecting the dots on completely blank paper.
A writer should be able to take any life event and sculpt it into something literarily sound… or interesting… or at least useful to reader and world.
But try as I might, I can’t figure out how to take the total awesomeness of my Cubs winning the Wild Card game last night and manipulate, fold, deconstruct or reconstruct it into anything approaching “authorly.”
But Holy Cow, the Cubs won!
What more in the world is there to say than that, man?