|Reviews for Fleetingly Rare|
| Salkiethia chapter 1 . 6/25/2008
I think I've figured it out. I think I've finally figured out why - when there are so many other good authors on this site - I keep coming back to your work.
It's not because you're the best on the site ((though it is possible I suppose...)), or even because the topics you choose to write on are interesting.
No, what it is, is that you pick up on the nuances of human behavior and tinker with them. They're bent out of shape, contorted in strange ways, but still recognizable. I guess that's the whole "universal truth" my creative writing teacher was always ragging on me about.
She'd say I could write anything I damn well pleased, as long as there was something in it to be recognizable to anyone who read it.
You hear it enough, I guess, but you write well.
Every so often I go back and look at the review you gave me. Pisses me the hell off sometimes, makes me laugh others. I'm more in a pissed off mood now, but I guess I'll have to grudgingly accept that you know what you're talking about.
And that you've probably had conversations.
I don't know how many times I've walked by someone, looked them in the eye and wondered about them. I had this idea that one day I was going to go somewhere and talk to random people on the streets, try to discover that life story, and then weave it into a bigger work. Probably will never do that. Such an immense project - and I'm not that dedicated to it.
But this just reminded me of it, and started me thinking again.
So what are the stories? Where are the stories?
Maybe we'll all have to start looking for them in other people's eyes, and in their words. Maybe I'll find a bit of you in your other writing, if I look carefully enough. Maybe. And then again, maybe not.