Regret
Every time I read a great line by another writer, I feel fear, in case I might, journeying the desert, come to a hut, knock at the door and, upon seeing eye to unseeing eye with my destiny, be required to speak my mind and need that line because no other will do.
And it wouldn't be my own.
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Author's Note
Do you recognise the sentiment? If I read through your comments on fictionaut, I can feel it. And a good thing that is, too.
Published by LITSNACK in an exquisite setting at http://bit.ly/FlawntSnack
My reading is online at http://bit.ly/d8uJW5
Other stories by Finnegan Flawnt
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Good grief, man; shouldn't you be working as a radio voice? Or for movie animation recording?
I'm in love with your voice. (Now there's a story in the night!)
And I just overcame the voice by rereading the text yet again and yes, I've felt that fear. With the amount of reading I do for certain friends, I've actually asked one if a phrase I've used was lifted from their work or was truly mine.
Love this.
Ditto what Susan said. Love this. Can I borrow I teaspoon of sugar, er, prose?
thank you susan. indulge that feeling - i'm sure you will turn it into something worthwhile! on the issue: this remains an inextricable paradox as long as we read and write as we should.
d'arcy - a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go round...there we go borrowing. insincerely yours, flawnt poppins.
This is a marvel of piece, Finnegan. Put me in mind of Basho in his Narrow Road to the Interior. Especially am drawn to "come to a hut, knock at the door and, upon seeing eye to unseeing eye with my destiny". Wonderful work.
thanks sam, that feels good to hear. need to check basho...
heh...
I like the space this occupies; it's a truly 'negative' space, a magic mirror; we've all got lines scribbled down that are really right and not our own! A true to life example of this (for me) involves music - for a time I was playing a ton of guitar. I'd listen to the radio, and start playing along with things I liked, somehow one of these figures ended up in song for the band and someone came up to me after a show and basically accused me of lifting a riff . . . i couldn't place where I came up with it, but it might have been an unconscious lift. Yikes, problems with originality -- as old as philosophy itself.
ha, D'Arcy's comment makes me feel the same way about certain comments to stories
really "get" this piece and feel it
thanks matt ("heh"? i read this somewhere before...), jack and david - i'm glad this resonates with you.
a fear worth feeling. are we not the voices we have heard?
Very resonant. I enjoyed this.
thanks cynthia and larry - and i like your observation "are we not the voices we have heard". could be a part of this piece, almost.
Bloody hell. Is there no end to what comes out of that noodle of yours.
as of kafka of old, a fable true
i hold my noodle in high esteem. i think we all should.