Posted on February 15, 2016
After 45 days on the road, it’s time to go home and last night’s show was the perfect ending to this road trip. Fiddler on the Roof is all about love and loss, just like my journey was rediscovery of the power of love and loss. A rediscovery that I could pour into the story I’m working on.
I didn’t have to wait long before I realized that Fiddler on the Roof perfectly illustrated what writing means to me, Tevye’s first lines were enough. I’ve adapted them slightly here to show you (and I hope Joseph Stein will forgive me for changing his words):
“A writer on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Fiction, you might say every one of us is a writer on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple story without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask ‘Why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous?’ Well, we stay because Fiction is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: writing!”
I will be back with more stories, about writing in general, about my writing, about what inspires me to fictionalize the world around me. And about my muse. Yes. About him too. Because I couldn’t have pulled this off without him popping his head up every now, without him there wouldn’t have been a flow at all.