As I sit in Starbucks, listening to some blues turned low, I wonder why anyone would follow my blog. My life isn't all that interesting. Certainly not as interesting as, oh, say, your own. The only thing my blog might have that someone else's may not is my propensity to exaggerate.
When writing, that is called literary license. When relating a story in person some have scoffed when I begin my fanciful exaggeration. Hummph. Really? Hard to believe, but yes. Most of my friends and co-workers have become accustomed to my "verbal fiction". It is merely literary license added to a verbal retelling of some trivial event. Yes, I admit, sometimes the verbal fiction is more exaggerated than other times, but those who know me are now acclimated.
For instance, if I am forced to apply my brakes suddenly on the way to work, in the retelling, I had to slam on my brakes and laid 45 feet of skids before coming to rest in the haze of burning rubber. This is merely a slight exaggeration, surely. A slightly fictionalized account of a true story.
So, I give fair warning of my status as a writer of fiction. I take very seriously the bumper sticker that warned, "No, your life would NOT make a good book." However, my slightly fictionalized telling of some event may make a good story, if not a book. And I will certainly be the first to admit it is...um...exaggerated, if asked.
I mean, who wants to read "Today, I got up, went to work, came home, had dinner and went to bed"?
Wouldn't this be more interesting? "Today I woke to the rumble of military jets passing over en-route to the Portland airbase. I hauled myself out of bed and rushed to work, turning on NPR and listened for any signs of a skirmish. By the end of the day, after reassuring myself no aerial attack was imminent, I gunned my engine and few home, closing all the curtains in case a blackout occurred while I fixed dinner. When I finally lowered my head to the pillow, I gave thanks I got through another day and hoped the sun would rise the next."
It is pretty much the same thing, isn't it? I mean, that plane I heard could have been military, couldn't it?