Archive for the 'Fiction' Category

Musician, Rabat, Morocco

Musician in the Kasbah des Oudaias, Rabat, Morocco

On our visit to Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, we were exploring the Kasbah des Oudaias with its twisting lanes and narrow streets when we came across this musician. He was singing while playing his three-stringed lute – I think it’s called a guinbri or santir and is common and popular throughout western Africa.

Writing prompt:

  • Who is this man?
  • Why is he singing in public?
  • What is his background story?

When I am faced with writing a short story based on an image or photograph or something I’ve seen, I start with the person’s name. I don’t know the name of the man in the photo, so I will have to make one up. I try to be authentic to the setting. I ask a few questions, like those above. Other questions like “what is he doing – and why?” often start a stream of ideas.

I let the story take over, directing my thoughts and just getting down the words as they come.

If the character takes over the narrative and demands to have her story told, that’s exciting. Just go with the flow. Get the words down quickly; editing and rewriting come later.

Good writing.

Writing prompt – what’s behind the window?

Windows in the Kasbah des Oudaias, Rabat, Morocco

On our visit to the Rabat, the capital of Morocco, my attention was grabbed by this intriguing, yet, beautiful, set of windows in the Kasbah des Oudaias.

The writer in me started wondering: what’s behind the windows?

Who lives here? What are the stories of the people living here?

If the windows could tell, what stories would they weave.

This quaint, simple scene is evocative of the mysterious, magical Morocco we experienced throughout our tour.

Could this be the setting for a poem?

A short story?

A murder mystery – or a tearful romance?

Good writing.

Pots on a wall

Pots on a wall in Rabat, Morocco

We saw these beautiful, ornate pots while visiting Rabat, the capital city of Morocco. Our guide took us on a meandering walk through some narrow lanes in the Kasbah des Oudaias. I was fascinated by this set of large pots on a wall next to someone’s front door. They appear to have been recently cemented in place. Why? I have no idea.

We visited a number of sites while in Rabat, this older part being a UNESCO World Heritage area.

Writing prompt:

Use your imagination to answer one or more of these questions:

  • Why are the pots on the wall?
  • Who put them there?
  • What have they been used for?
  • Who lives behind the wall?

Incorporate some of your answers into a story about a person who lives in this old city. Or tell the story from the point of view of one of the pots.

Good writing.

Drumming up a story

Colourful character in Rabat, Morocco

During our visit to Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, we went to see part of the old fortified city. As we alighted from our bus this colourful character came towards us banging on his drum. This was obviously part of the experience of visiting this spot, but our guide didn’t explain why the drummer was there. He was also trying to drum up business, but I was too mean-spirited to give him a tip. Seeing he knew I had taken a photo of his, he was probably a little miffed that I didn’t give him a tip.

Writing prompt: use your imagination to tell the following:

  • What is this man’s story?
  • Where has he come from, and what is his background?
  • Why is he dressed in this way?
  • What significance has the drum?

Become a professional liar

‘I’m not interested in anything that doesn’t involve lies. If I want the truth, well, I can Google it, can’t I?’

Robert Dessaix at Adelaide Writers Week 2012 March 5th

Fiction writers are, if you think deeply about it, professional liars. Fiction, by definition, is made up out of the imagination of the writer. I know what Dessaix (a prominent Australian writer) is trying to say, albeit somewhat tongue in cheek. The audience’s amused reaction was predictable. He is generally a very entertaining speaker, panellist and a very talented writer.

The interesting thing I find about thinking and talking about fiction is that, although all fiction is imaginary, made up, not true, there is another element at work in sometimes very subtle ways. One could call most fiction a lie, good literature will illuminate truths about the human condition.

And what is truth anyway?