The endless room for creativity in fiction makes it difficult to bind it to a definitive set of rules.
The morning wind swirled down cool and soft from the mountains, shaking the tops of the short pines on the foothills, stirring the dust at Ignacio’s feet and raising his hopes. He leaned back against the car, black and sleek, borrowed from his brother, and fingered the coins in his pocket.
Harvest day is the most important day of the week.
Anthony Doerr weaves together a story across time and space, all the while asking the question, "What happens when stories get lost in translation?"
By reading On Animals, I remembered my animals.
Kate Walbert redefines marriage by exploring its disjointed sides during a pandemic.
I think about other Native people who may read that piece and can, through the piece, feel a connection to those lands...feel that they are there.
Unlikeable main characters abound in modern fiction, and this novel does not break that mold.
Sacrifice can be this totally joyful choice that people make, which is something that I've come to terms with more, recently.
I definitely take inspiration from the skies, like I mentioned, flowers, even food: strawberries, raspberries, those kinds of things.