I just wrote my first short story again after years of not writing fiction.

Now, you have to understand that before this blog, I never really dabbled in creative non-fiction, besides maybe essays I had to write for school. If you only know me from this blog, you’d be forgiven for thinking I’m the essay guy. Fiction and I have been on a very long break. For non-writers out there, you might not be privy to the nuances of the two beyond:

Non-fiction = true story;

Fiction = made up.

After flipping between the two for the past couple of weeks, the real difference isn’t truth vs. invention—it’s forgiveness.

Picture this: I started this day with no idea what I would be writing about.

I booted up my computer and stared at the blank Google Docs screen, still with no idea what I would be writing about.

By the time I started writing, only the vaguest form of that idea had materialized.

Right now, as I’m typing this, the title of the document is still the working title of a totally different thesis than what I’m trying to write about now.

And yet, at this point, I have already logged 200 words.

I had no outline, no real plan besides “write,” and no other topic besides talking about something.

I can’t do that with fiction. It’s not just because I have to “invent” or “create” a lot of stuff for fiction, although that may be the case for something more expansive like novellas or novels. No, by the time I logged 200 words with my short story yesterday, I already had a clear outline of its beginning, middle, and end. I already knew what the general themes were and how they would play into the story. If you read it, you’d know that none of my characters have names, true personalities, or anything besides being drivers of the point I was trying to make. I didn’t have to create anything besides the story itself. It’s the organizational necessities that come with fiction that make a difference.

While creative non-fiction is the same, creative non-fiction can’t just make stuff up, at least beyond the most superficial of details. The realities involved with writing creative non-fiction give it some leeway concerning its storytelling architecture and design. I can tell a story about what happened to me this morning and then try to twist it into a grander narrative cake by layering in storytelling elements like the theme and symbolism in between the sponges. These elements are still in service to the story, which is the truth, and can’t be molded as you see fit.

With fiction, however, the themes and symbolisms are often baked into the foundations of the piece even before you start thinking about your story, especially with short stories, where you don’t have the luxury of inflating your page count just to try and make everything connect satisfactorily.

Look at me rambling. It just flowed out from my brain to my fingertips because I’m untethered by having to tell a story. I would probably have to edit out some stuff here because it’s too much.

Or I can just leave it and call it style or “personality,” because let’s admit, pieces like this thrive with a little bit more fluff underneath.

With fiction? Every word has to count. Every story thread you sew in has to pay its rent. Every beat has to earn its keep. And if something is not contributing enough in service to the story or theme, they get snatched up and “disappeared” by the editing police.

Now, I truly enjoyed writing fiction again, and yes, there will be more. But it’s not going to be daily because while I think I’ve actually gotten good at this, I am not a superhuman writer. Yet. Some ideas still belong in essays. Others, the weirder, more speculative ones I’ve been saving for the late-game, are clearly begging to live as fiction.

So, the essays are still paying the rent, but expect the short stories to start moving in any day now, whether the word count likes it or not.