Not writing about it

 

Day 4: On the edge of the mining town...

????? How the hell am I going to write on today’s flash fiction piece? The prompt is about something I’ve never experienced.

In all my other writing, I’ve been to the scene to see it, smell it, feel it. Okay, there was an exception: I’ve never crossed the Sahara, but I evacuated the memories from the brain of someone who had down to the feel of the sand. Three people who read it said to me, “I never knew you crossed the Sahara” including one person who had. I must have nailed it.

I have an idea. I go to Google images and bring up several photos of mining towns.

I think of how the life people must have lived there is as opposite from my New England childhood and my European adulthood.

I think how it contrasts with the advice: write about what you know.

I think about how union mines have been proven to be safer than no-union mines.

There’s no one in my little French village that can provide the research that will fill in for my lack of experience.

Then I think of the famous Gay Talese’s piece, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” a non-interview interview in Esquire. You can find it on-line.

Voilà! That’s what I will do. I’ll write about not writing about it with no hopes of matching Talese’s brilliance.

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