“Where did you get the idea of the neighborhood fire?” he asked, referring to FELLOW MORTALS’ central crisis.
“It just popped into my head one morning at the drugstore,” I said, “along with the general structure of the whole novel.”
Ten minutes earlier, I’d said that fiction writing—for me, at least—is a craft like any other, requiring discipline and practical skills. Writers are more like carpenters, with specialized tools and patient labor, and less like dreamy lovers frolicking with Pan in the moonlight.
“So which is it?” he asked. “The muse or the toolbox?”
There are so many lousy ways to answer that very good question…