Post by account_disabled on Nov 30, 2023 0:42:10 GMT -5
When to choose the narrator? Up until now I have always chosen it spontaneously. A story came to mind and at the same time whether to tell it in the first or third person. Maybe for every story there is the right narrative, I don't know. In the novel I'm writing for self-publishing there are six stories connected to each other and 5 are told in the first person. But they were born like this, I started writing them without even thinking about the narrative. Therefore, before writing, I never ask myself whether or not to use the first or third person. They say that the use of the first is a characteristic of novice authors and perhaps it is true.
I remember the very first story I Phone Number Data wrote a few decades ago, a sort of medieval story entitled The Return of the Knight – luckily I no longer found the manuscript – and that story was in fact told in the first person.Every night you go to sleep without the certainty of finding yourself again the next day,” he told me one evening. I didn't have the strength, the bed still had my wife's scent imprinted on it and I missed her like the first day she disappeared. But Sara wasn't looking for sex, she just wanted constant company, to be close to someone for as long as possible. She would leave only to go to the bathroom and shower, but she would leave the door wide open, begging me to stay nearby, to listen, to perceive every little detail that announced her disappearance. I told her yes, of course, but I knew well that if she disappeared, it would happen without any noise, without any warning.
It would just happen. The days passed and the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. One morning we were walking along an avenue, the leaves were starting to return to the trees and the sun was warming the air. Chirps here and there gave a note of life to a city – to a world – that was dying without leaving any corpses. I smiled at a mother with a little girl, they were walking like us, relaxing for a few hours before returning to an existence that risked driving us all crazy. They stopped to drink at a fountain, first the woman, then her daughter. I turned and pointed to Sara a spot at the end of the avenue, where two dogs were frolicking undisturbed. We both laughed.
I remember the very first story I Phone Number Data wrote a few decades ago, a sort of medieval story entitled The Return of the Knight – luckily I no longer found the manuscript – and that story was in fact told in the first person.Every night you go to sleep without the certainty of finding yourself again the next day,” he told me one evening. I didn't have the strength, the bed still had my wife's scent imprinted on it and I missed her like the first day she disappeared. But Sara wasn't looking for sex, she just wanted constant company, to be close to someone for as long as possible. She would leave only to go to the bathroom and shower, but she would leave the door wide open, begging me to stay nearby, to listen, to perceive every little detail that announced her disappearance. I told her yes, of course, but I knew well that if she disappeared, it would happen without any noise, without any warning.
It would just happen. The days passed and the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. One morning we were walking along an avenue, the leaves were starting to return to the trees and the sun was warming the air. Chirps here and there gave a note of life to a city – to a world – that was dying without leaving any corpses. I smiled at a mother with a little girl, they were walking like us, relaxing for a few hours before returning to an existence that risked driving us all crazy. They stopped to drink at a fountain, first the woman, then her daughter. I turned and pointed to Sara a spot at the end of the avenue, where two dogs were frolicking undisturbed. We both laughed.