A realization after revising my short story collection: a lot of my stories feature driving.
People driving. People in cars. People going somewhere — or, more often than not, going nowhere.
Is this a writerly tic?
A byproduct of living in Southern California?
Or is it thematic? Something symbolic of the transitory nature of my characters and, well, contemporary life in general?
The latter certainly sounds better, but I’m not sure. Could definitely be a tic.
Note to self: lay off the driving when writing.
Cars are quintessential features of American fiction. I think we get reflective while driving. Plus, if alone, it’s great writing time. That’s how I rationalize it.
I have so many car scenes in my novel, a critical reader scribbled this beside a thrift store scene: “YAY! We are not in a car or a bar!” That’s when I made the same note to myself
Cars and bars — it doesn’t get any more American than that, Carol.
Surprisingly, I think there’s only one bar scene in my s.s. collection.