Nonfiction (Such an ugly word!)

[Hinata]

I LOVE writing nonfiction--not like biographies or boring stuff like that. We all think nonfiction is that section of books we don't even want to touch because, face it, there's no fun at all in nonfiction. BUT YOU'RE WRONG! A basic course in creative writing will show you how wrong you are about nonfiction. I never really wanted to write nonfiction cause it's all those dead people who we had to read about in our elementary classes to write the reports about. It was boring and no fun, but I'll tell you, I changed my opinion on the matter fast after I got introduced to Creative Nonfiction.

My first piece I wrote about some of the feelings and activity I got caught up in after the Presidential Elections of 2004. It was amazing! I love the piece so much. It is one of the best things I've ever written because rather than having to describe a fictional world that I was still uncertain about and trying to gain the grasp on, I knew the world. I had experienced the world. I had been the world. It was amazing to write.

So, what misgivings do you have about Nonfiction and how can we help you start writing nonfiction that will make you love it? Let's start a discussion on what we want to write as nonfiction writers and how can we shake off that icky feeling of boring old material we really don't want to touch!

[Hinata]

This is the first page to my nonfiction about my sister. . .tell me what you all think of it and if it catches your eye, I really want to try and publish this.

“Jessie, I think I’m pregnant?” Jamie’s voice echoed over the phone as I drove around Albuquerque trying to figure out the streets. I had only been living in Albuquerque for a few months and I hadn’t grown out of needing the grid system that most of Utah had been set up on.

“You can’t be. You just had your period in June.” I took note of the large amount of police cars on Louisiana at eleven o’clock at night, something I had never seen in Utah even at midnight.

“I know, but it was really light. Sometimes when you’re pregnant you can get a period the first month and it’s just really light.” Jamie had just recently gotten married two months before. A week after her wedding, I had moved to Albuquerque to continue my education at the University of New Mexico.

“Are you sure? You can’t be pregnant. I told you no kids until I got done with school!” I turned onto Central to avoid the police and see what else I could find. I had successfully found one of the Kirtland Air Force Base entries already.

“I’m sorry Jessie.” She has always been the only one allowed to call me Jessie, a name that I really hate. “Besides, you ran away to Albuquerque!”

“Yeah, but you got married!” I retorted, knowing full well that our lives were taking different paths even when neither of us want to leave the other.

The news of Jamie’s pregnancy hit me harder than any blow from her had before. It frustrated and angered me because Jamie had always been my best friend. I was Jamie’s baby. When I was brought home from the hospital just a few days after being born, my parents tell me that Jamie latched on to me instantly and claimed me as “my baby.”