The Writer's Job

"In my opinion it is not the writer's job to solve such problems as God, pessimism, etc; his job is merely to record who, under what conditions, said or thought what about God or pessimism. The artist is not meant to be a judge of his characters and what they say; his only job is to be an impartial witness. I heard two Russians in a muddled conversation about pessimism, a conversation that solved nothing; all I am bound to do is reproduce that conversation exactly as I heard it. Drawing conclusions is up to the jury, that is, the readers. My only job is to be talented, that is, to know how to distinguish important testimony from unimportant, to place my characters in the proper light and speak their language." 
-Anton Chekhov

 

Writing the Stoies: Eileen gets the mail...

Gorgeous snow fell, headlong, self-propelled objects.  They knew they wanted to hit the ground, yet disliked the curious bumping into one another.  The flakes looked erratic and senseless.  A wind kicked up a distraction, and danced the snow like Tasmanian devils – move, move, move…  In the final three feet of descent, the crystals cascaded, indistinguishable, heaped all together at the edge of Eileen’s porch.

The blizzard finally petered out mid-morning. 

School was cancelled.  Neighborhood children had been yelling and throwing the snow from one yard to the next most of the morning.  Women bundled little ones and plunked them in the powder while they held steaming coffees and compared stories.  Bent old men and grumbling teenagers shoveled paths from their doors to the road.  Someone had thought to shovel a path for Eileen, but it was still covered with a thin layer of ice. It was not a good idea to take her hip on a walk for the mail until she could clearly see the pavement of her driveway.  Until the road had been warmed by cars of the young and brave.

 

Heavy snow kept her locked up like a naughty child in timeout, forgotten.  She heard all the glee and energy from inside her house and felt punished.  Eileen waved at the Zimmerman boys as they shoveled sidewalks, but they could not see her...