by Beth Thomas
 mask of smoke by Julian Schwarze via Creative Commons license |
Nah, Cory is a pure amalgam of my imagination.
There are themes here of cutting losses, letting go, and things that are broken... trying to get back something that is lost. Are these themes something you set out to write about, or are they what came about organically through the telling of Cory's story?
In this piece, theme takes a backseat to narrative. Theme becomes a by-product of narrative. I was trying to nail the character of Cory, first. I love your use of the word "organically" because it implies a kind of
taproot, to the unconscious. Writing is most thrilling for me, when suffused with these organic elements.
Who is the ignorant man in the library? How do you think he comes out?
The ignorant man is me, the author of the story. He's a kind of ghost character. He's sort of present, and then again, not. As a purgatorial observer, he makes out alright. It's implied that he'll carry on, to tell more stories.
What did Cory see in Iraq? Do we want to know? Deserve to know?
Whatever he saw, it changed him utterly. It made him "not lithe" anymore. Cory is a window upon Iraq, upon war at large, but it's "through a glass darkly." That's as it should be, I think. As readers, we probably ought not want, nor even deserve, explicitness in this regard, because then the mystery is lost, to overkill, the story turning upon itself, becoming "not lithe."
How did you decide on the title "Greenback Fly"?
The title came first. I kinda stole it from a rock band I admire, called "Southern Culture On The Skids." I hope those musicians are not pissed off at me! I was listening to a S.C.O.T.S. compact disc, in fact, as I composed the first draft draft of this story. It's possible that the fiction was charged entirely out of the awesome music. Organic, indeed. :)
Read Greenback Fly.
