Yesterday, at lunch, I dropped the better-half off at Jiffy Lube to pick up his truck. I couldn’t get over to turn an immediate left and had to go down and around to get back to the office. He actually beat me back to the office which is darn funny. That’s not the point of this entry though.
As I was making my way back, I drove past a house that had three women sitting out front and one babe in a stroller. No idea the gender of the babe. One of the women was young and one was old and one was of an indeterminate age…yeah, this is really interesting. Anyway, I got the impression that it was grandmother, mother, daughter and daughter’s child. They were sitting out on the front stoop chatting. I wondered if the child would have any memory of going to grandmother or great-grandmother’s house and enduring long boring chats by his/her elders. Which lead me to wonder about the state of future works of fiction.
In all the creative writing classes I ever took we were told to write what we’ve experienced or at least use experiences as a jumping off place. What are “kids these days” going to use as experiences? Staying in the house all day because their mother’s won’t let them outside?
The kids next door to me are so rarely outside that we often wonder if anyone is home. The neighbors have 3 acres of land…some of it is yard and the rest are trees. Why aren’t they outside? Their parents have met us. We, so far, haven’t hacked anyone or anything to bits. We’re in a rural area and I can tell you if the kids were within my eyesight I’d probably get all old lady on them and tell them to quit it or they’ll poke their eye out. Whatever happened to kids being told to get out from under-foot and get outside?
When I was young (oh so many years ago) we lived in a subdivision and we were always kicked out in the morning, reigned back in for lunch and then kicked back out until dinner, then told to go play flashlight tag until it was time for bed. We were inside if we were sick, it was raining or there was company. When I got older we lived during the summers in a small little town where we would take off on bikes and be gone for hours. Couldn’t even see our house.
And, that brings me back to the kid in the stroller and the state of future fiction. Will that kid have some real experiences where he/she explores his/her universe and then has something to write about? I’m interested to know what fiction will be like in 15 years. All the up-and-coming writers are children now and how will their experiences change the world of fiction or will it just be true that everything worth knowing has already been captured?
