The Memory You Have Not Written About Yet Is Waiting

A new post on Ramos On Craft

There is a memory you have been carrying for years that you have not yet decided is interesting enough to write about. Not because it is small. Because you have been avoiding the decision entirely. Writers do this. We protect ordinary experience from the page the way we protect a wound from the air, convinced that exposure will prove it was never worth the attention.

This week on Ramos On Craft I write about what happens when you finally stop protecting it. The post begins on Interstate 95 in 1972 and ends with Three Mangoes for Hemingway, and somewhere in between it makes a case for the ordinary memory you have been carrying that is not ordinary at all.

If you are not yet a subscriber to Ramos On Craft on Substack, I hope today is the day you join us. Ramos On Craft publishes twice weekly for writers who are devoted readers of literary fiction, exploring craft questions that do not have easy answers through the specific, the personal, and the earned rather than the instructional and the general. No listicles, no shortcuts, and no advice the post itself does not model. If you are somewhere in the middle of your own work, it was written for you. The link is below.

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