David Sedaris (to pick one up-to-date essayist at random) tapdances across the page, pitching out spangles of detailed irony to a hip audience. And the backdrop for this display is some fine-looking tapestry of a topical and recognizable theme–Santaland at the mall! Country houses near Paris! High schoolers dreaming about the Ivy League!
But happy endings and hip ones don’t work together. The finale must always be close-up peeks through the tapestry–ooo, there’s a flaw in the weave!–so you see:
- melancholy!
- loneliness!
- rootless lives!
- futile unattainable aspirations to glory!!!!!!
Surprise! (Or at least, a surprise the first ten times you see this done.)
My goal as a writer is different. I want you, dear reader, to enjoy whatever cross-quilted oddball tapestry I’m working on so much that you smile forgivingly over its obvious flaws.
And my obvious flaws.
And even (I really hope this for each reader) your own.