May 2006: What Stories Do (cont.)

“I don’t write fiction in order to teach,” I told him, somewhat primly, I’m afraid. “I write stories so that my readers will feel.”

And that is true as far as it goes. But I kept thinking about it afterwards, the young reporter’s question, the suppressed irritation of my answer. I kept thinking about all that his question implied and about all my answer failed to say.

Of course, I hope my readers might learn something from my stories. First, because I often have to learn a great deal myself before I can begin to write them . . . in this case about bears in the wild and about this bear, in particular, a young male that had defied all reason by breaking, repeatedly, into the Alaska Zoo. (This particular story was based on a series of real events surrounding a very real bear.) Second, because I have lived for what is beginning to feel like a rather long time, I have learned a few things along the way, and I hope that some bit of wisdom finds its way into all my stories. And yes, I hope that my stories increase my readers’ understanding of the world and of themselves . . . any readers, young or old. That is, after all, what good fiction does, whatever audience it is intended for.

Someone else asked me a question about A Bear Named Trouble, someone else who had a clear idea of what stories for children are meant to do.