I find my own meanings.

The nice thing about the written word is that it can be taken in many, many ways. The reader can find his/her own meaning. One that the writer may not have intended. Which is all right. Especially in literature. I used to write a newspaper column. And often people didn’t know whether to take it seriously, or not. That was fine with me. I allowed the readers to put themselves into the column. I allowed the readers to take it whichever way they preferred. Knowing full well that it could be taken in different, even multiple ways. I’m reading some stories now by the Sardinian writer Grazia Deledda. And it could very well be that I’m taking the stories in ways that Deledda never intended. But I don’t hesitate doing that. Because I want to find my own meaning. My own interpretation. I want to put myself into the story, in a sense, and relate it to my own personal experience. I don’t necessarily like what Deledda does with a certain plot or certain characters. And so I improvise. And I give the characters motives that make sense to me. A good writer allows the reader to take license. Expects it. Allows me to find my own meanings. --Jim Broede