It’s good to see another narratist aboard. Welcome Beverly.
A recent assignment in Creative Writing was to write a poem on death. The condition was to make it funny. We are working with lots of conditions. Anyway, the writers are going to have problems with this. Conditions interupt natural development of a line of thought, but they also force the writer to consider technique, to concentrate on an image that may gell later.
A poem on death could begin:
Death came for me, then changed his mind.
Sounds like Emily Dickinson.
The dead man told jokes
Jim yelled, “Tell my mother to put me in clean socks.”
Then he jumped. Into another century.
That sounds like Soto.
Each line here is a decision.