In our contemporary, very American idea of nonfiction, there cannot be much permission for a heightened or slippery narrator. And I’m so interested in slipperiness!
I get so annoyed when things happen in books, because nothing ever happens. In real life, nothing ever fucking happens.
If given my druthers, everything I write would be some B horror movie “Swiss Family Robinson” situation. That just seems to be where I live, narratively.