An Imaginary Conversation with Hemingway

Preliminary note: This is a piece of creative writing of mine that I wanted to share with you. I am making no assumptions as regards to Hemingway’s persona, as I have not meticulously studied any intimate biography about him. It is more as I imagine him to be. However I am very fond of his writings and style, which is by the way the only thing I have in common with the character (and her age). Having said that, I would very much appreciate some feedback. Moreover, I’ll probably write more of these and I’d be glad to read your suggestions for upcoming imaginary conversations

Having said.

hemingway-writing

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I was thirsty, having wandered through the city for the past three hours. I entered a broken-down bar in East Brooklyn. It was a place I had never heard of. Yet in this insignificant moment, it was about to become a life-changing spot. I ordered a juice and sat down, staring at the tables in front of me. There were children having dinner with their parents, drunk people celebrating and other seemingly blissful lives in the room. I was urged to pay attention to this man alternating writing, playing with his pens and drinking. Uncertain whether I knew him or not, I asked the bartender if this person was some sort of figure in town. ‘That’s the great Hemingway having his daily drink here’ he replied to me almost refraining me from talking to him. Eventually, I decided to approach the mysterious man hiding behind his legendary work.

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‘Hello Mr. Hemingway! I’m so pleased to meet you!’

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‘Hello young girl! Aren’t you underage to be so late in such a place?’

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‘No sir, it’s just a bar and I’m eighteen. Wow!’ I stared at him for a second. ‘Are you writing a book at the moment? I’m so fond of your work. Each of your novels seems like a masterpiece to me!’

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‘Just taking some notes, as per usual. But young girl, you do have a lot to learn. Are they? I don’t know… I don’t even want them to be.’

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‘Why so? I doubt you lack self-confidence. Neither are you as selfless and humble as those words make you.’

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‘You are right. I sure ain’t the most humble man on Earth! As flawed as I am, all I want is my books to resemble me. You’re an intriguing little person I must say.’

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‘So are you, Mr. Hemingway! You write incredibly detailed and precise and beautiful things, yet I bet there are many mysteries behind this genius author.’

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‘Enough with the flattering part. Tell me what you really think about my work. Be deep, be real and honest. What do you really love about it? What makes you use these loaded words?’

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‘Oh, Mr. Hemingway. You’re disturbing me… I love the way you write, the sentences easy to understand with unloaded words yet powerful meanings behind them. The soothing sounds I hear when I read them aloud. The staggering attention made on purpose to those insightful stories. The stunning characters you build with flaws and qualities, honesty, experience and talent. I love all about it.’

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‘So you’re a writer too, huh?’

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‘I guess we can say that… I mean, I’ve kept diaries and tried inventing a few stories before. But how can you tell?’

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‘It is simple. It’s in the way you speak and in the way you describe things. It’s all in the description. You’re an observer, that’s a good point, as a writer. And you read, that’s what also makes you a writer. You will be good. You must carry on writing and observing and never stop reading. And keep being a human being. Don’t stop breathing and living for the sake of writing. Be human.’

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He put his moleskine notebook back into his pocket and swiftly swallowed a last glass of whisky, seemingly eager to leave.

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‘Can I ask you one more thing, sir?’

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‘Do ask, my dear.’

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‘Can you tell what was the hardest story for you to write?’

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‘In brief, I must say that they are the ones inspired from my own experiences. Creating a story based on your sole imagination is all up to you, the writer, whereas in truth you must be balanced, grounded and really confident. I leave you to think of which are those stories. Was nice meeting you, kid!’

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.We shook hands and shared a smile. He left the place taking with him another brand-new bottle of whisky on the stand. The bar became noisy as he disappeared. All of sudden, people around me mattered. I realized that his persona had caused everything around him to vanish. When he was here, nothing else in the room seemed significant. He was valued.

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9 thoughts on “An Imaginary Conversation with Hemingway

  1. Hi, Giulia! I found you on the community pool. This is a great and unique post. I really like it!

    I have one little suggestion. When readers see a long post, sometimes they do not even bother to read it because it seems too long. I would suggest adding images or separating your paragraphs more often.

    All in all, your blog looks really great. Keep up with your good work!

    1. Hi! Thank you for the helpful suggestion. Indeed, I have been told the same thing quite a few times. Nevertheless, I have struggled to insert images as regards to such writings. Anyway, I will try and separate the paragraphs more often.

      Thank you very much!

  2. A very interesting and creative story. I also believe that photos are very helpful in breaking up long posts and I do that most of the time. I don’t know how you would do that with this post though. I thought the picture at the time was enough.

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