My parents had gotten me a typewriter and I had tried some short stories but they had come out very bitter and ragged. Not that that was so bad but the stories seemed to beg, they didn't have their own vitality. My stories were darker than Becker's, stranger, but they didn't work. Well, one or two of them had worked - for me - but it was more or less as if they had fallen into place instead of being guided there. Becker was clearly better. Maybe I'd try painting